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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

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Sunshine

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Han Jisung (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 12K

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut and Language

Summary: Y/N has loved Jisung for her entire life and she would never dream of marrying anyone else. Of course, their life together isn’t always perfect, but they’ve always managed to overcome every obstacle standing in their way.

Note: Feeling soft for Jisung these days...

I was only 8-years-old when my parents divorced.

My mother, thinking herself circumspect, blamed it on my father’s long hours at work. But she wasn’t there the night I decided to wait for my father, watching him come home in the dead of night to quietly clean the lipstick painting the side of his cheek. I remember catching his eyes from the bottom of the staircase and the guilt in his eyes was impossible to dismiss.

Those kinds of unfortunate secrets are difficult to hide because they demand to be seen.

Thereafter, I can recall memories of sitting in different offices, listening to my parents bicker while their lawyers did their best to satisfy bitter clients, especially when it came to their daughter. I was a particularly harsh point of contention, but full childhood custody was granted to my mother who did everything in her power to push my father out of our lives, even packing up our belongings to move to the opposite side of the country. And New York City was just as intimidating as my childish imagination had perceived it to be. My first impression was unforgettable, a city that was large and confusing, constantly streaked with traffic and heavy with the low-set of smog in the mornings when the sun could barely filter through the landscape of skyscrapers.

My mother and I moved to the suburbs and started renting a modest home with the idyllic front yard and friendly neighbors who greeted us with dishes containing different foods upon our arrival. I had always been shy and introverted, choosing the comfort of my mother’s legs whenever a stranger would knock on our door, occasionally offering my mother a flirtatious smile. Like the older man who lived across the street who often made a habit of coming over to talk to my mother in the living room while I hid away upstairs, listening to the sound of their laughter.

Eventually, I could no longer pretend that something strange wasn’t happening, especially when my mother’s new friend brought over his two sons. They were both around my age, sporting thick accents that reminded me of the man on television who liked to wrestle with crocodiles. My mother’s friend introduced them as Chan and Felix, encouraging the three of us to get along because we would be spending a lot of time with each other. My childish innocence didn’t quite understand what that meant, but I wanted to do the very best for my mother.

Even so, I was still hesitant at first because Felix seemed to dislike the idea, ignoring me in exchange for his video games when I would come over to their house. Thankfully, Chan was more willing to comply, sharing his books with me since we both liked to read and the couch in his bedroom was extremely comfortable. He had a wide variety of mysteries and thrillers and my impressionable mind would latch onto those exotic stories and themes, picturing myself in the place of the heroine who somehow managed to always know exactly what to do in the most formidable of situations.

Eventually, Chan invited me to accompany him and Felix to the park to meet their other friends since I was having trouble making them on my own. Felix, of course, remained opposed, very nearly throwing a fit had it not been for his father who scolded his son for being so inconsiderate. Not that I was necessarily excited at the idea of meeting their friends since I would have preferred staying inside to read. Nevertheless, my mother was insistent that we get along, so I reluctantly followed Chan and Felix who were talking about some sort of new comic book that they were both reading. It was all very decidedly boyish things and I had no interest in superheroes who ran around in capes when the real heroes were the common female protagonists of my books.

“Everyone, meet Y/N,” Chan had introduced me, pushing me forward to greet the seven other boys who were all looking at me like I was some sort of extraterrestrial specimen.

One of their older friends, with a messy head of black hair, immediately crossed his arms. “No way, Chan,” he protested, glaring at me with intimidating dark eyes.

“Girls aren’t allowed,” another boy agreed, nodding his head with enough force to send his bangs flying into his eyes.

I retreated into myself with each subsequent insult and dismissal thrown my way. It was enough to ostracise even the most outgoing of individuals, but I was quite frustrated because I had tried to resist coming along from the moment Chan first proposed the idea. “I didn’t want to come anyway,” I snapped at the boys, surprising each and every one of them as I stormed away to plant myself down on one of the park benches.

I could hear Chan calling my name but I had decidedly had enough of those boys, including Chan despite the inherent kindness he had previously shown me. In fact, they could have fun without me doing whatever it is that nasty little boys liked to do in the park. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have enjoyed it anyway, even if they had opened their arms and begged me to play along. Of course, I was still deeply hurt that they had dismissed me so quickly, but I had always been a prideful child, which is why my first instinct was to lash out when I noticed a shadow had fallen over my wilted form. “You don’t have to be nice anymore, Chan,” I said, turning away from the approaching boy.

“I’m really sorry.”

I glanced up in surprise when I realized that the voice was much brighter than Chan’s gravelly tone. Instead, I met a pair of unfamiliar brown eyes from beneath a fringe of blonde-colored hair. The boy held out a flower, a wilted dandelion that had nearly lost its pappus, as if in a gesture of appeasement.

I accepted it from him hesitantly. “Thank you.”

“They shouldn’t be so mean,” the boy continued, waving at his friends who were busy arguing over a silly football. “You’re really tall so you might be able to catch Minho’s long passes.”

I paused at his comment. “Do you want me to play?”

“Of course,” the boy grinned, smiling as brilliantly as the sun bearing down on the two of us. “My name’s Jisung.”

I returned his smile. “It’s nice to meet you Jisung.” He offered me his hand which I gratefully accepted, holding on to him with an unrelenting grip because I had a feeling that I would never want to let go.

This might explain why, years later, I was still waking up next to him in bed with an expensive ring on my finger courtesy of dozens of saved paychecks back when Jisung worked overtime in college. On this morning, in particular, the sound of my alarm might have been enough to wake me up, but the unexpected presence of my husband’s hand groping my chest provided the necessary catalyst to blindly reach out for my cell phone. I silenced the unwelcome disturbance, allowing a low groan when I reached down for his hand because leave it to Han Jisung to feel me up even when we were both sleeping. “What are you doing?” Jisung asked when I tightened my fingers around his wrist, loudly protesting when he squeezed my breast in return.

“It’s too early for that,” I whined, especially when he started to rub his hard cock against my ass.

“Just let me put it inside for five minutes,” Jisung pleaded, his other hand roaming down to tug on my panties.

“What good will that do?” I asked him, slowly wriggling away from his arms despite the show of childish outrage from my immature husband who still sometimes forgot that he was an adult.

“You’re gonna make me show up to work like this?” Jisung pouted, expression painted with his betrayal as he watched me walk around our bedroom.

“Take a cold shower,” I said, tossing a towel in his direction.

“Y/N,” Jisung said. “Let’s think about the practicalities of the situation. We haven’t had sex in a week and my dick feels like it might fall off at any moment.”

“And if we look at this situation scientifically,” I added. “I doubt your dick will fall off because that’s assuredly impossible.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jisung asked in an exaggerated fashion, burying his face into our nicest set of pillows.

“Because I’m meeting Seungmin and Jeongin for lunch and you have a field trip to chaperone. Plus, I don’t want to listen to Changbin complain to me on the phone tonight when you show up to work late again.”

“Seungmin and Jeongin are more important than me?”

“Lunch is more important than you,” I corrected him with a smirk, reaching for my bag. “Have a nice day at work, babe.”

“No kiss goodbye?” Jisung questioned even as the door to our bedroom shut soundly behind me.

Being amongst the youngest, me, Seungmin, and Jeongin frequently made a habit of eating lunch together on Saturday afternoons. It was a traditional affair, primarily allowing the three of us to gossip about the others without fear of reprimand. And ever since our Freshman year writing lecture, we’ve enjoyed greasy fast food while commenting on everything from Chan and Changbin’s sudden obsession with the gym to our theories that Minho was secretly married to a rich aristocrat who supplied him with the endless amount of money he spent on his cats.

“Hey!” Jeongin protested when I reached over to steal a piece of his steak.

“It looks better than mine,” I attempted to justify, speaking over a mouthful of food which my mother would normally offer criticism.

“Felix has been acting weird lately,” Seungmin randomly commented, a frown confusing his features as he scrolled through his phone.

I chewed the stolen beef before asking, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he only ever gets like this when she’s back in town.”

I let out a heavy exhale, understanding exactly why Seungmin was concerned. “How long?”

“A week or so,” Seungmin said. “He never comes out with us anymore.”

“Does Changbin know?” I asked, sliding my plate aside in exchange for this piece of juicy gossip.

Changbin’s sister, better known as the object of Felix’s most intimate desires, has managed to whole-heartedly capture Felix in some sort of deadly trance. My step-brother, notoriously known for being a playboy in college, became whipped around Changbin’s sister, following her around like a lost puppy begging for attention. “Of course he does,” Seungmin replied. “But he says that Kara hasn’t tried to contact Felix at all.”

“Obviously,” I snorted. “Changbin thinks Kara is the epitome of perfection. His little sister can’t possibly do wrong in his eyes.”

“I think Felix shares his opinion,” Jeongin commented, trying to sound perfectly serious while he sipped on his chocolate milk.

“We’re having a family dinner tomorrow night,” I said with a sigh. “It’s a good opportunity to interrogate my step-brother.”

“Please, Y/N,” Seungmin said, eyes round and soft. “Felix always tells you everything.”

“And you can immediately tell us in the group chat,” Jeongin chirped happily.

“Of course!” I agreed, reaching over to ruffle Jeongin’s hair until my phone abruptly started ringing. “Yes, Hyunjin?” I sighed into the other end.

“Y/N! We have an emergency!”

I rolled my eyes at his theatrics. “It can’t be that bad.”

“We don’t have straws! I repeat, the cafe has no straws and people are asking for straws, Y/N.”

“Jesus, Hyunjin,” I groaned. “Just go next door and buy some straws.”

“Y/N,” Hyujin huffed impatiently. “There is a bigger problem here and you don’t even realize! That kid you hired last week? I think he’s out to sabotage the cafe. I put him in charge of ordering supplies and guess what isn’t supplied?”

“The damn straws,” I muttered, suddenly having a million regrets for agreeing to open the cafe with Hyunjin in the first place.

“Now you finally understand.”

I carefully lowered the phone from my ear, cupping the receiver to look at Seungmin. “Do you mind coming with me to the cafe? I’m supposed to have the day off but Hyunjin’s losing his shit over straws.”

“Sounds like Hyunjin,” Seungmin smirked. “I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Hyujin,” I repeated into the phone. “Please don’t scream at that poor kid, I’ll be there in five minutes.”

The cafe was originally supposed to be an independent endeavor until Hwang Hyunjin found out about my plans and demanded some sort of involvement. Despite our friendship, I was still hesitant to consider Hyunjin as a business partner, especially considering his performances in the lectures we shared in college. Hyunjin was the type of student to arrive to class five minutes before the professor, desperation clinging to him persistently while he begged me to explain the homework assignment. Nevertheless, Hyunjin somehow graduated from the business school at the same time as I did, albeit without the honor’s recognition, proving himself despite the doubts of nearly everyone in our friend circle with the exception of Jisung who always managed to see the good in everyone.

Shortly after graduation, Hyunjin and I took out a small loan from the bank to open our cafe in a very strategic location close to a nearby university. From the beginning, I had primarily handled the more elaborate side of our business ranging from accounting and point of sales to ordering supplies and handling employees. Hyunjin, on the other hand, took care of the creative aspects including designing what he deemed an “elegant” menu while also trying out new recipes that our mostly college-aged clientele greatly enjoyed in the form of free samples.

“Y/N!” Hyujin gasped as soon as I walked in the door with Seungmin and Jeongin. “Well?”

I held up a grocery bag full of the straws I had just purchased. “It’s fine, Hyunjin.”

“It’s not fine,” Hyunjin protested, walking over to yank the bag free from my grasp. “I’ll have you know that one of our usual customers left us 4 instead of 5 stars for satisfaction.”

“What will we do?” I deadpanned. “Where’s the new kid? Did you scold him thoroughly?”

“Of course I did,” Hyunjin said, pointing to the kitchen. “I sent him to wash dishes.”

“He’s a cashier.”

“It’s punishment, Y/N,” Hyunjin said. “We can’t have him thinking he can get away with potentially damaging our public image.”

“These kids will still get their morning coffee,” I said. “They don’t care if we’re out of straws as long as they have somewhere to loiter around all day to finish their essays.”

“That’s another thing,” Hyunjin said. “I think we definitely need a bigger place and I know the owner next door said something about moving out.”

“Renovations are expensive,” I said. “And you don’t know if the landlord would be okay with us tearing out the wall to expand.”

“What if I found out?”

“Talk to Seungmin instead,” I suggested, tugging the younger boy forward. “I’ll see about this new guy you’ve decided to torture.”

“Punishment, Y/N!”

I rolled my eyes because I was still frustrated that I had to come into the cafe because of the worst excuse for an emergency in the history of mankind. But what else did I expect from Hyunjin? “Remember to breathe, Y/N,” I whispered to myself.

Back in the kitchen, our newest employee, donned in his decorative jacket courtesy of Hyunjin’s obsession with bright uniforms, was currently bent over the sink with thick gloves pulled up to his elbows. I felt bad for the guy because it was obvious that he wasn’t used to doing something like this. “Hey, kid,” I said, surprising the younger boy who immediately dropped one of the cups back into the sudsy water. “You don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I-I don’t mind,” he stuttered, eyes wide as he held tightly to a sponge.

“It’s not your job,” I insisted, carefully taking the sponge from him like he was a deer that might dart away at any sudden movement. “I’m sorry Hyunjin told you to come back here. To be honest, he was probably trying to avoid this work himself.”

“But I messed up the order,” he said, hanging his head. “It’s my fault.”

“Not it’s not and don’t let Hyunjin tell you otherwise,” I said. “Next time, call me if you’re having trouble with the order.”

I reached into my bag to pull out my business card, holding it out for his reluctant hand which was still slightly damp from his unexpected dish duty. “You’re not mad?” he asked reluctantly.

“No way,” I reassured him. “I used to work during college too, you know. I kinda get it, kid, so don’t worry about anything.”

His smile was sincere, looking at my card like it was the key to the world. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“Get back on register,” I encouraged him. “That’s what I hired you for, and next time Hyunjin gives you any shit, you just let me know.”

He nodded enthusiastically, vacating the kitchen as if he was actually thrilled by the idea of returning to the register. I knew all was well when I could hear Hyunjin’s shrill voice from the other room: “Y/N!”

Jisung managed to beat me home and I walked inside to find my husband laid out on the couch with a glass of orange juice in one hand. “Headache,” Jisung pouted at me.

“Take some Advil,” I said with a smirk, ignoring the way his hands reached out for me in exchange for the possibility of a snack from the kitchen.

“Y/N!” I heard him groan my name.

“Sungie,” I returned his call. “I hope this isn’t some sort of elaborate set-up because we have dinner with my mother tomorrow night.”

Jisung was silent in the next room and I shook my head while dumping a sample of chips into one of our plastic bowls. I came back out into the living room to find Jisung rolled over onto his stomach, face buried into the cushions of our sectional. “Baby,” I cooed, trying to lure him out from his hiding place.

“I forgot about the dinner,” Jisung said, voice muffled against the furniture.

“I figured that,” I said, somewhat sympathetic to his plight. For as long as I could remember, Jisung had always feared our family dinners mainly because my mother had a personal vendetta against him. Ever since he first stepped foot on the porch wearing a rented suit for Junior year prom, my mother had deemed him unworthy of my time. Her feelings only worsened when she found out that Jisung was majoring in elementary education. “A teacher, Y/N! That boy isn’t going to be able to support the two of you!”

Subsequently, every visit to my mother’s house meant that Jisung had to listen to my mother read statistics on how poor and destitute teachers were in the city. Meanwhile, Felix also received the same treatment from his father who was absolutely horrified when he found out that his youngest son wanted to open a dance studio with Minho. It didn’t help that my step-father loathed Minho because he found him and Felix in the back of Minho’s corvette smoking enough weed to satisfy the entirety of our high school.

It was a complete contradiction because while Jisung and Felix were constantly reprimanded, Chan and I were bathed in compliments and adoration. “Channie,” my mother would smile. “How are your cases?” Chan was some kind of small claims lawyer in the upper Bronx which meant he made enough money to buy a Rolex for every day of the week while driving an expensive Tesla.

“And Y/N,” my mother would address me. “How’s the cafe?”

“We always do well around Finals season,” I told her.

“That’s wonderful darling!” she would always say while glaring in Jisung’s direction who would visibly falter under my mother’s judgemental stare. “How are your...kids, Jisung?”

“They’re great,” Jisung would laugh nervously. “I had to stop one of them from eating a bottle of glue the other day.”

I would laugh and affectionately run my fingers through Jisung’s hair while my mother remained statuesque-still. “How amusing.”

The pattern persisted to this day and I knew Jisung tolerated the dinners for my sake, but he always protested in different ways. For example, last month Jisung agreed to babysit our neighbor’s Pomeranian because he thought I might allow him to stay at home. And I almost let him get away with his impromptu plans when I remembered that Jisung would have to make dinner on his own and I was horrified by the idea of Han Jisung anywhere near my kitchen.

“Tell your mother I’m dying,” Jisung said, pulling me from my thoughts. “That should make her happy.”

“Han Jisung,” I scolded him, reaching down to gently massage his leg. “I’m not leaving you home alone. You’re prone to more kitchen fires than anyone else I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ll order takeout,” Jisung said, kicking his foot out against my thigh.

“If you’re gonna act like a child, then I’ll have to treat you like one,” I said, giving his ass a firm smack before rising from the sectional.

Jisung jolted at the unexpected contact, raising his head to briefly consider me. “What was that?”

“Do you not want to play?” I returned, grinning when Jisung immediately sat upright from his position on the sofa, leaning forward in expectation. “Does this mean what I think it does?”

“Perhaps if you decide to stop being so stubborn about the dinner,” I said, dropping to my knees in front of him.

Jisung’s eyes grew wide with lust, hands reaching out to pull my head closer to his crotch. “I’ll go to as many dinners as you want, babe.”

“That’s better,” I smirked, efficiently undoing his belt. “It’s only for a few hours.”

Jisung was ecstatic, pulling down his jeans and underwear. “I’ll just sit with Felix in the dining room alone.”

“Is that so?” I asked, curling my fingers around his hardening cock.

Jisung nodded, hair falling into his eyes as he watched me with rapt attention. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to him recently.”

“What a good sport,” I teased, jerking his cock a few times because I liked the way Jisung’s eyelids would flutter with his pleasure. But he was being remarkably good, so I decided he had earned an end to his apparent sexual frustrations. I took in the tip of his cock, running my tongue along the slit dripping with milky white pre-cum.

“Please,” Jisung begged, grip unrelenting on my hair as he encouraged me to swallow more of his cock, slowly taking him in until I could feel him at the back of my throat. “Can I do it?” Jisung asked with desperate eyes and I nodded once, giving him the permission he desired to move my head up and down the length of his erection, warm and rigid against my tongue. I made sure to moan around him because I knew the resulting vibrations felt really good, enjoying the sounds of Jisung’s grunts as he fucked my mouth.

While Jisung did a majority of the work, I tried to amplify his pleasure when I could like running my tongue along the prominent vein on his cock or using my teeth to drag against the fleshy part of him. My fingernails dug into his thighs, leaving behind marks that would probably vanish after a warm shower. Tears were steadily streaking down my cheeks courtesy of an instinctual reaction to Jisung’s cock repeatedly sliding in and out, hollowing my cheeks to accommodate him. “It feels so good,” Jisung said, palms clammy as one hand came to fan against my cheek, wiping away the smeared streaks of my mascara.

Throughout our years together, I had learned a lot about Jisung including his apparent oral fixation when it came to sex. Jisung loved when I gave him a blowjob as I discovered for the very first time locked away in the Janitor’s closet, tasting Jisung on my tongue for a few seconds before he was cumming down my throat, apologizing incessantly for not being able to last longer. As if I really cared because I was quite proud of myself for breaking him down so quickly. But as much as Jisung liked to receive, he also loved to give and feeling his tongue on my pussy was a guilty pleasure, watching Jisung eat me out like he belonged between my thighs.

“Cumming,” Jisung warned me, grip tightening as his hips stuttered, pubic hair brushing against my nose while the bitter taste of his cum was swallowed down with effort because my throat was now incredibly sore.

Jisung fell back against the couch, fingers pushing my hair back from where it had fallen messily into my face. I shakily climbed into his lap, kissing him greedily because there was no better sight than Jisung completely spent after a good orgasm, especially when it was because of me. “Is that better, baby?” I asked, pecking him on the nose.

“I love you,” post-orgasm Jisung told me entreatingly, eyes swimming with tears as he proceeded to plant dozens of soft kisses against the exposed skin of my collarbones.

Jisung pulled into the driveway of my mother’s house with a morbid expression. “It’s not too late to cancel, right?”

I ignored his comment, opening the door to step out into the bitterly cold evening. “Babe, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

“No need to pretend,” Jisung grumbled, reluctantly following me to the porch where I hit the doorbell, smoothing down my skirt because my mother always liked it when we dressed up for these dinners.

But the last thing I expected to see on the other side of the door was Kara, especially a version of Kara dressed in an appropriately sized skirt. “Y/N!”

I’m sure my expression of shock matched the one present on my husband’s face as we both took in the sight of Changbin’s little sister. “Kara?” I questioned stupidly, holding tighter to Jisung’s sweater because I needed something to ground me in the reality of this unanticipated situation.

“You guys look great!” she declared. “Come inside!”

“Of course,” I said softly, pulling Jisung behind me as I stepped into the foyer, shrugging off my coat which Kara took from me to hang in the closet like she had been doing it for years.

“Y/N!” my mother squealed, interrupting the unanswered “why are you here?” hanging between the three of us.

“Mom,” I said, accepting her hug with a wince because my mother was never gentle in her affections.

“And Jisung,” my mother frowned, eyeing my husband up and down. “What the hell are you wearing.”

Jisung looked down at his corduroy pants which I had warned him repeatedly to destroy. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Oh nevermind with you,” my mother said dismissively, reaching out for Kara. “Look, Y/N, Felix brought home a very nice friend. Are the two of you acquainted?”

“She’s Changbin’s sister,” I told my mother. “Why would I not know her?”

“Oh don’t give me that attitude,” my mother said. “Kara was just telling me about the marketing firm she works for! Isn’t that impressive?”

“My brother’s jealous,” Kara said. “He’s stuck working with kids all day, isn’t that the worst?”

My mother giggled at Kara’s comment while I reached behind me to give Jisung’s hand a reassuring squeeze. I didn’t even need to see my husband’s face to know that he would be fuming over Kara’s words. “I think you can do Felix some good too,” my mother said, now leading Kara towards the kitchen. “That boy is an absolute mess sometimes.”

I found Chan in the living room, eating his way through most of my mother’s groceries. “Channie,” I said, hurrying Jisung along despite the way his feet drug against the carpet. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

Chan barely glanced up from his food. “What is it?”

“In private?”

Chan offered me a blank look to which I grabbed his hand, forcing him to the opposite side of the room and away from any potential eavesdroppers. “Why the hell is Kara here?”

“Beats me,” Chan shrugged. “Felix said they’re just friends.”

“Just friends my ass!” I hissed at him. “Chan, you know how stupid Felix gets around her! Since when has Felix brought any of his ‘friends’ to one of these dinners?”

“I don’t want to get involved, Y/N,” Chan said. “It’s really none of our business.”

“But does Changbin know she’s here?”

Chan shrugged helplessly. “How should I know? I don’t see Changbin much these days.”

“Ah, you’re useless,” I declared. “There’s a potentially catastrophic disaster unfolding right in front of your eyes and yet food is more concerning to you.”

“Of course it is,” Chan nodded solemnly. “Why do you think I sacrifice a Sunday night at home to drive an hour over here?”

“What a good son you are,” I said, pinching one of his cheeks. “I’m sure your father would be pleased to hear that.”

“Y/N, I seriously don’t know anything about Felix and Kara,” Chan said, smacking my hand away.

“Listen to me, Chan-”

I broke off when my mother suddenly entered the room with Kara on her heels, holding out a tray of cheese and crackers. “Appetizers!” my mother exclaimed, immediately chastising Jisung when he accidentally dropped one on my mother’s coffee table.

“Leave it alone,” Chan warned me, sparing me no further attention as he joined the others in the living room. I followed him to the couch where I planted myself between my step-brother and Jisung, eyeing Kara suspiciously as she sat herself directly on Felix’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck.

“I think your mother likes me the least tonight,” Jisung whispered anxiously into my ear.

“That’s because Felix has something shiny and new for her to mess with,” I said, patting his thigh soothingly.

“Everyone, help yourselves!” my mother announced, ushering my step-father into the room with a glass of wine in hand.

I handed Jisung a plate. “Do me a favor and keep the food where it belongs.”

Jisung pouted at me. “You act like I’m clumsy on purpose.”

“I don’t need to feed you, do I?” I asked him, ignoring the way he reached down to pinch my waist in warning.

The remainder of our dinner progressed slowly, more so than usual because my mother seemed to have hundreds of questions for Kara. In fact, as opposed to Jisung and Felix being the objects of my mother’s contempt, that title seemed to belong to everyone excluding Kara. Chan and I were rarely spoken to, and Jisung was only addressed when my mother complained that he was chewing too loudly. “Do you see my son-in-law?” she complained to Kara like they were old friends. “He’s never had good table manners.”

I held tightly to Jisung’s hand when I felt him tense next to me. “Jisung’s always been that way,” Kara replied with far too much affection for my liking.

Her comment forced me to recall the very first time I ever met Kara back during my third year of high school. She was a year younger than Jeongin, so she came into our high school as a shy Freshman with only Changbin as an ally. And Changbin loved to brag about how smart his sister was, claiming that she didn’t even need to study because she could memorize everything the teacher said in class. But Changbin hadn’t been exaggerating and I had been slightly jealous of Kara’s easygoing nature, seamlessly inserting herself into our lives as if she had always belonged there. The truth of the matter was that Kara had been attending a private school for most of her life because of her higher intelligence. The school was located hours away from where we lived so we never saw Kara except in brief passing when she came home on the weekends. However, Kara insisted that she wanted a normal high school life, so she enrolled at our local public institution with the goal of making new friends and getting a taste of what her brother always talked about in their long phone conversations.

At first, Kara stuck tightly to Changbin’s side, but it didn’t take long for her to open up to the rest of our group, including Felix whose crush started the moment Kara first walked through the doors. My poor step-brother was enamored, jealous when Kara would start dating some of the older Seniors. Of course, it didn’t help that Changbin remained adamant that Kara never dated any of his friends because they were, in his words, completely unworthy. So, with the exception of the unfortunate incident of Junior prom, Kara obeyed her brother and only showed the other guys affection in the form of a pat on the head or a gentle shove when they said something funny.

