#i feel insane i may have to schedule a call with my therapist again this week lmfao

[backseatsiren]

A Dramatic Day

It’s been awhile since I’ve written here! There are a couple of reasons: first, my life has reached brave new heights of busy - I was promoted to Editor in Chief at work a bit over a year ago, and my responsibilities there obviously take a lot of time. I’m also teaching more courses than usual at Berklee (right now, one section of Film and TV and two of Game Design Principles), and, as usual, I’m training grappling on top of it all. Plus, naturally, the ambulance. I’m hitting my tour hours, and proud to do it, and as pumped as ever to be an EMT in this neighborhood.

I’m also... very, very, VERY slowly *actually writing a book* about all of this. I’ve begun interviewing a few fellow EMTs, mainly volunteers, about what it is we do. Because of how insane my schedule is, it’ll be a very long term project, and I can’t put any pressure to finish soon. But, especially through the pandemic, I’ve felt a desire to document and interview and report on the idea of volunteer emergency medical services in New York City, here in Brooklyn and Queens, and I think other folks might be interested in reading a bit about it.

But I’d like to get back into the practice of writing about calls and concepts and experiences. As always, I’ll respect patients and patient privacy, and will never reveal identifying information or anything inappropriate.

Today was a fairly busy day, but it started with a bit of a dramatic call. We were called to an unknown, and flagged down by a bystander. A man called us over and told us that he saw a man lying on the train tracks (a less-used track, not the subway or commuter rail or anything). He said he regularly feeds a colony of feral cats there, and noticed the gentleman lying down the way.

We thanked him and high tailed it over, yelling out to him (the usual “sir are you ok?”). My more experienced (many, many years in EMS, including at a much higher level of certification) partner took a look at him and said “he might be dead” and began looking forward a pulse. He went for more help (another ambulance was arriving and they needed to be directed over, the physical layout of the space was weird), and he instructed me to look for a pulse. I did, and found nothing. My other partner (a newer EMT, just cleared for CC status, who I also love working with), said “he’s cold to the touch.”

It was raining lightly. The tracks were a little slick, and there was some litter. It’s early may, and the grass had that beautiful sheen on it, that it gets in the rain. Weird things, visual and sense memory things, are coming back as I write about it.

He was lying down on his face on the tracks. I checked for a carotid pulse again and felt nothing. I checked his hands - they were closed and held tight. Rigor Mortis. I checked his arms, his coat, his clothing, careful not to mess with anything, but looking for lividity. He was bleeding from his face, and, on inspection, his face was very clearly badly injured, bruised, and bloated. I was wearing an N95, but even so, you could smell that he was deceased.

I told my more experienced partner that when he arrived with the other crew. We inspected the scene - noting a shovel and some other tools. There was a little encampment nearby - possibly where this man lived. Beer and food in a little shelter.

It certainly looked like foul play was possible. I learned a few minutes later (on my next call) that the cops did start an investigation there.

As one of the other EMTs from the other crew noted, it was “like a movie scene.” Something about the rain and the light, the way the blood pooled, the way the ants crawled around in it... was surreal. It may have been my less experienced partner’s first DOA when they were first on the scene (it wasn’t mine, but it was certainly the first *outdoor* DOA where I’ve been first and had to help establish that). It was my first suspected murder scene.

And yes, it was deeply sad. There’s some initial adrenaline, for me, in every call. There would be more on my other calls today. There is a voice in my head that repeats a lot of the basic instructions and goes through scenarios: “ABCs” (a note to always prioritize airway, breathing, and circulation). I think about what happened in any given situation and what I should do for my patient. I look for threats to everyone’s safety. And when I can breathe and get a clearer picture of what’s going on, that’s when I can start to process things a bit.

We covered him with a clean sheet from the ambulance and did all the things we needed to do. We talked about it a little, after the call. But I always need to think about things for a few hours after, which is what I’m doing here, by writing about it a bit.

I’m a deeply, empathetic person. I feel for my patients. The call I’m about to talk about - the very next call - required that of me in a different way. But in this scenario, I want to first do everything right for the person and situation, and next, be as respectful as humanly possible. This poor man died - was very probably killed - and was left outside in the rain. I don’t know much about his life, and very little about his death. The whole scenario is very sad, and very surreal.

Every time I’ve had a dead patient, it’s stuck with me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget my first, a woman who very probably died of a heart attack or in her sleep, and her son found her. He was mourning. He was on top of the body, hugging her, crying “I’m sorry, mommy,” and there’s... I guess there’s nothing on earth like that. Nothing like that kind of pain. People, as a rule, do not expect to see their loved ones deceased, and when we do, we usually have a ceremony for it.

I’m just a bystander to that. I can do nothing to help the deceased person, and very little for a mourning loved one, besides being a respectful, empathetic human presence. For my deceased patient today, all we could do was establish that he was dead and do the proper things to ensure his remains would be taken care of (and his death investigated).

My next call was very different, but it was heavy in a different way. We got a call for, basically, a suicidal young woman. We arrived, with PD, to her door. The officers assessed things to an extent, but she revealed that she had been traumatized by police in the recent past, and didn’t want any police in her home. I talked with her calmly, and was able to relieve the cops and take this one, with my partner.

We listened to her. She had obviously been through some extreme trauma and needed mental health resources. I won’t reveal any details here, but I had to keep assuring her that I had no handcuffs and wasn’t interested in taking her against her will. She was terrified of being taken somewhere she didn’t want to go, and I basically sat calmly with her and talked to her about her options. Just talking. Just listening.

This is a case, like a patient a couple of years ago, where I’m very happy to take my time. I’m a volunteer, man. I’m not grinding through a shift for miserable pay, as most EMTs are - I’m here because I frankly want to be useful in this manner.

And I’m happy to sit with a person going through emotional hell, because this is what I can help with. I’m five years into being an EMT with RVAC. I do this 2-3 shifts per month, so I’ll never be the fastest, best, EMT in NYC. But I can be the most patient EMT, and I can give plenty of extra time to a person.

I’m not a therapist, and I don’t pretend to be. That’s what I told her - first, that I’m not a cop, I don’t have cuffs, I have no interest in taking her if she’s of sound mind and doesn’t want to go. Then, second, that I’m no doctor, and no therapist, and that I want her to have resources if she needs them.

We talked more, and did more vitals, and she decided she wanted to come to a mental health facility. We explained every step of the process to her, and what she could expect, and what to bring.

Do I wish I was an actual therapist who could help this girl right away? Yeah. Do I wish I had the ability to make mental health policy that provides good, effective, supportive therapy to all human beings who need it? Yeah. Do I wish I could do better for her than an ER with psych specialists? Where she could easily get lost in the cracks or simply never connect with what she truly needs? Yeah.

I can only take her to a place where people are at least trained to assess her and offer her further resources. I can only hope they actually can help, and do so.

I had another call where we did a bit of *psychological first aid* not long after that. A dramatic scene! A young woman fainted at work at a store, and several people were surrounding her and holding her at the scene! Folks were holding her hands and crying.

It looked wild at first glance, but our patient was completely ok - we got her out, had medics assess her completely, and brought her to the ER while assuring her parents that things looked ok. Her mother was extremely upset, and we had a bit of a language barrier, but we were able to assure her and let her know things looked ok, that her child had very promising vitals and EKG readings, and we just needed the ER visit to make sure.

The medics helping us out were INCREDIBLE. They offered a full walkthrough for us of what was going on physiologically with her and gave a very helpful tip on scenes like that - give bystanders little jobs (just simple stuff, like holding the door, or looking for something like a towel) to do! It helps (caring, kind, just want to help) folks feel helpful when they get scared, especially in dramatic-looking situations.

A lot of drama today. A lot of learning. I felt really good about taking charge with my psych patient and helping her to feel safe and able to make her own decision. Im glad we were able to help our young fainting patient. And as much as it’s heavy, I’m glad I was at least on scene today for our first call. I know I can do nothing but confirm obvious death, but, I take some heart in the kind bystander who called for him (the gentleman who feeds cats nearby).

At least someone cared enough to try.

I’m forever grateful for my partners, for the folks who have taken the time to teach me (back when I was VERY green and still, to this day, as I am learning every single shift), and for the patients who trust me to do my best for them. 

I noticed today, this month marks five years of doing this, with my volunteer corps. I can only hope I learn more and become a more effective EMT as I go.

#volunteer ems #ems #nyc

[neighbourskid]

Dave? Dave.

It's been quite a bit since I've written anything here, huh? Well, I guess as it has been for pretty much everyone, life has been kinda strange for a while now. Despite vaccine roll-outs and continually changing safety regulations, there's still a global pandemic on, and everyone is trying to navigate this reality the best they can. For once, we are all, generally speaking, in the same boat now (sure, there are huge differences between countries because capitalism fucking sucks and rich greedy humans are once again proof that things need to change asap, but overall, we all have to deal with this pandemic).

But I don't actually want to talk about the pandemic, it just exists as a frame of what I do wanna talk about.

As I have mentioned before, when the pandemic hit, I was in the last semester of my undergrad studies and writing my Bachelor thesis. Or that's what I was supposed to do, anyway. I did do a lot of reading for it, early in the first lockdown after university closed and we were all attending from home. I was lucky, I had no classes, I only had like three scheduled meetings to check in on progress of the thesis, but otherwise I was free of zoom calls and attempting to attend university digitally. So I read.

After a while, reading became taking a book with me into the sun, glancing at one or two pages, and then just napping for most of the day, and spending my evenings either playing video games or watching some tv show or movie. At some point, I felt like now was the perfect time to rewatch all fifteen seasons of CRIMINAL MINDS, so I did that, instead of writing my thesis. I still occasionally read, but most of the days I just felt exhausted and unmotivated so I stayed in bed and binged my crime show.

As the deadline for the thesis started approaching, and the time I had left fell under a month, a switch in my brain seemed to be activated and, oh, hello, suddenly there was a certain drive there for that thesis again. Which lasted exactly until an email from university dinged into my inbox a few days later, informing me that I would get another month for my thesis, due to the pandemic. And away that motivation and drive went, immediately.

Not much later I had a session with the therapist I was seeing at the time, because of the hormone treatment I had started early that same year. I had talked to him about my concern that I might have ADHD before because I didn't feel like there was anything we needed to talk about related to my transition, so I brought it up again here. I told him how my thesis was going -- or rather, how it wasn't going at all -- and finally, as I told him about some of the issues I experienced while trying to do work for it, he acknowledged that I may indeed have some attention regulation issues. He prescribed me medication to try out, and -- wonder oh wonder -- suddenly I was writing my thesis. I ended up finishing it on time (even though a week before I had a moment of "all of this is garbage, I will never pass, I should start the whole thing from scratch") and got a decent grade for it, too. I've been on those meds since.

Over the last, I don't know how many years, I've always known that there was something a bit wonky about my brain. There were always these things that seemed to come so easy to other people, and try as I might, I just couldn't make them happen. I, presumably, had a lot of neurotypical friends. I also have friends with depression, BPD, anxiety disorders and other neurodivergencies. I have family members with autism. I know my mom suspected I might be on that spectrum as well.

Reading up on many of those things I never felt like any of them described what I was experiencing. There were certain traits, sure, but mostly there was a lack of what I actually did experience in most of them. Even ADHD, when reading about the "required" issues and traits, doing those self-diagnosing questionnaires, I just never saw what I felt represented. And then I started reading about what people with diagnosed ADHD had to say about how they experience things. I ignored the more medical or clinical information, and just looked for people talking about how they navigate their lives with ADHD. And then all of a sudden it was, oh, yeah this, this is relatable. This is where my brain's at.

Suddenly it made sense that caffeine didn't do nothing for me, that a nice, warm cup of coffee put me right to sleep. It made sense how, after only a month, suddenly a well beloved hobby or tv show was suddenly of no interest whatsoever. Staring at the wall for three hours instead of doing a simple task. Drawing in class so that I could pay attention to what is being said. The inability to remember much of my life before 6th grade. Having to bounce my leg so I could read a simple text. Needing to visually break a book down into chapters with colourful post-its to keep me from being overwhelmed by the length of the book. And so many other things. Suddenly, there was a reason for that.

I've always liked doing personality quizzes. Or doing stuff related to my zodiac sign even if I don't believe in astrology per se. Finding out what my Enneagram number is. Or my Myers-Briggs type. Not because I think those things define me or describe me to a T, but because they give me a vocabulary. They give me options. I love answering a bunch of questions and then getting a wall of text telling me This Is Who You Are and then I get to pick out what is accurate and what isn't. It gives me words to describe who I am that I didn't have before.

And it is the same thing with posts or videos of people with ADHD. It gives me a vocabulary for the things I experience and it lets me express those things in a way I wasn't able to before. Before, I was like, doing things that my brain doesn't want to do, feels like running headfirst into a wall because there is no way above, around, or underneath it. There is no door, no ladder, no tunnel, no nothing. There is only running headfirst into it until maybe, hopefully, it cracks. Preferably before my head does. But that is exhausting and most of the time, I prefer to not get through the wall at all, if what it takes is going headfirst through it. Now, I know that what that is, is a dopamine deficiency. The task that needs doing, the task that this wall is, doesn't give my brain enough dopamine. There is no satisfaction, there is nothing to gain from that task, so the brain isn't interested.

One of the things that I recently discovered and helps me a lot in this quest of figuring out how my brain works, is this guy Connor on tiktok, who also has ADHD. His videos are both hilarious and informative. And also incredibly relatable. They might be silly haha funny videos on the dear old internet, but I walk away from most of them going, oh! oh that makes sense, good to know.

He occasionally talks about how ADHD is completely misnamed and how Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder does not actually accurately describe what exactly people with ADHD lack. In one of his videos, he calls it DAVE instead. It's silly, and sounds a bit dumb, but I kinda like it. Dave. Dopamine Attention Variability Executive-Disfunction. Dave. I like Dave.

Y'know, I don't mind having ADHD. Presumably, I've lived with it my whole life so far. And it's annoying as shit some of the time. Especially when things need to get done and they just won't. But I don't mind that, especially now that I know that this is what it is. I've always feared that if I finally do go to a therapist and try to figure out what my brain is up to, they'll just tell me that I'm fine and there's nothing to worry about. And at first, my therapist did say I was psychologically unremarkable. But I guess if you've lived like this your whole life and nobody has really picked up on it, even a therapist doesn't notice (it's called masking, I've learned, thanks Connor).

But knowing is good. Knowing means I can learn things that help. I can take medication when needed. And, looking at the grades I'm currently getting in my graduate studies? Hells yeah, taking that medication and knowing how to deal with certain aspects of my brain helps a lot. It is incredibly funny to me that the best grades I have gotten in my entire academic career have been achieved in my Master's studies during a global pandemic. There is currently an actual real possibility that I may graduate summa cum laude. In my MA. That is insane!

Anyway, I am avoiding tasks by writing this right now. Oh, the irony. I'm gonna try and do those tasks now. Y'all take care. Cheers!

#personal blog #alex talks #adhd #connordewolfe #tiktok

[tbhwhocaresanymore]

Nancy Drew 1x15

I HAVE FINISHED THE NEW NANCY DREW EPISODE AND NOW NEED TO TALK ABOUT IT.

LET’S GO.

Okay I will start with my three disappointments. First, I was hoping when they were going down the “you don’t have first-hand exp with the Aglaeca spirit” path they would bring in Victoria. They did not. WRITERS. WHERE IS MY DYSFUNCTIONAL CLAIRVOYANT. Two, they went to the historical society. They MENTIONED HANNAH GRUEN. And then she just wasn’t there, and I was Let Down. Three, Owen and Nancy had sex.

...

No further comment.

Alright to break this down, I thought this episode was fantastic. Nancy coughing up teeth was so metal (the seaweed was a little gross) and they brought back fan favorite Ace’s dad. Side note, I really love what this show does for sign language, just how it is so casually interwoven. And also Ace and his dad’s shock to see Nick knew it, pointing out how uncommon it is which is kind of sad when you consider it’s one of deaf people’s only means of communication. Maybe now that Karen is you know ARRESTED Ace’s dad whose name I do not know will be our point person on the police since the writers have apparently become allergic to Chief McGinnis.

Speaking of Ace, him and Nick being all dude detective duo this episode was fantastic and I loved it. Pair them up more often. And even though I have no idea if they’ll ever be written romantically or not, Nancy has exponentially more chemistry with Ace than with Owen and I would much rather see them explored. I also want to know if anything has even really changed since the last time Owen and Nancy kissed. He asked her out and she said no, and we didn't see what happened the morning after this time around but she clearly spent the night. Bess is bound to bring it up since she spent the night at Nancy’s house and Nancy wasn’t there, and also Owen is her cousin.

I love the bond between Nancy and her dad, it has grown so much and is so beautiful. Her absolute faith and conviction in his innocence and belief that she will get him out of this, especially when he seems to have given up. *chef’s kiss*

I will say going back to Ace and Nick’s detective work, why didn’t they just go ask Claire in prison? “Hey you know how you murdered a bunch of people? We’ll knock like five years off your I presume lifelong sentence if you tell us if you sold this guy poison.” Like admittedly she didn’t, but they didn’t know that at the time. And CAN WE TALK ABOUT KAREN? As soon as it was revealed it was her, I knew she must have known about Ryan and Lucy’s fight before Nancy gave her the emails. Lucy started drawing away after the Velvet Masque but she and Ryan were already dating when he took her, which is probably something Lucy would have told her best friend. And honestly I feel the poison was a little justified? Like at this point Ryan obviously didn’t kill Lucy because the writers know that’s what we’re expecting, but he was involved somehow and if my best friend had been murdered twenty years ago, the case was still unsolved, and her billionaire ex boyfriend was involved and untouchable? I may have also slipped the friend’s brother an untraceable poison. On that note, I love how the writers brought back the Claire episode. At the time we were like, oh it’s just a fun little killer of the week one-off episode, and now a few weeks later here they are like “PSYCHE. What, you thought everything we did wouldn’t have a meaning? Fools.” And honestly, more power to them. I support this kind of intricate planning it speaks to my obsessive perfectionism.

Everything except the Mr. Drew x Karen romance apparently 😂. Like they really did just include that in the pilot to create more drama between Nancy and her dad didn’t they?

Since it turns out Bess is a founder’s descendant, maybe she will be more interested in Marvin family history, get involved in the historical society and we will see Hannah Gruen more often. Make it happen writers. On the topic of Bess, please tell me someone gets that girl a therapist for her kleptomania before she breaks into a museum. Or a bank. Or a mausoleum. Or something high profile.

I did really want to see the Aglaeca, I was looking forward to seeing how costume and makeup pulled it off, but the blackness spreading through the water was really cool too. And considering this episode ended with Nancy like coughing up seaweed for not paying the toll, maybe we will see the spirit next episode as the gang tries to appease it? Let��s talk about the toll for a minute. Did the Aglaeca want to kill Owen or just like want a blood donation? Why? And if it demands a victim for every favor it grants, I can see why the ritual was not handed down through the generations.

NANCY AND NICK. Oh the moments were sparse but they were quality. At the beginning, watching the fight footage when Nick tensed up and Nancy looked away, and she almost rested her head on his shoulder. His continued concern for her. Nancy’s immediately going to the police station when he texted, compare and contrast with episode 7 when Nick kept calling and she kept ignoring. Nick’s reaction when Nancy was about to drink the “poison”.

CAN WE TALK ABOUT ACE’S LEVEL OF TRUST IN NANCY TO STRAIGHT UP DRINK POSSIBLE POISON. COME ON NOW.

George had a very small role this episode which is not exceedingly unusual, but she was funny to watch, falling for Nick, and a great friend to Nancy. All good things. I just hope she doesn’t fall too hard for Nick, since he and Nancy will most likely eventually find their way back to each other. Maybe she can get together with Ace since I ship him with literally everyone apparently. I also like how they brought back that blood bucket she kicked I was beginning to wonder if they’d forgotten about it.

One last thing guys where tf is Josh? Like he walked into a cabinet thing and vanished, maybe Karen is storing him somewhere. Also HOW DID HE SURVIVE GETTING FUCKING ELECTROCUTED. HOW.

Could we really be solving Lucy’s murder next week in The Haunting of Nancy Drew? We will now discuss possible suspects and where the show could go after this.

The episode summary reads “blah blah using forensics and spn stuff Nancy unravels what happened the night Lucy died.” I am going to discount the Hudsons as suspects since we already know they’re involved via the seance.

Owen Marvin. We know the Marvins have family secrets and shady pasts, he is about the same age as Lucy/Ryan and if there was some sort of love triangle

Holy fuck.

Hear me out.

Okay what if Owen was in love with Lucy, and he somehow broke them up (there was a fight and Lucy broke up with Ryan, but in the emails Ryan calls Lucy the whore, so I’m thinking there was definitely some sort of misunderstanding) and he went to profess his love and she turned him down and he killed her? AND NOW, assuming Nancy is Lucy (and Ryan’s) daughter that’s why Owen is so determinedly romancing her? I have absolutely no proof for this theory and it probably didn’t happen since he is helping them out with the investigation but I like it anyway.

There is Lucy’s mother, who I am now convinced was involved because of her trance thing last episode. You can read my last review for more detail (it’ll be under my Nancy Drew tag) but basically upon seeing crime scene photos of Lucy she started singing the Lucy Sable song and was very focused on how Lucy is in the water. And sure parents go crazy over their children dying, but this feels like a little bit more than that? In the transcripts Lucy said if anything happened to her it would be her mother’s doing, and we know they had some kind of falling out before she died over her dating Ryan.

Katherine Drew 😈. Again no evidence but I like to speculate. She was Lucy’s guidance counselor, it gives Mr. Drew a reason to not try very hard to defend himself, to spare Nancy the pain of her mom being a killer. It would make such great drama. That’s it those are the reasons.

Let’s take a moment to examine some untied threads that could be pulled upon in the solving of this murder. Lucy and Josh are only half-siblings, but we don’t know via which parent. So maybe Lucy’s biological mom/dad could have somehow been involved. There are the emails between her and Ryan following the unknown betrayal (you’re a whore like everyone says). I think this one could be tied to what Candice Weaver (sea queen runner up) mentioned, about how there were rumors Lucy slept with the judges to win the title. Maybe Ryan’s parents, especially his mother, were trying to discredit Lucy or frighten her off? Ryan was scheduled to meet with Lucy the night of her death, maybe he saw something he hasn’t come clean about. Back to Josh, right after Lucy died some developers offered Josh and his mom a LOT of money for their house. We know the Marvins deal in real estate, maybe they were trying to get them out of town to cover up for Owen? We also still don’t know for sure how Lucy died, maybe she wasn’t even stabbed at all. And finally, the crown Nancy’s forensic chemist friend examined proves that a woman was up there on those cliffs (KATHERINE DREW) with Lucy because the hair that wasn’t Lucy’s came from a female.

Assuming we do indeed find out who killed Lucy next episode, here are some things the writers could fill the last six episodes with or use to set up season two/things I really want to happen. The episode where Nancy broke into the morgue Ace mentioned Lucy haunts it, looking for her body. Three kids broke in a few years ago, one died, one went missing, one went insane. It was mentioned once and never picked up again. Since Lucy apparently knew where her body was this whole time, maybe a different spirit haunts the morgue and Lucy just gets the blame cause she’s famous. There is George’s blood bucket, which I admit was brought up this episode, but aside from that has not been touched since episode 4. George and Nick’s relationship, Nancy and Owen’s relationship, the Bess/Lisbeth/Amaya love triangle. Whatever sort of closure Mr. Drew needs from Karen or something idk. George could start to become psychic like her mother. There’s the trial of Mr. Hudson for the sinking of the Bonny Scot, along with the haunted dude who survived giving testimony. Maybe he will be killed and Nancy and Co will have to find another piece of evidence really fast like the urn from the Bonny Scot that Ryan is still hanging on to. MAKE BESS AND GEORGE COUSINS WRITERS. MAKE IT HAPPEN.

Even after Nancy solves Lucy’s murder, I want Lucy to stick around. She is my favorite character on the show. She and Nancy can be roommates, she’d be a really great security system. Some guy tries to break into the house only to be greeted by a drowned girl screaming her head off? I’d drop dead. And from next week’s trailer, towards the end when she says “I am trying to solve your murder!” Is it just me or does she sound a little exasperated? Maybe because Nancy is working her ass off here and all Lucy does is scream at her and make her cough up teeth 😂. Yes I want Lucy to find peace, but I also just really really want her to stick around.

Last thing before I wrap up. I know the show is astronomically different from the books but Nancy traveled in the books. She went to different cities, states, countries. As much as I love the creepy superstition loving town of Horseshoe Bay, I am hoping maybe in the later seasons the show’s location branches out a bit? It probably won't because it’s the CW and they use sets and yada yada yada but a girl can dream. See you next week!

#Nancy Drew #Nancy Drew cw #George Fan #Bess Marvin #Ned Nickerson #Nancy x Nick #Nick x George #Nancy x Owen #Dead Lucy #Lucy Sable #the terror of horseshoe bay #Carson Drew #@ the cw this is one of very few decent shows you have rn don't fuck it up #my theories

[let-it-raines]

Rising from the Ashes (11/?)

Summary: When her husband died, Emma wasn’t sure that she could ever move on. He left her with a broken heart and a baby who was only three-months old. It’s enough to take most people down, to make them not want to keep going, but Emma Swan isn’t most people. She’s stronger than she has any right to be. And after years of heartache, she’s found ways to move on…one of those being in Neal’s best friend, Killian Jones. 

As she’s always known, however, things are more complicated than they ever seem to be. 

Rating: Mature

A/N: This is a happy chapter. I’m just going to flat out say that, haha. I’m gong to be a bit busy with life and be out of town for awhile soon, so I’m posting this chapter a little early! I’ll do the same with Bullseye. Have a good weekend! 💕

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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“Do you want me to take you to work on the way to the airport?”

She looks up from where she’s chopping up chicken for dinner later to see Neal sitting on a barstool fiddling away with his phone, brows creased and lines on his forehead bunching together. It must be a work thing. That’s usually how he looks when it’s about work, especially because she doesn’t think he really has a lot of friends here. Well, he’s got his support group friends and a few guys that he likes to go have drinks with. And she’s pretty sure he’s friends with some people who share the same therapist as him, but she literally has no idea how that would work. It’s easier not to ask too many questions with Neal, though. He’s never been one for sharing too much, and she knows when to prod and when not to.

Most of the time.

So maybe he does have friends. She should probably ask him about his friends, maybe offer to have them over for dinner one day after the holidays.

“Neal,” she asks, tapping her knife against the cutting board until he looks up, his face immediately relaxing, “did you hear me?”

“Were you talking?”

“I was,” she laughs, scooping the chicken into a Tupperware container. “I asked if you want me to take you to work. You can’t use my car because I need it, so I figured you need a ride. Of course, Killian can take you too. You should look into getting a car sometime soon, though. I don’t know how long we’re going to be able to function getting around with our different schedules and your therapy, especially because I go back to work soon. And riding the bus isn’t super convenient, so just a thought.”

Neal hums before sliding his phone in his pocket. “I’ll ride with Killian today. I’ve got therapy after work, but I’ll take the bus there since I know everyone will be busy.”

“If you’re sure. But really, let’s go look for you something after the new year.”

“What happened to my truck? And the bug? We don’t have either of those anymore? They’re not in storage or something?”

“I, uh, sold them,” she admits, picking up the container of chicken and moving to put it in the fridge before she walking back to the island and twisting the knob for the sink so that she can wash her hands. “Your truck was worth money when I needed money, and the bug was not safe for kids. When we got here and I found out I was pregnant with Ada, Killian and I went and found me a mid-sized SUV so that, you know, I wasn’t going to have to go full on minivan.”

