#even then it was more a twinge‚ and then having it be emotionally sore for ~20 min

[jinglyhigh-heels]

I’m pretty sure I have a google docs for this, but I’m not in the mood to actually look for it, so:

Issues I have and should address in therapy:

1. not having therapy. I need therapy.

2. feeling like I need to deserve things.

- need to put in This many friendship tokens in order for this person to like me

- need to be better at clarinet in order to buy a better clarinet (when in fact, getting a new clarinet should help me get better*)

3. insecure insecure insecure it’s been twinging in my gut for weeks now idk what to do not good enough even though I‘m not bad for where I’m at (I think), I’m probably technically average but I feel like a disappointment like I’m bad

4. hasn’t been an issue lately (I‘d actually need to hang out around people for this to even be a possibility) but my tendency to fawn/freeze whenever someone seems like they’re going to get angry with me and/or when people yell at me (thanks mom)

5. I‘m so bad at friends?? And I don’t even know what exactly it is. Like I know (at least, I think I do) what I’m technically doing wrong, but I don’t know (well, not exactly—I have a few guesses) the root mental issues and how to tackle them. Because trying to tackle the results clearly ain’t working, and I’m sad and lonely.

*and that’s another thing! Ik that getting a new clarinet will help, but I’m stuck with this loop of subconsciously hoping that it would cure all my issues (and therefore my self-worth/anxiety/self-confidence issues), but knowing that it likely won’t and that having this hope will only lead a really bad anxiety/self-doubt/regret episode when it is inevitably dashed. But I don’t know where exactly to put my expectations! There’s no real answer for how this will immediately help me, until I actually buy the thing, and so my brain keeps going for the ideal! Gah!

6. I know all this and therefore I don’t need therapy, right? Right?!? Ahahahahahahaha

Edit: something I should mention is that I technically have ADHD meds that I should be on. However, many issues were present when it came to actually getting them, so I’m about 3 months unmediated unfortunately. Aside from (?), one reason I haven’t started seeking therapy is that I’m pretty sure my medicine helped with a lot of the insecurity?? And idk if it was like a “the medicine helps with the thing that is causing the anxiety” or a “the medicine actually just fistfights the anxiety”, but either way I think I should wait until I’m able to get back on my meds and readjust to them before I start therapy, that way I go into it knowing what I don’t got covered.

#also‚ sadness over loosing theater like. just hit me?? today?? #it’s been literally a year since my last show wtf #delayed reaction much? #even then it was more a twinge‚ and then having it be emotionally sore for ~20 min #that is. a thing ig.

[queenofcats17]

So...I’ve been....very invested in @hlvrai-twh lately. And I had an idea...

This is absolutely going to make me emotionally compromised and if I must suffer so shall you

Also, I’m probably being far more generous to Benrey than he deserves

Edit: Now with fanart!

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

Benrey removed the VR headset with a contented sigh. He’d done it! He’d gotten out of the game! He was finally free!

He looked around the room, excitement bubbling up in his chest. He was in what appeared to be a home office, sitting at a desk with a large monitor on top and a keyboard in front of it. Under the desk, beside his legs, a PC tower hummed away. It was nice. Gordon had built it himself, the body’s memories supplied.

The game was still running, so Benrey closed it out, taking a moment to browse Gordon’s Steam library. It was a lot of first person shooters, a few retro games, Tetris. Maybe he’d try one or two of them out sometime. Once he was sure he wouldn’t get sucked back in. He couldn’t be too careful. He didn’t want to lose the second chance he’d just gained.

Benrey pushed back in the swivel office chair, standing up and stretching, reveling in the way his new body protested at being seated for so long. He was sore, but in a way he knew would go away, not like the constant pain he’d experienced before. This body was his now. All his.

All of this was his, he thought with a giddy smile as he surveyed the room. The books about coding, which he would have understood even if he hadn’t gained Gordon’s memories, the pictures of Gordon with Joshua, the little art projects that Joshua had made for Gordon that littered the shelves, the video game memorabilia.

It was all his now.

Speaking of Joshua...He should probably check on the kid. Make sure he hadn’t seen or heard anything. He wasn’t about to hurt the kid, it would just be easier if he didn’t have to deal with an upset child who knew this wasn’t his father.

He headed to the door, opening it to peer into the darkened hallway. Gordon’s body provided the memories of which room was which. Joshua’s was at the end of the hall, right next to Gordon’s bedroom. The door was partially open, letting some of the light from Joshua’s nightlights spill onto the floor. They were all cowboy themed, of course. His favorite was one that looked like a horse with a cowboy hat. He kept it right near his bed.

As he stepped into the hallway, though, Benrey paused. He definitely wanted to check on Joshua, but there was something he wanted to do first. Because the bathroom was right next to the office. And he wanted to fully take in what he’d gained.

Benrey had never really cared much about his appearance while he’d been in the game. He’d been a low poly guard model. What was there to be interested in? But now? Now, he was practically preening in front of the mirror. Gordon was a good looking guy. Beautiful hair, decent beard, cute freckles, lovely eyes. Benrey couldn’t believe this was his now.

“Can’t believe you traded this away, Feetman,” he murmured to himself, enjoying the feeling of his voice rumbling in his chest.

Of course, Gordon hadn’t known Benrey wasn’t going to give the body back, but still, if Gordon had really wanted to keep this body he never should have agreed to switch in the first place. He had no idea now lucky he was. Well, he’d probably realized it near the end. He’d known exactly what he was losing because he’d agreed to Benrey’s trade.

Benrey felt a twinge in his heart, his giddy smile dropping. He hadn’t wanted to do this. He wasn‘t happy that he’d betrayed his friends. He wasn’t happy that he’d killed someone else to ensure his safety. But he’d had no other choice. He wasn’t just going to stay and let himself get deleted. He’d had to get out.

He looked down, hands gripping the edges of the sink so hard his knuckles turned white. Tears welled up in his eyes, even as he bit his lip and willed them to stop. He could taste blood, acrid and coppery. His whole body shook as his breath began to hitch. He kept his gaze firmly on the drain off the sink.

He couldn’t look at his reflection. The reflection that had brought him so much joy mere moments ago would provoke only increased guilt now.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It had to be this way.”

None of them had understood. Not Tommy, not Coomer, not Bubby, not Gordon. They all thought he was some kind of heartless monster. They didn’t understand! He hadn’t wanted to do this! He didn’t want to die! This was the only way!

None of them understood what it was like to feel yourself slowly being erased from existence, molecule by molecule. They all belonged somewhere. They never had to worry about being purged like some kind of vermin. He deserved to belong somewhere too! He deserved to live! He deserved to-

“Daddy?”

Benrey’s head snapped toward the doorway. Joshua stood there in his cowboy footie pajamas, rubbing his eyes sleepily with one hand while the other held a stuffed horse wearing a cowboy hat.

Benrey forced himself to smile. “Hey, bud. Sorry, did I wake you?”

It was so much easier to slip into Gordon’s mannerisms now. It still didn’t quite feel natural, but he was sure he’d get used to it. He had to.

“Why’re you crying?” Joshua asked, looking a little worried. Of course he was worried, he’d come in on his dad crying in the bathroom late at night with a bleeding lip. That had to be...pretty terrifying for him.

God, how did he answer that question without lying too much?

“I...had a fight with my friends,” he answered after a long pause.

“Oh....About what?” Joshua tilted his head to the side.

“Just a lot of complicated grown up stuff,” Benrey said, leaning down to scoop Joshua up in his arms.

“What kinda grown up stuff?” Joshua asked as Benrey headed back to Joshua’s room. He had his arms wrapped around Benrey’s neck.

“We had some...differences of opinion,” Benrey said, setting Joshua down in his bed and pulling the covers over him. “It’s a really long story, bud.”

Joshua pouted a bit at the lack of a satisfactory answer, but still snuggled under his blanket. “I hope you can make up with them. I don’t like fighting my friends.”

Benrey’s already forced smile grew a bit more forced. “I hope so too, bud.” He gently ruffled Joshua’s hair.

“Goodnight kiss?” Joshua looked expectantly up at him.

This got a more genuine smile out of Benrey. Looking at Joshua...He was sure now he knew how Gordon had felt about his son. When he looked at Joshua, he felt such love and tenderness welling up in his chest. He knew he would do anything to protect Joshua.

“Alright. But just one. Then you need to get back to sleep. You’ve got school in the morning.” He quickly wiped his lip on the back of his hand and leaned down to kiss Joshua’s forehead.

Satisfied, Joshua buried himself under his covers, closing his eyes. 

Benrey turned and left the room, heading to Gordon’s- no, his room where he collapsed face first onto the bed. He could do this. He could be Gordon. He would be the very best parent to Joshua that he possibly could. He would be the best employee he possibly could.

No one would even know Gordon was gone.

#hlvrai #hlvrai twh au #the witch's house au #fanfiction

[mintmatcha]

what would ukai do if you grabbed his hand and slid it up to your throat during s*x

i hope you don’t mind but i used this as a prompt as wrote something....

Break Me

Ukai Keishin & reader (reader has a vagina) (18+ obviously)

Warnings: choking, breathplay, pet names, finger sucking.

The mattress creaks as Ukai leans into you, using each kiss he places against your skin as an excuse to drink you in. He takes his time, his touch trailing over every inch of skin, testing each spot to see what makes you moan, makes you purr, before coming to rest on your thighs. His forehead is pressed against yours, skin slick from sweat. As he rolls his hips against yours, he whispers sweet nothings into your lips. 

Every trailing touch of his fingertips is controlled exploration of your body. He’s being uncharacteristically romantic, treating you like you might break under his touch. It’s been like this since your relationship became official; your boyfriend takes every opportunity to worship you, to treat you like you’re royalty.   It’s gentle. It’s soft.  It’s nice. It’s aggravating. The way he acts like you might break under his touch frustrates you beyond belief.

It’s like he never considered that you want to be broken.

As you take the hand that is pressing your thigh into the mattress and bring it towards your face, Ukai softens even more. His already leisurely pace slows, fully dragging his cock into and out of your folds, making you savor every inch of him. The languid speed makes your back arch in need, desperate for more friction, more pressure, more of anything.  He takes control of his hand for a moment, thinking that he understands what you want, and cups your cheek. His fingers trace over your jaw, ghosting over a bruise he left days prior, as his eyes meet yours. 

“Keishin?” innocence drips from your voice. The corners of Ukai’s eyes crinkle.  Any other time, you’d be a flutter at the tender look, but right now it’s just pissing you off. “Can you do something for me?”

He laughs breathlessly before pressing a kiss to the bridge of your nose. “Anything for you, kitten.” he whispers. Gag.

You grasp his hand once more and guide it to your neck, squeezing his fingers into your flesh, your nails digging into the back of his hand. 

“Fuck me.” you’re almost growling. “Break me.”

Keishin's breath catches in his throat and his dick throbs within you, but he doesn’t hesitate. Your heartbeat races against the pressure for his palm as his weight shifts to lean against you and a hum of approval escapes as he squeezes. He curses under his breath, then curses louder at your moan. It’s like he’s savoring the way every sound you make vibrates into his skin. A darkness falls over his eyes as a grin smears across his face. It’s a dangerous look, but you can’t help but smile in return- there’s the Keishin you were looking for.

“Aw, does kitten want me to rough her up?” he teases, his free hand twisting your leg up into your chest. The stretch burns for a moment, but it’s replaced by the sudden snap of his hips pounding into yours. He’s using the new leverage to snap deeper into you, hitting spots that leave you seeing stars. The hand on your neck presses up below your jaw, cutting off just enough blood flow to make you swoon.  “Are you sure you can handle me?”

All you can do is keen, your head swimming with bliss as the corners of your mind blur. He's no longer watching your face, instead watching the way your cunt swallows him. He cocks his head to watch your hole take him as he picks up his speed, chuckling through a hungry grin. Throwing your leg over his shoulder, he turns his focus to your clit. The sudden pleasure of his thumb circling clumsily, sends you reeling, which only seems to urge his pace faster. 

Without warning, Ukai spits. The hot trail of saliva runs down the top of your mound, trickling down your folds. He trails his finger through it, mixing his spit in with the cream dripping from your cunt, before returning to circle at a grueling speed. You can't tell if the heat that runs through your body is from embarrassment or from the hand clenched still around your neck. 

"You like that?" he asks, but you can't compose yourself enough to answer. With a dry laugh, he continues. "Such a smart girl, can't believe a little bit of dick makes you so stupid."

He shakes your neck, not hard enough to hurt, just enough that your head lulls back and forth.

"Fuck." he tries to say something else, but words fail him. “Fuck.”

Compared to a few minutes earlier, Keishin is almost unrecognizable. His pupils, barely visible under his heavy lids, are blown out and barely focused. His headband is hanging off the back of his head, threatening to fall off, leaving his dyed blonde hair to sway with his thrusts. Even though your mind is being consumed with a warm haze, one that’s spreading through your limbs, leaving your whole body hot and weightless, you can still think of the perfect word to describe him: feral.

You're only half aware of the way your own fingers are dragging down his chest, leaving behind jagged red lines. Bottom lip caught between his teeth, Keishin hisses at the pain before drilling into you harder, slamming your skull against the bed frame from the sheer force. Your hands fly away from him to brace yourself against the headboard, scrambling to find some purchase before the man fucks you into a concussion. The haze in your mind softens the  pain of blow, but only intensifies the way his cock forces your cunt open.

“Shit, sorry.” he mumbles as he realizes, hips stuttering, “I didn’t-”

“Don’t stop.” you chant and the desperation in your voice surprises both of  you. Begging as he continues to fuck you, each word  that tumbles out of your mouth becomes more unraveled until they’re nothing but meaningless sobs.

You aren’t aware how close you are to the edge until your knees start locking. His grip becomes heavy, biceps flexing as he clamps down, limiting your inhales to small sips. Fingertips bury themselves into the soft fat of your stomach hard enough you’re sure it’ll bruise. The fuzziness in your brain and the emptiness in your lungs makes your vision blur. For a moment, it’s scary- terrifying even. 

But that just makes it better.

As your orgasm hits, you can only manage a strangled moan. For only a split second,  everything in your brain goes silent. Instead of your orgasm crashing down around you, it plateaus, leaving you a twitching, tight mess below him. Relief doesn’t come until Ukai pulls his hand away from your throbbing clit.  As you slowly descend, he inspects the sheen on his fingers, twisting his wrist to catch the light. He pops his thumb into his mouth and a flick of his tongue, the lewd sounds of him cleaning your cum filling your head.

"You taste so good." he purrs, sweeping away the blonde locks plastered to his forehead before grasping your jaw, pointer finger and thumb digging into the divets below your cheekbones. His pace is off kilter as he fucks you now, losing all sense of rhythm as he comes undone himself.  A warmth fills you as he hilts himself a final time, cock throbbing painfully hard against your well-used walls. Your lungs fill with air suddenly as his grip falls away, leaving you sputtering. The ache from his grip is replaced with the delicate touch of his lips, dotting kisses across the softest part of your neck. He’s trembling as he relaxes. 

Soft Keishin has returned, but now you have no qualms with it. You wrap your arms around his head, bringing him into you. His chest rises in time with yours, expanding and contracting in sync, and silence falls over you as you both gather yourselves. 

 After a moment, you slowly peel your hands from him, cringing the way sweat has made your skin tacky, and ruffle your lover’s hair.  With a peck on the bridge of your nose, Ukai pulls out, muttering a halfhearted apology about the wet spot on the sheets. He pretends not to watch his cum leak from your abused hole, but you catch the proud smirk that tugs up the corners of his lips.

“I need to grab a smoke.” he admits as he reaches for his pants. He’s quick to pull out his carton and place a cigarette between his teeth.

You’re aching. Physically, your jaw twinges, your hips are pulsing, and the top of your head is sore to the touch- but emotionally, you ache at the thought of him leaving even for a moment. Without the feeling of his skin against yours, you shiver. The afterglow of sex has left you needy.

 “I’ll be right back.” he promises, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. 

You catch his wrist before he can stand, pulling him back into you. Ukai raises a brow as you scramble for his lighter on the bedside table. Wordlessly, you flick it on and Keishin follows your lead. He brings his mouth towards the lighter, sucking air through the filter until the orange glow crackles to life.

“You’re letting me smoke in bed?” he teases, pulling a drag as he crawls beside you. You take your usual spot in the crook of his arm, snuggling into the plushest part of his chest. “Are you sure I didn’t damage your brain or something?”

You shrug, motioning for the cigarette. He brings it to your mouth for you, letting you take in a deep breath. It burns the back of your throat when you release the smoke, but you swallow back the cough. You’d never admit it (you tell him all of the time that you want him to quit) but the taste of his brand had become comforting to you.

“Just this once.” you say. His chest rises with a silent chuckle as he drapes an arm around you. As your eyelids become heavy from exhaustion, you trace patterns over the scratch marks you left behind, admiring the pinpricks of blood that had dried on the surface. 

“Kitten’s got claws.” he remarks, pushing smoke out through his teeth. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “Gives me something to show off to the guys. I’m sure Takinoue and Shimada are gonna love to hear about how you did this when I spit on your-”

“Nevermind. Go smoke outside.” you huff, even as you snuggle farther into his skin, tangling your legs over his.

“I’m kidding!” he dots a kiss on the top of your head, “You’re too good to share.”

A/N: please be advised the real life choking can be dangerous. please reach before trying anything.

#ukai smut #ukai keishin

[98prilla]

Turned

Next

Previous

AO3

...

He didn’t know how long it had been, by the time he came back to himself. He was sore and stiff from being curled up in a ball in the corner in the dark, unable to chase away the lingering memories, the lingering voices that ran through his head, nearly making him curl back up in his hole until he died.

 But he was numb, now. He’d cried and panicked himself out, there was no lower he could sink, and it was too dark. Silently, he crept out of the closet, grabbing his backpack on the way out.

 He stared at it, the worn fabric, the resewn zippers, the thinned out fabric around the edges. It was the same one he’d used when he’d left the coven. It hurt more, this time. He closed his eyes, hugging the pack tight to his chest, bracing himself, surprised that he had any more tears left to cry.

 He’d made himself at home, here. He had photos of himself with the others on a fairy light with clips, illuminating Patton’s smiling face, Logan’s small smile, Roman’s boisterous laugh captured on film. He had shelves of books, fiction and otherwise, some Logan had gotten for him to further his knowledge of mythicals. His drawers, full of clothes, mostly from Roman trying to spruce up his wardrobe, though he was so damn good at getting his tastes right he could never be mad. He somehow managed to find the perfect sarcastic quoted tees for him, and they made him laugh every time Roman presented him with a new one.

 He couldn’t take it all with him. So much of it would be left behind, so much of his history with them would be lost, but maybe that was for the better. If he was out on his own again, he didn’t want anything that could lead anyone back to his family. His heart twinged, as he realized he wouldn’t be able to take any of the photos with him. Despite himself, he grabbed the one he’d snapped himself, of Roman, Patton and Logan, Patton in the middle with a stick of cotton candy, Roman pointing with delight at something off screen, Logan sighing, adjusting his glasses fondly.

 He set his phone down on the desk, another loss to mourn, but he couldn’t have anyone trace it, trace him. And he had to leave the laptop as well. Gods, this was hard, it was so much harder when he didn’t actually want to leave.

He took a deep breath, shoving the sturdiest of his clothes into the bag, along with his skull headphones and his old school mp3 player. Then he chose a few slim volumes from his shelf, that same book of sigils, his journal, and a small booklet of maps of the area. He scrubbed at his eyes, trying to steady himself against the heartbreak. The last thing he put in his bag was the stuffed animal spider Patton had got him a month into his recovery, when he was still bedridden on the couch from his broken bones. Patton was terrified of spiders, but knew they were one of his favorites. He’d woken up to a vase of violet irises, a wrapped box of chocolate chip cookies, the spider plush atop the box with a little, handmade card that read “are you a spider? Cause you’ve caught me in your web!”

 He’d named it Webby, in honor of Patton’s favorite ducktales character. Patton had nearly cried at that, and they’d spent the rest of the day together on the couch, binging it. It had some dark moments, for a cartoon, and now they always watched it together.

 He pushed back another wave of tears as he patted Webby once, before zipping up the bag and slinging it over his shoulder, opening the door with a final longing glance at his room, creeping down the hall.

…

Patton’s eyes blinked open at the slight shuffle from the hall. At first he didn’t think anything of it, he still wasn’t quite used to his heightened vampire hearing, every little thing, every creak of the house settling sounded loud as thunder, sometimes. But his ears perked when he heard a muffled curse, from the hallway, someone stubbing their toe. Instantly, he was awake and alert, eyes shooting up and locking on Virgil, who was furtively creeping towards the living room. He furrowed his brow at the pack slung over Virgil’s shoulder, and without further hesitation, flicked on the light.

 “Virgil?” His quiet voice immediately woke the others, and Virgil froze like a deer caught in the headlights. Patton inhaled sharply. Virgil looked terrible. His hair was slick and matted with sweat, his eyes wide and bags darker than ever, his face pale and breathing ragged. He looked paranoid and on the edge of either passing out or breaking down or both. He looked nearly as bad as he had, if not worse, in the days immediately after the attack. Virgil looked away, flinching, as if burned by Patton’s gaze.

 “Kiddo?” He asked again, voice dry, feeling worry clogging his throat at the defeated despondency in Virgil’s eyes, red and puffy.

 “hi.” Virgil mumbled in reply, voice hoarse and scratchy, as if he’d been screaming, or crying for hours, and his heart clenched again.

 “Virgil… why do you have your backpack?” Roman piped up, and Virgil bit his lip, face hidden in his bangs.

 “You were going to leave. You were hoping to avoid us by sneaking out late, not expecting us to be ‘camped out’ in the living room waiting for you.” Logan stated, not unkindly.

 “you’re gonna kick me out anyway. I figured this… this would be easier. Less… less messy.” His voice is strangled and choked, clutching the straps of his bag, trying to control his breathing.

 “Why would we kick you out, our stormy knight?” Roman asked softly, and Virgil bit back a sharp sob.

 “it’s f-fine. I wouldn’t want me h-here either. I-“ He broke off, inhaling sharply as his voice broke. “I w-wouldn’t trust myself, either.” That was enough for Patton. He stood, walking slowly to Virgil, gentle as he tipped his chin up, to meet his eyes.

 “I trust you, Virg.” Virgil shook his head, taking a stumbling step back, back against the wall of the living room as he shook his head.

 “You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t, you wouldn’t if you knew-“ He broke off, a sob clawing its way out of his throat. He didn’t fight Patton this time, as he pulled him into a gentle hug, burying his face against his shoulder, letting his bag drop to the ground as Patton pulled him closer, nestling his own head atop his, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

 “I d-didn’t know better, I d-didn’t think, I didn’t w-want to, but I c-couldn’t keep going, I just br-broke, I hurt so many people, pat, I k-killed so many people because I thought it was r-right!”

 “Shhh, I know, I know, honey.” He soothed, swaying gently.

 “You don’t though. B-before I left, before I thought for myself, Pat, if I had met you then, I would have killed you. Nothing would have mattered, except you being a vampire. I w-wouldn’t have thought twice. Remy, and J-anus, gods, Janus, he wouldn’t even give you a chance.”

 “virgil. I know. I read the stories, about all three of you. We heard the rumors and the reports and the deaths. That doesn’t make me love you any less. It doesn’t make me trust you any less. You haven’t given me a single reason to doubt you.” Virgil let out another sob at that, Patton barely managing to catch him as his legs buckled under him, probably from a combination of fear, relief, and exhaustion. Instantly, Roman was at Virgil’s side, hugging him as well, and Virgil clung to the two of them like a lifeline.

 “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was going to tell you and then I was too scared cause you all were so nice and I didn’t want to be alone again, so I just tried to forget it ever happened, and of course it can’t just go away, and I always do this, I always drag us into trouble, I’m never good enough to protect you.”

 “falsehood. You are enough, Virgil. You always have been. You’ve seen through traps and predicted dangers none of us would have seen coming. You’ve saved all of our lives several times over. It does not change what you did in the past, but what you did in the past does not change you to us.” Logan added softly, resting a supportive hand on Virgil’s shoulder.

 “I’m not good enough. I’ll never be good enough. No one will ever love me. I’m not worthy of it. I’m not… I’m a danger and a problem and that’s all… that’s all I’ll ever be.” Patton hissed at the tired, dead tone in Virgil’s voice, anger flaring to life as his eyes flashed red.

 “Who told you that, honey? I promise, they’re about to get a face full of angry papa patton!” Virgil looked up at him with those defeated, dark eyes, and he wondered how coherent Virgil really was, if he even really knew what was happening anymore, through his exhausted haze.

 “janus. W-who else would w-ant me? It’s f-funny, he lies a-about everything, but he was r-right about that.” Virgil slurred, then his eyes slipped shut and he slumped against Patton, unconscious. Patton pulled Virgil into his lap, gently stroking his hair, eyes blurring with tears as he tried to find his own voice.

 “he needs rest. He’s worn himself out, both physically and emotionally. He’ll probably be out of sorts when he wakes, as his brain shut down in order to allow him to recover as he needs.” Logan said softly, his own voice wavering slightly. Patton nodded, lifting Virgil and settling on the couch with his head in his lap. He tucked a blanket around him, teasing his fingers through Virgil’s hair.

 “Here.” Roman murmured, tucking Webby underneath Virgil’s arm, smiling smally as Virgil shifted with a small noise, clinging to the spider and pulling it close to his chest.

 “he was gonna take Webby?” Patton asked, voice trembling.

 “yeah. One photo of us, too. From the carnival. No phone, no way we would be able to contact or find him.” Roman answered, placing the photo carefully on the coffee table. Logan huffed fondly, looking at it.

 “What were you pointing at, Roman?” He asked.

 “There was a bouncy house obstacle course being blown up. We raced, and I almost got stuck in one of the tube tunnels, and Roman had to jump to my side to help pull me out.” Patton answered, laughter in his voice.

 “Yes, and then you and finding emo wouldn’t race me!”

 “Well, that seems a sensible descicion. I do seem to remember Patton coaxing all of us onto the pony rides, however.” Logan, a smile on his face.

 “Ah, yes, Georgia! My valiant steed!” Roman exclaimed. “I follow them on facebook, she’s a mother now! An adorable little spotted filly.” Patton awed, and even Logan chuckled, rolling his eyes.

 “Virg was so good with the animals, remember? He practically had the entire petting zoo surrounding him, even after he ran out of food. All the baby goats were sleeping on his lap. I’ve got that picture around here somewhere, too, it was so cute!”

 “I still think we should get him a pet.” Roman grumbled.

 “We have talked about this, Roman.”

 “What? Animals help with anxiety! Besides, I happen to know a pony…”

…

 It was dark. He wasn’t sure where he was, but it was dark. Flashes of movement out of the corner of his eyes, shadows flickering just out of sight. His mind felt slow, blurred, and dimly, he realized he was in restraints, chained to the wall. He pulled, hissing in pain as a sharp, steel collar bit into his neck, feeling warm blood trickle from the small puncture wounds.

