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igotanidea · 1 year

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Hoodies and sneakers : Jason Todd x fem!reader

@mxtokko asked me to make part 2 of my ff Beneath (Jason Todd x fem! plus size reader). This is sth that may or may not be treated like this. @jasontoddsthickbabe - I take the liberty of tagging you since you were the one who requested previous part.

Summary: Y/N may (or not) have got through her size complex, but something new is creeping in. Something about her wearing tomboy-like clothes and not being feminine enough......

It was pretty rough day. Not because of work or the intensity, but because of late Y/N has been spending a lot of time inside her own head. Dealing with her thoughts and demons that seemed to feed of the smallest piece of insecurity and doubt. It was getting harder to deal with them and focusing on work was becoming impossible. How could she possibly concentrate when the world was going crazy before her eyes and she was slowly loosing grip of who she was and what was her place on Earth.

She was really better and sort of lighter before Jason confessed how he felt about her and they started building a relationship. Before that, she was fairly aware she was not an object of desire and therefore never focused on that. But now…. More often than not she was wondering whether she was the girl she was supposed to.

The problem was, Y/N was always the kind of girl who felt best in leggings, or even sweatpants, and hoodies. Messy hair, lack of makeup and domestic vibes were definitely her style. She was rocking sneakers, using bus instead of cab and never cared about the brand. This was fine, before Jason turned her world upside down. And now? Irony being that when she became the girlfriend the world started overflowing her with the images of hot girls in tiny dresses, feminine-like with perfect hair, painted nails etc. Real girlbosses. And that was only feeding her fears.

However, she was doing her own thing, not showing how she felt inside. It was working for a while, but after a few weeks she was getting more and more sad and frustrated and the time bomb was ticking in the stepped-up pace leading straight up to explosion.

Since Y/N was still working as a journalist in Gotham biggest newspaper and considering her part-time job as Wayne tech expert she was spending a lot of time working remotely, from the manor. Sometimes it was just too much dealing with the colleagues, but of course, from time to time she had to show in the office. For a debriefing for example. She never treated those differently than any other work day, so she was not prepared for what was coming for her.

“Wait. What do you mean photoshoot?” he eyes grew wide at the sight before her. All those professional photographers, cameras, lights and photography equipment got her head spinning

“Oh, Y/N. didn’t you get the e-mail? I sent you all notification a couple weeks ago….”

“E-mail. Right. Of course I did. I just….. forgot to open it.” In fact, when she saw a message entitled “Sitting” she just deleted it without opening. Grave mistake.

“Don’t worry about it, dear. I bet we can find some more appropriate clothes for you. The girls can borrow you something. You surely cannot show yourself in this.” Her boss pointed out towards her worn jeans and a simple, basic black T-shirt.

“I don’t think anything will fit me…..” now, the plus size complex started to creep in. Great. She felt sick. Again.

“Are you all right, y/n?” her work best friend came from behind and quickly realized what must have been happening inside her head.

“I’m fine….” She swallowed strenuously “I think I;m just gonna sit back and watch.”

“But….”

“It’s all right, I swear. I was never a fan of showing off after all. But by all means, you go ahead. It’s your time to shine.” She pushed her friends towards the other girls, who were just flawless. Showing off, smiling, teasing and flirting. High heels, office looks…. Y/N felt like a preschooler amongst the confident, beautiful women. She never get to feel like this. She never needed to be on the spotlight. So why the fuck did it hurt so much. Knowing that she would never look so hot and mature. Jason told her he loved her (yes, he finally used those words), but what if was just a toy? A way to kill time before he found someone better? Hotter? Sexier?

“Not again….” she whispered as her heart started beating rapidly due to all the projecting she was doing.

“Y/N? Are you familiar with the photo equipment?” one of the snappers asked

“Yes! Yes I am. Do you need help?”

“Um…. I do. But are you sure you don’t want to pose with….?”

“NO! I mean, no, I’m good. I’d rather give you a hand……please…..”

“You sure….?” The guy was still hesitant. Why the hell did he ask her if he was withdrawing now. “You don’t want the attention?”

“I’m good behind the scene. Now, give me that.” She practically whipped the camera off his hands “what do you need me to do?”

So she spent the day acting all cool and goofy, assuring everyone she was fine. Even if all her coworkers knew that was a lie, no one found any words to convince her to join the session as a model, not a helper. All that situation left her with the bitter taste of not being worth the attention. How could she ever compare? She could count the times she wore a dress on the fingers of one hands and even then she looked like a kid dressed up in her mother’s gown rather than a grown-up women she was. This was a disaster every time. So maybe she was not worth any attention?

With dark thoughts she came to the manor. Normally she would tell everyone to fuck off and leave her alone, but Dick was quite persistent, trying to bribe her with some new tech ideas Bruce came up with and with which he needed some help. So, despite her attitude she changed her plans of sitting in front of Netflix with some ice cream.

“Y/N!” Dick opened the door, beating anyone else in it and hugged her closely in welcome “you look sad. Is everything all right?

“Peachy” she muttered, looking like a storm cloud “where are those new gadgets?”

“Straight to the business, huh? How about we try to wipe that frown off your face first?”

“Listen to me very carefully now, boy wonder. If you don’t cut on your sunshine and rainbow attitude I swear I’m gonna shove your smile up your ass. See who will be wiping what then.” Dick’s eyes widened in surprise. Y/N was known for being fast talker and having harsh tongue, but this?

“Um…. All right, then…..” he muttered “let’s go to the cave. Guys are already there.”

“All of them?”

“Yes? Why? Does that bother you?”

“No. I’m actually glad. Plenty of people to pick up the fight with.”

“Y/N, are you sure you are ok?”

“I swear to god if one more person ask me this question today I will draw blood!” she exclaimed making Dick jump away and raise his hands in surrender. Shit, she was more angry than Jason when he first came out of the Pit. Grayson had a bit of experience with angered girls and knew well enough this was no joke. It was better to just keep his mouth shut. Perhaps, Jason or Tim would be able to calm her down, but he’d rather live some more. “Now, move Grayson! I don’t have all day!”

“What’s with the sad face?” Tim asked the second she walked through the entrance to the cave

“HOW ABOUT WE FOCUS ON THE TECH!?” Dick chimed in, before Y/N could answer meeting with a surprised (Tim), condescending (Damian) and amused (Jason) looks of his brothers. He exhaled deeply. “That’s why we are gathered here, right?”

“Damn it, Grayson. You sound like you were about to officiate a wedding. Should we know about something?” Damian smirked and looked at Jason and then at Y/N, who was now red like a tomato, clenching her fists. “Um…. Y/N?”

“Can. we. Just. Focus. On .The .Work” she hissed through clenched teeth moving towards the table where the tech was displayed, the boys moving out of her way. Even Jay, who usually had his ways of making her chill now just let her pass, his mouth agape. None of them has ever seen her this angry.

“What did you do to her, Dickhead?” he hissed towards his brother

“Nothing. She came here like this.” Dick tried to defend himself

“Can you two just shut the fuck up!?”

“Sorry Y/n.”

“Yeah, sorry, babe. But if you want to talk then……”

“SHUT UP JASON!”

“All right, all right, I’m gonna be quiet from now on…..” he mumbled, looking down, acting like a beaten dog. Normally the rest of the boys would laugh at him for being like this, but at this point even Damian knew better than to mess with the force of nature Y/N became.

There were silence for like five minutes, before Steph and Cass entered the cave, followed by Babs.

“Y/N!” Steph jumped forward and hugged her friend, causing boys to go through a little heart attack “Alfred told us you are here. It’s wonderful. We are going shopping. You need to join us. I saw this cute little outfit that would be just perfect for you. I bet Jay would like you in it and …..” oh, poor Steph did not get to finish

“AGH!” Y/N yelled at the top of her lungs. “I’M DONE! I’M OUT! JUST LEAVE THE FUCK ALONE!” the tears finally started to fall down her face, since she was not able to hold them back anymore “I just can’t…. I can’t …. I’m sorry guys….” Her voice broke and she rushed off the cave blindly, not caring about the gadgets, the scene she was making, the tears or anything else. She felt like she was suffocating when she run upstairs, towards the manor, further away from all the people.

“What…. what just happened?” Babs stuttered “what the hell did you do?” her accusatory gaze landed on each of the boys separately

“I did nothing!” Tim exclaimed “Ask you boyfriend, Oracle!”

“Dick?”

“Oh, come on. Why do you always suspect me? I had nothing to do with it. Jay is supposed to take care of her so….”

“Speaking of you, Jason. Why are you still here?! Run after her, before she does something stupid!”

“Do you think she can…..?”

“Just go, you dumbass!”

“Oh, yeah, right.” He slowly threw his shock off “Oh, fuck! You’re right! Y/N! Y/N, wait!”

‘Did I say something wrong?” Steph gaze was fixed on the floor, her voice barely above the whisper “I did not mean to…..” Cass just took a step forward and put a hand on her shoulder reassuringly.

“You didn’t. I bet she just had a bad day or something like that…. She’s been nervous and stressed for a while now.”

“Guys” Babs was already searching through the web “I think I know what might have caused it.”

***

At the same time, Y/N was sitting in her favorite spot on the manor roof, slowly calming down. Legs bend and hugged to her chest, chin resting on the knees, hands hidden in the sleeves of her sweatshirt. She was a bit ashamed of the scene that she caused. Poor Steph was probably blaming herself now. Poor Dick who was verbally attacked by her. Poor Jason who….

“Safe to enter?” …. who was just slowly moving towards her, cautious of every step.

“Sure…” she muttered, not looking at him.

He plumped on the floor next to her, legs crossed, not saying a word, waiting for her to start speaking, But the second she opened her mouth to let it all out her phone chimed. The message she received contained the photos that were made barely a couple hours earlier.

“Well, that was fast…” she muttered rubbing her eyes, irritated from the crying.

“What happened? Who do I shoot?” Jay asked using the opportunity of her distraction and grabbing her hand in his.

“Possibly me.” she smirked “I did some stupid things today.”

“Really? Stupid?” he smirked “I bet no one noticed. You act so normal.”

“You’re an idiot” she cuffed his arm and chuckled which made her hiccup

“Then we match each other, right?”

“Don’t push it, Jaybird.” She warned moving closer and leaned her head on his shoulder, his arm automatically wrapped around her waist pulling her closer shielding her from the wind. It was cold and he did not want her to get sick.

“If I do I give you permission to push me off this roof.” He laughed kissing the top of her head “Tell me what happened. Seriously Y/N. As much as I love you with all that fire we need to put it out before it burns you.”

“It’s better now…..”

“No. Talk.”

“How about I show you?” she reached for her phone and presented the photos to him “you see that?”

“A photo of your work friends?”

“There was a photoshoot at the work today and…..”

“So where are you in this picture?” he frowned taking the phone from her hands and blowing the picture up. “what did you do?” the girl mumbled something inaudibly “Y/N? I can’t hear you. What. Did. You. Do?”

“I hid.”

“What?! Why?!”

“Oh, come on, Jay…..”

“Don’t tell me it’s because of your size, again. We’ve been through it.”

“It’s not about the size. “

“Then what.” he tightened his grip on her and she winced “I’m not letting you go until you confess.”

“I’m not hot, all right? I mean, look at them. They are all exceptional. And I’m wearing a hoodie, torn jeans and sneakers, Jay.”

“So what?”

“So what? Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. What is the problem with your clothes?”

“I…..” she hesitated for a while, blinking in surprise “but …..” how was she supposed to put in into words “isn’t that what all the guys want?”

“Meaning?” he narrowed his head. This bastard knew exactly where her words were heading and yet did nothing to make it easier.

“A girl who captures attention? Don’t you want to brag about catching a babe? A chick? I don’t know…. Don’t you wish to have a lady in the street and a freak in the sheets? I’m not like this.I am totally average. Vanilla. Boring. Ordinary. “

“Baby….”

“Look, I’m fully aware I’m not the person who catches attention, all right? Not… looking like this. Sometimes I even believe your family pities me. And you too. I mean, have you seen the girls that were lining up to talk to Dick and you at the latest gala? Isn’t that what you want?”

“Will you just shut up?” he leaned to her and cut her race of though with the most gentle and delicate kiss that got her melting on the spot “Come here.” He twisted positions slightly, pulling her on his lap, grabbing on her hips while her hands locked on his neck. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Is that a tricky question?”

“Obviously. Let me rephrase it then. You did lose your mind. Do think you are undesirable?”

“I….”