He clicks his tongue at that before a soft smile forms on his face. “You are not a minivan type of mom.”

“No, I’m not,” she agrees, wiping her hands off on a towel.” But I am the mom to a mini little munchkin who is currently running into the wall with her bouncer right not. Ada,” she chuckles, walking over to her kid and scooping her out of the bouncer while she gurgles something that is definitely not a word, “you are going to knock things over, my love. You’re going to be a wild child, aren’t you? You definitely can’t start crawling. I know you’re close, but not when you’re a menace.”

“I know I keep asking, but how old is she again?” Neal asks while she hears both Henry and Killian walking around upstairs. Every single person in this house is going to be late to where they’re going today if they don’t hurry. She absolutely cannot wait until her life isn’t chaotic.

That may never happen.

“Seven months.”

“She’s small.”

“She’s on the tinier side, but she’s in normal range,” she sighs as she runs her hand over Ada’s head, brushing her hair back a bit. It’s still thin, but she can see the slightest bit of curl at the ends. “Can you do me a favor and go tell Henry and Killian to hurry up?”

Neal bows his head and mock salutes before he’s turning and quickly running up the stairs while she balances Ada on her hip and moves around to make sure that Henry will be ready to put his coat and shoes on before they get in the car. It’s kind of a crazy day with Liam and Belle coming in from London. Henry’s on Christmas break now, so while she’d think that it’d be easier not having to get him ready for school, she can’t leave him here alone so she’s always wrangling him to go places. He may act mature sometimes, but he’s eight. She’s pretty sure that’s illegal.

She should probably know that.

So she’s got Henry and Ada both home with her, Neal and Killian going to work and therapy and whatever else it is they do, and Liam and Belle coming to stay for a week, even if they’re sleeping in a hotel. It’s all a little insane. Plus she’s finally going back to work in two weeks, and that’s kind of stressing her out since there’s a lot to catch up on and she’s not exactly in love with Ada’s daycare.

And Christmas.

Christmas is also a little stressful with her family spending time here as well, but she’s determined to make it the best year for everyone.

For her too. She doesn’t tend to think she’s selfish, but she’s been through some shit this year. She deserves nice things, even if those nice things are she and Killian getting a quiet, calm morning to themselves.

“Mom,” Henry groans, running down the stairs in a hoodie and what she’s pretty sure are pajama pants, “I can’t find my pants.”

“You know what, kid,” she sighs, walking toward him and messing with his hair to make it look like less of a disaster, “it doesn’t matter. I don’t think your aunt and uncle are going to care if you’re looking a little messy.”

“Are they here yet?” he asks excitedly, his eyes lighting up as he bounces a bit up and down. Henry loves Liam quite possibly more than he loves anyone, and he’s been counting down his arrival since they told him about it.

“They are going to land any minute now.”

“Do you think they brought me presents?”

“I think so, but you absolutely cannot ask for them when we see them. You have to wait.”

“But – ”

“Nope.”

“Mom.”

“Take your pajama covered legs and go eat some of the fruit that’s on the counter.”

“Do we have poptarts?”

“No,” she lies, thinking of the box in the cabinet behind the plates, “we don’t. You’re having fruit.”

Henry groans before she swears he mumbles something about her being too much like Killian in making him eat healthy. It’s a constant battle. He’s a good kid, but sometimes the call for sugar is too much.

She can’t believe he and Killian have been up there this entire time and Killian didn’t manage to get him in a pair of jeans.

Killian and Neal come down the stairs almost simultaneously, Killian trailing just behind Neal while he messes with the cuffs on his shirt underneath his suit jacket. By the time she gets used to having them both in the house, Neal will probably be able to get his own apartment. They haven’t talked about that. Hell, they’re just now talking about him getting a car, but she figures it has to happen eventually once he has some money and is feeling more stable. He can’t live with them forever. She’s all about her modern family or whatever, but she doesn’t want to live with her ex-husband for the next decade. She’s more than happy to help him, to let him get to know Henry, to let her get to know him again, but there’s going to be a point when he can’t live here anymore.

It’s only been four months, and he’s going through a lot. She really doesn’t mind right now. He can take his time.

But they’ll get there. Life has been insane, more than insane really, and she thinks everything is beginning to settle down again. She and Killian are together again, and even though it’s only been twelve days and she’s still a little hurt over everything, it’s going well. They’re sleeping in the same room again, sleeping together again, but mostly they’re talking. They’ve most likely talked until their faces turned blue, sometimes arguing over what’s been going on, but she’ll take the arguments over the nothing any day of the week.

She’s had two big loves in her life, and neither of them have been perfect. Neal, even with all of their issues that she’s coming to understand now, was someone who she really did love. She loved him, thought the world of him, but they’re not going to work out. It probably would have happened eventually, even without the tragedy of their story. She just didn’t realize it at the time. He’s not a bad guy, not really, but he’s not right for her. Maybe at the time but not anymore. She thinks what they have going for them, this friendship of sorts, is going to be wonderful.

Killian’s not without his issues as well, but she doesn’t like to think of it as a comparison. That’s what everyone else has been doing to her. They’ve made it a comparison, a contest between the two of them, and it’s not that. It’s simply that for who she is, for how she’s grown through the absolute shitstorm that has been parts of her life, Killian matches up well with her. He’s been her best friend for a long time, and he understands her. He understands when she needs comforting and when she needs to be left alone. He understands how she ticks, how she thinks about things. He understands her.

She understands him.

They’re far from perfect, but she loves him. Honestly and truly she does. Even when he’s being a dumbass and thinking that she needed time to think, she loves him. She understands why he did that now that they’ve talked through things, now that she’s had time to think without her heart being broken. Killian feels things more deeply than most people she knows, maybe more than anybody she knows, and even when he tries to disguise it, his emotions are always right there on his sleeve. Sometimes she’s the only one allowed to see them.

She’s thankful for that.

They’re good, the two of them, and the constant constriction of her heart being squeezed in by her ribcage is getting back to the normal as the two of them get back to them and to being a team while raising their children.

Her life hasn’t been easy, but she’s happy.

She’s finally happy again.

And he looks damn good in that blue suit. That doesn’t even matter, but she’s allowed to point these things out. She’s allowed to appreciate him. She should.

“I am running so late,” Killian mumbles rushing right by her and into the kitchen to grab a travel mug of coffee from the pot Neal made. “Neal, can you go crank up the car? It’s going to take awhile to defrost.”

“Sure thing,” Neal nods, ruffling Henry’s hair, which is obviously something he’s never going to learn not to do with Henry, and waving to she and Ada who gurgles right back at him before he’s grabbing his coat and heading outside.

“Bye, Henry,” Killian quickly hums, twisting his mug’s top on and raising his hand so Henry can give him a high five, before he’s walking over to her, kissing Ada’s head, and then mumbling about being late again as he pulls on his coat and walks out the door, the wood slamming behind him.

She knows that being late is his biggest pet peeve and that it stresses him, but she kind of can’t believe he just forgot to tell her goodbye. It’s not that big of a deal, but if he’s that frazzled now, he’s going to be a mess for the rest of the day, even knowing that Liam is going to be here waiting for him when he gets home. Or that might be part of the reason he’s frazzled. Liam is his best friend, and she knows that he’s anxious to see him. He’s been Killian’s support system through all of this like David has been hers.

They’ve got some good older brothers.

“You do too,” she says out loud to Ada, stepping out of the kitchen and into the hallway so that she can lock the front door behind Killian only for the door to swing open and for Killian to come jogging back into the house and quickly tugs her into a kiss, capturing her lips with the intensity of a man starved even if they’re simply parting ways for a few hours. She’s not going to complain. She loves him and loves that they’re back to this.

She loves that he remembered even if it’s the smallest thing and he’s running late.

She loves how he kisses her.

“I love you,” he whispers in her ear, nuzzling her neck a bit while he places a kiss just below her lobe. She thinks she might melt every time he does that. And when he playfully squeezes her ass like he’s doing right now. She could melt at that too. “Your ass looks fantastic in these jeans, by the way. I’d like to wax a little more poetic on that later, but I’ve got to go to work.”

She snickers and turns her head to quickly brush her lips over his two times. “I love you, and I am willing to take you up on that offer later if I can get you away from your brother. Your ass looks good in your pants too.”

“Good,” he smiles, leaning back before dipping his head down to kiss Ada’s forehead. “Goodbye, my little love. Daddy will be home later.”

He kisses her cheek again before walking out the door, slamming it closed behind him as he most likely runs to the car. She’s just glad it’s not snowing. He’d lose his mind or something trying to drive through it.

“Alright, Henry,” she yells as she turns the lock, “we’re leaving for the airport in fifteen minutes whether you have that food in your stomach or not.”

-/-

-/-

“Are you nervous, lad?” Killian asks Henry as the plane begins to taxi so that they can take off.

“No. Why would I be scared of a plane?”

“Some people are. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Look at your mum. She’s positively green.”

“That’s not funny,” she groans while her stomach flips again and again, the nausea threating to boil over. She’s been feeling it for two or three days now, but she hasn’t said anything to Killian. She should have, but she’s been a little scared that it was just a bug or something and not what she absolutely hopes that it is after trying for so long. “I’m really not scared.”

“She’s not green,” Henry points out. “How would she turn green?”

“Sometimes when someone is green, it means that they’re sick,” Killian explains to Henry while he places his hand on her leg, squeezing a bit before leaving it there, the slight weight a comfort. “It’s kind of like when you were sick right before school finished and your skin was a bit of a different color.”

Henry hums next to her before leaning over as much as he can with his seatbelt holding him back to look at her face, his eyes scanning hers closely while she presses her lips together in a smile, attempting to look as normal as possible when her body is still reeling.

“I think you look pretty, Momma.”

“Thank you, baby.”

“But your hair does look funny.”

She sniffles at that, trying not to let her laugh get too loud, while Killian can barely contain himself next to her. She loves Henry with everything in her, but damn it, kids tell it like it is. Last week he told Killian that his ears looked like elf ears, and they’d turned as red as her lipstick. He does have elf ears, but she finds them rather charming. Henry, not so much. And now he apparently is taking issue with her hair. She knows that it’s not looking fantastic with the natural curls poking out of her ponytail, but she’s miserable and on an eight-hour plane ride.

This is going to be fantastic.

“Sit back and watch us fly in the air, you crazy kid.”

“Am I going to fly out of my seat?”

“If you take your seatbelt off when you’re not supposed to.”

She rolls her eyes at Killian before reaching to cover her hand over his, resting it on the warmth before she holds her free hand out to hold Henry’s, letting him immediately intertwine his fingers with hers. “You won’t really. It’s just like being in a car except that when the pilot says it’s okay, we can get up to stretch our legs or go to the bathroom.”

“I can’t do that in the car.”

“Exactly,” she laughs, squeezing his hand as the engine starts getting louder and the pavement outside blurs by more quickly. She can’t look, not without throwing up, so she has to focus on chewing her gum and on the seat in front of her.

“Watch as we take off, Henry,” Killian starts, taking over for her and leaning over her body to point out the window. “We’re about to be flying.”

It’s possibly the worst take off of any flight she’s ever been on, but she’s sure that no one else on the plane notices. She, however, is about two seconds from vomiting the entire time, but she doesn’t have anywhere to vomit. None of their seats have any bags, and it’s not like she can get up. It’s going to be minutes before even the flight attendants start moving around.

She’s going to throw up on her boyfriend. That’s what’s going to happen. She’s going to throw up on her boyfriend. Henry isn’t an option, and her feet aren’t an option either. This is the only pair of shoes that she has that are not in her luggage down below.

“Killian,” she whispers, trying to push down the nausea and the rolling waves in her stomach. Her intestines very well may be twisting together and then separating. It’s a lot.

“Yeah, love?”

“I need,” she gulps, trying not to move her lips or her body, “something to throw up in.”

She can’t see his eyes blow wide, but she knows that the blue is frantic and that he’s taken aback. She can imagine it exactly as it happens, can practically hear the opening and closing of his mouth, but she will not move.

She can’t.

“Emma, there’s not anything here unless you want to vomit in Henry’s bag of pretzels.”

She doesn’t, but she has to.

The next ten minutes of her life are some of the most painful, gross, and overall embarrassing minutes of her life. She’s grossed out Henry, who may as well be pressed into the window so hard that he’s going to fall out of the plane, and she’s grossed out every person around them and likely the flight attendants who bring her bags and the trashcan once they realize what’s happening. The only person who isn’t disgusted by her is Killian, and she knows that’s only because he is so freaking worried that he doesn’t have time to think about all of this.

It’d probably be ease some of his fears if she told him she thinks she’s pregnant, but then that would create a whole other host of problems. And she’s not going to tell her boyfriend she’s pregnant on a plane full of strangers who are watching her vomit while her son sits next to her. She doesn’t want Henry to know until she’s sure and until she’s sure that the baby will be okay. She has hope, but so does every mom.

Now is not the time. She’ll tell Killian when they get to their hotel. They’re in the same room as Henry, but she’ll figure it out.

“Did you pack one of those mini bottles of mouthwash?” she asks him when they’ve been in the air for thirty minutes and with the help of some severally underpaid attendants they’ve gotten all of her bags thrown away and everything feeling a bit more normal again.

“Aye, in my bag. Do you need it?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you done throwing up, Momma?”

“I hope so,” she tells Henry, twisting her head to the side to tightly smile at Henry while Killian gets up to get his bag, opening it up in the aisle to find his mouthwash. “I think my body just didn’t react well to flying. I must not have the same flying superpowers that you and Daddy have.”

“Must not. Can I get more pretzels?”

Eight agonizing hours later they’ve landed, and she feels about as clammy and gross as humanly possible, so after changing clothes, washing her face in the bathroom, and then going through customs, they’re greeted by the smiling faces of Liam and Belle who are holding up a poster with colorful words spelling out “Young Master Henry.” It’s the most ridiculous thing in the world, but Liam and Killian call him that enough that it’s a thing now.

“Uncle Liam,” Henry squeals, running the few feet toward Liam with his Spiderman backpack bouncing on his back until he’s literally jumping into Liam’s arms and being lifted up in the air to be spun around.

“Master Henry,” Liam starts, using an extra pompous accent to talk to Henry while he spins him around. “I’m so glad to see that you’ve traveled her safely in your flying car. Your next ride awaits you outside.”

“It’s a plane. It’s better than a car because you can pee in it.”

Liam barks out a laugh at that while Belle tries to stifle hers, and she can do nothing back shake her head back and forth while she envelops Belle in a hug, wrapping her arms around her waist for a minute.

“Hi, darling,” Belle greets, her accent mixing in with everyone else here. This is her first time out of the country, and it’s a little overwhelming. The constant nausea doesn’t help. But she’s excited to be here. Plus they have Liam and Belle to help guide them. And the trip isn’t really about sightseeing. It’s about seeing family. “How was the flight?”

“It was a flight,” she says dryly, pulling back and smiling up at her, kind of wishing that her hair was as shiny and straight as the deep brown of Belle’s hair.  “How are you?”

“I’m just perfect, but I need to hug my best friend, Henry.”

“Avery is my best friend,” Henry corrects, but Liam hands him off to Belle anyways. She’s not tall, and Henry’s almost seven-year-old frame overwhelms her.

“You can have more than one,” Liam laughs before he’s wrapping her in a hug, his body overwhelming her as he cups the back of her head. He hugs just like David. It must be a big brother thing. Maybe Henry will do that with his sibling. They need to buy a test. “Hello, little birdie.”

“Hi, big Jones.”

“Oi, Swan,” Killian scoffs from behind her, “you cannot call him that.”

“So insecure in his manhood, the little one,” Liam jokes, kissing the top of her head before pulling back. “Alright, my brood, Belle and I are going to take you out to dinner and then to the flat, okay?”

“Actually, can you take us home or to the hotel?” Killian suggests, placing his hand on the small of her back so that she can feel the heat and sureness of him. “Emma had a bit of a rough flight. She might have a bit of a bug, so I think she may want to shower.”

“You alright, lass?” Liam asks, his brows raising in a way that’s so much like Killian that she’ll never quite be over it.

“I’m fine,” she promises, resting her head on Killian’s shoulder. “Let’s just get takeout and go to your apartment, okay?”

She showers the moment they get back to the apartment… or flat as Liam corrects, leaving everyone else to eat their tai food, and even as the nausea persists, she feels a thousand times better than she did on the plane. Seriously. She’s not sure if she’s ever felt that gross, even when she was pregnant with Henry. But she was younger then and maybe things are just different. Plus she wasn’t on a plane then.

She’s not eating the tai food, though. That’s not happening at all.

There’s a knock on the bathroom door, and she walks over to twist the lock, pulling the door open and looking to see Killian standing outside with his hand still resting on the frame.

“Hi.”

“Are you creeping on me in the bathroom for a reason, babe?”

He hums before opening the door a bit and stepping inside, shutting them into the small room that’s still filled with steam on the mirror. She hasn’t looked at herself, but she imagines that her hair is tangled and that she’s got mascara smudged all down her cheeks. She really doesn’t care.

“I’m simply checking on you.” He takes a step forward and places his hands on her hips, his thumbs reaching up under her t-shirt to rub into the skin. It’s soothing, and with how exhausted she is, it could make her fall asleep. Instead she leans into Killian and buries her face in his shoulder, knowing that it’s going to get stained from her face. At least his shirt is black. “Are you okay? Feeling better?”

“A little.”

He hums again before one of his hands moves from her hip up her back, the warmth of his body trickling against every inch of her skin, enveloping her in a comfort she hasn’t felt all day. It only gets better when she feels his mouth against her neck, a contrast of the softness of his lips and the slight harshness of his beard.

“Are you pregnant?”

She doesn’t know why she’s taken aback by it, but she is. Of course Killian knows. How could he not? He knows more about pregnancy than she does. He’s been looking everything up since they decided to officially start trying last year. It’s been a bit rough, which is probably why she’s a little hesitant to take a test. She knows. There’s not much doubt, but it’s still terrifying. The last time she told someone she was pregnant, it didn’t go over well. And then Neal died and…the last time she had a baby with someone, it wasn’t great, and even though she trusts Killian, even though they’ve been actively trying for this, she’s still scared that maybe it’ll be a repeat of everything in the past. It’s an unreasonable, unrealistic fear, but it’s there.

She’d love this kid as much as she loves Henry regardless.

She wants this kid so damn badly.

“I don’t know.”

“But you think so?” he asks, his lips so close to her ear that she can feel the vibrations of every word.

“I have to be,” she admits, the weight on her shoulders lightening a bit. “I’m late, I’m tired, I can’t stop vomiting, and my boobs feel like freaking water balloons.”

He doesn’t say anything for far too long, the seconds ticking by as he continues to rub up and down her back while she simply holds onto him, her anchor when she feels like everything can be taken away by a gust of wind.

“So it’s not a stomach bug?”

“Not a stomach bug. I have to take a test, but I’d bet the house on it.”

“I’d take that bet.” He pulls his head away from her neck and moves his hands, all of his warmth leaving until he’s cupping her cheeks and running his thumbs under her eyes while she looks up at him, the blue of his eyes watery and still ridiculously beautiful. “We made a baby.”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “we did.”

“I love you and the bug.”

“The bug?” she asks, tilting her head up and pressing up on her toes while her arms move up his sides to finally land around his neck.

“Well, I don’t know. It’s kind of cute. It’s not a stomach bug like everyone in the den thinks or everyone on the plane, but we could still call it a bug.”

“So you’re equating this almost sure thing of a baby, your own flesh and blood, to a stomach bug?”

“Aye, I’m a wonderful father.”

She can’t help herself to lean forward and quickly brush her lips over his, featherlight touches that only make her feel better about all of this. He’s happy. He’s happy that this is happening. She can see it in the smile on his face and hear it in his voice.

She’s happy too.

“That you already are,” she promises, thinking of Henry and how Killian has been a dad for much longer than their little bug has been into existence. “And I love you too. Now let’s go lie to your family and our kid about all of this and act like we were totally just making out in the bathroom or something.”

He moves his brows across his forehead until one of them lands somewhere near his hairline while his entire face crinkles in a smirk. “Or we could actually make out, and it’ll only be half a lie.”

“I’ve been vomiting all day.”

“We’ll strive to make out tomorrow.”

-/-

-/-

“Momma,” Henry whines, his feet bouncing up and down as she tries to keep him still while also holding Ada on her hip. She should have brought in the bjorn, but she honestly didn’t think they’d be standing her for this long, especially since they did not leave the house in fifteen minutes.

It was more like thirty.

Forty.

“Where are they?”

“They are almost here. You have to be patient.”

“I am, but you said that they would be here when I got here.”

She sighs, frustration beginning to build up. She knows that Henry’s excited and anxious to see Liam and Belle. It’s all he’s been talking about for a week, but damn has he forgotten all of his manners and his patience. She should have brought him one of his books to read.

“Do you remember when we went to London to visit them?”

“Yeah, you threw up on the plane. That was funny.”

“You’re gross,” she laughs, tugging him into her side while Ada grabs at her sweater just over her boobs. “But do you remember how long it took for those people to check our bags while they asked us questions?”

“It took forever.”

“It did, and that’s what Liam and Belle are doing right now.”

“Ada is lucky that she didn’t have to wait there with us.”

Technically she did, but that’s a story for another time.

“You hear that, Ada bug? Your brother is looking out for you by telling you not to go through customs. I bet he’ll hold your hand when you get to fly for the first time too.”

She lets out this sound that is somewhere between a gurgle, a laugh, and a scream, and Emma can do nothing but lift her and adjust her over her shoulder so that she immediately starts yanking on her hair despite it being pulled up.

“When is Ada going to fly?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we’ll go on a vacation next summer after you get out of school.”

“Where?”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Australia.”

“What?” she laughs, looking down at Henry as his eyes still glance out amongst the crowd, looking for Liam. He loves Belle, but she knows that he’s looking for Liam. If she and Killian were put up against Liam for who Henry loves the most, they wouldn’t have a chance. And she likes to think she’s got it good with her kid.

“Australia. I want to see the giant bugs.”

“Ask your daddy about that one, kid,” she sighs. “I am not going somewhere to see giant bugs unless it’s the zoo and they’re in a case.”

“They don’t hurt, unless you get bit by the poisonous ones.”

“Did we learn this from TV or a book?”

“National Geographic. I got thirsty last night and went downstairs to get some water and Dad was up talking on the phone.”

“At what time?”

“I don’t know, but he hung up and we watched a show about Australia.”

She’s about to say something about how he doesn’t need to be watching TV past bedtime, but then she sees a familiar crop of curly dark hair and startlingly familiar blue eyes.

“I think I see – ”

“Uncle Liam,” he shouts, running out from under her arm and the few feet until he’s jumping into Liam’s arms, the man only stumbling back a bit as he catches him while also balancing everything he was holding. It’s been since Ada’s birth since they’ve seen each other, and that’s far too long for how much they love each other.

She can’t wait to see Killian tackle Liam later. Maybe not literally, but it’ll happen.

“Alright, munchkin,” she sighs to Ada who is still tugging at her hair, eyes moving around at all of the excitement, “let’s go see the people who are about to smother you with love.”

“Oh, I’m so happy to see you,” Belle laughs, quickly walking past Liam and Henry to get to her, wrapping her in a side hug so that she doesn’t physically smother Ada. “And she’s so big, oh my goodness. You’re not supposed to be this big.”

“You want to let your aunt Belle hold you?” she asks Ada, brushing back her hair while she tries to judge how wary Ada is of her.

“I promise I don’t bite, darling,” Belle whispers, running her fingers up and down Ada’s arm until she starts giggling, her laugh like a little scream. Emma takes that as a good sign as she hands Ada over and let’s Belle hold her for a moment.

As long as laughter is the only screaming that’s happening, they’re good to go.

“Hi,” she waves to Liam.

“One moment, Birdie, and I’ll hug you. I’ve got to put this strapping young lad down first.”

“I thought you said I was cool.”

“Strapping is a cooler way to say cool.”

“Cool.”

If they say cool one more time, they’re going to be Jake Peralta.

But Liam puts Henry down, his hair all askew from being moved around, and then he wraps her in one of the tights hugs she’s ever felt, cupping her head to pull her in closer.

He’s so much like David it’s ridiculous.

“I’m so happy to see you and to see that smile on your face. I’m sorry that my brother is an idiot who thought that he was doing the right thing by stepping away from you. Most dumbass decision he’s ever made.”

She nods into his chest before pulling back and smiling at him even as water pools in her eyes. She loves Liam a hell of a lot too. “I completely agree, but I’m sure you have plans to chew his head off later now that you can see him in person.”

“I have an itemized list.”

“Of course you do.”

It’s a bit of a mess getting everyone in the car, especially with luggage and kids and the busyness of the airport during the holiday season, but eventually everyone is strapped in and she’s driving out of the congestion and back to the house, only stopping to let Liam and Belle get some coffee and something to eat that’s not out of the kitchen at home. They’re going to be subjected to she and Killian cooking for an entire week, and while she thinks they’re pretty good, she doesn’t want to force others into it completely. By the time they get home, it’s already past lunchtime, so while Liam and Belle settle down in the living room with Henry as she’s sure he bugs them about presents, she takes Ada upstairs and undresses so she can feed her.

“I’m exhausted, bug,” she sighs, leaning back against the bed but making sure not to move too much as Ada looks up at her, the green in her eyes shining through as she looks up at her. “You’re exhausting, your brother is exhausting, and we have so many people in this house that I have a feeling that I’m going to be faking some of your feedings just so I can leave the room.”

Ada doesn’t say anything back, obviously, so Emma continues to brush her tufts of hair back while she looks over toward the window, midday light shining through the window over the seat. She needs to fix those pillows up.

“I love our family. I do. But your mommy needs a break. I think Daddy and I need to go on vacation together. How do you feel about spending your first Christmas without your parents?” Ada bites down, hard, and she nearly cries at the pain that it causes her. Breastfeeding is bonding and a way to help provide for you child, but damn, isn’t there anything about childbirth that’s not painful? “You’re lucky you’re cute, kid. I mean, I’m a little biased, but I think you’re one of the two cutest kids in the world. I’d never leave you for Christmas either. We’re going to have a good one. All of our family is going to be here, and you’re going to get lots of gifts that you won’t fully get.”

Honestly, with Henry she was alone all of the time, so the full on conversations were pretty frequent. They happened every day. She’d tell him about groceries that needed to be bought or about her disagreements with a plot in a television show. She’d tell him when she missed Neal or when she was having a really good day. She told Henry everything, and even though she’s not always alone with Ada now, she does the same thing. She knows that it helps their development, but it comforts her to be able to talk to this little human being who relies on her for life and comfort and love. She obviously doesn’t remember her life as a baby, but she knows that she didn’t get this kind of love.

All she wants in life is for her kids to get all of the love she didn’t.

There’s a knock on their door, and after she tells whoever it is that she’s breastfeeding but that they can come in, Belle wanders in with a timid smile on her face before she comes to sit on the bed, the mattress only moving the slightest bit underneath her.

“She is so much more precious in person, Emma.”

“Thank you. I hate that we can’t see each other more often.”

“I know, I know,” Belle sighs, reaching over to tap her fingers against Ada’s arm, Ada’s eyes moving to look for Belle. “If we could somehow relocate my family or yours, that would be just wonderful. I miss you all far too much.”

“The same here. Did you see Henry at the airport? Killian’s going to be so much worse when he gets home. I’m surprised he isn’t coming home on his lunchbreak to see you guys.” “That’s because he’ll need more than an hour to talk to Liam. I’ve never seen siblings that close.”

“They’re definitely special, but enough about then. Tell me what’s new with you. I’m so sorry I’ve lost touch over the past few weeks. It’s been – ”

“Insane,” Belle finishes for her. “Your life has been insane. I can’t even imagine. Liam has told me a little that Killian has said, and I am so dang impressed by you and your strength.”