 “Well, well, aren’t you just tempting me?” He flinched, a figure suddenly appearing before him with a slight whoosh of air, rough hands grabbing his chin and pulling him forwards. He hissed again as the collar dug into his throat, glaring as his gaze met those neon green, almost glowing eyes of his captor. “You certainly are a sweet little morsel. It would be a pleasure to drain you dry.” The vampire purred, and he shuddered as he felt the vampire’s tongue run up his neck, before he lightly nipped beneath his ear. He jerked back, but the vampire’s hand was firm, and he chuckled as he pulled away, examining his face. “So pretty, too. It’ll be such a shame when I finally kill you. But such a pleasure.”

 “What do you want?” He spits, trying to clear his head, trying to spark fire to life in his hands, light that will burn this abomination off the face of the earth, but he can’t do anything, his magic is being blocked, by the manacles around his wrists, no doubt.

 “I know you are.” He froze at those words, eyes narrowing.

 “I’m no one. Just a self taught magician. I’m afraid you’re mistaken.” The lie rolls off easily, and anyone else might have bought it. But this vampire just laughed, head thrown back, wild cackles piercing the air.

 “Oh, that’s a good try, pet. But no, you aren’t. You’re Deceit. You’re one third of the trifecta keeping me and my kin from ruling over you pathetic mortals.” He snarled, eyes flashing.

 “You won’t get anything out of me.”

 “I don’t need to. My coven members are following your sneaky little friend, Sleep, or should I say Remy? And any moment he’s going to lead right where we need to be.” He bites his tongue, fear eating him inside out.

 “You don’t need to keep looking. Anxiety is dead.” He said, truthfully this time, in a way, Anxiety was dead, had died the moment he left. “He’s not a threat to you.” He won’t drag Virgil into this, he can’t let that happen. Virgil may hate him, but he’d always respected Virgil’s choice to leave. He’d stayed away, kept Remy away, even when he so desperately just wanted to see his face, to see how he’d grown up, and he would not let this vampire steal whatever peace Virgil had found away from him.

 “I think we both know that’s not quite true. I’ve done my research, see. Oh, there’s plenty of beings who claim to have done the deed, but none have the proof to back it up. He’s still out there, and I won’t have him ruining things to try and save his little boy toy.”

 “He won’t! He doesn’t care, anymore, he won’t come for me, he won’t get in the way!” He shouts, hands clenched into fists, oh, if he had his magic right now this man would be struck down with all the force of a hurricane. As it is, he can only watch with a plummeting heart as the vampire grins, sharp canines showing, as he steps away.

“I don’t believe you. And even if I did, how could I pass up a chance to get the full set? You three would make quite a collection. So much fun to play with. I think I’ll start with your little Virgil first. Seems like you have a soft spot for him.”

 No. NO, the vampire had already known, had already found him, probably had his coven members at the house already, and he cursed Remy’s stupid predictability, his stupid sense of loyalty, he should have cut his losses and ran, not tried to get involved.

 His screams echo down the hallway as he pleads and begs and curses, pulling at his restraints, heedless of the blood dripping down his neck, the sores opening on his wrists, he screams his throat raw until he has nothing left, and slumps against the wall, defeated.

 “virgil. Please. Please hear me, please listen, please just run, just run” He whispers, tugging at the weak, tenuous strand connecting himself to Virgil, praying it’s enough, any of it, is enough to give him some warning. “I’m sorry.”

#sanders sides #tss #patton sanders #sympathetic patton #vampire patton #roman sanders #sympathetic roman #logan sanders #sympathetic logan #virgil sanders #sympathetic virgil #janus sanders #morally gray janus sanders #unsympathetic remus sanders #remus sanders #villain remus #vampire remus #captivity #abuse #janus angst #virgil angst #angst all around #eventual happy ending #hunter au

[threadsketchier]

Whumptober #28 - Beaten

I’m taking some major liberties here and using this as an opportunity to post a fic from like a year and a half ago (or probably more, I only know the date of the last edit on the doc) that’s sat in my Goog drive and doesn’t even have a real title yet.  The reference to today’s theme is only a minor part of the story, but I feel like the whole thing should be posted in order for it to read better.  I mean, everybody’s emotionally beat up in this, tbh.

Since it’s a bit lengthy I’ll use a Read More cut again.

@onwardintolight @culturevulture73 maybe you might like?  I’ll leave some additional notes for you after the end of the story behind the cut.

A familiar and blessed roar thundered through the ship as it bucked in response, catching the occupants of the cockpit off guard and tossing them back. The stars flared and stretched to infinity, pointing the way to freedom.

Incredulous relief rushed through Leia Organa despite the cacophony of electronic shrieking, Wookiee howls, and the histrionics of a spurned protocol droid exploding through the open hatch. Blowing out a harsh breath beside her, Lando cursed softly and muttered, “No, that was too close.”

Leia could only stare out the viewport for a moment, still not quite believing the last-second, well-nigh miraculous jump to hyperspace, half expecting it to be nothing more than a delusion. But the distant steady purr of the hyperdrive reassured her they'd truly made it. Against all odds. Again.

Anguish knifed through her heart at the absence of the one person who would have been crowing the loudest at this latest cheat of fate. She winced as the background din began to grate on her still-raw nerves and looked up at Calrissian.

“I'm on it,” he replied, obviously grateful to have something that could use his immediate attention—away from her. But he paused before exiting, casting a concerned glance at the third figure in the cockpit who hadn't yet moved or made a sound. Leia gave a small shake of her head. Go. I'll see to him, it said. With a hesitant nod Lando departed and mercifully shut the hatch behind him. Everyone's shouts and oaths and noises were still audible but muffled, easier to ignore.

Leia sighed quietly and turned to sit sideways. In the seat behind her Luke was motionless, his face rigid in a blank, glassy stare directed at the deck. She reached out with a light touch and murmured his name to draw him back to awareness.

He flinched at the mild intrusion, blinking and finally focusing on the hypnotic swirl of hyperspace. Insensible from shock, he'd taken no notice of what had happened in the previous few minutes. His wide eyes flicked back toward hers with the same disbelief she'd just felt.

“Yes, Luke, we made it. We're on our way back to the fleet now.”

Inwardly Leia fretted, If it's still there. Enough time had passed that concern about the location of the main Alliance fleet wasn't unfounded. Their last appointed rendezvous above the galactic plane should have been relatively secure, but if anything had caused them to scatter again while she and Han had been out lost and limping between systems...she didn't want to consider the consequences right then.

She and Han.

Not now. Luke needs me.

“I told you I'd be back,” she chided him gently. In their haste to flee Vader's encroaching flagship, she hadn't even had a chance to finish analyzing and treating him; his amputation had taken nearly all of her attention. The auto-tourniquet should have anesthetized the wound, but he was still cradling his arm protectively. Sorrowfully.

Barring an unforeseen shortage, Alliance medics would likely have a suitable prosthetic available in their inventory. Some short-term physical therapy and he'd be back in service. It was easy to consider things in such prosaic terms. But no amount of care was going to lessen or erase the trauma of what he'd gone through to suffer that loss. The damage she could read in his haunted demeanor was etched in as permanently as a tattoo, as irrevocable as the night terrors that lingered from her torment at Vader's hands. What psychotropic drugs had largely wiped from her conscious memory remained to emerge in the darkness between days. This was a kinship she would have never wished for Luke to share.

Alongside her worry and empathy for him bloomed a quiet amazement as well. Luke had faced Darth Vader in personal combat and survived. Less a hand and possibly his sanity, clinging to the literal edge of the bowels of Cloud City, torn and battered and bruised to a pulp—but he had survived. As distant as the hope now seemed, Leia could understand in greater depth the inspiration he posed to the Alliance as the resurrection of the Jedi Order. Destroying the Death Star had been an incredible feat, and his skill in flight for a man his age was exceptional, but this...this was going to make him a legend among the ranks, for better or for worse.

She didn't know much about his father beyond the rare and inflated talk that she heard whispered from time to time. But perhaps those tales about General Skywalker weren't all aggrandized vapor. In hindsight, Leia was somewhat surprised that her own father had never spoken of him when telling her the history of the Jedi. Those who were old enough to recall him in more detail had commented that Luke shared his looks, if not his height—as well as his recklessness and ingenuity. This day had proven that he carried more than a familial resemblance and fleeting, propaganda-fueled dreams of lost power.

Smiling faintly, she cupped his unmarred cheek in her palm to beckon him. “Come on.”

He seemed to gather himself a bit, drawing strength from the silent reassurance she tried to project to him. As she rose he stood shakily to follow her, and she draped his left arm across her shoulders. He leaned into her, his breathing labored with pain she had yet to address. A twinge of anxiety wrung her stomach at the possibility that he might have more extensive internal injuries.

Outside of the cockpit, they were met with a disgruntled Chewbacca nursing a sore head and an even sorer mood. Lando was down on one knee beside R2-D2, his attention fixed on the still-one-legged and precariously balanced C-3PO. “He said, sir, that the hyperdrive has indeed been fully repaired and is operating at peak functionality. It had merely been deactivated.”

Hearing them approach, Lando quickly glanced up at Leia. “Princess, I swear to you, my techs did as they were instructed. I had no idea—“

Gods, she just wanted to punch him. To break those perfect rows of teeth and the jaw that held them, make him bleed the way her soul was bleeding out from the gaping hole torn in her heart. In that moment she didn't care that the weight of an entire city must have pressed down upon him far more than the memory of a dubious friendship, just as she had tried to hold Alderaan fast while offering up Dantooine as a sacrifice. Every muscle in her body and razor shard of her spirit wanted to hurt him as terribly as he'd hurt her—

“Thank you.”

Her thoughts of violence jolted to a halt at the sudden, ragged whisper by her ear. Lando stopped and stared back at Luke, no doubt wondering about his state of mind when he was breaking into a conversation he wasn't even a part of.

“Thanks for bringing me in,” Luke said softly. He had no idea. All he knew of this man was that he was another ally, one who had aided in their escape and been willing to climb aboard the Falcon's windswept hull to pull a total stranger to safety.

Looking profoundly uncomfortable, Lando averted his eyes for a moment before waving away the gratitude. “It was nothing,” he mumbled.

Leia relinquished her anger in a long, slow breath. For Luke's sake she would cover it for now, like a dormant volcano beneath a glacier. Shielding herself in ice once more, she fixed Calrissian with a regal glare of dismissal and addressed Chewbacca instead. “Chewie, would you plot our next course?”

Deep-set blue eyes mirrored her own tension and grief, conveying the silent understanding between them that the former baron was not to be allowed near the controls for the rest of their journey. With a low whuff he set aside his tools and headed for the cockpit, to exit hyperspace and take several more randomized jumps before finally setting route toward the fleet.

As she passed by the droids, R2 gave a mournful little hoot at the sight of Luke's condition. Precocious astromech that he was, Leia still mouthed down at him, Keep an eye on Lando. His photoreceptor swiveled and winked at her and he replied with an affirmative chirp. Far less discreet, C-3PO exclaimed loudly while brandishing his detached leg, “Oh, poor Master Luke, you're in nearly as dreadful a state as I am! Did those horrid stormtroopers dismantle you as well?”

Leia turned her head back and shot him a look that threatened to smelt him where he stood, but to her surprise Luke coughed out a small, brittle laugh. “No,” he croaked, more to himself than the droid. “Not them.”

“Well, sir, rest assured, you'll soon be in excellent care, which is far more than I can say of this negligent, insensitive little swillpot...” His rattling and R2's ear-splitting retorts echoed down the passageway to the medical cabin.

A thorough scan with the medisensor revealed no other serious injuries beyond some bruised ribs, a couple of mild sprains, and dehydration, though he was practically one massive contusion from head to toe. Before going any further, Leia loaded an ampoule of painkiller into a hypospray and prepared to clean a spot on his exposed shoulder to deliver the dose, but paused when Luke leaned away from her, eyes flashing in fear.

It took only a moment for her to comprehend. “It's non-narcotic,” she reassured him, and he slowly dropped his gaze.

No, she knew all too well, she thought grimly. Sleep was the enemy, although his body would desperately need it. Later, between bacta treatments and surgeries, he would have no choice. But she would not force him into it now.

With a pair of shears, she carefully cut away the tattered and filthy remnants of his jacket and singlet to undress him without causing his arm any further discomfort. In the cool air of the ship, and at the icy bite of antiseptic solution and bacta salve, he began to shiver and curl in on himself. “I'll be done soon,” Leia whispered, trying to soothe him. He shut his eyes tightly as she dabbed at the scrape on his cheekbone, but she suspected it had nothing to do with the sting of her ministrations. She could tell he wanted to cry but was holding it back fiercely.

His last words to her on Hoth emerged from her memory. I have to go away for a while. Still simmering from her argument with Han, and not expecting to hear that both of the men she'd grown to care for so deeply were leaving her, she'd been too upset to let him continue. It hadn't been the first time Luke had stepped away from the Alliance for his own reasons either; not long after Yavin he had told her, Until I'm something more than I am now, I shouldn't even be here.

He had considered himself a danger, a liability, to both their tightly-knit group and the Alliance at large, as an untrained Jedi. The truth was that they were all hazards to each other, made vulnerable by the bonds they had allowed to form in spite of the risks they faced each day. The moment that Lando had revealed Vader's true motive for their seemingly senseless torture, everything had fallen into place with a terrible clarity. With his strong connection to both the Force and them, Luke had to have felt their pain; it was the only way he could have known exactly where to find them when their location was completely unknown to him.

Leia wondered where he had been all this time, where he'd managed to discover another place to learn the Jedi ways. Beneath ozone, sweat, and blood, the musky and mineral scents of wet earth and rotting vegetation clung to his fatigues. It had to have been a verdant, swampy place. She longed to ask him all about his experiences, but now was not the time. Perhaps never. While a limb could be replaced, his father's lightsaber could not, and this time there would be no retrieving it. Although he had been rescued, it was as if his soul had fallen away into the depths of Bespin's clouds, and only the shell of his body remained with them.

“There.” Disposing of the small pile of wrappers and gauze she'd made beside him, Leia stood and draped the blanket around his shoulders. “I'll be back in a few minutes.” She needed to bring him water and some clean clothes and extra bedding to make him at least a bit more comfortable while she finished treating him. But as she turned away his hand abruptly darted out and caught hers, stopping her.

“We'll get him back, Leia.” His voice was raw and thin, but held an edge of durasteel. “I swear.” Despair and determination fought against one another in his bloodshot gaze, and she realized he was clutching at the words as a lifeline, a promise not only to her but to himself. The sense of failure threatened to devour him just as it nipped at her heels and breathed down her neck daily, and if Han was lost forever, they would both be swallowed up.

If it would save him, she would stand in the path of the ravager and let it consume her first. She was well acquainted with her hunter. But now that they ran this road together, she knew he would never leave her side, and would only do the same for her.

Perhaps together, they might no longer be prey.

Leia nodded solemnly and squeezed his cold fingers in return, and kissed his cheek.  Slowly, reluctantly, he released her hand, as if letting her out of his sight for even a moment would shatter the illusion that he was safe, that she and everything else around him was real.

Yes, they would get Han back, because they had to.  Because it was the right thing to do.  Because she didn’t know how she would survive otherwise, not after she’d finally bared her heart and soul to him, too late.  But she wanted Luke to understand that even if they didn’t—even if they had to face a future alone, bereft of a lover and a brother—he would not be worth any less to her.  He had not failed them.  It was not his fault.  To convince him of this, however, would be futile now, and for a long time to come.  All she could do for now was to help mend his broken body, and hope she could eventually reach the broken spirit within.

***A/N: We all know Lando Did Nothing Wrong™.  He made the most ethical choices he could on the fly when faced with Imperial subjugation, and went above and beyond to help both The Squad and his own citizens.  The intention of this fic was to cover the time period between their escape from Bespin to the closing scene of the movie where we can see them all recovering and with an obviously repaired bond with Lando.  Leia was meant to have an arc in which she comes to empathetic terms with Lando’s actions and realizes she doesn’t need to “forgive” him, as he really has nothing to apologize for, though he does, because he’s an upstanding and thoughtful guy.  But here, she’s like a wounded animal, raw and furious and hurting, and she’s human.  Leia should be just as vulnerable to her own personal dark side as much as her brother, and I prefer not to shy away from showing that.

#where everything is terrible & everything hurts #whumptober2019 #no.28 #my fics #star wars #leia organa #lando calrissian #luke skywalker #chewbacca #c-3po #r2d2 #ESB

[katjacksonbooks]

And here we are at the end! 

Even though the first request was about Monica, Kierra and Lane, this was the hardest to wrap my head around because these three should be running around the world, causing havoc (and then fixing it!) but now they can’t. And while Lane and Kierra respond fairly well to that, Monica doesn’t. 

So I guess I just want to tell you all that however you’re feeling is valid and I hope you’re taking care of yourself. I also hope you’re reaching out to people who can support you emotionally, make you laugh, hang out on the skype chat while you cry, and tell you gently that you might never be a famous baker but your misshapen loaf of bread looks good. 

If you’re looking to read more with these three, check out Pink Slip and New Year, New We at these retailers

Pink Slip: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Kobo 

New Year, New We: Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple, Kobo

You can also pick up these books for whatever you’d like to pay as part of the Three Is a Great Number bundle on payhip

And/or you can request these ebooks at your local library on Overdrive. 

Be well <3

Isolation Day 4

 Monica was working at her desk.

She’d been there long enough that her back ached, her eyes were tired and dry, and her vision was just a bit blurry, but she didn’t want to check the clock. She didn’t want to know how long she’d been here or how much longer she planned to be here.

“Quitting time, boss,” Kierra said in a surprisingly sunny voice.

Monica only looked up at her briefly, not long enough to let herself actually see her. “Okay,” she said, cringing at her dry voice and sore throat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d called Kierra for anything to drink. Her eyes darted to the corner of her desk, and she spotted a full bottle of water, untouched.

“You coming?” Kierra asked.

“No, you go. I’ll be up in a bit.” Monica turned back to her laptop and tried to focus on the words on the screen, but her left eye was so tired it had started to burn.

“No, thanks,” Kierra said. “That doesn’t work for me.”

Monica looked up with a frown. “Excuse me?”

“I said that doesn’t work for me. You down here until after midnight, falling asleep at your desk doesn’t work for me. Let’s go.” As she spoke, Kierra walked toward Monica’s desk, and then she boldly pushed Monica’s laptop closed with her left hand and placed both hands palms down on Monica’s desk.

Monica was tired, but not too tired that her eyes didn’t dip down the deep v of Kierra’s shirt, where her breasts swayed slightly under the fabric. Monica frowned. She could have sworn Kierra had been wearing a bra at the beginning of the day.

“Let’s go,” Kierra said in a surprisingly hard tone that Monica had never heard from her.

“I only have two folders left to go through,” Monica said even though she didn’t need to justify her decisions to Kierra. She was the boss.

“Great,” Kierra said, holding Monica’s eyes with a sedate stare. “I’ll make sure they’re on your desk first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Quitting time,” Lane trilled as he came to stand in her office doorway. Monica almost lifted her eyes to him, ready to tell him to take Kierra upstairs, but she was certain that if she looked away from this standoff, Kierra would take the upper hand somehow.

“As I was telling Kierra,” Monica ground out, “I’ll be down here for a little longer.”

“And as I was telling Monica, that’s not an option. We’re off. Let’s go home.”

“You two alright?” Lane asked.

“We’re fine,” they said at the same time.

“My dick says otherwise,” Lane muttered.

“Don’t make me fire you,” Monica whispered to Kierra. She didn’t mean it, but if this was a powerplay, Monica was going to win; she always did. Or she always did under normal circumstances. There wasn’t any bite to her threat, and surely, they all knew that, but she didn’t expect Kierra to laugh.

It wasn’t necessarily full of mirth it sounded sarcastic, and maybe even challenging. This was yet another sound Monica hadn’t ever heard Kierra make. Her breasts, however, moved, invitingly.

“Oh, please,” Kierra said, “please fire me. I would love to watch you look for another PA who’s going to make sure your favorite coffee shop makes your lattes extra hot so that by the time it gets here it’s the perfect temperature, or who happily drives to get your favorite cheese from that bougie artisanal place, or who comes in early to print, collate, and organize all your work just the way you like it — from most to least annoying — and who does all of that in five-inch heels and a full face of makeup she’ll happily let you mess up whenever you like. Please. Fire me.”

Monica’s office was thick with tension, and not the sexual tension the three of them were used to. The silence stretched for an uncomfortable minute, and then Monica sighed and stood from her chair.

“Fine,” she said.

“Great. Who’s hungry?” Lane said with a single clap of his hands.

Kierra’s face transformed from a challenging stare to pure glee. “I’m starving,” she trilled in the high-pitched voice Monica recognized. She reached for Monica’s arms and held onto them with both hands, sidling up to her and pressing her soft breasts into Monica’s side.

“Are you hungry?” Kierra whispered to Monica in a gentle, warm tone.

Monica looked down at her, and now that she wasn’t sitting in her chair and her back could stretch — and twinge — she realized that she was hungry. And thirsty. And tired.

She nodded down at Kierra as Lane wrapped his arm around Monica’s waist, and he pressed a kiss to her temple. “I think I’m gonna fry some chicken,” he said in his thickest Texas accent.

 Isolation Day 10

 Monica was back at her desk.

Today she was compiling a list of her agents and assessing their needs.

Kenny was home with Maya and working some digital recon for some of their active missions currently on hold while, according to Kierra and Lane’s talk over dinner, helping Maya make some new self-isolation content for her cam channel. Apparently, it was going over very well.

There were a few agents who’d had to shelter in place while on a mission, which was dangerous and threatening to give Monica an ulcer. Some of them would likely be fine, while others were being forced to live in their covers twenty-four hours a day with limited or no access to their actual lives; their partners or parents and, in one case, their children. Monica was most worried about them and had been trying to figure out how to extract her agents without blowing up cases that had taken thousands of hours to put together. If that couldn’t be achieved, she was also working on her justification to her bosses about why her people were more important than the missions and hating that she might ever even have to state something so obvious.

“Drink some water,” Kierra said, placing a large glass on her desk.

“Thank you,” Monica replied, distracted.

“Now.”

Monica looked up at Kierra. She was standing on the other side of Monica’s desk with her arms crossed over her chest and that same hard glare on her face. Monica would have challenged her, but a glass of water was a foolish thing to pick a fight about, so she grabbed the glass and began to drink.

As soon as the liquid hit her tongue, she realized how thirsty she was, and she kept drinking, gulping the entire glass down in a few swallows. Kierra watched her the entire time.

Monica placed the glass back on the coaster, and Kierra snatched it up. “I’ll bring you another,” she said and then turned to flounce out of her office. Monica watched her leave and noted the bright smile on her face as she turned to wink at Monica over her shoulder, the bounce in her step, and the way her round ass jiggled under the skirt of her flowing dress.

 Isolation Day 15

 Monica slept in. She never did that.

Usually, she woke up before Lane or Kierra, and she was such a light sleeper that sometimes Kierra’s tossing and turning would wake her up in the middle of the night. But somehow, today, she’d slept through Lane and Kierra not only waking up but, knowing those two, fucking and then noisily getting ready together. That never happened, and it was actually a little bit worrying.

She rushed out of bed to shower and wash her hair, but the rush left her once she was under the spray. She took her time shampooing and conditioning her hair and decided to shave her legs while she was there. And then she took her time moisturizing her body, combing a leave-in hair mask into her hair. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and then grabbed one of Kierra’s sheet masks and slapped it on her face while she picked out an outfit to wear.

She felt like an entirely new person — or like herself before all this — as she walked into Command.

As soon as she sat behind her desk, Kierra came rushing into her office with a cup of coffee in one hand, a muffin on a plate in the other, and a stack of files under her arm.

“I rescheduled your phone meeting with Asif, Lane’s handled that Skype chat with Chanté and Kenny, and here’s the new resource list for the op in Brussels. Let me know if you need anything else,” Kierra said. She placed everything on Monica’s desk, the food and coffee to her left side in easy reach and the files in front of her. And then she brushed her lips across Monica’s cheek before rushing from the room.

 Isolation Day 21

 “Quitting time, boss,” Lane said, standing in her office door with a tired smile on his face.

“I just have another email to send,” Monica said.

“Is it mission critical?”

“No, but I just want to get through it, and I might double-check the intel Carlisle sent yester—”

“No.”

Monica looked up at Lane. He was still smiling at her.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, no need to apologize,” he said with a brighter smile and a shrug. “I was sent down here to tell you that Kierra’s been baking bread all damn day, and she grilled some steaks for dinner.”

“Well, I’ll be up in a few,” Monica said through clenched teeth.

Lane laughed and shook his head. “It’s real cute, this thing you two have going on. You can come upstairs with me, or you can wait ‘til she comes to get you. Either way, we both know your presence at that dinner table is non-negotiable.” There was a pregnant pause between them. “Boss,” he added definitively.

Monica sighed and rolled her eyes. And then she stood from her chair. “That’s my girl,” he trilled at her.

 Isolation Day 30

 Monica had been under the shower spray so long that her fingertips were wrinkly. She’d lost track of time.

She turned the water off and stepped from the shower.

Kierra was waiting near the door. Monica wasn’t sure why, but seeing Kierra there staring at her made her feel…guilty. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t know what, and there was something about standing naked and dripping wet under Kierra’s gaze that made this moment seem slightly disconcerting.

“It’s Saturday,” Kierra said.

Monica squinted and frowned, “It is?”

“It is. Lane and I cleaned out the jacuzzi today. It’s hot now. We’re going to relax in it. All of us,” she said, just in case Monica was unsure. She’d been doing that a lot over the last month, telling Monica what the three of them would do day-to-day instead of asking. At first, it was shocking in its unfamiliarity, but now it had just become the new normal.

“I don’t know,” Monica hedged.

“I do. Now come on. I’ll let you pick out my bikini,” Kierra said and then walked into their bedroom.

***

“Oh, this feels good,” Lane groaned as he relaxed into the hot water.

“Is it helping your back?” Kierra asked.

Monica turned to Lane with furrowed brows. “What’s wrong with your back?” she asked, alarmed.

Lane grabbed Monica’s thigh under the water and squeezed. “Nothing but age,” he said. “Nothing but age.”

Kierra pressed herself against Lane’s other side and ran her nose against the sharp cut of his jaw. Monica noticed that Lane’s beard was thicker than he normally grew it, and she was shocked at how much gray there was there, much more gray than brown. There were soft wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth, and she wondered if all those things had appeared over the past month or if she was just now noticing them.

And then her eyes flitted to Kierra. She looked so much younger than Lane, but there were changes with her, too. Her perfectly manicured nails were now bare of color and not as meticulously manicured as Monica was used to, and her shoulder-length straight hair was wavy now, with thicker, wavier hair at the roots.

But the thing that caught Monica’s attention wasn’t any of these superficial changes to their presentation, but the way they made her feel.

Lane squeezed her leg again, and Kierra opened her eyes to look at her.

“It’s okay,” Kierra whispered. “You can cry.”

And somehow, it was only when Kierra said the word that Monica realized that’s what she’d been running from over the past month and that she already was crying. Her eyesight blurred with the wetness in her eyes that soon spilled down her cheeks.

