#spent all day in agony in bed because my fucking parents keep dragging us around on this awful vacation to whatever suits their whim w/o

[lepidopterium]

!!!

#spent all day in agony in bed because my fucking parents keep dragging us around on this awful vacation to whatever suits their whim w/o #asking us what we want or even showing any care for how we're doing or adjusting #i didnt want to leave the house of my aunt in cairo. i have privacy there and its closest to what im used to living in #i can tolerate the heat wave there despite my antidepressants. and im genuinely happy and at ease #but now im at the aunt who lives in the country and. bless her i love this aunt but i cant function here #the water is polluted and spending most of the vacation out here dried up my hair and skin badly. not to mention i havent been drinking #enough water because i can only safely drink bottled water which is expensive #and truly ive been trying to make the best of things but im trapped. i cant go anywhere. im always physically uncomfortable bc i #cant get used to living in the country like this. im surrounded by people who act friendly and sweet but still dont take no for an answer #whether it be forcing me to eat meat or like in the case of my baby cousin sticking to me bc i listen to her talk #and im scarred from being forced by my family out here to apologize to my mother (and they tried to get me to hug her) after SHE pulled a #knife on me and the aunt from cairo had to wrestle it out of her hand #i feel ill listening to cousins i looked up to as a kid talk about gay people and effeminate men the way they do #and i cant be at ease bc as a woman i have to act and dress in a way im not only used to but despise #ultimately ive had to mentally erase who i am and my needs so i can get through the day to day here #bc i cant go anywhere. i cant eat or dress how i like. i have limited access to things that bring comfort. i can barely communicate. #i have no privacy. and i have to act polite and happy no matter how i feel. and im physically ill from this heat #i cant even use the bathroom out here. no ready access to clean water either. i dont even have these basic things #and im trying to sleep but everyone is in this fucking room and the lights are on and theyre all chatting so i had to bury my face in my #sleeve and just quietly cry because im exhausted and there's nothing i can do about it but endure #i want to go home. i want to at least be back in cairo where i feel semi normal. #im sick and need to shower with warm. clean. water #i can't keep enduring nonstop daily discomfort on the most basic level. and i have no where to go #and i feel like a baby for complaining. but there is nothing for me here. and i can only survive here by pretending im not here and just #letting things happen BUT. im at my limit by now. #she pulled a fucking knife on me and then they made ME apologize. she was going to kill me. #im all alone. i want to go home. #plus everyone keeps touching me. i cant get any space. everyone keeps talking to me about marriage and kids and then getting upset when i #say no. i dont want that. i mean it. its not a joke. i dont want that. why wont they stop fucking bringing it up. why do they insist it's #wrong of me to want otherwise. barely have a glimpse of who i am and already im teetering on disdain from jokes that are actually serious

[tsukiihime]

Heartbreak (Bakugo x Reader, Shinsou x Reader)

Hey everyone! This is my first BNHA piece, something I wrote when I was bored and thought what the hey, I’ll post it! Feedback is appreciated!

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairings: Bakugo x Reader, Shinsou x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of cyberbulling, swearing, breakup, angst, just kind of a sad piece overall?

Next Chapter

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When you started dating the Explosion Hero Dynamight, you knew that you were throwing yourself to the wolves. The media is cruel and the fans even crueller - if they deem you unworthy for their Hero then you’re in for a hell of a time - and not in a good way. But you loved Bakugo - you’ve loved him more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and for two years of your life you’ve been by his side as he  climbs through the Hero charts. 

But recently, the media has been sniffing a little too close to home. Someone has tipped the tabloids off to your existence and ravenous fans have been finding your social media day after day. Your selfies on Instagram are being bombarded with hateful comments on everything ranging from your weight to your skin color to your fashion sense, while your Twitter messages are flooded with paragraph after paragraph full of venom and vitriol. You can no longer take the headlines, the hate, the disgust being dished out at you day and day out. You beg your boyfriend to do something, anything to make the media leave you alone. Which brings you to tonight - in a heated argument with the Hero Dynamight.

“All I’m saying is that if you address the media, if you tell them that I’m your girlfriend, they might back off. I can’t do this anymore Katsuki, I can’t keep waking up and seeing this shit on my feed!” You’re so angry you’re shaking, and it’s pissing you off even more that Bakugo stares at you, unblinking and unfazed, arms crossed in indifference.

“You know I can’t do that. I do that, and my ratings plunge.” Your eyes widen in disbelief as soon as those words leave his mouth, you can’t believe he even said that. 

“Are you serious Katsuki? Is beating Deku and becoming the number one hero really worth more to you than us? Than me?” Tears threatened to spill over at any moment, your fists clenching until your nails left tiny red crescents in your skin. You stared at vermilion eyes refusing to back down, waiting with trembling lips for his answer.

“You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me. I don’t know why you need so much fuckin’ reassurance that you’re different from all those other damn extras.” That sentence sends you from angry to fuckin’ pissed in less than a second. 

You jab at his chest, practically screaming: “Excuse me? When we started dating, I was promised that you’d protect me from everything, including the media. Do you see the shit they say about me Katsuki? What they say about my body, my family, my upbringing? How they call me a slut and a whore because my Instagram has ‘Toshi on it and now I’ve been spotted with you? I can’t even visit my parents because I’m afraid they’ll follow me. I can’t go and see “Toshi because they’ll shit talk me even more! And you sit there and do nothing. Say nothing. All I want is for you to tell them the truth, that we are dating and that we are a couple.” 

Now, it’s Bakugo’s turn to bite back. “And I’m sayin’ my hands are tied. They know I’m with someone, and I lose  fans. Which means, I ain’t gonna beat that damn Deku at the rankings next month.”

“Fuck the rankings Bakugo! Can you get your head out of your ass for a second?! How in the world,” you turn to go to grab your phone, pulling up the latest headline about you on the tabloid’s website, “can you let them say this about me? Don’t you at least care that I’m being attacked on the daily?” Tears fall freely from your eyes now, and Bakugo flinches for a second, but only a second. You laugh in anger, turning away from him. “I already know the answer, Katsuki. You care more about the rankings than me. I’m in the way of your dream if you say I’m with you, so let me remove myself from the equation.” You grab a jacket, an umbrella and your phone, and put on your shoes. “It’s over Katsuki. I’m done. If you won’t say that we’re together, then we shouldn’t be together.” 

You turn to leave, and a part of you hopes that he’ll follow - that he’ll grab you and hold you tight and tell you that he loves you, loves you more than the stupid rankings and that he’ll stand by you no matter what the media says.

But he doesn’t. 

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You walk a couple of blocks to another apartment building, ring the doorbell and wait for the response to come from the other side. A deep voice responds, belonging to someone who had obviously been sleeping. “Who the hell is it?”

“‘Toshi, it’s me.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? It’s raining idiot, get in here.” The doors unlock and you make your way inside. You know this building like the back of your hand, it’s the home of your best friend and your second home. You make your way to his apartment and he’s waiting for you in the hallway - purple hair tousled and messy, body heavy with sleep and dark undereye circles accentuating violet eyes as he scratches the back of his neck. It’s a tic of his, one you know well - he’s nervous.

“A fight huh?” 

“Worse. I broke it off.” Shinsou immediately tenses at the mention of this, and if you weren’t so pissed and hurt by Bakugo you would’ve laughed. 

“Shit...I’m sorry. Come in, tell me all about it.” He steps aside and lets you into his apartment, closing the door as he prepares himself to listen to you complain until the sun rises. He agrees to help you get your things when you’re ready to return, and says you can crash at his place until you find somewhere else to stay.

You return two days later, punching in the code to the apartment you and Bakugo share - well, you supposed shared was the better word. It felt so foreign, being here after everything. Memories of the last two years flooded into your mind - lazy days where you spent all day with Katsuki on the couch doing nothing but watching horrible horror flicks and laughing the night away, those early mornings that had you waking up at five o’clock in the morning to cook pancakes while the sleepy blonde wraps his arms around your waist while teasing your culinary skills. Even the late nights when schoolwork kept you awake well into the twilight hours and your exhausted body dragged itself to the bed you and he shared, breathing in the caramel scent of the man you loved as your head hits the plush pillows and you drift off to sleep. But now, all of those memories have disappeared into the wind, replaced with the fight you and Bakugo had before you had stormed out of the house that night. He’s been texting you like mad, calling you like there is no tomorrow, but you ignore his calls. He never leaves a voicemail, so you don’t know what’s on his mind.  

As the beige door swung open, you breathed a sigh of relief that Katsuki wasn’t home. You had neither the heart nor the energy to see him after all that had happened and instead resolved yourself to get all of your things before his shift ended at his agency. You spent the next hour rounding up everything you owned - books, pictures, everything that you had room to take and that you knew you wouldn’t miss if you left it behind. When you had a breather you sent a quick text to Shinsou to let him know you were almost ready to go - and took a deep breath as you entered your bedroom. No, your former bedroom now. “That’s all it is now.” you remind yourself.

You start dumping all your clothes into trash bags and gather up pictures and toiletries that belong to you as you clean up the bedroom from one end to the other. As you grab a pile and place it on the bed, an article of clothing falls that you don’t recognize. You bend over and pick it up to inspect it closer. 

You know your clothes, all of them. But this lacy lingerie set that is discarded on the floor isn’t yours, hell, it isn’t even your size. Your throat feels like sandpaper and your nose crinkles as you drop the clothes as if burned by a flame. You can’t help but stare at it as a million things run through your mind at once: whose is it? How long has it been here? Was this before or after you and Katsuki broke up? Did he already move on? The last thought is something you know you shouldn’t dwell on, it isn’t your business what he does after you’re the one that ended the relationship. You know this and yet the tears come anyways, endless and stinging without end. Your legs give out and you fall to your knees clutching your heart as sobs fall from your lips, as your emotions bounce all over the place. The molten hot anger you felt at first is now transforming into deep sadness, all the bittersweet memories racing through your mind now replaced by images of Katsuki holding another woman, another lover just like he held you. You can’t stop as your brain formulates these what if situations - what if he was waiting for you to end it so he could be with her? You start to imagine him kissing another with the same passion he held for you. You see another in your place, eating the food that he insists on making to spoil you after a long night of homework, running their fingers through his hair as he falls asleep on their lap, and seeing another wrapped in his arms as they fall asleep together under the moonlit sky.

“I can’t stay here” you whisper to yourself, desperate to stop the tears that won’t end - desperate to feel anything but this pit of agony. You’ll take numbness over this endless heartbreak, this disappointment, this feeling of self-deprecation that tells you over and over that you weren’t good enough. “I-”

The door opens and you hear Shinsou’s voice behind you, calling your name and making his way through the hallway at the front of the apartment. “You didn’t answer my texts so I came up to check on you and-” The purple haired man freezes when he sees you, sitting on the floor with your head in your hands, sobbing uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears spill from your eyes dripping onto your fingers. You can no longer hold back your sobs as everything comes to a head - your insecurities, the hateful comments left on your social media, Katsuki’s own dismissal of your feelings as you two fought that night two days ago. Shinsou immediately drops to his knees in front of you, wrapping his arms around your frame and holding you close. “It’s okay...let it out.” You peer up at him from tear filled eyes, lunging at him to wrap your arms around his neck as you bury your face in his chest. 

“Hitoshi…” is all you’re able to say before another sob wracks your body, tears staining your cheeks and dampening Shinsou’s hoodie. You try desperately to explain why you’re crying, and why you’re so upset but you can’t find the words as your tongue feels heavy like a bunch of bricks. Indigo eyes drift to the underwear discarded behind you, anger seething in his veins as he puts two and two together. 

“Bakugo, you fucking tool.” He thinks to himself as he holds you, letting you cry out what you can’t tell him but he knows. He knows you better than anyone, just as you know him better than anyone. He remembers the vibrant little girl he met on the playground all those years ago, who spoke to him without a care even with his “villainous” quirk. He remembers your ecstatic scream as he calls you to let you know that he was able to get into the Hero Course at U.A, and he remembers you celebrating his acceptance at getting into a Hero Agency by getting blackout drunk and waking up with you in snuggled in his arms as you wear his favorite hoodie. He remembers being the one to introduce you to Bakugo at a Hero Ranking after party when you accompanied him as his plus one. He remembers how breathtaking you looked that night - an obsidian dress that hugged your figure closely, long legs accentuated by black stilettos and your plush lips painted in a ruby red hue. He remembers being the man of the hour, the hero Mindjack accompanied by a beauty on his arm, the envy of the venue. He remembers dancing with you, his most beloved childhood friend, his most precious person. He remembers watching you stride to the bar, smiling as you greet the bartender with glee and and he remembers watching you bump into Bakugo as you apologize quickly to the blonde before making your way back to him. He also remembers Bakugo following you to him, prompting him to introduce you to the man who would eventually become your boyfriend.

“If only you hadn’t bumped into him that night”, Shinsou thinks to himself, “Katsuki Bakugo, I’m going to give you a piece of my mind when I see you next.” How helpless he feels watching you cry as your heart shatters into a million pieces, how powerless he feels as he holds you tighter than he’s ever held anyone before. “C’mon, let’s get you home. I’ll take what I can and I’ll get the rest another day.” he smiles as he looks at you, giving you a small grin that he hopes makes you feel a bit better. “Don’t worry, I grabbed your Switch and your laptop, so the lazy girl hours can still happen” you punch him in the shoulder playfully as you wipe tears away on your sleeve, pouting as you roll your eyes at his lazy jokes before he continues, “and I’ll send Bakugo a text on what’s happening. You won’t have to deal with him. I promise.” It doesn’t escape his notice how you tense up when he says Bakugo, but the small smile you give at his joke makes him feel just a bit better. You stand up and press your lips to his forehead, tippy toeing to reach. “Thanks ‘Toshi. I really appreciate it, truly.” 