Her cheeks flush. She’s never been great at accepting compliments, but especially when she doesn’t feel like she deserves it.

“It’s been hard. I honestly think the emotional turmoil has been about the same as when I was told Neal died. And it doesn’t help that both times I’ve been through things like this, I’m still extra hormonal from giving birth. I think – if Killian hadn’t gotten his head out of his ass and started talking to me when he did, I might have really gone crazy.”

“I still can’t believe he tried to break up with you.”

“I can. It’s Killian. He’s this honorable man who doesn’t believe that he deserves the good things that happen to him. He puts everyone above himself, even when his plans backfire. And just the…the guilt has been hard on both of us.”

“I’m sorry,” Belle tells her, reaching her hand over to squeeze Emma’s shoulder while Ada finishes eating, a little burp emanating from her as Emma sits her up on her stomach. “But I’m glad you’re a bit better now, especially in time for the holidays. I’m so excited to be here with you.”

“Me too. Now seriously, lady. Tell me about your life. How’s the library now that you guys got that donation?”

“It’s good. I mean, it’s wonderful. I love my job, even with all of the ridiculous people who come in. But I’m in the process of starting a new after school care reading program. It’s a bit much because of all the paperwork that I have to do, but it’s coming along.”

She twists from her spot and presses her lips into a smile while she plops Ada down in between the two of them. “I’m, like, ninety percent sure that you’re secretly a superhero.”

“Well, I do own a pair of glasses that obviously hide my secret identity.”

“I knew it,” she laughs, adjusting her sweater and tugging up her jeans. “Seriously, though, I’m proud of you. You and Liam are going to take over London…or at least increase the literacy rates and then fix all of issues with shipping or whatever logistics Liam does. I don’t ask because it’s so damn boring when he gets into it.”

“Trust me, I know.”

She and Belle hide away in her room for the next hour, catching up on absolutely everything she can think of. They’re in the middle of talking about the new Red Rising series when there’s a loud bang downstairs that has both of them raising their eyebrows. With a shake of her head, she scoops Ada up and walks downstairs with Belle to find Liam and Henry sweeping up glass from a lamp that they knocked over when they were very obviously building a pillow fort in the living room.

“You are forty three years old, babe.”

“You’re never too old for a pillow fort.”

Liam’s right. You’re not. Well, they all are except for Henry, but they do have Henry and Ada who are definitely not too old for a pillow fort. So even though she knows that it’ll drive Killian absolutely up the wall when he gets home to see their carefully cleaned (all Killian as he prepped for his family to fly in) living room filled with all of the blankets and pillows in the house, they spend their day making the best fort possible. Henry loves it and hams it up for Liam, and she feels this absolute lightness in her heart that she hasn’t felt in weeks.

Things are so damn good now.

They get even better when Killian walks in the door after work. She can’t even greet him before Henry is running up to him and tackling him, telling him all about how he just has to see the fort they’ve been building and how it even has snacks.

(She has no idea when he got snacks to hide in there.)

Killian flashes her a confused smile, his brow raised, and she smiles at him as she watches him walk the few feet through the archway and into the living room where Liam is casually sitting propped up against the couch with this smirk on his face that is obviously a part of the Jones DNA. She both hopes and doesn’t hope that Ada is going to develop one.

“Hello, little brother.”

“It’s younger, you ponce,” Killian laughs, walking toward Liam and grabbing his hand to pull him up off the ground so that they can wrap their arms around each other in what has to be the tightest embrace she’s ever seen.

She can feel the tears stinging behind her eyes, a sob catching in her throat as she furiously blinks to try to keep herself together. She knows that Belle is doing the same thing. Liam isn’t without his own set of issues. He’s far too protective and a little judgmental at times, but it’s because he loves Killian so damn much. They’ve been through so much together, fought through so much, and even though she knows that she and David have a close bond, it’s nothing like this.

All she wants is for Killian to be happy, and she’s glad that he is.

When they pull back from each other, Killian immediately moves to hug Belle, smothering her a little less, before he’s coming over to greet she and Ada. It’s so different than this morning and yet so similar as Killian slants his lips over hers in a kiss that’s a bit deeper than their usual greeting.

Not that she’s complaining.

The rest of the evening the house is full of the gentle roar of conversation and of laughter as everyone catches up and entertains all of Henry’s stories and suggestions. He’s definitely loving all of the attention, and after Neal texts to say that he’s going out to dinner with one of his support group friends, they all decide that a formal dinner at the dining room table is unnecessary when they can have pizza under Henry’s magnificent fort with the dull glow of Christmas lights reflecting through the sheets.

Even after Liam and Belle excuse themselves early to go to their hotel, taking a cab instead of having one of them drive them there, the four of them stay under the fort. It’s going to kill Killian’s back, but she doesn’t think he minds as he reads one of the Nancy Drew books to Henry. She’s not sure which one in the series they’re on now, but Henry is absolutely in love with them and is always trying to figure out who committed the crime before they’re even a quarter of the way into the story. She knows that they’re a little on the mature side, but Killian always skims ahead to make sure things are okay first.

Ada lets out a loud gurgle when Killian is in the middle of a sentence, and it stuns them into silence as she stretches out over Emma to claw at Killian’s face, grabbing onto his lips and tugging.

“Ada, my love, I know Daddy talks a lot, but I don’t think that’s any reason for you to try to rip my lips off.”

She giggles at that, as if she knows what Killian is saying, and until Henry falls asleep, Killian multitasks by trying to read to one kid while the other adamantly refuses to let him. It’s complicated, but it’s nothing they’re not used to.

She’s glad for it.

“I don’t want to move him,” she whispers to Killian as Henry sleeps on the pillows next to her, his body curled into a small ball while she’s wrapped around Killian’s waist with her right leg stuck between his thighs, Ada sleeping on top of his chest.

“He’s eight. Sleeping on the floor won’t kill him, so I say that we let him.”

“Do we have to sleep here with him?”

Killian hums next to her, and she can feel his arm move underneath her head before his hand starts tugging on her hair. “I won’t be able to move until the new year, so most likely not. Plus, we’ve got to get our little lady into her crib.”

“True.” She cranes her neck up to quickly brush her lips against his jaw. “Are you happy that Liam and Belle are here?”

“Beyond. I don’t – I don’t have the words. I feel like we’re finally getting back on track.”

“You still feel like that even though we’re going to have to clean this up in the morning?”

“Swan, believe it or not, I’m beyond thrilled that there’s a mess in this living room. You and Henry and all of us have so much going on right now and in the future and I…it’s nice to have little moments like this.”

She reaches up to caress his face, running her fingers over his beard as the familiar tears sting behind her eyes. She thinks she can see them in Killian’s as well, but it’s difficult to tell in the darkness.

“I love you, you old sap.”

“And I you.”

#rising from the ashes #captain swan fic #cs fic #cs ff

[crewhonk]

High Hopes (Prologue)

Summary: In which two people who are having issues dealing with the card they have been dealt, take a chance and hope for the best. 

Bucky Barnes X Assistant!Reader

Words: 1.5K

series warnings: slow burn, sexual tension, forbidden luvvv, everyone knows about their relationship but they think they’re being sneaky, trauma angst, smut eventually, tony being a bridezilla, nat and steve being Power Couple, captain!bucky

AN: This is my Christmas gift unto you. Happy holidays, you filthy animals. tag list for this series is open until it isnt!

Follow me on Twitter for updates! @thottybarnes

___________________________

It had been a rough year for Y/N Y/L/N, and her hopes were low as she scrolled through what seemed to be hundreds of job recruitment websites. She had only finished her business practicum a month ago and had yet to find a job which she deemed acceptable for a young twenty-something-year-old woman with a masters in business. Thankfully her very rich and very lovely best friend, Claudia, allowed her to stay in her brownstone apartment until she was able to afford her own rent or move out or do whatever real adults did when they were expected to do things by themselves. 

The glasses which Y/N had perched on her nose had long since stopped working, her now tired eyes drying and watering at the same time, and making her vision fuzzy around the edges. They were too-wet and too-dry at the same time, strained from staring at her laptop screen and working tirelessly for the better part of her day. To Y/N, submitting resumes and scheduling interviews was honestly her least favorite thing in the whole wide world-- even more than wet socks, or cold hands.

“Anything?” Claudia said, entering her bedroom and handing Y/N a mug of tea before perching herself at the end of the bed. 

“Claudia. I need you to shoot me. Just take out me outside and shoot me like a lame horse or something.” Y/N whined, continuing to scroll. Nothing good was coming up, and she knew she couldn’t be picky for her first Adult job, but damn— she really didn’t want to work at Whole Foods for the rest of her life.

“I’m not shooting you, you’re being really dramatic and it’s unnecessary. Scoot over and give me the laptop.” Claudia crawled over and scooted herself under the heavy quilts, and took the laptop going on a few job-recruiting sites which she had heard of while listening to a podcast earlier that day. 

Y/N pulled the blanket up around her ears then, trying to close her eyes for a second and rid herself of an ebbing headache she could feel pressing against the top of her skull. It was only a few minutes later when Claudia gasped and sat up fully, waking Y/N up from the odd place in between sleep and wake. 

“What the fuck.” Y/N grumbled, nosing herself deeper into the thick pillows. 

“Pepper Potts needs an assistant. She wants someone young and with a masters in business. Y/N. You have a masters in business.” Claudia rushed, clicking on the job posting and slapping Y/N’s shoulder. 

“I’m not going to get it— it’s a public job posting for Tony Starks fiancee. There are probably thousands of applicants.” Y/N groaned, sitting up once more and snuggling into her best friends side. 

“I wouldn’t hurt to apply. Y/N this could be huge. If you’re Pepper Potts assistant, you could do anything after that. Jesus, I’m sure you could even retire!” Claudia handed the computer over to her best friend and watched as Y/N opened her resume folder and dragged it over to the new e-mail box. Within a few clicks, her laptop sent off a whooshing sound and the e-mail square clicked away. 

“There. Oh, God now my hopes are up.” Y/N breathed, deciding thirty resumes were enough for today and shutting her laptop, throwing it to the end of the bed as if it had suddenly become hot. 

“Good. You deserve high hopes after everything that’s happened to you this year.” Claudia whispered, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s shoulders and handing her her tea. 

“Thank you, Claud. For everything.”

“Anything for you, Bear.”

______________________

Bucky Barnes attention was pulled from his mission briefing when one Sam Wilson jutted Bucky’s phone into his face. It took a second for his eyes to focus, but he wasn’t expecting for his own smiling face to be staring back at him. 

The screen in front of him had a picture of Bucky Barnes smiling with his arm wrapped around Steve’s support dog, followed by his first name and his age (which said 31, but was not, in fact,  correct). He furrowed his brows only slightly and read the tiny blurb he assumed would be about him. 

“Not as cool as my name may suggest? What the hell is this?” He looked up at the offending person who was towering over him, who only smiled and plopped down on the table in front of Bucky. 

“You’re lonely, Buck. You need someone other than paperwork and your hand.” Sam said as if the answer was obvious. Bucky, instead of responding, rolled his eyes and threw the phone on the other side of the couch and turned his attention back tot he briefings in front of him. Instead of having the chance to read them, however, Sam snatched them away, piled them neatly into the brown folder and placed it on the table next to him. 

“Seriously, man. As much as you drive me insane, I’m worried about you. I and Donald have hit it off well, Cap’s with Nat and we don’t want to leave you behind.” Sam ushered, his voice the same that he used for his patients at the VA. 

“I’m fine, Sam. You’re not leaving me behind— I’m choosing to do what’s expected of me.” Bucky whined, tired already of this conversation. Sure, it would be nice to be pressed to the back of some pretty dame late at night, but he had no time for that. Steve was hanging up the Captain mantel soon, and he needed to be ready for the question he knew was coming his way. He had no time for play when he had so much work to do. 

“No. What’s expected of you is for you to be happy. Your therapist, among other people, have told you time and time again that you’re ready for a relationship. I know you’re scared, Bucky. I know girls aren’t the same as they used to be. I know it’s hard to find someone with shared life experience but you have to at least try.” Sam frowned, leaning back when Bucky shot up from his place on the desk. Bucky felt vulnerable suddenly— maybe even a bit offended at Sam’s words, but mostly vulnerable. He knew there was no way to hide things from Sam— hell, his job was to read soldiers and help them with their issues, but for Sam to attack him with no given intention before was a slap to Bucky’s face. 

“I’m not scared, Sam. I’ve had enough scared for three lifetimes. I’m focussed— there’s a difference.” Bucky snarled, walking through the living room and snatching the files from their place on the pristine coffee table and leaving the room in a flurry of embarrassment and anger. 

Sam only sighed, watching his best friend storm from the common room. 

___________________

“Yes, oh my gosh thank you. I’ll be there at nine. Yes, thank you for considering me for the position, Ma’am. Alright, see you then. Bye.” Y/N gasped in disbelief, hanging up her phone and leaning with her back against the balcony railing. She stared at the end call screen reflected in her phone for only a few seconds before taking a breath, pocketing her phone, and walking through the penthouse to Claudia’s room. 

The pink room came quicker than she expected, and she stared at her purple-haired friend in an empty shock for a while before she broke frothier spell at the ushering of her friend to do so. 

“Y/N what’s wrong— it looks like you saw something horrifying. Oh Jesus, was it that old lady streaking again? I swear I really should talk to Luke about that—“

“I got the interview.” Y/N said breathlessly. Claudia sent her an excited smile and perked up from her place among the nest of pillows and blankets around her. 

“Well, damn, Girl! Congrats! Movie night and wine to celebrate?” She smiled, reaching for her phone to postulate some expensive wine and take out. 

“No, Claud. I got the interview.” Y/N responded, phone now clutched in her hands. Claudia’s smile fell from her face and the dimple between her eyebrows deepened as she tried to figure out what she was saying. Then, as if a wave crashed over her, Claudia froze and blinked quickly. 

“Wait—“

“It’s at nine tomorrow morning.” Y/N rushed, dizzy with elation. 

“Wait! With Pepper Potts?! That interview?!” Claudia threw the blankets off of her and kneeled on the side of the bed, waiting for the response she knew would come from her best friends lips. 

“I have an interview with the director of Stark Industries at nine.” Y/N repeated. She thought that if she repeated the phrase out loud in different ways, it would sink in and she could feel her feet once more. She was swept up, however, by the mass that was her best friend, spinning her and jumping her around. The girls screamed and spoke in rushed tones for the rest of the night, expensive wine and takeout strewn about the room and almost forgotten. Finally, Y/N Y/L/N had not only caught a break, but the break. 

____________

Next Part

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#bucky #Bucky Barnes #BUCKY! #steve rogers x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader x steve #mobster bucky barnes #plus size!reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes rp #tony stark x bucky barnes #barnes #bucky barnes tfa #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes preference #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes alpha #bucky barnes smut #slow burn #bucky barnes soulmate au #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x ofc #barnes x reader #bucky barnes blurb #pepper potts

[for-the-love-of-bangtan]

In Your Eyes

Summary: You’ve had a weird connection with Hoseok since the two of you were children. Living thousands of miles apart didn’t stop the two of you from being able to see what the other sees, hear what the other hears, and feel what the other feels. This bond between you two brought you closer together, but not close enough to touch. So when Hoseok asks to meet you in person, you begin to wonder what could happen if your proximity gets a little closer. 

Pairing: Hoseok x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: Mentions of depression, mentions of attempted suicide, mentions of death, mentions of abandonment, cursing

10.3 k

A/N: Italicized dialogue is Korean. This is my first fanfiction (but not my first story) so bare with me, please. I hope you enjoy!

“I’m scared,” You whispered to him, your voice hoarse. It was dark in your room, but when you blinked your eyes, you weren’t there anymore.

The room was bright and open, unfamiliar to you. The boy turned to you, an expression of shock on his young face. He was taller than you, and lanky, perhaps a year or two older. His eyes, narrow and frightened, focused on you. He opened his mouth to speak.

You shut your eyes, afraid that if he spoke he would be real. When you reopened your eyes, he was still there. He stood in your dark room, at the foot of your bed. This time, he appeared more startled.

“Where am I?” He cried, his tongue foreign to you. You were young and stupid, but you figured quickly he was speaking and Asian language.

“Who are you?” Your voice was meek. You drew the covers of your bed up to your chin, covering your frail body.

When you shut your eyes again, he disappeared. You were left alone in your empty room. You waited. You shut your eyes again. You reopened them. But you were still alone.

-

“I was seven,” You paused, phrasing the statement as though it was a question. You drew your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them. “When I first saw him.”

“In a dream?” She queried.

“Sure,” You responded.

“So you’ve seen him again?”

“Mostly in my dreams.”

“Mostly?” She quirked an eyebrow, her expression quizzical.

“Shit, I mean,” You buried your face against your knees for a brief moment, trying to think of a logical answer that didn’t make you sound insane, which seemed pointless, considering you were sitting in your therapist’s office. Being a little bit insane was essential to be here. “I don’t know.”

She seemed to consider you for a moment. You could see a dozen questions brewing in her mind through the curious glint in her eyes. “Tell me about him.”

“Is she asking about me?” He said, his voice echoing in your mind. “I wonder what you’re going to say.”

You wondered too. But a part of you was afraid - afraid to disclose the intimate details, afraid of what she will think of you…

“Can I go home now?”

“We still have time, Y/N.”

You shifted in your seat. “I want to go home.”

“Are you okay, Y/N?”

You hated the way she always ended every sentence with your name, as though she were trying to goad answers out of you that would make you sound crazy. But you were crazy.

“You’re not crazy,” He said.

“Of course I’m not okay, I’m here, aren’t I?” She looked at me with an expression of concern that you did not care for. Sometimes you loved her, because she was an angel, but sometimes you hated her, because she also tended to be a patronizing cunt. “Can I go home now?”

“Please make another appointment, Y/N.” She said, following you with her gaze as you gathered your bag and rushed out of the room. You didn’t make another appointment.

It’s been fifteen years, and you’ve begun to understand some of what he says. You picked up after several years of pining to understand him that he spoke Korean. He was quite excited when you chose a Korean language course as your elective in high school, but he didn’t start to learn English until you were well into college. Of course, you didn’t mind. His unrelenting thoughts began to make sense to you now.

“You didn’t tell her about me?”

“Go away, Hoseok,” you mumbled under my breath. Sometimes you became restless and annoyed after therapy sessions - Hoseok knew this, but it didn’t stop him from asking if something was wrong. 

“Are you upset?”

You had continued learning Korean when you were in college, so at this point you pride yourself in your fluency. His English, well, it was improving, but you couldn’t deny it was cute when he spoke broken English.

“I’m sorry,” He said.

It was noon, as it was made evident by the sun glaring down on you, which meant it was three in the morning in Seoul. “Why are you awake?” You spoke as I took off down the street to the bus stop.

You stopped in your tracks, and found yourself standing in the center of what was clearly the Bangtan dance practice room. You let out an exasperated sigh, and turned to face him. Hoseok leaned against one of the mirror walls, his chest rising and falling in accordance to the panting breath he let out. “Hoseok,” You began. “What are you doing practicing at-” You paused to check the math in your head. “Three o'clock in the morning?”

Hoseok seemed shocked to see you standing five feet in front of him. You watched as his eyes scanned your body, and then as he stood. Suddenly the two of you weren’t in his dance studio anymore. You stood on the sidewalk, the bus stop looming over you. A line of people began to gather nearby. You turned to study them, briefly, and pressed your phone against your cheek to feign a phone call. You learned the hard way that speaking telepathically to someone across the world made you look kind of crazy. Boy were high school students dicks.

“You look nice today,” His voice almost a whisper.

You examined yourself - you had decided to spice things up today and wear a black and white patterned, button up shirt with your usual black jeans and funny socks.

“I thought I’d dress up for my therapist, let her know that even though I’m an emotional mess I can still dress myself,” You paused, scrutinizing Hoseok. “But that’s beside the point. You should get some sleep.”

“I know… It’s just - the comeback is just around the corner, and we just barely came back from tour, so everything is hectic- I just want this to be perfect.”

“Hobi,” You paused, your attention diverted when the bus came into view. “You’re perfect. Go sleep, asshole. I gotta catch the bus.”

A small smile found its way onto Hoseok’s face, and you returned it.

It’s been fifteen years since you first saw Hoseok, standing in his room, in your room. You never understood why the connection started when it did, but when it did, you began to see him, hear him… feel him. But he was thousands of miles away. He handled it a lot better than you had. He didn’t tell anyone when you first saw each other, or after. You were an idiot to tell your parents that there were voices in your head.

-

You and Hoseok worked out a system. It was adapted and refined over several years, and eventually you had settled into the life of a night owl, staying up well up to four in the morning to communicate with Hoseok, while he went about his day. So sometimes you’d get minimum four hours of sleep, but you made up for it by taking naps throughout the day. It may not have been the healthiest system, but you were more than willing to make sacrifices for your best friend. For years Hoseok complained, worried that the erratic sleep schedule you had built would be detrimental to your health, to which you would answer, “Hoseok, every kid my age lives off of five hours of sleep and copious amounts of caffeine. It’s cool. It’s hip. Get with the times, grandpa.” Eventually, Hoseok resigned to letting you go to bed at ungodly hours, but it didn’t stop him from voicing his concern every now and then.

“Y/N,” Hoseok was waiting in an airport terminal for his flight to America, where he and the rest of BTS were set to start their comeback-comeback tour, following the release of their new album. The other boys were scattered about the seating area, some on their phones, some trying to get in some sleep before the flight. “It’s two in the morning, get some sleep.”

“You’re not my dad,” You muttered under your breath, ducking your head. You were sitting at your desk, watching the latest k-drama Hoseok recommended to you, and eating chips. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Go. To. Sleep,” He reiterated in English, shaking his head in disbelief as you turned to look him in the eye, defiantly popping another chip into your mouth.

You took in your surroundings, examining the airport terminal. They were in a private waiting room - it was just Hoseok and the other boys. “You’re about to leave for America, aren’t you?”

The question had Hoseok buzzing. Since BTS had first taken on the U.S. when their popularity was taking off, it had never occured to either of you to suggest meeting in person. But this time, the question was on the tip of Hoseok’s tongue. He desperately wanted to see you - for real. But he swallowed the desire and decided instead to casually ignore the prospect, something the two of you had been doing for years.

“Yes! I’m excited.”

“Hobi,” You paused the show and swiveled around in your chair to face him, sitting on the edge of your bed. “This show is crazy. I can barely follow what’s happening. I got so confused as to how everyone is connected that I had to make a diagram-” You pulled out a sheet of paper where you had written all of the character’s names, connected by lines and descriptions of how they were related to each other. It was an intricate web that spanned across the entire paper, color coded and deeply detailed. Hoseok examined the paper, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“But it’s good right?” Hoseok said, leaning back.

“It’s goddamn amazing,” You added. “It’s your fault I’m not sleeping tonight. This show is too good.”

At the realization that you wanted to continue your show, Hoseok pouted, his eyes glistening and his bottom lip jutting out, “Aw, I wanted to talk to you.

God, I’m so whipped for this boy, you thought to yourself.

You briefly turned around to shut your laptop, “Okay, I have to take a break anyways. My eyeballs are about to melt from how much I’ve been watching.”

Hoseok smiled, “I’m happy you like it.”

You never really pressured Hoseok to speak English - you were more than happy to speak Korean with him. But since you had made the effort to learn Korean, he insisted on doubling his efforts on learning English, especially now that BTS was becoming increasingly popular worldwide. So, you attributed his desire to learn English to his love for his English-speaking ARMYs, and not because he wanted to make it up to you for learning a whole new language.

“Your English is getting better,” You said, reaching into the bag of chips again. “Hey, do you think you can eat these chips?”

“What?” Hoseok looked baffled, mostly with your train of thought, rather than the plausibility of eating chips that were located across the world. “I don’t think so.”

“Come on, try it,” You held the bag towards Hoseok. He looked at it warily at the way you expectantly shook to the bag of chips at him, waiting for him to make a move. Gingerly, Hoseok reached into the bag and grabbed a chip. He held the chip in front of his face, his eyes on you. A part of Hoseok wanted to throw the chip to the side and touch you instead, because this was stupid, right? Why were you so fixated on what would happen if Hoseok ate a chip that was thousands of miles away, when you could be wondering what would happen if the two of you touched?

You held your breath as Hoseok ate the chip, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when you swallowed. You were so focused on watching him eat the chip that you entirely missed when he finished, your eyes locked on his mouth.

“Y/N,” Hoseok deadpanned.

“Holy shit,” You tugged on the roots of your hair, utterly flabbergasted. “He ate the chip. This is amazing. Earth-shattering.” You stood abruptly, your hands still tangled in your hair. Hoseok wished it were his hands in your hair.  “You just ate a chip from six thousand miles away. Holy cow! Do you know what this means? Because I don’t? I-” You froze, examining the way Hoseok looked at you. There was something in the way he looked at you with a gentle smile that sent a chill down your entire body. “Hobi, how are you not freaking out? You just- you ate the chip.”

Hoseok shrugged, seeming too calm for what just happened.

You slumped back into your chair, staring at Hoseok with disbelief. The fucking audacity of the guy to just act nonchalant after eating the chip and stare at you like you were the only person in the world.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Hoseok quickly averted his eyes, a blush creeping onto his face. Suddenly the two of you weren’t in your room anymore - you were in the airport seating area, and you noticed that the other boys were beginning to collect their carry-on bags.

Namjoon turned to Hoseok, looking tired. “Come on, Hobi,” He said. Namjoon eyed the chair that Hoseok had been speaking to, knowingly. “You can talk to Y/N when we land.”

You stuck your tongue out at Namjoon, making Hoseok erupt in laughter. Namjoon eyed him warily, and walked out of the room with his bag slung over his shoulder.

“You should go,” You said, nevertheless.

“Stay with me on the plane,” Hoseok said, pouting his lips.

“Yah, I thought you wanted me to sleep,” You said as-a-matter-of-factly.

Hoseok’s eyes widened with realization. He had completely forgotten it was nearing three in the morning for you. Time always became obsolete when the two of you were together, which is why it was so easy for you to stay up so late to talk to Hoseok.

“Plus,” You added. “I’ve never been on a plane.”

“You told me you came on a plane when you moved here,” Hoseok countered.

“That doesn’t count - I was a baby, Hobi,” You recalled your parents moving from (insert your hometown/country) when you were little. Your dad left shortly after you first met Hoseok; you remember Hoseok being there when you realized your father wasn’t going to come back.

Suddenly, you found yourself sitting in a luxury seat next to Hoseok, on an airplane. Panic began to jet through your veins, and Hoseok was quick to notice. “Go to sleep,” He beckoned. How he deeply desired to take your hand in his, give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Right,” You muttered under your breath. “Yeah, thanks Hobi.”

“For what?”

It occurred to you that Hoseok didn’t know you were thinking about your dad, about how Hoseok never left your side when your dad did. You felt embarrassed, thinking about it, but a part of you wanted Hoseok to know how much he meant to you, so you turned and looked deep in his eyes. “For talking to me, I guess.” God you were awful at explaining your emotions. You began to pity your therapist for having to handle your emotionally inept ass.

Hoseok smiled nonetheless, “Your my best friend, Y/N.”

Suddenly, Yoongi, who had been walking down the aisle to take his seat, froze, his head whipping to face Hoseok. “I’m not your best friend?”

-

It was a warm evening, so you lay in bed in one of your dad’s old t-shirts and a pair of boxer shorts. Your skin felt thick with heat, and the fan in the corner of the room did little to relieve you. You began to sweat, and your chest rose and fell exasperatedly. Desperately, you rubbed at the Korean sheet mask on your face, collecting the cool liquid on your fingers and depositing it across your neck. 