By the time I graduated with Hyunjin, Seungmin, Felix, and Jisung, Kara had become another pillar in our dynamic, even appealing to the older ones like Chan and Minho. Yet, when Jeongin finally entered university with the rest of us, something changed with Kara and she no longer hung out with us as much as she had before. Then, there was the matter of her attending college in an entirely different state, only coming to visit sporadically when Felix would bend over backward to make sure she attended one of his fraternity parties. By the time I graduated from college, Kara was more or less nothing but a distant memory, only coming into fruition on rare occasions. Thus, seeing her here today was definitely disorienting, especially since it was only because of Felix that she was here in the first place.

“Kara, you’re such a wonderful girl,” my mother said. “I can’t believe we haven’t met before.”

I rolled my eyes because my mother seemed to forget my Junior year of high school almost as much as I did. “You’ve been such a gracious host,” Kara said to my mother.

“It’s getting late,” my mother sighed, glancing at my step-father who was moments away from passing out on the couch. “We should get to bed, but the rest of you are more than welcome to stay and chat. I know I took up a lot of the conversation.”

“That’s an understatement,” Jisung muttered.

“Anyways, I’ll call you later on this week, Y/N,” my mother said, offering me a lazy wave before collecting Kara into one of the tightest embraces I had ever seen.

Once my mother and step-father had wandered up the steps, Kara came back into the room with mischievous eyes. “Let’s play a game,” Kara suggested, urging us all around the coffee table. I groaned when Jisung pulled me back into his arms, burying his face into the side of my neck like he was prone to do when he was the slightest bit tipsy.

“No more alcohol for you,” I said, swiping the bottle away from my husband who protested half-heartedly.

“What do you suggest?” Felix asked, looking at Kara with starstruck eyes.

“Maybe truth or dare?” Kara said, squealing like she had forgotten that everyone around the table now had a full-time job.

“Why not,” Felix said, reaching for his discarded bottle of Corona. “Would you like to go first?”

Kara giggled when Felix leaned in closer, lips teasing her exposed collarbones. “Keep it PG,” I requested, glaring at Felix.

“Okay,” Kara said, taking the bottle and placing it onto the table.

“If someone can dare me to get laid, that would be nice,” Jisung said and I reached around to elbow my husband in the side for his smart comment.

I watched as the bottle spun around in its defined circumference before landing on Chan who groaned loudly. “Truth or Dare, Chan!”

“Truth,” Chan said, picking up his bottle of beer. “Knowing you’d guys, I’d be forced to drink the rest of this on a dare and I have to be at the office at six.”

“Are you seeing anyone, Chan?” Kara asked, leaning in close like she was about to hear a juicy secret. Of course, I knew better than anyone because I was often the recipient of Chan’s late-night phone calls when my step-brother would complain to me about his sadly lacking love life.

“No,” Chan huffed, reaching out to give the bottle a powerful spin. “I’m always single.”

I reached across to pat him tenderly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Channie, there’s a girl out there waiting for you!”

Felix let out a drunken squeak, turning to look at Kara with a smile. “Truth or dare, Felix?”

“Dare,” Felix said, bouncing up and down from his spot on the floor like a loose spring.

“I dare you to...

“...call Changbin,” I spoke over Kara, enjoying the identical looks of matching horror on their countenances.

“What?” Felix questioned, intoxicated brain undoubtedly having trouble keeping up with the flow of our conversation.

“Call. Changbin.” I repeated, much slower this time to leave no room for a potential misunderstanding. Unsurprisingly, Kara hesitantly shook her head at Felix as if asking him to ignore my request. “Those are the rules,” I informed her smugly, watching Felix as he took out his phone with a shaky hand. He dialed Changbin’s number and we all sat forward in profound expectation of what was about to happen.

That is until Changbin’s voicemail picked up.

Kara snatched Felix’s phone and quickly hung up the call. “He’s not answering, so let’s move on to something else.”

I frowned as I sat back against Jisung’s chest, frustrated because Changbin had probably chosen an early night’s sleep in exchange for answering a friend’s important phone call. “Truth or Dare, Y/N.”

“Truth,” I muttered, folding my arms across my chest even as Jisung started to rub gentle circles into my hips as if picking up on my irritation.

Kara’s eyes narrowed. “Were you jealous when I kissed Jisung at prom?”

The room was dead silent following her vengeful question. My cheeks flushed at the reminder, feeling Jisung squirm uncomfortably behind me. It was a horrible thing to ask me, especially considering the circumstances surrounding the unholy night that Minho had silently termed “the worst day of Y/N’s life.” But I suppose that Kara felt warranted to ask me considering the fact that I had just tried to expose her to Changbin. “Of course I was,” I snapped at her, twisting the bottle while maintaining a penetrative staring contest with Felix’s love interest.

My shoulders relaxed when the bottle landed on Kara, and I quickly intervened before Felix could give Kara an easy way out of what was rapidly becoming a terrible mistake. “Are you dating Felix again?” I asked, watching as her eyes narrowed from my choice of words.

“It’s truth or dare, Y/N.”

“Are you afraid to answer the question?” I asked her. “Or are you just using Felix like always?”

Another long silence enveloped our gathered group.

“I guess I don’t get a turn?” Jisung whispered into the tense silence of the room.

“Holy shit!” Hyunjin exhaled when I finally finished explaining everything that had happened at my mother’s house the previous evening.

“She’s a total bitch,” I said. “Everyone knows that we don’t talk about that night.”

Hyunjin nodded in agreement. “Do you remember the ugly suit I wore?”

I glared at my friend. “You’re not helping and we have customers.”

Hyunjin offered me a salute, returning to the register to accept another order while I aggressively wiped down our counters. One of our waitresses watched me with a gaping mouth until I turned to glare at her. She quickly picked up her tray to retreat back into the crowd of college students.

Now, let me start by saying that Junior year prom was never something I was looking forward to attending. The only reason I even went was because Han Jisung asked me to go and my attraction for him had skyrocketed by this time, to the point where I found myself staring at his ass whenever we had gym together and he decided to demonstrate the correct technique for a pull-up. Our friends deemed our relationship inevitable, the romanticized soulmates who met as kids and grew up together with agreeable personalities. Of course, it also helped when puberty hit and suddenly Han Jisung looked less like the little boy I played with on the playground and more like a man whose dick I really wanted to taste.

For a lot of my classmates, Prom meant an unsanctioned night away from the school where they could lose their inhibitions when someone inevitably spiked the punch bowl. There were no school officials present at the event, only volunteers, and since it didn’t take place on school grounds (but inside of a nearby YMCA) everyone could basically do whatever they wanted without consequence. Thus, the next day’s rumor mill was spinning with tales of romance and deceptions, break-ups and hook-ups, and even the occasional wild story of someone stealing from the radio store next door.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Jisung asked me nervously the moment we first walked inside.

“Sure,” I told him, affectionately adjusting the cute bowtie he had chosen for the occasion, cheeks rosy red as he hurried away.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin said, taking Jisung’s place in front of me. “You look great!”

“So do you,” I told him honestly, appraising his suit which likely cost a thousand dollars just to rent for this one occasion. “Where’s your girl?”

“Who knows, she was just meant to be arm candy,” Hyunjin said dismissively and I snorted at his explanation. “I only came here for the drama and the alcohol.”

“Anything interesting so far?” I asked, grinning when I saw Jisung accidentally knock the punch ladle into the floor.

“Changbin came with a Freshman,” Hyunjin said. “I talked to them earlier and he’s definitely only interested in her ass.”

“How crude,” I remarked. “What about the others?”

“I guess Seungmin and Jeongin came with each other,” Hyunjin snickered. “And I haven’t seen Felix yet.”

I paused. “Felix is coming?”

“It was a last-minute thing,” Hyunjin explained. “Apparently, Felix is bringing someone he really likes.”

“I didn’t know Felix was interested in anyone,” I said, with the exception of Changbin’s little sister, of course.

“It’s getting late,” Hyunjin remarked. “He might have been lying.”

“He wasn’t dressed when I left the house,” I said, remembering the sight of my step-brother teasing Jisung and I from behind our parents while they took an endless amount of pictures while relentlessly questioning Jisung about his appearance.

Speaking of which, I graciously accepted the punch Jisung offered me, taking a sip before wincing. “I think someone added way too much.”

Hyunjin reached for my drink, sniffing the rim before downing the rest. “Not too bad.”

Jisung watched him with wide eyes. “Isn’t that strong?”

“Not strong enough,” Hyunjin complained. “I’m going to find something better. Have fun you two, make sure you use a condom if you’re gonna fuck.”

I glared at Hyunjin’s back as he disappeared into the crowd.

Yes, Prom might not have been high on my list of priorities, but the way Jisung was currently kissing me definitely made it more appealing. After ingesting an appropriate amount of alcohol, a tipsy Jisung had latched himself to my side, whispering rather inappropriate things into my ear before I inevitably found a place where we could be alone, safely tucked away inside the locker room. I drug Jisung to a bench where I immediately straddled his thighs, kissing him with enough force to throw him off balance, hand splayed across my hip as he forced his tongue inside my mouth tasting strongly of alcohol. I struggled to pull in enough oxygen to counter the dizziness threatening to send me falling into the floor. Jisung certainly wasn’t helping matters, squeezing my breasts spilling over the neckline of my dress while pressing sloppy kisses to my throat, erection hard through his dress pants and I had never felt hornier in my entire life. And that includes the time Minho bought me a vibrator for my birthday as a joke but I still tried to use it and ended up masturbating to the thought of Jisung fucking me on my mattress.

“You feel so good,” Jisung whispered to me now, rolling his hips into mine as he sought additional friction. I held tightly to the lapels of his jacket because it felt really nice through the thin fabric of my dress when he would move just right, pressing against my clit with a wonderful pressure that nearly made me cum before he could even put it inside.

“Sungie,” I panted into his ear, tasting every inch of his beautiful honey-golden skin. “Please fuck me.”

“Can I?” Jisung asked, thrusts growing erratic as if affected by just the thought of his cock hot and heavy between my thighs. “Yes, of course, baby. I’ll do that for you.”

“Condom?” I managed, reconnecting our lips because I was quickly coming to the realization that Jisung was a wonderful kisser.

“Shit,” he cursed against my mouth. “I left them in the car.”

“I’ll get them,” I said, reaching deep into the pocket of his suit pants for the key, inadvertently brushing against his cock.

Jisung moaned loudly. “Hurry back, baby.”

“And this!” I said, standing up from his lap to reach into my cleavage to pull out a piece of fabric.

“That was in there the whole time?”

“Not important,” I said, shoving the fabric at him. “Put this on?”

“What is it?” Jisung asked, unraveling the cloth.

“A blindfold,” I said and he looked up at me with evident surprise.

“Why do you want me to wear a blindfold?”

“Just put it on, please,” I begged him.

“Why?” Jisung whined, a complete contradiction to the mess he looked with an erection still prominent in his pants.

“I don’t want you to see me,” I said, blushing at the thought of Han Jisung seeing me naked because I was certainly nothing like those busty girls in the porn magazines I found under his mattress.

“Okay,” Jisung grumbled, probably because he was just as aroused as I was even if that meant doing something that might seem utterly ridiculous to anybody else.

“Don’t take it off,” I warned him, glancing over my shoulder to see Jisung tying the blindfold in place.

Satisfied, I silently rushed back into the gym, making my way to the exit despite the obscene displays taking place all around me courtesy of several pairings of passionate couples. I did my best to ignore them, even though I was pretty sure I saw Hwang Hyunjin in the center of the dance floor, shirt unbuttoned and chest exposed for everyone to see. But Hyunjin loved to be at the center of attention, so I left him to entertain the majority of the women flanking to him like a magnet while I jerked open the door to Jisung’s Sudan, finding the condoms across the dirty backseat of his car.

I grew even more excited just by looking at them, hiding them carefully in my hand as I rushed through the parking lot in my haste to find Jisung again. At this point, the party was in full swing, music loud and pounding, testing the acoustics of the YMCA which probably never hosted anything else this insane and chaotic before. But I was on cloud nine, ready to finally have sex with someone I had been crushing on ever since Jisung had shown off his abs to a doubtful Changbin. However, when I re-opened the doors to the locker room, I stumbled in my heels as I was greeted with an unfortunate visual. An unforgettable image of Kara on top of Jisung, kissing him passionately while she practically forced him to grope her chest. “Y/N,” Jisung moaned, apparently completely unaware of who was actually grinding on his dick.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” I finally shrieked, completely horrified at the display that would forever engrain itself into my subconscious.

Jisung immediately pulled off his blindfold, eyes widening in shock when he unceremoniously dumped Kara into the floor who loudly protested. “Y/N?”

“Jisung,” I said, looking back between him and Kara with panicked eyes and a broken heart. I had never felt so betrayed before in my entire life, and there had been moments when I felt downright disgusted with my poor choice in men. But Jisung was more important to me than the casual flings from my past, which probably explains my sudden desire to escape the situation that was forcing messy tears through the mascara clumping my eyelashes together. I left Jisung behind in that nasty locker room before losing myself to the crowd of my classmates.

There was only one person I wanted to see, and I found Hyunjin now re-clothed, talking to some other girls when he first saw me approach. He greeted me cheerfully, only realizing my condition once he stopped to notice the tears falling freely from my tired eyes. “Y/N,” Hyunjin said, expression falling as he pulled me into his arms tightly. “Why are you crying?”

“I saw her with Jisung,” was all I managed to get out before Hyunjin’s eyes were practically blazing with fury.

“That little shit,” Hyunjin cursed, grabbing my hand and leading me through the partygoers who were too busy drunkenly grinding on one another to notice the two of us. “Changbin,” Hyunjin said, interrupting the older boy who was currently fingering the edges of a freshman girl’s panties, practically dry humping through their clothes.

“What is it?” Changbin snapped at Hyunjin, eyes narrowed until they landed on me. “Y/N,” Changbin said, tone much softer as he abruptly dismissed his date who whined about their loss of contact. “What happened?”

“Jisung needs his ass kicked,” Hyunjin said and Changbin needed no further encouragement.

“Where the hell is he?”

It was frigidly cold in the parking lot and there was way too much going on around me. I could barely handle the yelling between Changbin and Felix, my step-brother having found us outside with Jisung trailing behind him, but Hyunjin was arguing with Seungmin and Jeongin, refusing to let Jisung close to me. This night was rapidly becoming one of the worst of my entire life and that says a lot because I had once watched my own father walk out of the house without so much as a goodbye.

“Get out of the way, Felix,” Changbin suddenly growled, fists balled at his sides.

“It’s not his fault,” Felix tried to explain.

“Why is Y/N upset, then?” Changbin demanded, shouldering his way through Seungmin and Jeongin who were certainly no match for a physically stronger Changbin.

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Felix said. “It’s Kara’s fault! She didn’t need to take things that far-”

“Kara!” Changbin interrupted, now even more furious than he was before. “Did you do something to my sister?”

“Not him,” Seungmin suddenly interfered. “Kara and Felix got into a fight and Kara snuck into the locker room to get back at him.”

Changbin took a step back, suspicion bright in his dark eyes. “What did you say?”

“I thought it was Y/N,” Jisung finally spoke up, eyes wet with tears. “She didn’t say anything to me. She just came over and I was waiting for Y/N!”

“What happened to my sister!” Changbin growled.

“She kissed me,” Jisung said, flinching a little when Changbin tried to charge at him, intercepted by Seungmin and Jeongin who held him back by his with as much force as they could manage together. Jisung turned to look at me, gaze entreating as he reached out a hand. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I thought it was you.”

I shook my head, refusing to even look at Han Jisung because my heart was hurting in my chest and the night just continued to grow more and more confusing. “I’ll take care of Y/N,” Hyunjin finally said, sending Jisung a nasty glare before guiding me further and further away from the source of my pain.

But don’t ever let anyone tell you that Seo Changbin didn’t have a soft spot for Han Jisung because, at the drop of a hat, the older boy would immediately be at my husband’s side. And I thoroughly took advantage of this when I asked Jisung to invite Changbin over to our house for dinner one night, the two of them arriving together with Changbin clutching tightly to his sleeping bag. “I guess you’re spending the night,” I remarked.

“Why wouldn’t I? We work at the same place,” came Changbin’s usual response, tossing his bag onto the couch while he followed Jisung into our bedroom, complaining about something to do with the air conditioning. “Your apartment is so much nicer than mine!”

I finished cooking in relative peace, making sure to keep Changbin’s wine glass constantly full because a tipsy Changbin was much easier to deal with than the serious version who would likely explode when he heard my story. “So nice of you Y/N,” Changbin said as he slurped his spaghetti. He and Jisung were always messy when it came to pasta so I tried to ignore their nasty habits.

“Changbin,” I said, studying the older carefully. “I heard Kara was visiting.”

Changbin shrugged, shoving more food into his impossibly small mouth. “She’s been staying at my place.”

“Really?” I asked. “Why haven’t we had a chance to meet her again.”

Changbin glanced up at me. “You don’t even like, Kara, so why would I bother?”

I rolled my eyes at him. “She’s your sister, of course, I would be interested.”

“She stays busy a lot,” Changbin said.

“With who?”

“With work,” Changbin said, taking another long drink of the expensive wine I bought just for this occasion.

“She could have come tonight,” I said carefully, but I had been apparently pushing too far because now Changbin was suspicious.

“What are you getting at, Y/N?”

I took a deep breath, sensing Jisung watching the two of us over a mouthful of noodles. “I saw Kara the other day at my mother’s dinner.”

Changbin paused, considering me with a scowl. “What?”

“She came to our dinner,” I repeated. “With Felix.”

And with the exception of Jisung’s chewing, the room had grown relatively silent. “Why am I just now hearing about this?”

Changbin turned an accusatory gaze at Jisung who just rapidly shook his head and drank more wine. “Probably because she didn’t want anyone to know,” I said. “I think your sister might be trying to start something with Felix again and we both know how badly that turned out last time.”

Changbin dropped his fork, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “So nice of everyone to keep me informed.”

I relaxed a little because Changbin wasn’t reacting as violently as I thought he might. “I wanted to be sure and I got the information I needed today.”

Changbin sighed. “What information?”

“Minho looked through Felix’s phone at their dance practice,” I said. “He saw some messages with Kara. Apparently, they’re going to dinner tomorrow night. Isn’t that nice?”

Changbin’s jaw clenched as he took in this news. “And I’m assuming you have something planned?”

“Maybe,” I said with an innocent shrug. “It could be that Minho, Hyunjin, and I happened to make a reservation at the same place.”

“You’re gonna spy on them?”

“Would you rather us not?”

Changbin scoffed, dark hair falling into his eyes. “Are you asking me to come?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Well of course I do,” Changbin grunted impatiently, reaching down for another forkful of spaghetti while I sat back in my chair with satisfaction.

“This is surprisingly classy of Felix,” Hyunjin remarked, rolling down the window of Minho’s SUV to perch a pair of binoculars on the end of his nose.

“Aren’t you taking this too far?” Minho asked his friend.

“These?” Hyunjin asked, adjusting the lenses. “How else am I supposed to see what’s going on?”

“This is my sister we’re talking about,” Changbin spoke up, tugging at the frayed sleeves of his borrowed jacket.

“And Y/N’s stepbrother,” Minho added.

“I don’t claim him by blood,” I said, reaching over to slap Changbin’s hands. “Stop messing with that, you’re gonna ruin it, and this is Jisung’s nicest coat!”

My husband in question had opted to stay at home since he was probably the smartest out of all of us when it came to potential confrontations. “You’re rich enough to buy him another,” Changbin grumbled.

“He doesn’t wear them,” I said. “I buy him all sorts of clothes, but they always sit in his closet.”

“Who’s he trying to impress at an Elementary school?” Hyunjin snorted.

“Can’t we just go inside already?” I asked, slowly massaging my throbbing temples.

“Yeah, but can you shimmy the lock on your door?” Minho requested. “I’m pretty sure it’s broken.”

I accommodated his request before the four of us walked into the restaurant with an air of nonchalance. Nothing but four friends since childhood deciding to eat out together for a gourmet meal. It reminded me of college when the four of us shared the same lecture, a one-time occurrence because Minho forgot a general education course, and we always ate together because it ended in the early evening.

Of course, there was always the matter of the other three using me to find the answers to our homework assignment because they didn’t feel like completing the calculations.

The hostess inside the restaurant greeted us, checking Hyunjin’s reservation before leading us to our table. “Do you see them?” Hyunjin asked, deciding not to be so discreet in the distracting way he moved his head around, surveying the restaurant landscape with a sharp eye.

“This is so stupid,” Changbin grimaced.

“Are you too cool to eat with us?” Minho joked, gasping when he noticed the free wine samples menu.

“I’ll look around,” I said. “Give me five minutes.”

“And then what?” Hyunjin asked even as I was already moving away, sticking to the outskirts of the finely decorated tables. According to Minho, Felix and Kara should have already been at the restaurant for half an hour, probably weighing the consequences of keeping their new affair a secret from the rest of us. But I had no intention of letting them sneak away with anything, determined to get to the bottom of whatever relationship Felix was attempting with Changbin’s little sister, the same person who had openly scorned and rejected Felix in the past. This really demonstrates just how powerful a crush can be when it involves someone as determined as Felix.

“Aha!” I murmured quietly, discovering the couple together near the private dining room at the back. Reaching for my cell phone, I sent Minho a quick text message, waiting for a moment or so before I could see the three boys carefully making their way to my hiding spot.

“Ridiculous,” Changbin muttered, but he let out a disappointed sigh when he saw his sister and Felix together. “I guess you were right.”

Changbin was squatting down in front of the display of plants, peeling back the branches to find a better view. “Damn, Changbin,” I said, reaching down to give his ass an appreciative slap. “Who are you trying to impress?”

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Changbin snapped at me. “It’s not my fault that Han’s flatter than his vocal pitch.”

“Burn,” Hyunjin remarked while I scoffed in response.

“Jisung is a great singer.”

“Yeah, the kids are so impressed,” Minho giggled, ignoring the glare I sent him over my shoulder.

“They can’t be dating,” Changbin said. “I would have known about this. Kara would have told me!”

“That definitely looks like a date to me,” Minho teased Changbin.

“Unless friends share five-star meals now,” Hyunjin commented, glancing at me. “Interested in eating out again tomorrow, Y/N?”

“Only if you pay,” I replied dryly, watching Felix and Kara with intent.

“I can’t stand this,” Changbin declared, attempting to blow our cover by rising to his full height.

I desperately tugged on his shirt. “They’ll see us!”

“I don’t care,” Changbin grunted, pulling away from me only to march down the staircase to where Felix and Kara were laughing together over a meal of what appeared to be filet mignon and cabernet.

“Should we watch or get involved?” I asked, grinning when Felix finally realized that Changbin had spotted them. The all-consuming look of existential dread passing across his features was well worth the price of admission, including an outrageous gratuity fee.

“Definitely watch,” Minho nodded, tossing an arm around my shoulders. “You did good, Y/N.”

“Unless Changbin causes a scene,” Hyunjin remarked.

“I hope he does because I can record it for Jisung later,” I said, letting out a satisfied grin when Changbin stopped at their table.

Minho was one step ahead of me, pressing the record button at the top of his phone. “Maybe we’ll become YouTube famous!”

“I can’t believe you told him,” Felix snapped at me later. The six of us were outside the restaurant, having decided to pull Changbin and Kara away from the reproachful eyes of the upper elite who wanted to dine in peace.

“Why wouldn’t I? I’m looking out for you.”

“By outing me to Changbin?”

“Of course,” I nodded, watching as Kara received a stern lecture from her older brother. “You can’t honestly be considering a relationship with Kara?”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Felix asked.

“You must have a selective memory,” I said. “Or did you forget what happened in high school?”

“That was a long time ago!”

“She also used you during college. Don’t tell me you think she came around campus just for your company?”

Hyunjin, from somewhere to my right, let out a low whistle. Minho stood next to him, taking in the drama unfolding around him with eager eyes. “I don’t care about any of that!” Felix protested. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Felix,” I said, lowering my tone. “I just want you to be happy.”

“Well you’re doing a really bad job with that,” Felix snapped.

“It’s not because I don’t want things to work out,” I said. “I just know who she is and what she’s capable of.”

“Is that so?”

“You were too, Felix! Everything she ever did to you was always in an effort to hurt you. That’s why I have to interfere, to make sure that she doesn’t do anything like that!”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t care. You aren’t my real sister, so stop trying to act like it!”

His words were crushing and I suddenly felt equivalent to the world’s smallest person as I watched Felix walk away into the haze of city lights.

Jisung was sunshine and he once told me that he would do everything in his power to make me happy, even getting down on one knee to propose at our college graduation ceremony, nervous hands sliding a beautiful ring onto my finger. Jisung always knew when I was feeling sad or angry, dropping everything that he had been working on to make me feel better. Like in instances such as this, when my step-brother publicly disowns me, walking away without looking back once to assess the damage he had made of my fragile heart. “I deserved it,” I told Jisung, closing my eyes against his chest as I enjoyed the soothing water of the bath he prepared for me.

“No, you didn’t,” Jisung countered, wrapping his arms tightly around my middle. “You thought you were helping him.”

“I guess I have no right to interfere,” I said. “Even if I’m worried that Kara will only hurt him again.”

“And she might,” Jisung agreed. “But I think Felix can handle it. Sometimes, you forget that he’s all grown up.”

“I ruined our relationship,” I said. “Felix won’t ever talk to me again and Kara is probably mad at Changbin.”

“Felix can’t avoid you,” Jisung said. “You have the same friends.”

“Ha,” I snorted. “You don’t know Felix very well. If he sets his mind to something, then there’s nothing that can stop him.”

“Actually, I do know Felix, and that’s why I’m pretty sure he’ll call you any day now and ask to talk.”

I turned around in his arms, trying to see any hint of teasing in Jisung’s brown eyes. “Why do you think that?”

“Because Felix respects you, even if you make him mad,” Jisung said, surprising me with a gentle kiss. “He told me all the time when we were younger that he thinks you’re one of the coolest people he’s ever met.”

“Felix said that?”

“Yeah,” Jisung nodded. “And I completely agree.”

“You’re obligated to say that,” I said. “Marriage and shit.”

“But I’ve always meant it, Y/N,” Jisung insisted. “You have a really good heart and you always have our best intentions in mind, even if that means you feel the need to spy on your step-brother.”

“Now it sounds creepy,” I complained.

“I can’t imagine you dragging around Changbin, Minho, and Hyunjin, hiding behind tables in the middle of an expensive restaurant.”

“That’s funny because I can’t imagine you in an expensive restaurant at all.”

“Really?” Jisung grinned, digging his fingers into my sides. “Try saying that again.”

I squealed in his arms, pleading for mercy. “I thought you wanted to relax?”

“This was all for you,” Jisung said, pulling me onto his lap. “I think we should go to bed early.”

“I am tired,” I smirked.

His cock was hard against my lower back. “What if I let you ride my face?”

“Then you’ll be the best husband in the world.”