“Anything for my Animal Crossing buddy.” You cross your arms and give him a questioning look, eliciting a chuckle from the taller male. “I’m jus’ kiddin’. You know I’d do anything for you. And your Switch.” You laugh as you turn to grab your boxes and make your way to the front of the apartment, the lingerie that had shattered your world moments ago momentarily forgotten in the corner of you and Bakugo’s bedroom. “It’s only Bakugo’s now” you remind yourself as you walk out into the living room, “this place belongs to Bakugo only.” You take one last look at your home for the last ten months, and quickly turn on your heels to make your way to the elevator with your entire life packed into a few boxes. A small sense of regret lingers in you, but you quickly shove that aside to stop yourself from crying some more. Shinsou grabs the rest of the boxes left on the table, and places your key to the apartment on the counter next to a picture frame with the glass faced down. He then turns and follows you out the door to his car.

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The next few nights are the hardest - Shinsou’s apartment only has one bedroom, one bathroom and the living room which means you’re on the couch until you find your own place. You’ve known Shinsou since childhood and you wouldn’t mind sharing a bed but you’re so distraught from your discovery in Bakugo’s room that you want to be alone to cry it out if you need to - you already feel like a burden to Shinsou despite his protests against the idea. He’s not home tonight - on patrol around the city as you sit in the living room wrapped in a blanket and wearing his favorite hoodie. You flip through the channels and stumble across the Hero Rankings red carpet. It’s been ages since Hitoshi attended one, becoming more of an “underground hero” and avoiding the spotlight if possible. In fact, the only time he attended one was with you around the time you met Bakugo. You cringe at the thought of him, trying quickly to remove him from your mind. The rational part of your mind wants to change the channel, to watch those documentaries you love so much and wait until Shinsou gets back home but you don’t. Instead, you decide to remain on this channel, watching as heroes come and go on the red carpet with their dates and hear the host gush about each one’s accomplishments. This is torture, you know Bakugo will appear since he’s the number four Hero, you know he’ll be there and yet like a train wreck, you can’t look away. Maybe you’re curious as to what he’s up to, or maybe you want to see if he looks as miserable as you know you do. In any case, you wait with baited breath to see a pair of scarlet eyes and ash blonde hair to satiate your curiosity. A flash of green catches your attention and you see Izuku Midoriya appear on screen in front of you. Deku is the number three Hero and on his arm is his girlfriend Uraraka, another Hero ranked at number seven. You’ve met the both of them at parties you attend with Bakugo - they both received a lot of hate from “fans'' when they announced they were dating, but the love they exuded for each other made the media change their tune really fast. They truly adored one another and didn’t care if their ratings took a dive. You had wished Bakugo would do that for you, but you weren’t a Hero and you didn’t have an impressive quirk, so his agency decided that it would be better for his ratings if he kept you a secret and he agreed. At first, you didn’t mind but the comments on social media and the tabloids made you feel as if he wasn’t yours at all - instead all you felt was that he was ashamed of you. 

Then you see him. You grip the remote so hard it almost hurts, but you keep on looking anyway. There stands the number four Hero Katsuki Bakugo, wearing a red and black suit and looking as he always does - confident to the point of arrogance, a grumpy face that makes him unapproachable, arms crossed in annoyance. The cameras go off flash after flash, and the announcer goes over his stats - how many people he’s saved, his amount of solved cases, so on and so forth. You smile at his ranking, he’s gone from eleven to four in such a short amount of time, and you know he has his determination to thank for that. He works hard, that you can’t deny. 

Then you see her. You recognize her, from the tabloids and the makeup commercials. The Illusion Hero, Maboromicamie. She’s tall, beautiful, and has a gorgeous figure as well as a comfy place ranked as the number ten Hero. Her arm is linked with Bakugo’s, and he has an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close for the photoshoot. The announcer raises their voice in excitement, as a headline appears on your TV: “Dynamight and Maboromicamie an item? Seen together getting close at the awards ceremony!”

You shut off the TV and close your eyes. What were you expecting? Why did you do that? You can’t help the tears that escape, but they do. There you sit, alone in the apartment with the image of those two stuck in your head, burned into your memory. When Shinsou gets home, he says nothing and you’re grateful for it - you know he’s seen the ceremony and he knows you well enough to know that you’ve seen it too. Instead, he showers, lays down next to you, and holds you close as you cry quietly into his arms.

#bnha #bnha x fem!reader #shinsou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x you #hitoshi shinso x y/n #katsuki bakugo x y/n #bnha angst #mha x reader #my writing

[heartofsnark]

This is Love (Chapter Eight): Whispers of Wolves

Notes: Heyo, since A) I took a break and B) it’s friday the thirteenth, as it was when I posted the first chapter of this is love back in January, I decided to go ahead and post chapter 8 today. Chapter 9 is already done and I’ll be beginning work on chapter 10 soon, as this is my current hyper fixation. I hope you all enjoy. 

Word Count: 8671

Chapter Warnings: Oh boy we got some shit today my dudes! Stories/Reference of Past Child Abuse, Animal Death In the Context of Hunting, Homphobic Slurs/Homphobia towards lesbians, and referenced past anti-Semitism. Less important but there’s a pov change and like three different quotes in this chapter, from the Book of Joseph, and two different songs, which is probably a lot but I ain’t editing this shit anymore

For chapter one and the warnings about this fic’s overarching themes, please click here!

For the previous chapter; click here

Pain cracks through Joseph’s skull late that night, shooting across from each temple, seeming to split his head apart. He sits on the edge of his small bed, a modest bedroom in the back of his church. He knows what it means, he’s grown accustomed to the sharp ringing pain, visions always come with it. They’ve started to come more frequently since The Lamb arrived.

He grabs at his head, as if he could press hard enough to keep his skull together as pain racks him, an instinctual reaction. Pain strikes through and breaks the reality of the world around him, closed eyes starting to see visions of what could be, images of what may await him.

A world anew surrounds him; one changed by the Collapse and washed of sins. Lush and natural, even more beautiful than the world that came before it. Vibrant pink flowers decorate the earth, thick green moss covering trees. A soft pink flowered apple tree stands at the center of the compound, white buildings replaced with hand made little houses.

Men and women are all around, working around New Eden. Parents playing with their children, carrying their babies; loyal followers allowed to pass through the gates and grow their family. Some members bring back hunted animals to be prepared for meals and others tending to gardens.

And then he sees his brothers and sister.

A fact that changes time and time again as his visions come to him in waves. He’s seen New Eden with and without them. He’s seen each of his siblings die time and time again, old and young, premonitions of what will be or what could be.

In this version, this vision, he’s been allowed his siblings. Faith, Jacob, and John talk at a distance where Joseph can’t quite hear the words, only taken in the moment. Jacob and John’s ages showing more clearly in the gray just starting to pepper their hair.

A voice rises above all others, cutting through the mumbled conversation through the compound, and Joseph knows it’s calling towards him. The soft voice calls him a name similar in meaning to his title, but it cuts to his heart so differently.

“Papa!”

Through the eyes of his older self, he can only watch and take in what happens, no control as he turns to see the source.  A young boy of about five comes running towards Joseph, bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. Joseph’s body moves of it’s own volition reaching out to hug his son, his son, but before he can feel the embrace of his child the world cracks apart again.

Pain splinters through the world and rips him from the moment, when he opens his eyes again he’s back in his room. And his hands itch to hold his son who’s yet to exist, instead he rubs at his temples, fingers knotting in his own hair as he attempts to soothe the agony within his own head. The only respite being what he hopes is a new promise from his creator. A chance for his family to not only walk with him to New Eden, but the chance to expand it.

He’ll have a son. The very idea soothes his pain and is like a salve to frayed nerves. Becoming an internal mantra as he eases himself back to sleep that night.

 Sweat coats Dahlia’s skin as she does another push up, her muscles aching at the workout. She shifts to lay on her back on the living room floor, t-shirt riding up her sweaty stomach. Her second day of no work has turned into an impromptu work out, push up and using doorways for chin-ups. She uses her shirt to wipe sweat off her forehead before grabbing her phone to check the time. Dahlia must have gotten her way through the day, it has to be late by now.

“Fucking hell.”

It’s noon, it’s only fucking noon.

“Ahhhhhhhhhh!” She screams into a pillow, how the fuck is it only noon? Dahlia looks at the mess of her coffee table, trying to consider what to do just to eat at her time, she could draw again. But her hand is still cramping. She read somewhere you’re suppose to do warm up for drawing, she’ll have to start doing that.

Then she sees the Book of Joseph, her drawing still sticking out of it. She’s burned through her backlog of manga on her phone and fuck, it’s something to do. Joseph seemed like a genuinely sweet man, maybe he has something interesting to say.  Music still blasting, because everything in her life requires a soundtrack, she opens the book.

 “Bless the name of those who have dealt you blows.

Be grateful to those who have caused you harm.

For it is these sufferings that have led you to me.”

 The first sermon in the book, she chews her lip, it’s not that much different from things Joseph told her yesterday, that he’s thankful her past led her to him. But, something rubs her wrong about the idea of being grateful for her abuse. Not for her, she plans on dying mad about it. She reads onward, an illustration of a flaming capital building surrounded by waves with someone drowning in the foreground. That’s…dramatic.

“If a person had been walking down the poorly maintained road out front of the Seed’s house on that afternoon in June and felt the strange urge to glance over, they would have witnessed a bizarre sight.

They would have seen a man dress in black pants and a white undershirt, frothing with anger, brandishing a comic book in one hand and a bible in the other at his son, a child of about ten. But no one had been down this in the poor suburb of Rome, Georgia, in a long time. Not ice cream trucks, not social service cars, not even police patrols.”

Dahlia stops almost three pages in as Joseph begins to write about a dying widow who once gave him and Jacob cakes before she grew sick. The picture he’s painted is far too clear and hits too close to home for her to continue, at least for the moment. A belligerent bible thumping drunk of a father who derided Joseph for loving Spiderman comics and beat Jacob’s back for the younger brother’s supposed misgivings.

Father Monroe, her stepfather, wasn’t quite the ruddy faced sloppy drunk that Old Man Seed was. But when Joseph describes Jacob offering his back up for a beating, she nearly feels the bite of leather against her own. Stripes for the backs of fools, is all she hears.

She wants to talk to Joseph, she realizes, thinking of both the beginning sermon passage and how their own pasts match up. Does he really bless the man who hurt him? Is he grateful for Old Man Seed? Maybe that kind of forgiveness and peace with it comes with age or is it just him? Ruth has a similar story as well, a little older than Dahlia, and she holds on to the same anger Dahlia does. Has Joseph managed to let it go? Does he still like Spiderman? Did his father beat the passion for comic books out of him or does he still enjoy them? Its hard to imagine, the intense Joseph Seed casually reading a comic book.

Less than three pages is a pathetic excuse for reading and didn’t pass much time, but it’s intense for her. So, she’d rather just…stare at the wall for a bit until she’s ready to tackle it again.

It’s Saturday night, Pratt and Hudson won’t be going to The Spread Eagle tonight, because no work. Meaning a rather mundane day with no interruptions. Other than a short walk, Dahlia spends the rest of it fucking around on her phone and watching shitty tv; passing out after downing an unevenly heated microwave meal.

Sunday morning rolls around, spent much like the last, Dahlia using her down time and excess energy to work out. It’s important to stay on top of exercising and staying in shape, given her profession, she makes a mental note to order some weights online. There’s not really a proper gym in the county and she doesn’t want to lose muscle.

She’s in the middle of another round of pushups when there’s a knock at her door; she jumps up from her position, skin still slick with sweat as she rushes towards the door. Finally, something to disrupt the monotony.

It’s Pratt standing on her porch, hazel eyes looking her over. She’s expecting a shitty comment on her appearance, dressed in shorts and a baggy shirt, hair mussed with sweat.

“You need something?” She asks him, slightly out of breath. Dahlia lifts the bottom of her shirt, using it to wipe sweat from her face, breeze skimming the bare skin of her stomach.

“What the hell has you sweating, Rook?” The older deputy chews his lip, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

“I was working out.”

“With a head injury? Seriously?”

“The fuck else am I suppose to do?”

“Figured you’d be bored out of your mind, reason I’m here,” he grins, “throw some clothes on and we can head out.”

“You mind if I shower first?” She asks, while she’s not sure where he plans on dragging her but she’d rather not stink like sweat while she’s there.

“Uh, yeah, sure that’s fine.”

“You wanna wait in here?”

He nods and Dahlia steps aside to let Pratt into her trailer, it’s not the most tidy of place because, well, she’s not the most tidy of people. She can feel the judgement starting to build up as Pratt looks around her messy living room. A pillow and blanket haphazardly on the couch; her duffle bag on the ground with clothes falling out of it. Her table has her sketchbook, thankfully closed, and the Book of Joseph is tucked under it. It’s a messy little nest, but it’s hers.

“Are you sleeping on your couch?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s just, I prefer it,” she explains with a shrug, not really sure how to elaborate on her weird feeling about sleeping in a bed.

“You have a bed, right?”

“Yes, I have a bed, I just, shut up. I don’t barge into your house and start judging how you live,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “just sit down, I’ll be back in a minute.”

Dahlia grabs a change of clothes, hearing the couch springs creak as Pratt sits down. It’s weird seeing someone in her trailer. The closest she’s had to visitors have stayed on her porch. Pratt is the first person to be in her actual trailer, he looks immensely out of place and judging by his eyes glancing around, he seems to feel that way too. She tries not to think too hard about it, making a beeline to her bathroom.

She tries to keep her shower short, not wanting to make Pratt wait too long and not wanting him to snoop while he’s left alone. That doesn’t stop her from playing music as she showers, just limiting herself to two songs before she jumps out. A quick dry off and she tugs on her clothes, towel still on her damp hair as she walks back out to her living room.