You turned over onto my side and scanned the room before you. You were in a hotel room. You knew that Bangtan was touring in America. You knew because you were excited to see them live, finally. “What are you doing, Hobi?”

Hoseok gasped, but there was a sense of tiredness to it. You figured he had been practicing again, but that wasn’t the case. You stood up, removing the sheet mask from your face and tossing it aside, just in time to see Hoseok scrambling on his bed.

“Y/N!” Hoseok screeched, his face glowing vibrant red. His t-shirt had ridden up his chest, exposing his well defined stomach, and he was now making an effort to hide himself. His sweatpants were hurriedly pulled up his legs, and were loosely hugging his hips. You quirked an eyebrow at the sight of his hardness through the sheer fabric of his sweatpants.

“Were you masturbating?”

Hoseok drew his knees up to his chest upon noticing you staring, and you tore my gaze away from the sight, a shit-eating grin on your face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” You said, your voice husky and laced with amusement. “Is this your hotel room? Nice.”

You turned around to scan the room, when he called you. “Wait, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” You asked, turning back to face him.

“Because,” He paused, bowing his head in shame. “I was thinking of you. That’s why you showed up, isn’t it?”

You froze in your tracks. “Oh,” You whispered, your voice cracking.

Hoseok suddenly moved from his bed, and stood before you. His face looked panicked, and you could see tears forming in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just- I was thinking, and then all of a sudden I was thinking of you, because I always think of you- but- not like that I mean! I mean I always-”

“Hobi…”

“I’m sorry, I’m making you uncomfortable-” Hoseok collapsed on his bed and buried his face in his hands.

You stood before him, frozen, admiring his form. He dug the meat of his palms into his eyes, and you worried that he might cry. “I’m disgusting, you must think I’m disgusting.” He mumbled to himself.

You had never touched him. You was always too scared to, and you thought he was too. The two of you never knew what would happen if you touched; a dozen ideas of what might happen always raced through your heads. But in that moment, as you looked at him, flushed from touching himself, you wanted to touch him.

Hoseok looked up, and you knew by the look of shock in his teary eyes that he half expected you to be gone. “What are you doing?” He croaked, watching as you approached him.

“You think about me?” Your eyes shifted, scanning his face for some form of answer. Hoseok opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t seem to form any coherent phrase as he watched you with wonder, and a little bit of panic, in his eyes.

It was quick, the moment you touched him. You lifted your hand and placed it on his shoulder, and he felt… real, but you knew he almost wasn’t. There was an airy feeling to his flesh, as though he were only halfway there. So you squeezed his shoulder, and watched as his breath hitched and something flashed across his eyes.

“Y/N…” He whispered.

Gently, you pushed him onto his back and, in one quick motion, straddled his hips.

“Do you think of me like this?”

“Yes…” He moaned, gripping my hips. “God, yes.”

You leaned down, hovering over him, your faces centimeters apart. You knew that if you did this, the touch would be real, your connection would be real. You moved closer to him, holding your breath. Your lips ghosted over his, and you could hear him suck in a breath.

“Y/N…” Hoseok tightened his grip on your hips, and slowly slid his hands up your sides, and across your back.

For a moment, everything was still, the two of you unmoving in anticipation, until...

“J-Hope!” Jimin flung the door open, stepping inside with a wide stride. His eyes shifted over the room, until they landed on Hoseok, lying on his back against the bed. “It’s time to...go. What are you doing?”

Hoseok shot up, staring at Jimin with a wild look in his eyes. “Jimin!”

“Look, bro, we gotta go. We’re going out for dinner, remember?”

“Right, yeah,” Hoseok nervously patted himself down, feeling warm where you were once sitting.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, your, uh...” Jimin said, leaning against the door frame, a knowing look on his face. Jimin’s gaze shifted to Hoseok’s lap, where he was still visibly excited against his sweatpants. Hoseok followed Jimin’s gaze, and promptly threw a pillow at his bandmate.

-

“Did you wash your hands?” Jimin quipped, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Yah, Jimin-ah!” Hoseok griped, swatting at his dongsaeng’s arm.

“What’s going on?” Jin chimed in, leaning over the table to examine Hoseok and Jimin with piqued curiosity. “Why are you fighting?”

Hoseok opened his mouth to speak a quick excuse, but Jimin beat him to it. “Hobi-hyung is embarrassed because I caught him masturbating.”

Jimin wiggled his eyebrows at his friends, the shit eating grin never abandoning his face. Hoseok shrunk in his seat, burying his face into his hands.

“Yah, Jiminah, we’re eating! I don’t need the mental image of Hobi masturbating when we’re about to eat,” Yoongi groaned.

In all honesty, it was nothing the boys hadn’t joked about before, but the embarrassment was tenfold knowing that Hoseok was about to kiss you when Jimin rudely interrupted, even if the other boys didn’t know that was what was bothering him.

“Why are you embarrassed, Hobi? It’s not like we don’t do it too,” Taehyung, who sat to Hoseok’s right, mentioned, placing a comforting hand on Hoseok’s thigh.

“It’s not that,” Hoseok muttered. “I was with Y/N.”

The room stilled. Everyone bore an expression of shock, and a bit of confusion. Jimin, the most curious (having seen Hoseok in his flustered state), spoke first, “Wait,” He paused for emphasis. “You were with Y/N? In the hotel room?”

Hoseok dropped his hands from his face and found six pairs of eyes drilling holes in him. “Yes?”

Jin was the first to laugh, his windshield wiper guffaw erupting the silence of the room. The others joined in on a chuckle, and Jimin leaned over to Hoseok and spoke above the laughter, “I’m so sorry, bro. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Hoseok let out a noise of protest and promptly began banging his head against the table. He felt one of his bandmate’s cool hands against his neck, probably Taehyung’s, and stopped the assault on his forehead. Hoseok pressed his cheek flat against the table, facing his friends, “We were about to kiss...”

“The way I saw it, it looked like you guys were going to do more than kiss,” Jimin announced. The table erupted into a chorus of ‘ooo’s and ‘aaa’s.

“You saw nothing!” Hoseok snapped, rising from the table.

“I didn’t know you guys could, like,” Namjoon motioned with his hands. The others mimicked him, motioning vulgar things. “Touch.”

“I didn’t know either,” Hoseok admitted. “We never tried before.”

“But you wanted to, right?” Taehyung queried. “Touch ‘em, I mean.”

“Of course!” The boys giggled at Hoseok’s response. “They’re just so-” He let out a distressed noise, burying his face in his hands again. “But after the first time I was too scared to try again. I didn’t think they wanted it too.”

“Wait,” Jin pauses, and everyone turns to face him. “The first time? I thought today was the first time.”

Hoseok’s face reddens with embarrassment and a little bit of shame. “I may have touched them before… They were drunk, so they don’t remember.”

“Hoseok!” Taehyung shrieks, slapping Hoseok’s arm. The others begin to shout out their disapproval, and it dawns upon Hoseok what he was insinuating.

“No! I didn’t take advantage of them! I swear! They were drunk and having a panic attack, so I just hugged them!” Hoseok shouted above everyone else’s complaints.

The table quieted down, and they all took what Hoseok said into consideration.

“And they don’t remember?” Jimin said. “That sucks, hyung.”

Hoseok pouted, remembering the night. He had awoken to the sensation of his heart pounding, and found you curled up on the floor crying. It wasn’t the first time you had a panic attack, nor was it the first time he witnessed it. But it was the first time Hoseok did something about it. He picked you up in his arms, and let you cry into his chest. It was terrifying, the electrifying sensation of actually touching you, even though you were thousands of miles away.

“Where are they right now?” Jungkook asked from across the table.

Hoseok looked at the maknae, as did everyone else. “I don’t know,” He answered honestly. “Home, probably. It’s late.”

“What do they look like?” Jungkook asked.

“Yah! Why do you have so many questions?”

“I’m just curious,” Jungkook pouted, slumping in his seat. “We all are, honestly. Your friend says he’s communicating telepathically with a person across the world and you get curious. ”

The others nodded in agreement.

“You’ve known them longer than you’ve known us, and we don’t know much about them. Sure, you talk about how they have the cutest laugh but-” Jin commented, and was abruptly cut off by Yoongi.

“We want to know the important stuff,” Yoongi finished, much to Jin’s displeasure. 

“Well, they live here. In the States, I mean,” Hoseok began. “They’re twenty-two. And they… they’re beautiful.”

The boys’ faces lit up upon seeing the bright smile on Hoseok’s face. “You really like them, Hobi,” Namjoon prompted.

Hoseok didn’t hesitate to say, “I really do.”

It was silent for a while, everyone smiling at Hoseok, and Hoseok smiling, thinking about you.

“So when are you gonna meet her? You know, kiss her for real?” Yoongi said, bluntly.

-

It was late, and sleep had eluded you for hours. You wondered what Hoseok was doing, if he was thinking about you, about what you had almost done. You had wanted to feel him again, so you laid in bed and connected your phone to your Bluetooth speaker, listening to the gentle, heavy beats of Hoseok’s playlist. The two of you always shared music with each other, it was another connection that the two of you shared.

“Hi,” Hoseok stood in your room. You shot up in your bed to look at him. He was dressed in a black coat over a plain white t-shirt and jeans. He looked so handsome, his hair falling over his eyes in a boyish way.

“Hi,” You whispered, your hands restlessly brushing your hair, then finding their way to rest on your lap.

“You’re still awake?” Hoseok eyed the clock mounted on the wall - it was well past midnight.

“So are you,” You responded. His smile was small, and you saw it briefly before he ducked his head to hide the blush on his cheeks. Hoseok began to play with the hem of his shirt for some time, until you stepped forward, garnering his attention.

“Hi,” you repeated. He looked you in the eyes and smiled wide.

“Are you listening to my playlist?” Hoseok quirked, realization dawning upon him as he took in the surroundings of your room. It was a small room, a part of a studio apartment that you had moved into during your first year of college. Hoseok always said he was proud of you for becoming independent so young, moving out of your grandparents home as soon as you started college.

You said nothing as he moved towards where the music was coming from, and promptly began to dance. You sat back down on the edge of your bed, watching him. A laugh escaped you, and it made Hoseok smile like the sun. Hoseok continued to dance, moving across the room until he stopped in front of you. He seemed to hesitate, his fingers hanging in the air between you.

“Hobi…”

“I want to see you,” He whispered. “I want to see you for real.”

Your eyes grew wide with shock. “Shit, Hobi,” You said.

Hoseok stepped back, a crestfallen expression replacing his once happy face. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, Hobi, I want to see you, too!” You said, standing from your bed and taking his hands in yours. Hoseok looked at where you connected, absolutely loving the feeling of touching you, even though it didn’t feel all too real.

“Okay,” He said, squeezing your hand. “Okay.”

“I actually,” You paused, ducking your head. Hoseok moved his hand from your grasp and lifted your chin so that you were looking him in the eye. Hoseok smiled, and urged you to go on. “I bought tickets… to go see you in LA. I wanted to surprise you.”

Hoseok’s jaw dropped, then his initial expression of shock was replaced with a blinding smile. “Oh, jagi,” He said, pulling you into an embrace.

It was overwhelming, feeling Hoseok’s entire body pressed up against yours. Like your body was tickling all over, in a wonderful way. He wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his head into your hair. It had never occurred to you before how much taller he was.

But as quickly as he hugged you, Hoseok pulled away, a bashful smile on his lips. “Sorry,” He said.

“No, don’t be sorry,” You reached out and gently cupped his face. His eyes shined with adoration.

“I want to kiss you, but,” Hoseok paused. “I want to kiss you for real.”

“Okay.”

-

“Okay, Pam, here’s the deal,” You said, sliding into your therapist’s office with a Capri-Sun in one hand and a Slim Jim in the other. “Jim?” You jerked the treat towards the woman who sat across from you. She shook her head. “No, okay. Suit yourself- Anyways. I’m freaking the fuck out. And the last thing I need is for you to throw me in a mental hospital because I’ve got tickets to go see the love of my life this Friday, and there is no way in hell you’re going to ruin that for me.”

“Why would I throw you in a mental hospital, Y/N?”

“Because,” You began. “Because, what I’m about to tell you is going to make me batshit crazy.”

Pam uncrosses her legs in anticipation.

“Okay, so it all started when I was seven years old-” Pam’s expression lit up, and you could tell she was excited you were finally opening up to her about the mysterious boy you were seeing. “I woke up in the middle of the night because I heard music, and it was weird music - like, Korean, right. And I wake up, and there’s this boy in my bedroom, and I don’t know who he is. And he doesn’t know who I am, and we’re both confused, because all of a sudden I’m not in my room anymore. I’m in his room.”

“Was this, perhaps, a nightmare, Y/N?”

“What-no, this was real. I mean, after that, I started to dream about him, and I still dream about him, but I could tell when I saw him in my sleep and when I saw him when I was awake.”

“You saw this boy when you were awake?”

“Yes, I know, I know, you’re probably starting to think I’m some schizo, but I swear I’m not. I’m getting into the juicy part,” You pause to drink from your Capri-Sun. Pam looks at you with piqued curiosity. “I didn’t see him for several years after that. Then one day, in the sixth grade, I was in the locker room and he just… showed up. You can imagine what kind of reaction I had to seeing this boy from my nightmares in the locker room. I screamed… a lot. The other student’s thought I was going crazy. I scared the crap out of the poor guy. And then they sent me to the principal’s office because I had a mental breakdown and ‘was seeing things’ and they called my mom and the school therapist.”

“Did he speak to you?”

“Yeah, he was saying all sorts of things in Korean,” You slumped in your chair and eyed Pam. She was looking at you strange. “Anyways, school sucked after that, as I’ve told you before. The student’s spread rumors about how I was crazy, I didn’t have any friends, kids bullied me - the whole enchilada. The next time I saw him was when he was in school, and at that point we realized that this shit was real. So, I told my mom, which was a huge mistake. I love my mom, or, loved, whatever. She was trying to help me, but it was really fucking scary going to all of these psychiatrists and psychologists and therapists when you’re going through puberty and have, like, zero friends. And they’re all talking to me like I’m crazy, which I’m not! I was just a scared little kid.”

You paused, tucking your Slim-Jim into the pocket of your jean jacket, and slurping the last of the Capri-Sun. “I was fourteen when I first stayed at a mental hospital.”

“I remember,” Pam spoke, her voice soft. “And the boy?”

“Oh, right, him,” You sat up, leaning your elbows against your knees, and cupping your face in your palm. “We started talking after I saw him for, what, the third time? Even though we didn’t understand each other, we would talk to each other, about… stuff. He was nice. He grew up in Gwangju, in Korea. He loves to dance; he was in a dance crew when he was a kid. He was my only friend. I know that sounds pathetic, but he was. After everyone thought I was some crazy schizophrenic, I kind of became that person. Like, I became crazy, just because everyone told me I was. But he wasn’t scared of me.”

“Do you still speak to him?”

You nodded. “But he stopped speaking to me when I went into the mental hospital. He told me he was afraid that if the doctors continued to see me speaking to him they would only keep me there, so,” You paused, remembering the lonely nights in the hospital. You had lost your only friend, and you had begun to think that he also believed you were crazy. “He was two years older than me, and he had just auditioned to be an idol trainee, so he didn’t talk to me after I got out either, because he was so busy.”

“An idol trainee?”

“Yeah, he was always practicing dance and stuff. Sometimes I would see him, but he wouldn’t notice me.”

“When did he speak to you again?”

“I was fifteen, he was seventeen,” You began to explain. “This was just after my mom died, and I was living with my grandparents at their apartment. They had a pool, and I would go swimming alone a lot. It was the only time when they weren’t watching over me. I loved them, they were nice to me, but it felt the same as it was with my mom. I let them watch me, I let them think I was crazy, I took the pills they gave me.

“Anyways, so I was swimming, and then he showed up. At this point, I had started high school and was learning Korean, because, why not. I’d watch a lot of k-dramas and everyone thought I was a Koreabu. I still didn’t have a lot of friends, I still didn’t have him either.” You paused, remembering the day, the way you felt embarrassed in your swimsuit, in front of a seventeen year old boy. “He looked sad. I could tell he was pitying me. He told me he was sorry that my mom died. He told me he was there at the funeral, but I was to gone to notice.”

“I’m curious, Y/N,” Pam said. “Why did this start when you were seven years old?”

“Hold on, I’ll get to the theories when the story is over. I’m about to get into the really sexy stuff,” You continued. “Anyways, he told me that he experienced my grief, that his friends were really worried because he was always sad. It felt kind of cool to know someone else was experiencing what I was experiencing. I mean, I felt bad that he had to go through that because-”

“Because you tried to kill yourself?”

You winced when Pam mentioned it, but you supposed that you had set yourself up for that. “I had never seen him so scared…” You whispered, mostly to yourself.

You were sixteen and you had spent the past year trying to gather the willpower to cry over your mom’s death. Hoseok said it broke his heart to see you so… ambivalent about it. The therapy didn’t help, and a part of you wondered if your grandparents hated you because you didn’t grieve over the death of your mother. After that incident you stayed in the hospital for months, all the while Hoseok never left your side. But you didn’t speak to him, not until you were out, at least.

“Sometimes I wonder why he tolerates me.”

Pam didn’t say anything.

“Things were sort of normal after that. High school was a nightmare, but I made friends with some of the people I met in the hospital. Most of them died, so it was just me and him. My grandparents never worried too much about me because I’d pretend to be on the phone with my ‘friend from Korea’.” You laughed at that, and Pam smiled. “It had never occurred to us to see if we were really there, so one day I asked if I could Skype him. I was seventeen.”

Pam’s eyebrows shot up at that.

“And we did, and it was nice. We would email each other and stuff. He would send me pictures of his dog, Mickey. Fast forward a couple years later, he asked to see me in person, and I’m freaking the fuck out, Pam. I’m freaking out!”

Pam didn’t know what to say. She was stumped. Flabbergasted. This had been one roller coaster ride of a therapy session. A part of her genuinely wanted to believe you weren’t crazy, but the therapist inside of her was screaming at her that these were clear symptoms of a schizophrenic. “You mentioned you have tickets to-”

“Go see the love of my life, yes.”

“Is this that boy?”

“That man, Pam, and a delicious one too.”

Pam laughed awkwardly.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to go see him?”

“You think I’m crazy,” You said. “You think this is all a figment of my imagination and I’m going to go see him and kidnap him and make a suit out of his skin? I can show you the pictures he sent me of his dog. They’re real.”

Pam said nothing, only shifting awkwardly in her seat.

“I’m not joking, Pam,” You said, pulling your phone out. “I have the receipts.”

Pam leaned forward when you brought up the text messages you shared with Hoseok. It was faulty evidence, it could have been just messages with another friend you were planning on meeting and teaming up with to skin this poor boy into a suit, but Pam decided to give you the benefit of the doubt, even if it meant risking her job.

“He’s an idol,” She stated, almost a little excited.

“Yeah, and you can’t tell anybody. You know, doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“I think maybe we should talk about your relationship with your father. It seems that this… connection with this boy started around the time your father left.”

You sat there, staring at Pam for what seemed like hours. “Yeah, I think that was enough for today.”

-

Hoseok was pacing. He was nervous, to say the least. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweating. You were going to see him, live, in concert. He didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to either of you before to do this. You had known each other for fifteen years, for fuck’s sake, and neither of you brought up meeting each other in person. Leave it to Yoongi to be the first one to suggest the idea. Of course, you admitted that you had wanted to go to one of his concerts before, but you could never afford a ticket, and so you never brought it up. But now, things had changed, you had started saving up since BTS’s popularity in America skyrocketed. Hoseok couldn’t be more nervous.

“Hoseok, calm down, bro,” Namjoon said from across the room, where he had been watching Hoseok pace back and forth for the past ten minutes.

“Yeah, the concert starts in half an hour. You don’t want to mess up because you’re nervous, do you?” Taehyung mentions. Namjoon shoots Taehyung a ‘shut up’ look, and Taehyung cowers in his seat. “Sorry,” He mumbles.

Hoseok hadn’t even thought about the concert, or the potential of messing up because his mind was on you, on where you were sitting, on how you were watching him, and how you had promised to meet him after the concert.

Hoseok had stopped pacing, his eyes locked on a spot on the floor. The others watched him with concern painted on all of their faces.

“Have you spoken with them since that night?” Jimin asked.

Of course the two of you had spoken. Not a day went by where you didn’t. Whether you woke up in the middle of the night because Hoseok was practicing or in the middle of an award show, or he woke up because you were singing along to a song playing in the supermarket. They always saw each other every day, even if sometimes it was just in passing because Hoseok was busy being an idol. And when they didn’t see each other, they were no doubt messaging each other.

“Yeah,” Hoseok paused to sit down, then promptly stood back up and continued pacing. The last you had spoken was last night, and since then you had sent him selfies of you getting ready for the concert, taking the bus to the concert, waiting in line for the concert. Hoseok wondered if you were nervous, too.

As if he read Hoseok’s thoughts, Jimin said, “Don’t worry, Hobi, I’m sure they’re nervous to see you too. They like you. It’s pretty obvious considering you guys were going to do it the other night-”

“It was just a kiss!”

Jimin held up his arms in mock defeat.

“What’s got you so worried, Hobi? Tell us,” Namjoon inquired.

Hoseok thought to himself, what has got him so worried? To be quite honest, he was absolutely terrified to see you. Before the two of you had nearly kissed, things were clear between the you - you were friends, best friends even. There were no lingering questions of ‘Do they like me back?’ ‘Are they only attracted to me?’ ‘Should I ask them out?’ Hoseok collapsed in his seat and stayed there.

“I think I’m going to have a panic attack,” He muttered, much to the alarm of everyone else.

“Are you okay?” You said, standing in the corner.

“Yah!” Hoseok cried, spazzing out in his place.

The boys all jumped up in shock, Taehyung muttering under his breath, “He really has gone crazy.”

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok implores, turning to face you. The boys had seen Hoseok communicate with you before, years ago when it they were just beginning to discover about the connection. But what was once watching with worry at their potentially crazy Hobi was now watching with wonder at the astonishing bond between you two. The boys were always excited to see you and Hoseok talk, cooing over the way Hoseok always got flustered when he spoke with you. It was evident to anyone in the room that Hoseok liked you.

“I was kind of freaking out, and I hoped you were too, because I’m really nervous-” You said, playing with the hem of your shirt. Hoseok admired the way you looked today - you were dressed in jeans and a t-shirt with the word ANPANMAN written across the front. On your head was a headband decorated by two Mang plushies. You looked so goddamn cute Hoseok was blushing.

“I was nervous too,” Hoseok admitted.

“Nervous? He was about to shit himself,” Yoongi added, much to Hoseok’s dismay.

Hoseok glared at his friends, who were all laughing at him. He quickly ducked into the hallway, and, upon finding a bathroom, hid inside.

“Oh, are you going to finish what you started the other night, Hobi?”

“Yah! Y/N!” He complained, leaning against the sink. “I just wanted some privacy…”

“I know,” You said, your voice calm now that you were with Hoseok. “I was just joking.”

“Where are you?” Hoseok asked.

The scene shifted from the bathroom to the audience, where thousands of ARMYs were gathering to watch BTS perform in just a matter of minutes. Hoseok was startled, at first, but he found peace in the sound of your giggle. “You’re really here,” Hoseok whispered, caught in awe of the fans.

“Of course I am,” You answered. “I’m excited to see you.” You added with a shy smile.

Hoseok faced you, and in the crowd of fans, he only saw your face. He noticed you were holding your phone up to your ear, a habit you picked up to avoid the punishing stares of strangers. You saw Hoseok hesitating, so you continued. “You’re going to do great, Hobi. You always do. Fighting!”

Hoseok’s smile rivaled the sun, that you were absolutely positive about. “Did I ever tell you, you have the most beautiful smile?”

“Y/N,” Hoseok said, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out and gently cupped your face with his hand, a smile on his own. “I love you.”

“What-”

There was a knock on the door.

“Hobi!” Namjoon called, and Hoseok was gone. “It’s time to go.”

You found yourself sitting alone, among the thousands of ARMYs. Hoseok had disappeared. The hand that was holding your phone fell to your lap. You stared at the back of the ARMY in front of you, but all you could see was Hobi, saying he loved you. You didn’t know how long you sat there, your jaw dropped until it began to ache. It didn’t even occur to you to contact Hoseok again. Before you knew it, the concert had begun.

-

You sat on the curb, tears still running down your cheeks. The concert ended minutes ago, and you had filed out of the stadium with the other ARMYs and into the streets. Now you waited, staring into your lap. You inhaled deeply, only to let out another sob. The concert - seeing Hoseok - had been overwhelming. But they were tears of joy, you told yourself. You were crying because you were happy you saw BTS, not because you were having a panic attack, not because you were worried Hoseok regretted what he had sad. He hadn’t contacted you since then, after all.

A dozen thoughts began to ring through your head, which was throbbing, when your phone dinged with a notification. It was a text message from Hoseok. You figured he must have been too busy to contact you, so he sent a message instead.

Hobi <3: I’m sorry.

You didn’t respond, confused by his message.

Hobi <3: I shouldn’t have said that. I know I messed up. If you don’t want to meet anymore, I understand.

Your heart began to race. What the fuck?

You: What the fuck, Hobi? Of course I want to see you.

You sent the message. Not a second later you began typing furiously.

You: Did you mean what you said?

Of course you loved Hoseok. You’d known the son of a bitch since you were seven, and what began as a crush when you were in middle school developed into something more over the fifteen years you knew each other. He was your best friend, and you loved him. You loved his smile. You loved how he was sunshine incarnate. You loved how he wasn’t afraid to be sad around you like he was afraid to be in front of others. You loved how he made you laugh. How he made you smile. How he made you feel. You loved him.

Hobi <3: ...yes.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

You: I love you, too.

Hobi <3: Oh thank God!

Hobi <3: I mean- Can I see you?

You tucked your phone away and shut your eyes. It was always easy contacting Hobi when you were calm, or, in some cases, in a state of absolute panic.

There was no one around you. The nearest crowd of people were maybe fifty feet away, so it was relatively easy to hear to gasp Hoseok let out when he saw you, sitting on the curb. You opened your eyes, and saw him standing before you, still dressed in the pair of jeans and white t-shirt he had been wearing at the end of the concert.

“Hey,” You said.

“Hi,” He replied, a bid out of breath.

“Where are you?”

Suddenly you weren’t outside the stadium anymore. You were inside, in a dark hallway. You could see the boys walking down the hall. One of them, Jungkook, stopped to stare at Hoseok. “What’s up, bro? Why are you just standing- Oh,” He paused to look at where Hoseok was staring. “You’re talking to Y/N. Sorry.”

“You can talk to Y/N later, we gotta go, Hobi,” Yoongi whined from Hoseok’s side. “I want to get back to the hotel and eat.”

“Right, the hotel,” Hoseok turned to you. “When can we meet?”

You shrugged.

“Stay where you are, I’ll find you,” And he was gone.

You drew your knees up to your chest and watched as Hoseok hurried down to hall, jogging past the other boys. Hoseok rushed towards a set of double doors, pushing through them and into the parking lot. There were vans waiting to take the boys home, and they promptly filed into them. Hoseok slid into the passenger seat of one of the vans and turned towards its driver - his manager. He pleaded with Sejin-hyung to help him find you, which you enjoyed watching immensely. The way Hoseok awkwardly kowtowed in the cramped passenger seat, repeating how, “I have to see her, Sejin-hyung. She’s the love of my life,” had you smiling from ear to ear. Sejin relented with a loud groan, and started the car.