Lane moved his hand over Monica’s lap to pull her closer to him, and the small movement was like an invitation she didn’t know she needed. She collapsed into his side and buried her face in his neck. Lane turned his head and kissed her along her hairline.

And Kierra, who had become harder and more demanding as Monica had withdrawn into herself, practically draped herself across Lane’s chest to get to Monica. She wrapped her arm around Monica’s back and kissed her shoulder.

They held her while she finally cried.

 Isolation Day 31

 “Let us take care of you,” Lane whispered against her lips.

Monica wanted to protest that she took care of them; that was her job, but he pressed his mouth to hers, stopping her from being able to protest. And she let him. She didn’t know if it was the isolation fucking with her sense of time or just the intensity of this moment, but it felt as if it had been years since Lane had kissed her this way.

His mouth moved gently and slowly against hers, prying her lips open slowly by degrees before he slipped his tongue past her lips. Their tongues slid together and apart and together again as his hands roamed down her sides.

Monica wrapped her arms around his neck, playing with his hair — that was getting longer than she normally liked — but also keeping his mouth close.

Lane’s hips circled, pressing his erection into her mound. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he shifted his hips, the column of his shaft slipping between her lips.

She moaned into his mouth, and he smiled in return.

“Can I taste you?” he whispered again.

Monica moaned and nodded, somehow too overcome with how easily he knew exactly what she needed, even though he always had.

She closed her eyes and relaxed against the pillows as he kissed down her body, his beard, lips, and tongue creating an erotic sensory mix everywhere he moved. He sucked at her nipples, scraping them with his teeth, and licked the sensitive skin underneath the mounds of her breasts. He dipped his tongue into her navel and swirled his nose through her pubic hair, breathing in and smelling her.

She was dripping wet by the time his tongue swiped over her clit.

“You ready?” Kierra asked.

Monica opened her eyes to see her behind Lane’s body, wearing the soft leather harness they’d bought her for their one-year anniversary. She was watching Lane’s head move between Monica’s legs with a hungry stare while her right hand obscenely stroked the dildo sticking out from her body, spreading a healthy amount of lubricant over the shaft.

Kierra had spent days finding a dildo that perfectly matched her skin tone. Monica had thought the endeavor was ridiculous but understood that it was exactly the kind of thing she would do, and it was worth it.

Monica shivered at the sight of her looming over them, beautiful and eager as ever.

“Are you ready?” Monica asked, her voice breathy with desire as Lane’s tongue massaged her opening.

Kierra’s eyes lit up. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

“Probably not as long as me,” Lane interjected quickly before getting back to work on her pussy.

Kierra rolled her eyes with a smile and then moved her hands to Lane’s ass.

Monica started massaging her breasts and lightly pinching her nipples as she watched Kierra prepare Lane. She couldn’t see all her movements, but she knew better than nearly anyone what Lane liked, and she could probably guess from the way his breath hitched over her pussy and his fingers dug into her hips what Kierra was doing.

Lane shivered between them, and Kierra looked up at Monica with a triumphant smile on her face just before she lowered her mouth to Lane’s body.

“Oh, fuck,” Lane yelled out as Kierra rimmed him, probably circling the pucker of his ass with her tongue.

Monica knew better than most how talented Kierra’s tongue was, and she shuddered. She moved her hands to the back of Lane’s head and directed his mouth back to her pussy. And then she shuddered through the ripples of a small orgasm as Lane’s moans joined his tongue in pushing her over the edge.

“Are you ready?” Kierra whispered.

Lane’s body jumped, and his back arched. Kierra’s left hand was moving rhythmically, and Monica realized she was jacking him off, and it was her turn for her back to arch as another orgasm took her over with more intensity.

But Monica watched with rapt intensity as Kierra moved her dildo into place.

Lane’s grip tightened on her, and he panted hard breaths into her hip as Kierra slowly slipped inside him.

“Put your fingers inside me,” Monica told Lane, and he complied quickly, still panting and now groaning as Kierra pushed inside.

“Am I hurting you?” Kierra asked, her smile slipping the tiniest bit. “Is it too big?”

“Fuck. No,” Lane ground out.

“He’ll tell you if you need to stop,” Monica added.

Lane grunted in a kind of assent as he shoved three fingers so deep in Monica her thighs were shaking.

“Now fuck him for me,” Monica demanded, feeling something settle inside her, something she hadn’t realized had been out of place before this moment.

And as if they all knew that something wrong had been made right, Lane ducked his head between her legs and started eating her out again, and Kierra gently took hold of Lane’s hips and started fucking him in slow long strokes that made him come apart between them. And Monica watched Kierra concentrate on Lane’s body, listening to every sound he made and shift of his body, giving him exactly what he needed and, by extension, giving Monica what she needed.

The sure knowledge that they would always take care of each other.

[another-blog-bites-the-dust]

Lap of the gods.

Summary: Two gods from different worlds prove that opposites really do attract.

Warnings: drinking but apart from that-none!

A/N: Here it is! The first part of my Greek god!au 😁 I can't wait to share it with you all! This first part is a bit short as it's just a brief introduction to Persephone!Roger and Hades!reader 😊 I hope you enjoy!

Part one.

——————

"Do you think she'll come?"

"It's been aeons, I wouldn't hold your breath. She's rarely one for parties, especially up here..." Brian glanced around at the polished white marble, gold statues, the clouds and the sky that seemed to stretch on forever. Various gods and goddesses were drifting around him, laughing and throwing their heads back as they downed wine. Brian, also known as Zeus, stayed beside his brother, John- who was known as Poseidon- for most of the night. They held a party for their father, it was his birthday and had invited all the Grecian gods and goddesses to celebrate.

Including you. Their introverted, lonely, powerful, dark, depressing sister. The god of the underworld. Many knew you by Y/N- others by Hades.

John let out a long sigh before groaning "Aphrodite is here..."

Brian glanced over and sighed "Just don't make eye contact with her and- wait...who is she with?" He narrowed his eyes at the god chatting to her.

"Isn't that Roger? You know, Persephone?" John questioned.

"You're right, it is Persephone...well...Roger. I know him now. God of spring and vegetation...I wonder what he's doing talking to her." The two kept an eye on him before he finally managed to escape Aphrodite's constant droning.

The party was in full swing, the sun was preparing to set and half of the sky was already a deep purple and dotted with stars. The gods in Mount Olympus were full of laughter and joy.

That was until a cloud of black smoke appeared in the middle of the marble floor at Mount Olympus. Gods and goddesses moved to the side in a state of panic. Guards had drawn their weapons and pointed it at the figure appearing out of the smoke.

"Y/N?!" Brian and John both yelped with shock at the same time. Brian commanded the guards to stand down, your eyebrows warily raised at the circle of weapons surrounding you, unimpressed with your greeting.

"What a lovely, warm welcome..." you sarcastically uttered. You noticed all eyes on you, light muttering filling the air. "Perhaps my friend was right...hell is empty and the devils are all here."

Your eyes narrowed and you lightly sneered at everyone sticking their noses up and gossiping about you. You stuck out like a sore thumb, there was no denying that. Everyone was draped in white and gold while you were shroud in a black, knee length dress and heels. Each step you took towards your brothers, bursts of bright, red hot ambers floated off the bottom of your sole and heel, dancing in the air around your feet before disappearing.

"W-we uh...why are you here?" Brian asked, clearly shocked at your unexpected arrival.

"I was invited, wasn't I?" You unintentionally snapped. "He's my father as much as he is yours."

"Yeah, yeah of course! We're just surprised!" John sent you a small smile "You never come to Mount Olympus- ever. Not even for parties or anything! It's a surprise- but a nice one!"

You shrugged "Well, it's a special birthday for father. He's one of the oldest gods who has ever lived, the least I can do is show my face for a bit," you glanced around and saw people still whispering about you. "Looks like I'm going to be the talk of all the palaces in this so called paradise." You turned back to your brothers "Where's father?"

"Right here my...darling." Your eye twitched and you felt your nose twinge a little hearing his bittersweet voice, unsure if he could even call you his 'darling'. It pained him to say it. You could tell.

Nevertheless, you turned to him with a genuine smile "Hello father, happy birthday," you approached him and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek- he couldn't help but lightly hiss, you were burning hot. "Mother," you bowed your head and took her hand, bringing it to your lips to greet her. She winced. Then she tried to discreetly rub her hand to alleviate the searing hot pain. Your heart would have sank if you had one.

You physically had one yes, but not emotionally. You were ruthless, reserved, powerful. Your heart was there but it didn't work properly. It hadn't beaten for most of your life.

Brian cleared his throat "Lets enjoy the party!" Your mother and father clapped with a grin and headed off to celebrate and mingle with all the other guests. "Can I get you something to drink, Y/N?"

"No thanks," you held your hand out and with a burst of fire and smoke, a goblet appeared in your hand. "I have my own..." you smirked and took a sip of the dark, burgundy coloured, pomegranate wine. John and Brian glanced at each other "So what has been happening?"

"Not much," John replied "Pretty much everyone is here. Including Aphrodite."

You rolled your eyes and let out a long groan "Keep her away from me. She sinks her claws into anyone and everything that moves." You flickered your eyes over to her, her back was facing you and she was laughing obnoxiously loud. "Mortals have corrupted her," you turned back to your brothers "She's driven more by lust than anything now." You took a gulp of wine, downing the whole cup. Seconds later, the liquid reappeared. "I don't think I'm very welcome here..." you nonchalantly remarked "Not like I really care. Why is everything here made of glistening white marble? It's horrifying!"

"It's not our fault you live in a dark, depressing mansion that's engulfed with flames." John muttered and you felt a growl rub against your throat. "Well it's true! I was there almost a year ago visiting you and it's taken me pretty much up until now to get over that experience!" You laughed at that and everyone looked over at you, shocked that such a melodic, happy sound could leave the mouth of someone like you.

All the guests were scowling. All except one. One was smiling at the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

"I remember that visit! I tricked you into thinking you had drank a blended doomed soul!" John huffed and crossed his arms, you playfully jabbed his sides and he flinched "Stop being so...like me." You swore you saw the corner of his lip twitch upwards. You scanned your eyes over the crowd before they stopped on a figure in the distance. Your skin was as hot as fire but you felt frozen. "Who...is that...?" You whispered.

Brian and John looked over to the god you were looking at and then looked at each other, sharing a smirk. "That's Roger-"

John cut Brian off "-Also known as Persephone, the-"

"-The god of-"

This time you were the one to cut Brian off "-Agriculture, Spring and vegetation." You flinched back into reality when you heard your name being drunkingly shrieked.

"Y/NNNNN!"

Before the goddesses arms could be wrapped around you, you grabbed her wrist and she could feel your burn. "Hello Aphrodite." You bitterly greeted and she got the message, stepping back a little.

"Where have you been?" She batted her eyes.

"I've been in hell," you forced a fake grin and your brothers sniggered from behind her. You took a long sip of your wine "I think Poseidon wanted to ask you something..." you smirked and looked over Aphrodite's shoulder to John who was frantically shaking his head with a grimace while waving his hands, desperate not to speak to her. She gasped and flung herself at him while you walked off and found solace on a balcony overlooking the earth as the sun set and stars burst with a twinkle of light onto the night sky.

"What are you drinking?"

You moment of solitude was spoiled when a voice appeared out of nowhere. You turned your head with wide eyes, surprised that anyone would talk to you. They quickly returned to normal before you turned back to look at the sunset, eventually answering the god- who had brightly coloured wildflowers scattered in his hair that was blowing in the breeze- beside you.

"Pomegranate wine..." you took a sip.

"Sounds interesting," the god leaned his back against the balcony railing "Can I try some?"

"Unless you would like to be eternally bound to me and spend the rest of your days with me in the confines of my underworld then I suggest you don't try it." You took a bigger sip this time, something about this god intrigued you.

A moment of silence passed before he spoke again. "Sounds interesting...can I try some...?"

You could hear the playfulness and cockiness in his voice and it made you laugh. "Funny as well as handsome. That's a deadly combination."

"You'd know all about deadly combinations."

You slowly turned your head around to him with a devilish smirk plastered across your lips. "Tell me, Roger..." his eyes widened ever so slightly, surprised that you knew his name. For a deadly goddess, you said his name so sweetly. "Have you ever sinned?"

Roger gulped at the tone your voice, it was smoother than the finest of velvets. It was just as dark and mysterious as you and it was luring him in. "I-I don't think so..." he managed to croak out.

You let out a breathy chuckle "Of course you haven't!" Your laugh fizzled into silence "You are unbelievably pure." The word was like venom on your tongue. You took a drink of your wine just as your goblet had refilled. "You and I are very different."

Roger was quick to respond "The last I heard opposites attract." His hasty remark caught you off guard which made him coyly smile. "Enjoy the rest of the evening, Y/N..." he drawled out your name in the same tone you used as he walked backwards away from you, emphasising a dramatic bow. You watched him with curious eyes as he disappeared into the group of gods and goddesses, only catching glimpses of him when you were lucky.

He wasn't like the other gods. Something about him sparked your curiosity.

•••

A few hours later you approached your brothers. "I'm not very welcomed here," you felt the eyes of everyone burn into your back "I'm going home."

John nodded "We understand. It's those behind you who don't understand you..." he trailed off and you looked over your shoulder at a huge crowd of people before looking over your brother's shoulder.

Roger was the only one standing behind them.

You looked away for a brief moment before regaining composure. "Such a poetic statement, John. I thought the sea was supposed to make you salty, not sweet." You smirked and he playfully nudged your arm. "I shall see you both soon. Perhaps on mutual ground, this place is too good for me and hell is too bad for the pair of you."

"Earth it is," Brian said "Thank you for coming Y/N. I'm sure it meant a lot to father."

"Indeed it did!" A booming voice came from behind you and you spun on you heel to face your father, your mother was lost in the crowd "I appreciate you visiting."

"Well you never visit me..." You were unintentionally bitter. Letting out a sigh, you mumbled an apology. "I didn't mean that," even though you knew you one hundred percent fully meant it.

You father held up his hand "No, no...I deserved to hear that. You're right. Perhaps I'll pop down for a little visit sometime." He took your hand in his, despite the heat causing him great discomfort.

"You said that four centuries ago..." you sadly smiled and pulled away your hand "I know you won't." In a flash of thick black smoke you had disappeared, returning to your home and away from those who hated you.

But- excluding your brothers- there was one person at the party who didn't hate you.

In fact...they rather liked you.

———————————

Part two

Tags: (tag list of open! Just let me know if you want to be tagged!)

@rrrogah-tayluhh @rogerofmylife @phantom-fangirl-stuff @pyrotechnic789 @deacytits @mercurys-bike @thatgeekspeak @mhftrs @dannydelay @queenismylifenow @whitequeen-blackqueen @stateofloveandvedder @blondyfel @wolverinesbeer @11mb0

#roger taylor imagine #greek god!au #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor #roger taylor x you #roger meddows taylor #ben hardy! roger taylor #ben hardy! roger taylor x reader #ben hardy x reader #queen #brian may #freddie mercury #john deacon #bohemian rhapsody #rami malek #borhap #gwilym lee #ben hardy #joe mazzello #borhap movie #borhap imagine #queen imagine #queen imagines #bohemian rhapsody imagine #bohemian rhapsody movie #brian harold may #john richard deacon #deaky #hades and persephone

[inconvenient-sneezes]

oh my gosh the detention prompt for steve and jonathan from stranger things? with steve as the sick one?

of course, anon! 

for everyone else, this was the prompt: we got in a fist fight and now have detention together and I’m only getting you tissues and offering my jacket because your sneezing and shivering is getting on my nerves. I am definitely not concerned. 

hope you like it! ⭐️(there’s some injury whump so i hope that’s ok!)

***

It’d only been one day since Jonathan had beat Steve to a pulp and yet here they were together. Detention.

Jonathan was in the front desk, staring straight ahead, and Steve was seated at a desk behind him, sulking.

His eye was still swollen shut from where Jonathan hit him and Steve’s entire body ached. He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable. 

The teacher at the front of the room shushed him without looking up from the book he was reading. Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes and groan. Sitting in detention and in silence was a new type of torture. All Steve could think of was Nancy and how horrible he felt, physically and let’s face it, emotionally. 

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop and with a sinking feeling, Steve realized he was going to sneeze. He swallowed nervously, felt how sore his throat was, and before he could do anything real to stop himself, sneezed. 

“H-heh’SHHUHH!” A chill ripped through him and he felt his skin react with goosebumps. Come to think of it, maybe there was another reason he felt so achy. 

“Bless you,” the teacher said as he stood up. “I’m going to the teacher’s lounge. Not one of you move a muscle.” He glared at Jonathan and Steve before leaving. 

Steve sniffled and swallowed, feeling like there was a lump in his throat. He cleared it. 

“Can you quit?” Jonathan asked, turning around to look at him. 

“What are you looking at, freak?” It was a feeble attempt to sound mean. 

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Your constant sniffing. It’s annoying.” 

Steve sniffled. “Oh, it’s annoying, is it? Yeah, by all means, I’ll stop.” He sniffled again, on purpose this time. Unfortunately, this one triggered another sneeze. 

“Hh’TSHHUHH!” Steve felt his eyes water and snapped forward with a second. “Heh’SHHH!” 

“Okay, now you’re just doing this on purpose.” 

But Jonathan stared at him and started to pick up on a few key details. Steve was pale and sweating, with dark circles under both eyes. His right eye was swollen shut and looked painful, and Jonathan felt a twinge of guilt. As Steve sniffled again, Jonathan watched his nostrils twitch.

“H-hahh… hah’SHHHUH!” Steve sneezed into his hands but heard Jonathan get up. 

He blearily opened his good eye, just in time to see Jonathan toss a handful of tissues in his general direction. Despite himself, Steve grabbed a few and buried his itching nose in them, blowing. 

“You know, it’s because your sneezing is so damn annoying,” Jonathan said. “I still think you’re an asshole.”

Steve shivered, teeth chattering. “I k-know. I hate you too.” 

Even so, he let Jonathan give him his jacket.  

***

request some stuff/give me feedback!!

read more stuff!!

#ask #asks #requests #request #drabble #snz #snez #snzfic #snzblr #strangersnz #anon #Anonymous

[serenagaywaterford]

re reading god made me a hungry woman for like the fourth time it's just so good, but I've got a question. does Serena dislike Hannah? or do you think Serena just hasn't thought about how babies grow up and form full personalities where they might have certain qualities she wouldn't like? she was irritated with Hannah when they were escaping in the car, in the thrift store and in the coffee shop and she says she "hates when children do this"

Here’s my take, and bear with me: no, Serena doesn’t dislike Hannah but there are few issues she hasn’t quite... dealt with. And yeah, a lot of it is she-- like you said-- hasn’t quite reconciled that babies grow up.

Firstly, Serena has never actually had a child, or been around children that much (as far as we’ve seen anyway). She likely has some picturesque version of what having children is like. The day to day irritating monotony of raising a child is alien to her. Especially since when we do see her around children it’s either a)babies (which are very different to toddlers/young kids), and/or b)for limited time periods and with other women who are the caregivers (whether they are other Wives or the Marthas). Even in 3x06, Serena weirdly just sits off to the side and stares at Rita and the Marthas playing with the children. She doesn’t engage. Just sits there drinking her coffee and having treasonous conversations with June. I don’t think Serena herself is prepared for the reality of children, especially once they go beyond infancy. She strikes me as someone who has a lot of lofty ideas about what it’s like but no concept of actually what it’s like, especially outside the rigid structure of Gilead where kids are not as well-behaved and have more freedom. So when Hannah whines in the backseat, Serena finds it annoying cos she puts too much stock in children being well-behaved and suddenly this kid isn’t. Also, Serena is petty. She doesn’t quite get that kids’ brains don’t work like adult ones. So, it’s not so much about Hannah specifically but more the reality of children that she’s not entirely prepared for.

Secondly, Hannah represents something a little more complex to Serena. Hannah is the reason June did basically everything she did in Gilead. Hannah was always coming up in conversation, especially when Serena thought she was actually bonding, it turned out it was really just about Hannah for June. (Which DUH. That’s June’s baby!) So, there’s a twinge of jealousy? Resentment? Like Hannah, without even being around, was a huge catalyst for everything and the main focus of June’s life. Is this a healthy or nice way for Serena to think? Absolutely not. But hey, she’s not a nice lady and she’s very jealous like all the time. I wouldn’t put it past her to be jealous of a child occasionally. She’s just that small.

Thirdly, and this is purely in my fic world, Hannah is Luke’s kid and so she has connection to Serena, and only represents June and Luke’s love, which is not fun for Serena to face. She is, because she’s so insecure and selfish, uncomfortable being reminded that June was so deeply in love before. Nick is much easier to write off than Luke. And Hannah’s past, it’s something she wasn’t a part of and never will be fully. It’s not her place. And that is totally not Hannah’s fault but Serena again... isn’t the greatest person, to put it mildly. Even in my fic, she’s grown a bit but not that much. Serena just doesn’t have a connection to Hannah at all and she reminds Serena more of Luke, which is a sore spot. Cos Serena is emotionally immature.

But I mean, mainly it’s the first thing. She’s just not prepared for reality of being a parent. The bit in the coffeeshop was more about kids in general, once again, rather than Hannah specifically. She hates when any kid just says whatever is on their mind, or asks questions that adults may find inappropriate. And specifically at that point she was wildly embarrassed too so she was seeking somewhere to place blame for that feeling, and hey, a kid is an easy target. Bad parenting to blame a kid for just being a kid, but again, Serena is a dumbass and hasn’t quite wrapped her head around kids not being perfect tiny grownups yet.

So, yeah, honestly, it’s not really Hannah specifically for the most part. She doesn’t dislike her. It’s just her lack of experience being around children more casually and more often, and especially not in situations outside the structures of Gilead. Essentially, Serena has no foresight. Ever.

#Anonymous

[xxwarriorkitty]

Long Black

Photo credit: © spin off

Park Jin Young (ft. Jaebum, Yugyeom and Bam Bam)  |  Single Dad AU, Angst, Fluff  |  18,185 words

This is a behemoth of a story because once I got the idea of Single Dad Jinyoung stuck in my head, there was no turning back. Enjoy! 😘 

“Just go talk to him already.”

I blinked, my head turning back to my friend, cheeks already heating up at being caught. “Hmm? Who?”

Jihyun narrowed her eyes at me. “Who do you take me for, Kang Ryeo Won? You’ve been staring at Book Guy for the past ten minutes. With your mouth open, might I add?”

“Was not,” I muttered out a quick denial, before furiously moving my pencil across my sketchbook as if I had been deeply engrossed in my work and not staring across the café at the man we’d come to nickname ‘Book Guy’.

He was, as he often did, sitting alone in front of the tall glass windows, a steaming cup of coffee in front of him as he buried his nose in yet another book. I came to this café often because it was near my apartment, and he did too. He was a friend of the owner, Im Jae Bum; I could tell from the way the latter often sat down and chatted with him when there weren’t too many customers. We saw each other so frequently that sometimes, we would smile at each other politely when our paths crossed, but that was the extent of our acquaintance. We never spoke or exchanged names, hence the nickname. Once in a while, Jihyun would meet me here and each time, if Book Guy was here, she’d tease me mercilessly and try to goad me into talking to him. It’d never worked before, and it was definitely not going to work today.

“I don’t know what you’re so afraid of,” Jihyun said, not buying my words. “Aren’t you a little too old to be crushing on a cute guy from afar?”

“I’m not crushing on him,” I refuted, glancing up at her. “And stop staring at him, or he’ll know we’re talking about him.”

“Good,” Jihyun stated. “It’s about time someone did something about this suffocating situation.”

---

“For god’s sake, just go talk to her already.”

Jinyoung turned, startled at the voice. He hadn’t even noticed that Jaebum had sat down across from him at the table. He blinked, putting down his book and clearing his throat. “Talk to who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Jaebum said. “You’ve been staring at Sketchbook Girl for the past ten minutes. With hearts in your eyes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jinyoung denied, flushing. He took a hurried sip of his coffee, before wincing at how hot it was. “What the hell do you make your coffee with? Volcanic lava?”

“Hellfire,” Jaebum deadpanned. “Because you’re a goddamn liar. Ever since she started coming here, you’ve been coming here twice as often. When are you going to stop looking at her from afar and finally talk to her?”

“I…” Jinyoung opened his mouth to argue, but he glanced across the café again at Sketchbook Girl and he felt his words die. He did like her, didn’t he? He liked how she always looked so engrossed in her work, her pencil flying across paper. He liked her oversized sweaters and how her long brown hair tumbled down her back in waves. He liked how she’d absent-mindedly twirl her pencil between long, slender fingers, and how she sometimes scrunched her nose up when she was stressed. He sighed, knowing it was pointless to lie to his best friend. “I’m just not ready to date again, alright?”

“And when will you be?” Jaebum asked point-blank. “It’s been years, Jinyoung. You haven’t even looked at another girl all this time. Isn’t it time to move on?”

“It’s not about moving on,” Jinyoung said. “You know things aren’t that easy for me. And besides, I have other priorities. Dating is just too much effort.”

“She doesn’t look like a very high-maintenance girl to me,” Jaebum pointed out. “I’m sure she’ll be cool, you know, if you guys end up dating.”

“Stop staring at her, or she’ll know we’re talking about her,” Jinyoung hissed at his friend. “And anyway, how do you even know what would be cool with her? You don’t even know her name.”

Jaebum snorted. “Kang Ryeo Won.”

“Huh?”

“Kang Ryeo Won,” Jaebum repeated. “I know her name. She pays with her credit card.”

Jinyoung rolled his eyes at his friend’s smug grin, although internally, he was thinking that her name suited her. It was unique and pretty, just like her. “Good for you.”

“Now, make your move, stupid. If you won’t, I will.”

---

“I’m not asking him out,” I said firmly. “I’m done with dating, remember?”

“Okay, so you’ve had really shitty luck with men,” Jihyun admitted. “But take a good look at this guy! He isn’t like one of those artsy, broody, emotionally-damaged kind that you seem to have a knack for choosing. He’s the serious intellectual type – I mean, who even reads actual books now? And most importantly, he looks like he actually has a job.”

“Thanks for that glowing review of my life choices,” I scowled. “It’s not like I have any time to date anyway. Did you forget that I have that showcase coming up?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “You took leave from work, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I did,” Jihyun assured me. “Do you even have any idea how many favors I cashed in at work to have a Saturday night off?”

“You owe me,” I stated. “You swore you were coming to my last two shows and both times, you bailed at the last minute.”

Jihyun smiled sheepishly. “I promise I won’t this time. But, I can look at your work in your studio. Why do you need me to be there among all those stuffy rich people when you know I stick out like a sore thumb?”

“Well, I stick out too, and I need you there for moral support! Also…”

“Excuse me.”

I trailed off mid-sentence to see Jaebum standing beside our table. I inclined my head in greeting. “Yes?”