Pratt, sure enough, has found something to snoop through. Dahlia grimaces at the sight of him picking through her little jewelry box of photos. Was he rifling through her dufflebag? She clears her throat, smirking when he jumps up.

“I was just-”

“Snooping,” she cuts him off, ruffling the towel over her hair.

“It fell out of your bag.”

“No it didn’t.”

“It did...after I kicked it a little, but it did fall out.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she snatches the little wooden box off the table, Lloyd and Caroline’s photo booklet was on top, so at least she probably avoided him seeing baby photos.

“You, uh, don’t look much like your parents. You adopted or something?”

She can’t help but chuckle as she puts it away; she can’t blame him for thinking Lloyd and Caroline must be her parents. The pair are both about Whitehorse’s age and why else would she have so many photos with a couple that age. But, the couple absolutely look nothing like her. Both fairer skinned and blue eyed; Lloyd with dark strawberry blonde hair and Caroline with light honey blonde locks. Short of some shenanigans the chance of them producing an olive skinned, brown eyed brunette is slim. And while the couple have their share of adopted children; Dahlia isn’t one of them.

“No.”

“Oh, uh…” She can nearly see the gears turning in Pratt’s head,  her usual one word style of answering has put Caroline’s devotion in question and Dahlia won’t have that.

“They’re not my parents; legally or biologically.”

“Oh, you just hang out with old couples?”

“Maybe, maybe not, ain’t really any of your business,” she shrugs, “more importantly, where the hell are we supposed to be going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t trust your surprises.”

“Would you rather sit here and twiddle your thumbs all day?”

“Fuck  no.”

“That’s what I thought, you ready to go then?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she throws the damp towel onto her laundry chair before shoving her feet into her boots, “lets get going.”

She locks up behind Pratt then follows him out to his car. Compared to the last time she was in his car, this is infinitely more relaxing. She hums along to the radio, resisting the urge to sing along. He probably already heard her yelling along to her music in the shower, she doesn’t need to blast his eardrums at close range. After one song ends and another shittier one begins she starts to fiddle with the radio setting.

“The driver is supposed to pick the music,” Pratt tells her as she flips through stations, trying to find a station playing something other than country.

“The driver needs to worry about the road, while I find something worth listening to.”

“Yeah, ‘cause your taste in music is so good.”

“I have excellent taste in music,” she turns to one station and it sounds like a choir.

Help me, Faith

Help me, Faith

Shield me from sorrow

From fear of tomorrow

“Turn that crap off, right now.”

“The hell is that?” It’s not a bad song like technically speaking, but it’s definitely a bit much.

“Peggie station, it's all crap, Eden’s Gate runs it. It’s all their choir music and sermons.”

“Gross, but the song ain’t that bad.”

“You might wanna have your head checked again.”

“Piss off.”

She finds something better, even if she doesn’t necessarily mind Eden’s Gate music, she’d rather listen to something without fear of a sermon coming up after. At the very least, Pratt doesn’t complain about her choice, a few more songs playing before they cross into Holland Valley.

“How’s your impromptu vacation been going?”

“Boring.”

“That’s what I thought,” he laughs, “figured you’d be going stir crazy by now.”

“So, you decided to come end my boredom?”

“No need to sound so excited,” Pratt rolls his eyes, not appreciating her lackluster response.

“Sorry, I, uh, do appreciate it,” she admits, looking out the windows, cheeks warming at it. It’s embarrassing to say that she is genuinely thankful. Hell she nearly jumped up and ran to the door like a dog when he knocked. Boredom is hell.

“Oh, it’s fine, I was bored too.”

They pull into the police station parking lot and she raises an eyebrow at him as he parks. He’s taken her to work? What on earth is he planning?

“Don’t look at me like that, you’re gonna enjoy this, c’mon.”

She follows him out and around the building to the helipad she noticed before, a black police grade helicopter on it.  He doesn’t hesitate to climb into the pilot's seat, telling her to get in. She listens, climbing into the seat next to him. It looks like a mess of buttons and controls to her, none of them making sense. But Pratt confidently starts turning switches, lights coming to life in front of her.  They’re going for a helicopter ride, holy shit.

“Pffft,” Pratt huffs out a laugh, “we’re not even in the air yet and you’re already grinning.”

“This is okay, right? Like, no one will mind.”

“I’m the only person at the station who can fly, so if they needed it, they’d be calling me anyway. Don’t worry.”

“I’m fine, I just wanted to know I can enjoy this guilt free.”

“And lift off,” Pratt says as he brings the chopper up off of the ground. The station grows smaller and smaller as they ascend up into the air.

“Wow…” Is all as can seem to say at first as the chopper kisses the sky.

They’re surrounded by a bright blue sky and puffy white clouds as Pratt flies across the county. Lush green forests and farms beneath them, mountains along the edges of the county. A top down view of animals running through, specks in their vision. She oohs and awes, unable to help acting like an excited child over the view. They fly along the county, Pratt is kind enough to answer her stupid questions about flying, what buttons and switches mean. She’s certain to a seasoned pilot her naïve question must be frustrating, but he grins with every answer. Before she knows it the sky around them has shifted to an awash of pinks and purples, the sun setting, before a midnight sky takes it place. Brilliant stars twinkling around them, feeling so close, like she could reach out and touch Andromeda.

Once it gets too late, Pratt lands back at the station, her cheeks ache from all the time smiling. He drives her back to the trailer park, the pair in comfortable silence as she hums along to the radio.  Her thoughts drifting off as they are so quick to do. Pratt and her butted heads a bit when they first met, but he’s quickly become her closest friend in the county. Their light-hearted bickering and shenanigans have become her favorite part of her days in Hope County.

He walks with her to her trailer, shoulders brushing occasionally as they move. She turns to look at him when they reach her door. Dahlia clenches and unclenches her hands searching for what she wants to say.

“Thanks, a lot, really.”

“You like flying that much?”

“Not just for that, not to be all mushy and crap, but coming out here, keeping me from going nuts, being my friend. It, uh, means a lot, seriously.”

“Eh,” he scratches at the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes, “just watching out for you, probie.”

“Well, I appreciate it, I, uh, know I’m not the easiest person to get along with.”

“No one in this county is.”

“Good to know I fit in, I guess.”

“Uhh, you’re getting there, once you start stinking like beer all day and have a house full of deer heads, we’ll call it good.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she grins, “night.”

“Night.” She waves Pratt off before going back to her trailer to settle in for the night.

Monday is spent showing up to the station just to play with Petunia behind the building; just laying on the ground while the fluffy opossum crawls on her. She scratches along the marsupial’s back as they nuzzle into her neck.

“Aren’t you supposed to be home relaxing or something?” Beau asks and Dahlia shifts her head back to look at him.

“I am relaxing, what are you doing?”

“Well, everyone asked me to go see what that weirdo deputy was doing, so here I am.”

“Oh no, you hear that Petunia,” she looks at her opossum friend, “people think I’m weird.”

“Yeah, talk to the ‘possum, that’ll really show ‘em.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and he just rolls his eyes, leaving her alone for the moment. Pratt and Hudson invite her out to The Spread Eagle once the sun starts to set, but a steady throbbing ache has built in her head, she skipped pain meds. And the idea of the jukebox booming in her skull makes her turn it down for the night, once she’s back to work she’ll treat them to a meal there, she decides on the quiet ride home.

Dahlia wakes up the next day and decides to finally take that hike, wanting to explore some of the mountains and woods that surround the county. The brunt of the trails seem to be within the Whitetail Mountain area up north, the mountains in the Henbane are mostly around that statue and as much as she likes Joseph more than before; the statue is still creepy.

She tucks her sketchpad, pencils, water, and her pain meds in the storage under her motorcycle seat before she drives up to the mountains; the north section of the county is colder, a chill from the air as she rides up. She stops in at an Old Sun Outfitters, buying a little black backpack to carry her stuff in when she hikes.

The woods around her get thicker and thicker as rides further into the mountains, land growing steeper with every minute, civilization sparser and sparser; buildings harder to find, just peeks of wood or cement through trees. The trees clear on her right as a turn of the road leads her to a large parking lot with little hutch and a sign that says, ‘rest area’. The hutch says Valley View Overlook. It’s built at the top of a plateaued piece of land, not as towering as the mountains in the distance, but higher than the meager hills of the valley or river. She parks her motorcycle and packs the bag before taking in the view.

A small navel high fence, she imagines waist high for others, keep animals or children from just running off the side of the mountain. It’s a beautiful sight; she can see why the lot is named after it. She takes a deep breath of fresh mountain air looking out at the soft blue sky that meets the mountains in the horizon; the deep green forests further down. Air so clean and refreshing, but for some reason she finds herself pulling out a cigarette, to fill her lungs with smoke. Too much good needs a bad, she supposes. She watches the white clouds and birds flying through, as she lets smoke settle heavy in her lungs, only parting from the sight when her cigarette threatens to burn her fingers.

She follows along a little beaten trail through the woods, kicking up rocks and crushing grass underfoot as she lets the trees surround her. Grass rustles around where animals sneak through; deer running through, other hikers crossing her path, and hunters packing bucks back home with dogs sniffing along after them.

It doesn’t take long for her to go off the path, just walking in any direction that catches her interest. Deeper and deeper into the woods, following divots and drop offs, walking along the occasional stream of water that passes through the area.  Her feet and head start to ache as hours pass, the cool air no longer able to chill her body as exertion coats her skin in sweat.

A hunting stand, one of many, is within the woods. Gray metal built around a tree with a ladder leading up. It’s empty, but if a hunter really needs it, she’ll move along. She climbs up curling her legs under her on the stand as she pulls off her back pack and red flannel, the sleeves now sweaty after her walk. Dahlia ties it around her waist, feeling the cool air on her skin as she takes a deep breath.

She takes a deep swig of water and one of the pain killers. There’s a crush of grass and she looks up to see a group of deer a short distance from the stand. A fawn and what may be younger deer, with a buck among them. The buck’s fur grayer in color than the richer warmer brown of the others. Dahlia gets out her sketchpad and pencils, balancing them on her knee as she takes the drawing the creatures. A calm energy and flow falls over her as she draws, the only sound the animals rustling within the woods. She’s better at drawing people than animals, she realizes, when she can’t quite get the right slope of the buck’s muzzle, but she doesn’t stress herself over it. No one will ever see her wonky deer. She looks up; the buck has gotten much closer, shuffling near the stand.

Dahlia puts her sketchbook aside, half finished wonky deer abandoned, as she moves to lay on her belly over the edge of the hunter’s stand. She stretches her hand out, his antlers high enough for her fingers to just brush the velvety texture. But that’s not what she’s after, wanting to pet the stags head. Dahlia shifts to a knee and a foot, she forces the fingers of one hand into the grating to keep a solid grip on the stand. She leverages herself to lean further and further out, stretching a hand out and nearly hanging completely off the stand. Her fingers just centimeters away from touching the stag’s head.

The fuzz of fur brushes across her fingers and the soft brown eyes looking up at her go blank; blood spraying from the side of the buck’s head as it’s body goes limp to the ground. She can’t help but jump back and fall on her ass; gasping at the now dead deer in front of the stand, the rest of them have scattered at the sight.

Maybe she should have expected it, being in hunter territory, but the closeness of it still startles her. There’s a heavy thud of boots, steady consistent footfalls crushing branches and grass beneath them. Ginger hair with shaved down sides and an army jacket; Jacob Seed.

This is likely the only time she’ll ever be taller than him, watching him from the stand as he shifts a bright red rifle from his hands to on his back. It seems so vivid and ostentatious compared to his utilitarian style of dress.  There’s a childish urge to jump on his back and scare him. But, they don’t know each other well and he’s a veteran, so she can’t know how he’d react to the sort of thing. Maybe a boo would be okay, just something small?

“You enjoying the show, honey?”

Dahlia jolts, taken aback by the sudden acknowledgment. She tucks a strand of hair back behind her ear and chews her lip watching as he starts to gather up the slain deer; then he looks up at her, blue eyes sharp and harsh. All the masculine Seeds have blue eyes and intense stares; but Jacob’s gaze is colder than Joseph’s and more steady than John’s. Something almost predatory to it. 

“I was drawing him,” she says after a moment, looking down at the stag. 

“And I was hunting him.” 

“Still would have appreciated another minute or two,” she says as she grabs her bag, throwing the sketchbook back inside before she jumps off the stand. 

“So, you could flail around and try to pet him for another five minutes.” 

“Hey,” she pouts, she was caught hanging from a hunting stand like the child she is, but, “wait, you saw me?”

He gives a vague grumble of agreeance, more preoccupied with tying up the hooves of his latest hunt to make it easier to carry. 

“And you still shot? You could have shot my hand off.” Has this man never taken a gun safety course, she catches a glimpse of the scope on his rifle, there’s no way he didn’t see how close his shot was to her hand. He chuckles, dry and deep, mocking her. 

“Relax, if I wanted to shoot you, you’d be dead by now.” 

“Wow, that’s not comforting.” 

“Wasn’t trying to be,” he says, standing up and packing the giant deer over his shoulder, like it’s nothing.  

Dahlia reaches out to touch it, fingers brushing through soft fur, no warmth beneath it. She might as well be petting a rug. Jacob starts to walk off and she doesn’t know why, but she follows him. Hands clasped behind her back and walking heel to toe after him. Maybe it’s just because she’s curious about him. He’s the only one of the Seeds not to take a strange interest in her for whatever reason. 

He doesn’t say anything at first, allowing her to follow along after him. Leaves and grass crush under foot as she follows along behind him, curious as to where he’s going or doing. She’s not sure what she expects, but it’s something to do if nothing else. 

“You got somewhere to be?” 