Jin, Yoongi and Namjoon sat in the back, while the maknaes had piled into the other van and were promptly following them as they drove through the parking lot in search of you, sitting somewhere on a curb watching cat videos while you waited.

Hoseok stayed alert, his eyes darting across the parking lot in search of you. “You know,” Yoongi broke the silence that had settled over the van. Sejin-hyung had stopped complaining about Hoseok and his love life some time ago. “The fans might see us and crowd the car if we keep driving around the parking lot. Shouldn’t you guys meet later, like, at the hotel?” He ended his statement with a wiggle of his eyebrows. Hoseok ignored Yoongi, and Namjoon smacked him on the arm, and Sejin-hyung responded with, “Aish, you boys stress me out.”

Yoongi was right, because not a second later a wave of ARMYs descended upon the van. Sejin cursed out loud, stopping the van, and Hoseok began to whine. “No, no, no, no, NO!”

Meanwhile, your attention was caught by a van pulling up in front of you, its door sliding open.

“Hey, Hobi,” Jin called from the back. Hoseok hardly listened, instead sliding down in his seat with a cry. “I’m on the phone with Jimin-hyung. They just picked up Y/N and are heading to the hotel.”

“WHAT!” Hoseok spun around in his seat, screeching at the top of his lungs. “If Y/N is stuck in a van with those clowns they’re going to scare her off-”

“Wait, hold on, there is no way I’m letting you bring a girl back to the hotel, Hobi. I don’t care if she’s the love of your life-” Sejin went on.

“Oh come on, Sejin-hyung,” Yoongi continued. “The poor guy stayed a virgin his whole damn life because he’s in love with this girl. Give him a break.”

“Yoongi-hyung!” Hobi cried.

-

The ride to the hotel was a hoot. Jungkook was more than ecstatic to practice his English with you, and Taehyung and Jimin had more than enough questions about you and your relationship with Hoseok-hyung to last the entire car ride to the hotel. Jin stayed on the phone with the boys, having questions himself, and refused to let Hoseok speak with you because, “You’ve spoken with her for the past fifteen years, Hobi, give us a chance.” And when the boys learned that you were fluent in Korean, the embarrassing stories of Hoseok commenced.

Meanwhile, Hoseok drowned in misery in the passenger seat of his van, all while listening to Jin’s windshield wiper laugh every now and then, and, on occasion, an embarrassing story that had Hoseok reaching over the van to swipe at Jin.

Your van was the first to arrive at the hotel, having left the stadium before Hoseok’s. You insisted the boys go up to their rooms to rest, that you would wait in the lobby to meet Hoseok, but Taehyung  wouldn’t have it.

“It’s so great that you’re real and Hoseok isn’t crazy,” Taehyung spoke, cuddling up against you. Jimin sat to your right, and Jungkook was sitting across from you. The other van had been caught in traffic, so the four of you, plus some staff, were waiting in the hotel lobby.

“I can’t wait to tell my therapist. She thought I was crazy too. If she didn’t love me so much she wouldn’t have let me come to the concert,” You added.

The boys laughed, and you joined them.

“You know, Hoseok is really in love with you,” Jimin said, resting his head on your shoulder. “He won’t shut up about you.”

You smiled madly at that, your mind wandering back to Hoseok. The entire car ride had been spent talking about you, so you hadn’t really thought of him enough to form a connection. But then there he was, sitting next to Jungkook, wringing his hands together. You didn’t say anything, only smiled at him. Hoseok looked up at you, and returned the smile.

“Y/N!” Jin yelled, barreling towards you. Namjoon and Yoongi entered behind Jin. Before you could search for Hoseok, you were blinded by Jin’s broad shoulders, his arms wrapped around you. “I’m so glad to finally meet my daughter-in-law!”

“Jin, what the fuck?” Yoongi said, standing next to Jungkook.

“What, it’s obvious Hoseok and Y/N are going to get married. I mean, he did save himself for-”

“Where is Hobi, by the way!” Jimin cut Jin off, much to Jin’s displeasure. Everyone turned towards the entrance, where Hoseok stood, wide-eyed and staring at you. You felt the pressure of the room, but you also felt the electricity of being in Hoseok’s proximity, something you haven’t known for the past fifteen years. It was different at the concert. You had mistaken that weird sensation for seeing your favorite idol in concert for the first time, that giddy feeling you get when you attend the concert of your favorite group. But being in the same room with Hoseok was… surreal, and it almost scared you that touching him would be even more.

“Let’s leave these two love birds alone,” Jin said, breaking the silence. But to you and Hoseok, every noise, every movement apart from each other, did not exist. It was just the two of you in that hotel lobby.

When the boys had moved towards the elevators, still silently watching you, you opened your mouth to speak, but Hoseok beat you to it.

“You look nice today!” He blurted. “I mean, you always look nice. I forgot to mention it...before.” His eyes trailed across your face, lingering on your lips which he so desperately wanted to kiss, and finally resting on your eyes.

You smiled, “You look nice too, Hobi. You look handsome.”

Hoseok giggled, he fucking giggled.

“So,” You began. “Is it true what they said, that you’re a virgin?”

Hoseok’s face grew a dozen shades of red. He began to splutter, and it took him a moment to form a coherent sentence. “You heard that?”

“Jimin told me,” You said, hiking your bag further up your shoulder.

“I’m going to kill Jimin.”

Of course you always wondered if Hoseok was a virgin. When you were young and curious, you thought about Hoseok a lot in that way. To be honest, you were quite shocked when Jimin told you he was twenty five and still a virgin. The two of you knew nearly everything about each other, but not this. You had spoken about sex before, when you were young and exploring your bodies. But truth be told, you had no friends to experiment with, and Hoseok was busy being an idol trainee, so the two of you painfully stayed virgins. And you were both in love with each other. You knew why you had never had sex - you had avoided relationships because you told yourself it wouldn’t be an honest relationship if your partner didn’t know about your connection with Hoseok, and you promised yourself to tell no one ever again about that. You avoided one-night stands and hookups because even being intimate with some stranger for a brief moment gave you anxiety. Call you old fashioned but you wanted your first time to be special, and you only imagined that with someone you loved, you only imagined it with Hoseok. So you had resigned to the thought of staying a virgin for God knows how long, because you knew you would never fall in love with anyone else. But then an opportunity presented itself, and a part of you wanted to get it over with, because you imagined Hoseok had lost his virginity to some pretty girl. You remember the night you had the chance to lose your virginity to one of your close friends quite clearly. You were drunk and overwhelmed. You went home alone and had a panic attack. Hoseok was there. He was there. And it occurred to you, as Hoseok held you, that you couldn’t lose your virginity to anyone else, not when you were in love with him.

“I’m a virgin, too.” You said after a long pause.

Hoseok looked up at you, perplexed. He wanted to say that he was relieved, that he was glad you hadn’t had sex with anyone else. But it occurred to him that maybe you didn’t want to have sex with him either.

“Oh,” He said. “Why?”

You were caught off guard by the question, but answered it nonetheless. “A lot of reasons. But I think… it was because I wanted to lose my virginity to you.”

Again, Hoseok’s face became all sorts of red. “M-me?”

You nodded. “I love you, Hoseok. I’ve loved you for a long time, and before it was silly, because I figured I would never meet you for real. But, here we are…”

“Right,” Hoseok swallowed. “Here we are.”

“In a hotel,” You added. “Where you have a hotel room.”

“Shit,” Hoseok gasped. “Right, yeah, my hotel room!”

Hoseok began to flounder, so you took the opportunity to move towards him. In an instant purely fueled by adrenaline and the urge to get it over with, you kissed him. Hoseok froze, your touch electrifying him. You pulled away, a worried expression on your face. But your panic was cut short when Hoseok pulled you back into his embrace, pressing his lips against yours. He snaked his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel his heavy heartbeat against your chest, or maybe that was yours. You could feel him.

The kiss turned heated, Hoseok eager to slip his tongue into your mouth and explore it, to taste you, to feel you. His hands began to wander down your sides, down your back. You could feel his hardness against your hip, and it had you pulling away. You pressed your forehead against his, brushing your noses together, and gasped for breath.

“Let’s go upstairs, yeah?”

Hoseok nodded fervently, looking deep into your eyes. He gave your butt a quick pat, before tugging you towards the elevators, where you continued your heated kiss, all the way to Hoseok’s floor.

But a thought occurred to you, and you pulled away from Hoseok’s grasp. He whined, and watched as you pulled your phone out. “But first, let me send a selfie of us to my therapist. Show that bitch for doubting me.”

Hoseok smiled into the camera, then placed a wet kiss against your cheek. You giggled at the sensation, and quickly sent the picture to Pam. Hoseok pulled out his own phone when it dinged.

Jinnie: I slipped a condom under your door, Hobi. Safe sex is important!

You sat at the foot of Hoseok’s bed, in your underwear. The TV was on and you mindlessly stared at it, but your mind was elsewhere. It was with Hoseok, who was in the bathroom washing his face. When he emerged from the bathroom, your face lit up, and it made him smile that sunshine smile.

“Hello, my love,” You said, stretching your arms out towards him. Hoseok gladly walked into your embrace, bending down to press a kiss to the top of your head while you wrapped your arms around his waist. Pressing your nose against his stomach, enjoying the way the taut muscle felt under your cheek, you inhaled his scent. He still smelled of sex, and a little bit of his cologne, and a whole lot like Hobi.

Hoseok placed his hands on the sides of your face, gently tilting your head to look up at him. The way he touched you was always so soft, so gentle, as though he were afraid you would crack. You, on the other hand, touched him as though you were afraid he would drift away. You supposed that was what you were each afraid of.

“Jagiya,” Hoseok spoke. “Will you be mine?”

The biggest grin took over your face. “Hell yeah, I’m yours. Hobi,” You whined. “I love you.”

Hobi pressed you down onto the mattress, straddling your hips, and commenced placing wet kisses all over your face. You giggled, gripping his waist. “Hobi!”

Hobi stopped, hovering over you, a toothy smile on his face. “I love you,” He said. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” Hoseok leaned down to kiss you. It was sweet and soft, and it made your insides all warm and fuzzy.

You stared into each other’s eyes, and it was a feeling beyond any you have ever felt, to have him there, in your arms, to be looking into his eyes and seeing that the love he felt for you was real. Hoseok was real. Your love was real. Pam can eat shit for doubting you.

#j-hope #hoseok #hoseok bts #j-hope bts #j-hope oneshot #hoseok oneshot #bts oneshot #hoseok x female reader #hoseok x male reader #j-hope x female reader #j-hope x male reader #j-hope x reader

[onewhoturns]

fictober.23.: the first appointment

#Fictober19 Prompt: 23. You can’t give more than yourself. Fandom: Oxenfree Characters: Jonas, Duke (OC) Rating: T (no warnings apply) Tags: Angst-ish, emo Jonas, mental health & therapy Word Count: 2802

So... I'm posting this in order to maintain Fictober, but in all honesty this is actually a side scene/side story to a previously mentioned project that is still in the works and has yet to be posted. There may be some spoilers for the beginning of that fic. This is more an exploration of who this AU's version of Jonas is, how he's been affected by the things in his life- I'm calling it 'emo Jonas' but it may not be the type of emo you're expecting, I don't know.

If you want to read it when it comes up in the fic, it's looking like that would be anywhere from chapter 6 to chapter 9 (we're still in the midst of writing at the moment), and I'll update the summary and add it in as a related work when that becomes applicable.

For now, if you still want to read now (and it's cool if you don't), enjoy Jonas's first meeting with Duke, with no context to the rest of the story.

-

An appointment. ‘Like a doctor’s visit.’ Yeah. Well, maybe.

“Hey. You want to come on in?”

Jonas holds his breath for a second, standing from the waiting room to follow the man inside. The guy is in his early 30s, brown hair with a bit of gray starting in, just barely this side of messy, with glasses that look like he should be drinking craft brews at some gastropub in Portland. Duke. That’s a name, alright.

“Nice to finally meet in person.”

Jonas just nods. He’s not great at speaking to new people. Took him a couple weeks to start talking in intake. But he has kinda met Duke before. A pretty long phone interview, not to mention emails. They wanted to find a good therapist, and Camena had options. He’d settled on Duke.

“It’s nice to have all the paperwork out of the way already. Kind of a waste of session time, really.”

Jonas’s brows raise as he tips his head in acknowledgment and agreement.

Duke has a leg crossed over the other, and Jonas realizes, in retrospect, that the guy is actually his height. Maybe an inch shorter, but pretty damn close.

“How tall are you?” They’re the first words out of Jonas’s mouth, but they do their part.

“Six three. On a good day, anyway.”

“Nice.”

“Shoe size?”

“13.”

Duke winces audibly. “Damn, you beat me. 12 and a half.”

Jonas smirks a bit. And the ice is broken.

“You came from school?”

Jonas’s eyes wander to the side table between his chair and the unoccupied couch. He reaches for some kind of adjustable wire toy, turning it inside out and flipping it into different shapes. “Yup.”

“What’s your electives?” It’s a better question than ‘how was your day,’ at least. Duke’s foot is bouncing idly, as well.

“Gym and weight training; shop.”

“At CHS, right? Wilkinson still teaching wood shop?”

Wilkinson? “Yeah, I think that’s his name. Old guy, wears a lanyard with a whistle on it even though I don’t think he does any sports stuff?”

“Yep. He’s not too bad. Get him talking about baseball, that’s a thing. Does he still have that slugger in the workshop?”

“I… don’t know?”

“He’s got two, actually, I think. Louisville Slugger wooden bats, one official and one he made. If he still has it. I heard one year some kids stole it for a prank.”

“Kinda a dick move, the guy’s gotta be at least 70.”

“Yeah. Kids can be idiots. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Technically an adult, and I’d agree regardless.”

“When we talked before, you sounded kinda meh on the Individual Studies thing. How’s that looking?”

“It’s…” Jonas pulls a face. “Still meh on it. Some of the other kids are… ehh. Remind me of guys from North Valley, thinking they’re the shit. And the teachers - or whatever they’re called, aides? They’re a mixed bag. This one girl - woman, I guess - she seems pretty cool. Darcy. Good attitude, even if she seemed kinda fake at first.”

“I’m not sure I totally get what the course is, to be honest.”

“I mean, I’ve got three periods of it, it gets old fast. Though— I mean I guess they’re not all the same. First period for me seems more like… learning skills?” Jonas winces. “I dunno, it’s kinda cringey sometimes. And then third is gonna be assessment stuff— kinda miserable, just packets of standardized test questions and shit like that. Last period is chill though. Basically like a study hall for me, working on the stuff from the tests. And I’ve been getting out a little early, so I can-” He stops.

Duke waits a second for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, he lifts his chin from looking at the pad of paper in his lap (where Jonas can see little geometrical doodles as well as his illegible scrawl of whatever he’s noting). “A reminder; mandatory reporting doesn’t include stuff like truancy, just plans to harm yourself or others. And I consider ‘plans’ to actually mean plans.”

“So… there’s this girl, right?”

“A friend?”

Jonas hesitates. “Yyeahhh…”

“Or… sounds like maybe not just a friend?”

He shakes his head, “No, definitely just a friend, just… kinda insane.”

“Fun fact; ‘insane’ is really a legal term.”

Jonas rolls his eyes. “Kinda wild, then. Her and this other guy, too. They kinda like… adopted me?”

“Is that a positive or a negative?”

“I think it’s a positive? But— right, my point was, it gives me time to dip out the back and then meet them in the other parking lot.”

“Why the other parking lot?”

Jonas shoots Duke a flatly skeptical look. “Well they’re not gonna come meet me over in the ‘special’ wing.”

Duke huffs out a short laugh. “Wow, okay, strong feelings about IS are still there I see.” Even as Jonas is rolling his eyes again, he goes on. “So the wild duo. What kind of wild? You think they’ll get in the way of treatment?”

That makes him think for a second. “Um… no? I dunno. The guy is kinda stupid rich and somehow has a line to a shit ton of weed, apparently. Which could be a problem.”

Duke’s brows have risen high. “Could be, yeah. Does your JPPO do random testing? Think being around them could mess with your results?”

Jonas shakes his head. “Nah, they’re scheduled. Every other two weeks. And that should be done by the end of June, and the testing might be ditched entirely when we go down to only meeting once a month. Plus apparently he’s more of an edibles guy, so I’m not super worried about anything accidental. I can always just keep away for a few days before testing, shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Even though you’ve been adopted?”

He snorts a bit at that. “Guess I can’t know for sure. Not too worried, though.”

“That’s good. How exactly did you manage to get adopted?”

“The girl was my tour guide first day. I guess she thought I was cool, ‘cause she introduced me to her friend and… I dunno. We exchanged numbers and stuff. Texted. They’re kinda high energy for me, but also-” Jonas hesitates, rolling his eyes before continuing. “It’s weird, ‘cause Alex is kinda… popular? She’s a total dork, constantly jokes about being a witch, but it feels like everyone knows her? And likes her? It’s weird.”

“Huh. Are you saying you think they shouldn’t?”

“I’m saying…” Jonas shrugs. “Eh. She’s nice enough, I get that. But like… I feel like at North Valley she would’ve been… I mean, not disliked. Considered annoying, maybe, in large doses. Not exactly a class clown, but that same idea. More of a subject of entertainment than friendship.”

“That’s an interesting way of seeing things.”

“What do you mean?”

“Analytical.”

Jonas considers that for a second. “…Maybe? It’s just kinda how the world is, I’m not complaining about it or anything.”

“Are you unhappy about it?”

He shrugs. “No? Like I said; it’s just how it is. People offer certain benefits, right? Sometimes that’s, like… like someone who always knows the homework. If we’re thinking concretely here. And then there’s the one who always has a pencil you can borrow. —It’s like a study group sorta analogy. There’s someone who’s able to get everyone together at once, and someone who can talk to the teacher and argue on your behalf, but who you might not want to spend time with outside of class ‘cause they argue with everyone. And there’s a class clown type, who’s really entertaining but can sorta get in the way if you’re trying to be serious.” Jonas pauses again. “I mean, there’s a lot. But everyone kinda has their strengths and weaknesses, right? It’s like a teamwork thing.”

“So where do you fit in this?”

He thinks for a moment, still playing with the wire cage. “I dunno. I have a car.” That’s part of it at least, even if other things come to mind as well.

“You think that’s what people see you for? Your car?”

Jonas’s lips pull. “I’m not saying that’s my only redeeming quality, I know I’m not just some dude with a car. That’s just, like, the prime benefit.”

“What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your other ‘redeeming qualities.’”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m— I know I have them, okay? I’m- I have skills. But they aren’t- y’know, like, my function in a social group.”

“What if you didn’t have your car? You can’t give more than yourself— what qualities do you think you’re bringing.”

“…Alex seems to think my height is a benefit.”

“She obviously has not been 6’3 and attempted to sit in a compact sedan.”

Jonas cracks a smile. “Yeah it’s cute, she’s not tiny but both her and Ren are like… she said it before, I don’t remember what it was 5’5 or 6 or something. Joked about needing me to retrieve pickle jars or whatever.”

“So you’re the guy with the car and the pickle-getter.”

“Sure.”

“That all?”

“Well- I mean, the tall thing is also like—” he waves a hand, “-y’know, the other tall stuff.”

“Can’t say I know what you mean, apart from reaching things and being asked about the weather.”

“You know.” Jonas fidgets slightly. Duke has to know that part of things. “The kinda… intimidation thing.”

“How do you mean?”

Jonas’s lips pull again in that vague passing annoyance. “You know. Being tall and looking— not scary exactly, but like… imposing, I guess. Basically looking like someone you don’t want to mess with.”

“And that’s what you think you bring to a friendship?”

“Yeah. Like… like a bodyguard or something.”

“You think your friends are in danger you have to protect them from?”

“No- well.” He lets out a short sigh, a rueful smirk hooking his lips. “Not yet, anyway. And once they are, I’m betting they’ll have put themselves into it.”

“What does the whole ‘bodyguard’ thing mean, then?”

“Um.” A few images pass through Jonas’s mind, and he hesitates, face impassive for a second before he shrugs again. “Trying to keep her from getting hurt. I guess.”

“…That doesn’t really sound like something based solely on height.”

His fingers twitch, and Jonas’s ears feel warm. “Look, I spent a year in juvie for physical assault. It might not just be the height.”

“You think she wants you to fight for her? Is this like… an American Gladiators kinda thing, or…?”

The laugh is just a huff of breath, but the corners of Jonas’s mouth are lifting. “I don’t think she wants me to fight. I’m just— And I don’t want to fight!” he assures Duke. “But like… there’s probably some element of ‘this guy makes a good meat shield’ or whatever.”

“You ever think they might just… like you? Like just, as you?”

He snorts. “I— I’m not saying they don’t! I mean, at the very least they tolerate me, and I assume they must like me, otherwise we wouldn’t text all the time. It’s really easy to ignore someone’s texts and make excuses.” Jonas isn’t even mad about the question, it’s so far removed from how he feels. “I’m just saying that there’s this fringe benefit for them.”

“And is that how you see them, as well?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “Honestly, they’re my allies right now. Not in a bad way - I like them, they’re fun - but at the moment their function in my social circle is connecting me to my new community, right? They’re transitional aids, like a kinda PREP thing. Or IS. I mean, she was a tour guide.”

“Sounds kinda dehumanizing.”

“It’s not meant to be. I’m— Look, we talked all the time about support systems and community engagement, and buying in, right? So, I’m building a support system of peers.”

Duke cocks his head, looking mildly bemused.

“What?”

“It sounds like you know the words pretty well.”

“Yeah, well. I didn’t talk much. Mostly listened.”

“Is that really how you think about the people around you? As… I don’t know, bricks in your support structure?”

“I mean, it’s not the only thing I’m thinking. I like the company, I like the distraction, they’re fun. But…” Another one-shouldered shrug. “I dunno, man, call it a justification if you want.”

“What do you mean?”

Jonas sighs. “Gives me a reason to keep trying.” Again, it’s not said in anger, or even in sadness. Just a straightforward factual statement.

“What would you do if you didn’t think of things that way?”

“Can’t know for sure, obviously. But— I dunno. Call it distress tolerance. Giving them a function gives me a reason to tough it out. Like—” He pauses. “…Yeah, no, I can’t figure out an analogy for the brick thing. Sticking with people instead of being— transient.”

“Transient.”

“Kinda drifting around. Moving through things.”

“You think you’re transient?”

“I think I’d survive without friends. Until shit started to go wrong, I guess.”

Duke is quiet, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to parse the statement, considering. “…I’m not sure I get it.”

“I like people, but all the— politics, I guess. It stresses me out. I’d rather just… not. At least, in group things. School, juvie— the social dynamic is this constant thing where you’re maintaining. Don’t shit where you eat and all that. Don’t fuck it up, you’re stuck there. All this work to not make things worse for yourself. Honestly, I’d rather just see people when I see them. All day every day is… a lot.”

“…Can I ask you a question?” He’s leaning forward, and his tone is a different kind of curious than he has been.

“I mean… that’s literally all you’ve been doing.”

“Your residential center, your stepdown stuff— they had GED programs. Why come back to high school?”

Jonas is spinning the little wire toy around one finger steadily, keeping an eye on it to avoid having it fly off, even as he picks up speed. “Dad wanted me to.” His stomach dips, and his voice is a little quieter. “Mom would, too.” He’s silent for a second, still spinning. “And it’s supposed to be good for me. Community engagement, support structures, all that.”

“Why do you think they wanted you to do school?”

“I mean, my mom was a teacher. My dad… just wants me to be well-adjusted. I think he wants me to feel normal again.”

“What do you think?”

Jonas’s gut has been steadily, gradually, slowly but surely filling with lead. He breathes evenly. Too evenly. Actively making the attempt. When he speaks, it’s a low mutter. “Not sure that’s possible, if we’re being honest.”

“Why not?”

He shakes his head. “I dunno. Things just— changed. Can’t really undo that.”

“…I mean, I agree that you can’t live in the past. Things happened, you can’t undo them, but you also can’t spend every minute thinking about them. I know mindfulness tends to get a bad rap ‘cause it’s sort of trendy in the mental health field right now, but there’s definitely a ton of upsides to it.”

“I’m… vaguely familiar.” Jonas’s voice is a bit wry.

“So you know the whole idea of where you’re living. The goal is being present. So not living in the past, or in the future, but in the here and now, without judgment.”

“…Okay…”

Duke is still bouncing his foot a bit. “What do you think? Like— really consider it for a second. What that means.”

“What, living in the present?” Duke shrugs in a casual kind of confirmation. Jonas sighs, fixes his eyes on the therapist, and tries to do as asked. “…I guess I just feel like that’s asking for trouble.”

“How so?”

“I mean… thinking about the future is kinda important. Otherwise you fuck things up and can’t undo them.”

“Who says you can’t?”

Jonas snorts. “You? Like… a minute ago?”

“I guess— maybe it’s just the use of ‘undo.’ You can’t rewind and make something not have happened, but you can control how you handle the consequences, how you potentially repair the situation, your reactions to things, all of that. But if you’re constantly fearing every possible outcome of anything you do… you do nothing.”

“So you’re saying not to think of consequences. You want me to just go party and violate parole and not care what might happen?”

“Well, no.” Duke actually rolls his eyes. “Hell— it’s a delicate balance, right? But some part of that has to be just allowing yourself to exist without judgment.”

“O…kay?”

“Or analysis.”

“…Ah.”

“I mean, it’s not like I’m advocating underage drinking or drugs or truancy or anything, but… You’re out, y’know? You’re in this do-or-die headspace, but your situation has changed dramatically. Now’s your chance to go back to being a kid. Live a little.”

[source for AO3]

#fictober19 #oxenfree #jonas oxenfree #oxenfree fic #my writing #mach3 #cjgj #prompt fill #kinda

[taelaxies]

s e s s i o n s | conflict (II)

Remember I told you I’m not good with words? Well, your dress is not helping me. 

intro (I) • conflict (II) Summary: One final session? You could do that. Unfortunately (or not?), destiny had something else planned for you and your handsome fake patient. Genre: Angst || Warning: Mature language, mentions of sex. Pairing: Jungkook x Reader.

A/N: Second part of Sessions, with no numbers on the title because I’m too cool for that. Just kidding (or tried). I hope you enjoy it. ♥ Words: +3K

Google had solved many of his problems before: from the name of a song to ‘How to tie a tie?’. But when he typed “Is it possible to fall in love with your therapist?” and pressed search, Jungkook could not feel more pathetic.

He met you a little more than a month ago. He did not know anything about you, only the fact that you were not an ordinary therapist. How could he be in love with you? It made no sense. It did made sense for Google though, articles said that patients feeling love for their therapists were not that uncommon - it was easy to feel love for someone that listens to you and understands you.

Could that be it? The way you listened in ways Yoona didn’t.

Jungkook pressed his forehead against your door and waited. He had just finished practice and his hair was still wet from the shower he took thirty minutes ago.

He didn’t know exactly why he was standing there that night, not a session night, and especially after you had rejected him last time he saw you.

“What do you say about scheduling more sessions together? Just you and me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jungkook”

Well maybe it was just a professional opinion you had. It had to be, right? You could not even imagine how scared he was to ask you for more sessions, and how hurt his pride was after you said no.

He shook his head and stepped away from the closed door. You probably were not there and he was waiting for you to appear in front of him like an idiot.

Oh, but you were there.

You watched him give up and leave - from the peephole of your door, holding your breath even when you knew he couldn’t hear you breathing from the other side.

You were afraid that Jeon Jungkook was getting attached to you.

That could not happen, he was your friend’s boyfriend in first place. Second, you’ve been lying to him from the moment he met you. And third but not least important, you could not let yourself get emotionally attached to him too.