“Do you think I would toss you away because of a girl wearing mini skirt? The girl that I don’t know? Do you have so little faith in me?”

“In men, in general.” She bit on her lip and hissed when Jason pinched her side “Auch!”

“Well you deserved it for having such silly thoughts. You read too much fanfiction.”

“I don’t….” she objected turning red.

“Don’t deny it. I know you do. Look, all those stories? They are highly overdrawn. They make girls believe than guys only want them if they are skinny, flawless and wear nothing.” He shook his head ”I don’t mind lingerie, but that does not mean I don’t love in you in that damn hoodie you mentioned. Or a simple T-shirt. Preferably mine.” He smirked ”Look Y/N, I know you don’t feel comfortable in dresses or anything like that and I don’t mind. You are the hottest to me when you have that spark in your eyes, when your hair are tousled because your mind is racing. I love you in trainers, when you run the streets searching for a new story. I would never, never want you to wear mini or an revealing top if it’s uncomfortable. Did you think you can only capture my attention this way? With thong and lack of bra? That I would fall for an exposed body?”

“I…..” she started but realized something “Wait. How do you know so much about fanfiction, Jay?” she grinned. Darn, she was so going to use that in the future.

“Did you? Yes or not?” he didn’t even stutter, keeping his cool.

“Yes.”

“Auch!” he gasped “Really?”

“I’m sorry. I just got insecure….”

“I know. And I forgive you. But only because I love you, you silly one. And because I know a lot about insecurities. First handed.” he kissed her nose gently “Now, promise me, this was the first and last time you doubted yourself.”

“I don’t like empty promises.”

“Well then you leave me no choice but to make you….” once again he captured her lips in his, ready to be convincing her for the rest of the day, evening and even the rest of his life if needed.

She was his one and only.

@pinksirensong

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qwimchii · 9 months

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I love this last chapter sooooo much! Adding additional mildly complex side characters and focusing on the MCs feelings and shit- IM A NASTY LITTLE RAT FOR TS!!!!! It's world building; it gives so much more depth and reasoning and helps you put yourself in the MCs position. Obviously, I love Ghost, and that's why I started this series, but I can only continue reading a series if the writing is good. Having an important moment of development that focuses on the MC without the romantic interest just- UGH it feeds my spirit. I could rant on how much I love the way you wrote this last chapter, but just know I think you could publish a book and have a successful career. Submit to a contest and see how it goes because I just think your writing is great. I'm a sucker for detail, and you're just a great writer.

AAHSHDFLSJFEL IJ PLEASE THIS WONDERFUL SWEET ESSAY YOU HAVE COMPOSED—

crying. 😭😭i love you 😭

i would so submit my ff to a writing contest except for the fact that smut is sort of an integral part of the storyline smh

BUT IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE THE MAIN CHARACTERSSS sometimes i get nervous adding them bc its like hello?? who is this?? but im a sucker for character development and sometimes reader just needs little nudge and funky side characters are funnn to writteeee....

but anyways yea im so glad you liked it and thank you so much for reading <333 💞💞

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jaesvelvet · 3 years

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jealousy jealousy — kim junkyu

words: 1.7k words

warning: grammartical errors,idk what i write does it make sense? reader being insecure!

pairing: junkyu+fem reader

notes: i want to publish my jihoon's ff but i haven't finish it yet since my school is starting soon😭 anyway this ff inspired by olvia rodrigo's song, jealousy jealousy (remember you're beautiful just like the way you are!!!🤍)

you couldn't help but grinned as you step into the famous YG building. it feels like a dream come true. you used to be a trainee in a small company for 5 months before decided to left, you realized that you didn't have the talent to be an idol, you're just average on everything, that's all. you gasped when you saw a huge screen in front of the escalator playing blackpink's mv on the screen. YG is that rich exactly like the news said.

"y/n!"

you turn, grinning widely at junkyu, who from the convenience store with some snacks on both of his hands. you waved at him and junkyu laugh in response

"i'm sorry for being late," he said, handing some bread to you

"no it's okay i just got here," you said

you and junkyu are best friends since high school, you're the one who supported junkyu's journey to debut, and junkyu was grateful to have a friend like you, junkyu always convince you to audition at YG but you refused since you now want to focus on your studies. but after junkyu accidentally saw a book full of lyrics song at your desk, he forced you to record one of the songs in his studio and release it on soundcloud so junkyu could promote the song to his fans.

of course, you reject the offer saying you can't sing and you don't want any attention in the university. a medical science student releases a song on a soundcloud, out of the blue, and treasure junkyu promoted her music?? no way!

however junkyu being junkyu, he didn't give up and keep encouraging you to record one of your songs, you didn't need to prepare anything just bring the lyrics and yourself, and the rest, he will work on it. after weeks tried to convince the you, you finally agreed with one term; which is junkyu need to buy you food. a lot of food.

"okay so here it's my studio, um it isn't something to brag about since half of the members have their studio," he said, opening the door of his studio showing his messy studio with a big portrait of treasure on the wall.

"you should clean your studio if you want to impress a girl kyu" you joked, getting a whine from junkyu mumbling that he would never see the world again if he brings a 'girlfriend' over.

junkyu pressed something on his keyboard and bass sound came out, making you flinch, the instrument that junkyu creates is mellow and kinda strident? as soon as you heard the instrument you know which lyrics from your lyrics book would go along and make a perfect song

"i have a perfect song for this" you excited, taking out your black notebook and turn to a back page—clearly the lyrics are fresh from the oven.

"okay i'm gonna play it and you sing the lyrics okay?"

you nodded and sing a little bit of the lyrics

"i kinda wanna throw

my phone across the room

'cause all i see are girls

too good to be true"

"woah! it's perfect" junkyu gasped, amazed at how the instrument he made suits perfectly with your lyrics. you smile, you didn't suprised much since you know how much passion junkyu has in music.

"okay now you eat first, i'm gonna rearrange the lyrics to suit with the melody," he said and get a nod from you. you eat the bread that junkyu bought for you, you also eyeing the studio, it's kinda cold in here cause the space not too big and they put a big ass aircond on top of you.

junkyu notice your quiver, he rolled his eye when you only wearing a thin black shirt material, he scoffs before handing you his pink hoodie that he left in the studio yesterday.

"i won't turn off the aircond so you must wear this hoodie, it's been a week since i wash it," he said in a teasing voice, you frown yet you have no choice to wear the pink treasure hoodie or else, you're gonna die in this cold studio.

you sigh in relief when the hoodie warms your cold body, you side-eyeing junkyu who looks so serious rearrange the lyrics, you then click on the instagram icon, you felt blue as you saw haeri post on your feed— haeri is a popular rich girl in your university, you and her once assigned in a group for an assignment and she is very kind and open about her opinions, she also very serious when it comes to study/work and she is pretty, to your eyes she is like a goddess. she is so pretty, kind, and selfless, and you really lying if you didn't jealous of her. she has a perfect life and you still struggling to get a diploma.

you slowly pressed the screen twice, liking a picture of haeri; wearing a beanie and a mask in a cafe without posing too much, getting 2 thousand likes within 1 hour. you wonder how is it to be like a rich popular pretty girl in university? well, damn sure you will get all of the pretty privileges in your life. you sighed as you realized you're comparing yourself again with haeri. you always remind yourself not to compare yourself to anyone since you're beautiful enough but you can't. the funniest thing is you and haeri didn't even know each other, yet you being so jealous of her life. sometimes you just feel small, you want to be like them.

"y/n!" junkyu shakes your body making you slap his hand

"what!?"

"i called you for like thousand times! you didn't hear me?" junkyu said, stroking his hand that got slapped by you

"oh i'm sorry, im zoning out, you're done rearranging?"

junkyu nodded

"you can listen to the instrument and practice your lyric with it," he said

"okay"

an hour passed, you finally get the tempo, beat, and rhythm right, you grin excitedly as junkyu put the headphones on your head and directing the microphone to you

"you ready?" junkyu asked

"yes i am" with that, junkyu clicked on something and you could hear the instrument, you begin to sing the verse of your song choice.

i kinda wanna throw my phone across the room

'cause all i see are girls too good to be true

with paper-white teeth and perfect bodies

wish i didn't care

you stop singing and look at junkyu curiously making junkyu paused the song and look back at you with a confused look

"why?"

"doesn't singer usually stop singing for producers fix their mistakes?" you asked making junkyu giggle

"yes that's true but you didn't have any mistake, you're doing good, i will pause the music if i have something to fix" he explained, getting an 'oh' from you. you continue singing the song.

i know their beauty's not my lack

but it feels like that weight is on my back

and i can't let it go

com-comparison is killin' me slowly

i think i think too much

'bout kids who don't know me

i'm so sick of myself

i'd rather be, rather be

anyone, anyone else

my jealousy, jealousy started followin' me

started followin' me

as you singing the song that you wrote, junkyu couldn't help but wonder who is the person, you dedicated to? or how you inspired to write this song? this song is obviously about your insecurities about some girl, and you don't even know her! junkyu pout when you felt like this, he knew how insecurities could kill you, back then when he was a trainee he felt insecure with all of the trainees that beat him to debut, he felt he doesn't belong in here but with you and his members on his side, he gained confidence and prove to the world that he is himself and nothing can change that.

all your friends are so cool, you go out every night

in your daddy's nice car, yeah, you're livin' the life

got a pretty face, a pretty boyfriend, too

i wanna be you so bad and i don't even know you

all i see is what u should be

happier, prettier, jealousy, jealousy

all i see is what i should be

i'm losin' it, all i get's jealousy, jealousy

you remove the headphone as soon as the instrument stop playing, you handing the headphone without noticing junkyu's face, chaeyul grabbed the water bottle and drink, her throat felt dry after singing a whole song which you have never done in your life, making you wonder how did singer voice so stable when singing live?

"kyu—oh my god why are you looking at me like that?" you take one step back as you saw junkyu looking at you with frowns on his face, you bit her lips was your singing that terrible?

"sit down here" he ordered, you quickly took a seat beside him without saying anything

junkyu grab your hand and rubs it softly while looking at you with his brown eyes.

"what you see is all fake y/n. she living her best life is what you see what you want, but you didn't see her pain, how hard she must through a day in her life, we didn't know if she struggles behind, you also know you can't compare yourself to others right? you're beautiful" he said

"but, i don't know kyu. i couldn't help but felt all jealous of her, i feel like a total loser" you said

“no y/n, you're not a loser! hear me out, you do great, you beautiful and an amazing person, so why do you need to be insecure to a person you never know? everyone is beautiful on their own, you're an original version of yourself and no one else could be you. you are special and unique, you wouldn't know if someone is jealous of your life, a successful medical student who has a great voice. you need to love yourself more, let yourself shine in your spotlight. trust me popular life wouldn't great as you think" he said

you smile at his words

"thank you kyu, honestly, you're right.i didn't appreciate myself enough this past week, hearing you said that making me feel great about myself, i am me, there's nothing anyone could change about me"

junkyu smile and pat your head

"that's my girl"

#treasure imagines #treasure scenario #treasure yg #treasure junkyu #kim junkyu #junkyu imagines #junkyu scenarios #junkyu fluff #junkyu angst #treaure blurbs

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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

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I don't give a damn

Steve x f!reader

Summary: Sometimes Steve's forgets how times have changed. You're there to sing him a song about it.

Warnings: swearing, drinking, kisses, themes of sexism, i guess spoilers for Annie Get Your Gun (although that's from the 50s so I don't really think it needs much warning lol)

Word Count: 3020

a/n: another karaoke fic (because I wasn't kidding when I said I love them). Most of the songs I've been listening to have come from a playlist aptly titled ffs. It stands for both "for fucks sake" and "feminist fight songs" in my mind, hence the similar theme of this fic and My Name Isn't. This one was inspired by Joan Jett's "Bad Reputation"!

Masterlist

You and Steve don't see eye to eye on most things. It's not that you don't get along. You respect each other too much to fight about everything, but you have differing opinions on most things.

Take movie night for example. Cap always wants to watch something from his list. He's always trying to pick a "classic".

Most of the time, you would rather watch something you haven't seen. Unless it's a comfort thing, you don't really like repeating movies.

You both understand the other's perspective, so rather than a screaming match you typically settle it with a game of rock, paper, scissors.

Unfortunately, that's how most of your interactions go.

Outside of missions and team building nights Tony forces upon the group, you don't spend much time with him. The two of you are just polar opposites.

The problem with that? You have a massive crush on Mr. America himself.