“Not really, no.” She tries to crane her head around, trying to get a better look at his face to gauge his reaction, but their height difference is too big to truly do so. The man has to be around a foot and a half taller than her; he seems even taller than the sheriff.

“Well, I do, so get out of here.” Her smirk drops, she was hoping to see him get more agitated like the youngest Seed brother, but his voice doesn’t rise. Staying the same steady deep timbre.

“Where are you going?” 

“Nowhere you need to be, sweetheart.”

“The nicknames aren’t really necessary.” She can’t help but say, wrinkling her nose in annoyance, the condescending way he calls her sweetheart and honey make her nauseous.

 “Neither is following me like a lost puppy dog; but here you are.” 

“I’m bored.”

“Not my problem.”

“You killed my only entertainment, so it is now.”

He comes to a sudden stop and Dahlia has to stop herself from running into his back; she doesn’t particularly want deer corpse on her face. He turns to face her; expression still the same stern look he usually carries, and she misses his grin when he was talking to kids at the barbecue.

“Look here, deputy, sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and irritating me isn’t a habit you want to form. Get out of here.”

“Oh no,” she rolls her eyes, “I’m really scared.”

“Keep pushing, sweetheart, won’t get you anywhere.”

“God, you’re no fun.”

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

“Jacob is something wrong,” a voice cuts through their conversation, rough and masculine. And Dahlia see the long-haired man and short haired girl from the barbecue; the ones who shot her dirty looks when she talked back to Jacob.

“Nothing you need to concern yourselves with.”

“What are you doing here?” The woman asks Dahlia directly.

“Standing.”

“Fallon,” Jacob says the woman’s name, stern tone making her posture snap straighter, “I said it’s none of your concern. Let’s go.”

The three of them start to leave down a path; Fallon and the long-haired man have heavy bucks they pack as well. A hunting trip for Jacob and his…friends? Are they friends? That didn’t seem like friendship, but Dahlia is far from an expert on the matter. She offers a goodbye wave; but Fallon just rolls her eyes. Their steady footfalls leaving the deputy behind.

Well, it staved off the boredom for a while she supposes.

Dahlia lets out a huffy sigh, blowing loose strands of hair from her face as she begins back down the path she came. The sun is setting by the time she’s back to the parking lot and climbing on top of her bike.

Her stomach is growling by the time she’s driving down a main road, she sees the sign for The Grill Steak as she reaches the intersection. Dahlia pulls in, letting her stomach guide her actions, as she’s one to do.

It’s a small restaurant packed with groups of people from friends to families; she can feel the heat of the grill radiating through, the smell of her making her stomach growl. She settles into a booth by herself, when she reads through it the menu is full of gamey meat burgers and steaks. No signs of beef or pork; it’s all bison and deer. She wonders if the cook hunts everything himself, it wouldn’t surprise her, given what she’s seen of the county. He can hear the cook yelling something she can’t understand from the kitchen. Dahlia settles on ordering a cola and a deer burger; thinking about the hunted stag she saw Jacob kill.  

As she waits on her food, the chatter of a group catches her ear. They’re not from Hope County; the different cadences of how they speak mingled with fancy latin technical terms tells her as much. Trying to be discreet; she glances at them over her shoulder. A group of four; two women and two men all around the same age. Dahlia’s not the brightest bulb in the pack by her own admission, but when she hears the words corvids and lupine, she realizes they’re talking about animals. It doesn’t shock her, given the abundance of wildlife in the county, certainly people would come to research them. 

The door to the restaurant swings open and a man comes walking in, shoulders back and footfalls confident. It reminds her clearly of Jacob, the walk of a soldier, though this man isn’t quite as intimidating a figure. Older than Dahlia, though most people are, with a full dark beard and long scraggly dark hair. He doesn’t bother to take a seat at a booth or look at a menu, only giving a single wave to the cook in the back as he makes a beeline to the group. Dahlia shifts a little further down into her booth, not that anyone could truly tell she’s eavesdropping, but it gives a little more secrecy to it. 

 “You the conservationists?” 

 “Yeah, we’re studying the wildlife here… And you are?” 

“Eli, not here to ‘cause trouble or anything like that, just wanted to give some friendly advice.” 

“Friendly advice?” 

“You need to watch yourselves out in those woods.”

“Pffft.” 

“We’re well aware of how dangerous the wildlife out here can be. You-” 

“No, you aren’t. There’s wolves-”

“And bears and mountain lions, oh my,” one of them jokes, “look, we know what we’re doing.” 

“You’re not listening, they’re not regular wolves. They’ve been trained to kill and hunt people down on sight. Even if you avoid ‘em, you get on the cult’s bad side and they’ll send ‘em after you. You gotta be careful out here.” 

“Okay, sure,” the eyeroll is nearly audible, “we’ll keep an eye out for killer cult wolves, don’t worry.” 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, alright.” 

The man, Eli walks away, and Dahlia considers stopping him. Admitting her nosiness and ask him some of the million questions going through her mind. Surely by cult, he means Eden’s Gate, right? Dahlia can’t imagine who else he could mean. They’re small and close knit, but they’re not a cult, right? Cults imply something more out there or intense; they’re just a little Christian church. Joseph may have his own book, but they still follow Christian ideas of sins and scripture.

And wolves? How could they possibly be training wolves? It’s all so ridiculous and asinine, making gears spin and churn in her head until they overheat, but it was said with such conviction. By the time she brings herself to make a noise, Eli has already left, and it’s probably for the best. It’s too crazy to be true. Maybe he’s a tinfoil hat wearing type of guy, a conspiracy theorist like the Zip guy who leaves a newsletter in every damn corner of the county, screaming about chemtrails and baby farms.

She fills her stomach, deciding to leave that as it is, finally returning to her trailer late that night. A restless night of sleep with images of wolves and deer creeping around through her brain, nothing concrete enough to latch onto, but enough to unsettle.

A boring morning leads into a boring afternoon, time blurring before the sun has set and Dahlia’s finding herself pulling up to The Spread Eagle to catch her coworkers after their shift. She’s popped enough pain killers that the throb of music and noise is welcomed instead of irritating. A smile already gracing her lips when she catches Pratt and Hudson shooting the shit in the bar’s lowlight. As she sneaks up closer to them, their conversation starts to be audible over the tunes playing through the bar.

“I bet you break before then,” Hudson says, a teasing grin directed at Pratt.

“Hey, it’s only six months.”

“Please, you’re weak and you know it.”

“How much you wanna bet?”

Dahlia strikes, throwing her arms over Pratt’s shoulders, effectively hugging him from behind and leaning her weight into him. He’s warm and Dahlia can’t fight the impulse to squeeze him a little tighter. She breathes in the faint smell of coffee and cologne that still cling to him; comforting after so much time spent around him.

“Jesus fuck, when’d you get here?” Pratt blusters and at this close of a range Dahlia can see his cheeks pinkening under the scruff of his beard. Does this bother him?

“Right now.”

“You decided to come hang out again?” Hudson asks, grinning at the flustered Pratt.

“Mmhmm,” Dahlia hums into Pratt’s shoulder, pressing her face into him, “bored.”

“Get off me,” he grumbles and reaches back to swat at her hip.

“Ugh, buzzkill,” she bitches as she detaches from Pratt and climbs onto a bar stool, “so what the hell are you guys making bets about?”

Pratt coughs, trying to dislodge something from his throat, and Hudson laughs, “yeah, Pratt why don’t you tell her about our bet?”

“Don’t worry about it, Rook.”

“We still need to set an amount.”

“Fifty,” Pratt suggests and Dahlia wants to know even more what the hell they’re making bets about.

“Mmm, hundred.”

“Fine, if you’re comfortable losing that much.”

“Anyone gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope.”

“Well, that’s gonna drive me crazy now, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and orders food, stuffing her face as she listens to her coworkers fill her in on anything of interest she’s missed during her off time. It’s not much, as usual, the workload in Hope County is pretty low stakes. Hunting violations, speeding tickets, and the like. Seems like her assault is about the most interesting case in a while. Dahlia’s tempted to ask if they know anything about wolf attacks but bites her tongue before she does. Hope County is filled with wildlife, wolf attacks have no doubt occurred to some degree and if she mentions the idea of trained cult wolves, they might start to think she’s buying into the conspiracy shit.

“Stop,” Pratt says suddenly, putting hand on Dahlia’s knee, “you’re shaking the whole damn bar.”

Her leg she realizes has been bouncing the whole time, the hike helped, workouts help, but she’s still breaming with pent up energy. There’s a rustle of movement and Dahlia is drawn to the open floor near the jukebox, she’s seen a few people dance here and there, a couple now and again swaying to softer tunes while she’s been here. But, it’s more crowded tonight, people laughing and dancing together.

“People are dancing,” she states the obvious.

“It’s ladies’ night, women drink free, so everyone’s extra, uh, energetic tonight,” Hudson tells her.

An upbeat song starts and Dahlia’s up in the next breath, she needs to move, burn off excess energy. And while her favorite club in Lake Charles isn’t exactly available to her anymore, she’ll jump at the chance to lose herself in a song.

You should be wilder, you're no fun at all.

Dahlia’s singing along as she sways and shifts through the crowd, body moving instinctually to the beat. There’s a woman about Dahlia’s age, long blonde hair and brown eyes, dancing as well and the deputy finds herself gravitating towards her.

Yeah, thanks for the input.

Thanks for the call.

She asks low into the woman’s ear, so she can be heard over the music, if she can dance with her. The response is a smile, lighting up the girl’s face, a nod of her head and then she’s pulling Dahlia in by the hips.

With dull knives and white hands

The blood of a stone

Cold to the touch, right

Right down to the bone

And then she loses herself in it. In the music that fills the bar, the feeling of a stranger touching her, the slide of her feet as she moves,  the way hips knock together, the scratch in her throat as she sings lyrics in the woman’s ear, their grins as they laugh and bump noses together. It’s fun and it’s silly, a reason to move and forget life for a moment.

Cause you give me the electric twist and it kicks and it kicks like a pony.

And true, you might run away with it, it's a risk it's a risk yeah.

Because it kicks yeah.

It really kicks yeah.

Dahlia spins the woman with a laugh, before pulling the woman close against her again, wide smiles and bright eyes as their foreheads touch. There’s sweat sticking to their skin as the song winds down. Panted breaths ghosting over each other’s faces as they come down from exertion.

And the touch of your lips it's a shock not a kiss

It's electric twist, it's electric twist

“How much I gotta pay to see you kiss?!” A loud voice booms out, making Dahlia and her dance partner of the night separate. There’s a man, couldn’t be older than his mid twenties, sitting at the bar with his legs sprawled open drinking a beer at the table between the bar and the dance area. His eyes linger and look over both women’s bodies

“Can I help you?” Dahlia asks and furrows her brows, glowering at the man as she draws closer.

“Oh just enjoying the show, sweetheart.”

“Not your sweetheart and I’m not a damn show.”

“Pfff, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he turns back to his table and rolls his eyes, as if Dahlia’s the problem, “fucking dykes.”

The junior deputy grits her teeth and she sees from her peripheral the woman rubbing the back of her neck, letting her bangs fall into her face looking like she’d rather disappear.

“The fuck did you call us?” She can’t stop herself from speaking, barely managing to reign her anger in enough not do something worse.

“You heard me.”

“Fuck you!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Pratt’s voice cuts through as the man starts to turn to retort, the warmth of her coworker’s hand wraps around the clenched fist she didn’t realize she had raised.

“Is something wrong?” Mary May calls out, starting to walk out from behind the bar.

“Everything’s fine,” Pratt responds before Dahlia can say anything and when she starts to speak, he looks at her to whisper, “you’re barely three weeks into your job, you really wanna be getting into bar fights?”

“He ca-”

“I heard what he said, Rook, but it ain’t worth your job.”

“You’re right,” she gnaws on her lip and looks down on the ground, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I get it, I just don’t want you doing anything stupid.”

“I need some fresh air.”

Dahlia leaves The Spread Eagle, noticing the woman she danced with has already vanished, unwilling to deal with the bullshit. A cool breezes ghosts over her sweaty skin as she sits down on the porch steps at the front of the bar; running her hands through her hair as she fights to ease her nerves. She digs a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket

There’s a crush of footsteps as she lights one, bringing it to her lips, shiny black leather boots entering her vision.

“Dep-yoo-tee.”

“You Seeds can just smell when I’m sad, can’t you?” She teases looking up to see John, the neon bar sign setting his face aglow in the night as he chuckles at her.

“Not my intention, but if you’re in need of a talk, I’d be happy to oblige.”

“You weren’t coming out here to harass Mary May again, were you?”

“Deputy,” he puts his hand to his chest cartoonishly dramatic in his hurt, “h-harassment? That’s ridiculous. am I not allowed to visit with Ms. Fairgrave and just discuss our difference of opinions.”

His voice is ramping up in pitch as he defends himself and Dahlia can’t help but smile, appreciating the distraction from her own troubles.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mary May would have a different of opinion about that one. We still gotta talk about members stealing booze.”

“Our members would do no such thing; and I assure you, if there’s any harassment here, we’re the victims. We’ve been insulted, had our sermons interrupted, our practices mocked, Mary May herself once showed up our church simply to cause trouble.”

“Okay, okay, it’s a two-way street, I get it. Sit, we can chat for a bit,” she pats the section of porch step beside her and reluctantly after a beat of silence, he sits down, “so, Mary May caused trouble for you guys?”

“Yes, yes, she has and she’s not the only one; the people of this county have persecuted me and my family since we’ve been here.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, no one should mistreat you that way,” she looks him in the eye as she speaks, “and if it ever happens again, I want you to call down to the station, ask for me, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

“Well, it’s certainly nice to know you’re on our side.”