You messaged Yoona one hour later, after thinking what to do. You had to end the plan before things became more complicated. It should be easy, you thought, you had given Yoona enough information - more than what she had originally asked from you.

That’s why you were surprised when you heard her on the other end of the line, sounding mad at you for some reason.  “Why?! He’s been better since he talks to you, at least he isn’t playing games all the time.”

“Yoona, you know I’m no therapist right? I’ve already done what you wanted and I’m not feeling comfortable with this anymore. He’s a good guy, I’m sure you can fix things on your own.”

“Wait.” You heard her get away from the noise at the back, and you imagined she was at one of the sets from her new drama, “You said you’d help me, so you’ll do it. One more session. Find out the reason why we don’t fuck anymore, and your stress bullshit is not valid. And then we’re done.”

You rubbed your hands on your face and squeezed the phone against your ear. One more session? You could do that. After five sessions what harm would only one more do? “Just one.” You stated.

“Good. I’m at work, I’ll talk you later.”

From that day until that final session, you studied like there was no tomorrow. You kept your mind busy with books and classes, avoiding TV as much as possible - afraid that your fake patient’s handsome face would pop on screen. Or worst, your so-called friend.

Just like you had surprised Jungkook with your methods on his first session, he had a surprise for you this time.

He didn’t show up. He didn’t call. Nothing at all.

You should have felt relieved, you wanted to end all this lie anyway. But you were sad, staring at the empty red chair in which he used to talked to you about his life.

You waited. One hour. Two hours.

And then your phone vibrated on your desk.

Yoona (10:47 PM) Y/N! Forget about the session. I don’t know what you did but we have just fucked like crazy!!! Seriously you’ll be the greatest therapist ever.

Your eyes read the lines over and over again, trying to understand how you should feel about this. That was the point, right? Your friend getting her boyfriend back. Maybe he had realized how much he loved Yoona and that was what he wanted to tell you the other night he was waiting at your door. So, it was a good thing. Everything went according to the plan.

At least that was what you told yourself. If there was something you had learned from this, is that Jungkook was a good guy and your friend was… a possessive, insecure but pretty woman? Being her friend, you had never noticed it until now - how she controlled him and even controlled you, pushing you to your limits even when you did not want to.

But this situation, they fucking like crazy while you stayed alone in your apartment, was what it was supposed to be. You did a good job, whatever it was.

Yoona woke up that next morning with an undeniable satisfaction written on her features. Things were going exactly the way she wanted, and she expected them to be the golden couple again very soon. She bit her lip, remembering their wild night, and buried her face in her pillow.

Jungkook had already gone to work and she was about to do the same - it was late. Being an actress was her dream since she was a baby. Of course her dream did not include the diet, the gym and the media pressure - but she was happy anyway.

“You look stunning today, did something happen?” Her manager wiggled his brows at her. Minho had been her manager since the beginning and he knew about her life even more than herself.

She was getting her hair and makeup done, and glanced at her reflection on the mirror.

“I always look stunning.” Yoona giggled. “I think Jungkook and I are back on track. Last night was…” she rolled her eyes and her assistant tried to continue applying eyeshadow with a frown.

Minho’s eyes opened widely and a victorious grin lighted up his face, “Finally! We should arrange some events or photoshoots together. The therapy thing worked!”

“Yeah it did. But I think we should keep it private for now. Jungkook doesn’t like exposure and I don’t want to fight him right now that things are better.”

“Doesn’t like exposure!? He’s an idol!”

“That’s what he said to Y/N” she explained and shrugged.

But Minho was right, they hadn’t attended to events together since the beginning of their relationship so they should do it soon.

For two weeks, Yoona planned her next move and decided that the first person who should know about it was her savior: you.

It was a Friday night and you were buried in papers and books, studying for your next exam. Your eyes were tired, your hair messily tied up in a bun and your pajamas covered your body loosely.

There was a knock on your door and you prayed for it to be just the delivery guy.

It wasn’t.

“Oh girl, you look like shit.” Yoona examined your appearance from head to toe and gave you a pity look.

“Thank you, you know how to cheer me up.”

“Y/N, that’s why I’m here. May I come in?”

You nodded and stepped aside with a sigh. She entered and you closed the door behind her, quickly fixing your bun in the process. She looked like a supermodel as always.

The universe was laughing at you: you watched her take a seat in non other but Jungkook’s red chair. Suddenly you were afraid of being asked for another favor. You gulped and sit on your couch.

Yoona remained silent, maybe waiting for you to ask her how her relationship was doing. But you didn’t want to know how better they were because of your lie. Instead, you offered her a kind smile and asked, “Do you want some coffee?”

“Ah… I’m okay, thank you.” she pressed her hands together and crossed her legs, “I’m actually here because I want to invite you to a party! Take you out from this… nerd cave?”

A party? She was inviting you to a party? You cringed. “I like my nerd cave.”

“Oh please we are young and attractive and… Look, it will be something private, a lot of famous people there - but just friends. Maybe your future boyfriend…” she smirked smugly.

You arched a brow at the thought. ‘Famous people’? “So, Jungkook is going to be there?”

She nodded. “Yes, It’ll be our first event together in a long time. You know something private for him to get used to it again.” She explained like that was something obvious.

“Are you insane? You want him to know we are friends? Why would you invite your therapist to your private party? Think about it for a second. Terrible idea.” You stood up and made your way to your kitchen. You needed a shot of something strong but the only drinkable thing you had was coffee or water. You poured it on a mug and shouted, “Forget it, I’m not going!”

“Oh please! Y/N!” She watched you return with your hot coffee and a frown on your face. “Jenny said it would be a good idea to have a girls night again.”

“Jenny’s right” you agreed - you really needed a drink, “but that is not a girls night, it’s Jungkook’s and yours.”

Yoona sighed and finally admitted to herself you were right. She scanned all your psychology books and you, surrounded by them. “Maybe we should go clubbing?”

She said the magic words. You wanted nothing more than things going back to how they were. Having some drinks with your friends and listening to good music sounded like a good idea to you. “When?”

“Now? Look at you, wearing your PJs and studying about insane people a Friday night. I know a place, you should call the girls.”

You missed enjoying your time with Yoona, like you did before getting involved in her love life. You laughed at her when she chose a dress from your closet for you to wear. It was the shortest you had, you had worn it only once for a party. “Do you want me to get pregnant tonight?”

She burst into laughter and handed it to you, “I just want you to get laid tonight, no babies.”

The club she picked was what was called “VIP”, and people seemed to know her enough to give you and your friends ‘free drink’ coupons.

With a drink in your hand instead of your coffee, and a good looking guy dancing behind you instead of Freud and his texts, you felt like a young woman again. Jenny winked at you and raised her drink in your direction. You grinned and did the same, taking the final sip before your cup was empty. You didn’t know where Yoona was, since the place was full of people and your friends and you had lost each other.

The guy dancing with you offered you a drink, which you refused saying that you were about to buy yours and that you’d be back in a minute. You tried to break through the crowd towards the bar, with a coupon on your hand. After asking the bartender for a 'Sex on the Beach”, you turned around and waited for your drink with your back against the counter - scanning the club full of sweaty bodies and loud music.

You squinted your eyes at the sight of a wide back dressed in a black shirt that looked familiar. The man was at the tables section from the back, opposite to where Yoona had her own. The guy suddenly laughed and turned a little, allowing you to recognize his profile. You were ninety percent sure that he was Jin, from BTS. You knew him, everybody knew who he was. And the fact that Jin was in the same club as you, also meant Jungkook could be there too.

The bartender touched your shoulder and pointed his finger at your new drink. You nodded and gave it a long sip, feeling your heart panicking at the thought of Jungkook seeing you there. Or you seeing him. You didn’t know what was worse.

You needed to find one of your friends and tell them you had to leave. Or maybe just leave and text them later. Anyway, you had to break through the dancing crowd again - towards the exit this time. You finished your drink, leaving the empty cup on the counter and feeling ready to get out of there.

Walking between heated and probably horny bodies moving against each other should be considered impossible. One moment you were pressed against a woman’s back and then you were pressed against a man’s chest, as your feet tried to find the empty gaps on the floor for you to walk. It was hard to breathe, but you were halfway to the exit. You searched for any of your friends around you, but you couldn’t find them.

“Y/N!?” A male voice shouted from behind you.

Shit. You knew it. Your luck never changes.

You ignored the call and tried to keep moving, looking desperately for a way out.

And then you felt it; a pair of hands circling your waist from behind and holding you in that place. You looked at him and suddenly you felt the urge to run. Jeon Jungkook was looking at you, wearing a white shirt that sticked to his body because of the sweat.

He was saying something to you but you could not listen, partly because of the music and partly because your brain was in panic mode.

He touched your hand with his slowly and intertwined your fingers, pulling you in his direction and walking together all the way back to the bar. You couldn’t stop shaking your head, trying to let him know that you were not okay with that. You freed your hand from his clasp and he darted a confused look at you, with his lips slightly parted.

How many times were you going to reject him? Jungkook tried to take your hand again, but you did not let him do it. You had that short tight dress, unlike anything he had seen you wear before and it was driving him crazy.

He just wanted to talk to you. Seeing you outside the office and not in one of your sessions - in that same club, could not be coincidence.

He saw you turning around and trying to get lost in the crowd again, but he stopped you grabbing your wrist this time, and pulling you against his body. “I just want to talk to you, Y/N” he said loud enough for you to hear against your ear.

“We’ve talked enough!”

“I need another session with you!”

“You had one, three weeks ago! Then you didn’t came!”

“I need it right now, Y/N.” He said, licking his lips and glancing around nervously.

“What!? Now? Your girlfriend is here, you should go talk to her and not me, Jungkook.”

He opened his eyes in shock and his jaw clenched. He turned around, trying to reach the bar again, and taking you with him.

You stopped fighting him, tired and with your feet being killed by your heels.

It clearly seemed that Yoona was not the only one with contacts in this place, since Jungkook signaled the bartender that prepared your drink before and the guy nodded.

You two were now behind the bar, entering a room that you guessed it was a storeroom full of alcohol.

Had he been there with other girls before? You guessed not, he looked embarrassed - like the first time you saw him, it was a deja vu.

You could still hear the music from outside but it was easier to talk there. He cleared his throat and stared at you, his eyes eyeing you from head to toe just like his girlfriend had done hours before. “Remember I told you I’m not good with words?” he started, taking several steps closers and pushing you against the closed door. “Well, your dress is not helping me.”

 His lips brushed against yours, and you felt him hesitate before opening his mouth and devour your lips slowly. You froze, feeling something in your stomach you could not tell if it was because of the kiss or just the alcohol.   His hands travelled from your neck to your hair, suddenly gaining more confidence when he felt your lips responding to his. 

He interrupted the kiss and spoke - the words burning on his tongue, “We won an award last week. And you were the first person I wanted to talk to about it. I don’t want to play games anymore because you played with me. I fuck my girlfriend desperate to get you out of my head, because it scares the shit out of me. I think I’m losing my mind - so tell me, don’t you think I really need another session?”

 He stared at your glossy lips he had just tasted and then he met your wide open eyes, “You make me feel good about myself like no one does and I want to get to know you. Please don’t reject me again, I want to make you feel good too.”

 “Was that what you wanted to say that night? That night at my door?” you blurted out.

 “You were there?” 

You did not know what else to say, everything you were afraid of - was happening. Your sight blurred because of the tears, when you realized he really had genuine feelings for you. You, a liar.

If you told him the truth, that was going to be the end of his relationship with Yoona and you would never see him again. Part of you wanted that.

“Oh please don’t cry.” He pouted, “I don’t want to make you cry.”  It was you who did not want to make him cry. But you were going to.

#bts fic #bts angst #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #jungkook angst #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #fanfiction #bts fanfic

[thepondonthemoon]

Chasing Tails - 1

A/B/O alternate universe  Everyone-has-tails AU  Alpha! Sasuke, Omega! Naruto Cat! Sasuke, Fox! Naruto 

NO MPREG 

In a society where male omegas are unable to give birth, Uzumaki Naruto is ostracised for being a ‘defective’ omega. With his parents dead, he suffers from nightmares and despite a loving adoptive father and best friend, he is left to believe that he will never be able to find an alpha who will accept him for the individual that he is. 

Uchiha Sasuke never planned on taking a mate, instead finding the very scent of omegas to be revolting. But as he finally surrenders to the pressures of his father to hold a ceremony for the pure purpose of obtaining a mate, he may find this decision to be life altering. 

... 

So..uh... yea was meant to study but ended up starting another fic cuz I got inspiration for this soooo.. yea. Hope you enjoy :3  Please validate this waste of time by giving me a note ^w^ thanks!! 

Click for Chapter 2

Laughter. Naruto peeked out from behind his mother’s legs as the sound rang through the air, stirring a sense of curiousity and longing inside the five year old child. A smile graced his lips as he bore witness to the scene, his eyes twinkling with excitement as his white-tipped orange fox tail swished behind him. A group of children were running around, seemingly partaking in a game as their tails danced around in glee. “Go on”, a hand nudged Naruto forward as he glanced up at his mother’s warm smile. “You want to play too, don’t you?” she asked. Naruto slowly nodded, his swiftly wagging tail betraying his excitement at the thought of joining the other children.

Naruto slowly left his mother’s side, his footsteps increasing in length as he ran to play with the group of kids, the smile on his lips breaking out into a grin as an emotion bubbled up inside his throat. Laughter, what a happy sound it is, he thought as the emotion flew out of his mouth in the form of a sound. Laughing, he turned back towards his mother to see her smiling at him before being dismembered into several pieces, a smile still upon her lips. Naruto watched paralysed from fear, his laughter echoing through the scene mixing with the screams of his mother as blood spurted out of her body, painting the ground like an abstract artist aiming to depict the pain and fear coursing through his soul.

Naruto stared, unable to rip his eyes away as the same group of children that were playing crept towards the corpse of his mother before ripping into her flesh, gore covering their faces and teeth as her bones flew through the air. Suddenly, they stopped, as eerily as a piano screeching to a halt in the middle of an instrumental solo. Abrupt. Their faces slowly raised up from their meal as their eyes simultaneously fixed on Naruto and they smiled, as if desperate to display the pieces of his mother sticking out between their teeth.

“Stupid male omega”, a girl giggles.

“Useless”, a boy snickers.

“Couldn’t save his own mother”, another voice pipes up.

“Can’t give birth”, one more piles on.

“Defect of nature”, another adds to the list.

“Really, you should just kill yourself”, they chorus, their smiles disappearing as they slowly crept towards him in a motion reminiscent of that of a predator stalking his prey. Naruto had to move, he had to move, he had to move, he had to move NOW. And yet he remained paralysed as all but one jumped onto him, their teeth ripping into his flesh as his cries of agony rang through the air, his throat an instrument playing a haunting melody. The laughter had stopped.

xxx

Naruto woke up in a sweat; hot and cold flashes abusing his body as he gasped for breath, the rapid pounding of his heart and shivers wracking his bones doing naught to help. His mind swirled in nausea as the images from the dream attacked him again and again; the sneering voices of the children leading him down the path to darkness, to the hell filled to the brim with suffering and insanity. No. No. Naruto couldn’t go back there. He couldn’t. He couldn’t. Yet despite his fervent resistance, he was unable to slide out of the grip of his nightmare. Screaming and screaming and screaming and yet not a sound could exit the constricting confines of his throat. Help me. Save me. Please. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t save me save me save me save me someone anybody please help me-

“Really you should just kill yourself”, a boy snickers.

Naruto broke. Tears streamed down his face as he writhed in his blankets, his hand ironically grasping his neck as if he could release the pressure that had constricted his throat to the size of a needle. Choking. Drowning. Suffocating. He watched in fearful agony as every insecurity he’d had rose out of him, congregating into a massive black blanket above his head before crashing down on him. Merciless. Like the waves of the ocean in a storm punishing each ship that had dared to challenge it. Dragged deep underwater into comforting nothingness after suffering through the painful ordeal of gasping for air only to be met with water. Calm. Naruto closed his eyes, embracing the sluggish slumber that had befallen him.

A crash echoed through the water, residing as a subdued ringing in his ears. But Naruto was so tired; tired of reliving the same nightmare, tired of being ostracised, tired of living. It all just seemed so tedious compared to the appeal of drifting away from it all on the big fluffy cloud he seemed to be on. Yes, finally, uninterrupted sleep, he thought as his consciousness gave out, not having enough energy to process the running footsteps or the shrieks of “Naruto!” in his ear.

xxx

Iruka yawned as he awoke, his body alerting him to its need to be hydrated. Sighing, he rolled out of bed and started walking towards the kitchen of his apartment, still half asleep but unable to ignore the state of his dry mouth any longer. Upon arriving at the kitchen, he yawned again and as he grabbed a glass, his heavy eyes slid shut, slackening his grip on the glass. CRASH. His eyes flew wide awake as the shattering of the glass echoed through the apartment; his brain suddenly whirling with the brief onslaught of adrenaline as his body reacted to the loud sound. Sighing at the break of yet another glass, he slowly relaxed before picking up on a familiar sound.

Iruka’s mind raced in both confusion and desperation as he stood there in his 2 am deliria, struggling to focus on what he should do and yet being unable to pick out the one thought from the thousands of ideas running wild in his head. A loud thump finally struck him into action upon realising the true danger of the situation. “Naruto!” Iruka shrieked as he ran into Naruto’s room, heart pounding with fear as he saw Naruto’s body lying on the floor. Hands trembling, he slowly placed two fingers on Naruto’s throat, and upon feeling a pulse he sighed, his entire body sagging in relief and his brown wolf tail relaxing as the tension escaped. Quickly, Iruka grasped Naruto’s phone - which was sitting on Naruto’s bedside table - and called for an ambulance. As the signature siren sounds approached, Iruka placed Naruto upon his bed and smoothed out the disturbed ruffles in the orange tail, wincing as he discovered each new knot and knowing that this situation could very well have resulted in the death of his adopted child. After all, Naruto’s tail was abnormally attuned to his emotional state, a condition that no doctor had ever been able to diagnose.

xxx

“NARUTOOOOO!!!”

A loud familiar voice echoed in Naruto’s ear, followed by something heavy landing on his body. Wincing, Naruto awoke only to discover his best friend, Sakura, laying on top of him; her brown wolf tail with pink highlights wagging behind her in concern for her friend. Upon realising that Naruto was awake, her eyes glinted in excitement as a ramble of questions tore out of her mouth without any regard for the drowsy fox struggling to gain a sense of his surroundings.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh my god what happened?”

“Iruka told me you could’ve died; I was so worried”

“By the way he had to go to work so you’re stuck with me for now”

“How are you feeling?”

“Do you need to schedule another appointment with that wolf shrink?”

“Do you need to-”

Naruto tuned her out, opting instead to glance around his surroundings and upon noticing the familiar white, sterile walls he breathed out a prolonged sigh. That same nightmare that had haunted him ever since the death of his parents was making a reappearance, indicating that unfortunately his heat was only a week away for reasons that, yet again, no doctor or therapist had been able to determine. As a male omega, Naruto was unable to give birth to fertile offspring due to the lack of a proper internal environment and as a result, he was often observed as ‘useless’ to society. After all, what good was an omega if it couldn’t produce children to carry on the alpha’s bloodline? Fortunately, he only went into heat every year or so, as compared to female omegas who had to deal with their heats every 3 months.

Still, Naruto envied Sakura, an omega lucky enough to be born female, and with her shiny, fluffy tail there weren’t many alphas that wouldn’t crawl across shards of glass just to gain the chance of a bond with her. In this society, the appearance of the tail as well as the ‘pure-blood’ status marked the desirability of an individual.

A ‘pure-blood’ referred to a person with an extra chromosome termed ‘Chromosome R’. Such a phenomenon would be impossible, or would usually result in the formation of a retarded individual, making pure-bloods quite rare to come across. However, this extra chromosome was able to carry genetic information from the person’s lineage - indicated by their tail or ears - allowing the individual to gain certain characteristics that were above the ordinary for a normal person.

Naruto sighed almost in defeat as he stroked his fluffy fox tail. He had long accepted the fact that society would never accept him, nor would an alpha ever want to take him as a mate and yet the idea of complete rejection struck a chord with the omega within him. Well, he thought glancing at Sakura, at least he had a friend as well as Iruka, his adoptive father.

A small phrase that exited the pink-haired omega’s mouth finally caught his attention.

“Hey remember Uchiha Sasuke? I heard that he’s finally holding a mate ceremony!” Sakura jumped around excitedly. It was easy to see that she was smitten with the Uchiha.

“Ah, yes”, Naruto recalled drily. The Uchihas were a prestigious family where every member had carried Chromosome R, and as a result all carried traits from their ancestral animals, which only gave rise to their reputation as one of the oldest and most ancient families in the town of Konoha. Uchiha Sasuke was the youngest son of the family, and with his sleek, black cat tail and dismissive attitude it was no wonder that all the omegas salivated over claiming the alpha for themselves.

It was common for such traditional families to hold ceremonies for their children as they came of age, usually at the age of 18, to provide them with a mate of their choosing. Interestingly enough, the much desired Sasuke had refused the idea of such a ceremony, and yet here he was, announcing that he was now ready for a mate at the age of 21.

“Tch”. A sound of annoyance exited Naruto’s mouth at the thought of the black-haired alpha, a sense of uneasiness and frustration spreading throughout his body for no apparent reason. Surprised by the small sound, Sakura glanced over at the blonde before a giggle erupted in her throat.

“If I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you hated the guy”, she grinned.

“Huh?” Naruto snapped back. “Of course I hate him! Everyone’s always like-”, Naruto cleared his throat before raising the pitch of his voice and twirling imaginary hair. “Sasuke’s like, he’s sooooo hot like, oh. My. God. So hot!! Like did you like, even see his tail!? Sooo shiny and nice and I bet I can totally make him fall in love with me hehe”.

“Hahahaha well, you’re not wrong”, Sakura laughed before grimacing, “That’s actually exactly how Ino acts, that bitch”.

Naruto smirked. “You know, if I didn’t know you any better, I’d say you hated the girl”.

Sakura stared at him in disbelief before sighing in frustration. “Ughhhhh oh whatever fuck you too. Main thing is that I’ll be attending the ceremony as a suitor so you better be there to support me”.

Naruto rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah fine. You sure being seen with me won’t reduce your chances?”

Sakura glanced over at the blonde, his orange tail swishing nervously despite his nonchalant attitude. She smiled eerily, “Any person stupid enough to refuse to look past your physical appearance can go fuck themselves. Seriously, people don’t give you enough credit which is unfortunate”.

Naruto sighed, almost sagging in relief before smiling at his friend. “Thanks Sakura. Of course I’ll support you. After all, Uchiha Sasuke is supposedly one hell of a catch huh?” He winked at her, ignoring the twitching of his tail as he uttered those words. “When is it anyway?”

“Oh it’s actually just next week”, Sakura replied animatedly, before launching into a rant about the unfairness of the short notice.

But Naruto’s mind was elsewhere, too focused on the thought that the ceremony had happened to perfectly line up with the timing of his one heat in the entire year.

#naruto x sasuke #sasunaru #sasuke x naruto #abo au #au #fanfiction #tails ftw #awww fox naruto

[hazeshi]

My therapist called and I told her I was good . Even though I’m not really sure I truly am.

My brother is having psychotic symptoms again . I didn’t allow myself to feel all day . And I hate that I’m slave to my emotions. I hate that I lie . I hate that I feel so deeply.

I’m good , inherently good, I care . Its a good thing.

I’m supposed to ground myself right now but my head is all over the place . I’m rewriting this cuz I deleted everything by mistake .

My aura is soothing, I love deeply, I also feel deeply . Its a good thing.

I studied well today .

I took a shower and I cooked .

I talked to my mom , I love her.

I’m better than last year, its progress.

I can cry , I can feel bad , its okay , its okay .

I’m crying right now that’s good thing.

Today was bad but I did everything within my control and managed to stay on schedule for my finals.

People love me , my friends love me , my parents love me , I love myself even when I don’t.

I deserve to be loved I’m good.

I’ll feel tomorrow and the day after but I cannot control it. Its okay . I may feel good tomorrow insanely good but if I feel insanely low its okay too .

I do not have the control . And its okay . Its normal .

What can I control?

Sleep , I got trazodone.

Study, schedule

Showers

Food

My breathe

How much I use my phone

I’m okay I’m okay I’m okay I’ll be okay

#trazodone

[bending-sickle]

H’okay, I have a bone to pick with Dexter season 6 (eps. 11-12) which requires more words than previous exclamations of  “wtf” and “zomg”.

Now, this will revolve around incest framed in a real-world setting (and not, say, omg i need thor and loki to get down and dirty or but the delicious angst of sam and dean). 

Background: Dexter was fostered into Debra’s home at age 3 and officially adopted at age 7. Best reddit guess puts Debra at 4 years younger, but they are certainly close in their ages. This means that they have been siblings - and raised as such - for their entire lives.

Now, have some scenes*.

Michelle Ross, therapist: From what I do know about you, you feel things very deeply.  Like your bond with Dexter.  Where do you think that stems from?

Debra Morgan: Maybe because he's the only guy in my life that I haven't dumped, or cheated on, or isn't dead.

Michelle: Is it possible that your feelings for Dexter are the reason that you've chosen men in the past who have been either inappropriate or unavailable?

Debra: Because they're what? Not Dexter? That's insane.

Michelle: Is it?

Debra: He's my brother.

Michelle: Yet you're not biologically related.

Debra: So?

Michelle: It would be understandable, given the past traumas the two of you have shared, for you to develop complex feelings for him.

Debra: Why the fuck are we even talking about this?

Michelle: You mentioned Dexter. He comes up in these sessions a lot. Aren't you curious as to why that is?

Debra: He's a huge part of my life. That's it. End of story.

Michelle: You getting upset?

Debra: Fuck, yes, I'm becoming upset, because you're making it sound like I want to be with him or something.

Michelle: Well, do you?

Debra: Look I love my brother, but I am sure as shit not in love with my brother, if that's what you're getting at. We're done here.

Can I get a big fuck you to the therapist apparently suggesting and encouraging their patient consider an incestual relationship with their sibling? On zero grounds? Because, again, they were raised from toddlerhood as siblings, have always considered each other as siblings, and what the fuck does them not being biologically related have to do with anything. How the frick frack fuck would it be understandable?! For them?! To?! Develop complex feelings?! Incesty feelings?!?

The Westermarck effect, or reverse sexual imprinting, is a hypothetical psychological effect through which people who live in close domestic proximity during the first few years of their lives become desensitized to sexual attraction. This phenomenon was first hypothesized by Finnish anthropologist Edvard Westermarck in his book The History of Human Marriage (1891) as one explanation for the incest taboo. Observations interpreted as evidence for the Westermarck effect have since been made in many places and cultures, including in the Israeli kibbutz system, and the Chinese Shim-pua marriage customs, as well as in biologically-related families.

[...]

When proximity during this critical period does not occur—for example, where a brother and sister are brought up separately, never meeting one another—they may find one another highly sexually attractive when they meet as adults or adolescents, according to the hypothesis of genetic sexual attraction. This supports the theory that the populations exhibiting the Westermarck effect became predominant because of the deleterious effects of inbreeding on those that did not.

There is so much else to unpack here.

First of all, understanding her relationship with her brother was not the reason why Debra went into therapy, nor is it something she laid out as something to deal with. This is the therapist simply going, “Hey, you talk about your brother a lot - maybe you’re secretly in love with him.”

Which, okay, way to completely misunderstand a sibling relationship much?

Also? How fucked up would your patient be if you told them, “hey, it’s not technically incest” and encouraged them to follow this train of thought? When they never showed any inkling of it?  I mean, way to potentially harm their relationship with their sibling and sole remaining family member.  