Not that anyone else would know that. You're highly trained in the art of covert operations. You know how to hide your feelings, although you are certain Natasha at least suspects something.

You've resigned yourself to taking this secret to your grave, that is until Cap says something one movie night that sets you on edge.

"Rock, Paper, Scissors, shoot!" You held out your fist, having chosen rock.

Steve smirks, covering your fist with his open palm. "Paper beats rock, time for another 'classic'." He squeezes your hand before letting go. He picks up his book, trailing the pencil down the page for the next movie.

The high you were currently riding from his touch quickly dissipated when he announced the movie he wanted to watch.

"Annie Get Your Gun is next on the list." He smiled, closing the book before returning it to his pocket.

You couldn't help but scoff, "who suggested that one?" Annoyed at the sexist themes of the 50s musical movie.

"Someone said to watch all of the best pictures/musicals from the Academy Awards to see how times have changed." Steve scrunched his face in thought. "I can't remember who though."

"What? Most of those movies are terrible if you ask me." You whined a bit, annoyed at the idea of watching your least favorite type of movies.

"Your just annoyed cause you lost rock, paper, scissors. Let the man cross it off his list and move on." Sam chimed in from across the room.

You huffed, making a face at Sam before turning to get more comfortable on the couch. "Fine, this one still sucks though." You frowned, nonplussed by the idea of watching another 'classic' with another sexist storyline.

Somehow, you sat through the musical without any interruptions, unless you counted aggressively rolling your eyes.

The second it was over, you were turning the TV off, excited to be done with it. You were three steps from the exit when Cap called out to you.

"I don't know why you hate that musical so much, Y/N. I thought it was sweet what Annie did for Frank."

You narrowed your eyes as you turned back to him. "Would you lose on purpose to 'get the girl'?" You couldn't help but roll your eyes at the phrase. "Would any of you?" You looked at all the men in the room.

"I don't think it'd be very fair. Wouldn't want her to think she was better than me if she's not. Besides, it depends on the girl." He may have been going for a flirty tone, but you just grew angrier at Steve's response.

"Right, because why should you have to pretend to be worse to appease someone else?" Everyone in the room could see where you were going with this. Everyone, that is, but Steve.

"Yeah, that's a good way of putting it." Steve nodded along, glad the two of you were finally agreeing on something.

"The why'd you think it was sweet when Annie did it?" You stepped closer, narrowing your eyes even farther. "The whole musical Frank was too stubborn, his ego too big, to deal with the fact that Annie was better than him. 'You can't get a man with a gun'? Bullshit, you could always shoot him." You let out a dry laugh at your own joke, completely fed up with sexism in movies being written off as love.

Steve was taken aback at how everything had shifted. He thought he was finally in agreement with you on something, so he clung to it. "But she did it for love... her reputation, all the medals, they still showed how good she was." Halfway through speaking, he realized he was only making it worse, but it was too late. The damage was done.

"For fuck's sake, she shouldn't have to pretend to be any less of a badass sharpshooter than she is to find love." With another roll of your eyes, you went to leave, stopping again at the sound of Steve's voice.

"Maybe she was just scared she wouldn't find anyone with that reputation." He nearly smacked himself for that one, why couldn't he just shut up? He just didn't want you to be mad at him.

With one hand on the doorway, you looked over your shoulder. "That reputation? I'd rather have that reputation than a relationship where I have to feed his ego." With that, you walked to the elevators, beyond ready to call it a night.

"I'm an idiot." Steve sighed, head in his hands, elbows on his knees while sitting on Bucky's bed.

"Yep. You just kept digging." Bucky agreed easily, not sure where to start with the advice.

Steve shot him a glare as he began pacing back and forth. "I mean, she clearly didn't like the movie. Why did I even start the conversation? I should have just let her walk away. She already barely tolerates my presence as it is. We disagree about everything, even if we rarely fight over it. I should've just cut my losses and enjoyed the time we spent together, even if it was with everyone."

"Punk, you need to relax. Just go apologize, then maybe you'll actually go to sleep at some point tonight." Bucky shoved Steve out the door, slamming it shut before he could object.

Mumbling about what a jerk Bucky is, Steve made his way to your door. He hesitated, turned around, walked a few steps, turned around again, and eventually knocked.

You opened the door with a yawn, having been close to sleep when the noise startled you. "What d'ya need, Cap?"

He couldn't help but smile at your sleepy state, never having seen you this unguarded before. "Uh, I just wanted to apologize for earlier. You're entitled to your opinion, and there was no reason for me to fight you on it."

A look of annoyance briefly flashed across your face at the mention of the movie, but you relaxed given his apology. "I'm glad we can agree then. It's a terrible movie."

"Oh, no, I still like the movie." He had never wanted the ground to swallow him whole more than he did in that moment. Floundering for a way to undo what he just said, he started rambling. "I mean, you're right. It is kind of sexist, but that was just the time period you know? Like in the 40s, dames had to constantly worry about how their actions would affect their reputations." Up to that point, he had been staring at the floor, rapidly spewing more words. "I mean, you wouldn't want a bad reputation, right?" He chose the wrong sentence to make eye contact.

The sleepy, slightly confused smile was gone, replaced by a look he had hoped to never have directed at him. You spoke with an eerie sort of calm when you replied. "I think you're a little stuck in the 40s, Cap. I shouldn't have to worry about my reputation anymore than any man does his. Goodnight."

For the second time that night, a door slammed in his face. Bucky was definitely wrong. He would not be getting any sleep after talking to you.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it's karaoke night. Yes, I've rented a bar. No, you may not stay home. We start at 8!" Tony walked in, made his announcement, and instantly walked right back out.

Everyone nodded, taking in the brief encounter with Tony. Well, everyone but you and Steve. The two of you were too stuck in your heads to listen to Tony's ramblings.

It had been three days since movie night, and Steve still hadn't worked up the courage to talk to you again.

What could he even say to explain why he was so flustered? "Sorry for the other night, I can't seem to form coherent thoughts when I'm around you, because even though we rarely talk outside of missions, I have a massive crush on you"? No, that was definitely coming on too strong.

He just needed to find the right words.

Meanwhile, you were confused. You never would have imagined Steve to be so stuck in the past. Of course, you understood things were different before he got stuck in the ice, but he's really made leaps and bounds in his understanding of feminism and equality since he first realized what year it was.

You wanted to ask him where the whole speech came from, but you were afraid of the answer.

"I guess that means it's time to get ready since it's already 6:30! I swear, he never gives us enough notice for these things." Wanda smiled at Vision, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, before grabbing you and Nat to go change.

"What are we getting ready for?" You asked when Wanda finally let go of your arm, having entered the elevator.

"Karaoke! Didn't you her Tony?" She eyed you suspiciously, clearly debating whether or not to look into your mind.

"She was too stuck in her head to notice me throwing popcorn at her, she definitely didn't listen to Tony." Nat smirked at your startled expression, laughing when you reached up to brush the kernels out of your hair.

You glared at both of them, "I was just thinking about some stuff. That's all."

"Yeah, some stuff named Steve." Wanda cackled, having decided to peak into your head. It was for your own good after all.

"Wanda! You said you wouldn't read my mind unprovoked." You wanted to be angry, but part of you was relieved you wouldn't have to keep this secret anymore.

"It was provoked! You wouldn't tell me what you were thinking about." Wanda smiled, also knowing that you were happy to have shared the secret, even if not by choice.

"And don't try to change the subject. Steve, huh? Somebody's got a crush." She was taunting you like a child would on a playground, shaking her head back and forth for emphasis.

"Well, yeah, but that's not what I why I was thinking about him." They each gave you a pointed look, obviously not believing you. "Seriously! I was thinking about movie night." You frowned, upset at the memory.

You quickly filled them in on what Steve said when he came to talk to you as you made your way to Nat's room to get ready. (She has the biggest vanity, so it makes the most sense to go to her room).

"I can't picture Steve trying to defend himself like that. Normally if he's fallen back into his old ways, someone points it out and he apologizes." Nat made a face, trying to put two and two together. "Unless..." She looked at Wanda, gesturing for her to read her mind.

"Oh my god!" Wanda squealed, nearly knocking you over with her excitement. "Steve's got a crush, toooooo." She happily dragged it out, much to Nat's amusement.

"Please, the man barely talks to me as it is. Our most substantial conversation revolved around my 'bad reputation' or lack thereof." You couldn't help but roll your eyes at the memory. "I seriously doubt he's got a crush. I do want to fix this though. I don't like when people are avoiding me. I get all stressed about accidentally running into them."

"He totally has a crush." Wanda smiled again.

"It's the only reason he would turn into a rambling idiot in front of you." Nat added.

"What song should I sing tonight?" You desperately tried to change the subject.

Wanda smirked, already having a perfect song in mind. "I think I've got one that could solve both your problems..." She filled you and Nat in on her plan, and although you doubted the crush aspect of it all, it was a good way to break the ice in terms of Steve avoiding you.

Hopefully it would show him you were more confused than upset, and everything would work out.

You changed quickly, embracing 80s fashion to go with your song choice. You wore black leather pants and a matching jacket, slipping on a tight red shirt underneath. Although, you still did your hair like you normally would, not fully committing to the 80s vibes.

With the addition of some red lipstick, a rarity for you, you were ready. Wanda and Nat finished their looks as well, and the three of you left for the bar.

You were honestly a little surprised when Steve walked up to you immediately after you walked into the bar. He handed you your favorite drink, smiling as he took in your ensemble.

"I wanted to apologize. I didn't mean all that stuff I said, just sometimes I forget how much things have changed and I-" You cut him off, not wanting him to suffer (or ramble) too much.

"Steve, it's fine. I was honestly more confused than anything else." He smiled, taking a sip from the drink he provided you.

"Really? You definitely looked angry when you slammed the door in my face." He outwardly cringed at bringing it up again.

"Okay, I was angry at first, but then I was mostly confused." You nodded, trying to convey that you weren't upset with him anymore.

"Good. I'm glad because avoiding you was getting pretty difficult." He wanted to smack himself again. Why does he always say the stupidest things around you?

To his relief, you laughed at his 'joke'. "Plus, this makes my song choice even more fun." You winked before walking back over to Wanda and Nat, leaving Steve to wonder about your performance.

"Y/N! You're up next." Tony called from his seat near the stage. He really liked to enforce his 'everyone must participate in team building, that's how it becomes team building' philosophy when it comes to karaoke night.

You couldn't help but smirk at Steve as he whipped his head around to witness you walking onto the stage. He's been eagerly awaiting your performance.

Everyone who knew the song started laughing at the first sounds of the guitar. The two super soldiers though? They were confused.

"I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation."

Once you started singing, you couldn't take your eyes off of Steve. He was blushing at being called out, Bucky's hysterical laughter next to him not really helping the situation.

"Living in the past, it's a new generation."

Bucky nearly fell out of his chair laughing. Even Steve had a smile on his face. You bobbed your head to the music, relying on your previous drinks to really get into the performance.

"A girl can do what she wants to do, and that's what I'm gonna do. And I don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation. Oh no, not me."

You put air quotes around bad, really playing it up since everyone was having so much fun with it. Tony, Nat, Wanda, and Sam were jumping around, dancing as you sang. Bucky was still trying to catch his breath from laughing so hard. Steve was full on grinning by the last chorus, slightly shaking his head at your antics.

"So, why should I care about a bad reputation, anyway?"

In typical Tony fashion, he saing along for the "oh no, not me" bit of the song, encouraging everyone to scream the words with him.

By the time the song was over, you were a little out of breath, sweating a bit from the lights.

"Now's your chance, punk. Go bring her another drink." Bucky shoved the glass in his hand and gave Steve a slight push in your direction as you walked off the small stage.

You hugged Nat and Wanda before making your way toward the bar. Steve intercepted you, handing you the freshly made drink.

You smiled, uttering a quick thanks before eagerly taking a sip. The cold liquid did wonders for your parched throat.

"That was quite the performance. Really called me out 'on my bullshit' as you would say." You couldn't help but laugh and tease him a bit more.

"Captain, language!" You placed your empty hand on his shoulder, sliding down to his chest with your next question. "Whatever will the world think of you?"

"Well, recently I've adopted a new motto." He whispered, leaning in closer so you could here. "I don't give a damn 'bout my reputation."

Caught off guard by his use of the lyric, you laughed, leaning into your hand on his chest for support.

"Something we agree on then." Your breath caught in your throat when you realized just how close he was.

"I think there's one more thing we agree on..." He trailed off, eyes quickly glancing down at your lips.