“Ah, ah, I’m on everyone’s side. Mary May is owed the same respect as you and your family; and if you cause issues for her, I won’t hesitate to intervene for her sake as well. I’m here to keep everyone safe. Got to treat everyone like you wanna be treated, the whole spiel.”

“I know you’re not preaching biblical principles to me, dep-yoo-tee.”

“Not biblical, just a little maturity.”

“Are you implying I’m immature.“

“You’re a grown man spatting with a woman ten or more years younger than you; throwing a tantrum and pointing fingers when you’re told to behave.”

“First of all, I’m not that old,” Dahlia raises an eyebrow at him, “don’t look at me like that, I’m 32. Secondly, I am not a child. Mary May has-“

“And if she does something again, now that I’m here, let me know and I will help. But her actions don’t justify yours.”

“Fine, I’ll be sure to hold you to that promise, then.”

“I mean it’s less a promise and more so doing my job, but alright.”

She breathes out a plume of smoke, making sure to aim away from John’s face, his blue eyes track the movement and the nicotine fumes that escape into the air. An ex-smoker, she deems as she watches him staring at her lips and the cigarette between her fingers.

“You want a smoke?” She asks, offering her pack of cigarettes.

“Smoking is forbidden in Eden’s Gate.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Tattooed fingers pick out a cigarette and she lights it for him with a grin, watching him take a deep inhale and blowing out the smoke that fills his lungs. The soft rise of his chest and the gray clouds that billow out from parted lips. She notices for the first time the freckles on his neck and chest, shirt unbuttoned low enough to expose them. There’s thin fresh scratches along his hands and forearms, too superficial and fresh to match the deeper worn in scars, they look like cat scratches. And yeah, he seems like a cat guy.

“So, now that you’ve berated and tempted me, deputy,” he speaks after an exhale of smoke, “why were you out here pouting?”

“BREH!” She plops her back down on the porch with a vague animal long groan and throws her arms over her eyes, cigarette still between two fingers, must he remind of her own issues.

“Well that certainly wasn’t immature or dramatic.”

And she laughs, because he’s right, she can preach maturity all she wants to him. But, she’s still a brat herself. She’d justify herself with their massive age difference, because no way he’s thirty-two, but that feels flimsy at best. They’re both just two temper tantrum throwing children, hell they’re even both fibbing about their ages. Though, she suspects his own much more severe than the few months she adds to her own.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

“You know,” he lays back on the porch, matching her position, “I take the confessions for our church, if there’s anything you need to get off your chest, I’m the man to talk to.”

“Not much to say; guy called me a slur, I nearly throttled him.”

“Someone else’s actions don’t justify your own,” he parrots her words back to her.

“Yeah, someday I’ll follow my own advice.”

“Has that happened before?”

The gears in her brain churn, she’s been called many a thing, but her sexuality has been one of the less insulted facets of who she is.

Her stepfather, as religious as he was, was adamant on his hatred of gay people. But her own disinterest in exploring her sexuality or romance saved her from his scorn in that area, his focus more on the other various things he found deplorable about her.

Her mother’s side is Ashkenazi Jewish, and Dahlia remembers the few people of her stepfather’s church who despite her mother converting were disgusted their preacher would marry a Jewish woman. A handful leaving the church, a few sticking by just to call Dahlia and her mother slurs when their backs were turned.

The nightclub she favored in Louisiana was considered a gay bar, though not exclusive to LGBT folks. Women dancing with women, men dancing with men, men and women dancing; and a healthy amount of people who didn’t quite fit either label. Only one-night sticks out, a car speeding past the line outside the bar just to scream a slur out the window.  

Maybe what bothered her most was the boldness. This wasn’t someone whispering when they thought Dahlia couldn’t hear, and this wasn’t a man just screaming out at the public as he speeds away. Just a man emboldened and willing to hurt her in front of a bar filled with people.

“We’re blocking the door.”Everything else died on her lips; unable to spill her guts.

“And we weren’t while you were lecturing me?”

Her phone buzzes in her jacket as she brings her cigarette back into her mouth, unwilling to justify her evasiveness to a man she barely knows, she answers a number she doesn’t know at all.

“Hello?” She says around her smoke.

“H-hello, is this a deputy?” A soft broken voice, she remembers from the diner,  asks her and Dahlia sits up, tension pricking at the back of her neck.

“That’s me, Cassie?”

“You remember me…”

“What’s going on, are you okay?”

“Yeah, uh, I…” a beat of silence and a choked sob comes next, “no, I’m sorry, I’m, I’m not okay, I-“

“Where are you?” Dahlia’s on her feet, heartbeat in her throat as she waves off John’s furrowed brows and concern, running to her bike.

“I’m at the diner. I didn’t know where else to go…”

“I’m headed your way now, Cassie, are you safe?”

“I…I don’t know…I…”

Her voice breaks out into sobs again as Dahlia starts her engine, slams on her helmet, and switches her phone to the speaker in her helmet. The girl’s cries echoing around her as her wheels kick gravel across the parking lot, speeding out of Falls End.

#far cry 5 #fc5 #john seed #jacob seed #this is love #dahlia hale #joseph seed #if you ever think im like smart or competent i want you to know that everytime i post a chapter i doubt my ability to count #like i know last chapter was chapter 7 but am I reeeeallly on chapter 8 is that reaaaaalllly how numbers work

[remcase]

Chapter 22

Love can vanquish Death.  - Lord Alfred Tennyson.

 For a moment William was blinded by the sun and could make out nothing of the graveyard below, but once the light stopped bursting in his eyes he looked down. Beside him he saw Elijah’s knees give slightly and he just let out a deep, unsteady breath.

Noah was ok.

He was standing by his mother’s grave, and though he was still, simply staring at it, when he moved his head to the side and wrapped his arms around himself William knew he was ok, and that he was safe.

He was almost sure he let out a cry of pure happiness and relief before he was running, heart thundering, feet pounding, down the hill to Noah. All of the day’s emotions crashed over him, coursing through his veins and when Noah heard his approach he turned, shocked despite the tears running freely down his face and then, he was in William’s arms.

That feeling of having Noah in his arms, safe and warm, after hours of pure agony, was so strong that William immediately started to shake and shudder with it, kissing Noah’s forehead, hair, cheeks, and temple, simply breathing him in.

He’s here.

“Gorgeous?” Noah protested weakly, trying to pull back so he could look at him, “What’s wrong? How did you find me? What’s going-”

“Don’t ever do that to me again, Noah Callaway.” William growled at him, the harsh anger in his voice juxtaposed by the gentle hands on his jaw guiding his beautiful face up and to the sun so he could see him. He was so beautiful, tears clinging to his lashes like diamonds, his eyes so light, his hair so dark, his lips so soft. Then, he kissed him, pouring all of his raging emotions into it, purging himself of all the darkness that had filled him up and revelling in the light and warmth and good that he found in its place instead. When they broke apart they were both breathing raggedly, bodies flush, and their arms locked tightly each other. Noah’s eyes were wide. “Will?”

“I thought you were fucking gone.” William whispered, “And you promised you’d never leave me.”

Realising how upset William was, and perhaps hearing that edge of hysteria in his voice Noah hugged him tightly, shaking his head quickly. “I’m here, gorgeous. I’m not going anywhere. No matter what.”

They stayed like that for a long while and William allowed himself to be held, feeling the world pass them by for just a moment while they were still, unmoving, and together.

William was alive again.

Eventually, however, he was forced to let Noah go and when he did his anger rightfully returned. He wiped his eyes fiercely. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going? Why did you leave without saying anything?!”

“How did you even find me?” Noah countered, then his eyes widened in realisation. “Dad. Dad’s here isn’t he?”

Looking back over his shoulder, William saw that Elijah was nowhere in sight, no doubt giving the boys some privacy and likely needing to recover from the trauma of the day before he had to face his son. William’s anger faded and he sighed, laying a heavy hand on the side of Noah’s neck, his thumb stroking the soft and delicate skin there. “Yeah he’s here, baby. You fucking scared everyone.”

“Tell me.”

So he did. William told Noah about every single minute that he had missed while he was gone, sparing no detail, hiding no truths, and not attempting to shield him in any way from how bad his act was, and how the repercussions of his actions would be severe. Finally he told him in explicit detail how what Noah had done had made him feel. By the time he was done talking Noah was crying openly. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking…I was just thinking about myself. I’m so fucking sorry gorgeous.”

William caught his tears and wiped them away tenderly. “Tell me everything.”

“What do you-?”

“Everything.” William repeated solemnly. “No more lies, no more omissions, no more half-truths. It’s time.”

Stepping away from William but keeping a hold of his hand, Noah sighed and turned him to face the grave. It was plain, simple, the headstone bearing the name Eloise Callaway and the dates of her birth and death, the inscription just a quote that he recognised from the poem Noah had taken from the library, the poem that was now held in a small frame and rested on the grave next to fresh flowers. I thank whatever gods may be, for my unconquerable soul.

“Invictus.” Noah whispered to him. “That’s the poem that she used to read. It was always her favourite. She used to read it to me when I was little, but she read it every day when she got sick. She said it made her feel strong.”

Their joined hands were a solid, unbreakable link between them and William felt the early evening wind ruffle his hair. “What did she look like?”

“She was beautiful. About my height but with this insanely long brown hair, pale, really pale skin and big brown eyes. Big heart. Beautiful soul. She could sing too, and she used to sit with me in the evenings on the couch and brush my hair or hold my hand and sing. She liked dong that a lot when she was really sick.” He choked on his tears. “She called me lovey. She told me I was the best gift that she had ever gotten.”

William’s own eyes burned and he blinked quickly, feeling his own mother’s phantom arms around him, recalled her favoured perfume and wondered how that absence must feel like for Noah. He stayed silent and let him keep talking. “I know that this is going to be hard to believe, but she never shouted at me, never got mad. She accepted me for who I was wholly, without reserve, and never ever made me feel like there was anything wrong with the way I was. She was just perfect, and I don’t know if it’s because it was just us two for so long but she was everything to me, you know? I needed her. She needed me. God, I fucking love her still and she’s gone. There’s nothing there, no hugs, no-one to call when I’m crying, nobody to stoke my hair and call me lovey anymore. She’s gone, Will. She’s just gone.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I fucked up.” Noah said, not even bothering to wipe away the tears. “I fucked up and I regret it every day.”

“Tell me.”

“I was seeing Jacob at the time. I told you what he was like, how he treated me, but I didn’t care. I loved him…or I thought I did. Things were bad at home. Mom was sick, Dad was struggling, and I needed an out. I needed an escape, so I clung to Jacob, needing him to kind of give me a release from my life falling apart. Mom was dying, but she still didn’t mind me spending time with Jacob because she just wanted me to be happy. She used to say that she wanted me to find a nice man to marry that would make me as happy as Dad made her.” Noah scoffed gently, but otherwise didn’t further address his mother’s words. “The day…it happened, I was at Jacob’s. Mom was in the hospital at this point and the day it happened I’d spent all morning with her, reading to her, and when she saw me get the text from Jacob to meet him at his house she told me to go have fun. And you know what?”

His heart as aching for Noah. He was bleeding. “What?”

“I left. I wanted to go. I didn’t want to stay because Jacob was nagging me to come over and I just wanted to leave. I was bored. Frustrated. Angry. With my own sick mother. I’m a fucking monster.”

“Noah, no-”

“I went to Jacob’s. He wasn’t out, so his parents weren’t at home. When I got there everything was fine for a while but then Dad started ringing me. I ignored the damn calls and fucked Jacob instead. In the middle his dad came home and we didn’t notice. He caught us in bed and went berserk. He dragged Jacob out of bed and threw my clothes at me, screaming the bloody house down. It was awful, and he was saying such horrible things-” Noah cut himself off, taking a sharp, shallow breath. “Anyway, I got dressed and his dad threw me out, and when he turned on Jacob and demanded that he explain what was happening Jacob told him I had asked to come over and fuck. He sort of made it out that I forced myself on him. Seduced him, maybe.” Noah laughed, but there was no humour in it. “I left. Called dad back. Turns out Mom had taken a turn. I got to the hospital just before died but she wasn’t really conscious. The nurse said she could hear me, but I don’t know if she did.”

The guilt in Noah’s voice, the self-hatred and the anger was near overwhelming, almost tangible. “I left my dying mom to go fuck a boy I knew didn’t love me or care about me. I…I didn’t get to say goodbye to her. I don’t know if she heard me.”

“Noah, baby…”

“I just wanted to say I was sorry.” Noah sobbed brokenly, “I just wanted to tell her that I was sorry, Will, because I don’t know if she heard me.”

“She did, baby, she did.” William said and pulled Noah into his arms tightly, letting him cry for as long as he needed to, soaking his shirt through. “She knows.”

William didn’t know how long they stood there like that, but the sun died and evening began to set in around them. They wouldn’t have much longer alone before Elijah would come looking for them. The world was waiting for them just beyond the hill at their backs, and when they crossed its crest they would have to face the consequences of what he and Noah had done back at school.

When they parted, William cupped Noah’s tear-stained face and kissed him again briefly, softly, gently, barely a whisper of lips. “Noah, I love you. Your mother loves you. Your father loves you. You are so loved, and if your mom was even half the woman that you described she wouldn’t you to feel this way, she wouldn’t want you to be so unhappy, so alone, baby. You. Are. Beautiful. Your mom’s beautiful soul lives on in you. Believe me.”

“I’m sorry for everything that I’ve done. I’m sorry for ruining us, Will, I’m sorry for not being strong enough.”

“Don’t be sorry. Please.”

Noah looked up at him, a realisation slowly dawning in his eyes. His lips turned down slightly. “Everything is going to change, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I think so. We’re both going to be in a lot of trouble.”

Noah bit his lip. “And us?”