Jihyun tried to wave him away when he started to place a plate with a slice of cake on it on our table. “Oh no, we didn’t order any…”

“This is from the gentleman over at that table,” Jaebum said with a smile. “It’s already paid for.” He set down some cutlery on the table before picking a napkin up from his tray. Instead of putting it down on the table, however, he handed it straight to me. “Enjoy.”

I could only blink in confusion as Jihyun started squealing in excitement. I looked down at the napkin in my hand. There was some writing on it, scribbled hastily with a ballpoint pen.

A row of numbers, with two words above it: Jin Young.

---

That night, I lay in bed, holding that napkin. My eyes trailed towards my phone, sitting on the bed beside me.

Should I…?

I traced a finger lightly over the letters, as if I were worried that they might disappear. I didn’t know what I was supposed to feel. On one hand, I was slightly annoyed that he’d placed so much power in my hands by having me be the one to make the decision whether to make contact. On the other hand, hadn’t he already made the first move? Although, it wasn’t something I’d imagined a person like him to do, scribbling his number on a napkin to ask a girl out. He looked like much more of a gentleman, like the kind that would ask politely, face-to-face.

Or maybe not.

What did I know? Up until this afternoon, I hadn’t even known his name.

Jinyoung.

My eyes glided over the name, a silly smile lifting the corners of my lips. What a beautiful name. Elegant and refined, just like him. The image of his face, his bright, doe-like eyes and shy smile, floated into my mind.

I’ll do it.

It was just a friendly gesture, right? I ought to at least thank him for the cake. It was just polite. No biggie.

I grabbed my phone before I could change my mind. I was about to give him a call when I caught sight of the time. It was almost 11 at night. Wasn’t it too late to call? I hesitated. Maybe I’ll drop him a text instead. Determinedly, I opened up a new chat window, typing his number in. I quickly typed in a message, and then deleted it just as quickly. Chewing on my lip, I started crafting another line, which I also deleted. After doing this tango with myself four or five times, I finally had a decently worded message that I thought sounded just cool enough without sounding too desperate or disinterested.

Hello, is this Jinyoung? This is Ryeowon, the girl you gave your number to today. I just wanted to say thank you for the cake you sent over. It was delicious. Nice seeing you today too.

Knowing that I would change my mind if I hesitated any longer, I quickly pressed the ‘send’ button. The moment I did that, I slammed my phone down onto the bed, kicking my feet under the blanket from all the nerves. Then, I composed myself again. Well, what’s done was done. There was no room for regret. Now, all I could do was wait.

And I waited. Minutes went by and my phone was silent. Just when I consoled myself with the thought that he might have been an early sleeper, my phone dinged with a message. It was pathetic how fast I jumped on it, eagerly opening up the message. I was just killing myself with the anticipation of what he would say, but when I read his message, my face fell.

Hi Ryeowon, there must be a mistake. I didn’t send over any cake. By the way, how did you get my number?

A million thoughts ran through my mind. Could I have made a mistake? Was it not him? Did I get the wrong number? I checked the napkin again. No, there was no mistake. I had texted the correct number. I quickly fired back a reply.

Are you Jinyoung? The one who always sits by the window at Jus Coffee, reading a book? Jaebum brought some cake to my table and gave me your number on a napkin, saying it was from you.

The next message came a lot quicker.

Yes, that’s me. I’m assuming you’re the one who’s always sitting near the plant, drawing in your sketchbook? I’m really sorry, but I’m afraid Jaebum was up to some mischief. I never asked him to do either of those things. I’m sorry to have caused you to misunderstand.

I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment at that. So it was a practical joke? I didn’t know Jaebum very well, so I had no idea why he would do such a thing. Perhaps it had been well-meaning, like how Jihyun was always trying to set me up with guys. Oh well. From his messages, it didn’t seem as if Jinyoung was very interested, but I’d taken my shot, so at least, Jihyun wouldn’t bug me about it any further.

Ah, I see. There’s no need to be sorry, since I got free food out of it. Don’t worry, I understand. I also have a friend who’s always trying to get me to date someone. Sorry to bother you so late. Have a good night!

I put aside my phone, sighing. It was a long shot anyway. At least he was nice enough to say things plainly instead of leading me on. He was tons better than all the shitty guys that I did end up dating. Still, I couldn’t help eagerly clicking on the next text message that came in.

Yes, isn’t that a real pain? I’m really sorry. Next time we run into each other at Jus Coffee, let me buy you cake for real as an apology. Have a good night.

---

“Excuse me, Ryeowon…?”

I looked up from my laptop, brows creased in annoyance at the interruption. However, my features instantly relaxed when I saw who it was standing in front of me. “Oh… Jinyoung?”

He smiled as he held out a small plate. “I’m here to deliver my apology cake, as promised.”

“Oh, uh…” I straightened, scrambling to gather some of my papers so I could clear a space at my table. “You didn’t have to.”

“I want to,” he said pleasantly, setting down the plate. “Enjoy.”

My heart was pounding as I watched him talk. Technically, it wasn’t our first conversation, since we’d had one over text, but it was the first time we were speaking face-to-face, and it felt weird. I’d admired him from afar for so long that it felt as if a celebrity had stepped off the screen and was talking to me. I’d never heard his voice before, but it was exactly like how I imagined it – soft, gentle and refined, just the way he appeared.

I was so tongue-tied that it took him actually turning away for me to realize that I hadn’t said anything. “Hey, um… do you want to… maybe, um… sit here?”

Jinyoung paused, eyebrows raised. “Really? It’s alright, you look pretty busy and I don’t want to disturb you.”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, internally cringing at how desperate I sounded. “I’m not that busy. Could probably use a break anyway.”

Unexpectedly, Jinyoung nodded. “Sure.” He pulled out the other chair at my table and sat down directly across me, setting down the book he’d brought with him today. Then, there was an awkward moment of silence as we just looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Thankfully, Jaebum broke the silence by choosing that moment to appear.

“Iced Americano for the gentleman,” he announced, setting down Jinyoung’s drink. Then, he placed a drink in front of you. “And a long black for the lady. Your usual.” He handed Jinyoung’s card to him, grinning. “I charged it to your card.”

Jinyoung snatched his card back with narrowed eyes. “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” I said bemusedly, watching their interaction.

“Enjoy,” Jaebum said, bowing deeply before sidling away.

Jinyoung gestured to him. “He’s really annoying, isn’t he? I apologize for him.”

I chuckled. “He’s nice. You guys seem really close.”

Jinyoung nodded. “Yeah, well, we’ve known each other since high school. That’s a good…” His eyes rolled upwards as he counted in his head. “…fifteen years. Wow, we’re much older than I imagined.”

“That probably explains why he tried to set you up with me,” I quipped.

“And I’m really sorry about that,” Jinyoung said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I told him a million times that I wasn’t interested in entering a new relationship, but he went ahead and did it anyway. I hope it didn’t make you feel uncomfortable.”

“No, don’t worry, I totally understand,” I replied with a wave of my hand. “My friend does the exact same thing to me. I don’t know why she acts like singlehood is a disease. She doesn’t believe that people choose to be alone.”

“One good thing did come out of it, though,” Jinyoung pointed out, smiling shyly. “I’m sitting here, talking to you. I made a new friend.”

I nodded, smiling back. “Yeah, so did I. Now we can actually talk to each other instead of smiling awkwardly every time we see each other.”

“As long as I’m not disturbing you,” Jinyoung said. “You look like you’re doing something important.”

I made a face as I looked down at my order forms. “Yeah, well, it’s incredibly mundane stuff, really. I’m having this showcase this weekend, and there’s all this paperwork to get through. When people told me to chase my dreams and be an artist, nobody told me that I’d have argue with contractors over screws and light bulbs and how many millimeters my fishing lines have to be in order to prevent my paintings from crashing upon the heads of buyers that are going to pay next month’s rent.”

Jinyoung looked intrigued. “Ah, you’re an artist, then? No wonder I always see you drawing. Do you have to take care of all the logistics on your own, though? Can’t you hire someone else to do it?”

“I do have an agent,” I explained. “But trying to put together a whole event is just a lot of work. I’m painfully introverted, so he has to do all the bits that involve talking to people – inviting guests, finding buyers, gathering media, coordinating with the owners of the venue… In exchange, I take the less glamorous aspects of it. If I could actually get up there and mount the lights and paintings myself, I’d do it, but you know… Sorry, I’m boring you with details, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not,” Jinyoung assured me, shaking his head. “It’s sounds really interesting. I work as an editor in a publishing house, so all I do is sit around and look at words. Trust me, I’m not easy to bore.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You read for a living, and you still choose to do it in your free time?”

Jinyoung smiled sheepishly. “I really do love reading. In my job, I read a lot of seriously terrible writing. I feel like I need to read good writing whenever I can so that I can balance it out. And also, it helps me do some market research about what’s out there, and what people are reading.”

“So essentially, when you’re relaxing in a café, you’re actually still working,” I pointed out.

Jinyoung chuckled. “I need a life, don’t I?”

I shrugged. “I’m the last person to judge. I rarely do anything exciting.” Then, I had a thought. “Unless… Never mind, you wouldn’t be interested anyway.”

“No, please tell me,” Jinyoung said, leaning forward in his chair. “I’m open to any suggestions you have.”

“You could come to my showcase.”

“This weekend?”

I nodded. “I mean, only if you’re interested. It’s just a small event in a gallery, and I’m displaying a series of paintings about the banality of life in a big city.” I started getting self-conscious. Why was I even inviting him to see my work? He was a complete stranger. I could sense myself rambling at some point, but like a train careening off its tracks, I couldn’t stop myself. “But it’s probably not your scene. Hell, it’s not even my scene. I just smile and nod and pretend to be some snooty, eccentric artist when in actuality, small talk terrifies me. I’ve been trying to get my friend Jihyun to come with me, but she keeps bailing on me at the last minute. In fact, I’m sure she’s going to send me a text any minute now and—”

“I’ll come.”

My train came to a screeching halt and for a moment, I could only stare blankly at him. “What?”

“I’ll come,” Jinyoung repeated, with his trademark smile that brought out the creases in the corners of his eyes. “I can be your company for the night. And it’s been a while since I went out to appreciate art. It’ll be fun.”

“Oh, I’ll, uh…” I looked around the table, flustered. “I’ll have my agent add your name to the guest list.”

Jinyoung raised an eyebrow mischievously. “Really? Just like that? What if someone pretends to be me and tries to get in?”

“I’m not even famous,” I said with a laugh. “Nobody would be interested to crash my party. Seriously, you don’t have to come just to be nice. I’m sure you have better ways to spend a Saturday night.”

“I don’t,” Jinyoung assured me. “And I want to. I really want to see your work.” He smiled again, causing my heart to skip a beat. “I’ll see you on Saturday night, Ryeowon.”

---

Saturday rolled around really quickly. I spent the day on my feet (and sometimes even on my hands and knees) just trying to get everything in order for the opening that night. It was evening before I knew it, and my agent had to physically remove the tools from my hands and force me to take a shower and get changed. I managed to put on a slinky dress, apply some make-up and sweep my hair up into what I hoped was an understated by classy up-do, just as the first guests started arriving.

Well, here we go.

For the first hour or so, I was whirled around the gallery by my agent, where I smiled and greeted people while downing champagne to make the night go by easier. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was terrible at small talk. I mostly allowed my agent to lead the conversation, chiming in only when I was asked a question. Among the circles, I was known to be a real ice queen, but I supposed being an artist meant that no one really took offence to that. Most people just accepted that us ‘creative types’ had our own quirks and eccentricities, and that was something I was thankful for.

My name was all over the place, and the event was for me, to celebrate the work I’d just completed, but to be very honest, I was bored out of my mind. If I had it my way, I’d never have a showcase. Unfortunately, the reality of my work was that I needed people to buy my art in order to keep making art, and hence, I had to make it through these events. To make things worse, Jihyun had, expectedly, bailed at the last minute. Which was why I was exceptionally relieved when Jinyoung walked in through the door.

I hadn’t pegged him for an art person, but he looked like he belonged here. He was dressed in a black and white checked suit with a black t-shirt underneath, standing perfectly on the line between casual and dressy. He caught my eye and gave me a smile, which I returned, and gestured that he was going to walk around while I finished my conversation. I nodded, and waited for my agent to finish his spiel about how I’d gotten my inspiration for the piece we were looking at, an abstract piece titled ‘To: You’. He was going on and on about how it was about a lost lover (it wasn’t), and the buyers, a couple in their fifties, were lapping it up. I waited for him to stop talking, and for the couple to look at me with sympathetic eyes, the wife touching a hand to her heart, and to offer me their deepest condolences.

I finally managed to escape. I found Jinyoung standing in front of a painting, his hands in his pockets as he stared intently at the canvas. I snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and sidled up beside him. “May I offer you a drink, sir?”

He turned to me with a smile. “Thank you.” He gestured to the room. “I took a walk. Your work is beautiful. Although I’ll be very honest here – I don’t think I understand any of it.”

I clinked my glass with his. “Well, thank you for being honest. I didn’t make my art to be understood. Artists aren’t game masters setting puzzles to be decoded, you know?” I lowered my voice. “It’s part of the reason why I hate these things. Everyone’s trying to interpret my art and come up with some kind of ‘correct’ message, as if they aren’t just looking for something to class up their interior design.”

“An artist that hates it when people appreciate her work,” Jinyoung commented with a laugh. “That’s something new.”

“Well, they can appreciate it silently,” I pointed out. “Most people are just talking aloud because they want to appear smart and cultured. It’s as if they’re superior beings if they can ascribe some kind of meaning to my work or partake in ‘artspeak’, if you will. It’s awfully pretentious. If you listen closely, you’ll realize that they’re saying a lot without saying anything at all.”

“You sound like an expert,” Jinyoung said bemusedly.

“I am,” I agreed. I cocked my head with a smile. “Is that doubt I hear in your voice?”

Jinyoung chuckled. “I’m sure not everyone is that bad.”

“Oh yeah?” I challenged confidently. “Alright, let’s play a game. We walk around the gallery, and every time we hear someone say something pretentious, we drink.”

“Just to be clear, what constitutes ‘pretentious’?” Jinyoung asked.

“When someone calls my work ‘provocative’, for example,” I pointed out. “Or talk about how I’m trying to portray some kind of ‘sensibility’, or ‘inner conflict’. Or show some kind of ‘complexity’. Oh, and every time someone says something about the human condition, we drink twice.”

Jinyoung was laughing by this point. “You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious,” I answered. I grabbed his hand. “Alright, let’s go. I swear you’ll understand when you actually hear it.”

The rest of the night was actually a lot of fun. Jinyoung and I hovered around behind people, listening to them talk to each other about the works they were looking at. (To be fair, my agent was also going around trying to perpetuate all these cryptic messages because apparently things sold better if you had a story.) And tonight was turning out to be a bountiful night, because there were a lot more weird comments going around than usual. Jinyoung realized very quickly that he did recognize completely vapid artspeak when he heard it. Midway through the night, we added ‘sublime’ and ‘interwoven’ to our list. It was safe to say that by the end of the night, we were both light-headed and giggly from the effects of bullshit and too much champagne. At some point, we found a corner to hide in and just talked to each other. He was a fascinating person. He talked about his work, and his interests, and the books that he enjoyed. He had a way of speaking that was just so pleasing to listen to. I didn’t even realize that we were the last two people left until my agent came up to me.

“Ryeowon, good news…” he started, before realizing that I was holding on to Jinyoung’s arm to keep myself upright. “Are you okay?”

“Yeap!” I said chirpily. “What’s the good news?”

“We sold everything but one piece,” he said. “And it happens to be the one you said was your favorite.”

I turned to Jinyoung and scoffed. “See? I told you nobody really understands my art.”

We stood in front of the aforementioned painting, a piece titled ‘You Are’. It was by far the darkest piece in terms of color, and the only one on which I’d used black paints quite liberally, but in terms of the meaning that it held for me, this was the most hopeful and uplifting one. It depicted a dark room, with a window in the center of it, looking out towards a patch of sky. I tried to capture the sky at twilight, just before the sun set, which was why I used hues of purple, pink and orange.

“Tell me what you were thinking when you painted this,” Jinyoung said softly beside my ear.

“Nothing much, really,” I answered, staring at the painting. “This was the one piece that came really easily. I was struggling to find inspiration, and I was in a space where I was doubting everything that I had done. And I just looked out of the window, and suddenly, I just felt really lucky. Just to be able to have a job that I like, that affords me little luxuries like looking at the sky when I want to.”

“That’s beautiful,” Jinyoung said, looking straight at me. For a while, neither of us said anything. Then, he turned to my agent. “Do you still have room for one more buyer? I’ll take this piece.”

---

The last leg of the night was a little blurry to me. I remembered being light-headed and giddy with excitement when I left the gallery, waving away my agent, who’d offered to give me a ride. Somehow, I ended up taking a taxi with Jinyoung, and somehow, he’d insisted on walking me up to my apartment. Somehow, we ended up stuck outside my apartment door as I struggled to remember the passcode to open my door.

“Fuck, why isn’t this opening?” I grumbled as another obnoxious beep sounded, indicating that I’d keyed in the wrong code again.

“Is this even your house?” Jinyoung asked, laughing softly so he didn’t wake my neighbors. He looked up at the unit number above my door, reading it aloud. “Is that correct?”

“Yes, it is,” I insisted, jabbing random numbers now. “Do you think I’d not know my own address?”

“Well, I’d assume you would also know the passcode to your own door, but here we are.”

I glanced up from my attempt to crack the code to my front door. “Are you laughing at me?”

Jinyoung shook his head cutely, pursing his lips. “I most definitely am not.”

Okay, he’d definitely had too much to drink. And clearly, so had I. Why wasn’t the goddamn code working?

Jinyoung’s hand shot out, holding mine so I would stop pushing random numbers on the keypad. “Stop doing that. If you try too many times, it’ll think you’re a burglar and lock you out.” He shook with quiet laughter. “Or worse, your security company will be alerted and we’ll be arrested.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” I whined. “We’re stuck out here anyway.”

“Just stop,” Jinyoung said, tugging me away from the front door and inadvertently closer to himself. “And think.”

“Think,” I repeated. We were standing so close to each other now that I could smell the musky, slightly spicy scent of his cologne. When I lifted my eyes, all I could see were his lips, tantalizingly within reach. He looked down, his eyes meeting mine, and I could see him stop breathing. He swallowed, and I could see that he was trying to clear the fog in his brain. For a moment, I thought he was going to release me and move away, but he didn’t. Then, in the next moment, it was clear that neither of us were thinking when the gap between us slowly disappeared, our lips meeting.

I was most definitely, certifiably out of my mind. Other than the fact that I barely knew the guy, he had very clearly friend-zoned me. And friends in the friend-zone didn’t make out with each other. None of that seemed to matter as he tangled his fingers in my hair, shaking it loose from the pins that held it up. His lips moved fervently against mine, with passion and longing that definitely was not supposed to exist between friends. I felt a light-headedness that had nothing to do with the alcohol. As he pressed me against the door, I slipped my hand under his blazer, delighted at the hard muscle that I felt beneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt. His hips rolled against mine and a low, delicious groan left his lips. My hands slipped under his t-shirt as his tightened around my waist. Everything was too fast, and too much, yet not enough at the same time. Were we really doing this here, in the corridor outside my apartment?

A loud ringing sound rudely jerked us both out of the haze of lust. We jumped apart like two guilty teenagers, breathing hard. I looked away, trying to rearrange my hair and clothes as Jinyoung fumbled in his pocket for his phone. He glanced guiltily at me before stepping away to answer it.

“Hello?” he greeted, trying to catch his breath. “Yeah, I, uh…” He stopped to look at his watch. “I’m really sorry. I ended up staying later than I expected… Yeah, I’ll come over now. Sorry.”

I wiped my lips surreptitiously, willing my senses to return as I tried not to overhear him. Unfortunately, it was late and the hallway was quiet, so I heard every word despite him whispering. My sobriety was fast returning to me as the awkwardness set in. I turned away, trying my electronic lock again. The traitorous thing sounded with four successive chimes as the mechanism unlocked. I could have sworn I’d entered the same numbers the last ten times. Now, it looked like I’d gotten it wrong on purpose.

“Well, whaddya know?” I announced lamely, turning to Jinyoung. Neither of us could meet each other’s eyes now, and from the apologetic look on his face, I could tell that he regretted our transgression as much as I did. I would like to say that didn’t hurt me, but the truth was, it did, a little bit.

“I’m sorry,” he said, although I wasn’t sure what for. “I have to go. You’re uh… You’re alright?”

“Well, yeah,” I answered, pointing to my open door. “You should go. To you know, whoever’s waiting for you.”

He looked embarrassed. “Right. Um, it’s not… Yeah. Well…”

“You got a little…” I gestured to the corner of his lips, where my lipstick had transferred. Maybe I was enjoying his discomfort a little. Not like he didn’t deserve it, for being so infuriatingly confusing and impossible to read.

“Right,” he said, quickly wiping his lips. He didn’t successfully get it all, but I didn’t tell him. He bowed, retreating. “Goodnight, Ryeowon.”

“Goodnight, Jinyoung.”

I slipped into my apartment without waiting for him to leave first. When the door was firmly shut behind me, I leaned against it, letting out a long exhale. What on earth had just happened?

---

“Maybe he’s married,” Jihyun speculated, her voice hushed.

I gave her a blank look. “No ring.”

“He could have taken it off,” Jihyun countered. “Or maybe he has a girlfriend.”

“He said he was single and not looking to date.”

“Gay?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “His friend tried to set him up with me, Jihyun. And trust me, from how he kissed me that night, definitely straight.”

“Maybe he has performance issues,” Jihyun said gravely. “I heard that after 30, the risk of having some kind of sexual dysfunction goes up exponentially.”

“Or, he’s a perfectly normal guy who’s just not interested in me,” I suggested. “How’s that for a radical idea?”

“Well, it just doesn’t make sense,” Jihyun huffed.

“You know what doesn’t make sense?” I pointed out. “You bailing on me even though you said you wouldn’t. This is all your fault.”

“Someone called in sick, okay?” she defended. “I couldn’t just walk out.” She looked across the café at Jinyoung. “Besides, it’s not my fault that you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. What I want to know is: how he does he go from jumping your bones to, you know… this?”

I did know what she was referring to, unfortunately. Today was the first day Jinyoung and I had crossed paths after that night, and it had been unbelievably… friendly. Jihyun and I were already at our usual table, and when he’d come in, he’d come over to say hi, and then headed off to his usual table and started reading. There wasn’t even a hint of awkwardness in his behavior, or any indication that anything out of the ordinary had happened. He’d just been a regular polite acquaintance, saying hi and then going off on his way. It felt like I was the only one who felt that the whole situation was weird.

“I’m sure something is wrong with him,” Jihyun decided. “I mean, look at him! He’s handsome and educated and seems like the perfect gentleman. There’s no reason for a man like that to be single if he’s normal.”

“Jihyun, just drop it,” I sighed. “Whatever’s up with him, I don’t need to know, alright? I said I wasn’t interested in dating, and I really don’t need all this drama. Whatever happened, happened, and I’m just going to move on.”

I glanced across the café at Jinyoung’s side profile. It was a pity he was so confusing, because for a while, I’d genuinely enjoyed his company. That night at the gallery, I’d really felt like he understood me. Shaking my head, I turned away. It didn’t matter how perfect he was. If he was going to be such an indecisive wuss, he didn’t deserve my time or energy.

---

“Class, shall we say a big thank you to Ryeowon-ssaem for the lesson today?”

“THANK YOU, RYEOWON-SSAEM!”

“Thank you for being such great students!” I said, bowing to the class of eight-year-olds. “I hope you enjoyed your time today.”

As the bunch of excited elementary schoolers started packing their bags and running out of the classroom, I turned to their teacher, Ms. Park, deflating. “I don’t know how you do this every single day. It’s exhausting!”

“It’s tough, but it has its perks,” Ms. Park said with a laugh. “Thank you so much for offering to do this. The kids really loved you.”

“Or, they loved having time off from lessons to just mess around with paint,” I replied, embarrassed. To be honest, I just volunteered because my agent thought it would be great for publicity, and he’d spent the most part of the day snapping photos to post on my profile page. I definitely had fun hanging out with the kids all day, but I wasn’t altruistic by any means.

“Perhaps,” Ms. Park joked. “Either ways, thank you so much. Come, I’ll see you out.”

I followed her lead out of the classroom and down the hallway, to the entrance of the school. With her, the small talk wasn’t so bad. She asked about my latest project, and I told her it wasn’t quite coming together yet, but there were a few pieces I’d created here and there. She suggested that I come back because I could gain inspiration from the kids, and I politely agreed, but thankfully, before she could hold me to it, she paused in front of one of the students, who was sitting alone in front of the driveway.

“Jeha, you’re still here?”

The boy jumped up to bow to us. “My appa says he’ll be a little late.” He smiled at me, his large round eyes twinkling. “I really enjoyed your class today, Ryeowon-ssaem. Will you be coming back again?”

“Maybe sometime in the future,” I said vaguely.

“Jeha wants to be an artist when he grows up,” Ms. Park told me, beaming proudly.

“Do you?” I asked, suddenly feeling endeared to him. “Maybe the next time I display my work, I’ll invite you.” Although, I didn’t even enjoy my own showcases and there was probably too much alcohol around.

The boy looked absolutely delighted. “Do you have your own studio where you get to just spend all your time painting?”

“Oh, Jeha, looks like your appa’s here.”

Before I could answer, a black sedan pulled up to the driveway. Even before he stepped out of the car, I caught a glimpse of the driver and I felt my stomach drop to the floor. I looked at Jeha again, and came to the shocking realization that there was indeed an uncanny resemblance I hadn’t noticed before.

Park Jinyoung was his father.

He had a son. Jinyoung had a son.

The shock and confusion I felt must have been obvious, because Jinyoung looked clearly uncomfortable as he approached us. He avoided my eyes as he greeted Ms. Park first, and took Jeha’s backpack. Then, his eyes slowly meet mine and he bowed his head meekly.

“Oh, you know each other?” Ms. Park asked obliviously.

“I’m a regular at his friend’s café,” I said as means of explanation, not even looking at her. This whole time, I was just staring at Jinyoung, confused. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the fact that he was this kid’s father. The boy was eight. Wasn’t Jinyoung a little too young to be his father? Was this why he was being all weird? Was Jihyun right? Was he married?

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice small.

“Ryeowon-ssaem came to teach us art,” Jeha piped up. “We used watercolors today.”

“Oh, did you?” Jinyoung cooed at his son. His eyes flickered up to me for a moment. “Did you have fun?”

“Yes!” Jeha declared. “Can we go and see her work next time? Ryeowon-ssaem has a studio!”

“Yeah, sure,” he said patronizingly. He looked back at me again. “Um, do you need a lift?”

“No, thank you,” I said calmly and coldly. He wasn’t the only one who could behave like a stranger. “I’m calling a cab. Have a good day.” I waved at Jeha, smiling. “Bye, Jeha!”

---

“Can I sit?”

I lifted my eyes from my sketchbook briefly. “Sure, Jeha’s appa.”

Jinyoung sat, his brows knitted in consternation. “Why are you calling me that?”

“Isn’t it true?” I asked.