"What might that be, Cap?" Your eyes drifted down his face as well, giving him enough courage to lean in.

His lips caught yours in a passionate kiss. He pulled you closer as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The two of you moved in sync, as if you were made for each other.

You were so lost in each other, you paid no attention to the cheers from your teammates. You didn't even register Nat and Wanda screaming "I told you so" as Steve pulled you in for a second kiss.

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america #marvel fic #marvel

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tinacentury · 3 years

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20 Questions Writer’s Edition

Thanks, @kasienda! You know I’m a sucker for these types of games, and this was a good escape during what has been kind of a crappy week :).

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

13, although it’s more like 9 since four of those are in one collection before I knew how to organize stuff on Ao3.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

69,932.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Just the one, Sailor Moon from 2018 until now. I also wrote Sailor Moon fic in the early 2000s, but thankfully none of that is connected to my current accounts.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I don’t super duper like looking at kudos as a measure of success (possibly because mine are relatively low, but here it is):

1. Familial Eyes (this surprised me a bit)

2. Belonging (this did not surprise me at all)

3. Contrition (yes, this checks out)

4. My Own Little Stage: A Collection of Prompts (super proud to see this one here)

5. Lemonade Stand (yes people like smut)

5. Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

On Ao3, yes, I try to (ff is a very different and clunky story). I do it for a few reasons: I made my first fandom friends that way, and, as much as I don’t have a ton of time at the moment, I do still think forming relationships, even small ones, with people across the world based on a niche shared interest is cool. Second, I know that it can sometimes feel like you’re taking a risk when you put yourself out there and get met by radio silence. I don’t think responses to comments are owed because I’m very big on everyone setting their own boundaries for participation in fandom, but I think they’re nice, so I try to do it when I can.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

It’s probably a tie between

-Contrition

-Day 3/Memory from usamamo week 2019

-“I thought you knew” from My Own Little Stage

7. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Probably Belonging. I was going for fluff with a happy ending, and it’s got probably the most traditional plot arc of anything I’ve written.

8. Do you write crossovers? If yes, what’s the craziest thing you’ve written?

Lol absolutely not.

9. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nothing terrible, but occasionally something like “this is boring.” Which, ok? Don’t read it, then. I did get some meaner stuff on my old fics back in the day, which I probably why I, to this day, deflect by saying how bad those were up front. However, Kasienda once pointed out that I should probably be nicer to middle school me who was writing full-length stories in her spare time. Anyway, I’ve wondered before how I would react to hate on a fic. I did once get Tumblr hate about my family, and that really fucked with me for a few days where I withdrew and just didn’t engage in internet life. So, would I react that way? I’d like to think no, that I would definitely be upset, but not to that extent. I suspect that my initial response would be to snarkily straight-up feed the troll, which could possibly backfire but also be a fair amount of fun until it did. TBH I might also be so preoccupied with other stuff that I’d be like “Ok, mean internet stranger. Fuck off; I have more important things to worry about.” It probably helps that, given how I’ve seen the fandom respond to other hate, I think they’d have my back.

10. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I don’t write a lot of it, but yes, occasionally. Lemonade Stand is my most explicit work, but there’s some light stuff in What Wasn’t Said and My Own Little Stage. I’m technically “working” on another smut piece right now, but it’s not a huge priority while I’m working to finish my dissertation.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t think so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Lol oh god, no. Control issues. Fic not being a priority, etc. I’d like to say that I’m not opposed, but I think it would be a recipe for a whole lot of extra unnecessary stress for this hobby.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Usagi and Mamoru, Sailor Moon

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

Ha! I almost answered 5 Years out of habit, but then I remembered I actually did finish that one. Given my style, I don’t actually have any unfinished WIPs. Whether I write a Contrition sequel one day is a little touch and go, but I do still want to.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I’d like to think describing emotions and dialogue, but you tell me?

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

I’m sure others would say something like dedication here, but meh, hobby, so I’m not going to categorize that as a weakness. But here are some others:

-a compulsive need for reassurance. I swear part of my writing process used to be sending almost everyone I talked to in the fandom an “omg I’m so bad at this, I’m never going to write as well as XYZ big name author” message, but I think it was me crossing the line between “I’m venting to a friend” and “validate me because I’ve attached my self-worth to this”. This is an issue in my life, too, and I’ve noticed that, as I’ve worked through it there (team weekly therapy!), it’s been less of an issue here. I think it’s ok and probably still necessary to want reassurance sometimes, and definitely to talk about your writing with your friends and get advice when it’s needed, but there’s a line between that and what I feel is kind of a toxic pattern I was in that was doing me more harm in the long run. I will admit that I’ll still fall into this a little bit when I think about number of reviews/attention in the fandom. I’ve had multiple people mention before that I get fewer reviews or broadly less acclaim (that seems like a strong and arrogant word lol) than others in the fandom, and the explanations of “you don’t write as much” and “you don’t write enough multi-chapters” don’t always fully check out, so my brain will naturally go to “because you’re not as good at it as they are.” But when I’m feeling ok about myself, I can respond to that with something like “I am objectively somewhat confident in my ability to write, and if my style isn’t to someone’s taste, that’s not necessarily a knock on my skill.” I read a lot outside of the fandom, and thinking about things in that context helps, too — seeing it as a preference thing rather than a judgement of talent thing. There are a lot of popular, published authors that aren’t my taste, but that’s not me disparaging their skill/some of my favorite authors aren’t for everyone, and that’s ok, too.

-I sometimes struggle with connecting between scenes. Like I’ll have these two separate scenes in my head or even written, but it’s hard to connect them without them feeling clunky

-plot. There’s a reason a lot of my work is relatively short. I get a bit overwhelmed by multi-chapter planning and plotting. I wonder if part of it is a mental block because the one long multi chapter I wrote in middle school literally took me a few years (I think from 2000-2002 maybe?), and the idea of something like that hanging over my head stresses me out. It would probably be helpful to think about multi chapters like Belonging, which took maybe 2 months. But 1) one of those months was March 2020, so I’m not sure how valid any takeaways from that are and 2) I’m not entirely sure I like that story 😅

18. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in fic?

I’m ok with it when used sparingly and intentionally in a way that is relevant to the plot, tone, or conversation. I think, especially in the early 2000s, there was a lot of “let me show you how many random Japanese words I know” thrown around Sailor Moon fic, but that, thankfully, is less of a thing now. I do think now stuff can sometimes fall into “let me show you how much detail I know about Japanese culture”, which I have mixed feelings about. Like absolutely, I want to see and learn about Japanese culture from fic, and yes, putting things in the proper cultural context is critical. But, to be blunt, I’m just wary of white people being ambassadors/mouthpieces for other cultures without realizing how their own cultural biases seep into their work. At the same time, I certainly don’t want people to feel like they shouldn’t write and shouldn’t include elements of culture because they haven’t done a whole thesis on Japanese culture. Personally, my solution has been to work cultural aspects in where I can and especially where not doing so would be particularly egregious, but I’m certainly not going to pretend my work is the place to go to learn about Japanese culture or that my Western cultural perspective doesn’t color everything I do. I’m about to be an ambassador for my former career (as a study abroad advisor) here, but I love when an author who has studied/worked/lived in Japan seamlessly has elements or culture in their work. I can’t speak for them, but I suspect that it would be harder not to, having actually lived the culture. Anyway I digress. I like Japanese language in fic when used intentionally to enhance the story rather than to show off, and you can pry honorifics from my cold, dead hands because I’m a sucker for when those change between Usagi and Mamoru.

19. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

I’ve only ever written for Sailor Moon, and mostly only read for that, too (except for one side quest into a reading a Mandalorian fic because Pedro Pascal)

20. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

This is difficult. I’m really proud of some of the prompts in My Own Little Stage that I wrote this summer. Domino and Contrition are up there as favorites, too.

I tag @queenrisa14, @idesofnovember, @daikon1, @floraone, @moonlightusa, @angelmoongirl, @ninjettetwitch, @allyunabridged, and anyone else who wants to play :)

#sailor moon fanfiction #tumblr gamea #writing asks

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xero013 · 1 year

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Happy Valentine's Day 🚇⚡

(Thank you for 100+ followers! (*´ω｀*) )

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justkindaoverhereobsessing · 4 years

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the second time around

In which Tony has a late-night chat with a baby that can’t understand him.

Friend drabble series part five, for @ocheabutter.

Also on AO3 and ff. ________________

“So we saved a few things that were spared / and brought it to the ground / cause you always built it better / the second time around.”

—”Build it Better” by Aron Wright

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When the baby wakes again only thirty minutes after his last feeding, Tony tiredly waves Ziva back to the mattress and gets up himself. There’s no way Adam is hungry again, so there’s nothing that Ziva can do that Tony can’t. She might as well sleep.

Tony needs to talk to Adam anyway.

He rolls stiffly out of bed and ambles down the hall, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Adam’s cries are increasing in volume by the second and the last thing Tony wants is for Tali to wake up, so he hurries, trying to shake himself out of the fifteen minutes of sleep he just got.

When he reaches the nursery, he finds Adam red-faced and angry, frustrated after being ‘ignored’ for approximately thirty seconds. Sighing, Tony gently scoops up his three-month old son and moves to the rocking chair in the corner of the room.

“Shh,” he murmurs, cradling Adam’s tiny head in the crook of his arm and bouncing him slightly as they settle in. “There’s nothing to worry about. It’s all just fine, little man.”

When Adam still doesn’t settle after a few minutes of rocking—he’s not outright crying anymore, but he’s still making little whimpering noises, clearly displeased—Tony stands back up. A quick sniff of Adam’s diaper reveals nothing notable, so Tony gives Adam a pacifier, re-settles the baby in his arms, and starts to pace. Walking will usually get Adam to sleep, even if he’s trying hard to fight the rest his little body needs.

They go out into the hall and start the short trek from one end to the other, crossing the same path over and over until Adam quiets. Tony keeps walking, though, stifling a yawn or two—Adam isn’t actually back to sleep yet, and if Tony puts him back in his crib now, he’ll only start crying again.

Tony notices after a few minutes that Adam’s half-closed eyes are focused on his father’s face, and despite his general exhaustion, Tony finds himself smiling. “There now,” he murmurs, starting to gently stroke the baby’s downy hair with his other hand. “Everything was fine, just like I said, nothing to cry about. It’s not so bad, right? I’ve got you, buddy—I’ve always got you.”

Adam smiles, happy to be spoken to, and Tony laughs. “You’re just too damn cute, aren’t you?”

Adam makes a little noise—not whining this time, just talking—and Tony’s heart softens further. “I know what you mean,” he agrees, his voice low but conversational. “You’re exactly right.”

There’s something about talking to a baby, Tony has found, that’s almost like speaking into a church confessional. It’s relieving to talk to a human who just can’t understand, who won’t judge or interrupt or later repeat what he says to others. Even if the baby falls asleep while listening, he’ll still be there as a comforting presence, light snores punctuating pained sentences and confessions that are usually confined to the darker places of his parents’ minds or hearts.

(Tony knows Ziva does it, too. He hears her every so often, especially in the small, soft hours of the morning, her voice rising and falling quietly as she explains things to the smallest member of the family. It doesn’t matter that Tony can’t understand Ziva’s Hebrew words—he still makes an effort to tune her out, knowing that what she’s saying isn’t meant for his ears at all.)

Tonight, there’s something on Tony’s mind.

“Do you know what today is, little man?” Tony murmurs as he paces; Adam just watches, gurgling every now and then. “Of course you don’t… but that’s alright, I’ll tell you. Today is the anniversary of the worst day of my life, and one of the best days. You might wonder how one single day can be both so good and so awful—sometimes I wonder that myself—but life just works like that sometimes, all the highs and lows squished in together.”

Tony drops a kiss to the baby’s cheek, fervently appreciative of the fact that he’s here and now in this moment of quiet, exhausted peace.

“Seven years ago today, Adam, I was at work, far away from here—I was in Washington. You haven’t been yet, but you’ll love it there. Anyway, I was at my desk, totally unaware that my life was about to change, when we saw on the news that your mama was dead. Of course, she wasn’t, but at the time, she needed everyone to think she was.

“I gotta tell you, buddy, that newscast hurt like nothing else. It’s so strange when you love someone with all your heart, and maybe you don’t ever even tell them, because you know and they know and everyone knows… and then all of the sudden, they’re gone, just like you never loved them at all. And you wonder if you should have said those words you never said, don’t you? It’s the hardest thing in the world, stopping yourself from second-guessing.