The following Saturday, Jisung’s prediction came true when Felix’s name flashed across my phone screen while I enjoyed lunch with Seungmin and Jeongin. “It’s Felix,” I hissed at them before taking the call. “Hello?”

“Y/N,” Felix’s deep voice greeted me on the other end. “I hope you’re not busy.”

“I’m just having lunch,” I said, waving my hand at Seungmin who was attempting to mouth imperceptible words at me from across the table.

“I want to apologize for the other night with Kara,” Felix said. “At dad’s house and at the restaurant.”

“I’m sorry too, Felix,” I said. “I shouldn’t have told Changbin about his sister.”

“No,” Felix sighed. “But Changbin deserves to know the truth. He called me the other day and told me that Kara had left the next morning. She didn’t even bother telling him where she was going.”

I felt my heartbreak for my step-brother. “I didn’t think she would do that.”

“You don’t have to be nice, Y/N,” Felix said. “Everything you said about Kara was true and I should’ve listened.”

“I never did any of that to teach you a lesson, Felix.”

“Yeah,” Felix murmured into the phone. “It doesn't matter anymore. Kara’s gone and I’ll have to move on.”

“But I still feel really bad,” I said. “Maybe we could all hang out tonight? Like we did before we had adult things to worry about.”

Felix chuckled. “I think that sounds nice.”

“Keep your hands away from the food,” I scolded Jisung, giving his ass a firm slap before directing him out of the kitchen. “This is for the party tonight!”

“But it smells good,” Jisung complained.

“You can have as much as you want later,” I said, frowning at Changbin from across the room. “Are you trying to break my mother’s vase?”

The older boy scowled at me. “I can’t reach, alright? You were the one who asked me to decorate.”

“Please help him,” I said, sending Jisung rushing to hang up the streamers before Changbin could possibly sabotage our apartment. The others were due to arrive at any moment and I was already unprepared, food still cooking and my husband and his friend proving to be completely inept at decorating. I wanted everything to be nice for Felix, but honestly? He shouldn’t expect much from this crew.

Graciously, the arrival of Hyunjin brought about an extra few inches of height, allowing the streamers to hang gracefully from the mantlepiece. “What would you do without me, Y/N?” he inquired innocently, handing me the cake he had brought from our cafe.

“I’d need to buy a step ladder,” I teased him, rushing back into the safety of the kitchen to avoid his retaliation. In the meantime, Jisung happily answered the door for our other guests, ushering them inside to crowd our living room. Sadly, our apartment was never meant to be large enough to accommodate this many guests, but it was strangely cozy with all of us together.

“It’s been a while,” Chan remarked to Changbin. “Why don’t we do this sort of thing anymore?”

“Beats me,” Changbin replied. “But Y/N has a nice selection of wine.”

“I’m glad that’s the reason you come around,” I remarked, bringing out the final tray of food to fill out the rest of the table. “Whenever Felix gets here we can eat.”

“He shouldn’t be so late,” Minho said, trying his best to sneak a cube of cheese from the corner.

“Patience my friend,” I said. “It will make everything taste so much better.”

“Not with your cooking,” Minho teased, protesting when I threw my oven mitt at him over the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room.

“You’ll never change,” I remarked.

“Why would you want me to?” Minho asked, ignoring my glare when he grabbed a handful of popcorn.

“Do you want to be suspended from my house?”

“Jisung would never allow it,” he said, whining at my husband. “Right, Sungie?”

Jisung looked back and forth between the two of us. “You two are sometimes worse than my kids at school.”

Before I could offer a compelling comeback, the ringing of our doorbell paused our conversation. The sound indicated Felix’s arrival and Seungmin was the first to greet him, holding him close as they entered the dining room. “Nice of you to join us,” I said, handing my step-brother a plate. “This is all for you.”

“I’m honored,” Felix said, accent thick as he abruptly pulled me into a vice-like grip that nearly knocked me off my feet.

“Too much,” I choked out.

“Don’t kill my wife,” Jisung joked, intervening before Felix could possibly squeeze any more oxygen from my lungs.

The remainder of the evening passed by with a nostalgic tone, the nine of us gathered together in the living room to watch anime on TV while Hyunjin complained about our newest hiree again. “Hey,” he said, snapping his fingers in my direction. “He already had two strikes. One more mess-up and he’s gone.”

“He’s just a kid, Hyunjin,” I said. “Remember when you used to work at Starbucks? I’m surprised you even managed to stay on for an entire year!”

Hyunjin protested loudly over the laughter of 8 other people who clearly remembered sitting in Starbucks on Campus just to watch Hyunjin mess-up orders while whining at the customers to slow down when he was in charge of the register. “He gave me a macchiato when I asked for an Americano,” Minho said.

“One time, Hyunjin closed the store an hour early because he forgot about our project,” Seungmin interjected much to Hyunjin’s chagrin who was now very much embarrassed.

Jisung pulled me closer to him on the chair next to the fireplace, watching our friends talk with obvious affection. “I think Felix is happy.”

I nodded my agreement, observing him from afar. “We did a good job.”

“You did a good job,” Jisung corrected, leaning in closer to whisper directly into my ear. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Love you more,” I said, gripping tightly to Jisung’s hand with no intention of ever letting go because our hold on another had never lessened from the very first day we met as kids, unaware that we would be sharing the rest of our forever together.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #han jisung #han jisung fanfic #han jisung smut #stray kids han #han fanfic #han smut

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altumvidetur · 4 years

Text

MCU Daredevil: MattFoggy Fic Recs

MCU Fic Recs Masterpost

So, I was thinking about the coronavirus pandemic and what I could do to help people out. I’m isolated because I’m at higher risk, so I can’t really offer to go out for my elderly neighbors or my family… but I thought I could try to help keep people entertained.

Because I don’t have an AO3 account right now, I’ve been compiling fic recs for my own amusement for a year or so. And I thought – maybe that’s the time to share these with everyone? So everyone will have plenty of things to read while they have to stay at home, or even to escape anxiety a little bit if you’re forced to go out.

Of course, these cater to my own tastes, so you may find stuff you don’t like around here. I never include works in progress. The Mature and Explicit works will be in italic. I ask you to READ THE WORK’S TAGS before continuing, so you won’t find anything that makes you uncomfortable.

I didn’t actually watch season 3 of Daredevil, so my recs are all from before that. I still plan to watch, so please take that into account when interacting with this post!

Fitter. Happier. More Productive., by what_alchemy

Matt tries to let go. He's not too good at it.

through the bookcase, imagining a scene, by returnsandreturns

“He’s back,” Karen says, making Foggy jump and drop his armful of books. She winces and drops down immediately to help him pick them up.

“Matt?” Foggy asks. It’s an optimistic guess—there are a lot of guys who could be back, like the guy who sits in a study carrel and eats peanut butter out of a jar with his hands and Uncomfortable Religious Missionary Guy, who is actually three different guys.

“Yep,” she replies, nodding and widening her eyes when she grins. “He’s flirting with the circulation ladies, which means you’ve got just enough time to steal my shift at the reference desk before he gets there.”

The Constellation of Touch, by what_alchemy

Months after Fisk is put away, nothing's right between the partners at Nelson and Murdock. But Christmas is here, and Matt is still expected at the Nelson house.

you won’t get better till you’re worse, by annperkinsface

The road to forgiveness has a lot of vodka.

my name on your lips, by unnecessary

It starts when Matt and Marci have coffee. Then Foggy and Claire have coffee. Then Claire throws a Christmas party, and really, it isn't like Foggy means to keep almost confessing to Matt, but can anyone really blame him?

I Decided This, by patster223

“I’m contributing yet another lovely sign to our office,” Foggy says, brandishing the finished product with a flourish. Matt can’t see the sign, but he can probably sense the flourish, which is what matters. “It says, ‘It has been ‘0’ days since Matt made an idiotic decision.’”

“Doesn’t seem like it will inspire much trust from our clients.”

What the sign instead inspires: debates, understanding, a patented Murdock-level guilt trip, ice cream celebrations, a kiss, and perhaps even a way to finally move forward.

We Just Lost the Beat, by knight_tracer and lady_ragnell

Matt hears a lot in the city at night, sirens and crime--and the late-night radio show Foggy With a Chance, which sometimes runs a Daredevil Watch if he's been particularly active, but which mostly plays music. He probably shouldn't call in and request a song, but he does it anyway.

I’ll Most Likely Kill You in the Morning, by inkfingers_mcgee

Foggy and Matt never met at school. They cross paths for the first time while working opposite sides of a case, and Matt doesn't leave an impression beyond the superficial: a blind, pro-bono crusader who Foggy will feel really guilty about having to oppose in court one of these days. Seemed like a nice guy, but no one Foggy will worry about a week later.

He has more important things on his mind, like the masked vigilante who keeps cornering him in dark alleys to threaten him for information.

Touch Me, Don’t Feel Me, by fabella

Foggy struggles to navigate a casual sexual relationship with Matt after the events of season two. It's predictably complicated.

Hold Me Fast and Fear Me Not, by lady_ragnell

Something in New York has everyone walking around with iron in their pockets, and it seems like the vigilante they're calling the Devil of Hell's Kitchen is at the center of it all. Foggy knows how to steer clear of that kind of trouble, but when the Devil seeks him out, he ends up in the middle of it with him.

A Janet and Tam Lin AU.

jump, check parachute, by augustbird

Foggy Nelson: good at law, terrible at feelings.

Just Wanna Take Him Home, by lady_ragnell

Foggy mostly takes little old ladies to parties doing escort jobs, which he's fine with.

Getting hired to spend two hours hugging a lawyer is kind of a departure. He should have known it would all get complicated fast.

Daredevils Don’t Drink Decaf, by ChuckleVoodoos

“I really, really want to make a joke about bats and blindness. Will you punch me if I make a joke about bats and blindness?” Matt shakes his head, grinning. “Okay, so we’re Superspud and Blind-As-A-Batman.”

In which Foggy uses his law degree to peddle coffee to unsuspecting caffeine junkies, and Matt is his favorite customer. Who may or may not be Batman.

Say You’ll Still Be By My Side, by lady_ragnell

Bless me, Foggy, for I have sinned.

Eres Mi Grande Avocado, by ChuckleVoodoos

Matt's got this way of speaking in Spanish that's just a little different than his way of speaking in English. In English, all of Matt's words are carefully weighed and measured and cut like crystal. They're precious but planned. With Spanish, the words seem to fall like drops of liquid gold, hot and rich and wild, and it makes Foggy want to gather them to himself and finally be warm.

Gazelle, Lion, Gun, by ChuckleVoodoos

The Devil of Hell's Kitchen has got some competition. Sassy sharpshooters do not make good crime-fighting partners, except that they really do.

Dream Catcher, by ChuckleVoodoos

When Matt has nightmares, so does Foggy. Unfortunately, Matt has a lot of nightmares. Even when he's not asleep.

Or: Matt visits Foggy after the bombings, and it doesn't go well.

Red Cross, by ChuckleVoodoos

Foggy is perfectly happy being a law-abiding physician with a weakness for cupcakes.

No one else seems to understand this.

Rocky Horror Pancake Show, by ChuckleVoodoos

Foggy falls asleep at exactly 12:00 AM, and he’s making a wish. He wakes up at 12:00 AM too—twenty-four hours before he fell asleep.

"Let's do the time warp again!"

The Boxer-Puncher, by one_flying_ace

“Matt, you’re my best friend, but you’re a goddamn idiot sometimes. It’s not about you. I’m not training, I’m not looking to get in a ring or do what you do. I just wanted to know a little more.” He says it fiercely, strongly, right into Matt’s ear like that’ll get it through to him any easier. “It’s not like I’m any good at it,” he adds, which is probably a mistake.

His heartbeat definitely spikes on the lie, because Matt flinches.

if ever joy surrounds you (you have to let it), by KiaraSayre

"I mean, I did think that maybe vigilantism is actually good for you in terms of, like, self-actualization or whatever, but - have you been seeing a therapist or something? Good talks with your priest?"

(Or, it's weird how weird things aren't between Matt and Foggy. Particularly when they're talking about boners.)

That Spin I’m In, by Werelibrarian and poisonivory

"What does that mean?" Matt asks Strange.

"Well, that depends," Strange says, unfolding his legs and letting his feet touch the floor again. Matt gets the distinct impression Strange is hedging. "Are you currently suffering heartbreak?"

Matt very carefully doesn't think about Elektra. Or Karen. Or Foggy. "Let's leave my personal life out of this."

Strange clears his throat. "Yes, well, that option may no longer be on the table."

Matt really hates magic.

How Your Heart Pounds Inside Me, by poisonivory

Hiring a surrogate alpha is supposed to be the simplest way to get through a heat - and Matt doesn't want to risk his heart again, not after the last time. But nothing in Matt's life is ever simple, and when his surrogate turns up again to oppose both Matt Murdock, Attorney-at-Law and the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, it's more than just Matt's heart at risk.

Just Our Hands Clasped So Tight, by poisonivory

If there's one thing Foggy Nelson knows about Matt Murdock, it's how tactile he is.

Will You, by poisonivory

Foggy's always joking when he asks Matt to marry him. Matt's always serious when he says yes.

- OR -

Five proposals Foggy forgot, and one Matt makes sure he'll remember.

Stay In My Arms (If You Dare), by poisonivory

The Defenders are the most elite bodyguard agency in the world. When Wilson Fisk's personal attorney Foggy Nelson walks in looking for protection from a mysterious man in black, Matt Murdock is more than happy to take Mr. Nelson's safety in hand. But Nelson's guilt is hard to prove, and Matt may have gotten himself in too deep - especially once someone besides the man in black starts gunning for his client.

I Would Know You by Touch Alone, by unnecessary

It doesn’t matter if Matt has a soulmate, because if he does, it’s not Foggy.

Written for this prompt on the kink meme: “Foggy’s soulmate mark is raised birthmarks that read ‘Matt’ in Braille.”

...Aaaaaand a series within the Spider-Gwen universe:

The Lawyer All the Wickedness, by poisonivory

(Summary by me: in which Foggy is, at turns, angered, baffled and aroused by scumbag defense attorney Matt Murdock.)

#daredevil #mcu #mattfoggy #fic recs #matt murdock #foggy nelson #otp: avocados at law #please warn me if any links are broken #and reblog it if you can so more people will see it

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paintingwithwords · 5 years

Text

mother

I just found out that my mother died yesterday.

We were not close. We never were, not really. We hadn’t spoken in over ten years and that was my choice.

She was 17 when she had me. When I was two months old, she left me at my grandmother’s house and ran away. My grandmother raised me until I was 13.

I saw her a few times during my childhood, but not many. Most of those times were very strained. Like most children, I wanted her love and her approval, but I never got very much of either one. Most of the time, she acted as though I annoyed her. Yes, little kids can be annoying, I know this well, but I also remember how it hurt to have her push me away or to see her roll her eyes when I talked to her. It made it very hard to warm up to her when I eventually went to live with her.

Had my grandmother not had a heart attack, I don’t think she would have ever taken me in. I remember hearing her discussing what to do with me with her two older brothers. I overheard them arguing in my uncle’s den. I remember them telling her that it was time for her to take responsibility and that they didn’t want it.

It’s really hard being 13 years old and hearing that your family doesn’t want you and having no say over what happens to you now that the person who has cared for you can’t do it any longer.

Her husband’s family didn’t even know of my existence. They knew about my younger brother because she kept him. She was embarrassed and ashamed that she’d had him when she was 19, so it’s really no wonder that she never mentioned me and tried to act like I didn’t exist.

Shortly after I made the move from Houston to Austin and moved into her house, I overheard my mother, my stepfather, and my little brother in the living room, laughing. I peeked around the corner and saw them all on the couch, a photo album spread out between them. They were talking about the good old days, when it had been just the three of them.

I turned around and went back to my room and found another book to read.

My mother wasn’t pleased to have around. When I was 14 and broke my finger in the park a few blocks from our house (I tried to do a cartwheel and found the sprinkler hidden in the grass), she told me it was just jammed and to go to sleep.

“If it still hurts in the morning,” she said, “I’ll take you to the doctor.”

I lay in bed that night with ice on my finger, waiting for dawn. At first light, I woke her up and asked her to please take me to the doctor. My finger was swollen to twice its size and was purple. She was so mad at me, making her miss a day of work. She was a hairstylist and this meant that her clients would either have to rebook or have someone else do their hair that day. She might lose some of them because of me. I felt awful: I was tired and in pain and getting yelled at for being a kid. I cried on the way there, but I didn’t make noise and I kept my head turned towards the window so she wouldn’t know.

I had a hairline fracture and got a finger splint. My mother lost a day’s pay, but thankfully kept all her clients.

When I began writing at 15, I couldn’t wait to tell her. She had written in high school too and I thought this would be something we could share, something that would help us draw closer to one another. (Even then, I still craved my mother’s approval, like a drug.)

I was wrong.

I can still see her face, her eyes narrowed and her mouth drawn up in a tight pucker. She turned on me and said in a quiet, cold voice, “You know I wanted to write.”

“Yes,” I replied, but I already knew this wasn’t going to go the way I’d hoped.

“I was good,” she told me. She was seething. “I could have been something, done something with my writing. But I had you instead.”

I felt so small. All I wanted to do was go away and hide in my room, like I did so often. But later, I was angry. I fucked up her life? I kept her from making something of herself? How? She didn’t keep me. She left me when I was just an infant. How was I responsible for the fact that she never did anything with her writing?

I could have called her on it, but I didn’t. (I’ve always avoided conflict. I apologize when I did no wrong to try to smooth things over, desperate to keep the peace.) I stood there and took it and when she was done I scuttled away to my room and cried into my pillow.

But maybe… maybe if she saw what I wrote, maybe it would be okay. Maybe she would come around. Maybe that wound I’d inadvertently opened up would heal over and we’d be okay.

God, I was a fool.

I showed her a few things I’d written. She always took them, with an air about her like I was bothering her, and read them. I stopped showing her my work when one day, halfway through a story I’d written, she threw the papers down on the counter and muttered, “Anne, when are you going to write anything that’s any good?”

Silently, I took the pages and retreated to my room. I smoothed them out. But instead of crying, I vowed that the next time she read a work of fiction I’d created, she’d have to buy it from a bookstore.

Spite is one hell of a drug.

When I was 17, she and my stepfather split. I shocked them both when I said it was a good thing. “All you two do is yell at each other. Why are you together if all you do is fight?”

A week later, she moved out and got her own apartment on the other end of town. A couple of weeks after that, my senior year of high school started. My little brother and I stayed in the house with my stepfather.

(Years later, once I had a child of my own, my mother confessed to me, “When Joe and I split up, I thought about asking you to move out with me…”

My heart soared! I was elated! My mother had wanted me? She’d never wanted me before—

“…because you had a job and could help pay rent.”

I was still riding the high of knowing she’d wanted me when the weight of her words crushed me. She’d only wanted my money. My teenaged, minimum-wage, fast food job money.

After we got off the phone, I cried. I held my infant daughter and I wailed like a child.)

A couple of weeks into my senior year, my stepfather threw me out. I mouthed off to him and he told me to get out. So I did. I stayed with friends, got a boyfriend and moved in with him, and still somehow or another managed to graduate from high school. And with honors, at that.

A few years later, we began to talk again. For a while, things were good. But it didn’t last. She came to see me as a rival in all things, even saying to me at one point, “Anne, does it bother you that I’m more intelligent that you, more attractive than you, and I can compete with you on the same level?”

I was floored. Your mother is never supposed to say something like that to you. EVER.

All I could say was, “What?”

She laughed and patted me on the knee. “Oh, it does,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

But she wasn’t. She thought I liked a guy and she made a play for him. Never mind the fact that he was 2 years younger than me...

And that set everything else into motion.

That happened when I was 25. It was four years before I finally entered therapy. I was supposed to go to her house for Mother’s Day, but a couple of days beforehand, I called her up and apologized.

“Hey, would it be okay if I skipped Mother’s Day this time? I’m in therapy and I’m dealing with some really hard stuff right now.”

She laughed at me. “Yeah, it’s okay,” she said. “It’s not like we’ll never see one another again.”

But it was. I knew I had to make a clean break, that to keep in contact with her was to continue to allow myself to be poisoned and manipulated. Members of that side of the family have turned the guilt trip into an art form.

When I had my child, I knew I wanted to talk to my mother again, but that I had to keep her at a distance. I had no desire to let her get inside my daughter’s head. I never let her know where we lived. I never went to go see her. She never saw my daughter. And now…

Now she never will.

Don’t ask me how I feel about that. I’m still processing.

A year ago, my daughter came to me and told me she had a few ideas for a story. She came to me while I was making dinner. Poor thing: she was so nervous. I hugged her and let her know how happy I was that she had found this creative outlet.

“That’s fantastic!” I said to her. “Tell me about your story.”

It’s a ritual for us now. We talk about plot twists in our stories while I make dinner. There are times when it’s a bit overwhelming and I have to tell her to throttle down a little (she’s 15 and excitable, okay?) and there are things about my stories that I don’t tell her, but I don’t want to cut off those lines of communication.

I’m not a perfect mother. There’s no such thing. I screw up. But I often use my experiences with my mother as a model for what not to do. It’s the only model I have and I don’t want to go down that road with my own daughter.

Right now, I don’t know how I feel. I feel hollow, numb, and at the same time angry. But I also feel liberated. We’re free. I’m free. She can’t hurt us anymore. She can’t hurt me anymore.

I won. But God, why did it have to be a fucking war in the first place?

#my mother died

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bat-losers-inc · 5 years

Text

Kintsugi: Chapter 7

Summary: Final Crisis/Red Robin AU. Dick admits Tim to a psychiatric facility after Bruce is lost in time. Jason finds him suffering at the hands of a Scarecrow-copycat and breaks him out. While safe in Jason’s apartment, Tim still struggles with panic attacks and drug withdrawal. At a loss for what to do, Jason calls Roy Harper.

Pairings: Jason Todd & Tim Drake, Jason Todd & Dick Grayson, Roy Harper & Jason Todd.

“I think it’s time that you go,” said Roy, placing a firm hand on Dick’s shoulder in a way that made it clear Dick would find himself on the other side of that door soon, whether he walked there on his own accord or not.

Still, Dick continued to plead his case. “All I want to do is help.”

Jason shook his head. “It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?”

He didn’t know when his previous show of angry bravado had faded to a weariness for this constant in-fighting. Maybe it was when he’d had a good long look at Dick’s stricken expression after he’d delivered the news about the emancipation papers. An indescribable look had flickered across his features as the knowledge settled into his bones… the knowledge that Tim might amputate his entire relationship with him— like Dick was a diseased limb that could kill him if left to fester and spread. Jason knew the feeling intimately and it felt like a special kind of death.

Suddenly, he felt torn in two. Where did his loyalty lie?

With Tim? Dick? Himself? There was his survival instinct kicking in again; telling him to fuck them all and run for the hills.

Jason hung back and watched on as Dick took a reluctant step backwards as Roy crowded him, forcing him step by step towards the exit. Dick didn’t even waste his energy trying to change Roy’s mind, his whole attention was focused on Jason as if he knew that he was the only real person in the room with the power to stop his ejection. It was true, he could stop this if he wanted— sit down with Dick and talk it out, but Jason felt powerless to force his own body into movement, stuck fast where he stood unable to make up his mind whether to help or hinder his brother.

Would hearing him out betray Tim?

“Just let me explain my side of things before you shut me out, please?”

For all the shitty things that Dick had done to him in the past, Jason knew that, even when wrong, those deeds were done with good intentions. Maybe it was because of that that Jason never had the heart to watch Dick beg.

He found his voice. “Roy, wait.”

Roy looked over his shoulder, hand still pushing against Dick’s upper body. “You sure you want to do this?”

Jason would only be leading himself into the possibility of future manipulation if he took Tim’s side on every issue without question. Tim had already shown them that he knew how to play on their concerns for his well-being in order to get drugs from them. It hadn’t worked, and Tim had been quick to back off and save face, but just the fact that he’d done it with such guile on his first try had hit Jason like a blow to the head.

“Yeah.”

Roy dropped his hand away and Dick stood patiently as he waited for Roy to back up and give him some breathing room.

“Can we go inside and talk about this?” asked Dick.

“No. Not while Tim’s in there. I don’t want him to have to hear this.”

Dick’s brow creased. “You don’t want him to hear my side of the story?”

Jason knuckled his temple in an attempt to ease the tension building up there.

“Honestly, hearing it won’t mean shit to him. All of the apologies you have to give won’t mean shit to him. Because they won’t change what happened as a result of your actions. Stop apologizing. Learn from your mistakes. Live with it.”

“You say that like it’s so easy.”

Jason shrugged and said nothing, choosing instead to stub the toe of his boot against the grease splattered floor. It wasn’t an easy thing to do and Dick knew that, so there was really nothing more he could say. He wasn’t going to lie.

“You weren’t there…” Dick trailed off just as quickly as he’d started.

He threw his arms out at his side, limbs heavy with such a visible weariness that it made Jason feel like he’d just watched him walk into Gotham River until his head disappeared under it’s dark water. Dick was drowning, that much was clear.

He waited patiently for Dick to gathering himself and continue, stewing with his own uneasy thoughts as the silence dragged on.

“You weren’t there to see what is was like after Bruce’s funeral. I had to take over being Batman and it was clear that Damian needed the mentorship that came with being Robin. I felt horrible for taking that away from Tim. Horrible! But… Damian didn’t just lose Batman. He also lost his father… I figured Tim would understand that and come around to creating a new persona with time.”

“It seemed like he’d started to with Red Robin. So why didn’t you leave him be?”

“Because he came back to the manor with some crazy theory that Bruce wasn’t actually dead but lost.”

“Lost? Like, what,” asked Jason, “in the woods?”

“Washed up on a desert island like Green Arrow?” asked Roy clearly happy for the change in conversation.

“No, like lost in space and time.” Dick threw up his hands. “I mean, it was absolutely insane! We buried his bones in the family plot. There was physical evidence— forensic reports for Tim to read— and still he kept going on about it. He’d practically barricaded himself inside his apartment. He wouldn’t come back to the manor—”

“So you thought committing him to a psych ward was the next best step?” asked Jason.

“Yes! I made the choice to give him the psychological care he needed.”

“Maybe he didn’t need psychological help! Maybe he just needed someone to listen to him.”

Dick blinked at him. “Are you saying you believe him?”

“We live in a world of aliens, metahumans, and lazarus pits. Does Tim’s theory have some very large, adult male body-size holes in it? Yeah, one hundred percent. Is it impossible?” He racked a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I don’t know. But, I would have at least listened to him and it was shitty of you to not even call me and ask for help.”

“That guilt trip works both ways, Jason.” said Dick. “You could have reached out just as easily as I could.”

“He’s got a point there, Jaybird.”