“I love you, Noah.” William promised, but the little dark wound in his heart that Noah had put there still ached and he knew it couldn’t be ignored. “But we have lots to talk about. You’ve pushed me away. You isolated yourself, you didn’t trust me, and you scared me. I love you, Noah, but I’m going to need time. I’m sorry.”

Noah nodded, like he had expected it, but he didn’t cry or allow himself to slip back into the darkness. Instead he squeezed William’s hands, squaring his shoulders. “I’d wait a thousand years for you, William Dalton.”

Distantly William heard the sound of Elijah’s car door opening and he knew their time alone and outside of reality was quickly coming to an end. He turned back to the grave and looked at the headstone, trying to picture the woman that Noah had described and when he spoke, he tried to convey all of his love in his voice. “Thank you, Eloise, for bringing Noah into the world. Thank you for bringing him to me.”

Elijah’s footsteps were audible now at their backs and Noah took a deep, shuddering breath and looked at the sky. “I love you, Mom.”

William squeezed his hand, and then together they turned back to face Elijah, and to face everything they had left behind them.

[taesbetch]

But I Don’t Like Bacon

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut (ish)

Word Count: 2,006

You narrowed your eyes as you watched your long-time enemy byun Baekhyun. He was sitting a couple of tables away from you reading his textbook intensely. That’s not the part that annoyed you.

No, it was the crowd of girls watching him from outside the library windows as if an angel had just floated down from heaven.

And what made it even worse, was that he loved it. Ohhh god the boy was reveling in the attention he was getting.

He loved playing with their feelings and then dropping them as if they were nothing.

One of your best friends happened to be one of the girls he played; but yet she still pined after him. It's almost as if the hatred she should have felt traveled to you, amplifying you need to end him.

you were currently sitting at 2nd in your year levels ranking. Guess who the fuck was first.

Yep. Baekhyun.

Its like everything you did he was there and doing it better than you. Your vice captain, he's captain.

Your team managed to win regionals for soccer, his team won nationals.

You're pretty popular, but he is a walking god.

“Y/N your glaring again” your best friend sighed as she continued to write notes in her notepad.

“opps, didn’t notice” you said as you ripped your eyes from the devil and continued studying.

“aren’t your families close?” she asked as she moved on to researching on the internet. You sighed remembering that you families were planning a joint get away from the summer holidays.

“Yep! i have to see him every day, do you realise that I see him more than I see my own mother” you ranted as you placed your pencil down and sighed frustrated.

You best friend just shook her head before she looked up to give him a glance. You watched as her face quickly changed from longing to shock.  

She quickly dove her sight back down into her books as she continued to write.

You looked up to see the meaning of the sudden movement. That’s when you saw Baekhyun making his way to your table.

You rolled your eyes before slouching back in your chair ready to hear the bullshit fall out of his mouth.

“hey yuju” he said addressing your friend and completely ignoring you.

She blushed intensely as she tried to find the words to say to him.

“go away” you answered as she continued to sort out her shit. Baekhyun’s smile dropped before he slowly turned his face towards you.

“I don’t believe I was talking to you” he said as he folded his arms in annoyance.

“and you think I care” you said as you tilted your head to the side narrowing your eyes again back in his direction.

You best friend looked between you and him with worry as the tension between the both of you was building. An argument was making its way up your throats but before it could happen she spoke.

“did you want something?” yuju asked quickly.

Baekhyun gave you one last glare before turning his attention back towards her.

“I was just wondering if you would like to come to my party tonight, I was able to get the keys to the pent house of my flat complex, the whole year level is going to be there” he said before flashing her with his signature smile.

Yuju looked at you, searching your face for approval or disappointment or any kind of emotion.

A)   You don’t want to go to his stupid as party anyway

B)    You hate parties

C)   You hate him

But if she wants to go you cant stop her, but you definitely don’t approve.

“ill think about it…and if I do come, it’ll only be with Y/N” she said as she looked between us. Baekhyun looked horrified. He was not one to be negotiated with but if he want what I thought he wanted (some booty) then he was going to agree.

He groaned before eventually nodding his head.

You rolled your eyes as you watched him walk away, the crowd of girls waiting for him outside started freaking out and dispersed as soon as he opened the door

You kicked your shoes off as you entered your room, your bag quickly found its way too the ground and you phone quickly found its self calling yuju.

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

“I CAN’T BELIVE BAEKHYUN INVITED ME TO HIS PARTY! DO YOU THINK HE WANTS TO REKINDLE OUR FLING?” she screamed through the phone.

You sighed before continuing to talk to your friend.

“hey be careful alright…like we both know what kind of person he is” you said as you heard her shuffling around her room.

“yer yer, hey I'm going to go early alright, ill see you there” she squealed before hanging up the phone.

You huffed in annoyance before laying down on your bed relaxing your tensed muscles.

Maybe you should just stay home…Baekhyun doesn’t want you there, your friend will be too busy trying to get his attention. So, what’s the point…

You and Baekhyun used to be really good friends, your parents were best friends so naturally, you spent a lot of time together.

It wasn’t until around middle school when you started to loathe him, maybe it was because he started to ignore you? You technically weren’t cool enough for him back then.

You remembered that he had tried to rekindle your relationship with you a couple times. But of course, you being the stubborn bitch that you are rejected him.

And you also tried to rekindle things, but of course, his stubborn ass rejected you right back.

Then the both of you kind of gave up…

You shook off the thought of Baekhyun before deciding to just stop being a lil bitch and go to the party.

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

It was hella loud.

And I mean hella loud.

The floor was basically vibrating from the bass of the music and you might have been mistaken but the walls were basically shaking.

you wore a short red silky dress and your naturally wavy hair was let down. You felt good and you looked good too.

As you walked through the crowds of people trying to find your best friend you saw Baekhyun and his group of friends at the back of the room, drinking and laughing loudly.

Everyone looked like they were having the time of their lives, and it would be a lie if you said that the energy of the room wasn’t affecting you.

You decided to give up looking for Yuju and that the dance floor is where you should be.

As the song played and peoples bodies were moving to the beat you started swaying your hips to the rhythm not really paying attention to the people around you.

The dance floor started filling up with people as the beat of the music slowed down, it was that time of the night.

Random hands had found their way to your hips; as your body rolled you felt their body pressed against yours. Usually, this is where you would slap whoever was invading your space away.

But tonight, you wanted to have some fun.

You felt his member harden against your ass as friction was being created between the two of you.

“what the fuck do you think your doing”

You looked forward to seeing Baekhyun standing in front of you; his arms were crossed and his eyes were narrowed. Instead of the glare being directed towards you, he was glaring at the horny boy behind you.

You rolled your eyes before removing yourself from your dance partner; the mood had just been killed.

Baekhyuns eyes remained on the stranger as he sighed and walked off to find some other girl who was the same level of horny he was.

“whats your problem?” you asked angrily as he stalked closer towards you.

He said nothing. Before you could scream at him in annoyance he grabbed your wrist harshly before swerving on his heels and dragging you away from the party.

You struggled against his grip as he pushed you into the bedroom next to the main one.

“what the fuck do you want! If you're so mad, ill just leave?!” you shouted as you tried to push past him. He pushed you roughly making you fall back onto the floor.

As you let out a pained groan he swiftly locked the door before taking a deep breath in, his back was turned towards you.

“Why do you always do this to me” he breathed out softly as you stood up from your previous position.

“what the fuck are you talking about” you muttered as you rubbed your probably bruised ass.

“you always glare at me, always give me attitude, always reject me. And It drives me insane” he whined as he turned around to you. Instead of the anger, you saw in his eyes before; they were filled with desperation.

“All I’ve ever wanted was you Y/N, but every time you just keep pushing me away” he growled as hunger dripped from his voice.

You took slow steps back as he walked towards you. He wanted you, he wanted you so bad and it was written all over his face.

And judging by the way his voice was making your body react; you wanted him too.

As your back hit the wall Baekhyun placed his hands on either side of your body as his eyes were fixated to your lips.

“But tonight, you're mine” he whispered. His lips flew to yours like magnets.

You grabbed his shirt as his tongue skillfully entered your mouth, his hand trailed up your thigh as you opened your legs a little, letting him press his body closer to yours.

You pushed him backward lightly, leading him in the direction of the bed.

As he fell backward you eyed the hard boner that was begging for your attention.

You straddled him quickly as he tried to pull of your dress; you slapped his hands away before smirking down at him.

“Patience baek” you said before sending him a wink. He groaned impatiently before you slowly started to grind against him.

The friction caused by his jeans caused soft moans to escape your lips as the thinnest of your underwear let your core take the majority of it.

Baekhyun groaned repeatedly as he clutched your hips tightly, he tried to make you go fast but you continued at your pace.

“Y/N- baby, please go faster” he moaned as his face twisted with agony, the pace was killing him and that’s exactly what you wanted.

You had Baekhyun in the palm of your hand.

You decided to comply and picked up the pace of your grinding. Both you and baekhyuns moaned started getting louder and more frequent as the pressure of the grinding had also been increased.

As your stomach started to bubble you decided that now was the perfect time.

You stood up off Baekhyun leaving him confused to the sudden loss of contact.

“What happened?! Why’d you stop!?” he whined clearly upset that you stopped grinding which means he probably wouldn’t be able to actually have sex with you.

“What? You think you can just treat me like shit and then suddenly confess you don’t hate me and id fuck you?” you asked calmly as you fixed up your hair.

Baekhyun looked at a loss for words as he stared at you in shock.

“B-but it was the truth” he muttered softly.

“I know, and I’m willing to work on this, but it won’t be that easy” you shrugged as you collected yourself hormone wise.

“You liked it” he said as he stood up and started fixing himself up too.

“maybe, but I don’t like bacon” you said before patting his chest and walking out of the room.

You couldn’t help the smile that covered your face, you didn’t really know where your relationship with Baekhyun would go but you knew it’d be an exciting journey.

(A/N sorry if it was bad! I got a little lost with where I was taking this one, but anywho I hope you enjoyed a little bit of it :) )

#byun baekhyun #byun bacon #baekhyun #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun smut #baekhyun scenario #bakehyun imagine #exo smut scenario #exo fluff #exo #exo baekhyun #exo imagine #exo scenarios

[seventeen-scenarios-blog]

[FIC] Unbound (T)

Prompt: Stepbrother!Mingyu Sequel Word Count: 4,911 Genre: Angst Warnings: Mild substance abuse

A/N: Y'ALL ASKED FOR IT, AND HERE IT IS, FINALLY. I really wanted to get this done in time for Mingyu's birthday, but I guess fate had other plans :( But still, it's done! THE SEQUEL TO TIES IS FINALLY COMPLETED, THE FATE OF OUR HEROES SHALL BE DETERMINED *cough*.  I know it's been a while since that monster-sized fic, so I'd recommend giving it a read again before delving into this one. Thank you so much for the love you've shown for this story. There would not have been a sequel if it weren't for the support <3 ENJOY!

-wooed<3

Read the first installment, Ties, here!

Short Recap:

“I understand,” he says again, as though trying to convince himself, and he crushes you into his arms tighter. “But for now, please… Let me hold onto you for a little longer before I let you go. Just for tonight.”A little longer, that’s all the time the both of you have. Compared to the past thirteen years you’ve spent together, five hours seems like a laughably, cruelly short amount of time now. You sniffle and manage a nod, and he takes in your consent with by nuzzling his nose against the crook of your neck. “I understand.”

It seems like your mind had been playing tricks with you the whole time.

Whenever you tried recalling moments spent with your older brother Mingyu, you recalled of the countless times he had given the you cold shoulder in Junior High, how he avoided you at all costs in the halls of your high school, embarrassed by the thought of being seen with the bottom percentile of the school.

Pretending like you’ve never existed, that was what he was like to you. All this time you thought that you meant this little to Mingyu.

But ever since that fateful night at Jihyun’s house, you’ve started recollecting other memories; whether selectively repressed or not, you had no idea.

The memories of him staring down bullies at the playground with a darkly uttered: “Don’t mess with my sister”, the memories of him incessantly slipping his prized study notes into your room while you’re busy playing video games, memories of a warm meal of stew and rice being left out in the dining table when you come home from late night studies in the library during your senior year.

There was even a memory of him when he was in the 7th Grade while you were in the 6th, when your parents were both overseas on a business trip. He had ran to your elementary school through the thundering rain, just to pass you the umbrella you had carelessly forgotten before turning on his heels and sprinting off for basketball practice completely drenched.

The memories made you break out into cold sweat in the middle of the night, waking up panting and in desperate need of a warm drink to soothe yourself.

You hardly left your room since that incident, opting to hole yourself in your duvet covers and coming out only in mealtimes. Your mother is especially worried, noting how little you’ve been eating, while your step-father gets increasingly aggravated every time Mingyu’s seat remains empty at the dining table.

“He’s heading off to America for who knows how long, and he still wants to spend his last few days in Korea with his friends,” he would grumble around a mouthful of food. “It’s like he doesn’t care about our feelings at all.”

But you know what Mingyu is doing. The tension that exploded between the both of you has made it so that you aren’t able to stay in the same room for more than three seconds. It is already suffocating living under the same roof with him. Bumping into each other in the mornings always called for your awkward bowing before scampering off like he was the boogeyman, while his unreadable yet heated gaze bore down your back like the glaring sun.

A part of you wanted him to quickly leave for America, and put the two of you out of your misery for the next few years and yet… The tug on your heartstrings let you know that you’re definitely feeling otherwise.

But before you know it, the day Mingyu leaves Korea arrives, and you wake up that morning with a sickeningly nauseated feeling deep in your stomach. Your parents had offered you a ride with them to the airport to send your step-brother off, but you turn them down, mumbling a half-hearted excuse about coming down with the flu.

While initially disappointed that you aren’t going to be there, your mother sensed that something is awry (or rather, more awry than usual) between you and Mingyu, but chose to probe no further when you assured her that you’ve already said your goodbyes to each other the night before.