“I never really had time to second guess, though, not that day… because right after I learned what happened to Ima, I learned I had a daughter. That’s right, little man—I met Tali the same day I lost your mother. And I was scared—Adam, I was terrified. I had no idea how to take care of a toddler, much less one that didn’t speak any English. She learned, of course, and I did, too, but that day… I don’t think I’d ever felt so much at once. Somehow, my heart was broken and doubled in size at the same time.

“Little did I know how much there was left to feel, though. It’s been a rollercoaster, buddy. I got Ziva back eventually, of course—that’s where you came into things—and now we’re all together, all four of us. Those first days after I got Tali, though, those first weeks… I hope you never have to know how badly it hurts to miss someone that…” he sighs, wondering how to describe grief to a baby when it’s something he only barely understands as an adult. “I hope you never lose someone whose face is your whole heart, whose voice is the only sound you’ve ever wanted to hear.”

Adam doesn’t answer, and in fact, his little eyes are opening up more slowly after each successive blink. Tony estimates the baby will be asleep in sixty seconds or less and, full of affection, he gently traces Adam’s features with one finger.

“I hope your life is free of pain completely, my love. Take it from your dad—life’s a little too short not to go after what you want. Tell people you love them, even if those people are scary little Israeli women who can kill you a million different ways and break your heart in a million more. Because you know what, Adam? Sometimes, that bravery, that second chance… it turns out more beautifully than you ever could have imagined.”

Adam quietly starts to snore, and Tony lets out a tired laugh. “Sweet dreams, son,” he finishes warmly.

He returns the baby to his crib, laying him down and pressing a long kiss to his warm little forehead.

Then it’s back to his own bed where Ziva’s fast asleep. Tony climbs under the quilt behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and fitting himself against the curve of her back. They’ll be up again in a few hours to feed the baby again, and then Tali will be up and chattering a mile a minute and they won’t sleep again for another seventeen years.

Tonight, though, that doesn’t matter. Tonight, things are as far as they can be from that painful day from seven years ago, and that’s all that counts.

You always build it better the second time around.

#ncis #ncis fanfiction #tiva #tivali #tony dinozzo #ziva david #tali david-dinozzo #plus one extra kiddo #cynthia writes stuff too #friend drabble series part five i think?#this one's for ocheabutter #we may never actually talk but i see you reblogging everything i write or create and i APPRECIATE IT #thanks for being a quiet friend and supporter mel <3

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x-rainflame-x · 4 years

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First You Dream- Royai Week Prompt 1, Letter

Rating: PG Genre: Angst/Romance/Fluff Read on AO3 or FF.

Summary: The world is not the only thing Roy is navigating blind.

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Roy held the letter in his bandaged hands, noting the smoothness of the envelope, how it felt cool against his fingertips, the faint indentions of pen strokes rolling and looping under his touch. It was one of those squared, unofficial ones, the kind that didn’t come from the military but from friends and family. For all that he could discern though, he could not tell what it said, or even who sent it.

He missed the days when he was only useless in the rain.

He held it in front of his face, like the words could somehow bypass his blind gaze and be absorbed straight into his brain. When that didn’t work, he sighed and slouched in his chair, tapping the letter idly against his leg.

He waited patiently—or so he thought—but Riza had dropped the stack of papers on the coffee table a while ago with the promise of returning and had not been back since. In her absence, he had grown bored and begun rifling through the mail himself, trying to guess as to their source by touch alone. The long, folded stack had to be the Central Times, and he thought he recognized the weight of a few bills. Another bearing the raised seal of Amestris signaled some sort of work document, but this small, innocuous envelop captured his interest.

Something clanged in the kitchen, drawing Roy’s attention to Riza as she set about making lunch. He was both miffed that he’d been left behind for so long, and that she had left a mystery like this envelope behind unexplained.

Roy was a patient man, but there were so few points of interest in his dark world anymore. One of those points was Riza, and the other was this stupid letter and he wanted answers.

He blatantly, firmly ignored the quiet voice in the back of his head that whispered how helpless he was, needing Riza to read his mail. How long would she put up with that? With any of this?

With a growl, he reached beside him, feeling for the walking stick he’d left propped against the table. He had only been out of the hospital for two weeks, and Riza only one, but she had insisted on using her medical leave to help Roy grow more accustomed to his disability. She was there from sunup until he ordered her home, and she still didn’t leave until Breda or Falman came to take over for the evening. He was growing weary of being babysat, but not of Riza’s company. If he had known she would be in the kitchen for so long, he would have asked to come with her.

Tentatively, he swept the stick in front of him, the narrow end smacking against a piece of furniture he assumed to be the couch, and it took him a moment to map out exactly which direction he needed to go from there. It was strange how being robbed of his sight could suddenly make him a stranger in his own home.

Slowly, he shuffled forward, one sore hand weakly grasping the stick and the letter, the other held in front of him to spare his nose from anymore unfortunate encounters with the walls. He followed his memory and the sounds of garlic chicken sizzling on the stove, becoming more confident when his shins didn’t encounter any obstacles.

Then, something caught against his toe, bending it at a particularly painful angle. He let out a yelp, yanking his foot from the ground reflexively. The quick motion of it set his black world spinning around him and he overcorrected, stumbled, then fell hard to the ground.

“Roy!” Riza’s voice called into the darkness. It was amazing how blackness could spin.

“ ’m fine,” he huffed into the carpet. It wasn’t his first fall, and unfortunately would not be his last. He brought a hand under him, pushing himself up and wincing through the motion as it put pressure on his healing hands. His toe throbbed mercilessly, and he pressed it into the carpet to try to relieve some of the throbbing pain.

Suddenly, Riza was beside him, her soft fingers gripping under his elbow to help him up, the scent of spring and her lavender shampoo emphasizing the closeness of her. He fought down the urge to run his hands through her hair once he was standing again, briefly wondering if she’d worn it up or down today. “Sir, we’ve talked about this.” She sounded completely exasperated, her warm voice rendered raspy by her own healing injuries. “You’re walking too fast.”

“I was in a hurry to be with you,” he said by way of defense. He wished he could see her cheeks tinged with pink at the comment—she was delightfully easy to fluster when she was unprepared— but he had to settle for her weary sigh. She picked up one of his hands in hers, then placed his walking stick into his palm before he got too excited about it.

“And while I’m here picking you up off the floor, the chicken is burning,” she said, grabbing his other hand, and he brightened when she didn’t simply release it. “Come on, Roy.”

He loved the way she said his first name; the intimacy of it, the knowing.

“Wait, I dropped something,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the floor.

Fabric rustled as she bent down, or so he assumed by the way her hand twisted in his. “A letter?” she asked.

“Yes. Who sent it?”

“It says ‘Elric.’ That leaves only a couple of options.”

Roy’s lips quirked at that. He felt an excitement stir in his chest at the thought of the Elric brothers writing. Ed was loath to visit, as any amount of time outside of the hospital was time away from his little brother’s side, and Al would be stuck in the hospital for at least another month if not two. Roy missed them both—even Ed, as annoying as he could be.

“Could you read it?”

“Let me save the chicken first.”

She led him into the kitchen by hand. He heard a chair scrapping tile, then her hands on his shoulders, gently guiding him to sit. He did with the utmost trust, only floundering a bit to find the table’s edge. Paper hissed gently as she set the letter down on the scarred, worn tabletop, then headed back into Roy’s small kitchen.

She puttered around a bit more, and he could picture the way she looked in his mind’s eye; the gentle curve of her spine as she lifted the cast iron skillet from the stovetop, a pale hand brushing her bangs from her eyes as she caramelized carrots in another pan, the light from his kitchen window making her sherry eyes shine.

For all he knew though, it could have been cloudy.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, propping up his elbow and resting his chin on his knuckles. The position hurt his hand though, so he settled for leaning against the edge of the table.

“Just fine, Sir,” she answered.

“You’re not getting lightheaded, are you?”

He could hear the eyeroll in her voice that she was far too dignified to ever physically enact. “I will let you know if I do.”

“Hmm,” Roy hummed in his throat. “I don’t want you working yourself too hard. You’re on medical leave, after all.”

“If you will save me from the strain of picking you up off the floor, it would help tremendously.”

Roy pouted. “Picking on the blind man? That’s pretty low, Lieutenant.”

“So is the floor.”

“Cruel.”

He heard her smirk now, sharp and self-satisfied. “Maybe I will lay off if you eat your lunch without making fun of my cooking.” A sharp thunk indicated a plate being set before him, and she would probably already have cut it up for him into smaller, more manageable pieces. He tried to push away the flush of humiliation that burned his face at the thought and tried to instead relish the fact that she was near, here in his house, almost in the way he always wanted it.

But not like this.

She settled into the chair next to him, ready to intervene if he was unable to feed himself again. After his hands had been run through, his fine motor skills were abysmal at best, and using small utensils like forks or pens sometimes left his hands spasming in such a way that he was unable to continue without assistance.

It was all in all both painful and very embarrassing, another blow to his dwindling dignity, and Riza was the only highlight, even if she had to see him this way.

He heard paper rustling. “It’s from Edward,” she said, a note of hesitancy in her voice.

It took Roy a moment to realize what she was talking about. “The letter?”

“Yes.” More hesitation.

“That bad, huh?”

“. . . worse.”

Was that . . . embarrassment in her voice?

Against all of his better judgement, Roy sighed. “Well, go ahead Lieutenant.”

“Sir,” she said with a great deal of reluctance.

“Dear Colonel Idiot, congratulations on your release from the hospital. It’s been a little quiet without you here to yell at, but Al thinks it’s peaceful. He’s also begging for you to come get me out of his hair for a few hours, but we all know that’s not going to happen.

“You asked for me to update you on Al’s condition. He’s gained eight pounds since you checked out, and his physical therapy is coming along. He says to let you know that he misses you guys and to stop by and visit. As the elder brother, I’d like to revoke that invitation from you specifically. You’re not invited.

“You also asked to be kept in the loop on my progress. They’ve technically released me, though I’ve still got a lot of therapy to go to get my right arm in shape. Either way, I’ll be sticking around the hospital until Al’s out.”

Riza stopped.

“That’s it?” Roy asked. That wasn’t nearly as painful as she’d made it out to be. It was almost polite, by Ed’s standards.

“No, sir,” she said with a sigh. “There is one more paragraph.”

With mounting dread, Roy waited for her to gather herself.

“One last note,” she continued reading. “If you’re reading this, that means you’re having someone else read it to you out loud. I’m going to bet cenz that that someone is the Lieutenant. And if she’s reading it to you aloud and you’ve gotten this far, that means you two are alone, so why don’t you go ahead and confess your love to her already and stop stalling. Most sincerely, Fullmetal.”

The loudest silence Roy had ever heard stretched between them.

Well.

Roy could imagine his face was about four shades of red, and he was almost thankful he couldn’t see Riza’s reaction. His ears were on fire, and he ran his sore hands through his disheveled hair just to give them something to do. “How . . . nice of him to write.”

“Very,” she agreed tersely.

He cleared his throat. “I can’t argue with his sentiments, but his delivery is terrible.”

He wasn’t quite sure what caused him to pursue such a bold course, but something about it felt right, and if he knew anything about navigating disquieting situations, he knew to listen to his gut.

She paused, and he listened carefully, trying to gauge her reaction by sound alone. “Sir,” she protested, “I don’t think it’s appropriate—”

“Fullmetal is a lot of things, but appropriate isn’t one of them.”

“You know what I mean.”

He reached out in front of him, finding her hands and holding them, the same way he might have held her gaze under different circumstances. She resisted his grip only for a second before allowing him to intertwine his aching fingers in between hers. “Riza,” he said. “Fullmetal is an ineloquent buffoon, but he makes a valid point. We’ve got a very unique opportunity here.”

“Sir, the law—”

“Is not going to mind a couple of officers on medical leave sharing a moment of honesty in my kitchen,” he finished softly.

When she didn’t flinch or otherwise shoot him, he continued.

“I understand that I must be quite the sight to behold right now,” he said, trying hard to keep the self-depreciation out of his voice, “but nothing has changed for me. If it weren’t for the law—”

“Don’t.”

Her sudden protest startled him.

Nothing had changed for him, but maybe . . . could things have changed for her?

It had been so long since he’d been alone with her. Between her transfer, and all the fighting and recovery, it seemed like the past few months had been a whirlwind. Maybe at some point during that time, she’d lost interest. He couldn’t blame her, of course. After all, what hope could a blind man possibly have to change the country? How could he keep his promise to her like this?