“Yeah. Now look where it’s gotten us.”

Dick nodded and cast his gaze about the room, but whatever he was looking for his eyes never settled on it. Finally, he looked between Jason and Roy and extended his hand to Jason. “Truce? For Tim’s sake.”

Jason stared at his hand for a long moment, weighing out the options in his head. He’d settled on his answer and was ready to state it— whether it was the right decision or not— when he was blinded by a blur of denim fabric and curly hair as a woman fell into him. He caught her by the shoulders and righted her, hands lingering for a minute to allow her to totter back on her chunky heels.

She straightened up and took a step back.

“Daisy?” said Jason.

Daisy adjusted the tight dress she wore beneath her oversized denim jacket so that it rested to mid thigh. She pushed her blonde curls out of her eyes and flashed him a smile. “Hey, Jay. Sorry for running into you, literally, but it’s a bit of an emergency. Well, I think it is, anyway.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry—” Dick shouldered his way in between them. “Who is this and why is she in your safehouse?”

“Weren’t you listening?” said Roy. “This is Daisy.”

“Hey there, Daise,” Roy flashed her a smile and jutted a finger in Dick’s direction. “this is our friend, Dick. Don’t worry he’s in the night business too.”

Daisy gave Dick an appreciative once over. “My kind or yours?”

Roy crowed with laughter. “Ours. But you hear that, Dickie? If this line of work doesn’t pan out for you, you always have something to fall back on.”

Dick looked less than amused. “Yeah, hilarious. What is she doing here?”

“Daisy and I have a mutually beneficial business arrangement.”

“How’s that?”

“Well,” said Jason. “I make a habit of keeping an eye on Daisy and the other girls who work this neighborhood. You know, run off any troublemakers. In exchange for my services, Daisy reports any suspicious activity she sees in the area.”

Daisy gave Jason’s shoulder a playful shove. “Yeah and sometimes he climbs into my place through the window at four in the morning and asks me to cauterize his bullet wounds with a bottle of vodka and my best curling iron.”

“Oh, real professional, Jason!”

“Yeah we’ve gotta be, don’t we? ‘Cause I mean this boy’s got thighs that make me wanna…” She trailed off with a giggle. “Well... let’s just say I’ve seen more of this boy’s skin than half of my clients combined.”

Jason ducked his head with a smile. He thought he heard Daisy offering her specialty medical services to Dick (no curling iron service fee included) in an sly undertone to Dick but couldn’t be sure. For all at once Daisy turned back and punched him hard in the shoulder.

“Wait! What am I even doing right now? I totally forgot what I came here to tell you!”

“Ow. Well what is it?” asked Jason, with slightly less warmth than before as he rubbed his sore shoulder.

“That kid that’s staying with you? Saw him climb down your fire escape and head off towards the nearest subway. I could tell even from a distance that he didn’t look in a good way— kinda sweaty and wrung out. ”

Jason’s heart jumped to his throat, all humor dashed in an instant. He spun at once to find Roy, who was already halfway off the stool he’d been sitting on. “Go check the rooms now.”

Roy flew around the railing and up the steps into the safehouse, the door flying open under his hand. Jason tried to gather his thoughts but it was hard to concentrate when the door banged against its frame like a drum playing the offbeat to the rhythmic pound of blood pumping through his ears. He tried to think of the last time he remembered Tim being in the room with them, but he’d been so focused on yelling at Dick in that moment that he’d barely noticed the kid slip out behind him.

“How long ago was this?”

Daisy tossed her hair out of her face. “Uh, maybe five minutes ago now?”

Roy came whipping around the corner, catching himself hurriedly against the stairway rail. “Gone.”

“I’m going out after him.” said Dick.

“Wait— What?” Jason shouted at his retreating back. “You don’t even know where he’s going!”

He was already gone. Behind him Roy was questioning Daisy further.

“You sure it was towards the bridge?”

Daisy nodded.

“Ok. If he’s heading downtown on the subway where’s the nearest place he could score?”

“How do we even know he’s taking the subway? He could be looking for a dealer on the street for all we know! God, this is a fucking mess!”

Roy shook his head. “Unlikely. He doesn’t know the area and who deals nearby. More likely that he’s going to an established dealing ground.”

“I don’t know what he knows or doesn’t know,” snapped Jason. “Truth is; I don’t know that kid half as well as I like to think I do.”

“Hey,” Roy snapped his fingers sharply in Jason’s face. “Stop losing your shit. If I’m wrong and he’s on the streets there’s a chance Dick will find him. If I’m right, then we go and stop him before he makes a big mistake. So, think Jason! I know you’ve got feelers out on every shady dealer and scoring ground south of the Bowery. He’s a minor who’s strapped for cash and sick from withdrawal. Where’s he heading?”

Jason pressed his palm to his eyes and thought hard. “The Iceberg Lounge. Penguin’s club brings in a large crowd of criminals from all backgrounds. He’s got the best chance of scoring there.”

Roy ruffled Jason’s hair. “Let’s go bring him home, Jaybird.”

#kintsugi #jason todd #dick grayson #roy harper #Tim Drake #angst #batman #red hood #nightwing #arsenal #Red Robin #fanfiction #batman fanfic

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sarahboseman · 6 years

Text

WHEN YOU LEAST EXPECT IT (PART 5)

CHADWICK BOSEMAN X READER

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

WORD COUNT: 2600

WARNING : None

TAGLIST:

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“Well done Y/N, it's time to look ahead, it's time to stop thinking about the past, it's time to try starting a new life and not think about him anymore"

You say to yourself taking a last look in the mirror of your bedroom to check if your outfit is ok.

"Five months, almost five fucking months and he didn’t bother to unblock my phone"

Yes, because he had blocked you on all fronts, not just as a whatsapp contact, but as a phone contact. So you couldn’t call him or even send a normal message.

You know all this not because YOU tried, but because Aisha and Jason have tried, many times, seizing your phone without your knowledge.

"It really sounds like a revenge to me too. But you can’t blame Y/N ... even if I'm a man and I wouldn't have behaved like that. "

"Or … that bitch of his girlfriend found your conversation and blocked you. Maybe he doesn’t even know you’re blocked!! Y/N have you thought about that? Give him the benefit of the doubt. Boseman is really cool, I would give it to him ... "

"Aishaaaaaaa !!!!!!"

“A CHANCE Y/N!!! I would give him a chance! The benefit of the doubt!"

Yes, Aisha was able to put this idea into your mind, but ... You don’t know, you just didn’t want to think about him anymore.

You agreed to go out for dinner with Kevin, a Jason’s friend. He introduced him to you a few days ago and he's not so bad. Smart, witty, sense of humor, and a very good looking guy, nice body, broad shoulders, mysterious eyes, full lips as you like and a nice ... smile.

You put yourself on fire tonight, short tight dress, stiletto heel, but low neckline, perfectly shaved smooth legs. Your natural curls loose, a little bit of make-up on the eyes and betting everything on the lipstick, waterproof without trace, let's hope for the best … You turn around again to check if everything is ok, take your bag and get out. He's already down there waiting for you ... He also has a nice car, you don’t really know what you want more.

He takes you to an Italian restaurant near St. James Park, where food is really good, you went there some time ago when your parents came to see you. Dinner is very pleasant, as is the conversation and the mild flirting between you. Winking looks, sweet smiles, your foot that accidentally touches his ankle and calf ...

Kevin caresses your hand and at the end of the dinner he asks you if you want to go for a walk and have a drink, but you (impudent and impatient) ask him if he wants to come back to your place and have a drink there.

“Of course, with great pleasure …"

"Ok then ... let's go then"

At that moment you try to remember if you have paired your underwear ... "Set with black lace, yes it can fit" you say to yourself while you open the front door.

The last man who came into your house was ... No, you don’t have to think about it! No Chadwick tonight, no thoughts and no guilt.

"Anything to drink?" You ask him as you approach him getting rid of your heels that are driving you crazy. He shakes his head and, as an expert, he takes your hips and approaches you, kissing you deeply without warning. His hands flow on your back and your caresses first his neck and then his shoulders, while the kiss intensifies more and more you let yourself go.

"Where is the bedroom?" He asks you after making sure that what is happening is good for both. "On your left ..." you nod your head while using the weight of your body to guide him in the right direction.

You unbutton his shirt while he pulls down the zip of your dress letting it fall down on the floor. Throwing yourself on the bed, he tries to get rid of your pants while you try not to think about anything and enjoy this moment of transgression. You’re not the type of person who sleep with someone on the first date, but right now you don’t care, because you would do anything to try to forget Boseman and distract yourself and this seems like a good distraction. It's perfidious, petty and very selfish, but you've decided to follow Aisha's advice and also your sister’s "You know, the most beautiful love stories came from a night of sex" So why not ...

Kevin is doing a great job, his lips are on your breast, over the lace of your bra, his big hands caressing your legs making you arch your back for the good feeling. You close your eyes and inhale. His mouth on your stomach and on your belly button teases you on the edge of your panties and when you feel his tongue over the lace of your panties, you exhale and moan "Chad ..."

You widen your eyes as soon as you realize you said that name "Fuck!", Kevin doesn’t seem to have noticed it, fortunately, but your mood suddenly changes.

You try to enjoy his love effusions, his attentions, he’s fantastic, but as soon as you close your eyes, it’s not his face you see in front of you.

"What the fuck!" You suddenly say, banging your hand on the bed.

"What? Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no absolutely ... It’s not your fault. I'm the problem” you confess, exhaling loudly and looking at the ceiling.

Kevin looks at you from the middle of your legs, waiting for your sign to go on or to stop.

"Ok, I get it ... Jason explained me a couple of things. No problem"

"Kevin I ... I'm terribly sorry, forgive me"

“No worries. There’s nothing to forgive. But let me say something. You’re beautiful, you’re wonderful inside and out, he’s a jerk to behave like that, so the right thing you can do for yourself is to start a new life. Give it up, forget him quickly ... you don’t know what you're missing. Maybe we'll meet again soon"

He gives you a wink, ends up getting dressed, kisses you on the lips and goes away, leaving you half naked on your bed.

You don't know whether to be desperate or furious.

You throw your head on the pillow, look at the ceiling and write a message to Jason.

- "I'm sorry Jason, I messed up. Kevin was really nice “

- “FORGET THAT DAMN BOSEMAN! But I love you anyway, try to get some sleep. Good night”

A FEW DAYS LATER …

"No! Absolutely not! I can’t afford TWO months of vacation. It’s not going to happen"

"Of course you can Miss Y/L/N. You have about ... 4 MONTHS of unused vacation time and you start making it 2 NOW. It's an obligation, otherwise I'll fire you. Go, rest. See you in September”

Your lost eyes looks at your boss who is forcing you not going to work for 2 months straight. Actually you’ve worked so much in the last few years that you haven’t stopped for a moment, accumulating days of unused vacations and permits that they don’t intend to pay you in excess.

"Ok ... so regarding my work, documents to prepare, those to be sent, phone calls to the clients ..."

"Miss Y/L/N! Your colleagues will take care of your work, get out of this office before you have to do 3 months straight!” His tone is obviously not despotic, you know he says it for your own good. You've known for a long time.

"Ok ..."

"Y/N ... listen, don’t take it as a punishment. You and I have known each other for a long time, we started working here together. I see that lately you’ve got some problem"

“I always try to keep my personal problems out of work”

"And you do it great. I'm not insinuating your failings at work. But what you think? I can see your lost and sad look some time. As I told you before, we've known each other for a while and I've never seen you like this before"

You nod and smile, you know he's right, maybe these two months of forced holidays can help you.

"Go home, go home to your family, it's so long that you miss. Search for distraction. Or do a beautiful trip. Two months are a lot of time, do you know how many places you could see? Go and relax, relax for me too. Spend all those damn money you earn!” He jokingly tells you.

Even the idea of doing a long trip is not bad, you've always enjoyed traveling and you like to see new places …. Once again the picture of you lying in front of the ocean in a beautiful resort, teases your mind.

You greet your boss, go to Aisha's office and tell her the situation … Obviously she goes crazy

"Two months without you at work ????? How can I do??"

“Don't shout Aisha, we'll talk about it this evening. I couldn’t argue, the boss forced me. And then maybe it's not bad ... maybe I’ll take a trip or I'm going on vacation “

Aisha is very upset, her looks tells everything. "Ok ... we'll talk about it tonight, but woe to you if you go on holiday without me” She says pointing out at you

You meant to do her no personal injury, but ...

You have decided, in 3 days you leave and go on vacation. You have just left the travel agency, where you spent a fortune on a breath-taking itinerary to envy everyone, but now you want to enjoy these two months of vacation until the end.

After several chats with Aisha, your mother, your sister and your father, you convinced yourself to leave alone.

“Dear baby, travel opens the mind and enriches the soul. Do it. You’ve always been afraid to be alone, inner thoughts are scary, but if you learn to be alone and tame your thoughts, there will be nothing that can harm you. You know that dad loves you "

You've never been so close to your father, he was always around for work, he made huge sacrifices to support the whole family, especially after mom lost her job and you and your sister were still little girls. You spent just little time together and as a result your relationship also became a little bit cold. But although you didn’t tell him your secrets, he always knew everything and when you needed him, he was there, always. It was also thanks to his enormous sacrifices that you could afford the best schools and the University.

Even in this moment, you would never have expected his phone call, but these are the words he told you so sweetly on the phone. Surely he also did it secretly from your mother. And very probably you really convinced yourself after his words.

"Did you get everything?" "Yes Aisha, everything I need" "Call me when you land" "Of course I'll call you" "Please, be careful and do not talk to strangers ... no, talk to them, maybe you know someone interesting"

You laugh at that joke typically hers. You can see she’s sad because you leave without her, but you have to do it, you need it.

"Aisha, I keep you updated on the itinerary, which you have by the way. Then …" "I know, I know, I can reach you when I want and spend a few days with you. Maybe I think about it for Bora Bora"

"Last call for gate 32”

"It's mine, thank you for taking me to the airport and for waiting with me, I'll call you as soon as I land" "I love you, have fun" "I love you too, don’t work too much" you say sticking your tongue out "Bitch" she says smiling

You hug your friend and reach the gate, first destination Greece, Santorini.

Before you queue up, you take a selfie pointing to the destination and place the picture on your whatsapp story with caption “My two well-deserved months of vacation start here".

The moment you place your picture, you realize that Chadwick's profile pic has returned to its place.

*****

FEW HOURS LATER SANTORINI - GREECE

"Everything is breathtaking here, you should see the view from my room and ... even my room. Do you know what's in the room?"

"A beautiful naked man?"

"No Aisha ... but .. why????"

"Because that's what I'd like to find!"

"No, I have a pool in the room”

"Are you kidding?!!??"

"No, I swear, do you want to see? I wouldn’t be bitchy sending you a picture"

"Send me those damn pictures, come on!”

"Fuck, I hate you, I hate you so much. It's not true, I love you. I’m so jealous Y/N!!! what do you do now? "

"Now I unpack my bag, take a shower and then go down to eat something and look around"

“You’re fantastic you know that? I could never do it "

"What Aisha?”

"This ... leave alone, try to fix your thoughts, distract yourself …”

"I'm not doing anything special and it wasn’t really planned … I just thought it was a good idea. But it’s not the first time I leave or I go on vacation alone. The first few days are bad, then you always know someone"

"Well, but I would never have left alone"

"Aisha you don’t even go to the toilette alone!"

"it's true! damn”

You both burst out laughing on the phone, then you say goodbye and start thinking a bit about yourself. You unpack your bags … you have underwear, swimwear, shorts, tank top, some cute dress, shoes with heels, flat shoes. Your agenda, your notebook and your professional SLR couldn’t miss ... your make up, cosmetics, sunscreens, and the usual women's thing.

You didn’t tell Aisha about Chadwick's profile picture, you honestly didn’t even think about it during the trip.

You try not to think about it even during dinner; the resort is very nice, since you’re alone you have spared no expense. The restaurant is quite crowded, almost all the tables are full, people of all ages, couples, families, singles, groups ... you feel a little uncomfortable, but you know very well this feeling, it happens often when you travel alone even for work, then this feeling disappears after the first day. You just need some time to settle in.

You take a walk outside, where there’s a large illuminated pool and a little further on there’s the small road that goes down and leads to the beach through the village.

Air is different, it smells new and smells of freedom. It smells good, clean, serenity and tranquility. Peace. The noises, the sounds, the lights, the sunset, the sea, the sound of a different language spoken by the people who walk beside you, the light music you can hear coming from the center of the town.

"I hope it was a great idea, because right now I just feel so lonely" you think to yourself because watching the sunset now dripping on the sea makes your eyes fill with tears.

You check again your phone, reopening whatsapp because your thoughts go to him once again, you can’t do without it. His profile picture is still there, not gone. You don’t understand.

You take a picture of the amazing sight in front of you and add it to your story, writing “Wherever you are, goodnight”

THAT NIGHT - 3.35 A.M

- "I'm an idiot, you'll be hating me and you're absolutely right. But I had no idea SHE had blocked you everywhere. I was so pissed off with you until yesterday because I thought you had disappeared another time. I’ll have sent you dozens of messages I think never arrived, the unanswered calls even, because you were blocked on my phone. I apologize, I ruined everything this time, I lost you again and it’s my fault now… Always yours - Chad”

TO BE CONTINUED ...

I HOPE THE TAGS WORK!!! LET ME KNOW PLEASE! Reblog if you like it ❤❤❤

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firelight-tales-of-exandria · 6 years

Text

Firelight Tales of Exandria, Ch.15 - “Nemo dat Quod non Habet”

Thank you all for coming, so let’s tell some stories...

“When we last left the party...they were having a GREAT time: Dren had bore his soul, and to salve that wound had offered up some TranquiliTea that was given to him by Aeden. A couple of the party imbibed, and had quite a mellow ride, and the other half of the group had embarked on an introspective journey. Having sorted some things out, and being given a helpful nudge by Zeal on how to salvage their current situation, the party returned to the Westruun Garrison barracks, and were confined to quarters; not arrested, but under careful guard, due to there being a recent murder nearby.

“The party has spent most of the day within their assigned room, and have been assigned a ‘personal investigator’ to look into the activities of the group and its possible involvement in the murder."

Warrant Officer Regnault du Gaultier makes himself comfortable in the barracks room with the party, setting up his Ghostwriter quill and notes, and Shadow wastes no time stalking and batting at the self-writing instrument.

Leaf contentedly meanders about the parade grounds, working their way through three shifts of escorts.

Cezika bemoans running out of wine, as Regnault peppers the group with questions, unintentionally amusing/annoying the party with his strange accent.

Shadow: “We did not know anything about this ‘mehr-dehr’.”

Regnault attempts to reassure the party that he is working in the best interests of the party, presenting a scroll bearing the signatures and seals of the Westruun Shields Judge Advocate General and Margrave Brandon Zimmerset naming him the party’s advocate. This does not fill Ladryssa with much confidence, as advocates in the Feywild must share the punishments of their clients.

Regnault’s attempts at being cordial with the party are met will cool skepticism, but he proceeds to interview the party nonetheless. The party plays a bit dumb regarding the discrepancies in their testimony before the inquiry board.

Cezika: “It would be better if you spoke plain?”

Regnault: “I am speaking plain.”

Cezika: “No, even more plain. You are speaking plain in the way a lawyer speaks plain, you need to speak plain as if...I don’t know. Be an actual person.”

Shadow: “Are lawyers not people?”

Regnault: “Very well, I will make zis as plain as I can: you have stepped in merde.”

Regnault informs the party that lying to the inquiry board, regardless of their motivations or degree of guilt, is a serious crime. Whether or not the purpose of their deception is related to the murder, it makes the party suspects. He attempts to explain the nature of the “Chair of Truth” the tribunal employs, when he notices Leaf is gone. Regnault orders the guards to bring the firbolg back in, much to their impotent despair.

Leaf: “Oh, are you the strange man with the strange accent [the guard told me about]?”

Regnault: “Leaf, I presume? Would you be so kind as to come inside?”

Leaf: “If I must.”

Regnault: “YES, you must.”

Leaf: “......okay” *squeezing past Regnault into the room* “Excuse me...”

Settling back in, Regnault smooths out his uniform, at which Shadow casts Prestidigitation to clean him. Regnault, instantly nettled, counterspells the tabaxi’s cantrip.

The party tries to explain that they were covering for Song and his past. As much as he appreciates the group’s efforts and noble intent, it does nothing to diffuse the suspicions of the inquiry board.

Cezika suggests that if Song can be convinced to turn himself in an submit to the inquiry board’s scrutiny, it could clear the party of any suspicion of the murder. Regnault uses Minor Image to illustrate the timeline of events (complete with chibi representations of the party), hoping to find some way to impart the gravity of Song’s absence during the presumed time of the murder.

The party tries once more to convey that Song was incapable of committing the crime, but Regnault says he isn’t the one the party must convince.

When Shadow suggests the identity of the murder victim could help their case, Regnault says that information is classified. Shadow then bemoans the obstinacy of the city authorities when it comes to withholding information that could help people.

Regnault: “To answer your second point: it is because those who have unsavory motives can to just as much with that information for the wrong reasons, as someone with the right motives can wield it for good.”

Shadow: “And you think we have unsavory...whatever?”

Regnault: “It is not my job to think, it is my job to defend you. But the more I know, the better I can do my job.”

Shadow: “How can you defend us if you job is not to think?”

Regnault: *grabbing his quill and pad* “Mon chat, I don’t expect you to like me. I don’t expect you to agree with me. Frankly, I don’t expect you to even cooperate with me. They never want to. But I take pride in my work--”

Shadow insists that everything they did was to help Song, but that it is Regnault’s duty to help Song. Regnault retorts that Song is the only one that can clear his name. Before he leaves, fuming and frustrated, he tells the party that the murdered halfling was the one who brought Buddy in and was the only one who could have testified as to why a simple gnoll trapper would be suspected of unleashing a magical corruption on the forest.

Shadow admits the rest of the party was right about not trusting the motivations of the cityfolk. Ladryssa voices similar frustration about the arcane marks that track them.

Leaf wonders how they are supposed to contact Song when they are not allowed to leave. Ladryssa suggests sending the pseudodragon and Shadow offers to sneak out, but they all agree those would be dangerous.

Shadow vents about how Regnault was quick to offense when no slight was intended.

Ladryssa: “I do not like him. He speaks in tongues that I do not trust.”

Shadow: “He is quick to offense when none was intended.”

Leaf: “He says funny words.”

Shadow: “I say funny words.”

Ladryssa: “Shadow speaks like an avalanche: to the point and fast. He speaks like a river, that is too slow and too muddy to be of any use.”

Shadow: “That is a fair comparison.”

Ladryssa: “I do not like people who speak like rivers.”

The party tries to wrap their heads around why the tribunal would suspect Song of murdering Buddy’s captor, but none of the scenarios they come up with satisfy them. Shadow cannot understand why everyone is so suspicious when the truth seems so plain.

Shadow asks the guards where Regnault went and asks to speak with him, and says they wish to apologize (to which the guard laughs). Shadow then asks for some time outside, which they use to run laps, alarming the guards.

The next day, Cezika is summoned to the Chamber of Judgement, but before she enters she sees Regnault approach with Song in tow. Cezika asks for tips, and Regnault tells her they can tell if the chair is affecting her with its Zone of Truth. Song is not happy about being subjected to such a sensation.

Regnault: “Think of it zis way, mon ami: it’s like being hugged by justice.”

Cezika is questioned by the inquisitorial board, as everyone else before her. Upon being dismissed and escorted out of the Manor, she sees Song being manacled and lead into the Chamber with Regnault at his side. Cezika kisses him on the forehead before Song disappears into the Chamber.

The party is grouped in their room in the barracks, when Regnault brings Song to join them. The party’s advocate says he work still isn’t done and he will continue to push for the party’s case. He also tells Leaf that the Green Men are being released tomorrow; however, they are being banished from the Bramblewood surrounding Westruun. Leaf wishes to say goodbye to them, so Regnault says he will try to make it happen, and gets a flower from Leaf as thanks.

Alone now, the party plies the bard for information on his interrogation, but Song seems deeply disturbed by what was said, or rather what couldn’t be said.

Song: “I tried giving them my real name. I tried coping to everything and somehow--”

Cezika: “It works that you cannot lie.”

Song: “I wasn’t lying.”

Cezika: “No, but you weren’t telling the truth.”

Song: “I thought I was. I told them my name, I--”

Cezika: “That isn’t your name! Song. That isn’t your name anymore. Your name is Song.”

Song: “But then I threw all of that away for nothing; I put all of you in danger for nothing. Maybe they think I’m dead, maybe, they probably just think I’m dead. ‘Cause otherwise what it means, is that, one, I’ve just been paranoid and crazy for ten years, or that they just never cared about any of it.”

Ladryssa: “You were acting with what you thought was right, given the information you had at the time.”

Song: “That doesn’t make it better. That doesn’t give me ten years of my life back. And ‘Song’ is one of seven different names. I don’t even have my own name anymore. Not according to that thing. I’m not anyone.”

Shadow: “You are our friend. You are indispensable. We would not have gone through all of this for no one.”

Song: “But there was no point! Can you not see that? If no one is after me-- if all of that was some ego trip on my end, that maybe I just wanted them to be, maybe I wanted them to give a damn for two seconds-- then I put all of you in danger for nothing and I’ve been doing all of this for nothing. And I lost ten years of my life for nothing! And I haven’t seen my mom for ten years for nothing!

Shadow: “We can fix that.”

Song: “You can’t give me those years back! You can’t give me the life that I had back!”

Leaf: “You have the future. You have the years ahead of you now. That is something.”

Song: “And now I live it as ‘Song’... this asshole... this made-up thing...”

Shadow: “You can be whoever you want to be; whatever name you want to be.”

Song: “I want to be Kelidan again!”

Shadow: “Then do so.”

Song: “According to the cuffs I can’t. Apparently that’s not true anymore.”

Leaf: “It will be if you say it is.”

Song: “I don’t know what I want. Everything I’ve known for ten years is wrong.”

Song asks to be left alone. Shadow admits to having lost his clan a long time ago, and never thought he would have one again, but is proud to have been adopted by a new clan and is proud to have Song as a part of that clan.

A pall hangs over the party, until a frantic knock is heard at the door. Brother Maynard enters the room, bursting with excitement, explaining that Zeal and Dren are meeting with the Margrave on the party’s behalf.

Brother Maynard gives back Shadow’s sample of Alma’s corrupting brew, and eagerly passes on the fruits of his research. The “corruption” is an alchemical and magical malady, transmitted through bodily fluids, that inflicts terrible physical sickness, but also dulls the victim’s mind and “refines” the energies of their soul.

Ladryssa posits that the function of the malady’s effects is the result of a coven of various hags mixing their powers together into a singular form. Ladryssa tries to remember more about Alma’s coven, but the only thing that flashes through her mind is a consuming darkness and the name “Granny.”