“Are you mad?”

I sighed, setting my book aside. “That you have a son? No. That you failed to mention it before you kissed me and then acted like nothing happened? Yes, a little.”

Jinyoung sucked in a deep breath, looking defeated. “What was I supposed to do? Open a conversation with ‘by the way, I’m a father of an eight-year-old’?”

“It’s not something to hide or be ashamed of,” I said blankly. “Is it?”

“God, no,” Jinyoung answered quickly. “I couldn’t be prouder of Jeha. It’s just… something that scares people away.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why would it? You said we were just friends. Until you ambushed me, at least.”

The corner of Jinyoung’s lips twitched. “You were equal parts to blame, Ryeowon. You kissed me back just as eagerly.”

“You confused me,” I said defensively. “In fact, you’re still confusing me right now.”

“I think I confuse myself too,” Jinyoung admitted. “I just… I know I said I didn’t want to date, but I think I’m just scared of being rejected. I mean, it’s not something easy for women to accept, and I think… I wanted you to like me.”

“I do,” I said, before correcting myself. “I mean, I did. I… I don’t know, right now.”

“I do,” Jinyoung said firmly. “I really do like you. I’m sorry I handled things really badly, and I understand if you think I’m a jerk. It’s just the first time I’ve been interested in someone since, you know… Jeha’s mom.”

“The call you got the other night?” I asked.

“Babysitter,” Jinyoung clarified. “The ahjumma next door takes care of Jeha when I’m out, and I was supposed to pick him up earlier, before I got um… distracted. Jeha’s mom isn’t around anymore.”

“Can I ask… what happened?” I asked tentatively. “You don’t have to tell me if it makes you uncomfortable. I’m just… curious.”

Jinyoung looked down at the table, playing with his fingers absently. “She died in an accident. Four years ago.” He forced a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “It took a while to come to terms with it. In fact, I just managed to stop wearing my ring this year. It got tiring to hear people asking where Jeha’s mom was.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said, forgetting momentarily that I was supposed to be mad at him. “It must be tough, raising a kid alone.”

Jinyoung shrugged. “I guess. But he’s mine, you know? I’m prepared to take care of him on my own. I don’t want to be one of those single dads who’s looking for a mother for my child. Although, I suppose…” He gazed tentatively at me. “We come in a package, and whoever I date has to be able to live with that.”

“I see.” He was still looking expectantly at me, but I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. It had come as a shock to me that he was a father, but who was I to judge? It wasn’t like I had to decide right now whether I was going to marry him and take care of his kid forever.

“I don’t know where this is eventually going to lead to,” Jinyoung said carefully, his expression sincere. “I can’t promise anything and I don’t know whether things will work out in the end. All I know is that I don’t really want to stay away from you. I want to see you, and get to know you better. And I’m really hoping you feel the same way too.”

I thought about the night at the gallery. It had felt so natural, so comfortable to hang out with him, and it was the first time in ages that I’d laughed so much. I wasn’t the type to get close to others easily, so this connection meant something to me. On top of that, he was also handsome and charming and smart. There was just something magnetic about him that I couldn’t say no to. I sighed. “And if I say that I do? Then what?”

“Then we start over and see where this leads us,” Jinyoung said, breaking out into a big smile, dimples and all. “Give me a chance to make things right. Let me take you out on a date.”

---

Two days later, we went on our first date.

It wasn’t anything special. We took a walk along the Han River, and ate at a cute little noodle place that he swore had the best dumplings in the world. On our second date, we went to a museum. On our third date, we went to a movie and in the darkness of the theatre, he held my hand for the first time.

Compared to the short-lived whirlwind romances I usually found myself in, Jinyoung and I were really taking things slow. He was the perfect gentleman. He planned our dates in advance, brought me little things to surprise me (cookies, a book he liked, a flower he plucked from a bush we passed) and was extremely considerate. He was always apologetic about the fact that our dates were short, because he had to juggle work and taking care of his son, but none of that mattered to me. Despite the slow pace, within a few weeks, I was falling harder and faster than I ever had before.

It was exhilarating, but in equal parts terrifying.

“Are you absolutely sure about this?” Jihyun questioned, her expression betraying her skepticism. “I mean, he’s a widower, and he’s over thirty, and he’s got a son! A son! Surely there are better men you can date.”

I narrowed my eyes at her, stirring my coffee. “You were the one trying to push me to him. What happened to him being smart and handsome and having a job?”

“That was before I knew that he had a full-grown child!” Jihyun pointed out, her eyes automatically shifting towards the corner that Jinyoung usually sat in. He wasn’t here today, but even she’d come to do that by habit. “Have you considered that? Are you ready to thrust into motherhood?”

“I’m not going to be Jeha’s mother,” I said, glancing at Jaebum to make sure he was still behind the counter, lest he heard Jihyun talking shit about his friend. “I’m just going to be this really cool aunt that his father happens to be dating. Jinyoung doesn’t expect me to take care of his kid for him.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Jihyun said, her tone snarky. “I’m sure he’s going to lead two separate lives, one with you and one with his son. That’s totally going to work out.”

I folded my arms, exasperated. “Then what, Jihyun? Am I supposed to just dump him because he has a son? He’s the first person I’ve ever dated that really understands me. All those other guys I’ve been with, they just liked the idea of me: that I was someone who went against the grain and was a rebel, or at the very least, looked like I would be up for anything in bed. Not Jinyoung. When he looks at me, I feel like he actually sees me.”

Jihyun softened. “It sounds like he’s really special to you.”

“He is,” I answered in a small voice. “I really like him. I’m happy, when I’m with him.”

“And I’m happy for you,” Jihyun said. “I��m just worried about how things are going to pan out. It’s not going to be easy, you know?”

I chewed on my lip. “I know that. But… it’s worth a shot, right? I mean, I’m really just enjoying the ride right now. I know things might get tough, but we’ll cross that bridge when it comes… right?”

“Oh, honey,” Jihyun sighed. “I really hope you guys know what you’re doing.”

---

“I want you to meet Jeha,” Jinyoung said one day, without any warning.

I looked up at him, surprised. It was a random afternoon, and we were snuggled up in my living room, both of us reading our books. It was becoming more common, us being alone together. We were both so used to being alone that we had our little habits and our pockets of me-time, but we were also in that fuzzy honeymoon phase of our relationship in which we wanted to spend all our time together. Hence, this was the result: quiet afternoon dates with each other for company while we did our work or just read.

“I’ve met him,” I said, quietly averting my eyes, even though I knew what he meant.

“I mean officially,” Jinyoung said, putting down his book. “I want him to know that we’re dating. That you’re my girlfriend.”

I continued staring at my book, even though none of the words were making sense anymore. “Would an eight-year-old even know what that means?”

“Honestly, I don’t know,” Jinyoung admitted. “But I want him to know anyway. He’s going to see you around a lot, and I want him to know why. You both mean a lot to me, and I don’t want it to seem as if I’m hiding you from him.” I said nothing, but he seemed to sense my apprehension. He pulled me closer, kissing the top of my head. “What’s wrong?”

I twisted so I could look up at him. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

Jinyoung smiled. “What do you mean? You’re already his idol.”

“Yeah, but that’s before I was his dad’s new girlfriend,” I pointed out. “Us being together changes things.”

“It does,” Jinyoung agreed. “But that’s not necessarily a bad thing, is it?”

“How do you know?” I complained. “He could hate the idea of his dad being with someone. He could think I’m trying to steal you.”

Jinyoung wrapped his arms around me tightly. “I wish I could give you a definite answer, but I really don’t know how he’s going to react. This is the first time I’ve tried to date after his mother passed.” It was a horrifyingly unsatisfactory answer. I tried to squirm out of his grip, but he wouldn’t let go. “But he’s a good kid. He’s independent, and mature; he knows I’m having a hard time, and so he takes care of himself well. I’m sure that he’ll want me to be happy.”

I gave up my feeble struggle. “Are you? Happy?”

“I am.” He relaxed his grip, putting enough space between us so that he could drop a light kiss on the tip of my nose. “I haven’t been this happy in a long time. Every day, I wake up feeling so lucky that I found you.”

“You’re just saying that,” I accused, although I couldn’t help but blush.

“I’m not,” Jinyoung refuted, chuckling. “You make me so happy, my heart feels like it might burst.”

I leaned up to give him a kiss on the lips before snuggling into his embrace. That, I could relate to. Jinyoung was warmth itself. Being in his arms made me feel so comfortable that it was almost frightening. I was so ridiculously, sickeningly happy that I was sure that life was going to punch me in my face at any moment and tell me that it was one big practical joke.

“It would make me happier if I could spend time with both my favorite people,” Jinyoung said, oblivious to the way my heart was pounding in my ears. “What do you say?”

---

“Wow, this is awesome!”

I watched as Jeha ran around my studio, touching brushes and palettes. He stopped to marvel at a row of paint tubes. “Appa, did you even know they made paints in so many colors?”

Jinyoung was beaming as he looked at me. “Wow, I had no idea.”

“This is so cool!” Jeha gushed, pausing in front of one of my newer paintings. “You’re a really good artist, Ryeowon-ssaem.”

“Try not to touch anything,” Jinyoung warned, and seeing this fatherly side of him caused my stomach to flip-flop. For a few hours a week, I got him all to myself, but this was a reminder that he came with a plus-one, and I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that.

“Thanks, Jeha,” I said brightly, pushing aside the unease. “You want to create something with me?”

The way Jeha’s eyes lit up made me smile. He was a really cute kid, and I could really see some of Jinyoung’s mannerisms in him. “No way. Can I really?”

“Of course,” I said. I loaded a blank canvas onto an easel and pulled up a chair for him so he could reach it easier. Then, I brought him some pencils. “You want to start by drawing something?”

I had to admit, hanging out with Jeha was pretty fun. He was a smart kid, eloquent beyond his age, and also pretty talented at art for an eight-year-old. He drew some robots from a cartoon he liked, and we had fun mixing colors with acrylic paint and painting them. I taught him how to play with shades and gradients, and he learnt quickly. Jinyoung just hung back, watching us, occasionally offering suggestions and taking pictures. Then, he left us alone to order lunch. By the time Jeha and I sat back to admire our finished masterpiece, take-out had arrived. All three of us sat down on the floor with our bowls of jjajjangmyun.

“So, Jeha, did you have fun today?” Jinyoung asked, leaning over to wipe a smudge of paint off his son’s face.

Jeha nodded eagerly. “It was the best. When I grow up, I want to have a studio just like this.”

“You can come over again,” I offered. “We can try playing with other things next time.”

Jeha looked at Jinyoung with wide eyes. “Can we?”

Jinyoung’s eyes found mine as he nodded. He held my gaze for a while, and I knew he was going to do it right then. “Of course. You’re going to see Ryeowon-ssaem a lot more often from now on. As long as she’s free and doesn’t mind, you can come hang out with her.”

Jeha must have picked up from his father’s tone that this conversation was taking a serious turn, because he looked slightly confused. “I am?”

Jinyoung nodded, looking at his son. “Jeha, you like Ryeowon-ssaem, right?”

Jeha nodded slowly. “Yes, I do.”

“Well, you see,” Jinyoung licked his lips. He reached out and grasped my hand in his. “Appa likes her a lot too.”

My heart was pounding so loudly I could barely hear what he was saying. I couldn’t believe that I was so desperate for the approval of an eight-year-old boy, but I was. I could only stare at his face, hoping to catch a glimpse of what he was feeling. To his credit, the boy had an amazing poker face. It was clear that he was no longer smiling like before, but his expression was blank, betraying no emotion, neither positive nor negative.

“I like her so much I asked her to be my girlfriend,” Jinyoung was explaining to Jeha. “I want to spend time with her, and I want her to be a part of my life, which means she’ll be a part of your life too.”

“Does this mean you’re going to get married?” Jeha asked.

“No,” I quickly blurted out.

Jinyoung glanced at me, furrowing his brows disapprovingly. “We don’t know,” he said gently. “Adults usually date for some time before they decide whether or not to get married, and Ryeowon-ssaem and I have only been seeing each other for a couple of months. It’s too early to say.”

“Okay.”

Seriously, the kid was way more mature than an eight-year-old was supposed to be. He seemed to be taking it in his stride, quietly processing what he’d just been told. I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath until he turned and spared me a glance. When he did, though, my stomach sank.

He didn’t like it.

His expression was still blank, and he wasn’t outwardly expressing any emotion, and I know I sound crazy, but I could just tell that his eyes had hardened. Earlier, he’d been looking at me with unbridled joy and awe, but now, his beautiful round eyes conveyed what I could only interpret as something closer to hatred.

We looked at each other for a long moment, and I felt like I should say something, but my mind was blank. He was the first to break the silence with his sweet, innocent voice.

“Can I use the washroom?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “Sure. It’s that way.”

“Thank you.”

We were silent again as Jeha excused himself. When he was out of earshot, I turned to Jinyoung, who was looking at me expectantly. “That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

My hands shook as I started clearing our empty bowls. “Jinyoung… he doesn’t like me.”

“What? No,” Jinyoung disagreed, taking the bowls from my hands. “Where did you get that?”

I looked at him, hoping for some assurance that I wasn’t crazy. “Didn’t you see him? He was all happy and smiling, and when you told him, his mood just changed.”

“He just wasn’t expecting it,” Jinyoung assured me with a smile. “That’s just the way he processes information. He’ll need some time to mull over it, and then decide how he feels. If he were unhappy, he’d have shown it right away.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “Why does that sound so much like someone else I know?”

“He’s just like me,” Jinyoung said with a grin. He leaned over to steal a kiss. “And if I like you so much, how can he possibly dislike you?”

That helped me feel better a little bit. We cleaned up together, and when Jeha returned, it was time for them to go. I saw them to the door, and Jeha bowed politely to me. “Thank you for today, Ryeowon-ssaem. I had a lot of fun.”

I could tell it wasn’t with the same amount of enthusiasm as he’d had earlier, but I forced myself to push my worries out of my mind. “I had fun too, Jeha. When our painting dries fully, I’ll have your appa bring it home for you. Or, you can come and get it yourself next time.”

The boy said nothing and bowed again before trudging away. Jinyoung pulled me in for a quick kiss before rushing after him. “I’ll call you later.”

I nodded, and closed the door after them. I let out a huge sigh as I dragged myself back to my workspace. Whatever the outcome of that meeting was, I was just glad it was over. I took another look at the painting that Jeha and I had created together, and I gasped.

Across the front of the painting was a big, messy splotch of purple paint.

---

“I don’t know why you’re afraid of an eight-year-old.”

“He hates me!” I whined, looking nervously at the gate of the school. I looked around me at the handful of parents that were standing around, waiting for their kids to come outside. “What if he doesn’t want to come with me and the parents here think I’m some kind of kidnapper?”

Jihyun sighed loudly over the phone. “Honey, he’s eight. If he doesn’t go with you, where will he go? It’s not like he can call a cab.”

“He could scream, or run, or I don’t know, ask another adult to call the police?” I hissed at her.

“Look, he’s not going to do that,” Jihyun stated calmly. “Jinyoung told him that you’re coming to pick him up today, right? If he weren’t okay with that, he’d have thrown a tantrum already, and Jinyoung would have had no choice but to ask someone else for the favor.”

“Jinyoung doesn’t believe that his son hates me,” I pointed out. “And the kid is pretty crafty. He acts like he’s fine in front of his dad, but… did I tell you about the painting?”

“Yes, you did, like three times,” Jihyun said blankly. “And what did Jinyoung say about that?”

“He said that Jeha probably did it by accident and was afraid to tell us because he didn’t want to get into trouble,” I answered, running a hand through my hair. “But the painting was upright, Jihyun. A spill would have been an accident. It looked like someone had flung a tin of paint at it. There’s no way that wasn’t deliberate.”

“Well, he’s eight,” Jihyun reminded me. “If he really did that, then you give him a good scolding when you see him and make sure he doesn’t vandalize anything again in future. If you’re going to be his stepmother, you should be able to discipline him.”

I scowled at my phone. “Really not helpful, Jihyun.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Jihyun complained. “I want to tell you that you’re crazy for thinking you’re at war with a kid, but you’re clearly not listening to me. None of this is rational. I don’t know how I can possibly help.”

I sighed. “You’re right. I’m over-thinking this. He’s eight. How hard can it be to win him over?”

“That’s the spirit,” Jihyun cheered. “Alright, my break’s over. Let me know how it went tonight!”

I hung up, steeling myself with another deep breath. Some of the kids were already starting to spill out of the school gates, and I kept my eyes on the entry way in case I missed Jeha. I only had to wait a few more minutes before the boy appeared, his eyes scanning the row of adults. When his gaze landed on me, his face visibly fell. This time, his dad wasn’t around, so there was no need to hide his disdain. He dragged his feet as he came up to me, bowing half-heartedly.

I forced a bright smile onto my face, determined not to let him get me down. “Hi, Jeha. Your appa had an important meeting and ahjumma is sick, so it’s just you and me today. What shall we do?”

Jeha looked up at me. “Can’t we just go home?”

“Your father said you need to get lunch first,” I pointed out. Technically, I could also bring him home and cook for him, but my cooking skills were abysmal and it was too early in our relationship for either father or son to find out. “What do you want to eat?”

He shrugged. “Anything.”

I forced myself to hold in the sigh that was forming. How was I supposed to know what he liked? I thought about it for a second. “How about fast food?” Kids loved fast food, right? How could I go wrong with fast food?

Jeha just shrugged again. “Okay.”

There was a fast food restaurant nearby, so we walked there together. We had to take a short walk, and there was a short queue, so the silence wasn’t that painful. It was when we had sat down with our burgers in front of us that I really started to feel the awkwardness.

“So…” I said, trying to break the tension. “How was school?”

“It was okay.”

He didn’t even look up at me when he said that. He wasn’t rude by any means. His tone was polite, and he used honorifics, but it was obvious that he had no desire to continue the conversation.

“Oookay,” I exhaled. “Learnt anything new?”

“Multiplication. Grammar. We also learnt about the life cycle of a fly.”

I perked up. “That’s interesting.” It wasn’t, but I was grasping at straws. “Tell me about that.”

“I don’t want you to marry my appa.”

I nearly choked on my burger. He was finally giving me something, but it was the last thing that I’d expected to come out of his mouth. “W-h… What?”

“Don’t marry him,” Jeha repeated. “We’re supposed to be a family. Me, him and umma. Not you.”

Wow, this kid really had a way with words. “I’m not marrying your appa, Jeha,” I said gently. “We’re just hanging out. Like friends, but closer. Like partners. We can support each other, and…”

“We don’t need you,” Jeha insisted. “We’re fine on our own.”

I swallowed, trying not to show him that his words were affecting me. “Jeha, your appa has been alone for a while, and he can get lonely. I know he has you, but he can also have a companion, an adult, beside him. Not to replace your umma, but—”

The moment the words were out of my mouth, I knew I had said something wrong. That was the trigger, the mention of his mother. Before I could stop it, something in the kid snapped.

“I don’t want you to be my umma!” he hollered at the top of his lungs. His hand lashed out, and he knocked his drink over, causing the liquid to spill all over the table and onto the floor.

I panicked, grabbing at napkins to try to mop up the mess. His face was red now, and he was sniffling, but there was nothing I could do. I felt like bursting into tears myself. The other patrons of the restaurant were staring at us now, and I could only imagine what they were thinking. “Stay here,” I whispered to Jeha, before rushing to the counter to get more napkins. One of the staff members eventually came over with a mop, and I could only bow my head, apologizing repeatedly. It was hands down the most embarrassing moment of my entire life, but that feeling was trumped by the feeling of dread that had settled itself deeply in the pits of my stomach. I could no longer look at Jeha in the eye. I wrapped up his abandoned burger (in case he got hungry later), shoved some napkins and him, and herded him out of the restaurant. One silent cab ride later, we reached Jinyoung’s apartment. The moment I got the front door open, he disappeared into his room and slammed the door shut behind him.

When I was sure that he wasn’t coming out, I sat down in the living room and let myself cry.

Jinyoung came home barely an hour later. I was still in the same spot, and he just had to take one look at me to know that something was up. He tried to put his arms around me. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

I pushed him away. Now that he was back, I could finally get the hell out of this place. “I can’t, Jinyoung. I can’t.”

I bolted from his apartment, leaving him sitting there and wondering what on earth had happened.

---

Jinyoung called that night.

I was lying in bed, hoping that my sheets would just swallow me whole so I didn’t have to go out and face the world again, when my phone rang. I considered not answering it, because I didn’t want to deal with anything that he had to say, but I saw the contact photo on my phone screen and my heart softened.

I missed him. I felt like complete and utter crap, and he was the only person in the world who could make me feel better. Even if he’d indirectly caused the pain in the first place.

I answered.

“Hey.”

His voice was heavy, and I just knew in my heart that he wasn’t going to be able to give me the comfort I needed.

“You there?” he asked when I didn’t respond.

“Mm.”

On the other end, he was silent too. Then, he let out a low sigh. “I spoke to Jeha.”

“I see.”

“I’m really sorry. No matter what he was feeling, that’s no way for him to behave. I’m punishing him by reducing his computer time, and he’s going to write you an apology letter.”

“It’s alright, he doesn’t need to.”

“He does,” Jinyoung insisted. “I don’t punish him nearly enough and he’s a brat. I’m sorry.”

An uncomfortable silence fell. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say. I kind of wanted to ask him what this meant for the both of us, but I was too afraid to because I had a feeling I knew what his answer would be. I didn’t have to ask anyway, because Jinyoung knew what was on my mind.

He always did. He got me in a way that no one else ever did.

“Ryeowon,” he said quietly, and I knew what was coming. I felt the heaviness in his voice in a place deep within me. I knew, and I understood. “I really, really like you. These past couple of months, I’ve been really happy. You helped me open up my heart in a way I never thought was possible after I lost my wife.”

“I know,” I said, biting my bottom lip to keep my voice steady. The tears were already threatening to fall, but I didn’t want him to hear that. “You’ve made me really happy too.”

“If things were different…” his voice cracked, and I could tell that this conversation was as hard for him as it was for me. “I mean, I just… I’m so sorry I started this when I knew there was a chance I could hurt you. It’s just… Jeha is my first priority, and he always will be.”

“I know,” I assured him. “You don’t have to apologize for that.”

“I’m sorry anyway,” Jinyoung replied softly. “You deserve so much more than I can give you.”

I wished he wouldn’t say that, because it wasn’t true. The relationship I’d had with him, however short-lived, was possibly the best I’d ever had. It was my first real relationship, one that was based on trust and mutual support, and was unlike any of my previous toxic, unhealthy ones. With Jinyoung, I felt like I could finally believe that soulmates actually existed. But of course, like everything else in my life, it was too good to be true. I had found the perfect man for me, but I couldn’t have him because someone else had found him first.

Story of my life.

“I think it’s for the best if we just… end things here.”

That opened the floodgates. I knew they were coming, but nevertheless, hearing those words hurt so much that for a moment, I was paralyzed. I pursed my lips, trying to hold it in so he couldn’t hear me breaking down. I tried to take in deep breaths through my nose.

“Ryeowon… you still there?”

“Yes,” I managed to choke out. “I… yeah. I understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

We both fell silent again. What was there left to say? None of my previous relationships had ended like this, so I had no idea how to end this conversation. I couldn’t very well scream at him like how I did with all my exes and ask him to go to hell, since he hadn’t done anything wrong. This was the most mature, adult break-up I’d ever had, and I was out of my element. It felt contrived to thank him for the memories, and I couldn’t offer to remain friends because I knew I could never be friends with him. I’d fallen too deeply in love with him for us to turn back.

Wow. Love. It was the first time I’d thought of it that way. What perfect timing to realize that I was in love with someone, right after he’d broken up with me.

Again, story of my life.

“I guess… I’ll see you around at the café?” he said first, after a long pause.

“Yeah. Bye, Jinyoung.”

Have a nice life.

“Bye, Ryeowon.”

---

“You need to get the fuck out of this place.”

I squinted against the bright light as Jihyun yanked the blinds open. Next, she went for the blanket that I had over me, leaving me exposed on the couch that I had in my studio.

“When was the last time you had a proper meal?” she demanded, wrinkling her nose in disdain at the empty ramyun cups that littered the table. “Or a shower?”

“Leave me alone,” I grumbled, trying to bury my head under a cushion.

Jihyun yanked that away from me too. “Yeah, that’s the problem. I’ve left you alone for way too long. Get your ass off that couch right now.”

The tone of her voice told me that she meant business. Jihyun was a straight talker, but she rarely got angry at me. Right now, she was definitely angry and ready to fight me. I could tell. Which was why I reluctantly dragged my heavy body into an upright position. “Happy?”

“Far from it,” she snapped. “What the fuck is this? You haven’t been answering my calls, you stopped going to the café… Are you trying to kill yourself? Over a failed relationship?”

“I’ve been working,” I refuted, standing and walking over to my workspace, where almost a dozen completed paintings were lined up neatly. “Apparently failed relationships are really good sources of inspiration.”

Jihyun sighed loudly as she scanned the pieces. “What the hell, Ryeowon? Have you run out of colors?”

I hadn’t planned for it to turn out this way, but now, looking at my paintings, I realized she was right. The entire collection of them had been completed using only black, white, and varying shades of gray. “It… It’s an artistic choice.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Jihyun stated, rounding on me. “Babe, this isn’t healthy. It’s been weeks since the break-up. You can’t just hide in here surrounded by all these dark thoughts and dark paintings. How are you going to move on if you don’t start living your life normally again?”

“I’m living normally,” I insisted defensively. “I’ve been working.”

“You haven’t stepped into your usual café since the break-up. I asked Jaebum.”

That was a valid point, but there was a good reason for that. Jinyoung had said he’d see me around at the café, and I didn’t want to actually see him until I was ready so… I just haven’t gone.

“I can make coffee here,” I said, folding my arms.

“I bought you that coffee machine three years ago when you rented this space, and you never touched it,” Jihyun pointed out. “Come on, you need to get out. Meet people. Talk to people.”

“You know I hate that.”

“Communication is a fundamental human need, Ryeowon,” Jihyun said. “You need to do it so you don’t go crazy.” She sighed again as she faced me. “I know it’s hard, but you have to get over him.”

“I’m over him,” I said in a small voice, but because she was my closest friend in the world, she didn’t believe me.

“I know he was special,” she said, her voice softening. “But you can’t romanticize the idea of him and trap yourself in this spiral. At the end of the day, he’s just another guy who wasn’t meant to be. He’s a stop on your journey, and you need to get back up and keep moving on. You’ll find someone better. Someone with less baggage.”

I still couldn’t bear the mention of Jinyoung, so I nodded, even though I didn’t fully agree with her. “I know. I’m trying.”

“Good,” she said, with a small smile. “So no more moping. Let’s go out to dinner tonight. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I said, holding my arms open for a hug. I was lucky I had Jihyun in my life. Even if all the relationships in my life didn’t work out, I still had my best friend. Sometimes, I just needed a reminder of that.

She wrinkled her nose and stepped away from me. “After you take a shower, stinky.”

---

“Hi, are you Ryeowon?”