What if the only reason she was here was out of duty? Some misplaced sense of guilt?

The depression he’d been teetering on the edge of for over two months threatened to swallow him in that moment. He released her hands, then cleared his throat, feeling like a fool and worse. All of the shameless flirting he’d done over the past week . . . no wonder she had been so uncomfortable. “I see. I’m sorry, it seems I’ve . . . misread the situation.”

There was movement from her chair, then it came closer and he could smell lavender again. “You have not misread anything,” she said, and she must have been mere inches in front of his face, her warm, sweet breath brushing against his lips.

Her calloused hands came from nowhere, one catching him under the jaw, one sliding around his neck.

This sudden turn of events did wonders for his mood.

His hands moved of their own accord, one wrapping around her waist and drawing her onto his lap, the other cupping the side of her face before running his stiff fingers through her hair—it was down, he knew it—circling back again over her bandaged throat to catch her jaw. Her weight settled against him, strong and steady, and without his sight, he allowed Riza to initiate, her lips meeting his almost chastely. He followed her, eager to escalate the situation, but she pulled back.

Now he was really confused.

With a heavy sigh, she pressed her forehead against his, their breath intermingling in the small space between them. “I want this,” she said softly, her nose brushing his. “I want this more than you can know.”

He swallowed thickly. “We can have it.”

He felt her shake her head against his. “No. We can have lies and secrets, but we cannot have what I want. Not until the laws change.”

Roy stroked her hair, almost hesitantly. “Will you wait?” he whispered. “Will you wait until the laws are abolished?”

“I will wait for you as long as it takes,” she promised. “But I will not settle for half of what we should have. I will wait until I can have all of it.”

“And until then?”

“I will be your most trusted subordinate.”

His laugh was more sad than not, almost a sob. “Well. I’d better ask Fuhrer Grumman to get started on the laws that really count.”

“You’d better,” she agreed. Her closed lips met his one more time, a gentle pressure that he returned, savoring this contact with the woman was irrevocably, madly in love with.

Then she pulled away from him entirely. The chair across from him squeaked as she settled into it once more, leaving him feeling too light and too heavy all at once, already missing her grounding weight against him. “Your food is going to get cold,” she reminded.

He started to reply, only to have a piece of chicken stuffed in his mouth.

He blinked, then gave an indignant scowl as he began to chew, swallowing it all too soon. “Firstly Riza, it’s burned.”

“Your fault,” she reminded.

“Secondly, I can feed myself.”

Something was shoved into his hand, and it took him a moment to realize it was a fork. “Better get to it then, Sir.”

Roy offered her what he hoped to be a convincing smirk found his plate with his other hand, delicately gripping the edge as he began to blindly chase chicken and carrots around his plate.

It didn’t take very long for his hands to start spasming, and without comment, Riza swiped the fork from the tabletop where it had fallen and pushed another bit of carrot into his mouth.

And she did it all without derogatory comment, and as embarrassed as he was, he was grateful. Roy Mustang did not deserve Riza Hawkeye, and that was that.

He had waited for her for years, and would wait for her for an eternity more if he had to.

But he knew she would be worth the wait.

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A/N: This is my first time posting a full one-shot to Tumblr (I think) xD

I told my muse it was time to sit down and work on DOA and SSB, so it sat in the corner and wrote this to spite me.

I have no idea how to write Royai, but I wanted to give it a shot anyways, because I love them and I haven't written for them specifically and explicitly in forever. I'm, frankly, a bit terrified of posting this because I feel like I cannot do these two justice xD Will I do the other prompts? It depends how much I cringe when I go back and reread this :'D UGH I don't even know if this is in character, but I've spent literally all week on the first prompt, sooooo *throws it out there*. EdWin Week burned me out a bit on the posting-ever-day thing, so that's definitely not gonna happen. Maybe I can finish this in June? Unless my muse *pointed glare* does not cooperate.

We'll see how it goes xD

If you have time, please drop a comment/reblog, and I'll see you next time c:

God Bless, -RainFlame

#royaiweek20 #royai #FMA #fmab #fma fanfiction #Roy Mustang #riza hawkeye

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seoultraveller · 3 years

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IM HERE

AGH it’s fine it’s fine🥺🥺🥺 I understand though, it is hard to keep in check and update yourself sometimes!!

I’ll let Kiwi know😌 it’s her little heart is truly amazing🥰 Love that too!! Kinda jealous I also want to have a heart on my nose lol😂

Omg😂 maybe you should double check on the birth time hehe~ I’m not too familiar with Leo risings, but I feel like that would suit you!! I see Leo placements as the sun and you just radiate that for me✨🌞

Exactly!! Grass isn’t always greener in other places :// Ahh, school has been going a bit up and down for me. I was in school last week and it was soooo stressful ugh... I had a quite a lot of exams (and I had barely studied oops-)😅 Expect for that it was fun! We had great weather so it was still pleasant going out know :))

This week has been very slow tbh and I’ve woken up so tired even with the sun shining in the morning and even if I slept well during the night ;(( though!! I have no exams or tests or essays for this week, so I’ve had a chance to just relax after online school is over every day😭💕 Been trying to write some and it’s going somewhere at least🥳

YUNHO WAS TRULY AMAZING!!! As you said, he is such a skilled dancer and performer and it’s so cool to see how with his heigh adapts to the choreo and to the others!! I can then understand Yunho had you on a hold today🤣 GAHAHAH “#makeithurtless” made me laugh (sorry I’m laughing at your pain gshshs- and I totally feel you after the shit Seonghwa and Hongjoong pulled WHEW)

I’m feeling so hyped after the performance!!!😭 Such a cool stage, absolutely love the concept, the outfits were great and the song and dancing too AHHHH! I question every time how ateez manage to become better and better??

Makes me happy to know you’re good!! Not so fun hearing about your job though :// But you just gotta keep pushing through🥺💕

It’s been a relatively good week though!! I’m proud of myself of the amounts of writing I have done🥰 I didn’t have time nor the motivation to write last week :((

You sent this just as I was walking out the door 😂

BUT I’M HERE!!

That would be so cute!! Since Kiwi is so cute, by default her owner is cute too. With or without a heart-shaped birthmark on the nose ❤️ 💖😉

Ohhhh~ 🥺 I have and I even checked with my mom to see if it was PM or AM and she said I took forever to come, so AM 🤣. I radiate sun energy to you 🥺☺️?? I feel that on the internet I could say and do a lot more especially if my face is not connected to closely to the blog. So maybe that’s where that comes from. Definitely feel as if my ego is growing a little too large 😂. However, in real life, I’m so timid and not... commanding? You definitely give off water moon vibes to me, even if Aries might be fighting for dominance at times. 😂

Oh! 😳 Well I am glad that you were able to find the silver lining in all of that. Good weather, sometimes, is all it take to make an okay day into a great day!! Sometimes, it’s just the little things that you have to notice.

That sounds like such a nice time, aside from the fact that you’ve been waking up tired and that the week was slow. It sounds as if your body is taking the necessary time to recharge. Oh!! I noticed your WIP list! So, is your writing geared towards ff or is it academic writing? I am happy that you are able to find some time and make progress with your writing!! ☺️☺️☺️

Like- YUNHO~ 😩😭🥺😩😭🥺 that man is spinning circles around me and I cannot be mad about it. It’s okay! Laugh at my pain!! 😭😂😭😂😭 I am in Yunho Loving Hours 💖❤️💕 until further notice. THEM TWO!! THEY AIN’T INNOCENT EITHER. I’m coming for them!! Like who allowed them!?!?

It is definitely a good hype song, for sure. I absolutely loved everything about it! Good that you mentioned it because it is like they improved since their last stage. It just got better! Like how?! The artistic design/prop. crew and stylists really are putting in the work behind the scenes for this show, and ATEEZ are executing these concepts perfectly. Which works for them, because they debuted with a concept and are amazing stage performers.

Get this: This students that kept putting his hands down his pants (as in hands on his skin below the waist, his genitals) touched my hair and I wanted to cry so badly right then and there but I was feeding someone so I had to keep it professional 😭.

I am proud of you too!! 💕💕 Keep up the good work! 🥺🙏🏾💖

#seoultraveller responds #thorsdreams asks #thorsdreams #dee asks 💝

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highdwightofmylife · 5 years

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dwight, jeff, jake, and david hcs for an s/o who’s really shy and quiet at first but is loud and excitable when you get to know them? (kind of like the life of the party type?)

friend i would die for all of them of coursei wasn’t entirely sure which david you want so i just went for king??? sorry for assuming!!

Dwight Fairfield

- You’re shy. He’s shy. At the beginning, it was very quiet whenever you two sat next to each other at the campfire. The others joked that you were made for each other. Perhaps you were.- It’s very awkward, can’t lie. He goes to say something, but you’ve decided to try at the same time, and you both let your voices cut out in embarrassment. “So–” “Hey–” Silence. - The longer you hang out with him and the others, you get more vocal and outgoing. He liked you before, but this newfound confidence? He thinks it’s goddamn perfect. He could watch you and your excitable ways for hours and wish that he had the confidence to join you. Your laugh is contagious and it gives him a little boost. - He feels like he doesn’t deserve someone as absolutely awesome and perfect as you. Please try to convince this baby otherwise, he’s very soft. - You shouted once in a trial because you were excited and he had to physically put his hand over your mouth and remind you that there was a killer on the loose. But that only developed into sheepish giggles and then your laugh made him laugh and then before you know it, the killer was watching you two from the distance and he was really confused. Prepare to run for your lives, you dumb sappy kids. Love you.

Jeff Johanson

- Thought your shy demeanour was real sweet. He’s not a loud man himself, but he’s confident enough to take the lead. Low-key felt a need to look out for you. Big man does a protecc- If anyone talks over you, he’ll take the time to ask you what you wanted and bring it up to the group. He doesn’t want you to feel like you’re being ignored, but he also doesn’t want to push you out of your comfort zone too fast! You just tell this man exactly what you’re feeling and he’ll make sure that everything is sorted!- He’s less protective when you come out of your shell more, because he knows you can fend for yourself now. He’s super happy when you make your points known and he adores hearing your voice. He loves seeing you able to let loose and have the confidence to do the things you couldn’t do before.- I say less protective, but he still gonna take good care of you. He’s by your side no matter how you feel on any given day.- Sometimes shushes you late and night and tells you to leave some of the excited babbles for tomorrow. He might love your voice but he also doesn’t want you tucker yourself out, and the faster you shut up, the faster he gets to let you curl up beside him. - It’s funny because there you are, bouncing off the walls, while he just chills and tells you how cute you are.

Jake Park

- He’s a lone wolf by nature, and yet he’s always stuck to your shy side like glue?? He says he wants time alone and yet he follows you everywhere. Make up your mind, Jake. He’s just worried, and he wants to help build up your confidence as it could mean life or death in a trial. You need to be sure of yourself if you want to survive. - He’s very patient with you. He won’t force you out of your comfort zone immediately, but he was give you gentle pushes in the right direction. - Once you’re more confident, he’s quite happy to watch you mingle with the others. He often doesn’t join in unless you drag him over, but he’s willing to go -- but only for you. He prefers to just watch you be social than, y’know, actually be social himself.- Sometimes you’re a little too noisy for his tastes, in which case he might physically drag you down and just goddamn squish you into a hug. They seem a little passive-aggressive, but you still love them. And he loves you! Just let the man chill sometimes.

David King

- King of pep talks. He’s gonna blast you with the strongest, most inspiring pep talks you’ve ever seen in your life. Prepare to watch him strutting around the camp like a football coach and feeding your ego as much as he can. “WHO’S GONNA DO THE THING? YOU ARE! BECAUSE YOU CAN! AND I’M ROOTIN’ FOR YA!” - Sometimes forgets that you’re not too comfortable in situations yet and will pull you into social things. He’s not being mean! He just wants to include you and show you off to everyone! Please be patient with the man, he’s trying his best.- When you start getting more comfortable, he’s overjoyed. Totally thinks that his pep talks did all the work. He’s so goddamn proud of you! The two of you are the life of the party now.- His favourite thing is play fighting with you. Rolling around on the dirt and pretending to punch each other to all hell. The laughter you make when you do that with him is music to his ears and he absolutely adores this side of you.