What Brother Maynard can’t quite figure out is why the malady dulls the victim’s mind, which doesn’t seem to do anything useful for a would-be conqueror and is unnecessary if one just wanted to destroy a population.

Shadow takes the sample back, but Maynard is just glad to have something useful to do rather than the mundane chores of the temple. He confides that he wants to learn how to write and play music, which temporarily breaks Song out of his funk to give the cleric a crash course in songwriting (which may or may not have been a mistake) and sending him on his way with some basic chords written on some barred bard paper.

Leaf continues to innocently torment the guards by being given a time limit on their outside time (and then waiting a minute before wanting back out for another hour again).

Regnault returns in the evening to tell the party the bad news of Buddy being sent to the court martial, and the good news of being awarded the bounty. However, the Margrave has requested a private meeting with the party before compensating them tomorrow.

As he leaves, Regnault talks about working on Buddy’s appeal and surreptitiously traces a symbol on the table as he leaves, which Song recognizes as the insignia of the Clasp before it disappears. The party debates on what possible connection the crime syndicate could have with an exiled Dustpaw gnoll hunter, the murder of his captor, Gortman stoking resentment against the Margrave and his martial law, and a corrupting darkness encroaching from the wilds surrounding the city.

As the party debates the myriad of possible motives and endgames, Zeal knocks at the door, asking to speak privately with Cezika and Song. The trio stay out on the parade grounds for about two hours before returning. Cezika and Song are awkwardly quiet, but the bard suggests an unusual course of action: he’s going to take a nap!

#firelight tales of exandria #dungeons and dragons #campaign journal #oc: regnault du gaultier #law & order: fantasy crimes division #conspiracies

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inyournightmares97 · 6 years

Text

TOMORROW TODAY SERIES (Masterlist)

Jinyoung Ver. (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (End)

Word Count: 2.4k+

Warnings: Strong language, discussions of prostitution, sex and other sensitive topics. Don’t read if shaky consent to sexual activities triggers you.

Summary: A road trip to your hometown results in a number of unexpected setbacks. Hopes and fears are revealed, while Jinyoung and Jaebum help you understand that life is difficult for everyone, and nobody ever really knows what they’re doing.

The silence in the room was unbelievably loud. You could only hear the thumping of your own heart. The sound of Jaebum’s soft snoring from across the room and Jinyoung’s gentle breathing beside you were inaudible to your thundering ears.

Jinyoung’s question had sent a sharp jolt through you. Why are we keeping secrets from each other? It took you a few seconds to overcome your own guilt and realize that Jinyoung had phrased it that way intentionally. It wasn’t why are you keeping secrets from me. He wanted to know why you were keeping secrets from each other, which meant that you weren’t the only one who had been hiding things.

“I’ll go first,” you whispered.

Jinyoung turned to look at you, wide eyes watching you calmly. You both loved and hated sharing your feelings with Jinyoung. He always gave you an intense look; the sort of look that made it clear that his entire attention was on you, and that he was hanging on to every word you said. But he never reacted. His expressions rarely betrayed whether he was surprised, or upset or angry. There was no way of knowing what Jinyoung thought about what you were saying, until you finished speaking and asked him what he thought.

“That sounds like a good idea,” he told you softly, when you remained silent. “I’m listening.”

“Money become… tight in college,” you admitted quietly, feeling a bit of shame. You never liked talking about not having money. Being poor was something you kept quiet about in Seoul, like some dirty disability. It affected everything; the friends you made, the people you hung out with… it was all determined by the amount of money you had. “I tried talking to my parents about it, but they wouldn’t really understand. They just sent me the bare minimum I needed to get by, but there are so many other things you need in a city like Seoul…”

Jinyoung nodded. He knew your parents. Spend only what’s absolutely necessary. They had lived their entire lives in a conservative village, so the casual spending culture of the urban cities was strange to them.

“I tried getting other jobs,” you whispered almost desperately. For some reason, you felt the need to justify yourself. You had denied Jaebum all explanations, telling him that your life was none of his business… but Jinyoung was different. You needed him to know that you had tried everything possible, needed him to understand that this was the only route available to you. “But none of them lasted. It was all minimum wage, and they took up so much of my time that I was left too exhausted to study and my academics started falling behind. My parents got my exam results last semester and they were mad, they said we sent you to Seoul to study, so why can’t you even do that and told me I had to quit the jobs or I was coming straight back home to help with the farms.”

Jinyoung sighed. He was only too used to hearing the regular threats that your parents made, saying they would drag you back to your hometown if you did something out of line. “So?” he whispered. “Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you call Jaebum-hyung?”

You stared at him. “What could either of you have done?”

Jinyoung blinked. “I don’t know. I would have tried to help-“

You shook your head, tears spilling out of your eyes. That’s what everyone said. Why didn’t you come to me? As if anyone would have done anything. “I didn’t want help or moral support,” you explained firmly. “I wanted money. It’s not like I was going to splurge on luxury clothes or live some kind of high life. I just wanted to be able to go out with my friends without having to constantly eye the bill. I wanted to not have to beg them to go to cheaper places just for me. I wanted to be able to go the club without having to calculate how much tax there is on each drink, is that too selfish?”

Jinyoung bit his lip and stayed silent. He didn’t know how to respond. True, he had been in a tight financial situation since he joined college too, but it was different from yours. Jaebum worked a full-time job and he was always willing to send him money. You didn’t have anyone to support you that way.

You took a deep breath and shuddered. “My friend’s roommate was the one who told me about it. She’d been in the business for about a year already, and she told me about her agency. She said that they handed everything professionally, and they even treated college girls really well because they were looking for intelligent girls in particular and…”

Jinyoung blinked at you. “Agency,” he repeated softly.

You felt sick. “Yeah, it’s… it’s an escort agency.”

“I figured.”

“So I… I went and met them and they seemed really professional about it all,” you whispered. Jinyoung wasn’t saying anything, he was only staring at you. “They assured me of confidentiality, and they said I could clarify what I was okay with and what I wasn’t okay with beforehand, and that they would communicate all of that to the… the client. It all seemed really safe, I took all sorts of precautions, Jinyoung. I swear I didn’t just walk in there like an idiot. I even had pepper spray and a knife on me when I went to meet the first guy.”

Jinyoung was staring at you with large eyes. His lips were pressed together tightly and you could see how worried he looked; the idea that you had been doing these things without his knowledge terrified him. Had you seriously been going to hotel rooms with complete strangers, without any regard for your safety? What the hell was pepper spray going to do in the face of a man who might want to hurt you? He opened and closed his mouth and then took a deep breath to calm himself.

“Okay,” he whispered.

“And the money was really good,” you admitted quietly. “The first guy didn’t even ask me to have…. to have sex with him. He just took me to some party as arm candy and once he got drunk enough, he got wrapped up talking to his business associates and he sent me home in a cab. But I got my cheque through the agency and it just… it seemed like such a small price to pay for so much comfort? I didn’t have to think a hundred times before I bought something. I could go wherever my friends wanted to go. And it only took one evening. I no longer had to work long, painful hours for minimum wage.”

“How did Jaebum-hyung find out?”

You bit your lip. “One of my clients turned out to be a higher-up at Jaebum-oppa’s company. He saw me leaving with him at a social event and figured it out. Apparently the man had a reputation for bringing escorts around everywhere. Jaebum-oppa lost it the next day. He called me and screamed at me, said he was going to go the agency and force them to fire me. It took a long time to calm him down… that’s why things have been so tense between me and him. I’ve been avoiding him for months. He just won’t understand that it’s my life and my body to do whatever I want with.”

Jinyoung looked at you calmly. “You were a virgin.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing this was coming. “Virginity. What is that even? It seems like such a pointless thing to treasure. Does it matter whether you’ve had sex or not? Would anybody ever know unless you told them? I don’t know why this is something so dirty. There are men with primal urges who can’t find anybody to satisfy them and I’m doing it, for a price. Half of these guys aren’t as dangerous and rough as they’re made out to be, Jinyoung. One of my clients was a virgin himself, he was trembling the entire night.”

“These are men that are trying to pay for sex-“

You cut him off. “So? What’s the alternative? Men will do anything to get sex. Aren’t the ones who are willing to pay for it still infinitely better than the scum that try to rape women or sexually harass them without their consent?” you demanded. You ran your hand down your face and sighed, trying to calm down. “I know what’s bothering you, Jinyoung. Prostitution is a horrible thing. Most girls are roped into it at a young age, in terrible conditions and without the slightest idea what they’re being made to do. It’s awful. But I’m not like that. I’m making an informed decision, I’ve taken all the precautions for my safety.”

Something flickered in Jinyoung’s eyes.

“What?” you demanded. “You don’t believe me?”

“I think this is a decision you’re going to regret,” he whispered. Jinyoung took a deep, shaky breath as he sat up. He tried to look you in the eyes. “Do you want to know why I think that?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t… honestly, I don’t like the thought of you meeting strange guys in hotel rooms. You’re putting yourself in an extremely vulnerable position around men that are more powerful than you, and it would take them half a second to hurt you. You know that, right? He could make a sex tape and blackmail you with it, he could drug you, he could kidnap you, he could hurt you because you are the vulnerable one in the situation. Sure, these things could happen to you even if you weren’t in this business but you have to see that the risk is insane,” Jinyoung said firmly.

You nodded silently. “I know, but most of these are rich guys with reputations and sometimes, wives. They have a lot to lose; honestly, my keeping quiet is one of the most important things to them. They’re not likely to blackmail me with sex tapes when they have more to lose.”

“You could get pregnant. You could come down with a disease-“

“I’m taking precautions against those things, I’m not an idiot!”

“But it’s not even any of that,” Jinyoung said firmly. “All those things might or might not happen, but I’m going to tell you what is going to happen. You’re not going to be able to get out of this business.”

You stared at him. “Jinyoung-“

“You said it yourself, didn’t you? This is a shortcut to life. You’re doing this because it’s easier than having to work long hours for minimum wage. Can you go back to the long route once you’ve gotten used to taking the shortcut? Think for a second and tell me whether you really think you’ll be able to work in an office, five days a week for long hours just to get a monthly salary… when you know that you could make the same amount in a single night by letting a guy fuck you? Isn’t that where you’re heading?”

You had no answer to that.

“There’s a reason people keep committing crimes, and it’s not always for the thrill. It’s because once you’ve discovered a shortcut in life, it’s impossible to convince yourself that you still need to ignore it and take the longer and harder route. How long are you going to last in this industry? Another five years? Ten? It’s a sex industry, your value will drop the older you get. Then what? What about when you’re no longer considered attractive by these sleazy men? What will you do then? Your life is going to spiral out of control. You can’t make a decision without thinking about what lies in the future for you.”

You looked up at Jinyoung. His tone was soft, but his words were harsh and you knew that he was being perfectly honest. Jinyoung never sugarcoated things in situations like this. “Nobody can ever know what happens in the future,” you mumbled. “You said it yourself, you don’t know what lies at the end of the path that you’re taking. I could quit the agency once I graduate. I could get a decent job and nobody would ever know how I put myself through college. You don’t know what’s in store for me.”

“There are always things that are beyond your control, sure, but there are also a shit load of things that are in your control. Just because the world is unpredictable doesn’t mean that you can do whatever the hell you want and expect that things might turn out okay. Don’t be that stupid.”

You felt tears brimming in your eyes. “You don’t think I’m responsible enough to handle my own life?”

Jinyoung looked at you quietly. “I never said that. I’m saying that you’re being shortsighted about your decisions. We all have a blind spot when it comes to our own lives. Sometimes we need somebody else to come in and look at it from a neutral perspective, tell us what we couldn’t see from our point of view.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell anyone that you dropped out of college?”

Jinyoung’s eyes widened as he stared at you. Your words had shocked him, and you almost regretted spitting them out in such a harsh manner. It wasn’t his fault that he was being straight with you; you had expected no less from Jinyoung. But his constant attacking of your life choices had made you sensitive, and you suddenly felt the need to point out to him that he wasn’t the most rational decision-maker either. But Jinyoung’s face fell and his voice became quiet.

“How did you…?”

“I figured,” you mumbled. “It’s funny that you can sit here and tell me about taking the hard path when you couldn’t handle it either, Park Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung gave you a small, regretful smile. “I guess I’m a hypocrite, huh?”

You took a deep breath and leaned back against the pillow. Your heartbeat was thudding as you gave him a small smile in return. You felt exposed and part of you was wondering whether you shouldn’t have told Jinyoung everything. Yet there was a sense of relief… at least you weren’t hiding it anymore, at least now all your demons were out in the open. The worst was over for you, and you closed your eyes quietly.

“I think we’re all hypocrites, aren’t we? Tell me what happened.”

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

A/N: This was going to be much longer, but I figured I would separate all the discussions on prostitution into a separate chapter since it might be sensitive to some people and they may want to skip it.

I’m sorry that updates are so slow and taking so long, I’ll try to make them faster. Feel free to send me your thoughts and opinions!

2 more parts to the Jinyoung Ver.!

#got7 #got7 scenarios #jjproject #park jinyoung #jinyoung scenarios #jinyoung angst #jjp #jjproject fanfiction #verse 2 #tomorrowtodayseries #im jaebum #jaebum scenarios #jinyoung imagines #jinyoung drabbles

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ghosthunthq · 6 years

Text

Possession- chapter 3

From @frenchcirce

For @misskiku

Unedited and un-beta-ed, so I apologize in advance for any glaring mistake. Also, I lack sleep. Forgive me.

4 days prior- 6:00 PM

“Why is it not looking like it should?” Mai cried, exasperated.

The mirror she was kneeling in front of was showing a rather disappointing reflection. The obi she had tried to tie by herself wasn’t sitting on her back and hips properly, thus doing a poor job at keeping the kimono in place.

Masako, kneeling beside her in her own perfectly fitted kimono, chuckled wholeheartedly.

“There there, I’ll help you,” she offered placatingly, the corner of her mouth still twitching under Mai’s indignant glare. “Get up,” she ordered.

Mai complied, grumbling.

“How can you wear this every day? Not only it is hard to put on by yourself, but it is kind of uncomfortable!”

“Tying the obi is an art, you know,” Masako remarked, not without pride, while rearranging the silken belt. “If not worn properly it may be bothersome indeed. Thankfully for you I had more than enough time to practice.”

The last part had been added with a hint of bitterness, and Mai could only wonder how much of a choice Masako’s clothing style was.

“Done,” Masako announced after a minute, letting her friend admire her work in the mirror.

“Thank you Masako,” Mai smiled gratefully. “You really saved me there. I had no idea we would need formal clothes.”

“You are welcome. You lend me your clothes during the Yoshimi case, we are now even,” the medium stated, eyeing her friends’ attire critically before giving an approving nod.

The team had been invited by Miss Akiyama in the ryokan’s restaurant for dinner, and considering the high standing of the place, Mai was pretty sure they were expected to come dressed up accordingly. Except her poor, part-timer and still in high-school self didn’t have anything suitable to wear. Thankfully she was almost Masako’s size, and the latter, having packed several of her kimonos, had been kind enough to lend her one of her spare.

Ayako, looking dashing in a deep burgundy dress, entered the room to tell them it was time to go.

“The boys are waiting for us outside, but we can make them wait if you need more time,” she offered.

“There is no need to, we are ready,” Masako replied, and headed toward the shoji door with her usual poise.

Mai flattened her hair, making sure for the last time there were no stray locks, and followed her roomates, praying she would make no faux-pas tonight.

The men were standing outside the building wearing their regular clothes. Of course, Mai thought with annoyed envy, their outfits were classical enough to suit the place. Hers on the other hand… She glanced subrepticely at Naru, clad in his usual dark outfit, and tried to ignore how disappointed she was of not seeing him in his yukata. Though it was probably a blessing he wasn’t wearing it, she wasn’t sure she could handle a whole evening with him dressed like that without having a nosebleed.

“Woah Mai, you look great!” Takigawa whistled when she appeared.

She blushed, half-embarrassed and half-pleased by the compliment, waiting with anticipation Naru’s reaction. She immediately berated herself for doing so. Since when had she become so vain?

Naru turned toward her and she held her breath nonetheless. His eyes widened slightly when he noticed her outfit, but the telltale of his surprise immediately turned into something darker, a confusing mixture of annoyance and guilt. She deflated. This was not what she had expected.

Ayako’s voice behind her was complaining. “And what about us, you ill-mannered monk?” she shouted, an irked eyebrow arched. “There are two other women here, shall I remind you? It is rude to play favorites.”

“Rude?” Takigawa repeated, outraged. “Because fishing for compliments isn’t? ”

“I would ask you to refrain to cause a commotion,” Naru’s cold voice commanded.

That effectively quieted the bickering pair, temporarily at least. Even Mai recoiled, still troubled by the strange reaction he had shown. Then she realized her boss had ordered her to rest earlier in the morning, and that she hadn’t given him a report of whatever dream she could have had. Maybe that was the reason of his displeasure.

She walked toward him in small, careful steps, unused to the way her kimono was entraving her legs.

“Ah, Naru,” she spoke, scratching the back of her head nervously, “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you. I, uh, I tried to sleep like you suggested but I didn’t have any significant dream. Sorry.”

He frowned imperceptibly.

“I didn’t expect you to have one so soon. We haven’t monitored any activity either.”

“Oh.” That was surprising. He wasn’t mad at her then? “Well, it was worth a shot, I guess.”

Hesitation flickered on his features before he opened his mouth.

“Mai–” he started.

“Shibuya-san, Taniyama-san,” the manager of the ryokan greeted, before realizing the two of them had been talking. “Oh,” she gasped, putting a hand on her mouth. “I am really sorry I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“No no, it is okay,” Mai smiled politely to the middle-aged lady. “We were about to head to the restaurant. Thank you for your invitation,” she bowed.

“My pleasure. Your table has been prepared, please let me lead the way.”

Naru nodded and the team followed their host. Thankfully their pacing was slow enough for Mai to walk without tripping.

In the restaurant they were led to a separate area, where a table filled with food was waiting for them. Mai took place on the sitting cushion gingerly, afraid to stain Masako’s kimono.

“The drink will be served soon,” the manager bowed. “We have taken your special diet in consideration,” she addressed Lin and Naru. “Enjoy your meal, with the thanks of the Akiyama family.”

Monk stared at the food with hungry eyes while Ayako glanced at it appraisingly.

“Did I already told you I love this case?” she smirked.

“You did,” Masako confirmed. “I am starting to greatly appreciate it myself,” she admitted.

“As long as whatever is haunting the place doesn’t choose this moment to bother us,” Yasuhara joked. “You haven’t sensed anything yet, am I right?” he asked Masako, seated next to him.

Masako hid her mouth with her sleeve reflexively. “No I haven’t, the spirit may be hiding still,” she defended.

“Of course,” he placated with a sincere smile, “I am just glad you haven’t been importuned. Cases are often hard on you.”

Masako blushed slightly, and Mai made a mental note to tease her for that later.

“I haven’t sensed anything either,” she mused. “But ghosts are shy, the activity will more likely increase in the next days.”

“The later, the better,” Ayako shrugged.

“The shinkan is almost entirely covered, if anything moves an inch or if a breeze passes through the room Lin will know it,” Takigawa exclaimed.

Lin nodded graciously in confirmation, and the manager choose this moment to reappear with tea, beer and a bottle of sake.

“May I ask if you are satisfied with your accommodation?” she addressed Naru while pouring the drinks. “We encourage our guests to enjoy the hot springs in the most traditional way, so to stay true to the atmosphere we did not add any electronic device. The room we prepared for your equipment was the only one with enough power outlets.”

Naru assured her that they were perfectly content and that everything had been done for the best.

“I am relieved to hear it,” the lady smiled. “I scheduled the interview you requested with my mother for tomorrow.”

Mai’s eyes widened. Naru had requested an interview? Wait, without telling her? She had been promoted to investigator, yet Naru didn’t trust her to interview their client. She frowned, feeling betrayed, somehow.

“I would ask you to be extremely tactful, she had been bedridden since my father’s passing away,” Akiyama-san added, sorrow maring her features. “They had spent a lifetime together, parting with him has been quite the shock.”

“Naturally,” Naru offered his best business smile. “Rest assured we will take her grief into consideration.”

The whole table looked at him dubiously. Mai perked up. This meant she should be the one in charge, it was a well-known fact that their boss was terrible at handling people’s emotions.

“Thank you,” the lady bowed.

As soon as she left, Mai leaned toward Naru, who was seated across the table.

“Naru, when are we interviewing Akiyama-san?” she asked eagerly.

He raised an eyebrow.

“We?”

Mai was struck speechless for a second, disappointment washing over her. She felt dejected that Naru didn’t rely upon her. Maybe he was really mad at her after all.

“Well, I am your assistant, so I figured you would need my help. For, uh, taking notes,” she suggested meekly, hating that it sounded like a question.

“Lin will take care of it. Tomorrow I expect you to tour the facilities with miss Hara and miss Matsuzaki.”

Mai nodded wordlessly, her throat tight and her eyes stinging. She wanted to ask for explanations, to complain, to have a shouting fight with Naru if needed. But everyone was having fun, eating and laughing, and she couldn’t bring herself to ruin the mood.

So she stayed quiet and looked forlornly at a food that had lost all of its appeal.

If only she had spoken up, she would think later. But then, she didn’t know how much she would regret it.

#Ghost Hunt #GHW2018 #GHHQ #frenchcirce #misskiku #submission

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agape-l0ve · 3 years

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hello i am back lol

I think the last few times I wrote out a blog was when jj was deployed. tumblr was a really helpful tool for me at that time because it allowed me to be completely vulnerable without having to burden anyone else!

I was looking back at my old posts and it’s so interesting to read where I was back then and to see the progression of how much life changes in such short bursts of time! So here’s just an update for my future self -- warning, it’s not very exciting hahaha

So, since jj returned in dec 2018, it’s honestly been great! We saw 2019 and 2020 as a time to catch up on all the lost time we had in the previous years. No more exercises, training, or trips away, life actually went back to normal - which was weird. I look back and think about how we’ve only been in this lifestyle since 2016, but so much can happen within a span of 4-5 years. I’ve finally graduated from CFCC’s OTA program, which was honestly such a blessing because our class was able to complete our requirements before COVID got really bad. Well, I should say most of our class. As of right now, I think only one more person is finishing up their FW II, which is crazy because these days, I find myself thinking about how I was just finishing up HH and transitioning into peds outpatient in FW II exactly one year ago.

I’ll talk a bit about my FW II experiences.. since they were not the greatest lol.

Home health was really interesting. I was honestly DREADING it because 1, I don’t like spending long amounts of time in the car and 2, I hate being in the car with just one other person - especially someone I don’t feel100% comfortable with. Also, I wasn’t too fond of the idea of going to people’s homes either. I think this placement really stretched me and pushed me out of my comfort zone in every aspect. Looking back now, I genuinely enjoyed the experience for what it was! Would I voluntarily do it again? It depends! (which is a step up from a solid no)

Our area covered the extremely rural areas of our surrounding counties and it definitely served as a huge culture shock. But everyone was so sweet and grateful for any help they could get and I will always remember some of the most awesome patients I got to meet. The negative effects of this rotation mostly came from my supervisor. She was an awful human being, but thankfully, she was at least a good OTR. However, that being said, I saw ZERO treatments! Even when I tried to tell my professor, NO ONE LISTENED OR BELIEVED ME. It was extremely frustrating because I had all of these assignments to do and all of them were about mf interventions. Anyways, my OTR was untimely, rude, unapologetic, and lacked empathy out of her ass. I was so ready to be done with her and thankfully, she didn’t ruin HH as an option for me - just wasted my time with her. If someone could win an award for the amount of countless hours they could talk about themselves, it would be her. 9 hours every day, non-stop, talking about herself and how great she is and her bf. omfg JUST GET ME OUT OF THE CAR

FW II was supposed to be really exciting for me. I was done with HH and moving onto what I cared about the most and what I really felt passionate about. Helping children in clinic! It was honestly my dream. It was a multi-disciplinary site with SLP, PT, and OT. Everyone seemed nice and it just so happens that my OTR at this placement was a former Marine and he and I had a lot in common paper. Boy, was I in for it. He turned out to be an extremely narcissistic man who thought the world of only himself. He shit talked EVERYONE behind their backs, but was extremely fake to their face. Him and the front office administrator would gossip every moment they got, like they were 13 year old bullies. He suffered from several TBIs when he was enlisted, so it’s safe to say that his temperament issues and memory loss were definitely a result of those. But the worst part is, he refused to admit it. He would shit talk the boss, the PR manager, the PTs, the clients, and just about everyone in between. And he brought 100% of his personal life into this, which I get if we’re co-workers, that’s fine. But as your student, I don’t need to know about that kind of crap. On top of that, I was his first FW II student... lol of course I was. So he knew nothing about how to help me, guide me, or teach me. Instead of looking at the informational packed my professor handed to him, he puts that in the closet the entire 9 weeks I’m with him and proceeds to continuously throw me under the bus when it came to doing my assignments and treating patients. Mind you, I didn’t get to treat anyone in HH, so this is now my first real opportunity to start treating patients throughout the entirety of my program. Safe to say, I was nervous. But I pulled through and did my best and I forced myself to become really confident really quickly. I was awesome at it and I was honestly very proud of the practitioner I was striving to be. He did help me from time to time and I’d like to believe there were moments where he was genuine and tried his best to help me. But none of those times outweigh the flustercluck that was that clinic. Anyways, I came out pretty salty about the whole thing, but I didn’t let it ruin my passion for helping children, as that is what I aspire to do in the future. I made strides with kids my OTR wasn’t able to connect with for months. And instead of encouraging me and allowing me to fulfill my duty as a student, he re-books them with another therapist and anyone in healthcare knows how that detrimental that process is to their progression and tells me that he’s just trying to be nice and share his case-load with other people. No, you’re purposefully taking them away from me because you can’t stand the thought of someone being better than you at something. His pride and arrogance will forever taint my experience there and I have no intention of going back - which is a true shame because I absolutely fell in love with the kids and some of the other therapists there. Oh well, good riddance to both my HH OTR and my peds OTR.

Luckily through it all, COVID was just beginning and it only delayed my graduation process a few weeks. I was extremely fortunate to be one of the first few in my class to finish up and start studying for my NNCOT exam!

Studying for my exam was a time and a half. I honestly had -0% confidence in myself to pass this test. I knew it was coming, I knew I had to eventually take it.. but time just snuck up on me so quickly and before I realized, it was my time. I studied for about 3 months, graduating in June and taking my exam in Sept. I took a short break immediately following graduation and then read an entire 3,000 page textbook, took over 300 pages of notes, and took practice tests and listened to podcasts/watched youtube videos. It was a lot of information but it was honestly so rewarding to think about how much knowledge I’ve truly gained from these past few years. Fast forward, Sept 23, 2020 was the day I took my test and it was great! A lot less structured of a process than they make it sound and I was able to complete my exam in about 2 hours and passed a few weeks later! I got my license and everything was great!