I looked up in curiosity at the man who was standing in front of me. “Um… yes?”

“Hi, my name is Bam Bam. I’m a friend of Jihyun’s.”

I stared at the lanky stranger as he pulled out the chair in front of me and sat down. Why was he sitting down? I was supposed to be meeting Jihyun for dinner at this restaurant, and she hadn’t told me she was bringing a friend. I’d asked for a table for two, so if her friend was here… It took me a moment before realization dawned on me.

Damn Jihyun. She’d set me up on a blind date.

The hypothesis was further confirmed when Bam Bam held out an ostentatious bouquet of roses. “Here, I brought these for you.”

“Uh, thanks.”

I was immensely annoyed at her. Why did she do these things to me? And why did she think I would be interested in this guy? Sure, he was handsome and built like a model, but his style was way too flashy. He had on a blazer with sequined details, and his ears were adorned with dangling silver earrings. His shirt was unbuttoned way too low, and I think he was wearing more make-up than I was. Not to mention, his hair was platinum blond and he was wearing shades even though it was night time. Where did she even meet this guy? On the runway at Seoul Fashion Week?

“You’re prettier in person than in the photo Jihyun showed me,” Bam Bam said with a charming smile, taking off his glasses and setting them down on the table.

My irritation only spiked. She showed him a photo of me? Which one?!

“Thanks… I guess?” I said through gritted teeth. “Pardon my surprise. I had no idea I was being set up on a blind date.”

Bam Bam was unfazed by that. “Oh, yeah, Jihyun did mention you might be a bit… resistant. But it’s all good. We can just have dinner as two friends who just met. No pressure.”

“Right.” He was right. I could have dinner with him. And then kill Jihyun later.

Dinner with Bam Bam wasn’t all bad. He was an entertaining character, and I could see that he’d be a fun friend to have around if I was in a group. One on one, he was just a little… much. He talked a lot about himself, and laughed a little too loudly at his own jokes. Long story short, I could tell why he was single and needed his friends to set him up on blind dates. In the history of blind dates, it wasn’t the worst date. It just wasn’t one of the good ones.

My eyes were wandering while Bam Bam launched into another anecdote about one of his restaurants (he was a restaurateur, not a model) when they landed on something that made my heart stop. Walking through the door, looking as breathtakingly handsome as the last time I’d seen him, was Jinyoung.

I cursed my luck that there were only like, two good restaurants in this neighborhood. Why else would I run into him here, of all places, when I’d been trying so hard to avoid him this whole time? And I also cursed Jihyun because if she’d just let me stay cocooned in my studio, this wouldn’t have happened. Especially not while I was on this blind date that she’d tricked me into.

It took a while for him to spot me. He looked like he’d just popped in to get some takeout, and he stayed at the counter, ordering and paying. Then, as the service staff left to prepare his order, he scanned the restaurant and caught sight of me. I felt like I should have pretended not to see him, or at the very least, made some attempt to hide that ridiculous bouquet on my table that just screamed that I was on a date, but I couldn’t help freezing when our eyes locked across the room. He was in a long coat and had a cap on, but I could still see that he’d lost a bit of weight. There was a hint of a five o’clock shadow on his face. I thought I saw a flash of betrayal in his eyes, and for a moment, I felt guilty.

“Hello, Ryeowon? What are you looking at?”

Bam Bam’s voice pulled me back to the conversation at hand, and I turned to face him once more. “Nothing. Just thought I saw someone I know, but I must be mistaken.”

“Happens to me all the time,” Bam Bam chortled. “As I was saying, this is Latte, and this is Pudding…”

I feigned interest as Bam Bam leaned over to show me pictures of his cats on his phone. When I finally got a moment to glance back over at the counter, Jinyoung was gone. There was an empty feeling in my heart, but at least it didn’t hurt anymore. Time seemed to have dulled the pain from our break-up. I looked at Bam Bam again and told myself I didn’t have to feel guilty. Sure, it was a little soon, but we were broken up, and I had every right to date someone new. I had no interest in the man right in front of me, but I could date him if I wanted to. I had done nothing wrong.

That was what I told myself.

But at the end of the night, after I had said goodbye to Bam Bam with empty promises of meeting up again and returned to the cold silence of my room, I still cried myself to sleep.

---

More time passed, and I was, slowly but surely, healing.

I was still avoiding Jus Coffee, but I’d found another place to get my caffeine fix. Just one block down, a small coffee place had opened up. It wasn’t a café, just a small takeaway window, and I passed by it every day on my way from home to studio. It was so hipster that it didn’t even have a name, and I knew it by the number 2 that hung above the window, signifying the unit number of the store. It was run by a friendly barista, Yugyeom, and I hit my daily communication quota by chatting with him while he made my coffee.

Colors were finding their way back into my paintings too. Okay, maybe just some blues and purples to add dimension to my black and white paintings, but it was a start. The whole collection was starting to come together too. I had channeled all my heartbreak onto the canvas, and there was something incredibly therapeutic about watching the artwork take shape. My agent would be happy with this series too. This time, there would be a real lost-love story he could tell potential buyers.

It also no longer felt as if my heart was being ripped in two when I thought about Jinyoung during long nights. Every night, it hurt less and less. I was on the road to making a full recovery.

That all came to a head one day, when I was making my daily coffee run.

“Hey, Yugyeom, I’m here for my daily long black!” I called, popping my head into the window. My smile quickly died when I saw that Yugyeom wasn’t alone. There was someone else very unexpected standing beside him behind the counter. “Oh. Hey, Jaebum.” For some weird reason, I felt like I was cheating on him. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other.”

“He was my senior in high school,” Yugyeom said cheerfully. “Let me get you your coffee.”

“Thanks,” I said awkwardly. If he went to the same high school as Jaebum, that meant that he probably also knew Jinyoung.

“Didn’t expect this twerp to open up a shop right down the block from me and steal my customers,” Jaebum commented with a laugh. “Is his coffee really better than mine?”

“I, uh… I’ve been busy,” I said, feeling weird that I had to make up excuses to explain why I was buying coffee from another joint. “This place is a bit more convenient.”

Jaebum laughed. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I was just kidding.”

I laughed awkwardly. “What are you doing here, instead of at your own café?”

“Actually, I was looking for you,” Jaebum said. “I didn’t have a way to reach you, and by chance, Yugyeom and I were talking and he mentioned your name. Since your name is pretty unique, I thought there was a high chance that it might actually be you.”

I was confused. “You’re looking for me? Why?”

“Ah, it’s not for myself,” Jaebum clarified. “I’m doing someone else a favor.” He craned his neck to look out of the window. “Where’s that fella? The convenience store isn’t that far from here… There he is. That’s the person who wants to meet you.”

I turned in the direction he was pointing, and my stomach sank like a brick.

“Hello, Ryeowon-ssaem.” The boy held out one of the ice-cream cones he was holding in his hands. “This is for you.”

I was confused as hell. I looked back at Jaebum for help, but he just raised his eyebrows at me. Realizing that I was leaving the kid hanging, I took the outstretched offering. “Um, thanks.”

Behind me, Jaebum held out his hand too. “My change?”

Jeha scurried past me to drop some change in Jaebum’s hand.

“Thank you,” Jaebum said with a smile. “Now, didn’t you say you had something you wanted to say to Ryeowon-ssaem?”

Jeha nodded. “Yes. Ryeowon-ssaem, can I talk to you?”

The whole situation was just so baffling. Given the way our last conversation had ended, Jeha was the last person that I expected to be reaching out first. Yet, here he was, looking somewhat morose as he peered at me from under his long lashes. I had to admit, I was actually a little scared, but I couldn’t say no. And that was how we found ourselves sitting side by side on the curb in front of Yugyeom’s store.

“I need to tell you that I’m sorry,” Jeha said quickly, without beating around the bush. He sounded nervous and his words sounded as if he’d rehearsed them. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you and said hurtful things to you. You were being nice to me, and I was rude and ungrateful. I’m very sorry.”

I smiled awkwardly. “It’s okay, I forgive you. Your appa said you were punished and you had to write a letter. You don’t actually have to meet me face to face to apologize.”

“I know, but I wanted to,” Jeha responded, reminding me again how mature he was for an eight-year-old. “Other than saying I’m sorry, I also wanted to ask you for a favor.”

That caused a feeling of unease. “You do? What is it?”

“Please be with my appa again.”

I could only stare at him in bewilderment, surprised at his proclamation. “What?”

“I was scared,” Jeha explained. “I thought that you were going to take my appa away. He was sad for a long after umma was gone, but he was happy when you were together. I know you’re not trying to replace umma but I was worried he was going to forget her.”

“He will never forget her, Jeha,” I assured him. “She’s a huge part of your lives and she always will be. But it doesn’t mean that your appa has to be sad forever to remember her.”

“I know that now,” Jeha answered. “I was being selfish and I wasn’t thinking about how he felt. It’s been a long time since he was happy, but he was happy because he cared about you and you cared about him. You made things better for him, but I ruined it.”

Wow. For a moment, I was just speechless. I was blown away at how reflective the kid was. Was he supposed to be like this? Were other eight-year-olds also like this? “Jeha, it’s not your fault,” I explained to him carefully. And it wasn’t. At the end of the day, I had been too scared to accept everything that came along with Jinyoung, and he’d been too scared to fight for me. The kid had been a trigger, but he wasn’t the only problem. “Sometimes, when adults are together, problems arise. Your appa and I were happy for a while, but if we continue, we might not be. And when we don’t see a future together, it’s alright for us to part. We both made that decision, not you.”

“But you wouldn’t have made that decision if I didn’t scream at you.”

“We can’t know that,” I pointed out with a chuckle. “Either ways, we both thought about it, and we decided that this was for the best. It’s not your fault at all, Jeha. Okay?”

Jeha blinked, clearly confused and not satisfied with my answer. “If this is for the best, then why is Appa so sad?”

My smile faltered. Was he still upset over the break-up? It’d been months by now, and I’d thought that I was slow in my recovery, but even then, I was starting to feel good about myself again. I’d worried about how Jinyoung was doing, of course, but I’d always assumed that he’d be able to get back on his feet quicker than I did, simply because he had more things to worry about in his life.

“He doesn’t go out anymore,” Jeha continued. “He goes to work and then he comes home, and he just lies on the couch for hours at a time, staring at the ceiling. He tries to go out with me, but he’s always so tired and restless. When he smiles or laughs, I can tell that he’s pretending. I think he’s sad because he misses you.”

That did sound bad. It also sounded a lot like how I was the first few weeks. All I wanted to do was to curl up and forget that I could no longer seek shelter in his warm embrace, or feel his loving kisses on my forehead, or hear his deep laughter beside my ear. I hated everything that reminded me of him. I couldn’t look at a book, I couldn’t wear knitted sweaters, and I didn’t even want to let in sunlight because anything warm and bright reminded me of him.

But it got better. It eventually did. And it eventually will for Jinyoung. As much as my heart ached, I knew that I wasn’t the right person to make things better for him.

“Jeha, I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I can’t escape the blame for your appa feeling so down, and I care about him, I really do. But I also want you to know that us being together again is not the answer. If we’re not right for each other, this is going to happen again in the future.” And also, if Jinyoung wanted me back, he knew where to find me. The fact that he’d been avoiding me as much as I had been avoiding him meant that he knew this too. Getting over each other was a battle we had to fight alone.

“But…”

“I know it’s hard to understand,” I told him. “But I’m not the person who can help him feel better, Jeha. You are. You’re the most important person in his life, and if you’re happy and healthy, he’ll be happy too. Can you be strong for him, Jeha?”

Jeha didn’t look like he fully agreed with me, but he nodded anyway. “Does this mean you won’t see us again?”

That hit me a little harder than I thought it would. Yeah, I guess this was it. I forced a smile. How could I break his heart when he was looking at me with that adorable pout that was a splitting image of his father’s? “Of course not. My offer for you to come to my studio to make art still stands. I’ll call you when I have time, okay?”

Even as I said it, I knew I was making a promise I had no intention of keeping.

---

I pulled on the handle of the door, rattling it even though I already knew it was locked. I peered in through the glass, hoping to catch sight of someone, but the lights were off and it was empty.

Exactly the same as it had been the last three times I’d checked.

I sighed and pulled out my phone, calling Jaebum again but like the last three times, it rang on and on with nobody picking up. He’d forced my number out of me that time he’d ambushed me at Yugyeom’s, claiming he might need it ‘for emergencies’, but thankfully hadn’t used it. At least, not until last night, when he’d said that he needed to talk to me and asked me to meet him here, at his café. I’d arrived on time, despite every rational cell in my body telling me that I shouldn’t even be here, and I was quickly regretting it.

His café didn’t even open on Tuesdays.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket, genuinely pissed. He was going to get it from me the next time I saw him. I didn’t even know him that well. I had no idea why he thought it would be fun to pull a prank on me.

I was turning to leave when the sight of someone walking towards me made me freeze.

It was Jinyoung.

He was looking at a bunch of keys in his hand, and didn’t even see me until he was two steps away from me. He was in a casual sweatshirt and jeans, with a cap on his head and a face mask obscuring the bottom half of his face. When he spotted me, he stopped short. Then, he slowly pulled down the mask, as if he felt the need to identify himself.

“Oh,” he said breathlessly. “Hey.”

I didn’t know what to do with myself. “Um, hey.”

We both stood there, staring in silence at each other for a moment. He looked worse than the last time I’d seen him, now that I was looking at him up close. He used to be really sensitive about his facial hair, and would shave a second time in a day if he felt even a hint of stubble. Now, it looked like he’d let it grow for a few days and it was rough and patchy. His face looked gaunt and there were bags under his eyes. There was a frizzy tuft of hair sticking out under his cap that indicated that he’d pulled on the cap hurriedly to hide his messy, unstyled hair. This was a far cry from the poised, put-together Jinyoung that I used to know.

“Wha-uh…” He scratched the back of his neck, looking at me, but not quite meeting my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Jaebum asked me to meet him here,” I said, ignoring the way my heart was beginning to hurt again the longer I stood there looking at him. “I had no idea he, um…”

“Oh, he was meeting you?” Jinyoung asked, surprised. “He said there was an emergency and he needed me to come unlock the door for him. Was there something you needed?”

I shook my head. “No. I actually haven’t been here in a while. He just told me to meet him here without explaining anything, and now he won’t answer my calls.”

The corners of Jinyoung’s lips twitched as realization dawned upon him. “Ah… I see. It looks like he’s done it again.”

I was confused for a moment, but seeing his raised eyebrows, I finally got the message. He’d done this on purpose, so that we would meet. Again. “Dammit. And I fell for it again.”

Jinyoung let out a light chuckle. “So did I. He’s a real meddler, isn’t he?”

“He really is,” I huffed. “I don’t know him very well, but I don’t think I like him very much.”

Jinyoung jingled the keys in his hands. “In that case, shall we take revenge? For all the years I’ve known him, he’s never even offered me a free coffee.”

Just for a split second, I hesitated. I didn’t feel confident enough to be alone with Jinyoung just yet. But with the way he was looking at me hopefully, I just couldn’t say no to him. “Sure. I’ve always thought he overcharged for coffee anyway.”

Jinyoung opened the door of the café and we went inside. I took a seat at the bar, while Jinyoung went behind the counter, switching on equipment with a practiced ease. I allowed myself to indulge in the sight of him grinding coffee beans like a pro. “This look suits you,” I couldn’t stop myself from teasing. “Barista Nyoung.”

Jinyoung cracked a smile. “I’m a man of many talents.”

“I’ll judge for myself after I’ve tasted the coffee,” I quipped. For just a second, I allowed myself to bask in the moment we’d just shared. It felt good, to be able to talk to each other in this light-hearted manner again. I wondered if I’d been worried for nothing. Maybe it was possible for us to be friends.

He finished making two cups of coffee and went around the counter to sit beside me. That felt slightly awkward, even though he made sure to keep a respectful distance between the two of us. I took a sip of the coffee just to fill the empty silence.

“How is it?”

I nodded. “It’s pretty good.”

He nodded too. “Good.”

We both fell silent again. I stared at my coffee, not really wanting to look at him, but I could feel him doing the exact opposite. His body was slightly angled towards me, and I could sense that he was staring at me.

“You look good,” he said after a long time.

“Thanks,” I replied awkwardly, glancing at him. “You too.”

“You don’t have to lie,” Jinyoung said with a bitter smile. He rubbed his chin self-consciously. “I look like a mess.”

I couldn’t even dispute that, so I said nothing and took another sip of coffee.

“So, how’s you and uh…” He scrunched his nose up. “Bam Bam, right?”

My head snapped towards him in astonishment. “What? How did you…”

“I saw you on a date,” Jinyoung admitted. He probably wasn’t sure that I’d seen him too. “And, I uh… I just asked someone. He’s pretty well-known in these parts.”

That, I had no doubt about. During our date, we had been interrupted multiple times by people who had recognized him and just come to say hi. “It wasn’t a real date,” I said sheepishly. “Or, it kinda was, but not… Jihyun set me up. Without telling me.”

“Oh,” Jinyoung said. I wasn’t quite sure if that was glee I detected in his tone. “So… you’re not still seeing him?”

I shook my head. “No. He’s not my type.” I wanted to add that he should know that, but I didn’t.

“I thought so too,” Jinyoung mused. “But I wasn’t sure.”

There was more I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him to give me a bit more credit and that I wouldn’t have moved on so quickly, but we were interrupted by the sound of both our phones going off at the same time.

“It’s Jaebum,” I said, looking at the screen of my phone. I opened the text message that he’d sent.

Just a disclaimer: I wasn’t the mastermind.

There was a photograph attached, and when I opened it, it was a picture of him and Jeha, both of them grinning cheekily for the camera. I looked up at Jinyoung, and he held out his phone to me, to show me that he’d gotten the exact same message.

“Now he’s even corrupting your son,” I complained. “You should really re-assess your friendship.”

Jinyoung chuckled. “I don’t know. I feel like I need him. He’s always the one who gives me a push when I’m too afraid to go after what I want.”

I looked at him, feeling my mouth turn dry. He wasn’t joking anymore. I could tell by his expression.

“I was always painfully shy,” Jinyoung explained. “When I met my wife, I had the biggest crush on her. We took the same classes for two years, but I didn’t even dare to say hi. It was Jaebum who introduced us. When I graduated, I really wanted to work for my current company, but I didn’t have the confidence to apply because my grades weren’t fantastic and they were the top publishing house in the country. Jaebum was the one who sent in my resume. He was always there for all the important moments in my life, helping me find the courage to make major decisions. He was there when I proposed, he was there when Jeha was born, and he was there when my wife passed. He was the one who made me talk to you, and that’s still something I’m extremely grateful for.”

“Technically, he made me talk to you,” I pointed out with a small smile.

He, too, smiled at the memory. “And that was the push I needed. Today, too… It looks like he’s done it again. I was too much of a coward to call you, even though I was dying to talk to you. It’s like he knew what I wanted, even without me saying it.”

My heart was pounding in my chest now. This was the reason why I’d been avoiding him. I couldn’t listen to him say these things. “You could have called. If you wanted to talk. I would have answered.”

“I wanted to,” Jinyoung said, looking sad. “So many times. When things got hard, all I wanted was to hear your voice. But how could I? I’d hurt you so much. I couldn’t be selfish and stop you from moving on.”

There were so many emotions swirling within me that I couldn’t even begin to process them. “I thought you didn’t call because you wanted a clean break. Because you didn’t want me back.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jinyoung said, looking pained. “There’s nothing I want more than to have you beside me again, but how can I? I have nothing to offer you, and you deserve so much better.”

“Stop saying that,” I chided, feeling tears well up. “You keep saying that, but you can’t decide for me what I want, or what I deserve. You broke up with me without even asking me what I wanted.”

Jinyoung looked down, ashamed. “I know, and I’m sorry. It just didn’t seem fair that you had to make such a big sacrifice to be with me. And I can’t change my circumstances. I’ve been married before, and I have a child…”

“Did you think of asking me if I was willing to make such a sacrifice?” I asked. “If I minded any of that?”

“Well, did you?”

He’d asked that so suddenly that I was stunned. We stared at each other for a long while. Mixed within the hurt and pain was now a hint of hope. But I knew I couldn’t let myself get carried away in the moment and make another empty promise. “Jinyoung… Our break-up wasn’t entirely your fault. I was scared. I don’t know if I was ready to make that decision. I just wished you didn’t make it for me.”

Jinyoung’s shoulders slumped. “I know. It was my fault. I shouldn’t have rushed things before you were both ready. Both you and Jeha suffered because I was greedy.”

I couldn’t disagree. “Maybe. But I understand where you were coming from. I mean, you really love Jeha—”

“And you,” he interrupted me, his eyes unwavering. “I also love you.”

That took the wind out of my lungs again. Firstly, he’d never said that before, when we were dating. Secondly, he’d said it in the present tense. Love, not loved.

“Are you that surprised?” he asked, his forehead creasing just the slightest. “What I feel towards you is strong, and powerful. It’s not some silly fling that I can get over easily. When I saw you on that date, looking so cozy with another man, I thought I was going to die.”

I couldn’t believe that he was saying all these things now, of all times, after we’d already broken up. Frankly, I was a bit annoyed. This was exactly how it’d been at the beginning, when he’d been too much of a coward to talk to me, and I’d had to make the first move. And then again, after he kissed me and pretended that it didn’t happen. I was done with him being so confusing and just saying all these things to sway me, and then doing absolutely nothing about it. I folded my arms over my chest. “Then say it.”

He looked confused. “Say what?”

“You want me back, right?” I asked, eyebrow raised. “Then ask me. Ask me to take you back.”

I could see the conflicting emotions that flashed through his mind. “I… I can’t.”

“Then you won’t have me back. Ever.”

“Ryeowon…”

“You don’t have the right to say all these things to me if you’re not going to ask me,” I stated shortly. “How do you know that I’m going to say yes? If I feel like I’ll be suffering by being with you, I can say no. The point is, I have the right to decide. When you don’t ask me, you take that away from me.” He tried to say something, but I was on a roll. “And when you don’t ask, you never make your intentions known. For all I know, you’re not willing to fight to make things work.”

“I am,” Jinyoung insisted desperately. “It’s just…” He took a deep breath. “You’re right. I’ve been incredibly selfish. I need to learn how to just put my feelings out there, even if it means getting hurt.”

“I’ve always done that with you,” I said softly. “I never held back when I was with you.”

“And that’s something I love about you,” Jinyoung responded. “You’re so much braver and stronger than I am.” He took off his cap and ran a hand through his unruly hair. “This break-up really wrecked me big-time, but look at you…”

I snorted. “What? If you’d seen me two weeks ago…”

“I’m sure you would have been just as beautiful as you are now,” Jinyoung said, smiling fondly at me. He reached out to clasp my hands in his. “I love you. I really, really do.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “And…?”

“I’ve been an idiot,” he continued. “But please, can we try again? I promise this time, I won’t pressure you into anything you’re not ready for, and I won’t make assumptions and decisions—”

“Stop,” I cut him off, unable to stop the smile from tugging at my lips. “No explanations, no putting yourself down. Get straight to the point.”

He chuckled, his hands tightening around mine just slightly. “Please, Ryeowon, will you take me back?”

“I’m scared too,” I admitted. “There’s no guarantee that it’ll work out, or that there’ll be a future for us. There are a million and one things that could possibly go wrong. But I’m willing to try together, to work things out.”

“No explanations,” Jinyoung teased. “Get straight to the point. A simple yes or no would suffice.”

I scowled, snatching my hands away from him, and he burst out laughing, before tugging me to him. For the first time since we’d started talking, his smile actually reached the corners of his eyes. He pulled me closer, and kissed me in a way that had me melting into him.

I’d missed him so much. For a long time, it’d felt like I was cold and empty inside, but now, he was here and he was mine again, and it was making me feel warmth I never thought imaginable. It felt like I’d spent a long day out in the cold, and then wandered into a café and now had a steaming cup of long black in my hands.

For the first time in my life, sitting there with Jinyoung in that café, I finally understood what love felt like:

A cup of coffee.

#jinyoung #got7 jinyoung #got7 #park jinyoung #fanfic #writing #fluff #angst #kpop fanfic #got7 fanfic

[ayellowbirds]

Fifth night of writing! Up to 8985 words, thanks to a burst of writing when i really should have been already asleep. Four kids with letters for names face consequences.

Be advised that this part focuses on feelings of dysphoria in a young egg! 

i’m currently only able to work for 14 hours a week; donations to support this are welcome! Feel free to let me know when you’ve donated, I’ll see about including a tribute of some sort to you in the text of the story:

https://www.paypal.me/ayellowbirds

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As always, keep track of the tag for updates!

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Click the Read More to continue, or click here for the previous part, and here for the first part!

And so it was that they sat in front of Captain Tserac, feeling both physically and emotionally in the pits.

“The four of you,” Tserac intoned, pale, watery eyes looking down at them from a gaunt face tinged slightly blue, “have been very fortunate indeed. Tell me, do you recall how it is that you became trainees here?”

“In recognition of our excellent academic and physical performance in our studies at the Imperial Children’s Home,” intoned J., repeating a line they’d heard many times, the first a mere three years ago when the letters of selection had arrived.

“Just so,” Tserac nodded, taking a sip of for a glass of medicated soda water. The stuff was favored among Icosan citizens, and strictly regulated by laws forbidding its sale or consumption by anyone except full-blooded Icosans* certified by the Imperial Bureau of Statistics. “And do you recall to what purpose you are receiving training?”

* The official reason being that Icosans possessed a natural physiognomy that allowed them to consume the drink without “succumbing to rambunctious and licentious behavior”. The real reason was that the alchemically treated silver solutions in the beverage were the source of the side effects that caused habitual drinkers to develop a bluish-gray skin tone, which had become fashionable amongst the Icarian elite a generation back. It simply wouldn’t do for any Icarian citizens except Icosans to be able to display such hallmarks of good taste and breeding.

“To contribute to the betterment of society and ensure the freedom of all citizens by removing subversive elements and rooting out the evil of anarchism and preventing inchoate sedition,” offered N. this time, again a verbatim repetition.

“And for what reason, hm?” asked Tserac, licking his thin lips as he finished his drink. He looked to B. This was the routine: questions in a series of four, with the expectation that each row being questioned would answer in reverse order. It was typical—but not always the case—that the most challenging question be directed at the leader of the row.

Thus, B. answered: “in order to repay the kindness shown by the Emperor himself in securing a home and an education for us after our discovery as foundlings.”

V. heard a twinge of pain in her voice. Most of the children from the ICF had some measure of sadness about their status as orphans, though a few weathered it well enough that it wasn’t obvious. They didn’t lack for anything, and had seen on educational and holiday trips how rough it could be even for children with families of their own, without the Emperor’s blessing. That said, it seemed like a particularly sore subject with B.

But Tserac seemed satisfied by this. “So you understand. And make no mistake, you are receiving an education here that is the envy of citizens fully twice your age, particularly those in the military academies. Why, I myself was not so fortunate as to have the caliber of training you receive in your physical education.”