So cue Debra being all messed up about this, and then having a romantic or sexual dream featuring Dexter, then having so. much. awkwardness with her sibling. 

Then this:

Debra: Dex! I got a report that your boat had washed ashore.

Dexter: I'm OK. I'm OK.

Debra: Kept calling your cell phone, there was no answer. God, you can't keep doing this to me. I've almost lost you twice. I love you.

Dexter: I love you, too.

Debra: You do?

Dexter: Of course I do.

Debra: I don't think you've ever said it before.

Which leads us to this:

Michelle: Debra, we can schedule a time. 

Debra: I told him. I fucking told my brother that I love him, and he said "I love you" back. Not, "Me, too," or something like that. He actually said, "I love you."

Michelle: Wow.

Debra: That's big, isn't it? Yeah, I mean, I don't think he understood that I'm in love with him, but still, he said the actual words for the first time.

Michelle: So what do you think it means?

Debra: I don't know what the fuck it means. That's why I'm here. Is this just horribly wrong? 

Michelle: Does it feel wrong? 

Debra: It makes my whole life every man I've ever loved, make sense. It's like I've always been looking for someone like Dexter or someone who's the opposite of Dexter as a way to avoid the fact that I'm in love with him. That's just clear to me now, and I want it to be clear to him. I want him to understand.

Michelle: OK. You want to tell him how you feel in a way that he can hear you.

Debra: Yes. Is this how it feels to be in control of your emotions?

Michelle: But you can't control his. You don't know how he's going to react.

Debra, darling, love. The words “I love you” are not magical, and can indeed be uttered platonically. As between siblings. Which you two are.

And Does it feel wrong? lady: what the fuck. It’s her brother? Brooothhhhheerrr. Of course it’s doing her head in, biologically related or not,

Also, ahaha, talk about a theory that can’t go wrong: “I've always been looking for someone like Dexter or someone who's the opposite of Dexter”. So, like, that’d include every single possible male. Every human male on the planet would fall in one of those two mutually-exclusive fields and would thus confirm your theory? I just???

And ffs, “You want to tell him how you feel in a way that he can hear you.” Maybe talk to your fucking patient a bit fucking more about all this - how she feels, what kind of fall out she can expect, whether confronting him is a thing she even wants to do...

I’m just agog with the huge mess of terrible therapy right here I can’t even.

eta: As for “inappropriate or unavailable” boyfriends, Brian was a fucking catch. He was totally appropriate and available. (Sure, he also happened to be a serial killer, but she didn’t know that, so her choosing him had nothing to do with him being ~inappropriate or unavailable~.)  I’ll give you Anton the unofficial CI as inappropriate, although that inappropriateness didn’t last.

* Full transcript here.

#sickle watches dexter #and is shocked and appalled at the therapist #i mean wtf #randomness

[a-running-bean]

A hospital gift guide

So you have a friend, family member, loved one or acquaintance who’s sick or injured and has been hospitalized. You want to bring them something special to cheer them up, but you don’t know what in the world they could use or enjoy while they’re stuck in the hospital. I’d love to recommend, from personal experience, some gifts that were especially useful or enjoyable while I was hospitalized for 3.5 weeks!

- Socks: Use your imagination! These could be warm wool socks, slipper socks with grips on the bottom, fuzzy spa socks, or socks with images or sayings on them. They will keep your loved one’s tootsies warm and cozy (especially if they only have one sock-wearing foot, like me), and will also lift their spirits. I received a special pair from my boss, Jill, that read “I’m a girl - what’s your superpower?” Those socks inspired me to start Funny Sock Fridays when I was in inpatient rehab, where I wore one interesting sock every Friday to serve as a conversation starter with therapists and nurses. I also received a beautiful striped pair of extremely soft socks from my BFF Rya, which have kept my one foot super warm and happy while I recuperate in my parents’ freezing cold house. If you know they have a cast, consider buying some oversized socks — or really stretchy socks — so that their exposed toes and the end of their cast can be covered as well.

- Blank cards, stamps and a nice pen: I was completely overwhelmed by the love and generosity that I received from so many different people when I was hospitalized. I wanted to write a thank-you note to each and every person who visited me, mailed a card, or sent flowers or a gift. (I was also on a pretty heavy dose of strong painkillers for quite some time, so it was a major struggle to even remember who sent which of the five floral arrangements in my hospital room. Oops.) I was gifted a variety of blank cards and some stamps from my best friend and her mom, Shelby and Judy, as well as my dad. Those came in handy when I wanted to send mail to thank someone for their gift, write a birthday card for my boyfriend (yes, both of us had our birthdays while I was hospitalized... bummer), or connect with a new pen pal (hi Jessi!). Although your loved one in the hospital may not “have it together” enough to write thank you cards to everyone on their list, giving them the tools to send out some mail could be much appreciated. (Hot tip: Target often has blank note cards in their $1 section near the front of the store!)

- Blank journal and pen: While I have chosen Tumblr as my platform for working through the ups and downs of my rehabilitation process, others may want to put their experiences down on paper instead. Gifting a nice notebook and a pen will give your loved one the opportunity to chronicle their own journey through illness or injury. They may want to document the event or illness that landed them in the hospital in the first place; remember the names of favorite doctors/nurses/therapists at their facility; keep a log of gifts and cards received (for future thank-you note usage); develop a schedule for taking medications or completing their prescribed exercises; or write down goals for their recovery and for the future. Those blank pages hold a world of possibilities.

- Lip balm and lotion: I have never felt more dried out in my life than during the 3.5 weeks I was hospitalized. It could have been the hospital air, it could have been the hearty pain medications... whatever the cause, my skin and lips were flaking and peeling like I was trapped in the desert without water. Trust me, males and females alike would both be reaching for the moisturizers if they were in my position, so don’t fret if your hospitalized friend happens to be a dude. Just get them the goods. My favorite lip balms are the original Burt’s Bees (peppermint flavor) or Chapstick (cherry flavor). For an amazingly non-greasy, quick absorbing hand and body lotion, I recommend Gold Bond Ultimate Healing Lotion with Aloe. It has a nice light and fresh scent that’s perfect for either ladies or gents, and it works like a dream.

- Books or magazines: This one’s a little trickier, because you have to know what kind of reading material they prefer. Knowing their hobbies and interests helps, because you can bring magazines or books on related topics. I can give you a reading list that’s a mile long, if you need personalized recommendations.

- Pajama pants, yoga pants, or sweatpants: These don’t have to be my favorite $98 yoga leggings from Lululemon... just an inexpensive pair from Target or TJ Maxx will do! Pajama pants, yoga pants and sweats have a loose, wide leg opening. These are usually easy for your loved one to put on in bed and will definitely fit over a cast. Once the patient has regained more strength and mobility, they may want to wear bottoms that are slightly more form fitting, so leggings or track pants could be a good option.

- Tumbler or water bottle: While I was in the hospital, a fresh Styrofoam cup of water was delivered to my bedside every few hours, whether I had finished the previous cup or not. Styrofoam... nature’s best friend... NOT! Help your patient save the planet and gift them with reusable drinkware, so they can ask their nurse to refill that instead of filling a trash can with unused foam cups every four hours. I had the good fortune of receiving a cup holder for my wheelchair, and my mom bought me a cool sugar skull tumbler from Target, so wherever I went, I had my own water cup. It was awesome.

- Hat or headbands: Gotta hide that bedhead and/or third day hair grease! I received two nice wide Buff headbands from my friends at The Summer Camp Society and they were AMAZINGLY HELPFUL while I was at Mary Free Bed. When I was first learning to shower myself again, I was scheduled for night showers and didn’t have the energy to blow-dry my hair before bed, so I’d wake up with crazy bad bedhead. I also didn’t want to get up early to get pretty for a long day of physical and occupational therapy (who did I have to impress in rehab??), so being able to run a brush through my hair and slap on a nice wide headband was awesome. I have a big, round head, so headbands usually slide off, but those Buff headbands stayed. put. I also love wearing hats, especially when I have “day three hair” (ladies, you know what I’m talking about), so my birthday gift of a Roga Cap came in handy a few times. Thanks Mom and Dad! (If you are a runner, know a runner, or just love insanely comfortable hats, get a Roga Cap and thank me later.)

- Dry shampoo: This is helpful for guys and gals alike. Just ask my boyfriend — I’m pretty sure I’ll have to start buying 2 cans of Batiste at a time because he uses mine so frequently. If you don’t use dry shampoo now, you should become a convert. It is life-changing. (I recommend the Bare scent if you want something light and fresh, or Wild if you want to keep catching whiffs of your hair all day and thinking about how great your head smells.) Having this in the hospital was wonderful because I could give my hair a quick touch-up to make it last until my next shower. After a certain point, you start to feel like yourself again, which means all of your silly vanities return — like plucking your eyebrows and worrying about if your hair looks too dirty.

- Bath products and nail polish: On a similar note, a small luxury like nice bath products or nail polish can make your loved one feel like a million bucks. I would have LOVED to use smelly-good shower gel instead of the standard issue hospital soap during my 2.5 weeks at Mary Free Bed. If she is able to shower in the bathroom, ask her what her favorite Bath and Body Works scent is and bring in some shower gel. (This gift may not be appropriate if your patient is still taking sponge baths in their hospital bed.) One of the first things I wanted when I got to MFB was a manicure... but I couldn’t leave the hospital just yet. Fortunately, my amazing friend Sophia came by and gave me a mobile manicure. She did an incredible job; my nails were chip-free and flawless for the entirety of my stay at MFB. That did so much to lift my spirits and make me feel normal and pretty again. (If you live in or near Grand Rapids, call up Manic Muse and make an appointment with Sophia ASAP!)

- Gift cards to their favorite stores: Let your loved one do some online shopping from their hospital bed! A gift card is not a cop-out... sometimes it’s nice to let them pick out what they want, instead of trying to guess. Go with an Amazon gift card if you’re not sure what they like, so they can order books or gizmos or new sweatpants. Online shopping is like a gift to yourself because, even though you know exactly what you ordered, it’s very exciting when your package arrives. Everyone knows the feeling. I was so grateful to receive a Oiselle gift card from my Michigan Volée teammates while I was staying at Mary Free Bed. Because of them, I was finally able to order a shirt I had been wanting for months. Thanks, birds!!

- Cozy throw blanket: Michael brought me our furry, fuzzy Michigan State throw blanket from home, and it made my hospital bed feel so much more like MY bed. Stores like Target, Home Goods (TJ Maxx/Marshalls), or Meijer sell inexpensive, cozy throw blankets that will brighten up your patient’s room and give them something to snuggle with in their bland white hospital bed.

- Some of their (or your) favorite snacks: Snacks are nice to fill the space when hospital meals aren’t cutting it. Although I initially thought MFB had a great menu, I quickly got tired of eating the same few palatable options and found my tummy rumbling in the afternoons. Fortunately, I had a whole drawer full of snacks to choose from, thanks to wonderful friends and family members who brought food during their visits. My friend and coworker Tesi gave me a hilarious gift when she visited: a Trader Joe’s bag full of her family’s favorite snacks, along with the instructions to report back on what my favorite snack was. (Nutty Bits for the win!) Ask them what they’re craving — for me, it was extra toasty Cheez It’s — or bring them a few options, both savory/salty and sweet, if you’re not sure what they like.

Hopefully you will find something on this list that will turn out to be the perfect gift for that injured or ill special someone. And send them my best wishes when you visit! xoxo

#hospital #gift guide #shopping #hospital gift guide #wish list

[whatrealityisthisagain]

Please Remember

Please remember,

16 months ago, I was engulfed by a suffocating fog. I was afraid and was searching for a reason-any reason- to fight on. To keep living.

14 months ago, I flushed every pill I could get my hands on because I knew I was getting close to using them all. I did everything I could to never be alone. I tried to talk to people and explain what I was thinking and going through, only my therapist and best friend listened without judgment- even listened at all. Without brushing it off or making it seem like I was overreacting when I was barely scraping the tip with my words. I believe that people were afraid of how I was talking. Of what I was saying, and trying to remind me of who I was and how strong I was, but it had the opposite effect. It made me feel weaker. It made me feel pathetic. I just wanted - needed to be acknowledged, validated, needed to be support. I hated myself. I put myself in every dangerous situation I could. If I didn't kill myself, no one could be mad right? If someone does it for me?

13 months ago, I tried to get checked into a mental institution. Not because I wanted to live, No - on the contrary, I was praying for death. For some random disease or poison to take me out. I wasn't afraid to die, I was afraid of what my actions would do to others. I couldn't convince my doctor. But kept researching to see if I could check myself into one. Thinking about what I could do that wouldn't hurt anyone but would get me omitted to an insane asylum. I kept trying to call people to just find motivation. To know that I'm loved and cared for. That I'm worth sacrificing for just like I would for each and every one of them, but everyone was always busy on my worst days. In my most painful moments.... even when I tried to explain that I just needed their reassurance... so many people promised to be there if I ever needed someone. When I was deep in the clutches of my fog. When I needed someone most, they were almost always too busy to talk... on the rare occasion I did talk to someone, I felt they weren't listening or didn't care. Because of the comments they were making, the way they weren't taking anything seriously. Telling me I just needed to deal with it. To just keep going. Making light of the situation... it hurt. Even when I'd beg and plead to just be near someone, to spend 2 hours with them watching a movie, or go on a quick drive- I had to move my schedule for them. It was agony physically and mentally. I had an epiphany. No one understood, and that was fine. But very few people even tried. It wasn't their fault, but it wasn't worth it to keep trying to stick around for them when none of them took me or my pain seriously... Especially when I went to Hell and back for each of them already multiple times... They didn't deserve me. And I'd like to see them experience what I'm in, what I'm feeling and handle it half as well. 13 months ago, I stopped being afraid.

12 months ago, I couldn't find reason. I stopped looking into mental institutions. I stopped looking into help. 12 months ago, I decided this world doesn't deserve me. I knew I'd be missed. I knew it would hurt some people forever. I knew some would hurt so much that sometimes they wouldn't be able to breath. Just like I couldn't now. I knew some people would blame themselves. But I knew life would go on. Just like it had been. 

So I planned everything. I filled up my gas tank. Had my portable gas container. I went about my day smiling. Still stuck in the intense thick fog, I went about my everyday tasks like normal. I woke up on time, went to my therapy appointment, gave my doctor my papers to take leave from work- just because I knew I should, but it was only a formality. To make sure no one got suspicious - though I doubt anyone would have noticed.... Perhaps subconsciously it was my last plea for help. After, I was going to poor gas in, around, and all over my car. I was gonna get some explosives after the appointment as well if I could. Then drive off a cliff and then use my lighter to blow myself up. I'd be able to fly and go out with a bang. I was even gonna call the cops so they could be the first to the scene. All of my letters, all of my messages were saved on my phone and google docs. Hell, I was even thinking about posting it all on FB to make things easier! I did have letters for specific people as well that I'd send before my drive. Probably right after this appointment. 

Then, something happened. 

My therapist didn't ask any questions. He put his pen on the paper, and suddenly I saw clearly. The moment the ink touched the paper, my fog was gone. My hearing was fine. My brain was clear. My sight was crystal clear. So I decided to try. 

To go with it. 

This next call definitely wouldn't work anyway. 

I called my doctor. And I got an appointment in a few minutes... I was still skeptical but went in anyway. I handed him the papers and felt like I could breathe the second his pen started to scratch on the paper. I was in awe. 

So what next? 

Then I went to work. I gave them the papers. When getting them weeks before, hr had told me it would take 8 days to approve. But he approved it all then and there... 

11 months ago I went to Texas. I needed my sisters. If anyone could make me see my importance it was them. I told them about my plans. About my trip. Then I drove across the country. Without a fog. In Texas, I was still misunderstood. I was told to control my emotions and used as a chauffeur. When I brought this up, the response that I got? "I thought you were here to spend time with us". Texas didn't fix me or save me. Texas only proved I was right and solidified my plans to leave earth and never come back. No one was willing to skip work or school to help save my life. To help give my life meaning. It hurts like hell when I helped send my older sister to Guam for my younger sister's dying light.... but even though my light was extinguished and I was right there, no one was willing to take the time to spend with me. 

I decided then, that I was done. I would say and do what I wanted because I'd be gone in a month anyway. I'd say things how they were, and I wouldn't sugarcoat to avoid hurting feelings. My filter dropped. Or maybe it shattered. I didn't care. I wasn't afraid. I was pissed but mostly numb. 

It wasn't until 3 months ago. Three months ago when I actually found my desire. Actually accepted that I wanted to try to keep living. I discovered it on my own. Now I have people around me acting like nothing happened. Like it was just a normal year. No one realized the extent of how gone I was. Of how hard I was fighting. No matter what they say, they don't even come close to trying to understanding how bad I was. 

I know it’s okay not to understand certain things, but here's the thing: I was done. I dead. I was ready to seal the deal. I was one hour away from killing myself. I was saved by a pen and a stack of papers. I'm surprised that that saved me, to be honest. I was an hour away from driving off a cliff. From leaving this world-this hell behind. I was begging for death, for uncalled accidents for months-if not years. I was an hour away from never being seen, heard, felt on this world ever again. Just like a gunshot to the head. Just like vertically slit wrists. And I even thought about both of those. I searched the house for any pills that would seal the deal a month before my appointment. I even thought about going to buy some, the only thing that stopped me was how drained and exhausted I was from the constant fight. I researched and looked for poisons. For anywhere that sold arsenic or cyanide. THAT is what everyone was telling me to deal with. To get over. To stop being so dramatic. That is what people kept telling me was no big deal. Wanna know what I heard. "You're not worth the time" "you're weak" "you're not needed" "you're stupid" "stop bugging me" "your life doesn't matter". 

Yes, it's been 16 months. Yes, I've overcome so many overwhelming mountains it's ridiculous. And I'm going to do everything not to go back. I promise, that if I go into that fog: I'm done. I won't put up a fight. I'm going to surrender, and end it. I've already killed myself to survive. If I go back, I promise that no part of me will make it out alive. That pain isn't worth living through twice.

Yes, I'm strong. Yes, I look and act okay. Yes, I've changed. No, I'm not okay. I'm still broken. I've overcome so much more than should be possible in a year. In. One. Year. It's normal that I haven't mended. What's NOT normal, is how much progress I have made in one year. What's even more of a miracle than that? The fact that I'm still alive. That I'm on this earth breathing. So to everyone, I may seem to be overreacting. To everyone, I may be really whiny and complainy.  To me, I'm bragging. To me, I'm still alive and trying to keep it that way. To me, I don't give a damn what others think. Because I had to go through that shit myself. To me, my presence doesn't mean very much to others so their opinions don't mean much to me. That was proven to me when I needed support the most. To me, I'm a fucking hero. And I was forced into that role. 

-whatrealityisthisagain

[smilesandcurls]

09 October, 2017

So I fell off the wagon, didnt remember to write about my weekend. I've decided to put a reminder on my phone to do my entries into my new "journal", life journey. Because, it only dawned on me this morning how much I need this to work, and more importantly work effectively.

My subconscious, coinciding with my body lets me know when something is wrong, I've come to realize. I was irritable all day today; sweaty palms and just a general uneasiness and unfocused throughout. Throughout the day, my primary thoughts was my if its a gd idea to have my therapy/counselling ever restarting is something I'd like to do, how's my baby sister ( who's actually 17 years old ) and my mother getting into it, this threesome idea my boyfriend is pushing and my closest friends Kenlyn, Keane and Jerry, and, ofc my severed relationship with people who used to be dearest to my person, my twin sister Alisha and Yokell, who used to be one of my BEST FRIENDS and maybe even an unproclaimed lover a few years back. Ive also been thinking about doing a nude photoshoot, oh, and of course this peculiar and honestly totally unnecessary "relationship", or lack thereof, with a girl by the name of........ We'd just call her Kay. These ideas seemed to plague me of recent days for you obvious reasons.

Therapy/counselling and I have a "comme ce comme ca" type of relationship. For those of you who may read this and isn't aware of what that means, it means "so so" in French. I've never seen the used for it as I was under the impression it was unneeded and counterproductive. I also have a lot of bad connotations and memories related to such. Personally, I've looked at it from all angles and as much as I think because I'm now, finally, open to it it may work, however the universe is trying to tell me something; every time I've scheduled an appointment for the past month something goes wrong, usually with my therapist and/or her family, and we have to reschedule. Since the month began I haven't been to session, however, I was doing peer counselling with some old friends for two months prior to moving into a more personal setting and I must say, it did help. I don't know if its the fact that I was speaking to a friend or someone I looked up to that took the pressure off my thoughts and opinions, or if it just felt like I could finally find genuine Guidance and objectiveness but I did open up a bit, mostly about my relationship with my boyfriend, which was falling apart at the time and about my relationship with my mother. Until those session, I wasn't aware that my relationship with my mother and my boyfriend became synonymous. My first thoughts about restarting is what about journalling my thoughts and experiences and I have, maybe, 2 session a month OR maybe I should just continue peer conselling maybe now, with my actual best friends and not persue personal counselling at all. Having two session a month may be best in my opinion as I would have already thought things through and I'd have another party to either validate my thoughts or show me where my thought pattern may be unhealthy and wrong. Someone who would allow me the space I need to feel and think through issues without the pressure of immediately finding a solution, which was a large issue my boyfriend and I had until recent. I truly feel like I'm at a place where in capable of dealing with my issues mostly in my own, with the help of someone to help navigate my thoughts and feelings until I'm capable of doing both on my own, if the day would ever come.

My mother and baby sister have had a pretty wishy washy, mostly the latter, for as far as I could remember. She was never "a favourite" of my mother's, they rarely ever agreed on the same things and their attitudes towards each other is, and always has been truly disgusting. However, as of recent years, its truly gotten worse, which I never thought would happen because of primarily two reasons, my mother is an adulterous whore and she doesnt pay much, if any attention to Azariah at all. Let me first say, my mother, according to many therapists and research of done via the internet and her mental medical history, has a personality disorder. Which one or two or more, is up for debate. Personally, I believe she may have split personalities with acute bipolarism and she may even be schizophrenic. So, truly, I've come to realize,many times, her actions and what she says isn't her own fault. My mother has struggled with relationships since her and my father got divorced and has since self sabotaged many if not all of her relationships since then. And this relationship, she has had with my "stepfather" for the past 8-10 years have been no different. She's cheated on him with multiple men, and she hasn't been able to ever trust him fully since they've been together. Their relationship falling apart wasn't entirely her fault, as he was always absent, and dismissive. They've recently called it quits and since then our family has basically fallen apart. I, however, am grateful for this as it has caused my biological father and I to become closer and maybe even mend a bit of our issues and my mother and I have also reconciled our broken relationship. Azariah hasn't been able to do this with either of our parents, she hasnt entirely emotionally developed over the years and truly isn't capable of reconciliation due to this. This also serves as the reason why she hasn't been able to forgive my mother for her failed relationship with our "stepfather", whom, if I didnt mentioned, she's very fond of and quite literally refers and thinks of him as our one ans only father figure. She's extremely attached to him and has taken his side in the breakup, being even more volatile to mom. Because of this, she now lives with my twin sister Alisha, who eeveryone knows is a bad influence on her. We were trying to get her to live with me but because of my "alliance" with my parents she's being resistant which is making this process of custody a lot harder and emotionally draining on myself. Everything is extremely hazy with everyone's relationships within out strange family as of recent apart from my relationships with everyone, with the exception of Alisha and my "stepfather". I have generally good relationships with everyone, communication wise anyway. Maybe its best if they don't speak to each other in depth until she's healed herself from the many years of neglect and miscommunication with mom because its proving to be toxic, their conversations that is, as of now.

This threesome. God help me. My boyfriend has been pushing this as of recent, for the second time. Maybe its because we're "okay"/ "better" now that he thinks its okay to bring this back up again but I'm not ready for this yet. Right now, I'm just healing, or trying to anyway, from the hurt of the past few months between him and I, also, from the rest of my life with my parents. I've put everything and everyone's wants and needs before my own and thanks to him and counseling I've realized I need to put my needs first for a while to be the best version of myself I can be. I feel dismissed by him bringing this up again, it just feels very selfish for him to do this at this point. I should mention, him and I are in an open relationship so I'm sure the next thing I say would come as a shock to you all now, but my thoughts are, if he wants a threesome so badly, he could rounds up some other bitches and leave me out until I'm ready to move forward with this idea. Granted, I did entertain this idea previously because I did want to please him and at that point I felt like it was the only way I could think of but I'm thinking of me now and that's not gd for me at this point. I'd never stop him from doing what he truly desires so I understand if he chooses to move forward with it but at thus point, I'm not open to this idea until I've healed from the emotional and psychological abuse of the past few months with him.

Truly, one of the greatest joys in my life are my amazing friends who've stood with me since we've formed these unions. There's honestly not much I could say on this other than. I love them and I truly do need to be better people and friends to/for them. Especially Keane, my truest companion. I truly would more than likely be anorexic and maybe even insane without him. I owe him EVERYTHING I am and have. Not to discredit ANYTHING my boyfriend has done for me, because without him I'd also be much worse, psychologically weak being the main thing. My boyfriend has done everything I could ask, and more of any partner I've ever had and I'll more than like continue to live my life trying to repay him in anyway I can, which is, as I've realized extremely unhealthy thinking, which is why we ended up with so many issues in the first place. He is truly the most extraordinary person in my life without a doubt but he/we have our kinks as any other couple does. My friends deserve nothing less than the best, regardless of if thats me or someone else and I truly hope that if its not me they go out and find it regardless of if it hurts me or not. And that also goes for my boyfriend.

Alisha and Yokell. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss them as much as I love them. Alisha, my twin sister, and I haven't seen eye to eye or even been friends for about 5 years now. She's had two children and is only 19 and I haven't been able to accept this of her to this day, which, more than likely, is half of the anger I have towards her. She was in an abusive relationship for about 4 out of the 5 years her and I have had issues. In my opinion, she's a younger version of my mother, minus the adulterous whore part. Ive made my peace with our relationship never reconciling and even the fact that she may never be grateful to me for all I've done for her growing up. I've extended my hand to her on numerous occasions to fix things but I do think its for the best that we don't have a relationship. Its only going to be filled with animosity. Yokell on the other hand, my unproclaimed lover, as I've mentioned him prior, don't have a relationship anymore due to the fact that he was/is madly in love with me and I'm in love with someone else, my boyfriend who's a friend of his for years prior to my knowing either of them. The issue at hand is ever since he essentially asked me to choose between him and my boyfriend he's been terrible depressed, according to popular belief of course, and is terribly reclusive. I've been struggling to accept that thus is no fault of mine but I do believe I am responsible. Maybe if I'd told him I had feelings for him when I first discovered them things would be better, maybe if we actually had a conversation about everything or even just try to figure what is neat for us both we wouldn't be here. I truly believe I neglected him and the entire situation as I never really reached out to him past that "ultimatum" he gave me out of respect for my current romantic relationship. I've been trying to figure out if I should try to be a better/bigger presence in his life but there truly is nothing I can do really other than be in skl more often or message more and hope he responds. Unfortunately I don't know if I'm even prepared to do this at this particular point in my life.

I honestly wasn't happy with myself or my body until I started modeling, hence the thought of a nude shoot being considered. A final step to acceptance of myself in every flaw and imperfection I may have. I've already ran the idea by my boyfriend, who has yet to respond, and I'm ready for this to happen but I won't do it if he's uncomfortable but I do truly want to do this. This isn't only for my exterior but for my mental and psychological health. I've grown tremendously over the past few years and I'm proud of where I am. I'm in the right environment to go only up from here in every aspect of my life and I'm proud of myself.