For whatever reason, during this time, I felt in my heart that it was time to get another dog. This topic kept coming up un-provoked in EVERY single conversation we had with others and it just felt right. Being home now, I was able to spend every day with Teddy, rather than taking him to daycare. Because of the uncertainties of COVID at the time, I didn’t feel comfortable taking him in, nor did I want to drive if I didn’t have to. Teddy became extremely depressed, always sleeping in the closet or between the toilet and wall, which are places he goes only when he’s hurt or sick. I would try to play with him and take him out, but he had lost all motivation to do anything. It hurt my heart that I couldn’t give him what he wanted or what he needed. So, after a lot of thought and research, Chester came into our lives! Teddy’s breeder had JUST had a litter of puppies (on the same day I took my exam!) and I figured it was a good time to raise another puppy, since I have the time and no outstanding commitments right now. We picked him up in Nov, right before Thanksgiving and jj’s brother was in town to help us. It was a looooong day, 5 hours there and 5 hours back. I think we got home around 2am, but since then, my life has just been on hold while I raise Chester.

Teddy was not happy at first. I could tell he was confused and upset that another dog was here. But over time, they have become much closer and share experiences that has helped him become a better brother. Chester is a lot of work lol but he’s brought so much joy to all of us and I love him so much. He’s currently 5 months, losing all his baby teeth, and getting into everything and Teddy has been enjoying the company (in moderation lol).

In regards to our life, we were really hoping to PCS back home summer of 2020, but it didn’t happen. It was pretty disappointing because we’ve been on the east coast the whole time we’ve been active duty. A lot of our friends moved either back to their hometowns or to the west coast and it felt really unjustified that we were stuck here, but even so, we are making the most of it. We would have had to move through COVID and we wouldn’t have gotten Chester, so those are definitely some benefits of staying put. Since we’re here for a bit, we’ve decided to purchase a house! Our friends down the street are selling theirs and we figured it’d be a good financial idea to start allocating our rent into a cheaper mortgage. It has a double yard and it’s a bit newer than our current rental. So we are hoping to move around June! I’m excited, it’s kind of a fresh new start without having to be too big of a move for now.

Mentally, I’ve been fluctuating. I have a lot of self-inflicted guilt from not working at the moment. And yes, I agreed to get Chester and it’s a full-time job to watch him and not have to crate him all day. I want him to enjoy his puppyhood and I want to be here with him as well, so I do cherish these moments that I can have with both him and Teddy. However, I just feel like it’s the right thing to do or it’s what I’m supposed to do. I graduate and then I work! But being here, it’s just not the path for me. Besides, I keep reminding myself that there are no job openings in my immediate area right now anyways. So for now, I’m just spending my days with the pups and working on keeping the house clean, which does bring me a lot of joy. I need to learn to enjoy life and not worry about what I’m not doing. To help myself, I signed up for transcription services again, so hopefully that’ll bring in some money and take up some time. I think it’s the need to feel productive and I haven’t had that in a while. But with COVID, I’m sure that’s a very popular feeling.

I think that’s about it for now, that’s what’s been going with me the past few years! I can’t wait to read this in 2 years and hopefully, I won’t be in the same place lol

byee

#sarah's ramblings

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pandemicstress · 3 years

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What Seeds are You Planting?

Mary loves trucks and spent 20 years working for a multi-national vehicle manufacturer. In April 2020, she left the organization to start her own business. She has always had a dream to have a coffee shop and a deli. She has tried a few other entrepreneurial ventures. She had a store with repurposed furniture and a music theatre. She also had agencies selling construction supplies. However, none of these seemed to feel right with her.

A few days before lockdown Mary decided to take the plunge and she started a mobile deli. She lives on a small holding in South Africa’s busiest province and she has access to local farmers and suppliers. She developed a list of products to sell and she simply jumped in. It was a steep learning curve but the business took off within the first month.

She identified her target customer to be high income earners with sophisticated tastes. She created a list of products that were expensive and high quality. This worked very well and her customers were extremely happy with her offerings. In the early lockdown, citizens could only leave the house for food or medication. The emptiness of the streets was shocking for her when she was delivering to her customers. It felt surreal with no cars on the streets.

Her turnover was higher than she ever imagined it would be. She was able to pay off her car and she was also able to pay her rent in full which was something she has struggled with in the past. She typically pays when she can but now is able to pay her rent regularly. Mary’s passion for her work was obvious when talking to her and it’s clear that she loves serving her clients and supporting her suppliers.

Mary has faced many challenges in her life. She was married in the past and she never felt good enough. Her husband treated as if she was an inferior person and over time, she started believing it. In her corporate days, she received free trips as recognition for her hard work, but it was difficult to enjoy the trips as her husband put her through emotional hell with the guilt of going away.

She remembers a day when he was speaking to her in a way that was emotionally abusive. She walked outside and it felt like she was slapped with the awareness that she’s worth more than that. In that moment, she knew that she had to get away from him. It wasn’t easy for her to do this because he is a dangerous man. He made threats on her life and on the lives of their children. She made plans to escape from him while she waited for the perfect opportunity. She packed bags of clothes and hid them in the car and hid spare keys in various locations that she could access on a moment’s notice. She suffered so much stress that she lost 20kg when she moved out. Without his financial contribution, life has been tough but it was well worth the effort of getting him out of her life.

She realized that she has been putting off her dreams and had this ‘one day’ thinking which isn’t very action oriented. Mary told me that the subconscious never sleeps. When our energy reflects that we don’t deserve success and money and we live in a scarcity mindset, it’s impossible to shine.

Mary is an optimist and she has a special gift of thinking outside of the box. She is a natural entrepreneur and gaining the experience in a large organization set her up for great learning. Mary said, “It’s a matter of seeing the gap.”

In the spirit off entrepreneurial experimentation, she tried something else in her deli business. She created a budget-friendly list with the thinking that people might have lost income during the pandemic. This strategy backfired. She used a different supplier with cheaper produce and her customers did not respond well. This showed her that her original niche market was correct and she resumed her original strategy to serve her ideal customer. She realized that her market is the high-income earners. This was not a mistake but rather an opportunity to gain greater insight into who she is serving and what they want. Customer feedback is critical and Mary is excellent at listening to her customers and responding to their needs.

Mary was raised in a way that receiving was not encouraged. She has realized that it is a process to learn to receive. In her book, Rising Strong, Brené Brown writes that there is a certain power and control in giving and that it takes courage and vulnerability to receive. She writes, “When you judge yourself for needing help, you judge those you are helping. When you attach value to giving help, you attach value to needing help.” I can relate to Mary’s experiences as I have also struggled to receive. I’m trying to teach my children that it is an act of kindness to receive from others since it feels wonderful to give and we would not want to take that experience away from those who want to help us.

Mary’s daughter is a strong ice hockey player and was invited to Bulgaria a few years ago. With Mary’s income and being a single mother, there was no possibility of affording the airfare and accommodation. It broke her heart because she wanted her daughter to have this experience. She decided to overcome her past difficulties in receiving by setting up an online campaign where people could donate. She received money from so many kind people, one person donating R10 000! If she’d know who they were, she would have talked them out of it. But she does acknowledge that it feels bad when we are not able to give.

She has done an incredible amount of personal growth. She places sticky notes everywhere in her house containing affirmations. She is also intentional about her thinking. The psychologists call this ‘metacognition’ – the ability to listen to your own thoughts. I always tell my clients and readers that the starting point for any form of growth is awareness. Once we get into the habit of hearing what we think, we can start to shift thoughts and beliefs that are not so healthy. For example, if you realize that you are really unkind to yourself, you can develop the skills of self-compassion to reduce stress or if you realize that you are procrastinating or avoiding something, you can start to understand why and to address any issues within yourself that hamper your performance.

Mary is proud of her high standards and her drive and ambition. She has seen people around her struggling to show the same level of commitment towards their goals. She has not always been able to appreciate her strengths but she is on a journey towards self-love.

She told me about an author Mike Brescia who inspired her. He was homeless and an alcoholic and he went to seek shelter in a bookstore. He read book on self-improvement and he made classical music containing affirmations. He repeated to himself many times that he was the best salesman in the world. The bookstore asked him to sell books and he became an outstanding salesman. This book was the catalyst she needed to shift her thinking patterns and to use affirmations to move her life forward.

She loved Tim Ferriss’ book, The 4-Hour Work Week. He writes about having a morning ritual which she employed and adapted to fit her own life and routines. She journals almost every day and in this way, she releases things that are troubling her so that they don’t get in the way of what she plans to achieve. There is a lot of research supporting the positive effects on mood and happiness through journaling.

One of the most influential practices in Mary’s life is a regular gratitude practice. When she feels grateful for something, she expresses it out loud in the moment to acknowledge her blessings. She identifies three things each day that she is grateful for and three things that will make each day great. Each night at bedtime she says a thank you prayer for anything good that happened in the day.

It’s clear that Mary has made a conscious effort to be happy and to focus on the good things in life, all at a time that many people found enormously stressful. Operating this way is not only for natural optimists. In fact, Martin Seligman, one of the key founders of the positive psychology movement, wrote the book Learned Optimism to train his pessimistic nature to look for the positive. Mary says that it’s the law of nature that when we plant a seed, something comes up. So, what we are planting had better be good.

I asked Mary about how the lockdown and pandemic have affected her life. She had to make some big decisions that were not easy. Mary did not have Wi-Fi at her house so she sent her daughter to stay with a friend for the lockdown period. This allowed Mary to work very hard and for her daughter to have some company and some fun. It also reduced Mary’s costs for a period. She missed her terribly, however and was incredibly happy to have her back home again.

Mary’s sleep has improved since leaving her corporate job. There was so much red tape that she found it very frustrating and the stress would show up as a knot in her stomach. This insight was part of how she realized that the environment and the company were not right for her. This level of self-awareness is immensely helpful. How often do we feel symptoms and just brush them off or assume that everyone is super stressed? Before I burnt out, I completely ignored the physical warning signs my body was showing me. I’m so pleased to see that people like Mary are paying attention to the stress in their bodies and taking action towards a better life.

Mary is a natural giver. She dropped frozen meals at her father and another couple who needed help during the lockdown period. She was also saddened by the families that took advantage of her. She gave some needy people food but they traded it for cigarettes when they were banned, despite having children who did not receive regular meals. She also found out that some families were getting food from three or four sources, while others had nothing. She tried hard not to judge these people because she simply didn’t know their full story and what was happening for them internally.

Mary is no stranger to stress. She was a victim of an armed robbery which was very traumatic. She lives on a piece of land that is under constant threat. Before she started her business, she could not afford the costs of private security but thanks to her deli, she was able to install a security system with a monthly cost that is manageable. She sleeps better knowing that someone will come to her assistance if an intruder breaches the perimeter. She is also sleeping better with a proper meal in her stomach each night now that she can afford to eat better.

I’m always interested in how people manage their stress. Mary is very clear that positive stress drives her. Friday is delivery day and she thrives on the pressure to ensure all of her customers have their orders in time for the weekend. She is also aware of negative stress and that it’s healthy to acknowledge what she’s feeling. She doesn’t avoid or suppress the feelings. Instead, she identifies what emotion she’s experiencing and tries to understand the source of it. This approach takes courage as strong emotions are often very uncomfortable but Mary knows that she must sit through it to get to the other side. She says, “It’s not nice, but it’s worth it.” I was impressed by Mary’s courage to face up to difficulty in this way. It’s clear that she has suffered deeply in life but she is so strong and positive.

Mary also uses deep breathing to move through stressful situations. When faced with something challenging, she consciously takes three deep breaths to give her the time to respond well. This strategy is well supported by science. Deep breathing activates the parasympathetic nervous system, inducing calm and allowing her brain to make good choices. The prefrontal cortex is the part of the brain responsible for decision-making and willpower. Deep breathing allows us the opportunity to think carefully before taking action that we will later regret.

One of my favorite questions in the interviews during lockdown was “What has become clearer to you as a result of this pandemic?” Mary answered without hesitation. She is exactly where she needs to be. She has freed herself from that ‘one day’ thinking and is living the life she has always dreamed of.

Many people are skeptical and critical of personal development and affirmations. As an author in this genre, I am subject to the snobbery of other authors and people who don’t think that personal growth is important. But it is very clear to me that our thoughts and beliefs are the starting point of everything. What we think and believe affects our behaviour and how we behave affects our outcomes. Many people have difficulty believing in themselves and I am certain that as soon as Mary began believing in herself, life changed for her.

Mary’s parting words to me were about how much she loves what she’s doing and how she can’t wait to wake up and get to work. She thrived through a period that most people found intensely stressful. She remarked how some people focus on what the government has done wrong and although she was concerned about the economic impact of the lockdown, she acknowledges that limitation is often the seed of invention. Mary said, “We all have talents and gifts and there is space for us all to achieve Situations like these force us to use our gifts.”

#personalgrowth #entrepreneur #stress #pandemic

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mspriss-2u · 7 years

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Before the Fame

*Finally, I have reached the end of this story. I apologize for this taking so long, but some serious writer’s block. Thank you to those who stuck through this with me. I will be getting back to my J.J. Watt roots and maybe some Game of Thrones couples in the future. *

Chapter 11

Luke had to admit he was a nervous as ever. He knew he was putting everything he had on the field and the sportscasters were projecting him to go in either the first or second round. He knew it wasn’t smart to listen to the gossip, but he had to admit it was exciting. Though football life was going well, he was having issues with extreme guilt. It wasn’t long after his talk with Fiona he had increased his neglect of Janelle. He made his main priority football, until the point where their weekly get together was now once a month. His girlfriend was patient with him so he could do his studies and focus on looking good for the scouts. However, it wasn’t this that was his reason for dying with guilt….he had decided to lie to get what he wanted. A month after his last meeting Fiona he told her him and Janelle had decided to take a break, knowing Janelle hadn’t even a clue he was contemplating ending their relationship. Fiona didn’t ask many questions beyond that. Luke was now being her plus one to important events, spending time at her local penthouse when he was not busy doing his own thing. He knew it was wrong, but he felt himself rekindled with the excitement and connection he felt he was losing with Janelle. It wasn’t fair to her. He knew he would need to say something, but ironically he loved her too much to see her heart break.

XXX

It was the month before the draft.

Janelle kept looking at the computer screen. She had tried to forget it, but she just couldn’t help but be affected by the comments. It had been like this maybe since December, but now that they were only one month from the draft it was ridiculous. It was Facebook, Instagram, Tumblr, Twitter, and whatever other platform there was ripping her apart. She didn’t anticipate being such a vital part of the media surrounding Luke, especially since he wasn’t officially a NFL player. She knew to expect some local hate from other girls at the school, but to find people from all over the country had an opinion on her from her looks, to her major, to her compatibility with Luke was getting the best of her.

She hadn’t really said much to her boyfriend as he had been busier than ever. She knew this month was probably causing him some serious stress and she was being supportive and understanding as she could, but frustration always rang its ugly head.

As she scrolled through some of the comments, she noticed a picture that made her heart stop.

“NFL prospect with his new beauty at the Player’s Gala.”-read the caption

It was her boyfriend, not with her, but with the woman who was supposed to be working with him. It wouldn’t have been an issue if the picture had not caught him kissing her forehead and her smiling into his neck as they sat next to each other.

Janelle sighed in disbelief. This picture was from three weeks ago.

Her mind was blank as she tried to come up with a rational explanation for this. The decrease in visits, the overly lovey way he would be with her as if guilty. It made sense now. His actions were all driven by the fact he wanted the best of both worlds without giving up anything. Janelle felt the tears on her face, but it didn’t feel nearly as potent as the rage boiling in her. She knew (since there was an actual poster for it) that Luke was at a Banquet for his team honoring those who would be going to the draft, so she wouldn’t be able to get to him. Janelle knew she needed this time to try to calm herself before she went crazy and did something to embarrass herself confronting Luke.

XXX

Luke left the banquet feeling like he was walking on air. It was one thing to get praise from coaches, but to have the guys he played with share their thoughts on working with him was always an awesome feeling. They were the ones that mattered. It was late, but Luke felt in the mood to share some of this ar with Janelle. He had been putting in more effort lately to see her more. It was a few weeks ago, but he had decided to end things with Fiona after four months of being in a fling, or whatever it was. It was three weeks ago at the Player’s Gala when shit hit the fan.

Flashback

Him and Fiona had been all curled up next to each other at their assigned table talking with other people when another prospective player, he noticed from television, had come up to them looking quite angry.

“Hey Fiona! What the fuck’s going on here?” the guy said clearly ready to brawl.

“Matt, please calm down. Nothing is going on. I’m just being friendly,” she said trying to placate him as she placed a gently hand on his arm to pull him away from the table to a more private area. Luke was clearly embarrassed, but concerned as well, because the Matt dude looked like he was ready to punch her.

“That don’t look like friendship Fiona. That looks like a fuck buddy!” Matt said rather loudly.

As embarrassed as Luke was, the longer he listened he started feeling dread and as if he had been duped.

“Matt, Luke is just a really good friend. Sometimes we get carried away with how affectionate we can be,” she said, forgetting Luke was in earshot and could feel himself shattering as she said this.

Matt looked over at Luke as she said this. Luke’s face was red and he knew his eyes were red rimmed.

“No worries man, you can have her. I was just getting ready to leave anyway,” Luke said turning around to make his exit.

Before he could turn, he felt a hand turn him back around and then the world went dizzy. He could hear some commotion faintly in the background, but he was out cold before he could make any sense of it.

Luke found out the next day his friend, Rex had been the one to come get him and take him home. Rex shared that Matt had been one of the clients his agent had signed and Fiona had obviously been dating him too. Wiith some serious coaxing and his actual agent trying to save him as a client, Luke was able to avoid a big media fallout. Fiona had lost her job after that, as her boss saw her as a liability to the company. Luke knew he did not have a right to feel betrayed, because he had done the exact same thing to Janelle. ‘The grass ain’t always greener’ kept rumbling through his mind as he thought back on that incident a few weeks back.

Luke cranked up his car and decided to make a trip to see the one who had been true through this whole thing.

XXX

Frieda was in complete friend mode when she had found Janelle crying her eyes out after getting her text. She had grown quite found of Janelle and to hear that Luke had been a slime ball really made her upset; she really thought he was above it, but then again he was about to be famous in his early twenties. Maybe it was better it happened now than later. As Frieda was soothing Janelle, she heard the knock on the door. When she saw Luke through the peephole, she looked to Janelle to see if she wanted to invite him in. Janelle shook her head no. She wasn’t ready for this now. She was still trying to wrap her head around it all.

“What do you want Luke” Frieda said with a stone face as soon as she cracked the door open.

Luke was taken aback by her tone.

“Umm, I’m here for Janelle. I just wanted to come by and share how the night went,” he said with a tentative smile.

“Well, glad you’ve been getting so lucky, but Janelle doesn’t feel in the mood to talk, especially not to you, so goodbye,” she said slamming the door, but Luke was too quick.

“What the hell Frieda! What’s going on? “ he asked as he had his foot in the door and his forearm keeping her from closing it.

“Janelle! Baby, what’s going on?!” he yelled passed Frieda trying to get his girlfriend’s attention.

Frieda kept trying to push him out, but she was no match for him. Luke pushed past her and saw Janelle puffy faced, tear streaked and looking at him with utter betrayal in her eyes.

‘Fuck, she knows,’ was the thought running through his head.

“Baby, please talk to me. What’s going on?” he pleaded going over to her bending on his knees to be eye level with her.

“Just go Luke, you’ve had your fun. I saw you and your new “beauty” all over social media. Just go and find someone else to play with,” she said in a defeated and tired tone.

Luke shook his head no. “No, I can make this right. I’m an ass. I didn’t know what I had, but all of that is over,” he said weakly.

“It shouldn’t have happened in the first place you ass!” yelled Frieda.

“Frieda, I appreciate it, but could you just give us a minute,” a tired Janelle said.

Frieda reluctantly stepped out while they talked.

“Please listen I’m sorry. I love you Janelle. I didn’t mean to do this. I have no excuse for why I did it, but I know now how flawed I was in my thinking. I’m so sorry.”

Janelle just looked at him with pain in her eyes.

“Well we all make mistakes don’t we,” she said nonchalantly.

She got up and walked to the door and opened it.

“ I hope you do well in the draft. I know it is what you have always truly wanted,” she said in a montone voice.

Luke couldn’t believe it. No argument, no pleading just a goodbye.

He got up and walked to the door in defeat. This was it and if she could muster up enough dignity to deal with everything so would he.

Epilogue

“And the Carolina Panthers’ selection for the 9th selection overall in the 2012 NFL Draft …Boston College’s Luke Kuechly!”

As he walked up to the commissioner to receive his shirt, he felt like all the noise in the background had faded. This was his moment. He finally made it. His work had paid off. Luke’s face hurt from smiling so much and doing interviews throughout the rest of the night, but he would never forget the feeling of hearing his name especially in the first round.

It was two weeks after the Draft now and Luke was returning back to Boston after doing conferences in Charlotte and meeting his new team. He knew he would be expected to return for rookie camps in a few more weeks, so he wanted to take time to finish moving his things to his new place in Charlotte and saying goodbye to good friends.

It was his walk across campus, he noticed a familiar figure in the Olive Oil Café. He hadn’t seen or talked to Janelle since the night she told him a gracious goodbye and he walked out of her life. He still felt an ache within from the way things ended with them. However, he had to own it and learn from it. Luke knew at this point in life he needed to focus on adjusting and learning how to deal with this monster called fame. He had to sift fakeness, schemers and plots to get ahead in order to truly give another shot at having a relationship with anyone. Luke gave a wistful smile as he saw Janelle, with an actual smile laughing with Frieda and Callie. He was glad she was finding her happiness and who she was. He continued walking on to go say goodbye to his coach. Maybe in another chapter of life he would be able to face her and show himself to be a better man than he had been.

THE END

#luke kuechly #lukekuechly #lukekuechly59 #lukekuechlyfanfic #ilovelukekuechly #lukekuechlyfan #lukekuechlylover

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anna-2807 · 5 years

Link

Want to know the correlation?

I hate cancer because it kills by ravaging the body and leaves families without dads, mothers and siblings.

It is difficult to treat, and it sometimes goes undetected until it is too late.

Shame is emotional cancer, and I hate it just as much, if not more than cancer.

I hate it because it ravages the soul and steals lives as quickly or as slowly as cancer.

I hate shame more because no one wants to talk about it, so it goes undetected for months, or years, or forever.

It robs lives when it whispers lies into our minds that we are defective and broken. And because of that, we are somehow less-than.

But unlike cancer, shame is…well…shameful.

Unlike cancer patients, no one gathers around the infected and brings food and comfort. If everyone knew that shame can be just as deadly, perhaps we would all be more watchful and compassionate.

But shame can ravage more than a person’s soul.

Shame will sabotage relationships–especially romantic relationships

Shame causes us to fight our way out of responsibility.

We have to deflect and deny accountability because it hurts too bad.

We can’t just admit when we have done wrong, because our shame takes us to dark places we are afraid we will never escape.

So we minimize our bad behavior.

Shame also filters everything that comes at us through a lens of contempt.

Our spouse may want to simply point out an area where we need to improve, but instead, we feel attacked.

We can’t hold ourselves in warm regard, so we force others to mirror back to us that we are good enough. If they fail to do that, we get angry or lose interest in them.

The best I way I know to illustrate shame is with client’s stories.

(Names and specific details are changed to protect privacy.)

Brian isolates himself because he feels undeserving of love

Jennifer is married to Brian. They have two kids, and everyone loves each other in this family. But Brian is moody and this causes problems. He is often irritable with the kids and snaps at them for no good reason. He spends a lot of time in the bedroom alone watching TV when the family is together. He says he is just an introvert, and that there is nothing wrong, but his family misses him and wants to spend time with everyone together.

When they can coax Brian out of his shell, he can be playful or he can be mean. No one ever knows which Brian they will see. Brian is so closed off. He won’t discuss what he’s thinking or worrying about. His family just feels more and more distant and no one knows what to do.

Shame is a toxic part of this family. What his wife and children don’t see is that Brian has a lot of shame. He doesn’t think he deserves his family and he believes they will all be much better off without him. He isn’t suicidal, he just doesn’t want to be around others when he is feeling the toxic effects of shame so acutely.

Even though Brian is the one feeling the shame, it affects his entire family. His kids don’t know his withdrawal is about Bryan’s issues. Like all kids, they assume it is because he doesn’t love them. Bryan’s wife believes he doesn’t love her enough either. Now Bryan’s shame transfers to all of them as a carried feeling. It is one way shame passes down from one generation to the next.

Bill tries to drink his shame away

Serena is married to Bill. Bill has three to four drinks every evening but refuses to consider he has a drinking problem–he just needs the alcohol to unwind. Sometimes Bill does get excessively drunk, and when he does he embarrasses everyone in the family

At his worst, he will call someone stupid or shout humiliating things, but this doesn’t happen often enough to concern him. He gets angry when his wife insists he stop drinking. That’s because Bill is using the alcohol to self-medicate.

Bill is very defensive. When his family points out his drinking is embarrassing to them, he gets angry. He insists they are all too sensitive. When I meet with Bill alone, I see the shame that he bears. His wisest self knows he is failing his family but he avoids taking responsibility because he already thinks he is a terrible person. He hides from the truth and keeps drinking to shut out the voices in his head that tell him he isn’t good enough or smart enough. He just wants everyone to leave him alone, so he uses anger to keep them away.

When I confronted Bill on his behavior, he was angry with me. He threatened to walk out and never come back. I told him he could absolutely do that, but I felt sure he was about to lose his wife and kids. I also told him that I knew he could look at himself and see what his family needed him to see: that he was hurting them and he could do better.

Bill sobbed on my couch and all the shame and humiliation he felt came pouring out of him. Bill was told he was worthless his entire life. He didn’t want to live this way any longer. Before he could make any real improvement he needed to go through our Breaking Free workshop. This workshop was the beginning of a new life for Bill.

Sandra had an affair because of shame

Mark is married to Sandra. Sandra is a stay-at-home with three small kids, while Mark is a successful professional who works long hours. Sandra loves her kids but she gets bored staying home all day. She has a college degree in philosophy but doesn’t think that will help her get a job. She doesn’t know what fuels her passion or purpose in life and she feels lost and alone.

Mark is always working and when he is home, she feels he is critical of her and how she spends her time. She admits she doesn’t do a very good job of cleaning and cooking but she just can’t motivate herself to care. She thinks Mark is brilliant but believes she has never lived up to her potential. Mark’s mother doesn’t like her either. Sandra reports that her mother-in-law is very critical and thinks Sandra takes advantage of her son, Mark.