As he said this, Tserac made a point of brushing off the medals on his breast. Although his rank was officially ‘Captain’, it was understood by all the trainees and officials alike that Thasgeril Tserac held far higher status. After all, he was considered by the Imperial Army to be the one suitable for overseeing their training. And V. had felt on more than one occasion that the bony old man seemed to be a bit too quick to dodge stray bits from food fights, avoid soapy floors in the midst of being scrubbed, and take notice of  trainees hiding where they ought not to be.

“Which is precisely why the four of you need to pay more attention in your lessons,” Tserac continued, now turning his gaze to V. “When I was a cadet myself, I daren’t think I would have been caught doing something so unseemly as raiding a secret stash of candies when I was meant to be studying. Don’t you think so, Mr. V.? I should expect—”

It wasn’t a rhetorical question, and Tserac expected an answer. He was saying more, but all that V. could hear was the sound of blood rushing, heartbeat pumping. It didn’t make much sense that something so simple could be so rattling.

It wasn’t just that Tserac twisted the pronunciation of the letter of V.’s name—being foundlings without any known surname or given name, they had each been assigned a letter† from the Stafroph, the revered Icarian Alphabet established by the Immortal Emperor Earsil himself in his youth—turning what everyone else read as the letter “Uht” or “Vuht” into “Hwot”, insisting on applying his frustratingly Icosan accent to the sound.

† V. was, in point of fact, V.5, the youngest V out of the precisely one hundred orphans at the Imperial Children’s Home, and younger than the rest of Row Four by a solid year. 

It wasn’t just the inexplicable way that he emphasized “Mr.”, either. V. couldn’t explain why that title was so upsetting, why it felt the same way that being called “young man” or “boy” or “he” did, while all of those threw everything off stride. After all, V. was born a boy, so that all just made sense as the way to refer to… him, right?

V. managed to blurt out an answer that seemed to satisfy Tserac, who offered a wide, thin smile in response.

“Excellent,” he said, so snappily and formally, so much in that ‘at attention’ voice, that V.’s spine straightened on impulse. The old Icosan pulled out his pocketwatch, not actually looking at its face. “The four of you are to report to the Witching Hall. There is a special review that you are required to attend, and I should expect you will be pleased with the results. Afterwards, we shall find some means of exercising your taste for adventure with additional training and chores—but time is slipping away, and there is a schedule to keep to for the time being. Row Four, dismissed.”

Before V. fully realized what was happening, the four of them were out the door and rushing down the passages to the Witching Hall. Clarity came soon enough to realize that Chief Nurse Eciurtal was passing in the opposite direction, looking very frustrated about something and focusing on Tserac’s door.

“Children,” she greeted them, and all four saluted without stopping.

“I can’t believe that’s all we got away with,” N. gasped, fussing with her hair. The tight blonde coils had gotten out of place at some point, and she was trying to put them back into  a bun while keeping up with the others.

“Well, maybe he figures this sick feeling is enough punishment,” V. suggested, but something felt off about that. Sweat dripped down… his brow. V. swept it back, slicking red locks into an upward sweep. Maybe it was just the usual weird discomfort. Something to talk to the nurses about, maybe? It was getting harder to ignore, lately.

“You think so?” B. asked, with the kind of expression that suggested she had some notion what the reason was, or—more likely, in V.’s opinion—wanted them all to think that she did.

“Well, I can’t think of anything aside from that and that he wants us to try harder not to be caught, and was trying to tell us that the whole reason we’re here is to become better at sneaking into places we’re not supposed to be,” guessed J., sounding far away in thought.

They scrambled down the stairs in silence, turning the corner to the walkway that led to the Witching Hall. It was only once they got into the fresh air in sight of the entryway where the other rows were milling about that all but one of them slowed, J. running ahead for a moment before noticing and turning back.

“You think that’s it?” asked N.

V. turned to look out over the edge of the walkway, considering the idea. “I wouldn’t put it past the Captain.”

Far below, the grays and greens of western Dembenklion gave way to the smaller state of Charnozam, all fertile black earth checked with the green of farmlands and the shining slickness of as-yet undrained swamps. The wind whipped around the walkway, and birds flew underneath. Being up in The Mountain afforded quite the view of the world, and the instructors were fond of talking about that in grand metaphorical ways.

Suddenly, V. felt like maybe there were more important things to focus on than a little inexplicable discomfort.

Twenty-six minutes later, V. felt very differently.

THE PRESENT DAY

“I really can’t thank you enough for bringing this particular shipment,” Menax said between mouthfuls of pickle. While it made for a convenient cover, Belaset’s crate of ‘pickles’ was in fact part of one of the other ways she earned a living, making deliveries for a local factory. The cucumbers that had provided camouflage for the true nature of Menax’s delivery were genuinely good.

In spite of that, Belaset cringed. “I don’t know how you can stomach those, considering.”

Menax looked at the pickle, and back at Belaset. “Well, it’s not as though they were touching anything. But if this business is too sour for your tastes, I have something—or rather, a couple somethings, that are a bit sweeter.”

The trio were back up in Menax’s kitchen, where Musick had been enjoying a bit more of the doctor’s cooking. Belaset had found space in a corner—managing to fill it entirely, in spite of having easily found her way downstairs into the comparatively small space of the secret cellar. She had the broadsheet in one hand, and had been practicing reading it. Menax found that he rather enjoyed the sound of her efforts at literacy, a recent pursuit that he strongly encouraged since she had become his regular employee.

He made his way over to a small desk beside his icebox, from which he produced an envelope, waving it at Belaset. “Your payment.”

Belaset smiled, and then grinned even broader at him as Menax reached into his vest pocket and produced another few bills, adding, “plus a bonus for the, ah, exceptional quality of this shipment.”

Outside of the cellar, he never spoke openly of the true nature of their business. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t compensate her fairly. He passed the envelope and additional bills to Belaset, who took them out and counted. The standard twenty-five dollars, plus a bonus of five. Equivalent to a week and a half’s pay at a decent hourly rate in more mundane labor, with the way inflation was at the time.

And then there was the other bonus. He turned back not to the desk, but to the icebox, and opened it in search of a particular treasure within it. He pulled out a large, spiny object from which several stiff leaves projected. Were it not for the leaves, one might have mistaken it for the egg of some great reptile or terrible monstrous bird, but it was something far more special than all of that.

“Either of you ever see one of these?” he asked Belaset and Musick both, as he brought the strange object over to the cutting board, setting it down as he fished around the kitchen drawers in search of a suitable knife. Settling on a long knife with a good point, he set it at just the right level. It had been a few years since he’d done this, though once he had the blade in position, he could already feel the right way to cut. “It’s a fruit from the island, called an ananas, though the Icosans insist for some reason on calling it a ‘pineapple’. I suppose it looks enough like a pinecone at first, but—”

He began chopping off parts, starting with the top and bottom before spearing the whole fruit on the blade and coring it with a twist of his wrist. He gave it a thump, sliding out the core so that it fell neatly into the sink, before spinning the ananas around and cutting off the sides, taking care not to remove his own fingers along with the thorny exterior and leaves. Finally, he set the now vivid yellow fruit on its side, and began cutting it into discs—rings, really—and laying them out in a row across the cutting board. He speared one of the largest ones on the end of the knife, and with another flick of his wrist, threw it across the room to Belaset.

She caught it, gave it a close look and a sniff, and slid the whole ring into her mouth, chewing tentatively. “Mmm!” was all she could manage.

“Isn’t it?” Menax laughed, cutting several pieces on a plate to bring over to Musick. “I used to get them more often, one of my classmates came from a family in the business of importing fruit.”

“I never heard of it,” his landlady said, licking at the plate first, and then planting her face into it to gobble up the chunks of sweet, juicy fruit.

#yenne velt: dead names #my writing

[praydastles]

Title: Shaped For Me Fandom: Monsta X Member: Wonho/Hoseok Genre/Warning: Kinktober, smut,  Forniphilia (Human Furniture), Rimming, minor branding Summary/Request: Day 2:  Forniphilia (Human Furniture) In which Hoseok makes the perfect table A/N: So, I found out about Kinktober late and also just found out what forniphilia is and I’ve probably wrote it horribly and this is probably boring and its also barely smut but if anyone reads, enjoy! Word Count: 1432  

“Remember the signals?” Hoseok blinked up at you, mouth stretched around the ball of his gag before nodding in affirmation. Your fingers drew closer to his face, cupping his cheek gently as you smiled. “Good boy.”

Your heeled feet circled him, watching him, making sure he was positioned to your liking, as sturdy as a table. His knees must have ached from its position; calfs bound by rope to the thickness of his thighs, feet in the air, his body stretched out, made to be as straight and flat as possible, his arms sturdy and keeping him upright. His head bowed inward toward his chest.

He looked so beautiful like this; a fully capable man being reduced to, as laughable as it sounds, an inanimate object. But, you felt honoured of how he was so subservient toward you; you had built up mutual trust, both emotionally and physically in the months of being together, and he had no qualms in participating in this little act for you. He trusted you.

You settled on the sofa and then, brought your legs up, resting on his back as if he were a real table. You turned on the TV, not even paying him any mind as you settled on a programme. Hoseok was careful not to move or to even make a sound, only his soft breaths being released. He tried steadying his breath, his air flow restricted from his position, but he could handle it for the moment.

You sat through the whole hour of the programme, impressed when the credits rolled on the screen that you hadn’t felt hoseok move at all. You removed your feet from him, noting the reddening area of where you had rested on him, and sat up, reaching a hand forward to run along the skin of back, the muscles bunched and tense. “All good baby boy?”

Hoseok gave the signal that you allowed him; the only time he was able to make any movements and smiled softly. He really was a good boy.

Your fingers lightly trailed around his back, goosebumps trailing his back and you heard the subtle change in Hoseok’s breathing. You watched how his muscles ticked, you felt how the planes of his back was smooth and firm, his muscles tensed to stabilize himself. You shifted onto the floor, knees burying into the plush carpet as you lowered your lips to his skin, lightly grazing your teeth, suckling and licking at reddening skin. Hoseok had begun to struggle.

It was harder to breath as his chin pressed to his neck, he was unable to swallow the saliva building in his mouth as the gag stretched his lips, allowing his drool to run out the sides of his thick lips. His legs were aching long ago, knees red and sore from its position, the rope biting into his skin with each passing minute, but, he loved it, all of it. Your lips pulled away from his skin and he tried to suppress the shudder than raked through him.

You rose to stand, your shadow casting over Hoseok and he badly wanted to look up at you standing over him, at how he was at your feet, vulnerable for you.

“Hmm, tea sounds good right now.” As you turned on your heels Hoseok sucked in a breath, he knew what that meant and he felt the twinges of arousal stir in his stomach. Use me to the fullest.

Hoseok shifted his head on slightly to watch you from his peripheral. Your long legs, seemingly longer in those heels were strong and calculated, your arse shapely and bared, the black lace disappearing between your cheeks as you strutted toward the kitchen.

Glasses clinked, knocking against each other while you raided your cupboards. You flicked the switch on the kettle after filling it with water and waited for it to boil. As you waited you grabbed a knife and approached Hoseok. You cut the binds on his legs, letting them drop to the floor, quickly squeezing at the flesh to get his blood going. Hoseok didn’t say anything, even when you patted his head and he felt warm and safe, knowing you’d look after him. You left his legs like that and then walked back to the kitchen, leaving the knife on the counter as you made your tea.

When you came back Hoseok was in the same position. You tilted your head, looking at his face tucked in. How it was slowly reddening. Placing the tea on the floor, you squatted down and then lifted his face up toward you, your fingers went behind his head and unclasped the gag, letting it fall away from his face, thick trails of spit strung between his lips and the gag. You stroke his cheeks and lips, “Breathe.” You tell him and watch as he gulps in air, once, twice, three times, “stop.” You bought the ball gag up and refitted it, clasping it in place again before patting his head. “Good boy.” Hoseok’s head resumed its position and you stood, reaching down to carefully grab your tea.

When you sat, your feet came up to its original position on Hoseok’s back, and while it was impressive how steady Hoseok held himself, you wanted to see how good he could be. You bent your knees so your heels could dig into your table and sipped on your tea, smirking when Hoseok made the smallest of noises at the back of his throat. Hoseok resisted twitching or cowering away as the sharpness dug into him, he also resisted moaning as his cock began to twitch.

You drank some more tea, watching the hot steam waft from the cup before sighing and reaching forward to place on your table. Hoseoks eyes widened, he was waiting, but still feeling the heat hover over his skin made him want to flinch. When you placed the cup down initially he didn’t feel too bad, but as the cup balanced and settled onto his skin Hoseok tried biting around the ball, feeling the heat bite into his skin, almost branding him. Hoseok visibly shivered thinking that you branded his skin and before he could push it down he felt your heel dig harsher into him. “Why, my table is a little unbalanced.” You relieved the pressure of your heel and then stood, walking behind him and kneeling down as if inspecting.

“I wonder if it’s broken?” Your nails trailed up his thighs to the cheeks of his arse, stinging red lines left on his skin. “It is a bit wobbly…” You trailed off shaking his cheeks around. Hoseok’s chest subtly heaved faster at your touch, wanting to push his hips back toward you, almost forgetting about the tea on his back.

Your hands spread his arse cheeks, eyes trailing his shrivelled hole and then down his hanging balls and swollen cock choked by the ring. “I wonder why…” A hand releasing his soft cheek and two fingers trail over his hole, almost in wonder and follow down, over his perineum, over his scrotum and then finally, fingers follow down his twitching cock. Your lips neared his skin, tongue licking the smooth expanse of his cheek, then teeth sinking in easily, Hoseok’s toes curling at the sensation. Your tongue licked as close to his rim as possible, the muscle clenching, especially when you pulled back to blow light air on it. Hoseok let out an unintentional whimper when your nails dug even hard into his cheeks and your tongue licked just above his balls.

His noise had you pausing, leaning back on your heels, touch leaving him all together. Hoseok resisted whining out, resisted begging, because he knew that would definitely not get what he wanted.

You huffed. “A bit creaky too. Let me see how sturdy it is… may need a new one…” You spoke to yourself and stood. Hoseok braced himself as you threw a leg on the other side of his back and then settled down on him like some kind of animal. You began rolling your hips, your pussy grinding onto the expanse of his taut back. “Hmm, still seems pretty strong.” And then you rolled harder, “Hmmm.” Hoseok felt your weight push down on your palms and when he felt your fingers run through his hair he made the signal so you knew he was still okay. Your hand reached down and slipped into the band of your underwear, tips of your fingers finding your gushing hole. “Fuck… I’m soaked.” And this time Hoseok moaned out.

“Oh dear, tables don’t moan.”

#mxwriters #ksmutnet #kinktober #forniphilia #monsta x smut #wonho smut #hoseok smut #mx smut #unedited #sangdoldolfics

[cilldaracailin]

Under Pressure

This story can be found on AO3 here: http://www.archiveofourown.org/works/23570293/chapters/56548318

27

“Emotional pain cannot kill you, but running from it can. Allow. Embrace. Let yourself feel. Let yourself heal.”

“Let’s start with that shoulder then.” Said Phoebe “Can you pull your t-shirt off for me and I will get you to sit on the chair.”

Robyn automatically did as she was asked, leaving her bloodied and ripped light blue polo shirt on the hospital bed as she took a seat on the chair.

“Ok great and if you sit up straight for me.”

The Doctor took a seat on a stool behind Robyn on the chair and carefully moved her hair over her right shoulder. “Joe covered this for you?” She asked as she pulled on a pair of gloves from the box on the table to her left.

“Yeah in the ambulance. Taron and Richard had already cleaned the cut out in the 7/11.”

“And how did this happen?” Asked Phoebe as she peeled the surgical tape from the bandage.

“I was pushed into a glass shelf.”

“Nice. Very nice.” Repeated Phoebe as she examined the small cut. “Yep will definitely need a stitch, maybe two. I am going to give you a little anaesthetic Robyn. I can see this looks real tender and sore and even one stitch can be painful.”

“Sure. Whatever you need.”

Robyn’s energy was officially drained. She looked to her watch and found it hard to believe that it was near half four in the morning. She had walked into the 7/11 just after five yesterday evening.

“Been a long night for you?”

“You have no idea.”

“You will just feel a little pinch Robyn as this anaesthetic goes in.” It was more than a pinch and Robyn had to bit her lip, as the needle helped to filter the anaesthetic into her shoulder. “Ok that will kick in quickly and I’ll get those stitches in. While that’s working, I am going to put something on these shoulders to soothe that sunburn.” Phoebe really wanted Robyn to open up emotionally but got the impression that it was going to take a bit of effort on her part. Robyn came across as a young woman who was used to keeping her feelings to herself so the Doctor knew she had to try and ease her patient into the tough conversation of discussing the after effects of executing CPR on someone. She stood up and opened the press above her head and took out the medicated aloe vera after sun each examination room had for cases just like Robyn’s. “This had some pain relief in too Robyn so it will ease that sting. I am going to move your bra straps down to the side of your arms.”

There was an instant cooling sensation and Robyn melted into the hands that were kneading her shoulders. The pressure was not as soft was Taron’s and Phoebe didn’t have the thoughtful circular motion that he had used but it was the relief from the burning sensation that she most relished in.

“I will prescribe a pain relief rub for your shoulders Robyn.”

“There really is no need. I have lots of after sun I can use.”

“You can mix the two together. It will just take that prickly feeling away.” Phoebe pulled the gloves off and put another pair on. “I am going to get this stitch in now. Will only take a minute or two and then I can cover it up. I will get you a pair of scrubs to pop on.”

There was silence for the five minutes that it took the Doctor to stitch up Robyn’s shoulder and put a small dressing over it, Robyn just enjoying the quiet and stillness that the mood in the examination room provided. The last few hours had been a complete whirlwind and now Robyn was starting to feel her own aches and twinges as her body started to unwind from the rush of earlier and although she was still thinking about Taron, she couldn’t deny that she was thankful that he was in the hospital being given paramount medical care and the responsibility had been passed from her hands.

“All done.” Phoebe got to her feet and disposed of her gloves and the materials she had used from the suture kit. “Give me two seconds to grab you something to wear.”

“No need.” Said Robyn as she stood up and picked up her polo shirt from the bed. “This is fine. Honestly.” She added when she saw the disapproving look on the doctor’s face and pulled her shirt back on.

“Ok well have a lay down on the bed for me then and I will just give you a once over.”

The pillow behind her head was soft and Robyn couldn’t help the sigh that left her lips. It was a softness she could sink into.

“So, it really has been a full-on night for you and your friends.”

“Friends is a loose term. I only met Taron and Richard in the store tonight, well last night.”

“Wait what?” Asked Phoebe as she stopped examining the cut on Robyn’s head. “You haven’t met them before?”

“Nope.”

“So, you helped a complete stranger in a hostage situation?”

“Yep.”

“And actually gave him CPR without question.”

Robyn hesitated, not expecting the topic of their conversation to turn so solemn so quickly. “Yeah I did. I just didn’t think when I saw he wasn’t breathing.”

Phoebe took her patients right hand in hers and looked at the dark bruising on the back of her hand. “It takes a lot of guts to do something as vital as CPR and I can see you really went hard with those compressions. How rounds did you have to do?”

“One full round and a few more compressions.”

“And he started breathing straight after?”

“Yeah he did.”

“That was a very quick response, no wonder your hand is tender.” Phoebe watched at Robyn looked down to her own hand, her left one rubbing over the bruise. “At the time you didn’t think twice, but now that’s it done; I am sure you haven’t been able to think of anything since. It brings a lot of burdened emotions.” Robyn nodded as Phoebe placed a hand on her left cheek and turned her face to look at the coloured bruising there. “And it is ok to feel like that but let’s put some positives in through those dark thoughts I know you are having right now. The most important one, Taron, your stranger friend, is very much alive and is in the best hands with Doctor Hart so you don’t need to worry about him but I am a little worried about you and how you are feeling. It is normally the person who performs the CPR experiences a bit more distress. Once it is done, it becomes very real and unnerving and I know you are a strong woman but I just want to make sure your head is not over thinking things.”

Robyn was ready to write a strongly worded letter to the Paramedics of Clearwater hospital, addressed to Joe. She knew he had said something subtly to the doctor when he was delivering his handover about her, however Taron and Richard had already broke through her barriers in the 7/11 and what normally would have been an immediate reaction to close off when anyone tried to get through those walls she kept up, Robyn was beginning to realise that most people had her best interests in heart, people like the doctor, Taron and Richard and Robyn found herself wanting to get some of the building emotions off her chest.

“I have never met Taron before so that did make it easier in some respects but it really wasn’t until the madness had calmed down in the ambulance that my hands started to shake. Joe gave me a bit of a pep-talk, that helped.”

“Joe is known to give a good pep-talk.”

“He is good at it. You are right, I didn’t think twice and the adrenaline just kept me going and I knew I just needed to get Taron breathing again but it really isn’t until afterwards in the ambulance that the realisation of what I have done hit me. I mean, I had Taron’s life literally in my hands.” The doctor nodded. “And I know he will be ok but it is a flurry of emotions. I work with children so I am used to stressful situations and incidents that have me thinking on my feet but remembering that lifeless look on his face and having my hands on his unresponsive body, it’s hard to shake that image.”

“It is extremely overwhelming and particularly upsetting and the way you described the emotion of administering CPR on another person as a flurry is exactly what it is. What is most important for you to remember though is that he is going to be just fine. I am sure you are tired of hearing that but when you see Taron up and about again, it will make it easier for you but until then it is quite a lot to take in and the emotions will be around for a while. They don’t just disappear.”

“I don’t think it has actually hit me full force yet, never mind the CPR but the whole chaos of what happened in the store.”

“In a few days it will but what’s most important is that you talk about how you are feeling and especially talk to Taron and his other friend too. Only you three were there, so only you three can actually understand the emotions you will be feeling and by talking to each other you can support each other in ways that others can’t.” Robyn laughed a nervous laugh. “What’s that laugh for?”

“I am actually due to head to the airport to fly home to Ireland in about six hours. “

“Wait what? Don’t you live here?”

“I did up until today. I was only here for six months on an exchange programme of sorts in the day care I work in and my flight is tomorrow, well today.”

“What talk about complicated mess.” Phoebe stood up from her chair. “You have a level head, you are good at thinking on your feet and I can see that you are very aware of the emotions that come with the responsibility of administering CPR but no matter what happens, whether you stay or go home, please find someone to talk to about this while experience.”

Robyn and Phoebe turned to look at the door when there were three sharp knocks on it.

“Come in.” Said Phoebe and Officer Edwards walked in.

“Hey Robyn. Doctor Keane, sorry to interrupt but I have Robyn’s cell phone for her.” The Officer walked into the room and over to the bed and handed her the phone. “I have Taron and Richard’s too. Can I give them to you to give to them please?”

“Yeah of course. I will mind them.” Robyn took the other two phones and placed them on the bed beside her.

“Thank you and I also have your bag.” He held up Robyn’s black shoulder bag. “I thought you might like to have this back.” He handed it over to her.

“I didn’t even think about my bag. Thank you so much.” Robyn put it beside the phones in the bed.

“No problem at all and I thought you might like to know; Frankie and the others have been charged without question and we don’t need any statements or anything from you. We got the CCTV footage from the 7/11.”

“Thank you so much Officer.”

“No problem at all. I will leave you too it.”

Officer Edwards quickly left the room, closing the door behind him.

“You heard what I said before that police officer came in Robyn?”

“Yeah I did and I will. I have a real good friend at home that I know I can turn too, if I need too.”

“Good. Right I just want to do one quick check over you. I am happy with that small cut on your head and your hand is going to be sore for a few days. The bruising on your face will take a few days to fade but no lasting damage. Can I just lift this t-shirt to check your ribs? Joe told me you got a quick punch there so I just want to do a quick check.” Phoebe quickly pulled up Robyn’s shirt. “No mark, or bruising.” She pulled down the t-shirt. “Ok I am happy with you. I am going to prescribe you some painkillers to go with that cream for your shoulders. Those stitches will have to come out in ten days but I will write you a letter for your own doctor so you can get that done at home or if you are still in Clearwater you can come back here and you can get it taken out. I will also get you some sterile dressings so you can keep it covered. Robyn I may have given you the all clear but you still need to take it easy ok?”

Another knock came to the door and the nurse who was looking after Taron came in. “Hey Phoebe, Doctor Hart heard that Officer Edwards had found Taron’s phone and wanted to know if anyone had contacted his family yet. We have done some tests on him but want to make sure he has no allergies before we consider any more medication. We’re ready to get him to CT now too.”

“We have just gotten the phones but we will get onto making that call right now and I will come and find you when it’s done. I need to get some supplies for Robyn.”

“Ok great. Thank you.”

“How is Taron?” Asked Robyn sitting up on the bed.

“He is in the best hands.” Said Ruth and she quickly left the room.

Phoebe looked to Robyn who was now looking back to the bruise on her hand. “It’s what we say when we are still doing tests and waiting on results Robyn. It doesn’t mean anything negative. We need all the clear and concise information about our patients before we inform their friends and family so we can answer all their questions.” She sat on the chair beside the bed. “So, shall we try and contact Taron’s family? You want to turn on his phone?”

Robyn looked to the doctor. “I really think Richard should call his mam. They are really good friends and it would be better if she spoke to him rather than me. She has only spoken to me once and that was by pure accident.”

“Remember I told you, that you had a level head and were good in a crisis? Men not so much. I think you should call his mom.” Robyn raised an eyebrow. “You work with children, right? You’re good at relaying tough and sensitive information about behaviour and accidents to parents. Speaking to Taron’s mom will be the same and you were the one who has been with him the whole time keeping him calm. You can reassure her that he is ok and he will be ok.”

Robyn ran her hands through her hair before picking up the phone she knew was Taron’s and turned it on with the button at the side. It was not a phone call she particularly wanted to make but understood why she was the more reasonable choice to call Taron’s mam. “If this has a password, I won’t be able to get in.” The phone went straight to the lock screen. “Guess we are in luck. No password required.” She unlocked the screen, Taron’s smiling face looking up at her and she went straight into his contacts looking for his mam’s phone number. Thankfully Taron was somewhat predictable and his mam’s number was under ‘mam’.

Seeing that Robyn had unlocked Taron’s phone and was ready to make the phone call, Doctor Keane knew this a call that needed some privacy so she got up from the chair and headed to the door. “I am going to go and get this prescription filled for you and then come back and pass that allergy information onto Doctor Hart. You think about Taron. I am sure he would want you to be making this call. Just be factual, supportive and positive, ok?”

“Hmm.” Replied Robyn, only half listening as her finger hovered over the call button. She heard the click of the door closing and with a deep breath she pressed call. She got off the bed and found herself walking in circles around the examination room as she waited for the call to be answered.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Richard Madden #Angst #Friendship #Blood and Injury #Hospitals

[mountphoenixrp]

We have a returning citizen in Mount Phoenix:

                                   Psyche, the Goddess of Soul and Beauty,                                           whose origins stem from Ancient Greece.                                                     She is now a freelance artist.