My boyfriend had this odd encounter with Kay a few months into our relationship in that she was throwing her at at him and when he was about to act on it she pulled out and freaked out because not only did she have a boyfriend but she saw me as a friend. Ever since then she's totally avoided me until, I'm guessing, she made peace with it with her partner and herself, and has yet been being excessively "buddy buddy" with me as if nothing happened. I truly am not upset the situation itself,between her and my boyfriend, however, you CANNOT play me like that. LEAVE ME OUT OF THE SITUATION. DO NOT TRY TO BE FRIENDS WITH ME AFTER YOU WERE BEING FRAUDULENT. Anyway, I've been battling with myself and my boyfriend as to if I should "make and issue" of it or not. I'm truly fed up of her constantly trying to push a friendship with me. Its getting old and I'm losing my cool. I'd rather she just leave me alone and pass me like a bus but she isn't facilitating this and all I'm left with is being abrasive and rude towards her. I wished someone would just speak to her before I do because it would be nasty. I've thought maybe I'm over reacting, which I possibly am, but, I'm at my wits end and I'm truly not too sure how much longer I can keep this up.

In conclusion, I've realized based on today I've become much better dealing with my anxiety as I didn't reach for my anti anxiety meds during the day. However I did find another way to deal with these issues, I surrounded myself with friends and activities throughout the day, especially after work. I went to a football game, I had a friend over with my room mates of course, always showering me with affection and we played cards and watched movies until really late. I couldn't sleep well however, which is something I need to work on

[princessintraining]

A million years later, I FINALLY posted the explanation as to why Nagito Komaeda is the way he is. Everything below is from the original post I’ve written so it explains the format and such but I hope you enjoy!

———————-

Just a little drabble I did that was originally supposed to be an Komaeda x Reader fic but soon became a thing that explained Komaeda’s mind through his POV based on my theory of him. I put myself into his mindset to write that part but later on though, it goes back into Komaeda x Reader format. I hope you enjoy this as much as I loved writing it! ^w^

~Tori-chan

————-/—————

“You’re not trash!”

This was the third time around that I heard this today, but really, what do they know? I’ve become accustomed to hearing those words over and over again this pass year that it just leaves a dull sound in my ears. Naturally, when they first uttered that phrase, I was taken aback,

“You’re not trash”

Only once it became repetitive, once I knew that she was trained to say just that, it didn’t impact me the same way anymore. In fact, it became so tedious that I would just fabricate a smile and thank them for their words just to get it done and over with. If it made them believe what they were saying helped, I didn’t mind lying to them, granted that I was able to leave early. I just adapted myself into accepting that this would be part of my usual schedule, a minor set back to my day-to-day cycle of Luck. I would’ve said “my daily cycle of life” but realistically, I don’t have a life, I only have my Luck.

See, Luck is Ultimate Power. It’s the great unknown. People aren’t actually in control of their lives; they can only trigger the chain reaction of what’s to come. In the course of time, it only boils down to their Luck if it settles in the end. People lack control over Luck either as it happens by chance, leaving themselves vulnerable to their what’s actually occurring underneath. Luck can either ruin your life with a flick of the finger or completely change it towards the better. Scientists, philosophers, they all are capable of solving any mystery that is thrown in their path, but this is one topic that they haven’t been capable of explaining. So, instead of having a decent grasp at the subject, they’re left in the dark, just like me to an extent and that can be frightening to some, if not all. Not knowing what will happen next if you left it alone can infuriate anyone, so imagine how I feel for that very reason since my talent is the Ultimate Luck. That’s the reason why I try anyway to stay in control! I try to guide my good or ill luck through my actions because at least I’ll know what kind of Luck I have in store next! Just kidding! I read it off a book I read once, sounds pretty convincing right? Anyway, Luck is so powerful that even my demise could happen at any moment but I would be unaware of it! That’s why I need control over my luck, so at the very least I understand that if I would die, I would die off my own terms, not my Luck. To be frank, I’m content with my actions may it lie at the past, present, or future if it meant I held the reins of what had happened for just a moment, not my luck.

I could never explain this to the therapist, I could never explain this to anyone in fact, as if I did, they would never believe that it justified what I’ve done, even if the main purpose was to create the perfect stairway made out of stepping stones so that the Ultimates could walk towards True Hope. I could blow up the entire school in order for them to become closer to it, to diminish their Despair, but they still wouldn’t understand. Hope, even though they don’t believe so, is the most important thing in world next to Luck! It’s the only thing I have to turn to and it’s the only thing that will turn out right in the end! In the darkest of times, through the greatest Despair, Hope will always shine through, beckoning those to come forth and push through till the end!

At least, that’s what I’ve experienced. You may not know it from just looking at me, but I’ve been through some pretty Despair-inducing times. I recall one time when I was flying to San Cristobal with my parents on vacation, a hijacker took control of the plane my family was on and used my head as a source of threat. You should’ve saw me at the time; I was a pathetic mess! I was sobbing uncontrollably, drool and snot were running down my face, it was definitely a sight to see and anyone who knew me at the time expected that of me! It was selfish to bring all of the attention to me when their were people more worthy on that plane to have that attention, such as the Ultimate Adventurer! So I had made sure to stay monotone the next time I was held hostage.

Anyways, while I was having my meltdown, just my luck! A meteor the size of a baseball came hurtling down into the hijacker’s skull! Bad luck didn’t spare me that day though as my parents were too close to the hijacker from trying to bribe him to set me free and were instead struck by the meteor as well! So once he collapsed onto the floor, I ran back to my seat and strapped in my seat belt as the plane started losing turbulence. I cried the whole time. The plane crashed but I was the only one who survived! It took awhile for a rescue team to find the crash but once the did, they found me and took me to the nearest hospital. Once there, my luck had struck again! I was able inherit all of my parent’s fortune and gained independence! At that time though, I was unaware of my own luck cycle and the importance of Hope but when I was kidnapped during middle school by serial killer, I started to find out about it!

How you may ask? Well, when I was stuffed into a trash bag and thrown in the dumpster, I found a winning lottery ticket for three million yen! At that moment, I realized that these events that kept happening to me didn’t seem coincidental, but rather, it seemed as if it was happening on purpose. Just my luck! A cycle of Luck to be more precise, but it was from that day on that I knew that with all of the good things I kept receiving, I would to have Bad Luck later on in return. Think of it as the Law of Exchange.

Even to this day, I still don’t fully understand it. I always think, am I really Lucky? In those situations, it wouldn’t seem like that, but in the end, it always works out my way because of my so called “blind faith” towards Luck. I don’t really agree with that statement of “blind faith” as I already know it exists! I’ve already witnessed it’s effects on the world and on myself! So by saying that I have “blind faith” towards my luck cycle, it’s like saying that I don’t understand who I am at all! I’m lowly, worthless trash that deserves to be trampled on under the name of Hope. Even the universe realizes that because if it didn’t, I wouldn’t have so much Bad Luck whenever I felt happiness! I realized long ago that scum like myself doesn’t deserve happiness and therefore I don’t expect it, which makes it even more of a surprise when I have my Lucky moments! I mean, I wouldn’t have so many people call me so if it wasn’t true!

“You’re insane! Go die! Trash like you doesn’t deserve to be here! Trash is worthless to have around! Throw yourself away dirt bag!” My classmates would say through the years.

“You’re a disgrace! An eyesore! I wish I never even had a despicable child such as yourself!” My parents would shout as they would mumble to themselves how much they would’ve rather had a girl.

“You’re disgusting! Don’t let your snot get all over my sleeves! I’m not some kind of tissue you can wipe your nose on! The only piece of garbage here would be you! You’re life is so easy to take out that it’s just like trash, one use and your done!” The hijacker screamed at me as he increased the pressure of the gun pressed against my head.

“Come on, cry a little more, show some fear you damned brat! Shouldn’t little piss ants like you be a sobbing mess by now?! Huh? You want to die? Tch-you’re useless! How will I receive ransom money if you won’t even squeal! Act like you want help at least! You know what? Fine! Have it your way! I know exactly where to put you! There we go! You look more fitting in here, just like as if you belong in there! Nothing but trash. Useless things such as yourself should never be able to crawl back out of there as you don’t need to be stinking up the place, hoping that you can be useful to someone else. Do yourself and the world a favor and stay in there for the rest of your life.“

Once something is used and worn down, it can’t fulfill the purpose it was created for and therefore becomes trash. If it was never useful in the first place or what anyone wanted, they become trash anyways and become undesirable. That’s what I am. Trash. Useless and unusable. So in a way, I want to be useful, I want someone to use me in order to achieve Hope but how can I be useful when I’m always undesirable anyway? Therefore, I’m garbage. Nothing but trash.

As soon as I realized this, I’ve learned my place; I’ve learned that I don’t deserve to be around anyone, especially the Ultimates because really, who would want something that would stink up the place hanging around them? That’s why, when they tell me “You’re not trash”, I know it isn’t true.

There are some worse beings in the world that don’t even have the worth of being called garbage. They’re called the Reserve Course Students. The Ultimates are capable of using their talents in order to achieve their own Hopes, which makes them splendid candidates to see Ultimate Hope. Even I can qualify for this, as I can use my talent as a stepping stone for others towards gaining Ultimate Hope.

But Reserve course students have nothing. No talent, no lifestyle, nothing except for their parents large bank accounts. Even though I also have more money than most as well, I can’t ever compare myself to those useless pieces of trash. They cling onto false Hope, believing that one day they would be able to witness Ultimate Hope but once someone challenges that false Hope, they’ll defend it no matter what for their own gain. They’ll cling onto those who are worthy of such Hope, hoping that they’ll get a free ride towards True Hope but that’ll never happen. Normal people are selfish, ugly creatures that would manipulate anyone to achieve their own desires, even if it hurt those around them, even if it killed those around them.

For example, if I told you that if you shot the person right next to you, I would give you ten million dollars, would you do it? Of course, right now you’re thinking “I would never do that in my life!” or “That’s just wrong!” which to me are such predictable answers, something that only boring, worthless people would think but I know, that even for just a second, you probably thought “I could do that” before your morals started to kick in. But if you were presented that in real life, if you had a gun in your hand and person right in front of you, with the promise of never being tracked for doing it, would you do it? Most of you no doubt would because it would be fueling your own selfish desires. If it was a stranger, I know that you would shoot them right away but if it was someone your close to, you would hesitate but…

You would still do it.

That’s the thing about normal people. They’ll do what they can to get what they want and the stronger the desire, the more willing they’re able to do what they’re told. I mean, I have my own selfish desires too, such as attempting to see Ultimate Hope and to be profitable to someone, but I at the very least know when to recede. I know where my social stature is, so therefore, if an Ultimate has a goal that they desire to achieve that will bring them closer to Hope, then I know to concentrate on whatever it takes to achieve their Hope filled goal and not mine own. If one of my goals gets acquired along the way while helping someone else, then I would be content for the rest of my life as I would’ve experienced True Hope. But if that one person’s goal is not over yet, then I would quickly go back to aiding them.

Ordinary people don’t do that and that’s why I despise them this much. If they only saw what I saw and learned their place, I think that this school-No-The world would be a far better place! Every one of us working hand to hand to obtain the same difference would completely erase Despair as there would be no more bickering about who’s Hopes are better and we could all witness the Ultimates achieve Ultimate Hope, the one and only true Hope that conquers all others! That’s what I believe but if I were bound to tell somebody else about this, they would think I’m insane but truly I’m not!

Besides, people always anticipate True Hope every single moment! No more war, no more poverty, no more despair; isn’t that what True Hope is? To lack more despair plaguing the Earth? If that’s so, if people just free oneself of his or her selfish desires, being as they are the factors that cause Despair, and if they learn their place in the world, then this Hope everyone has would become reality! It’s certain that normal people, including myself, don’t deserve something so wonderful but those who’ve struggled to become Ultimates or came into being with those talents are entitled to see True Hope being born. That’s what I support. Don’t get me wrong, normal people just as the Reserve Course Students matter as they do serve as stepping stones but have you ever noticed the people who have more power, more talent such as the Ultimates, have a larger voice in society than you? You see it constantly with celebrities and politicians, as people follow every word they say as blind sheep, but why isn’t it that normal people’s voices can’t ring out?

It’s because they have absolutely nothing at all special. They don’t have any power or anything that can pull them up the scale to be heard. If you don’t believe me, then how come whenever there’s a protest, why is it that not one listens to what they plea, although there are a million people there, until one famed figure determines that they agree to their notion and everything all of sudden gains importance? It’s because they have power. If normal people would hammer away and find their talents to draw close to the elite, then I would give them my respect as they would be far better than me. And that’s also why I don’t consider my talent an actual talent. I didn’t need to have any skills to have this ability, I didn’t struggle to obtain it or go to any lengths, it was just handed to me. It was just luck. And that’s why I consider myself unworthy to be called an Ultimate as I’m the same as a normal person, just more lucky and more aware of my situation. I don’t belong with Ultimates but I also don’t belong to the normal people as I still at the very least HAVE something that the majority of people don’t and so I’m utterly useless. Therefore I’m trash.

But do you get my point? Those who don’t have talent but strive for Hope and work eagerly to become an Ultimate have my full respect, but people who are just a waste a space by doing nothing but to feed their own selfish desires and not making an effort to help the Ultimates achieve Hope are even more worthless than myself and deserve to be called stepping stones. I just long to help those who are testing so hard to fight Despair and bring them Hope…

To be honest, I really just have an urge to talk to someone about my beliefs, but because I’m so different, because I’m so useless, not a single person would ever try to talk to me. I’m too dangerous to be around anyway; they would be stuck in my luck cycle with me and who knows! Maybe they might die a terrible death the following day because I would be so blissful! Besides, Hope as wild as that could never become a reality for me as like I’ve said before, so many people throughout my life have implemented where my position stands, therefore I can never accomplish something so outlandish such…as a….friend….

I would never say such a thing aloud as it’s not my place to say those things; I didn’t even tell my therapist what my thoughts were….until now. To be honest, I never believed that I would tell anyone so much before until you came around. To think, that my biggest Hope would be that someone would manage that to love me for me and be my by side as while my brain slowly deteriorates into nothingness…I never thought it would be you Y/N….

I smiled melancholically. Huh? Something warm wrapped around my waist which surprised me until I realized it was you. You’re always here for me you say? Hah, but trash like me doesn’t deserve something as wonderful as that. Being so close to someone like me revolts you, right? You’re thinking why does this waste of space keep talking, right? Isn’t it terrible that to think that such a lowly person will cling onto you and stink up your life now and forever? Doesn’t it scare you that you might die at anytime now or that I might kill anyone if it meant that the Ultimates could come closer to achieving Ultimate Hope? Don’t you think there’s someone who deserves you much more than-

Huh?

You don’t care you say? You want to be alongside me at all costs? BUT WHY?! Why are you so interested in a piece of trash just as myself that’s so broken nonpareil when there’s such amount of others worthy to look after such a precious treasure such as yourself?! You’ll surely break if you stay beside me! Don’t you know who you’re dealing with!? I’ll- Huh? You…love me….? You…don’t wish for me to be alone anymore? You think everyone deserves someone? Y/N…are you sure about this? You’re…aware of what… you’re saying right? What those words mean to me…? If you go on saying things like that….I might never be capable of leaving you…Will you be satisfied with associating yourself with me? Are you aware that your life is at stake around me…? …. The feeling around my waist got tighter as I feel your head bob against my chest. I saw your e/c eyes pierce mine own.

You…do?

Something wet trickles down my cheeks and soon lands onto your beautiful face. That tugging feeling that forms around the corners of my mouth every so often doesn’t feel so forced anymore. Ultimately, I’m surprised by these sensations in the beginning, but it’s the first that these actions feel so genuine. This is what you are making me feel Y/N.

Y/N…I’m so happy right now that I wouldn’t be surprised if the world ended this very moment! Trash like me… like ME of all people being capable of saying such a thing, that you love me is so riveting! This must truly be Hope working at its finest!

You looked concerned at my mini speech but that soon faded away into the broad smile that I loved uncontrollably.

“Nagito…You’re not trash, you’re the most important person to me and to what some people call trash can also be a treasured jewel to another, even when it’s beaten and worn down. Have you ever heard about what happens when a vase or a piece of china becomes ruined? In other countries, people would dispose of that item as they see no use for it anymore, calling it trash. But in this country…they cover the cracks in gold, putting it together again and do you know what they call it now?”

….

“They say, it’s even more beautiful than ever before. Those cracks, those once scattered pieces that other people imagined to be useless, became all the more beautiful, even more so than before. Nothing ever stays perfect but the faults can make that person ever more beautiful than before.”

…

I stood there, speechless. I didn’t know what to say. Where I would’ve countered their argument in any other situation, this one…this one I couldn’t think of anything…For once in my life, albeit it remained for a moment, I fully believed that I was not the waste that everyone else believed…

But that I was and am the beautifully broken vase that is loved by someone forever and always, until the day we both would crumble into dust.

————————–

Sorry for the really long post but I hoped you enjoyed it! Hopefully I can be more active from here on out but I’m having trouble thinking of content right now so please be patient with me~! T^T Maybe I’ll do one of those Imagines posts so if you have anyone in mind, don’t be afraid to ask me! I’ll do Magi and I’ll do Danganronpa so we’ll have a little variety up in here! Thank you againfor reading and making it all the way down here!

Tori-chan~

#nagito komaeda #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa 3

[youwinoryoudiethatswhatpeopledo]

Solving the Final Problem

Here is a fix-it fic for anyone who was hoping for a little more Johnlock in their lives (also a hint of Mystrade, but little enough that you can hopefully ignore it if it’s not your thing.) Technically canon-compliant, as it takes place after the main events of TFP. 

Written for @xaphaniaas as promised, hastily, as soon as I got home from watching it. I hope you all enjoy

Sherlock Holmes was broken. He was exhausted, his nerve shattered, his heart racing and so so close to falling apart. Pulling John from the well, safe at last, and hearing that his brother was the same brought tears of tired relief to his eyes. He fell to his knees in the mud beside the well, tears rolling down his cheeks to splash on the grass. But his shaking shoulders were stilled by the ever-firm hand of Doctor John Watson, wrapped in a warm blanket and holding him tight. “It’s ok.” Sherlock couldn’t find a gap in the sobs to deny him, but he knew deep down, calmed by a heartbeat, strong and alive, that it would be, soon.

When Euros had been taken away, John was taken back to Rosie and Sherlock himself was driven to Baker Street. He stepped out of the police car and stood on the pavement, staring at the door, its knocker still straight, and the windows of his own flat now replaced by wooden boards. He felt guilty for all of it: Euros, and his betrayal of her; all the innocent people he hadn’t been able to save; Mycroft, almost dying for John – Molly. Molly’s sobs still rang in his ears. The taxi brought him to St. Bart’s with admirable swiftness. It wasn’t the ideal place to reconcile himself with a close friend, but her shift wouldn’t end for hours and he couldn’t leave it a second longer. Sets of double doors crashed open as he ran through the warren of corridors towards her, almost falling through the entrance to the morgue itself. When Molly saw him, she turned away abruptly, aiming to leave as quickly as possible. “Molly!” She only sped up. “Molly, wait, please!” As his voice cracked she spun on her heel to face him again, but her look of anger and pain didn’t last long. For even as she looked at him, she could see how sad he was. “Would you- would you, um, like to get coffee?” She nodded and hung up her coat. The coffee shop turned out to be closed for remodelling, so they bought paper cupfuls from a machine down the hall and stood outside with them, side-by-side. Without hesitation, Sherlock started recounting the tale of the past few days to Molly. From the very beginning with John’s therapist through their own telephone call right up to rescuing John the previous night. She didn’t give anything away as he spoke, not even a flinch at the suggestion she might have been blown up. “I’m so sorry, Molly. You are one of my greatest friends, of course I knew that that would hurt you, and if I’d had any choice at all, any other way-” “I know, Sherlock. I believe you. Something that insane could only happen to you, and only a Holmes could be that cruel.” She sipped her coffee, looking beyond him. “I suppose that’s fair.” He cast his eyes to the ground. They were silent for a few moments, birds singing a lilting melody. “Say it again.” She told him. “I’m sorry, I can never say enough, I know, but-” “No.” She cut him off. “Not that, and not to me.” She finally looked at him, embraced him, before leaving him alone and puzzled.

Soon afterwards, when the renovations of 221B Baker Street had only just begun, he saw Mycroft again. They organised his schedule and clearance to visit Euros, to be something like home for her, as he’d promised. But there was a deep sadness in Mycroft’s eyes as they did so. It would take him a long time to recover from this failure in his most precious duty of protecting his siblings. He was looking thinner as well, unhealthily so, as if he’d simply forgotten to eat. Sherlock wanted to say something to him, anything, but- well, it had been mostly his fault. “How’s John?” He heard, before he could speak. “Well. Healthy. He’s helping me clear up Baker Street, I think he and Rosie are going to move back in, he can’t afford to keep a house anymore.” Not without Mary. “Oh, well, that will be excellent for both of you.” “What makes you say that?” “How is little Rosie?” Mycroft turned, pretending to peruse a bookshelf. “Fully functioning, as you would say. Why would it be excellent?” “Oh, Sherlock. Please don’t let me have almost-died for nothing.” He glanced at his pocket watch. “If you will excuse me, brother dear, I’m expecting someone.” “Someone?” “Someone.” Mycroft replied, trying to shut him up and politely shoo him from the house. Relenting, he opened the front door to see the figure of Lestrade, poised to knock. “Sherlock! What a pleasant surprise.” “What are you doing here, George?” He was shot a poisonous glare. “Well, I said I’d look after him for you, didn’t I? Here I am,” he raised a bag of groceries, “looking after him.” The inspector disappeared past him into the house, closing the door between them. He could have sworn that the packaging of Mycroft’s favourite cake was poking out of the supermarket bag.

The governor of Sherrinford prison and his wife were buried a week afterwards. There was a shadow at the back of their funeral where Sherlock Holmes stood watching the proceedings. The couple were well known and well loved, judging by the eulogies and the tears. As such it took a long time for the last mourner to leave, Sherlock at last able to stand alone before their graves. The loving partners were buried beside each other, festooned in vibrant flowers and the memories they carried. Sherlock himself, of course, had few memories of them, and at that moment he could only recall one. That of the hero, willing to die, willing even to kill himself to save the person he loved most in all the world. It took a great amount of love to make someone so stupid as to pull a trigger, or fall from a rooftop, for someone. He could feel the cold of a pistol against the skin of his own chin once again. There was a slight drizzle over his dark curls.

The redecoration of the flat was all but finished, John’s belongings almost all boxed up for moving. The first thing to greet him on his return home was Mrs. Hudson’s worried expression. “Back at last, dear, oh I do wish you’d bring an umbrella with you in this rain. Surely your brother won’t miss one.” He hung up his coat and scarf with a fond smirk. “I’m convinced he loves them more than his own parents, Mrs. Hudson. I borrowed one once as a teenager, for an experiment, and lets just say he proved his relation to my sister that day.” She smiled warmly at him. “You know, John was just telling me he’s packed and ready to move in.” “I believe so.” He approached the stairs to his flat. “It’ll be so nice to have the two of you back again. Oh, but what can we do about a nursery for Rosie?” He tried to keep his voice even as he replied: “I’m hoping we’ll have enough rooms to accommodate one all of her own.” Mrs. Hudson gasped as Sherlock began ascending the stairs again. He just caught sight of her grin as she marched purposefully towards what he presumed to be the telephone and a long, high-pitched conversation with Mrs. Turner, next-door.

When he nervously pushed open the door with a shaking left hand, he immediately saw John, standing with Rosie in his arms in a room which looked just the same as when John had first moved in all those years ago. Sherlock’s heart swelled as he watched the soldier wave a small flower around in front of her as she tried in vain to reach out and grab it from him. Rosie gurgled happily when she saw him in the doorway and gave him an upside-down grin. John at last looked up, equally happy, it seemed, to see him. “There you are! Here, there’s a case for us. A client came while you were out, and brought – this.” With his free hand, he pointed towards a granite statue of an elephant, spattered with blood and what appeared to be ink. “Fascinating.” He said, stepping forward to offer his fingers to Rosie’s eager fists. The two entertained her for a while in near silence, broken only by some of John’s endearing baby talk. “Look, John, can I talk to you?” His voice was shaking, he fought to bring it under control. “Yeah, of course.” The other man looked up at him. He adored the smile on his face, had done ever since that first delighted exclamation at his brilliance, the first person not to run from his deductions. “John, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you for… a very long time.” He began, interrupted by a yawn from Rosie. John began to rock her gently in his arms. “You mean a lot to me. Ever since we met, you’ve been special to me, unique, constantly there for me at my side. I told you as much at your wedding, that you were the best man I’d ever met and, of course, you still are.” He fiddled with his cuffs as he forced himself to continue. “When you told me I was your best friend, I was surprised. I never expected that anyone would ever call me that, let alone that it be true.” The expression on John’s face suggested he very much wanted to tell him to get to the point. “But at – at the wedding, I also told you that I loved you, more than anything in the world and, what I’m trying to say, what I’ve come to realise is…” it took a lot of courage to look back into John’s eyes, “that it’s true. I mean, I do – love you, that is – I… I love you.” “Yeah, I know.” John replied with a half-amused smile. “No, no, you don’t. Please, John, you have to understand.” He began to panic, he couldn’t do this wrong, not now. “I really love you, I love the way you make tea, the way you talk to Rosie. I love that you don’t get annoyed at my playing, even when I’m so frustrated I’m practically torturing the poor instrument. I love your bravery, and your cleverness,” John snorted, “yes, John, you may not see how good you’ve become during our cases, but I have. You’re far from just my blogger, now, I couldn’t solve half of them without you. I love that you will face up to the most dangerous people in the world, that you’ll punch senior police officers in the face, for me. I love when you stay up with me sometimes when I’m thinking.” His eyes widened. He knew John thought he didn’t notice him there, but he always did. “I – god, I loved your terrible moustache because you liked it, and I love your smile, and your laugh, and I just – I love you, John. Please, please, tell me that you understand.” “Of course I do, you idiot. Even Mary did, that’s why she – why-” he cleared his throat. “She knew how I felt about you before even I did, maybe she guessed from the very beginning.” Sherlock’s brain had stalled in the middle of the sentence. “What?” “Well, you must-? Don’t tell me you don’t know I feel the same?” He looked concerned. “I had… hopes, but I didn’t ever know for certain.” “That great deductive mind, defeated by love once again. You take after your brother.” He thought about the inspector, and the cake. “I really think I do.” “Well anyway, you know now, yes, that’s- that.” John knew what he was avoiding. His soldier’s nerve steeled, and he couldn’t help recalling a moment not so long ago, in the grand scheme of things, when he stood before a gravestone and begged for just one thing. He matched the detective’s gaze. “I love you, Sherlock.” Sherlock smiled, more out of relief than anything else. And John smiled back, heavy with years of newly-recognised affection. “Of course, you know what this means.” John said casually. “What?” His brow furrowed in puzzlement. “You have to change Rosie.” He smirked as tears began to form in the hitherto-silent baby’s eyes and she began to cry obscenely loudly.

He pulled Sherlock down into a kiss, just a brief taste of every day and every year they would spend together, and he pressed their baby into his arms.

#i hope you enjoyed this #i'd love any feedback if you have some time #i also wrote and read it through hastily so please say if i've made any mistakes #bbc sherlock #sherlock spoilers #fix-it fic #fanfic #johnlock #mystrade #the final problem #has hopefully been solved to your liking #john watson #sherlock holmes #molly hooper #greg lestrade #mycroft holmes #mrs. hudson #euros holmes #rosie watson #soon to be rosie holmes-watson #mary watson #sherlock #time for me to sleep at last #tfp #tfp spoilers