When I met Sandra alone, I discovered that she has an inner critic that echoes the messages she got growing up. She is simply not enough. Not smart enough. Not pretty enough. Not fit enough. Not perfect enough.

Sandra went on a weekend trip with her girlfriends and met a man in a bar. This man paid her attention and made her feel special. For the first time in her life, she experienced the thrill of infatuation. She fell into a sexual and an emotional affair that lasted several months. But the guilt started to destroy her. She began fantasizing about driving off a bridge and ending it all. Her husband found out about the affair and her life fell apart.

Mark wants to work on the marriage, but Sandra is having a difficult time forgiving herself. She has shame attacks regularly. Until Sandra deals with the root of her insecurities and feelings of worthlessness, she will flounder around feeling lost and disconnected.

These are three different couples to help you see how shame can show up differently in relationships. Shame can manifest itself in isolation, anger, or self destructive behaviors. It keeps you a prisoner to lies that restrict your happiness and joy.

When shame is at its worst, I see clients who are unable to function in their daily lives.

Examples of how shame can manifest itself at the lowest point:

It causes depression even to the point of being suicidal.

Drinking to numb the pain – longing for relief from the misery of feeling unloved and unlovable

Binge eating or shopping excessively.

Viewing porn to numb the pain.

Engaging in extreme risk taking behavior to keep the adrenaline flowing

Using prescription or illegal drugs

Self-mutilating behavior like cutting or hitting hard objects with bare hands. Feeling physical pain often lessens the intense emotional pain shame causes.

How Do Shame Attacks Work?

Everyone makes up stories. When someone says something or shows us behavior, we assign meaning to what we see and hear. If we have a shame core, the meaning we assign is often negative and critical.

For example, if I hear my husband slam a door I have options in how I filter that event. One is to think he simply wasn’t paying attention and used too much force in shutting the door. I might check in with him to see if he is ok. I could also assume he was mad at me. Then I could think of some reason he may be mad and start to get angry at him. If I am someone who has a lot of shame, I would have a distorted filter so I would tend to take offense easily. Now we are off the races. All because I made up a story about a slammed door.

This is how shame frequently trips us up in our relationships causing us to imagine harm that is never intended.

Shame also enables us to get in relationships with people who aren’t good for us because it is someone who is more broken than we are and it is all we feel we deserve.

Or, shame keeps us stuck in a bad situation because we don’t have enough esteem to demand something better.

So we live with the bully, the addict, the serial cheater, the abuser.

Shame comes from childhood trauma

If you struggle with shame, somewhere in your childhood you were told or treated like you were not precious and valuable, like you didn’t matter.

Some of my clients who have shame battles are quick to tell me they did not have abusive childhoods.

Shame expert Pia Mellody defines trauma as “anything less than nurturing.”

Childhood trauma, big or small, creates shame

The big T’s of trauma are the overt abuse situations you expect:

beatings, sexual abuse, being told you are stupid.

But there are the little t’s of trauma:

Those are the situations where we didn’t get enough hugs and cuddles.

We had a parent who had to work all the time and couldn’t be there enough.

We were bullied in school or had parents who raged and fought all the time.

We may have had a parent who died or divorced.

Think of anything that made you feel minimized or shoved aside.

So basically, (by this definition) childhood trauma is the human condition because no one had the perfect childhood.

As a result, many of us have developed a shame core that resides just below our unconscious. That shame core infiltrates our unconscious and our conscious and causes us to have thoughts and feelings that inhibit our well being.

A counselor’s struggle with shame

I struggled with shame for most of my young adult life. This shame made me frequently depressed and anxious.

I would have a shame attack and would spend weeks in bed hiding from the world. I even became suicidal several times. No one who has met me in the past few years can believe what a mess I was at one time in my life. But I did learn how to conquer shame and so can you!

Pia Mellody developed a process for inner child work many years ago, but I had never heard about it. I fought for my mental health by using some of the same principles as Pia’s model, but I wish I had known about it because it would have helped me immensely.

To fight shame, you have to confront the lies you tell yourself and replace them with the truth even when you don’t believe it is the truth. You have to look at every story you make up about events and challenge them for truth.

Trauma work isn’t about blaming our parents for being less than perfect. Most parents do the best they can, and so we focus on impact not intent.

Inner Child Work can help you deal with shame

The Marriage Place is now offering a 3-day Breaking Free workshop that involves looking at your childhood trauma and processing it in a way that rewires the way the brain functions. This is a powerful, life-changing three days that can help you deal with addictions, shame, anger, depression and anxiety. Click here for more information.

Read more at https://themarriageplace.com/2016/02/how-shame-ruins-your-life-and-how-to-change-it/

#Couples Counseling #Marriage Counseling Online #Couples Coaching #Relationship Coaching Online #Relationship Intensives #Relationship Counseling for One #3 Day Breaking Free Workshop #Trauma Workshop #Discernment Counseling #Premarital Counseling #The Marriage Place

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cajunquandary · 7 years

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House of the Rising Sun

Characters: Sam, Dean, Hunter!Reader

Warnings: Canon level violence, poltergeist activity, angst

Word Count: 5300

Summary: Sam and Dean run into another hunter while working a case at a haunted house in New Orleans when they get trapped. With time working against them, they are surprised to discover the deep history of the house and the nature of its inhabitants and are forced to make a hard call.

A/N: House of the Rising Sun is an old folksong and many people have done covers of it, but The Animals did my favorite version. It’s one of my top three favorite songs. While listening to it a few days ago, the ideas for this fic came flooding to me. I hope you enjoy it! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2oKRKZnEoA

The doors of the Impala squeaked open as Sam and Dean slowly emerged, not once taking their eyes off of the two-story Victorian beauty that stood before them. While her many layers of paint were chipped and falling from her like snow every time the wind blew, her boards moaning in protest, some spindles and a few bricks missing here and there, she still stood tall and magnificent. Sam wondered what she’d looked like in full glory back in her day, knowing that the smudgy black and white photo clippings from news articles hadn’t done her justice. Dean shivered involuntarily when his eyes followed her dips and curves to the big golden sun amulet suspended on the second story balcony, and the weathered sign dangling from it that said “Rising Sun Casino.”

As massive as the home was, it was a blip compared to the giant casinos the boys had passed on their drive down. The neighborhood around her was just as empty, most just lots with mangled foundations where businesses and houses once stood. Chain link fences and trash littered the area, and grass grew in patches, thick and full, but not near the house. No—the entire acre was nothing but red clay and black dirt. The house itself bleached from its former vibrant blue, purple, and yellow to a white-washed gray, except for the golden amulet. Somehow, it seemed to glow, possibly even vibrate if you stared hard enough.

“Dean… maybe we should get back up.”

“What, Sammy, afraid of a few ghosts?”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, who had broken his eerie concentration and began to gather the necessary tools. “I’m just not so sure we should be doing this alone. We don’t know how many ghosts are in there, or how old and angry they are. You know like a hundred people or more have died here?”

“Yeah, yeah. You gave me the speech already. Prostitutes, gamblers, drunks, a few unlucky city workers, etcetera etcetera.”

“Not just that, but weird things have been happening here since it was made into a casino a century ago. Before that, it was a plantation home.”

“I get it Sam. Hey,” Dean slammed the trunk closed, arms full of extra salt and the usual duffle bag. “The other hunter should be here. She called and asked for help, so we’re her backup. What was her name?”

Sam helped take some of the boxes from Dean’s arms before they all toppled over. “Y/N, I think.”

“Yeah, Y/N should be here already. That’s probably her car.” Dean nodded towards the little diesel Volkswagen, grimacing slightly at the shape it was in. Sure, maybe it ran, but one of the tires was newly flat and the windshield was nearly shattered, not to mention the various dents on the body and missing front bumper. He glanced back towards the Impala lovingly, “I’d never treat you like that, Baby.”

Sam turned on his EMF reader, and they slowly approached the porch, watching all the windows that weren’t boarded up carefully as the last rays of the day shot through the shadows behind them.

“Here we go. Remember, the city is coming in to attempt demolition again. Last time, the entire crew was slaughtered. We have to get this done, and we only have three days.”

Dean eyed his brother cockily. “I’ll do it in one.”

The EMF reader went wild, the air around the boys dropping suddenly. The floorboards of the porch groaned beneath them angrily and the house seemed to move on its own. Just as they were fumbling for the salt guns, everything stopped as quickly as it’d begun. Sam swallowed hard and Dean flinched as you spun around the corner and stood in the doorway, facing them.

“Well don’t stand there all day, get in here, Winchester!” You put your hands on your hips in irritation, oblivious to the previous drop in temperature and quaking. You’d been in the house for a few days already and were in absolutely NO mood for tomfoolery, dried blood on your face and arms from wounds sustained during the stay so far. “And you can put that EMF reader away, the place is crawling with Death-Echoes and possibly a poltergeist.”

Sam and Dean, wide-eyed and worried, stepped over the threshold. Dean asked if you were okay, but you shrugged him away with a cold “I’m fine.” Sam tried to shake the feeling of hopelessness and dread that washed over him. There was no doubt that this place was evil—the boys knew real evil, and some of it was here with them in this house.

There is a house in New Orleans

They call the rising sun

And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy

And God, I know I’m one

Day One

The three sat huddled around the small flame in the grand fireplace at the center of the house, a salt circle around them. “Man, you couldn’t pack anything better than tuna?” Dean griped at Sam, sniffing the can suspiciously and pouting.

“You’re lucky I packed anything at all.”

“Well, we’ve been here for eight hours already, the sun’s gonna be up soon, and I haven’t seen a single ghost! EMF is still going crazy though. I’m hungry and bored, man.”

Dean offered you the can of tuna, but you held up your hand and graciously passed. “No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”

Sam scooped the last of his can into his mouth, chewing twice and swallowing. “So what got you started hunting, Y/N? You’re pretty young.”

My mother was a tailor

She sewed my new blue jeans

My father was a gamblin man

Down in New Orleans

“I’m twenty two, thanks, and I’ve got the soul of an old man. My mom was a teacher, and my dad was in the air force, both for thirty years. A vamp got them downtown one day after an anniversary trip to a casino. My sister and I got out, but my sister went into the system and I lost her, she wouldn’t talk to me anymore. Somehow their deaths were my fault. She needed someone to blame, and I was convenient. I chased the truth though, and here I am. She’s off at some fancy college now, and that’s where she should stay. She deserves a life.”

Dean looked to Sam, the guilt there he felt for dragging Sam back into the life evident even though he knew it would’ve happened anyway. “So where were the death echoes? What were they?”

“A few were service ladies here and there, murdered by their bosses and clients. A few others were gamblers gutted over debts, servants beaten to death, a few hung themselves in their rooms, you know, a normal spattering considering the history of this place.”

“And you said there might be a poltergeist?”

“Possibly, I think there is one seriously pissed off Egyptian ghost trapping everyone here. There are so many… sometimes it’s quiet, but others… it’s like hundreds of them all at once.” You remembered back to the first time you’d seen them. It had come all at once—one, two, four, twenty, two hundred, maybe more. This truly was one of the most haunted places you’d ever seen in your hunting career. Caught off guard by the sheer immensity of the moment, you’d been thrown backwards by an invisible force, hitting your head hard enough to pass out after a moment more of watching the echoes, vision blurring to black. When you’d come to, you’d called for back-up, the number Garth had left you for “just in case” some years ago. Your head pounded the whole time, and it was a wonder your message had been audible at all through the slurs of pain. Not but an hour later, you’d attempted to get to your feet when the echoes began again, this time with your iron rounds loaded and ready to take out the invisible ghost that’d thrown you. You aimed the direction it had come from before, shooting when the air began to whip around you. The force didn’t even flinch, and you looked around in horror as you realized that the force filled the entire house, radiating from every wall, door, window, floor, and ceiling. You went flying again, dragged all the way to the basement and tossed against the damp stone wall. It was there that you laid still and silent, hiding until you heard the Impala roll up.

Sam brought you back to the present. “Egyptian? Does it have something to do with the amulet outside? It looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure out where it’s from.”

You sighed, pulling your legs in closer, careful not to disturb the salt line. “It’s the amulet of Akhenaten, or originally, Amenhotep IV. He was an Egyptian pharaoh who ruled for seventeen years, known for abandoning many traditional views like polytheism and introduced worship around Aten, a solar deity who was supposed to bring great bounty.”

Dean scooched closer to the fire, the light reflecting beautifully off of his face and casting curious shadows across his eyes. “I take it not many people liked that.”

“That’s an understatement. They tore down his monuments, destroyed everything he’d done and built. All of his symbols and legacies. It’s rumored that he sold his soul to have the power of a god. He wanted to strike down his enemies, make them suffer. He lost his mind though, and I think he is still linked to the amulet outside. The problem is, every time anyone has tried to steal, vandalize, move, or adjust it, they die. Instantly. It’s made of pure gold, so many have tried.”

Dean nodded along, muttering a sarcastic “Great.”

Sam actually looked somewhat excited. “That’s cool! We’ve never come across an Egyptian pharaoh. How do we get to the amulet, though? If Akhenaten has become a poltergeist, does it matter? Is he keeping the ghosts here? Because there’s no mentions of hauntings until that amulet got here.”

“I think he is. I mean, they destroyed everything he worked for, he just wants attention. I haven’t seen him, but—“

Dean interrupted, “Wait, wait, wait. Poltergeists are attached to places where big evil has manifested, right? Like old demons? So what? Were the ‘ladies’ here summoning demons?”

“It’s possible, Dean. The people who came here were desperate, they came hoping for better lives but only found corruption, pain, and death—sin and misery. There’s no telling what could’ve gone down under this roof.”

As if on que, the fire flickered nearly out, causing Dean to jump back in concern. Sam whipped his head around, searching for the source. The three of you slowly got to your feet as the salt circle around you dissipated, seeming to melt into the floorboards. You gulped hard, the Winchesters already shouldering their shotguns. Just as it’d happened before, the death echoes appeared. One, two, four, twenty, two hundred. “Get ready!” You shouted over the growing din. You sunk back behind the large men, already in fear of what was to come. The wind in the room picked up, whipping the jacket around you, the boys shooting into the fray wildly, reloading faster than you knew anyone could. You were flying through the air again, the invisible force tearing at you violently and you screamed, struggling as it whipped you from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, and down the hall and to the basement.

When you woke, the sun was shining through the cracks in the boards on the windows. Carefully, you picked your way up the stairs back to the first level of the house, then up to the second, where Sam and Dean were trying desperately to break open the windows, doors, walls, anything to get outside.

“What’s wrong?” Your voice was small, quivering.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean exploded, sending the iron crowbar flying across the room until it lodged into the wall only inches from your head.

“Dean! Watch it! You nearly killed me!”

“We’re trapped. There’s no way out. How the hell are we supposed to kill this thing?”

“Well, if we could get one of the death echoes to realize that it’s dead, release it from its cycle, but convince it to destroy itself and attack the poltergeist, maybe. But even then, it might take several echoes to be strong enough to do it.” Sam looked exasperated, leaning against the wall and staring up at the ceiling that seemed all too close now.

“That’s not a bad idea, Sam. Tonight, let’s stir them up and see what we can do,” You offered, but Sam never looked up. Dean walked towards you and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” as he pulled the iron from the wall.

You smiled at him, unable to remain angry. You were far too tired for that. Soon, the boys were leaning together in a corner of the room, weapons across their laps at the ready, powering down for a nap before the sun set. Dean gasped and tensed, looking just over your shoulder, and you jumped to follow his gaze.

“What?!” You startled.

“I thought I saw something.” Dean shrugged it off.

Sam traded a sad look with his brother, and offered to stay up. Dean obliged, knowing that the best way to protect Sammy was when he’d had at least a few minutes of shut eye. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake here.

“Sam, I’ll stay up and keep watch. You guys get some rest, I think I got enough earlier. Get some sleep.” You settled down next to Sam, who began to shiver lightly, pulling his coat tighter around him. It wasn’t long before he was asleep as well, the brothers wrapped up in each other’s warmth.

Day Two

For nearly four hours, the house was silent, except for the occasional creaks and whispers of the old boards. The sun had set, and from what you could see outside, there wasn’t so much as a star in the sky. You could see nothing beyond your fingertips as you held them out. You struck a match and lit the old oil lamp close to you, not wanting to disturb the boys by reaching for their flashlights. What had happened to all your own gear? You couldn’t remember. No surprise really, after the beating you’d been through in the last few days.

Dean stirred with a gentle, tired moan with the illumination, and opened his eyes slowly at first, then wide when he looked at you. “Y/N…”

“What’s wrong, Dean? Are you okay?”

He swallowed hard, jaw clenching and eyes red-rimmed.

“Hey, I promise we’ll get out of here soon. Let’s try to talk to the echoes from here tonight, okay?” You tried to sound more reassuring than you’d felt, suddenly upset with yourself for bringing them into this and not leaving when you had the chance.

“I-I’m okay,” He whispered, amazement in his eyes. He gently shifted Sam from his shoulder to the wall and moved closer to you, his eyes not leaving you once. “How… How are you?”

“Alright, I guess. I got thrown pretty hard again. Honestly I’m surprised that my head doesn’t hurt as bad as it did the first time.”

“Why?”

“Why, what, Dean?”

“Why did you start hunting? I mean, I know why, but why did you keep going after you killed the vamp? You were so young…”

Now the only thing a gambler needs

Is a suitcase and a trunk

And the only time he’s satisfied

Is when he’s on a drunk

“Hey, I know I’m young but that doesn’t mean I’ll be doing this forever. I just wanted to help out around town. I had friends that needed help, then they had friends who did, too. I guess I just kinda got sucked into it. I’ve got plans though. I’d like to travel a little, I never have gotten out much. I don’t need any big life, just a little one. Me and the open road, fighting the bad guys. Yeah, I like that. Like you.” You gazed into the distance, eyes full of hope and longing. When you finally turned back to face him, Dean had a tear streak down his face.

“Trust me, that life ain’t nothin special.”

“Maybe not, but it’s better than what I’ve got here. I’ve always loved the open road, it’s the only time I’ve ever felt… satisfied, you know? I’ll fight anything any day, but I like to run, leave everything in the rearview. Just, bust into town, save the day, and out again.”

Dean just nodded grimly. From Garth’s description, the Winchesters seemed larger than life, maybe a little brooding, but mostly powerful, like they could take on anything and win without hardly breaking a sweat. To see the boys looking so small, so human, compared to the legends they were made to be put a dull ache in your chest. Maybe you shouldn’t be hopeful of an escape.

“Sam. Sammy!” Dean shouted as the temperature dropped lower, enough now that he could see his breath in the air. It was mid-summer, so none of you had dressed for the frigid atmosphere of the house at all times of day. Really, it only ever seemed to get colder. Still, the drops were a reliable warning. Dean crawled quickly to his brother, shaking him awake. Sam gripped his gun and pulled it to the ready out of reflex, catching your gaze and holding it, a loud gasp leaving his lips as he looked around, clearing the rest of the room. “Sam, no…”

The brothers traded a look you couldn’t decipher and Dean tapped his temple and shook his head slowly, helping Sam to his feet. The room was still. Too still. You could hear the brother’s heartbeats, racing, as yours must be.

The echoes began, but this time, you and the Winchesters were able to release a few before the invisible force of Akhenaten found you. The boys were thrown first, Dean recovering more quickly than Sam, screaming above the noise, and you were flying through the air again, the boys chasing after you. Before you knew it, you were back in the main room, ashes from last night’s fire scattered and suspended like snow in the air. You fought back, but once again, the poltergeist got the better of you and threw you down the stairs to the basement.

It wasn’t long before you’d come back around, choking in the mustiness of the moldy room. Worried about the other hunters, you bolted up the stairs, searching for them in the usual places, but finding them locked in a bathroom on the first floor. You opened the heavy door and tried to step over the threshold, but something was keeping you at bay. Before you could think of why, Dean stepped forward, Sam right behind him.

Sam’s mouth was pressed in a tight line. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine! Would y’all quit asking me that? I’m more worried about you two. Garth gave me the impression that you knew what you were doing and could handle a tricky situation like this.”

“Trust me sweetheart, there’s not much that could’ve prepared us for this.” Dean pushed past you, ever careful not to touch you, as you’d made it pretty clear you didn’t want to be touched in the first five minutes of meeting them. Now though, you almost craved the touch. When was the last time you’d been warm? When was the last time you’d had some human contact? Surely it’d been weeks. Maybe you could steal a lean at some point. Something—anything—to ground you and remind you of the warm world waiting for you outside those doors. Somewhere beyond this House of the Rising Sun was the sun rising and spreading its heat, and oh, how you longed for it, more than food, water, or anything you’d ever craved, you craved that.

You sighed, lost in thought, the boys already back in the main room, voices raising in argument. Curious, you resigned and followed. Sam stopped mid-sentence, unable to continue in your presence.

Oh Mother, tell your children

Not to do what I have done

Spend your lives in sin and misery

In the house of the Rising Sun

Dean turned towards you, nothing but hurt and anger in his eyes. “You want to fight monsters?”

“I do fight monsters, Dean.” What was he getting at?

“You sure? Okay. Then you sure as hell better be willing to become one yourself, ‘cause you know what? At the end of the day, somebody gets eaten. Somebody dies. Me and Sam? We’ve both been monsters. We’ve both died. Several times. And you know, I’m not totally sure that I ever stopped being a monster. That’s what this life does to you. To everyone. There’s no escaping it, not really.”

He was almost nose to nose with you now, and you could smell the whiskey on his breath. He must have more than holy water in those canteens.

“Dean, I know! Y—“

“No, you don’t, Y/N… not really.” Sam’s quiet interjection drew your and Dean’s attention, and the tension dissipated into something more morose, thickening the air.

“What don’t I know, Sam?” You whispered, suddenly afraid of the answer.

“You’re a death echo, too. You’re a ghost.”

The air seemed too stale now, stifling. The room was too small and too big, too hot and too cold, too bright and too dark. “What do you mean? I don’t understand?”

Dean took a step toward you, but you jerked away from his touch. “Y/N… We found your body in the basement after the first day. You’ve been dead for a few days, your body was already cold and stiff by the time we arrived. You’re the reason the EMF is always going haywire.”

“No… no. You’re lying.” You shook your head, backing away slowly.

Dean continued softly, “Then, you disappeared after the first echo event we saw. You reappeared right before the second, but I could tell you didn’t know you were dead. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… We should have been here sooner. I should’ve driven faster. I didn’t know…”

Your voice sounded foreign and distant, “So all this time? When you threw the crowbar? You apologized for almost hitting me.”

Dean looked up then, knowing that you must have thought you were part of the conversation. “We couldn’t see you. I apologized because you died before I could save you.”

It was then you realized that in all the times you were thrown into the basement, never once had you looked down, never seen your pale, broken body crumpled and tossed to the side.

Day Three

“Okay. We’re going to destroy this thing. Let’s start in the basement.” You’d had a little while to try to come to terms with your predicament.

“Are you sure? Maybe you should stay up here while we dig around.” Sam shifted on his feet uncomfortably.

“I can handle it. Besides, I’m probably the only one here who is fluent in old Egyptian hieroglyphs AND Cajun voodoo. You need me.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I used to do a lot of things,” You snapped.

“Okay, just don’t… ghost out on us.” Dean shouldered the bag of weapons and opened the door leading to the basement, flashlight at the ready to reach the edges where sunlight couldn’t. The brothers had tea tree oil dipped bandanas wrapped around their faces in preparation of the rancid smell of the lowest level of the house. If there was ever one true smell of death, this was it, the masks hardly able to make it bearable.

You tried to avoid looking at your remains, knowing that if you lingered too long, you would lose too much humanity and would be unable to complete your mission. And as your last, this was arguably the most important.

You nearly walked through Sam, making him shiver and jump slightly, but the boys’ eyes never left the wall. You followed their gaze to find old sigils, broken demon traps, but most of all, GET OUT written in what appeared to be your own blood. Even as disturbing as the image was, you couldn’t help but to scoff at the unoriginality of the threat. The brothers slowly turned to look at you, brows furrowed and Dean’s mouth slightly open, as he breathed “Really?” in response to your nonchalant reaction. You shrugged.

“What? I’m already dead. What do I have to fear?” You crossed your arms. You didn’t remember being this grumpy in life, but hey—you were freakin dead so who gives a damn? You wouldn’t be around long enough to become a vengeful spirit anyway, you all knew what had to be done. You had every right to be pissy and sarcastic.

While the house was largely void of any furniture or proof that people had ever actually lived or worked here, there were a few books still scattered about the basement, along with spell-casting ingredients, from feathers, bones, bowls, knives, and other nefarious items.

“Witches man,” Dean grumbled under his breath, beginning a rant that only he could hear.

Sam sighed and started flipping through one of the leather bound spell books. “Hey, get this, so they summoned demons here all the time to make deals, and even tried to put a leash on Akhenaten, often making sacrifices in his name.”

“Well that backfired.” Dean joined his brother’s side, eyes narrowed as he tried to see what Sam did. “And let me guess, when the sacrifices stopped, the angry dead king got pissed and started killing and trapping the souls here.”

You paced around the room, trying to remember the hieroglyphs of protection and purification. It only took a moment, and you picked up a small bowl and searched through the ingredients, finding sage, salt, griffin feather, and finally holy oil from Dean’s duffle.

You’d caught their attention and they watched you closely. You stood before them, not wanting to ask for the final ingredient. Sam nodded first, blinking hard and reaching for his knife, positioning it over his forearm. Dean grasped his hand, stopping Sam before he made the cut.

“I’ll do it.” Dean took his own knife and opened a vein into the bowl before Sam could protest.

“Thanks, Dean. I’d use my own, but… You know.” When there was enough of the foul mixture, you stood to begin destroying the current sigils and replacing them with new ones—some that would hopefully weaken the poltergeist enough for you to destroy it. You tried not to think about what might happen after the fight. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed; rather, it transforms from one form to another. You held onto this knowledge, hoping that there wasn’t just nothingness or pain on the other-other side.

The sun was beginning to set again.

The house was covered in sigils and protection symbols now, and lined with salt to keep anything from escaping. You stared at the Winchesters, drinking in their apparent strength and beauty. You wanted to memorize them, as they would be the last warm thing you’d ever know. You were quiet, locked within yourself, chest full of icy cement. Your eyes stung, but remained perfectly dry. The house was silent, air stale with the weight of your coming sacrifice in the room. No one wanted to talk about it. Dean had already made it clear that he would do anything else if he could, but understandably, protecting Sam was his priority, as well it should be. When Dean felt your eyes on him, he lifted to meet your gaze, eyes sunken and red rimmed from lack of sustenance and sleep. You knew the men were running on empty. You prayed that you’d be strong enough to beat this thing.