It isn’t a complete lie; Mingyu had felt the compulsive need to settle the things that were left unspoken between the both of you, and when both your parents had fallen asleep, he had come knocking on your door, very well aware that you would still be awake at this hour. Obviously, you wouldn’t be sleeping at all, not with conflicting thoughts and emotions running through your mind a mile a minute.

The sound of his knuckles rapping against your wooden door sends your heart jumping out of your throat, and you froze in your foetal position in bed.

“I know you’re awake,” he said with sadness lacing his voice. The same broken voice from that night. The voice you had prayed with all your might you’ll never hear again. “Please, I just want to talk to you.”

You had pressed your lips together, unable to muster the courage to open the door. At your silence, he let out a sigh.

“I want to talk to you,” he murmured, almost with resign, “Just as a brother.”

A brother… You had almost snorted in incredulity. After all the turmoil you both had went through, the emotions he had bestowed upon you, the fiery sensations from that night that still lingers in your dreams, he still wanted to simply refer to himself as your goddamned brother?

“I know, I was a terrible older brother to you, I know I don’t deserve to talk to you now, but please listen.” As if your body had a mind of its own, you found yourself sitting against the door, your back pressed up against the cool wood. Your head tilted back and rested against it with a soft bump, and you wondered if he was doing the same.

His despair was potent and seemed to permeate through the door and overwhelm you. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he began, as though knowing that you’re already alert and listening to his every word. “I’m leaving for another continent, and I don’t know when I will be coming back.”

His words did nothing but send another wave of agony coursing through your body, and it took all you could to remain silent.

“All I ask of you is that you take good care of yourself,” he said. “Please, eat well, sleep well and stay healthy. College life isn’t going to be any easier than high school, but I know you’ve matured enough to make your own rational decisions. I know you’ll shine in school.” Those words, though encouraging, sounds forced and laced with a heavy tone that dragged the entire atmosphere down. “And if I’m not at home, you’ll have to be there for mom and dad. They get lonely really easily.”

And what about me? How am I going to eat or sleep well, if all I ever think about right at every moment is you, bastard?

He stopped talking, leaving his words hanging in the air and ringing in your ears. You lowered your head, tucking it in between your knees, hoping to block out the rushing sounds of blood in your ears.

“Fuck,” he suddenly cursed, “I can’t do this…”

You barely had the time to wonder about his sudden change in behaviour before the hard thumping of presumably his fists colliding with the ground has you jumping out of your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he had said abruptly. “What happened back last week, I know you want to forget about it all. But I simply can’t. Shit, I’d do anything to forget that because it hurts so fucking much thinking about it. It hurts to think that we’ve left things like this. It hurts that we can’t even talk to each other anymore. It hurts that we just have to keep pretending that we can’t possibly love each other…”

And his voice cracked, leaving broken sobs in the wake of his words. You could hardly keep yourself together as well, his emotions effectively reflecting your own as clearly as if you were looking at a mirror. What kind of sin would the both of you had committed to have landed yourselves in a fucked up position like this one? Neither of you deserved this.

But you weren’t prepared for his next desperate utterings. “Please, it’s not too late. We can still make this work. I promise… I’ll take care of you, I won’t let anyone tear us apart--”

“Stop it, right there,” you had blurted out before you can stop yourself, a cathartic mixture of rage and grief engulfing your mind completely shrouding any coherent thoughts in your brain. “Kim Mingyu, I already told you that we can’t do this. There’s no way that this can work.”

“We’ll find a way,” he insisted, with renewed vigour as he finally heard your response, your voice for the first time in a whole week. “We’ll talk to our parents, we’ll get help from our friends, I’ll stay in Korea!”

“No, you won’t!” you snapped back, shooting back up on your feet, “Listen to yourself right now! Do you even understand what you’re saying? You’re giving up so much; so many students out there would kill for a scholarship like yours. There’s so much in the future in store for you, there’s dad’s company you’re set to inherit, there’s all of your friends… You’re willing to give all of that up for what? A measly relationship?”

Even though the door’s obstructing your view of Mingyu, you could see how his eyes darken in your mind’s eye. “There’s nothing measly about the way I feel about you, you know that.”

He softened and you heard the way his fingers drag across the wood of the door. “Is this really what you feel? Do you really think that what we had meant this little to me?”

Of course you didn’t, shuddering as you recalled all the fiery sensations Mingyu had given you that night. “Mingyu…” you dropped your voice to a whisper. “I can’t ruin your life the same way I ruined mine before. You’ll regret this.”

“I won’t,” he pleaded. “I’ve never wanted anything more for the past thirteen years. If you give me the chance, I’ll protect you, I’ll give you the happiness you deserve.”

There he went with his delusional thoughts again… and the way they influenced you to believe in him. Maybe, he can fulfill that: he can bring you happiness, he can take care of you. You want to be with him. You want to take his hand, run away and never look back. But alas, as tempting as it sounds, you’d be a fool to believe him. Try as you both might, there will never be a future. He’s too perfect, his future is blindingly bright; how selfish would you have to be to bring him down like that? Who were you do dull his shining potential?

You couldn’t allow it, and despite the painful sensations crushing against your ribs and rendering you almost breathless, you had to do what needed to be done. “Mingyu, I said this before and I’m going to say this again… No, don’t do this.”

And then silence ensued, so deep yet so deafening, as Mingyu finally swallowed your words. Every hair in your limbs stood on end as you waited for his response.

“Will you be there tomorrow?”

Such despondency, such defeat in five simple words, so poignant you felt all of your defences crumbling into a messy heap with one fell swoop. But you force yourself to eke out the following words: “I think it’s best if we don’t see each other, for the both of us.”

“Then…” A long pause, as though he was contemplating his words. “can you at least open the door, to let me look at you for the last time? Please?”

That, you absolutely couldn’t do. You feared heavily that one look into his imploring eyes would make you retract every statement you’ve forced out, would make you fall into his warm, inviting arms and forget about every sin and mistake you’ve committed.

“That… wouldn’t be a good idea, Mingyu,” you choked out like it was your last breath.

“I see.” You can barely hear his voice anymore. “Take care of yourself, then.”

“I will, oppa.”

You wondered if he had managed to hear you utter that one term of endearment for the first time in years, because the next things you hear are the dull clumps of his feet against the plywood, growing fainter, and fainter as he strode away from you.

At least he wouldn’t be able to hear the shattering sob that ruptured out of your chest that had you sliding down the walls in utmost despair. Pulling your legs close to your chest, you cried yourself to sleep, curled up by the door like the loathsome, vile creature you know you are, unworthy of any attention, pity or love.

And so as the morning comes, you can only listen to the roar of the car at the driveway, the car that will take Mingyu away from your life forever.

After finding you in your current desolate state, your mother had wrapped you up in your quilt, and had left the door open, perhaps as an open invitation for you in case you change your mind. But you know that you neither had the strength nor willpower to get up anymore.

Wallowing in your own self pity, you writhe deeper into your sheets. It hasn’t even been minutes, but you’re already feeling lonelier than ever. You draw in a deep breath until your lungs ache, then let the air out shakily. If only the negative thoughts cluttering your mind could be gotten rid off as easily as exhaling.

You wonder if you should just fall back asleep, the bottle of sleeping pills by your nightstand suddenly looking so tempting to your eyes. You won’t know when you’d awaken again, but it is better than allowing the wound in your heart to fester. Before you know it, your fingers close around the small, plastic bottle, and you pop two white pills onto your hand.

“All I ask is for you to take care of yourself…”

It hasn’t even been a whole day since, but you’re already going back on the one promise you made to him.

I’m sorry, Mingyu, but I want to get rid of these feelings. Your eyes squeeze shut us you roll the sinful capsules in your steadily sweating palm.  Just two will do. You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself more than necessary; you needed just enough to knock you out for the next few hours.

Your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears, you can’t hear opening and closing of your front door. Your mind made, you tilt your head back to drop the pills into your mouth. The bitter tang of the medication spreads through the base of your tongue and almost makes you gag, but you force yourself to swallow anyway.

But even the pills disobey you, getting stubbornly caught at the back of your dry throat without anything to wash them down. As a result, you choke and retch, doubling over in utter disgust with yourself.

“Hey, babe? Where you at-- Oh my god, spit that out!”

Your mind too thick with dense fog, you barely see the blurry figure dashing into your room in panic. Within seconds the newcomer has one arm fastened across your chest while the other is repeatedly tapping against your back. Hacking violently, you manage to dislodge the medicine, leaving two powdery lumps in your wake.

Completely spent and haggard, you feel yourself get dragged back onto the bed, chest heaving heavily from the ordeal.

“How could you, babe? I was so worried!” You get yanked into a skinny but warm embrace, the pounding in your head ceasing just enough for you to recognise the newcomer’s voice. “Are you okay? Please talk to me…”

“Ji...hyun?” you stutter out confusedly, feebly pulling yourself out of your friend’s arms. “W-what are you doing here?”

“I came here as soon as he called me. Your…” The girl in front of you nervously shifts her eyes, as though contemplating on her word use, “... brother called me before he left. Said you were alone at home, told me to come over to take care of you and make sure you were okay. And… oh god…” She breaks off once she notices your freshly fallen tears.

Mingyu still cared. Even after your constant rejection, your constant avoidance, the final blow you’ve delivered to him last night… He still cared. The emotions you had struggled so hard to repress finally reach a breaking point and before you know it, your eyes and nose burn up and you’re crying again. Your hands find a death grip on the cloth on your chest, squeezing it until your knuckles turn pale and tremble as though it’s the only thing keeping you together.

“Oh baby,” Jihyun sighs, gently cupping your face between her small hands. Her thumb smears away the wet droplets on your cheeks before she pulls you into her bosom. “It’s okay, just cry it out. I’m here for you.”

You almost feel ashamed of yourself. You hate this, you hate feeling like this, you hate yourself, and you want to hate Mingyu for making you feel like this. But yet…

“I love him, Jihyun,” you sob into her chest. “I love him. I love him so fucking much.”

“I know baby, I know you do...” she murmurs sympathetically, one hand softly cradling the back of your head. You are pretty sure your tears are soaking through her expensive branded clothes by now, but she makes no move to let you go. “He loves you too, you know?”

You can’t trust your voice anymore, opting to shake your head miserably instead. No, you don’t deserve him. You’re not worthy for his love. “It’s true,” she insists. “I had to admit, I was caught off-guard by the truth last week, and I never got a chance to ask you about it because you both left so quickly that night. But you know what that crazy bastard Mingyu did?”

At that last sentence, you tilt your head up curiously, staring at your best friend through the sheen of moisture in your eyes. “He came back and pleaded to talk to me. He wanted to clear everything up and explain your situation. He told me about Donghyuk and why he had to act out like that, he told me… what happened after you left. He told me all about his feelings for you, hoping that I would be able to understand your plight and not blame you for anything.”

It is like your chest had just been squeezed through a wringer, your lungs constricting so much that you can barely breathe between your cries. Jihyun rubs a soothing hand down your back in circular motions. “It was a lot for me to take in at first, but I do know one thing: Mingyu really, really does love you. And you love him back now, don’t you?”

You are torn between a nod and a shake of your head, so you can only pathetically tighten the hold you have on your best friend.

“He’s too good for me,” you manage to wheeze out. “We can never be together.”

Jihyun’s embrace abruptly cuts off as she suddenly grips you by your shoulders. “You listen to me now, missy. No, he’s not too good for you. No one’s too good for you. You deserve him as much as he deserves you, do you hear me?!” The words were spoken with such harsh conviction, it sends a blow straight through your head. Something that could be equivalent to an epiphany hits you like a truck. Is Jihyun right? Just five simple sentences. That was all it took to send you reeling back into reality.

Your mouth falls open and you stare at her, dumbstruck by this revelation.

Jihyun watches you ponder over her words, and she flashes you a knowing, motherly smile while her hand props your fallen jaw back up to its proper place. “It’s not too late, you know… You can still get to say your goodbyes.”

“C-Cab,” you stupidly mumble, clumsily clambering back up onto your feet. “I need to get a cab, now!” It’s not too late… It’s not too late! His flight is scheduled to take off an hour from now. If you hurry, you might just be able to catch up with him.

But the metallic tinkling of keys catches your attention, and you look up to see your best friend holding a set of keys up with a smirk.

“You tell me now,” she winks. “Exactly how many broken traffic laws is this man worth?”

Jihyun’s motorcycle screeches to a halt by the curb of the airport amongst a chorus of noisy car honks and disapproving shouts from other vehicles, but you can’t care less. Muttering a quick ‘thank you’ to Jihyun, you all but throw your helmet onto the gravel pavement, bolting towards the departure hall like your life depends on it.

It must have been a strange sight to behold, a girl with a messy bun of hair dressed in nothing but an oversized white sleeping shirt and a pair of boxers in the middle of an airport, but you disregard all the stares and whispers, your mind fixated on one thing and one thing only.

Your lungs are burning, your legs are screaming in protest, and your body is completely exhausted from yesterday and today, yet you continued to shove yourself past the crowd with unbridled strength, desperate to find him.

Oh my god, where is he?!

You push your way to the entrance of the departure hall, recognising his flight number displayed on the screen all too well. You stand on your toes, trying to find Mingyu amongst the crowd of passengers, forcing yourself to suppress the mounting panic rising like bile up your throat. No, it can’t be. I can’t be too late. He couldn’t have left. He couldn’t have left you just like that!

But what you can only describe as utter euphoria spreads through your body like an electrical current when you see a tall figure sticking out amongst the masses, his favourite matte black cap and trenchcoat all too familiar to your eyes. Though you’ve spent thirteen years with him, this is the first time seeing him this sullen and lifeless, his back drooping with the weight of the world.