#jeff johansen #dwight fairfield #david king #jake park #local psa i'd die for dwight #i feel like this was badly written but i'm so tired i'm so sorry please forgive #dbd headcanons

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imchangkyuns · 5 years

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hi everyone!! it's your local hyungkyun enthusiast rachel!! so i somehow (???) hit 5.5k a while ago and i just wanted to say thank you to everyone who follows me for supporting my gifs/gfx, even though i’m not as active anymore ♡

anyways i really wanted to take this time to do a moot appreciation to all the lovely people that i follow!! i don’t follow a lot so this ff is kind of small but i want to shower you all with love!! a lot of the people i knew when i first started this blog are gone, so y’all are the real heroes - thank you angels for filling my dash up with all the good mx content! it’s a little long but i wanted to write about each of you so please bear with me hehe

@bluehairjooheon | n..... you make some of the best gifs (all the great jooheon content thank u!) and i love love seeing you on my dash bc your tags are also so fun to read (lol) + i can’t imagine all the work you’ve put into making podsta x come to life, you’re.. royalty

@calemiel | emy, you’re one of my fav multifandom blogs! your colouring on your gifs is always so sexy and nice and your edits are truly the cutest thing ever :(

@chachayeon | hi nicole! i can’t believe you follow me on this blog too lol but i’m glad!! god i love all my multi stans and i adore how friendly and lovely as a human you are!

@changkyuns | arin, you radiate so much positivity and cuteness and i love seeing kyunbebes on my dash!! also your url is godly and all your graphics are the cutest n cleanest thing! truly queen

@ckyun | hi nat!! i don’t know if you’ll ever see this but you were probably the og kyunbebe from when i first made this blog?? i miss seeing your content bc you rly did have the most godly graphics and i hope you’re doing well!

@coups | hi sally! you make the cuuuuutest edits and the colouring on your gifs is always the softest ever!! i love seeing all the content you produce, thank you for feeding my multi ass heart!

@dearmingki | romi you’re a fake monbebe smh (hehe) but thank you for providing all the good ateez content!! when we first became moots, you were still a mx blog but now that you’re also an atiny i’m v v glad! so happy to have you providing all the good mingi content

@hyungkyun | cristina, your tags are so fuckin funny sometimes i lose my mind, also your gifs are wonderful!! i love the moments you always choose to gif and thank you for making so much changkyun content!!

@hyunqheon | hi hi! i haven’t seen you on my dash in a while so i hope everything is okay with you! i love that you post a lil abt everything including girl groups bc it’s rly nice n refreshing to see!

@hyxngwons | agnes i really have to say we’re hive mind.. i think we stan all the same groups hehe... anyways! you’re such a sweet person and i love love all your content bc the colouring and topaz is always so beautiful!!

@insmiles | lauren! honestly.. feels like i’ve been following you forever and we’re moots on like 3 (?) of my blogs lol, you’re the one who feeds me the most with all my fav groups and thank you for always bringing my attention to new/underrated groups!

@jookyun | shrad ugh my good kyunbebe gal sorry i’m so terrible at keeping in touch i hope you’ve been doing well! you’re a little angel but also so so funny and i love talking to you! thank you for reaching out to me when we first became moots, you truly are.. Angel!

@kihyunslips | hi lovely!! feel i like followed you back in mar 2017 when i made this blog, thank you for being so active and keeping up w all the mx content + good text posts and memes hehe

@minhyukie | hi amy! honestly think i followed u when i saw someone rb ur selfies n i was like. is this. Angel? u are so so funny and your love for minhyuk is so so pure! you’re one of my fav gifmakers so thank you for always gifing all the good content w the cutest colouring, hope you’re taking care of yourself!

@mxluv | cheryl! you make such lovely content and i’m so glad the fandom (read: me) has you! i always adore the colouring you do on your gifs as well!

@naekkung | dani.. how long have we been moots... so long.. you’re one of my fav people on here and so so friendly to everyone and i adore you! ur multi ass out there stanning all the good bgs and ggs too, love that.. thank you for spreading so much love and good content.. truly heavenly cc.. your graphics. chefs kiss

@nubebe | fucking no offense but i’m a fool and only realized days later... i can’t believe i FORGOT U bitch someone kill me! anyways going back to write this even though u may never see it bc :( kei every graphic u make is honestly the sexiest and loveliest thing ever, you have SUCH a galaxy brain and are so so talented and i adore u and all ur creations!!! anyways feel free to slide into my dms and kill me in one shot for forgetting u bc ur truly one of my favourite ccs on tumblr!

@showbebe | yoelin baby!! can’t believe you knew me from my mx blog and then i migrated into the fantasy world and you were there again... that’s Fate. you’re such a sweetheart and so so enjoyable to see - i know you’ve been busy lately but i hope life has been treating you well!

@spookiheon | amanda, you truly say some of the funniest things that crack me up.. i think you’re the earliest mx blog i followed that’s still active here so wow ur the true number 1 of tumblr user changkyunned’s heart

@sunnpils | i honestly feel like i’ve been following you forever sam haha, thank you for making gifs for so many groups, esp the rose!! i feel like i never see them enough

@thekihyun | amanda... ur probably like. The OG mx blog i followed i feel like it’s been so long since i clicked that lil follow button.. you’re probably one of my favourite ccs on here and all the gifs you make are always of the funniest content

@wonsheon | lissa!! you always provide w the good mx content n i didn’t realize u also liked sf9 too?? you’re so pure and i love that you’re also multi hehe i hope you had a nice time on your vacation!

@wonstal | hi angel!! please do drop your name in my dms sometime.. i’m dying to know! your gifs are always the top tier quality and i’m so happy you’re not into skz too!! your colouring is always the softest and cutest + your topaz settings!! thank you for always blessing me w your god-tier gifs

@yoonqiful | ash!! you’re a lovely human being and so friendly, can’t believe you sucked me into the hole of long haired hyungwon :( all of your gifs are really lovely and i adore seeing them!

@17dad | not sure why you follow me gen... you’re one of my fav svt blogs, thank you for always bringing so much content of them onto my dash!

@190629seonghwa | nat.. why do u even follow me on this BLOG LOL anyways i adore you, adore all your mx content, adore how sweet and friendly and loving you are and think u are a goddess.. queen of providing all the good hq ateez & seonghwa (satan) gifs

#ANYWAYS. . whew #thats done i love all of u thank u for blessing my dash!!!!!#this is long n a LOT but!#hope ur all doing well 💞#rachel.txt #*ff #alphabetical order from a -> z then numbers!#anyways sorry im bad @ interacting and being active here but!!#i rly rly hope i didnt forget anyone :'( if we r moots then i definitely did so pls tell me

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evangelene · 5 years

Text

Despite What You Are (4)

Summary: Vampires don’t feed on blood, they feed on fear. So, why is yours so potent? Why were you saved by the most dangerous of all vampires–Kim Namjoon?

Based on this request:

“Can i ask for a ff where namjoon is a vampire mafia boss and has a spft spot for you. And you get into trouble woth a rival gang and he goes crazy? Fluffy and angsty 🌹”

Part One / Part Two/ Part Three / Part Five

“So, what do you think?”

Seokjin stood proud, as if he had just made the discovery of a lifetime. In reality, all he had really done was walk outside to find a shed that looked far less like a livable plot of land and more like a busted maid’s quarters from the expired centuries past. Once more, you were infinitely curious as to what sort of complex this place had been before the War of 2048.

It didn’t help that the shed/hillbilly-cannibal prep station was surrounded by a thick grove of trees that shouldn’t be there but were anyways.

Kind of like you.

Funny how one could relate to some moss, bark and leaves.

Despite the lackluster appearance of your soon-to-be hospital, you couldn’t really complain (much). After all, you were finally allowed to go outside! How great!

It would have been nicer if you didn’t have to have a guard within arm’s reach of you at all times. Oh, and you definitely weren’t allowed within twenty feet of the story and half tall fences—despite them being stronger than a vampire and capped with barbed wire.

Apparently, one of Jisung’s gang (clan? You guessed it was a clan now?) had the ability to teleport.

They wouldn’t tell you what Jisung’s ability was though…probably because he didn’t have one before he walked out and became clan leader.

“It’s just a small clan. They will be crushed easily.”

The boys had tried to persuade you, but there was something entirely unsettling about how absolutely quiet Namjoon had been in the corner, his eyes lost in space somewhere out the window.

Comforting, especially to a human who jumped when the wind rustled the leaves in the trees a bit too rough for her liking.

“Y/N.”

You jolted your attention back to Seokjin, giving him the weakest yeahtotallywasn’tscaredatall smile you could manage. “It’s great.”

With a deep sigh and a roll of his eyes, he yanked open the door to the shed; it look like it required muscle—even for a vampire (you blamed it on the fact that nature looked like it had tried to glue it shut with some unholy substance). “Just take a look inside, would you?”

So…the inside was even worse than the outside, which was saying a lot since the roof looked like it was about to slide off the structure entirely. As you stepped up, you were surprised to find that your foot didn’t immediately crack through the rotting wood; however, that didn’t prevent you from having to hopscotch around already existing holes, rat shit, and poisonous smelling black mold. The place itself was dusty and unkempt to the point that it screamed “disease.” But, you know, you were fine with it.

As far as you were concerned, it was far enough away from the main complex building and it wouldn’t allow any vampires to access any of the fear you may exude. Another plus: it had a sink so Seokjin could like…you know…sanitize things? You didn’t really know much about medical shit, which was probably why you were on your deathbed months ago.

Yay for you being a helpful and self-sufficient human being.

“I mean, we can make it good.”

Seokjin chuckled. “Of course I will make it acceptable. I am aware of how easily humans fall ill—I won’t allow it to be anything but sterile.” You sent a look over your shoulder that had Seokjin frowning. “Are you doubting my abilities now, of all times?”

“I’ve seen you heal, not clean. Besides, what are you going to do? Vacuum the spores from the air?”

“It will need to be aired out for a bit anyways—speaking of that, you should probably get out of there for now.”

You were on the same level as a feline and therefore gave no fucks for the vampire who could easily yank you out by your pinkie if he so chose to. Instead, you used the sleeve of your sweatshirt to dust off the one and only table in the shed; surprisingly, the furniture itself wasn’t nearly as compromised as the actual foundation of the building.

“Y/N. Out.”

“Woof.” You glared at him from your musty seclusion, slowly parkouring your way back out the door and onto semi-solid grass.

He seemed to age in that moment, even though vampires really…don’t…they just kinda die looking hot and young and shit. How nice. You blamed it on the poor man having to deal with your constant bullshit.

But, then again, if you had to listen to his puns then he had to put up with your tantrums.

“So it’s just going to sit there for a week or whatever while you guys go off and do your dangerous top secret mission?”

“Pretty much.”

“You know, I really hate secrets.”

He let out a bark of a laugh, his hand placed between your shoulderblades in order to guide you forward—well aware that you’d already taken a spill once already (stupid tree root) and had a 99.9 percent chance of repeating your mistakes. “You’re one to talk with the one you’re keeping.”

“He keeps far more than I do. It’s not fair.” You frowned at the ground, keeping your gaze cast down in order to prevent a sequel to the greatest fall of the century. “I prefer transparency; I’ve had enough secrecy in my life.”

“You are still useful, Y/N.”

A shudder ran its way up your spine.

“He has reasons for keeping things from you. You are not ready to see him feed; you are not ready to learn what he does when he’s away from you. The missions he does--the business he conducts--you are far more fragile than we are.”

“I’m not a fucking flower.”

“Physically, you may be able to handle more than we suspect; but, do remember, you had just jumped out of your skin due to naturally occurring wind. Would you be able to hold yourself back at the visual of a human being tortured in front of you?”

You pressed your lips into a line.

The tip of the tree hung down from his chest, broken by the impact of his body crashing backwards into it—despite the thick material of his vest and jacket. Human bodies contained so much blood, why didn’t you ever realize that before?

“So?” You dug your nails into your palms. “If it concerns me, then why can’t I know these things? You all are no better than humans.”

“You’re insulting yourself.”

“I’m good at self-deprecating humor.�� You sighed, dropping your defense mechanism for the moment—but only the singular moment. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. Sometimes, your own species can be your worst enemy.”

There was a prolonged pause between the two of you, both of you walking in tandem but somehow still so far away from the other that you could have been on different planets.

“Part of me hopes that you’ll fail.” You murmured. “Part of me would rather go out like that—no pain and put under anesthesia. It’s easy. And then I wouldn’t have to…I wouldn’t…”

“There are bigger secrets you’re keeping from him than this one.” Seokjin didn’t word it as a question, as if he already knew everything swimming around the stagnant pool of thought in your head—he probably did. You briefly remember someone mentioning that he grew up with humans.