The moment the death echoes started, Sam jumped to his feet and slapped his bloody palm to the nearest sigil, dissipating the ghosts temporarily, along with you. You faded from their sight, but remained in the room, suddenly face to face with the pharaoh. You swallowed hard, taking one last glance at the Winchesters, who were looking all around, searching for the source of the wind that whipped about them. With a flick of his hand, the old king sent the men flying backwards. A deeper rage than you’d ever felt before ignited within you, and you surged towards the evil entity.

Well, I’ve got one foot on the platform

The other foot on the train

I’m going back to New Orleans

To wear that ball and chain

The Winchesters looked on in a heap on the floor together, arms over their faces as your bright white light spun twisted and neutralized the black wiry smoke of the poltergeist. The house quaked, dust and debris beginning to fall from the ceiling, pieces of wall collapsing. In one last violent shriek and flash of blinding light, everything was over. Even though it was the middle of the night, light from outside the house finally filtered through, illuminating the damage. The brothers helped each other to their unsteady feet, blinking and adjusting. They could hear the wind and crickets outside now. Dean ran to the front door and found that it had swung open. At last, they were free. Dean smiled then turned to look back at Sam.

Sam stood in awe, watching little orbs slowly find their way through the roof and on towards heaven, Dean joining in his wonder. You were gone, but your sacrifice freed hundreds. Dean wiped at the tear forming in his eye and patted his brother on the back. “Come on, Sammy, our work’s not done.”

Sam nodded, following Dean to the basement to collect your remains. Just as the sun crested on the horizon, Dean lit your pyre. The boys stood there just long enough to make sure you had a proper hunter’s funeral, then moved to leave. “Wait Dean.”

Sam pointed to the sun amulet. He ran back into the house and came out to the balcony, easily unhooking it from old weathered hooks that nearly crumbled in his hands. He planned on adding this to the Men of Letters inventory of possibly cursed objects and lost artifacts. The Impala growled to life below him, and he sprinted back to the car, knowing Dean would make him walk for a few miles if he didn’t hurry.

Sam jumped in Baby just as Dean put her in reverse. “Man, I never wanna come back here again. Let’s go get some grub and a bed. What say you, Sammy?”

Sam looked at the golden tablet in his hands. “Yeah, I’m pooped.”

Dean leaned over and turned up the radio, so ready to have some tunes after the ordeal. It was a familiar tune, and Dean began to back out of the driveway, slamming the brakes when he recognized it.

“Well there is a house in New Orleans

They call the rising sun

And it’s been the ruin of many a poor boy

And God, I know I’m one”

Dean and Sam both reached for the radio, racing to switch it off. They looked at each other and swallowed hard, then turned to catch the last glimpse of the dreadful house.

The House of the Rising Sun.

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction

#chris writes #dean x reader #sam x reader #dean x reader x sam #no pairing #supernatural fanfiction #working a case

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lady-divine-writes · 7 years

Text

Coldflash - A “Cover Up” one-shot - “The Snowflake Tattoo” (Rated NC17)

On one of Len's trips to 2016, Len asks Barry for a special favor ... he just doesn't make it all that easy for Barry to give it to him. (4759 words)

So this takes place at some point before the epilogue of the original story. It shows Barry giving Len his snowflake tattoo, and Len giving Barry his pinkie ring. It's also a prelude, a bit of foreshadowing, for the sequel that I'm writing that I hope to have up soon. There is also a nod to @crimsondomingo fic "Unexpected Ink" in here. For those of you who haven't read her fic, let's just say that Barry was originally going to threaten Len with a Tweety Bird tattoo xD Warning for Len giving Barry a handie at an inappropriate time, and a little bit of angst.

Read on AO3.

“Where is he? Where is he? Where is he? Where is he?” Barry mutters, pacing through his mostly empty shop. He picks up pieces of trash, and wipes down work stations as he passes them by regardless of if they’re dirty or not, keeping himself busy to keep from going insane.

“Who?” Molly, working late putting the finishing touches on a full sleeve, asks. She smirks as Barry obsessively tidies up her station, collecting stained paper towels and empty dye cups. “Your man?”

“No,” Barry responds without thinking, then quickly backpedals. “Well, yes, but I’m referring to my next client.” He spits the two words out like they’re tacks on his tongue. “Apparently some guy called last minute and somebody squeezed him in.” He glares at his receptionist, Colette, sitting behind her counter, calmly reading a current issue of Inked.

“Not my fault,” she claims, licking her fingers and flipping the page. Barry decides at that moment that that issue is going home with her. “He was very persuasive.”

“Oh yeah?” Barry turns up the wattage on his glare but he can’t keep it up. He doesn’t get miffed at his staff too often, or for too long. They work too hard, they support him no matter what, and besides – he’s too excited to be angry. “What exactly did he say?”

“I said,” a voice booms from the front door, one that has Colette grinning and Barry’s eyes widening before it speaks another word, “if you give me the last time slot, you’ll probably get a bonus.”

“Len?” Barry spins so quickly, he looks like a smear of red shirt, brown pants, and blue Converse. The moment he sees Len, Barry’s eyes light up – literally. Len can swear he sees a crackle behind them, like bottled lightning bubbling underneath. It has to be the time sickness, Len thinks. His vision’s been kind of shifty the entire walk over. He still can’t manage those jumps without getting a colossal headache. They last a few hours sometimes. That has to explain this. He’s seeing things. “You’re here!”

“Yeah, Red.” Len falls backward a step with an oof when Barry leaps into his arms. The nickname is recent - a nod to Barry’s obsession with the color red. Half of the t-shirts he owns are red … and most of his underwear. “I’m here.”

Barry doesn’t give Len the chance to say another word, fitting his mouth over his boyfriend’s while Len slides a hand underneath Barry’s ass for a gratuitous squeeze. And that’s it – the universe around them disappears. Evaporates completely away. Wrapped up in each other’s arms, lost in their own world, Barry and Len don’t hear the tittering of two employees and a customer watching them with rolled eyes and bitten lips.

“I missed you, big guy,” Barry murmurs into Len’s mouth.

“I missed you, too, Red.” Len’s eyes shift to the side, peering around Barry’s body when a titter turns into a snort. “Uh … do you think we can be alone?”

“What? Oh.” Barry snickers like he genuinely forgot that anyone else was still around. “Hey, Moll?” he calls over his shoulder, but he doesn’t let that stop him from kissing Len’s mouth and chin. “You almost done?”

“Just finished, boss,” she says. “I’m taping up now.”

“Good. When you’re done, I want everybody out.”

“Don’t you want us to stay and help you clean up?” Colette teases. Right. Like she ever cleans.

“No,” Barry says. “Just go.”

“Are you sure?”

Barry snaps his head to the side and raises his voice. “Do you want that bonus or not?”

“I’m going, I’m going.” She rushes past in mere seconds with her coat already on and buttoned to the neck. “Have a nice night you two.”

“Oh, we will.” Len winks, but at Barry, not at her.

Molly’s customer follows, leaving with an uncomfortable nod and a wave for the two men wrapped around one another without a care in the world. Finally Molly, rushing for the door, tossing the sleeves of her jacket over her arms as she goes.

“Bye, Barry. Bye, Len.”

“Bye, Molly,” they both manage to mutter, but not all the words together, and not at the same time. Len may have said bye, and Barry may have added Molly, but no one knows. Len hears Molly pull down the gate, and with the click of a padlock, they’re completely alone.

“So,” Barry says as Len returns his feet to the floor, “you wanna go upstairs? Grab a bite?”

“In a bit.” Len resists (with superhuman willpower) that suggestive whisper of Barry’s. Barry wields it with the most innocuous of phrases, turning them into seductive sentences. “But not yet.”

Barry frowns, but he’s more wary than disappointed. As eager as Len always sounds to talk to him while he’s away, Barry knows this long-distance relationship must be hard on him. It’s hard on Barry. Barry has no intention of giving up, but what if, someday, Len decides it’s too difficult on his end to continue? They may have only been seeing each other for a relatively short time, but time means nothing to them. It feels like they’ve known one another forever … and Barry’s not ready to say goodbye. “Is … is something wrong?”

“No. Not at all.” Len gives Barry’s ass another reassuring squeeze. “I was just going to ask for a favor.”

“Oh. Okay.” Barry sounds slightly more relieved, but also slightly more confused. “What’s the favor?”

“Can I get another tattoo?”

Barry’s lips split into a grin so blissful, it stutters Len’s heartbeat. “Really? You want another one?”

“Yup.” Len loves his dragon more than anything he’s ever owned, even his gun, but he wants something that’s easier for him to see. Something he doesn’t have to get undressed and stand in front of a mirror to look at, especially aboard the Waverider. He wants something that he can gaze at while he’s in bed talking to Barry, feeding his fantasies of his boyfriend before he tries to go to sleep. “I was thinking, maybe, on my arm? Or the back of my hand?”

Barry bites his lips together as if he was hoping Len would say that. “Well, as a matter of fact, there is something I’ve been thinking up for you.”

“Great.” Len lets go of Barry so he can lock the inner front door. “How much?”

“Nu-uh.” Barry grabs Len’s hand and drags him over to his work station. “This one’s on the house. Consider it a gift.”

“Barry …”

“Just … stop being stubborn and let me give you a present,” Barry argues, pushing Len into a chair. “I thought this tattoo up for you. No one will ever have it if I don’t put it on you, and I’m not charging you for it.”

“I could always just figure out a price and slip the money into your register,” Len counters as Barry slips on a pair of purple nitrile gloves and starts getting his dye cups set up.

“Yeah? Well, I could take that money back out of the register and give it to your sister after you leave.”

Len opts for an impressed face instead of arguing further. “You’re a shrewd negotiator, Mr. Allen.”

“I consider that a compliment coming from you, Captain Cold.”

“You should.” Len chuckles, but Barry just stares at him, eyes hopeful. And Len caves, because he can’t deny Barry anything. “Okay, okay, it’s a gift. But just this once.”

Barry smirks triumphantly. “Of course.” He puts a fresh set of needles on his gun. “Far be it for me to keep you from spending money that isn’t yours.” He’s kidding, but his words still carry a bitter tang.

“Hey, if I go through the trouble of stealing it, it belongs to me,” Len jokes, but lightly, and with a fair amount of guilt. Over time, Barry found out about Len’s criminal exploits. Len came clean about his past, told Barry about the majority of it. A few Barry discovered for himself using Google. Some of them were easy to stomach; some of them, a hell of a lot harder. But through it all, Barry chose to judge Len for the man he knows, not the man Len was, even if Barry does take a jab at him from time to time. But Barry only treads ankle deep into the minor infractions. He doesn’t hold the larger, more amoral ones over Len’s head. Len was raised to be a career criminal by the same monster who carved those disgusting, hateful words down Len’s back. It wasn’t Len’s choice. And besides, the man Barry met while giving Lisa her tattoo, the one who travels through time on the Waverider and saves people - he’s not a criminal in Barry’s eyes. He’s a legend. “But that doesn’t matter because I haven’t done that in a while.”

“A long while?” Barry asks with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, Barry. A long, long, long while.”

Barry motions for Len’s hand and Len offers him the left one. Barry pulls up a small table. He presses Len’s hand flat on it, then starts cleaning the skin on the back.

“If I recall,” Len continues, “your heart is the last thing I stole.”

Barry’s smile burns slow, like he’s trying to hold it back, but when he can’t, he snickers. “That’s really corny, do you know that?”

Len leans forward, coming forehead to forehead with Barry, breaking through the veil of Barry’s concentration. “Did you like it?”

Barry’s mouth meets Len’s for a quick kiss. “Yeah. Yeah, I did.”

Satisfied, Len sits back in his chair and out of Barry’s light. Not that Barry needs it. Len’s pretty sure Barry can give him this tattoo in the dark. “So, whaddya have in mind this time?”

“Nu-uh. You don’t get to know what it is until I’m done.”

“That’s kind of an unusual way to do things in a tattoo parlor, ain’t it?”

Barry holds his gun over Len’s hand, preparing to switch it on. “Do you trust me?”

“More than anyone in my life right now.”

“Then let me do my job.” Barry winks. “Gun on.” Barry makes it a point to warn Len before he switches his gun on, just in case. Lord knows what Len’s done or seen out on the Waverider. Barry doesn’t want to take any chances and accidentally trigger unpleasant memories.

Len appreciates it. He doesn’t feel like Barry’s babying him or handling him with kid gloves. Barry is concerned about him. It’s nice to have that in his life from someone other than Lisa. He’s not about to admit that Lisa was right about all of this though. He’d rather lob off his hand again.

Len has considered the very real possibility that Barry may actually love him. Len doesn’t know yet. Barry hasn’t said the actual words, but Len hasn’t either. He just sort of feels like he knows. Barry’s not all that adept at hiding his feelings. He gives Len his all whenever Len’s in town – his time, his attention, a place to stay and food to eat. Len thinks that Barry may have come close once or twice, but that’s been during sex. Len knows better than to look for truth in any confession made while his dick’s in someone else’s body.

But one day, Len’s going to have to find a way to wheedle it out of him, see if he’s right.

Not tonight though. Tonight Len will pretend that they have all the time in the world to stay at Barry’s place and simply be with one another.

“So, how long so you think this is gonna take?” Len asks, watching Barry draw an outline on the back of his hand in silver ink. From the shape of it, it looks like it could be a star. Or a spider web. “Ballpark?”

“Um … about an hour, I think? Maybe less if the shading goes off without a hitch.” Barry grows the image from the outside in, carefully going back over the lines twice to make sure they’re smooth. Len appreciates Barry’s perfectionism, his attention to detail, even if going over those lines on this particular area of skin smarts like the dickens.

Len watches Barry’s face, tongue trapped between his teeth as he susses out the image, letting it emerge beneath his gun without a guide like he does all of his tattoos. It’s a mesmerizing process to behold, how Barry takes a void of blank skin and creates a masterpiece entirely from scratch. But Len misses Barry. He misses touching Barry, kissing Barry, feeling Barry quiver underneath him. Being this close to Barry without having his naked body pressed against Len’s is something Len is having a difficult time waiting for. So since Len’s going to be sitting there for an hour, he figures he’ll distract himself.

And maybe Barry, too, for that matter.

Len leans forward in his chair and rests his right hand on Barry’s knee. Barry doesn’t say anything. He’s used to Len touching him. It’s when Len’s hand starts making its way up Barry’s thigh that Barry’s eyebrows lift.

“Uh, Len …” Barry’s grin climbs up his cheeks “… what are you doing?”

“I was just thinking …” Len’s hand creeps further up Barry’s leg towards his crotch “… how badly could I bother you while you’re working and still get a halfway decent tattoo?”

“I guess that depends on if you want it turning out looking like Hello Kitty or not.”

“Lisa would love that.” Len pops the buttons to Barry’s fly with a single tug, then sneaks his hand past the waist band to find Barry already growing in anticipation of Len’s touch. Thank God Barry’s not a fan of super tight jeans or else this would be unnecessarily difficult.

“Are you really doing this now?” Barry asks. He switches inks, shifting subconsciously in his seat to accommodate the fingers wrapping around his cock.

“Barry, I’ve been away from you for months. Yes, I’m really doing this now.”

“Len,” Barry complains, then moans, “Jesus,” with Len’s first stroke down and up. Len’s hand, warm and dry, finds a rhythm along Barry’s skin that’s steady, easy for Len to maintain with his arm torqued in this awkward position. Barry gasps softly while Len strokes, focused on not moving or twitching too much so as not to screw up Len’s tattoo. But staying how he is, his body stalwart against this erotic assault while his mind and hands work, is torture.

When a small pearl of pre-cum dots the tip of Barry’s cock, Len’s instinct is to swipe it up and lick it off his finger, but the need to keep this rhythm up, to not let go, is so much stronger. “Mmm, maybe we should have gone upstairs first,” Len murmurs as he brings a thumb up and over the head of Barry’s cock to collect it, and then wipes it down Barry’s shaft.

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m dying to taste you.”

“Fuck …” Barry groans, swallowing heavily. “Th-that is rather unfortunate, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. But if I get you to cum like this, then I can lick you off my hand.”

Barry whines. “Len … you can’t … mmm … you can’t say that when …”

“When …?”

“When I can’t get to you.”

“But you have me, Barry. Absolutely and completely. And the second you’re done with that tattoo, I get my turn, don’t I?”

“Yes …” Barry whispers, barely breathing as Len’s hand picks up speed. Barry spreads his legs wider, and Len pulls in closer.

“Though, I think I could do this all night if you’re going to take your time with that tattoo,” Len teases. “Heat you up and then …” Len stops stroking “… cool you down.”

“Oh God,” Barry mutters, pausing only a millisecond when his eyelids flutter closed. “Don’t do that, Len ... just …”

“But it’s so much fun, Red.” Len strokes fast, then stops short. Barry squirms in his chair, his legs shuddering the second Len’s hand comes to a halt.

Fisting over Barry’s cock, stopping and starting, stopping and starting, has Barry muttering in frustration around helpless mewls. Len brings Barry close to cumming, and Len could just let him, but he’s too fascinated watching Barry work under pressure. Aside from the man’s cock in his hand, throbbing every time Len squeezes, and his fidgeting legs, which probably wouldn’t be obvious to anyone not sitting close up and personal, Len wouldn’t be able to tell that Barry is in any way distracted. For a moment, a moment that Len hates himself for, he imagines Barry cracking a safe or hacking into a database … or aboard the Waverider. Doing what, Len doesn’t know. Barry said he has a background in science. Forensics. That could be useful somehow. But even if Barry doesn’t have a “questionable” specialty the way the rest of them do, his calm under stress, nearly unfaltering, is a talent that Len envies.

Len can be cool as a cucumber when he wants to, but he’s had slip ups. True patience is not a skill that can be taught, regardless of what Lewis Snart believed. Barry is like a man split in two, existing in a place where he can feel and experience fully, and another where he can push that aside.

Len wants to know how far that goes, how much Len has to push to make those personas smack back together.

He wants to know what he has to do to make Barry surrender.

He can’t rely on tormenting Barry’s body to do that for him. He has to get into Barry’s mind.

“Barry,” Len says, slowing his strokes to a gentle massage, “I want you, Barry Allen. So damn much …”

“J-just … g-give me a mo-moment,” Barry begs, scooting towards the edge of his chair to persuade Len to speed up. “I’m almost done …”

“No, Barry. I want you now. I want down on my knees so I can blow you in that chair.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to work on your tattoo that way.” Barry hiccups, and his non-gun hand shakes, but so imperceptibly, Len’s surprised that even he noticed.

“Well, we could take a tiny break then, couldn’t we? So I can have my mouth full of you?”

The sound Barry makes next is high-pitched and strangled, his legs fighting the shudder to simply tap out a beat while his hand moves faster, desperate to get Len’s tattoo done before he cums.

“God, I love having you in my mouth, Barry. You know, I’ve never met a man who tastes the way you do. It’s not something I particularly enjoy, giving head, so I don’t do it. But with you, I can’t help myself. Could you imagine being on the Waverider with me? I’d never get anything done cuz I could never get my fill of you.”

“G-god …” Barry moans, teeth clenched. For Len, Barry’s locked jaw brings to mind the last time he and Barry had sex – Barry in his lap, fucking him with all his limber strength and encompassing heat, mumbling a constant mixture of Len’s name and oh God until, right before he came, all he could say was oh Len, which, of course, Len preferred much better.

“Or, I could let you fuck me, Red. We’ve only done that a few times, but you’re so damn good at it.” Barry sucks his trembling lower lip between his teeth and bites down. Len smiles. Now he’s getting somewhere. “I think that’s exactly what I need after so many months away from you – a nice, slow, relaxing fuck. Whaddya think? Would you do that for me?”

“Yes … oh God, yes …”

Barry’s close, but somehow he’s finding a way to keep himself from tripping over that edge. But Len has plenty of tricks up his sleeve, one that he think might be the key. He stops stroking and lets go. Barry sighs in frustration and relief. Len smirks, because he’s not done with his boyfriend yet. He licks his palm and goes back to stroking before Barry can take a solid breath, and that does it. Barry’s hips jump from that sensation of wet along with Len’s heat. He drops down in his seat, unable to sit up straight anymore with the pressurized pleasure that’s filling his body. Barry’s needles dig into Len’s hand, and even though Len hisses, he barely feels it because the expression on Barry’s face becomes transcendent.

“Jesus,” Barry moans, retaining enough sense to turn off his machine as he starts to buck into Len’s fist, “Christ.”

“There you go, baby,” Len says, watching transfixed as Barry inches closer and closer, his head tilted back with eyes closed, mouth twisted into a smile of ecstasy. “How’s that feel? You been missin’ that?”

“Yes,” Barry gasps, grabbing blindly for a paper towel to cover his cock so he doesn’t spurt cum all over his sterile work station. “Yes. Goddammit … I … that was …” Barry rolls his head to his right and chokes. “Uh oh. Ah …” Barry puts a hand over Len’s to block his view.

“Oh no, you’re not getting out of this that easily.” Len yanks his hand out from underneath Barry’s. “Let me take a look at oh shit!” Len laughs at the string of wobbly lines and wonky coloring that used to be a perfect, shimmering snowflake.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Barry grabs a spray bottle of cleaner and starts re-sterilizing his work space. He hastily shoves his limp cock back in his pants, then snaps on new gloves. He switches out his needles and gets fresh dyes, rushing as if the devil himself were his client. “I can fix it.”

“I know you can.” Len reclines in his chair, leisurely licking Barry’s cum from his hand while Barry works. “I’m not worried one bit.”

Barry flattens Len’s messed up hand on the freshly cleaned work space. He wipes down Len’s tattoo with a wet paper towel to clear off the excess ink and see what he has to work with. He glances momentarily at his boyfriend, whimpers when Len’s tongue wraps around his index finger, then gets back to work.

After that detour, Barry is complete focus … and incredible speed. So much so that Len sits up, his eyes drawn to the way Barry moves.

Len’s been gone a while, but still, what the hell’s happened between then and now? Did Barry fall into a vat of toxic waste or get bitten by a radioactive spider and neglect to tell him?

Barry has this tattooing thing on lock, moving between lines and colors, cleaning his needles and reworking the image. The new picture seems to move across Len’s skin under Barry’s gun, changing, rearranging, transforming, until what had started out as an amazing snowflake is now an exceptional snowflake.

In barely five minutes, Barry shuts off his gun and wipes down Len’s hand, not acknowledging with any conceit the feat he completed in Guinness World Record time.

“What do you think?” Barry asks, pulling off his gloves and tossing them in the trash. He overlooks Len’s pinched brow of confusion, his eyes darting between Len’s unreadable face and the tattoo, waiting impatiently for Len’s seal of approval. “Do you … do you like it?”

Len holds his hand up to the light so he can get a better look. “It’s incredible,” he says, turning his hand and examining the inks, a gradient of colors from white to silver to blue layered in so many hues that they seem to twinkle as he moves. “Absolutely.” But aside from the wonder of Barry’s talent, these awe-inspiring pieces of art that he comes up with in a flash, it’s how he works that has Len dumb-struck … and concerned. This thing that Barry does, this blur that he becomes – it’s not natural.

It’s not human.

Len doesn’t want to put too much weight on it, but every time he sees Barry, this speed of his … it increases.

Len forces a smile more than usual; he doesn’t want Barry to know that he’s worried. “Are you ever gonna tell me how you work that fast?”

“Nu-uh,” Barry says, obviously less worried than Len. “Trade secret.”

Maybe Barry doesn’t notice, Len thinks. Maybe he doesn’t see or feel how much he’s changed. But if that strange vibrating thing is happening to Barry on the outside, Len can’t help but wonder what’s happening to him on the inside. The only way he would ever know would be to take Barry to the Waverider and have Gideon do a full work up on him.

But how badly would it destroy Barry’s life if Rip Hunter knew what Barry could do?

That point’s moot because, without doing some severe damage to the timeline, there will be no hiding this from Rip. Time Masters have a way of finding out everything. If something is happening to Barry, some kind of transformation, then it’s already written into the timeline … and Rip will find out about it eventually.

If that time comes and Rip, or anyone, comes after Barry, will Len be able to protect him?

Will Len be around to protect him?

That may be a convincing argument for leaving the Waverider for good.

“Hey … hey, Len ... Leonard …” Len looks away from his snowflake and into the troubled eyes of his boyfriend. ”Hey. Where did you go just then? You disappeared on me for a bit.”

“Here.” Len doesn’t answer Barry’s question. He can’t. If he’s afraid of what may happen in the future due to natural progression, he’s not about to jumpstart anything with an explanation. “I want you to have this.”

Barry’s seen the ring before. Len wears it on and off, but Barry has never asked him about it. Barry’s thoughts about it border between it being extremely important, and not so important. But as Len wrenches it off his finger and slips it onto Barry’s, Barry can’t help feeling that it’s more important than he gave it credit for.

“Wha---“ Barry gapes at the ring when it’s finally on his finger, “what is this for?”

“I’ve had this ring for a long time,” Len says, curling Barry’s fingers, then holding his fist. “It’s a relic from a less than stellar past. But it means something to me, something important. Something that I’ve needed to be reminded of again and again over the course of my life.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I’m my own person. That no matter what hand the universe deals me, my choices are my own. I want you to remember that you are your own person, Barry Allen. That no matter what, no matter what choice you’re given, your decisions are your own. And you have to do what’s best for you.” Len brings Barry’s fist to his mouth and kisses his knuckles. “The future needs you, Barry Allen.”

Barry stares at Len, his boyfriend’s eyes closed as his lips gently brush Barry’s skin, and Barry feels breathless. Breathless over Len’s sincerity, and at the conviction behind his words … their unexpected urgency. Suddenly, he becomes afraid. “I guess you would know, huh?”

Len shrugs. “Maybe.” His gaze lifts, and he looks in Barry’s eyes. “But I need you, too. And that’s the only future I care about. Yours and mine.”

Barry nods. Something’s going on with his boyfriend. Barry doesn’t know exactly what yet, and he’s sure that Len will tell him in time, but that doesn’t make Barry any less uneasy. Barry presses his lips to Len’s forehead, needing to be closer to the man now more than before.

“Take me upstairs?” Barry whispers. “And make love to me? And let’s … not get out of bed again until you have to leave. We can order in, eat naked, shower often, and forget that everyone else exists for a while. What do you say, big guy?”

“That sounds like a plan,” Len says. “One we should get started on yesterday. Maybe earlier.” Barry stands and takes Len’s right hand, leaving the left with the snowflake tattoo un-taped until they get upstairs. He leads Len through his shop to the staircase at the back. “Should we order a pizza?” Len asks as Barry unbolts the door.

“Duh,” Barry says. “What the hell else is there to eat?”

#Coldflash #Barry Allen #Leonard Snart #Frankie writes

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