From the other side of the gate, you watch helplessly as he stands in the queue in front of the check-in counter, knowing fully well that he wouldn’t ever be able to turn around once he crosses that barrier. Every cell in your body screams at you to call out to him, but standing in front of a pair of formidable looking security guards blocking the gates, you can only watch him shuffle closer and closer towards the counter. You’ve lost your chance to reconcile. You’ll never be able to see him again, and you can never bring yourself to look at him ever again either, thoroughly ashamed of what you had done to him.

“Mingyu…” Your whisper comes out piteous and broken.

But to your amazement, standing next in line at the check-in counter, Mingyu pauses and turns around, like he had heard you. He sweeps his eyes across the hall, as though searching… waiting for someone, his dull eyes having a tint of hopefulness in them which steels your resolve.

And you do what you never thought you’d do.

Darting in between the two security guards, you sprint into the departure hall. The subsequent caterwauling from the surrounding crowd is nothing compared to the thrashing and hammering of your heart.

“KIM MINGYU!”

His name flies out of your mouth on its own accord, and floored by your own actions, you skid to a stop in the middle of the hall. Your knees are in the verge of buckling under the tremendous amount of emotions, you are sweating icy cold bullets, and you thought that you are going to pass out, but you miraculously remain standing with your chin up high.

Kim Mingyu stares back at you, his eyes blown wide, every muscle of his stiff and motionless. The other passengers break into curious whispers, casting you borderline irritated glances. You suck in a shaky breath, your fingers unwittingly curling into fists behind your back.

“Am I too late?” you softly breathe out.

Time seems to crawl by as Mingyu takes the longest two seconds of your life to drink in your words.

Then he drops everything in his hands.

“Oh fuck this,” is the only thing you hear coming out of him before he closes the distance in between the both of you in three lengthy strides and proceeds to crush his lips against yours. At that moment, everything disappears: the people, the guards hollering at you, the entire airport dissipates into nothingness. In you mind’s eye, it is only the two of you. All air escapes your system and you feel like you’re literally floating in air out of pure elation as his body molds into yours perfectly once again. This is where you are truly meant to be; in his arms. You’re thrown back to that fateful night with the sheer amount of passion in his kiss. Except now, it’s different. You’re no longer rejecting his affections. You want him, you want to be with him. And feeling the way he smiles against your lips, you know he’s feeling the same way.

Feeling lightheaded and giddy, you finally pull away to catch your breath, only to be met with Mingyu’s blindingly shining eyes. “You came,” he says. “You finally came.”

“Of course I did,” you reply with a shy turn of your head, embarrassed by the sheer magnitude of the grin that threatens to break across your face. Your body still held between his arms, he throws his head back and lets out a short laugh of both delight and disbelief. “Please tell me this isn’t a dream.”

You soften, feeling the tinge of guilt again for putting him through this much emotional suffering. To reassure him, you lift a hand and placed it on his cheek. “I’m sorry I’m so late,” you tell him. “But I’m here now. I love you, Mingyu.”

Yet another melodious bout of laughter escapes his lips as he leans into your touch. How long he must have waited, you realise, to have been able to hear those three words coming from your mouth. “I love you,” you repeat, hoping to compensate for lost time. “I love you, Kim Mingyu.”

His grip around your body impossibly tightens. “Oh god,” he sighs, about to pull you in for another mind-blowing kiss but you are both interrupted by the announcer on the PA system.

“Passengers bound for Pennsylvania, America, are to report to their boarding gates. The flight will take off at ten-thirty.”

The both of you turn to meet each other’s gazes, suddenly dragged back down into reality. Mingyu’s eyes dart between the check-in counter and you, and you can sense the amount of conflict whirling in his mind. “Come with me,” he breathes out. “Come to America. We can start a life there. Or… Or I’ll stay in Korea. We… we can-”

“Mingyu,” you giggle, bringing your other hand to the other side of his face, prompting him to look directly into your eyes. “It’s okay, you can go to America.”

He flinches at your words, as though he has never expected those words to come from you. “But-”

“I’ll wait for you, Mingyu,” you assure him. “It’s okay, I’m just really glad I got the chance to talk to you before you left for America.”

He frowns, a shadow of pain flickering across his irises. “So, nothing’s changed? We still won’t be together.”

At that, you immediately shake your head. “Everything’s changed, Mingyu. Sure, we are still separated, but we won’t be avoiding each other anymore, we won’t live in lies anymore. We can still talk to each other. You can come back during your breaks, I’ll come visit during mine. It’s We’ll find a way to make this work, I promise.” You echo the words he said to you before. “I know it’s not going to be easy for us, but we’ll be okay, Mingyu.”

“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” he confesses. “It could take three years, maybe four.”

“You waited for thirteen years, Mingyu,” you try to lightheartedly say despite the aching in your heart, “I think it’s time I reciprocate.” In response, he squeezes your hand tight in his. “But I’ll miss you so much.”

“I will too.” You press your head against his rapidly beating chest. “We’ll be okay, Mingyu. I know we will.”

Mingyu cradles your head lovingly, and you both take in the sight of each other, neither of you quite willing to pull away. “I love you,” he says again, but you know that you’ll never be tired of hearing that.

With the last, heartfelt kiss of farewell, you feel the strings that had suffocated you for the past week come completely undone, dissolving like dew in the morning sun. Even when he returns to his spot in the check-in counter and you’re rudely shoved out of the departure hall by the more-than-disgruntled guards, you can’t help but draw in a breath of pure happiness.

There are more trials and tribulations to come as a result of the decision you both have made. Your relationship will be difficult, tumultuous even. This is only the beginning of your struggles. Yet, as you him disappear amongst the crowd of passengers, looking brighter than you’ve ever seen him before...

You feel free.

#seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen drabbles #kim mingyu #mingyu #mingyu drabble #mingyu angst #mingyu scenarios #scoups #jeonghan #joshua #jun #hoshi #wonwoo #woozi #dk #the8 #seungkwan #vernon #dino #diamond life scenarios

[unillama04-blog]

So I have chronic health issues so I spend a lot of time in hospital. Last year I spent 6 months collectively in the hospital. I’ve had mental health issues since I was 8. I tied a belt around my neck and to the bed, medication induced psychosis. I don’t remember it from the day after it. And then I had to go to camhs.

Which wasn’t good. From age 9 and a half I’ve been deeply suicidal, just thinking back to summer 2016, I was 11. I had a diary that I hid in my room. And I remember every single entry for the summer had me saying I wanted to kill myself. Then when I went to school I grabbed my diary and chucked it into an outdoor bin. I don’t think I will ever move on from that guilt.

Last year was a shit show. January I only did 2 weeks at school as my disease was back and was waiting on tests. On my last day a was out into a headlock and the girl punched the crap out of. When I was at home I had vile online bullying. My school told my parents to involve the police.

February I was rushed to hospital with a bad infection and catastrophic levels of inflammation in my intestines. I was in for 5 weeks. I was told I needed an emergency test, but the soonest they could get was 11 days as I had to have meds 3 days before so I couldn’t keep waiting every day for a slot it had to be scheduled. So I went home for 11 days. During that time I had tickets for panic at the disco I was so excited. So excited. But I was to sick to go so my family went. I told them it was fine but I sobbed at home, I was tube fed in pain and was missing out.

Then I had the procedure in April, I was told my intestines were really bad. My body was using up my medication to fast so it was ineffective and that I’d need surgery soon rather than later as if it was left I’d end up critical and needing emergency surgery. All that year I had no support from camhs, list in the system yet again. I had a new worker as mine had gone on maternity leave. Leading up to the descion of surgery my surgeon kept doubting me and saying I should have a few months of psychological support before surgery. And maybe some of my pain was psychological which when they did the op they found out it wasn’t. You can’t have poor mental health and have chronic illness as then the drs just say it’s all your fault and all in your head. I had to fight for surgery and screaming at my parents for agreeing at first with my surgeon. I was fighting for a better life. But what they didn’t see was me wrecked in my bedroom repaying hold on just until surgery. Because I had enough of my disease. I was so close to self harm but if I did I knew my surgery would of been called off. The blade and scissors pressed against my skin many times but I never dragged it to create the cut.

I had my surgery in June. It was horrible. I was in agony and ended up in the critical care unit. I was drowning in dry land. My body went out of control and my lungs filled with fluid. My stomach had temporarily paralysed. My parents didn’t visit me as much. Because of the stomach I was struggling to eat or drink and I wasn’t weened off my tube feeds so in July I was transferred to the medical ward. Sometimes I really wish that I never left critical care breathing.

July came, my dads birthday was on the 6th and there was so much pressure to be joke for his birthday it was degrading. Just eat. But every time I ate I felt so sick and was in agony. I was on pump feeds but I kept turning the pump off as it hurt too much. I got into trouble a lot for it. I was told I could go home for my dads birthday but couldn’t. And then the enormous pressure as it was my sisters 18th on the 10th and her party on the 13th. I was promised I’d be out for her birthday and I wasn’t. Her birthday Wednesday the 10th July, was when everything started snowballing. My family went out for a meal, it was all over Facebook it looked amazing. They was having so much fun. And I was stuck in a hospital bed. I was so fustraited as I had been promised I could go home for her birthday.

That night there was a girl brought in for self harm thoughts. She wasn’t supposed to be on my ward she should of been on the general med ward not complex health. I was already feeling low and hearing that stuff just made everything worse. That night I snapped a razor and it was horrible. I managed to not self harm. Then Thursday evening I was doubled over in agony it was horrible so Friday I was just wiped out. And couldn’t fake any smiles. So a student nurse who looks after me a lot came to ask me if I was okay as staff was concerned and they knew I was under camhs. She explained about her depression and I said about what had almost happened. She quoted the confidentiality crap. But I thought bcus I hadn’t done anything nobody would need to know.

But it had to be reported. then the next day was Saturday the 13th. And my consultant cane to see me and I was in a foul mood bcus if my sisters birthday. And she said “Ellie I’ve heard some very disturbing reports from the nursing staff a hour how your feeling” I asked about the home leave and doged the camhs crap. And it was horrible. I managed to get home leave for the night but had to go back to the hospital. The only doctor in the team who let me as I’ve missed out on so much. And they kept promising me that I’d be discharged.

Well I surpised my sister it was an amazing moment, but i can’t ever think of that moment and not get upset. Everyone was happy to see me. It was nice but I couldn’t eat and I had been moved to bolus feeds which were really hard. And they were all pressuring me to eat. I had to go to bed and leave the part early. I felt like utter shit. Like I had let everyone down. I was really trying to hold off the self harm. Thinking what about mum and dad like I always try when that comes into my head or if I have suicidal thoughts. But it wasn’t enough I was in my room by 9, and by 12 I couldn’t cope. Couldn’t cope with other pressures behind the scenes. Couldn’t cope with the pain. I had all the psychological crap. And I had surgery I just underestimated recover pains. I wanted to feel something. I wanted to feel pain see it fucking understand it control and stop it. I couldn’t understand anything else.

I had razors in my room but it was too late to snap them. So I used pins sissors. I was so ashamed come the morning. I couldn’t eat breakfast, more pressure. And had to pack to go back to the hospital. I had a shower. It hurt so much. That was so mentally hard. Because I had cut just before I got into the shower. As my sister had a surprise holiday reviled for the next day was so excited. Her and my mum was going abroad. I was happy for her I had knew for ages. But my dad and brother (the only ones that’s be left at home) were planning what they was going to do whilst my mum and sister was away. And my brother said “it’s like I’ve got 1 sister anyway as Ellie is never here” he has autism and didn’t mean it to cause hurt. But it was a moment I fully realised I don’t fit into the family picture. I don’t belong in just a strain on what they want to do.

With all this I was on 1-1 in the hospital whilst they got me stable mentally and physically. I was cutting a lot when I got to the hospital it was out of control I didn’t want to keep doing it but I couldn’t help it. The Sunday my nurse had noticed my ankles whilst doing my feed I said it was nothing and put them under the blanket. Then the Monday came and I was just very bad. Tuesday I turned to a trusted nurse and quietly explained. She took the blades. It’s a children’s ward I felt really shit. For how I felt and what I did. I made sure it was something I child would never really pick up. Or find. In a packet of pocket tissues. Shoved in a sick bowl (empty)

The Wednesday came and they had to tell dad. It was a shit show. I begged if they could wait until Sunday. But they couldn’t. My dad went mental called me an attention seeker he later realised it wasn’t. It was horrible. On the Sunday night when my mum and sister where flying back I got really worked up and scratched so hard 6 repetitive I’ve lined wnd one just huge mess. I didn’t realise at first because I was so anxious but afterward I went oh fuck. Because there was no getting around that one as it was my hands/wrist. On the Monday my mum had a massive conversation about my self harm and came around and she had her own history that was personal that she told me which broke my heart. She came and visited me on the Tuesday it was a massive surprise. I met her at the lifts at the end of my ward I was pushing my wheel chair. It was July so it was boiling and I didn’t have my hoodie so I couldn’t hide it.

Mum saw and flipped her shit, it broke my heart. Before we had gotten half way across the hall after being in the lifts my dad stormed off to the ward because he was furious with me. There was a massive kick off. She said that if I self harmed again she’d make sure I get sectioned. My mood abd tiufht we’re low and I opened up to the hospital psychologist abd was honest and was on 1-1.

Now it’s April 2020 and I asked to borrow a pair of scissors to change a medical dressing. It was handed over that I had them and the nurse took them off of me. Then I asked to borrow some for my cross stitch and my nurse said your not keeping them you have to give them back give your history. I have self harmed since July but badly and made sure it wasn’t too deep etc. I’m 3 almost 4 months clean. Yet I’m still treated like a head case. At this stage I just wanna die I’ve had enough as I can take of this life