FC NAME/GROUP: Lee Jieun (IU)/Soloist GOD NAME: Psyche PANTHEON: Greek OCCUPATION: Freelance Artist/Painter HEIGHT: 162cm WEIGHT: Slim, Soft, Malleable but Curvy DEFINING FEATURES: She usually paints flowers and constellations on her skin. They’re like tattoos, but temporary but as they only tend to show up as and whenever she feels like painting them.

PERSONALITY: Even with the amount of years that she has lived, Psyche is still seems ever the delicate but innocent little flower, preferring to keep to her own paints and flowers, rather than socialising with others. A scar resides in the depths of her delicate heart, deep from the past that has festered and been pushed down, believed even by herself to have been left alone and all forgotten.

“Even after all this time, what’s in the past still hurts.”

Overly understanding and kind, Psyche never really has that much of a temper, her whims and fancies always seemingly being pushed or easily convinced by others. Having gone through enough of being taken for granted and left in the dust, the goddess now choses to be reclusive instead of openly active and mingling with everyone. She will still do so if need be, but not voluntarily. People often mistake Psyche as having her head in the clouds, or being lost somewhere in another thoughtful dimension that fails to be breached by others. While there are times that she truly does this (more often than not), but its merely just how she functions as a whole. More inclined to listen to others than speak, Psyche is a good listener, and a unique thinker, her soft personality having its own rare streak of rebelliousness and vehemence if she ever feels like it. She is also surprisingly decisive, and sentimental—so if she treasures someone or something, she will do everything in her power to understand them and be forbearing towards them, but once she has deemed them to have emotionally hurt her enough, she will cut all ties cleanly with them and leave, almost never to be seen by them ever again.

“Hurt me enough, and I’ll brush my hands off you, cleanly.”

HISTORY: Part I “Isn’t she sweet—just being all alone?”

A flower in the midst of all the males of her kingdom, Psyche was once, one of the three princesses of her kingdoms, whose beauty was spread far and wide, attracting many suitors to her kingdom’s shores, to the point that she attracted both Venus’s jealousy and Ero’s attention. Blessed with fair skin, sweet lips—curving into a soft smile when she became truly happy, a pair of long lashed but starry eyes and silky, ebony hair, Psyche had all intentions to reject every of her suitors, content to settle with simply being who she was comfortable in being—just a lonely mortal princess, surrounded by her gardens, songs and loveliness. But fate had other plans.

She was to fall in love with a God, and a God—with her.

As if that would have made any sense to Psyche if one would have told her that her destiny would be so treacherous and so deeply involved with Eros, the god of love, sex and desire.

But love she did—and it was both naively innocent but deep.

Until, at least—the other gods told her that she had been deceived into trying to kill him.

Part II: “They say a broken heart is the bane of a mortal woman’s soul. But I am a god, with a mortal woman’s soul.”

Its not her husband that tells her that he’s leaving—it’s the handmaidens that do.

Psyche doesn’t know if that’s what hurts, or if that’s just merely what her chest constricting on itself with the very thought of dread that he’s leaving to an unknown place(who the fuck is she kidding)

They are supposed to be gods of love. He of desire, love and sex, and she just a mere mortal, a lesser goddess of love (that was made immortal out of pity).

How ironic is it that they are what is supposed to represent love when they had nothing of that kind of passion left between them? Psyche tells herself that those words are a lie—that Eros left because of something that he had to do. But wasn’t that what all spurned wives told themselves when their loved ones left them for another’s embrace?

She tries not to let it get to her. But there’s only that much a god with a mortal woman’s soul can take.

Part III: “Are you mocking me to my face?”

Psyche hates the fact that news about Eros keeps coming back to her, even if she says that she doesn’t want to hear it.

Its both a lie and a half truth—she loves her husband far too much and far too deeply not to care a smidge about his wellbeing in Mount Phoenix. But its not news of his safety she hears.

Eros and Amaterasu have fallen in love.

Eros had two sons with other women.

She feels it more than hears it—the other gods silent mockery, the sweet but pitying smiles a sore spot to her eyes.

The poor mortal girl that became a god, only to be spurned by her lover.

It doesn’t physically hurt, but something in her chest rips itself apart, tearing into pieces with every news she receives, of every slight she feels with her body from the other’s eyes. Its something that’s part of her power, to feel the hidden intents of others in their gazes, their actions, and their speech.

They stab like sharpened ends into her heart, her mind, her skin—her very soul—until she feels as though there’s nothing left of her body for anyone to emotionally wound.

She’s not that stupid to hate the other goddess that has her husband’s heart—maybe just a twinge or two or more, really. But she’s gotten tired of waiting. Of sitting where she is, of doing nothing but being understanding.

There has to be reason right? There has to be. Maybe she wasn’t enough, or maybe—

Its become more than a want to find that answer—a need that so desperately tears her apart, threatens to engulf her.

Every part of her body aches with phantom pain, her limbs heavy with the emotional burden she balances on her tiny back and shoulders.

It hurts so terribly.

So bitterly—her soul can no longer stand tolerating it. There’s nothing more that she wants to do than to curl up and cry—but she’s long promised herself that she would no longer shed tears from her eyes.

No matter how bitter it is, no matter how terrible it hurts.

She doesn’t tell anyone about her leaving—its supposed to be silent, secretive and utterly inconspicuous, just like how she was supposed to be before the Gods laid their eyes upon her.

She turns up at Eros’ apartment door the next day, eyes lost and drifting, her stare blank but accusing.

“Hello, Eros.”

POWERS: As the Goddess of “Soul”, Psyche is the goddess of the unconscious, with an innate ability to dive into the subconscious of others and understand them. She is able to unlock repressed memories, should they have any. She is good at Reading people, or knowing their hidden intentions (Feels it like sharpened points being pressed against her mind and skin.); As a lesser goddess of beauty, she is also temporarily able to charm others with her beauty. STRENGTHS: Sweet, Kind, Deeply Understanding, Decisively Intelligent WEAKNESSES: Doesn’t open up easily about her own feelings—bottles them up and buries them deep, Can be Cold Hearted after having decided something, Too Sentimental, especially if the person or thing deeply affects her on an emotional level.

#kpop rp #krp #iu #lee jieun #mp; welcome

[newzealandabortion]

The Villainesse Guide: How to get an abortion in New Zealand - Part One

First published on Monday the 15th of February, 2016, this piece comes in at number 5 in the top 30 most read Villainesse stories of 2016.

In 2014, 13,137 women underwent a termination of pregnancy in New Zealand. While abortion rates in NZ have been in steady decline since 2007, let’s just get it out of the way that as long as there is sex (and, sadly, rape) happening between men and women there will be abortions. Until there is such a thing as an easily accessible, 100% failsafe form of contraception there will be abortions. Until we live in an ideal world where every pregnancy is planned and therefore wanted, where every woman has access to the resources and supports required to be able to carry, give birth to and raise a child without fear, isolation or risk of harm then there will be abortions.

Termination of pregnancy is a fact in New Zealand, and yet it remains one of our most controversial social topics; so controversial, in fact, that we as a society seem quite unwilling to talk about it. The experience of abortion itself is often considered too intensely personal for everyday discussion, and the issues surrounding it are so publicly divisive — so highly charged — that it also continues to be a political hot potato that few are willing to handle at policy level.

This tacit “don’t ask don’t tell” position is arguably why New Zealand’s abortion law has remained unchanged for the past 38 years — termination of pregnancy is still a criminal offence, except in the case where two certifying consultants approve the termination on one of ten grounds, which include cases of incest, foetal impairment and risk to a woman’s physical and/or mental health. It’s worth pointing out that rape is not one of these grounds.

The thousands of abortions performed under the current law each year would indicate that this decades-old legislation is not entirely restrictive and does allow for women in Aotearoa to access safe, legal abortion where necessary, however, this is not to say that getting an abortion in NZ is as easy as rolling up to the clinic and asking for one. Any woman who has experienced the wait times, the numerous appointments and, in many cases, the travel involved will tell you that current law throws up a number of procedural hoops and barriers to access.

Further to this, our society’s fingers-in-ears approach to the issue also creates a cultural environment that keeps women too ashamed, uncomfortable and scared to openly discuss experiences of abortion — further feeding the stigma and making the experience more mystifying than it needs to be. The basic facts may be there, but firsthand accounts and advice appear to be sorely missing from public conversation.

And that’s why this guide has been put together — a guide for women who have already made the informed decision to terminate a pregnancy and who are perhaps wanting to know more about what to expect when they’re (unwantedly) expecting. If the system isn’t about to change then let’s at least create some honest dialogue around how to navigate it safely. Let’s broaden the conversation beyond clinical-speak and emotionally charged rhetoric.

This guide has been put together with help from contributors who have had first-hand experience of getting an abortion in NZ. All contributors had first trimester terminations (prior to 12.6 weeks gestation). The New Zealand Abortion Supervisory Committee considers it best practice for abortions to be given at under nine weeks gestation, and around 56% of terminations in New Zealand are performed at under ten weeks gestation. As a reflection of both statistics and contributor experiences, this guide is largely aimed at the majority of women who are seeking first trimester terminations. Second trimester and late term abortions are a reality for some, however, and we hope to explore this topic at a later date.

This guide is also split into two parts: In this first installment we’ll discuss how to go about accessing an abortion. The second part will explore the experience of having a surgical abortion, and will discuss self-care both prior to and following a termination.

Each experience of abortion is different and the emotions attached to your decision are very much your own. This guide does not assume anyone’s situation to be traumatic, nor a walk in the park. It’s just some firsthand, practical advice and info from a group of women who have had an abortion and who have bravely and kindly chosen share their experiences.

So let’s begin…

So you’ve decided to get an abortion

For many women it’s a late period (and then desperately trying to take back every time you ever complained about ruined knickers, cramps or “SURPRISE!” blood flow), for others it’s a “not right” feeling, or a constellation of random symptoms — itching skin, strange sleep patterns, unfamiliar twinges in the lower abdomen. Something made you suspicious enough to buy a pregnancy test, and you’re now looking at two double lines on a flimsy plastic stick. If you’re still unsure about how to proceed then please don’t look to this guide to help make your decision — your choice is your own and should not be influenced by anyone else, including this here random woman on the internet. If you’ve already made the decision to terminate your pregnancy then read on for an overview of getting the process underway.

Getting started

Your first step is to book an appointment with a doctor, as you cannot self-refer to the hospital. This appointment can be with your regular GP, Student Health Services, or Family Planning. Although it’s uncommon, a doctor can refuse to give you a referral based on conscientious objection — if a doctor does refuse a referral then they have a legal obligation to tell you that you are free to go to see another doctor who will be able to arrange this. The website My Decision also provides a list of GPs who are known to be conscientious objectors, so you may want to check in advance.

Family Planning clinics — with the fine work they do — often get really busy and this can mean waiting anywhere from a couple of days to over a week for an appointment. Many do offer a walk-in service on certain days though, so call your local clinic or look online to see when these days are.

At your first appointment the doctor will ask you some questions and possibly get you to take another urine pregnancy test. The questions are fairly standard — just things like when your last period was and if you’ve been pregnant before. Once a positive test is confirmed they’ll then take a cervical swab (or provide you with the tools and instructions to take one yourself, as is becoming increasingly common) to test for STIs, before referring you for bloodwork and ultrasounds. Maternity healthcare is free in New Zealand, even if you are not continuing with the pregnancy. This first appointment and all subsequent appointments, scans and any other related appointments shouldn’t cost you anything, although an Auckland doctor reported that some Auckland radiology providers like Auckland Radiology Group, Ascot and SRG (Specialist Radiology) may charge a fee (sometimes called a ‘part-charge’) for the ultrasound scan. Double-check this with either your referring doctor or directly with the radiology practice to make sure you’re aware of any unexpected costs up front.

For those who live in or near Auckland there are two private clinics. The first is called Auckland Medical Aid Centre (AMAC), while the second is Surgery on Shakespeare, on Auckland’s North Shore. These are the only private abortion providers in the country. Although having the actual procedure in these clinics costs money (more on this later), they do offer a free referral service for NZ residents, though you should double-check this at the time of booking, in case of any policy changes since this article was researched. This service allows you to get an initial consult, bloods, swabs and ultrasound onsite in one half-hour appointment. From there you can either book in with them or ask them to refer you to the public service.

You’d think that finding out about a pregnancy early = getting a termination early, however, as one contributor found, this is not the always the case:

“I found out I was pregnant just before my period was due — I just knew something was up. I literally went to the doctor that day but was told that it was too early to be certain (the test was only showing a very faint positive) and that I had to come back in a week to take another test before they would book me for an ultrasound”.

While there’s no specific law stating that an ultrasound must be performed, the majority of DHBs do insist on the pregnancy being confirmed in this way. This is both to establish gestational age and to rule out the possibility of ectopic pregnancy. Unfortunately a pregnancy only becomes visible on ultrasound at around five to six weeks, so if you’re earlier than this you may have to wait. If your pregnancy test is showing positive (no matter how faintly; modern pregnancy tests almost never display false positives) then do go to a doctor to get the ball rolling. If they deem an ultrasound to be necessary then insist on them making a booking that day, or giving you the details to make the booking yourself, even if it’s for one or two weeks away. Any unnecessary delay at this end may cause further delays down the track.

The fact that we have a safe, free abortion service in New Zealand does not mean that this service is not without its hurdles — the biggest being access. Access (including wait time) in the public system is, frankly, quite shit, with our abortion laws necessitating a rigidly held sequence of appointments, and also appointing only a small number of clinics to service the entire country. Contributors to this story spoke of waiting up to a month to receive their abortion; experiences reflected by a 2009 study that found that New Zealand women waited an average of 25 days between their first contact with a medical professional and the abortion procedure itself.

Abortion.org.nz has a great resource that allows you to locate your nearest abortion provider, and you can also reach them on 0800 ABORTION. As one representative of the site explains, however, for many women access to both ultrasound and abortion means having to travel:

“Living somewhere that doesn't have a provider is really problematic. Recently started services in Tauranga and Dunedin have made a huge difference, but there are still big gaps on the map. For example, women in Whanganui or Palmy [sic] don't have a local provider, and have to travel to Te Mahoe clinic in Wellington.”

*Editor's note (19/01/17): Women living in and around Palmerston North can now access abortion through The Women's Clinic. Medical abortions are performed in Palmerston North, while surgical abortions are referred to Wellington. Women can access The Women's Clinic by self-referring through 0800 ABORTION or by obtaining a referral from their GP.

If your local DHB cannot provide the service, and you’re unable to arrange transport to the nearest provider, then discuss transport with your doctor. Free transportation and accommodation is often available and can be arranged through your DHB social worker. If you need to take time off work or uni then a medical certificate can also be provided — this will NOT mention the reasons for your absence and you are in no way required to give your employer or education provider any details beyond what is stated on the note.

Back to that ultrasound: you are not obligated — legally, morally or otherwise — to view the ultrasound image. Obviously this choice is up to you and ideally the technician should give you the option to view the image or not, however, as one contributor writes, this is not always the case:

“[The technician] just kind of went straight into it and was like ‘there it is!’ like she assumed it was a wanted pregnancy. It was pretty awkward because she started talking about me coming back later to confirm the heartbeat and I had to tell her that no, I wouldn’t be because I was having an abortion.”

If you don’t want to see the ultrasound image then make this clear at the start of your appointment. Many of the contributors to this story did choose to view the image, for reasons ranging from general interest to “feeling like it was the right thing to do.” One contributor recalled this as an emotional experience, however, others reported feeling relief or surprise to see “not much more than a small, dark blur,” as one woman described it.

It’s worth pointing out that all contributors to this story were between five and eight weeks gestation at the time of their ultrasound, and at this early stage there’s very little to discern unless you know what you’re looking for. If you’re further along in pregnancy then the ultrasound may be a more confronting experience so, again, the choice of whether or not to view the image is 100% up to you.

Once the pregnancy and gestation date is confirmed via ultrasound your doctor will be able to book you in for “Appointment One”. This is a consultation with the first of the two certifying consultants, both of whom must independently approve your abortion in order for it to be performed legally. Again, there is a often a waitlist for this appointment — amongst contributors the wait time between the ultrasound and Appointment One ranged from 7-16 days. Wait times may also be affected by public holidays, in particular around the Christmas/New Year period.

Appointment One

The appointment usually takes place at the clinic where the termination itself will be performed and you’ll need to set aside at least half the day (longer if you’re having to travel), as there is a fair bit of waiting around.

Before seeing the first certifying consultant you’ll meet with a nurse, whose role is to gather all the relevant information around your circumstances, including your reasons for wanting a termination. Around 98-99% of all legal terminations in New Zealand are approved on the ground that continuation with the pregnancy would cause “major risk to a woman’s mental wellbeing”, an exception that falls under section 187A of the Crimes Act 1961. This requirement is a major point of contention within our current abortion law, with advocates for change — such as the Abortion Law Reform Association —arguing that it’s hypocritical and demeans women who have made a conscious, informed choice to terminate, by putting them in a position of having to lie about their own mental wellbeing.

If your situation falls under this ground (which, statistically speaking, it’s likely to) then it should be made clear that you do not have to have existing mental health issues to have an abortion approved under this part of the law — the premise is basically that being made to carry, give birth to and potentially raise a child when you don’t want to would cause extreme emotional and mental distress, whether there are existing mental health issues or not.

With that said, do be prepared for some probing questions around both your physical and mental health history, as well as your employment status and current living situation. You will also be asked about your relationship with the other person involved in all this — are you in an ongoing relationship with this person? Is the relationship stable? Would this person be supportive if you chose to continue with the pregnancy? You may be asked to give some details of the “father”, such as his first name, age and occupation.

Contributors said that they found some aspects of this questioning to be unexpected or uncomfortable — one recalls being worried that her partner’s “good” job would somehow exclude her from being eligible for a termination, another felt like she was “seeing all [her] current life failures basically listed out,” an experience she found “fairly demoralising.”

“They’re not really there to chat about what’s going great in your life.”

Where mental health risk is used as grounds for approval (which, again, is in 98% percent of cases) there does appear to be a lurking and unspoken onus put on women to lay bare the ways in which their lives are too shitty to bring a baby into. An allusive question here, a nursely head nod there; as far as the law is concerned this is the maximum level of trust given to a woman in deciding what’s best for her own life.  

Realistically, however, the key, deciding factor in all of this is that the decision to terminate is one a woman has made herself and that she is sure of. The only likely way you would be denied a termination is if one or both of the certifying consultants feel that you are unsure of your decision, or that you are being pressured or coerced into your decision. It’s for this reason that your partner or support person will be asked to remain in the waiting room during both your initial consultation with the nurse and subsequent consultations with the two certifying consultants—your decision must be yours and yours alone.

During this meeting you’ll also be asked if you want to speak with a counsellor. Abortion providers are legally obligated to offer this and, as Dr Margaret Sparrow from ALRANZ told me, at least one clinic — Te Mahoe, In Wellington — will insist that you do. If you are unsure of, or struggling with, your decision then this is a good opportunity to talk it through with an impartial party, however, if you don’t want to, and your abortion provider does not make it a requirement, then you are not obligated to take the offer up.

Following this consultation the nurse will hand over their notes to the first certifying consultant, which they’ll go over while you sit in the waiting room. The meeting with the first certifying consultant is much shorter—they’ll basically just go over the same info and also discuss contraceptive options with you. If you choose to have an Intrauterine Device (IUD) inserted immediately following your abortion then they may give you a script and ask you to pick it up yourself prior to the date of the abortion.

Once the first certifying consultant has signed off on your decision you’ll be given a date for Appointment Two, which encompasses consultation with the second certifying consultant, followed by either the surgical procedure or the first stage of the medical procedure. Te Mahoe (Wellington DHB) and Epsom Day Unit (Auckland DHB) do not allow Appointments One and Two to be completed on the same day, nor on consecutive days — this is a hassle in general but is particularly problematic for women who are needing to travel, as wait times between Appointments One and Two range between two and seven days.

Lyndhurst Clinic (Canterbury DHB) does offer a one-day service for women who are travelling from out-of-town. The aforementioned Auckland Medical Aid Centre also offers a one-day service (to all patients), however, this is a private, non-funded clinic and there’s a fee of $1100. Obviously this fee will be prohibitive to many but for those who can access the money the cost may be worth it in terms of being able to get life back to normal as soon as possible.

Author/Source: Katie May Rusco, Writer at Villainesse

Next up in Part Two: Getting prepared for Appointment Two, the actual procedure, and what happens afterwards.

#storiesweb #abortion #abortion new zealand #reproductive rights #feminism #feminist #lyndhurst clinic

[irrationalfearspodcast-blog]

The Shadows Whisper To Me...

You know what? It's kind of funny. At a certain age, you are expected to stop being scared of certain things. Ten? You're no longer afraid of the dark. Fourteen? You're no longer scared of the dentist. Fifty? Death is just a part of life. I'm now twenty six years old and all of these things still terrify me. I wish I could fit into that societal expectation. I wish I could stop being scared. But it isn't that easy.

I know why I'm scared of the things I'm scared of. When I was a child, the dentist my parents took me to didn't believe in Novocain. I spent a majority of my time in that chair in pain. Just the sound of a high speed drill sends me reeling into an anxiety-ridden memory of bloody gums, sore jaws and tears. Death is an easy one. I'm scared of leaving things I have left undone and the people I love behind. The thought of death itself isn't exactly scary for me. It's all of the things I dreamed of and all of the people that have impacted me, or vice versa, without me to complete or repay that feeling.

The dark, on the other hand. The dark is another entity entirely. And I mean that in the most literal sense I can. Ever since I can remember, the dark has shown me things that I'm not meant to see. That nobody is meant to see. And darkness is the worst of them all. No matter where I am, when I am alone, the darkness speaks to me. "Open your eyes. Look at me. Come here. I have something to show you." But it's not always so simple. Sometimes, the darkness seems to reach into my memories and try to coax me into what I can only assume is danger.

When I was somewhere around eight years old, I remember lying in bed, forced to read a few chapters of a new book for school before bed. My parents always meant the best, and I know that now, but as a kid, it sometimes felt like torture. Every so often, my mother would check on me to make sure I was still reading and offer me words of encouragement if I became side tracked or frustrated. "If you read a few chapters a night, you'll have this book done by the end of the week!" That one seemed to be her favorite. But I didn't care. I didn't want to read the book at all. Let alone finish it.

I was nearing the end of the last chapter for the night and fighting back tossing the book across the room to play Pokémon under the covers. My mother came in to check my progress. Seeing that I was just finishing the last chapter for the night, she kissed me on the forehead, told me how proud she was and that her and Dad were going to call it a night. It was getting late after all. "Don't stay up too late. Remember, tomorrow you have to help me clean-up for your sister's birthday party. So I need you bright and early. I love you."

"I love you too. I'm just going to finish this and go to sleep. Reading makes me tired." She smiled and headed to bed, mostly closing my door on the way out. Knowing that I was scared of the dark, she would leave the hall bathroom light on at night and my door cracked to let some light into my room and ease my fears. But every morning when I woke up, the bathroom light is off. I assumed that at some time in the night, my mother or father uses the bathroom and shuts the light out of habit.

I finished up my chapter and, annoyed, tossed the book on my nightstand, grabbed my Gameboy and worm light and booted up Pokémon to play a little before bed. I must have lost track of time and gotten lost in the game, because after making it off of the Seafoam Islands (Articuno is one of my favorites) the hallway went dark. I saved my game, put my Gameboy in the drawer and rolled over. As I was dozing off, I felt someone sit down next to me on the bed and a hand on my shoulder. "I'm proud of you sweetie. I know how much you would rather be playing games than reading before bed. I made you something to show you just how proud I am."

Mom must have thought I was sleeping. This isn't the first time she's talked to me at night. She usually talks about how happy she is that I'm such a good kid and how she loves having my sister and I around. It always made me feel safe and happy before I dozed off. I always slept good those nights. She stood up and I could feel her looking at me, probably smiling, while I drifted off. "Come see what I made you!" I heard her call softly from down the hall. I rolled over to see my door open and the hallway still dark.

"Mom?" I called out. Not loud enough to wake up my sister, but hopefully loud enough for her to hear down the hall. "Down here, honey. Come see what I made you!" I got out of bed and leaned my head out into the hallway. I could see the bathroom door wide open a little ways down. It was almost pitch black throughout the hall, but I could see my mother just round the corner towards the living room. Seeing her made me feel safer and I jogged down the hall, excited to see my surprise. When I rounded the corner, she was knelt in the middle of the living room with her arms open, like she was asking for a hug.

"Mom, why are all of the lights off? I can't see anything..." I asked her with a twinge of fear in my voice. The living room was much larger than the hallway or my bedroom. I felt like I was in more danger in a more wide open, dark space. "It's okay, sweetie. I'm here. Come over here. I have something to show you." She gestured her hands toward herself, welcoming me into her arms. I slowly walked closer to her. I was confused. Why did she feel the need to give me this surprise so late? Why take me out of bed instead of waiting until the morning? And why was it so dark?

"Come here honey. Don't be scared. It's me. Mommy." I stopped a few feet away. Even at eight years old, I realized how weird that was. I was teased in school for saying "Mommy" and "Daddy" instead of "Mom" and "Dad". Kids are harsh like that. And my parents knew how much that word bothered me. "What's wrong? Come here. Let Mommy show you something." I looked down the hallway towards my bedroom. "Can we wait until tomorrow? I don't want to be tired getting ready for Allie's party..." I started to back up slowly. "Get your ass over here!" She said sternly.

I've never heard my mother angry. That caught me off guard more than anything. She fell forward onto her hands and knees, her joints popping as she crawled towards me. "Come here, you little shit! Let Mommy give you your surprise!" She crawled towards me faster as I ran to the hall bathroom, screaming. I could hear her hands and feet smacking the floor and her heavy, labored breathing in my ear as I flicked on the bathroom light and fell onto the cold tile. The hall fell silent and the only thing I could hear was the door knob to my parent’s room turning and my heart beating wildly in my chest.

Both of my parents came torrenting out of their room after hearing me scream. "Baby, what's wrong? What happened”? My mother asked as she scooped me up into her arms. I tried my best to explain myself through my tears, but couldn't get through. Mom carried me to bed and stayed with me until I fell back asleep. Her presence helped me sleep, but the night was full of nightmares. That's why I'm scared of the dark at twenty six. But why tell you this eighteen years later, right? It was so long ago.

The thing is that last night, my girlfriend fell asleep before me. I was busy working on editing in Photoshop into the late hours of the night. I shut my laptop and kissed her forehead when I came to a good stopping point and rolled over to shut the light before dozing off. I woke up a little while later to her brushing my hair behind my ear with her fingers. She does this to help me fall asleep at night or when I'm having a tough time emotionally, which has been happening more than usual as of late. I smiled and enjoyed the affection as I tried to drift back to sleep.

I felt her breath on my ear as she whispered into it, "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. I have something for you." I rolled over quickly to find her snoring next to me. I could have sworn I closed the bedroom door before we crawled into bed to keep the cats from chewing our cables and flaring up her allergies in her sleep. But it was cracked ever so slightly. And the dark hallway was staring at me from across the room.

#horror #writing #short story #scary story #monsters #reading #ghosts #paranormal #shadow people #horrorcraft #reddit #nosleep