It wouldn’t surprise you if his emotions developed in a similar fashion to your own.

“I started to become more human being surrounded by vampires. Is that weird?”

“Yes.”

“It’s a rhetorical question you asshole, let me finish.” But he was repressing his laughter and you were huffing on a smirk as you cleared the trees. “I don’t want to feel those things anymore—I don’t want to remember what it’s like to be human, not when nothing good can come of it; not when there’s a chance I could lose it.” You paused at the door to the compound, soaking in the rays of sunlight while you still could. “Promise me you’ll bring him back safe.”

“He’s stronger than any enemy we could face out there, Y/N.” But he didn’t promise you, and that alone was enough for your stomach to constrict in the most unpleasant way. You could feel Seokjin’s gaze on the side of your face as you closed your eyes and faced the sun. Part of you hoped that the sun would smite you where you stood so you could escape everything—however, while you were fearful of living, you were even more terrified of death. “You love him, don’t you?”

“Denied.” You murmured without a second though, the metaphorical doors to your heart slamming shut so quickly it almost felt like you were shot point-blank in the chest. “I refuse to love something that can’t love me back. I can’t lose anything more in this life. I can’t lose him, and I can’t tell him that I can’t lose him. I can’t love him, and I can’t tell him that I can’t love him.”

“You are overcomplicating things, Y/N.”

You opened your eyes, squinting through the sun to meet Seokjin’s gaze. “I think that’s the one thing I’m truly good at.”

~.~

Namjoon refused to explain any part of his “mission” to you. And yes you totally put air-quotes and a stupid face to the word mission. To you, it seemed like bullshit; to you, it seemed like he was out doing the very same things that the human hunters did. To you, it seemed like he was keeping secrets and pulling strings behind your back.

To make matters worse for your worried and easily annoyed heart, he had to take all of the six with him.

Well, originally he had planned on leaving Taehyung, Hoseok, or even Seokjin with you—but, upon your inquiry of just how damn dangerous his stupid idea was, you forced him to have his entire crew by his side. You remembered how quickly his expression had darkened, the impassivity to his gaze that had you wishing that you could read his mind like he could read yours.

Idiot.

Then again, he probably just called you a bunch of terrible names in his mind just like you did in reference to him.

Despite your energy and your lack of understanding, you tried to be that™ person; you tried to be that™ supportive girl that stood by her loved person, waving them off with a handkerchief and tears glistening beautifully in her eyes. First off, you were never graceful in anything you did, and the old movies would never be you; that™ person would never be you.

You were too much of a salty, bitter hag. Salty because he wouldn’t tell you what he was going to do, nevertheless where he was going to do this mystery action; even saltier still because whatever incredibly dangerous thing he was going to do could be the end of him and, even in your anger, you wouldn’t be able to take not knowing where he went or what happened to him.

So, like the woman you were, you resorted to pursing your lips at him from the corner of the room as he gathered his things. Part of you wanted to see his face in case you forgot it, but the stronger part of you said that your actions were out of spite rather than anything else. You damn well wanted him to know just how pissed you were. Subtlety? You don’t know her.

“I can still leave Taehyung here with you—I…I don’t trust the others here with you.”

“Jiwoo’s here. I’m fine.” You grunted, arms tightly crossed over your chest.

“She doesn’t have any abilities. Taehyung could at least—“

“Namjoon.” There was something exhilarating about the power you had over him when you simply said his name—it was almost enough to dissolve your anger…almost. “Yoongi and I spoke about this when I said I wanted them all with you—he agrees that she has a hell of a survival instinct and an even greater protective streak. I will be fine; I’m locked up to holy hell in here anyways.”

Honestly, you remembered how quickly that conversation had went—Yoongi had offered her to you without a hint of hesitation. It was almost as if he didn’t care that his mate could possibly die for you if the situation arose. And here you were, with a mate who didn’t trust you with a fucking spoon.

You were sure your face was going to gain permanent wrinkles from frowning so intensely.

“You’re angry, why?”

Leave it to the vampire to be blunt.

“I’m not.” Yeah, Y/N. Good job. Continue to sulk like an absolute child because, of course, maturity is for LoSErS.

“Sure, but if I accept your words at face value then you will only become more angry. I am not stupid to you at this point. You’ve been here for over a half a year now.” He sighed, pulling on his jacket. “What is wrong?”

You cast your gaze to the floor, if only because he was now openly staring at you and your pride won over your anger—you couldn’t let him see you turning red at such an inopportune moment.

“Why can’t you just tell me what you’re doing? Or where you’re going?”

Part of you wanted him to be like human men, you wanted him to hold your face in your hands and kiss you and make you feel something other than this icy distance between the two of you. Maybe then you could take not knowing.

But that wasn’t the case, and you were infinitely reminded that this wasn’t a human man in front of you.

“This is what clan leaders do—they go out and stake their claim, mark their territory and make sure it is still theirs. You have no business here.”

Anger boiled under your skin and, god, did you really just want to smack him. But with the sheer amount of muscle in the monster man, you knew you’d hurt yourself more than you’d hurt him. “You’re not going out there to stake your fucking claim, Namjoon. I’m not stupid. I know you’re not telling me the truth.”

You could feel his stare burn into the side of your face, but you refused to meet it just to satisfy your petty rebellion. “I want you to be safe in all senses of the word. Can’t you be satisfied with that?”

“No.” You snorted. “I can’t.” Your hands were balling into fists, lips pressing into a line so thin you swore they might burst and disappear entirely. “I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for your protection—I didn’t ask for you to be a clan leader, I didn’t ask for you to sacrifice your life for mine. What I asked for was your honesty.”

He paused for a second, clearly thinking out his words so that you wouldn’t continue to be mad at him. But, for a vampire still learning the complexities of the human mind, you were both well aware that he didn’t have the right toolkit to attack this problem.

“There’s a lot you can’t give me, and I’m learning to accept that. But like hell will I put aside the truth and accept your lies. What are you really going to go and do?”

It was your last lifeline, your last chance for him to grab the rope and tug him back into your good graces.

At first, it seemed like he was taking grasp of it with both hands, stepping closer towards you with intent--like he maybe was going to hold your hand, like he maybe was going to brush your hair off your neck and kiss your cheek. But, of course, he did none of those things.

Instead, he slipped past you entirely. “I promise we will return as soon as we can.”

By the time you calmed yourself enough to turn around, he was gone.

~.~

Jiwoo was a heaven-sent existence—despite being the very thing that fed on fear, you were convinced that she was an angel. It was her personal mission to make sure that you never felt alone, and that you were able to sort out all your feelings and complaints, allowing you to throw them all onto one vessel.

With her sweet smile and her unvampirely crave for contact; she was everything you needed in the wake of being pissed off at Kim Namjoon.

It was hard not to laugh as she grumbled to herself while setting up her side of the bed for the night. “I know he’s my leader, but he’s a prick.” She huffed, fluffing her pillow with slight violence only to freeze and stare at the door when there was a particular loud noise a floor below you two. There was a moment where she had offered to lay out a sleeping bag for herself on the floor, but when you offered to let her next to you, her eyes lit up and part of you wondered if maybe she could be your mate instead.

She understood your human needs far better than grumpypants.

“He wouldn’t let me visit with you as much as I would like, so I’m going to soak up every opportunity I can get.” She threw herself on the bed next to you, those bright eyes of hers boring into yours. “Maybe it’s a female thing, but I feel I can understand your thoughts a bit better than those dumb boys.”

“Maybe.” You chuckled. She was probably the exact opposite of Yoongi—far too bright, bubbly and touchy-feely for the man who recoiled at breathing the same air as another being. You paused for a second, wetting your dry lips with your tongue. “Can I ask you something?”

“No question is too strange for me.” She giggled. “Yoongi says that I ask too many weird ones that anything anyone could ask of me would seem normal in comparison.”

Somehow, you could see it. The girl radiated a personality that only existed in characters from outer space.

“Why are you so fascinated with me? I mean, I’m not really special—just your average human.”

She shrugged, moving to adjust herself into a comfortable sitting position. “Well, I liked what I saw when I first met you. And, well, I don’t really feed from humans because I pity them. I prefer the fear from my own kind—and Yoongi’s really good about making sure I can get fed enough from that alone.” She paused for a moment to ruminate on her words. “Humans…Well…I feel bad for hurting something so innocent for my own gain. They can’t even properly fight back.”

“Some do.”

“Even then, it depends on the human and their deeds—but it’s not like I’m really clued into those too well. Vampires…well, we’re often terrible beings. Maybe more so than humans.” She sighed. “But you, man, when you stood up to Jisung I swear I’ve never seen our leader more whipped for a being in his life. I wanted to know more about you because of that, too.”

Was it possible for a vampire to be vegetarian? Well, the vampire equivalent of the term. Was that cannibalism?

Honestly, you could have probably busted your last three braincells pondering a stupid label.

“Are there more vampires like you?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Probably. But they may all be dead. You and I, we are a rare breed—with mates powerful enough to ensure that we both survive.”

As you withdrew inside of yourself to contemplate the heft to her words, her hand reached out to grab your own, as if on instinct. “Humans are soft.” She murmured. “I like physical contact with them.”

“You are so weird.”

She only grinned wider at that.

For a moment you considered spilling everything to her—everything you couldn’t say to your mate, to humans, to anyone. You contemplated telling her your whole life story if only because there was a being there in front of you who looked so willing to eat it all in and learn everything there was to know about you.

This person was a vampire, and that was enough to stop you.

“There is something on your mind.” She hummed.

“Yeah.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Do you not trust me?”

You put your free hand up. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Woo, I just…I don’t…I don’t think that you can understand me if I told you.”

“Okay.” She murmured. “I probably won’t, but its okay to tell me. My job in the clan is to not ask questions and make sure that things run smoothly. I am a glorified secretary; if there are things I am not supposed to know then I will not seek them out nor will I lose my trust if those secrets come into the light. I am supposed to tell my clan leader everything.” Her eyes scanned yours. “So it concerns him, does it not?”

“What in my world doesn’t concern him anymore?”

She chuckled, her grin faltering for a moment. “Y/N, I never said I was good at my job. Yoongi and I…we were a pairing mated by genes and not by choice—not that I mind, as I’m terrible with making decisions.” She licked her lips in the dry air. “I understand that feeling of wanting more.”

“You…” Your furrowed your brows, trying to find the right words even though the synapses weren’t fully connecting the loose ends to the equation displayed before you. “You don’t love Yoongi, do you?”

She pursed her lips, her eyes lost somewhere over your shoulder. “What Yoongi and I are certainly is not the same kind of bond that you humans call love. So if what you are worried about is how our clan leader cares for you, then I’ll have you know that I have never seen a vampire care for his mate to such extremes before. I’m jealous.”

Something that must have been akin to fear flashed through you quick as lightning, because Jiwoo’s eyes burst red for a second, narrowing in on you before dulling back to their neutral color. “I don’t want Namjoon, Y/N; don’t be afraid of that. I’m envious of the bond between you two, not what you hold—that connection, it seems so special.”

“Have you told Yoongi any of this?”

“No. I don’t see him enough to warrant it.” Her eyes softened. “Perhaps that’s why I enjoy your company, being with you annoys him enough for him to seek me out.”

Your eyes scanned her face, searching for hidden feelings and answers that she was slowly bringing to the surface. It was nice to feel a little bit less alone in a sea of people that made you feel like an anomaly. “We’re similar, aren’t we?”

Her gaze met yours. “We are.”

You tucked your lips between your teeth, trying to make yourself say the words. Trying to will yourself to let it out to her—if you could let it out to anyone, it would be her.

After all, she just indirectly told you her own personal traumas—why couldn’t you say the one thing that was always running through your head ever since you realized it enough to deny it whole-heartedly?

“I…I…”

“You love Namjoon.” She murmured, her irises bloodying to an intense crimson as you inhaled through your nose. When you said nothing, she only squeezed your hand. “Well, I can’t say that I was unaware of that, but maybe one day we’ll get you to say it out loud, huh?” She chuckled. “Then again, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black, as you humans would say?”

~.~

Jiwoo did not have the luxury that the other vampires around you had—she had not been trained for years to accommodate human nature into her life. She was not one who was ready to easily adapt to a human friend and, therefore, she was unable to maneuver you through the compound with the grace that Namjoon and his six had.

AKA, every horror hid from you was unfolded in a searing burst of white-hot fear.

This was, after all, a place for vampires—not humans.

The blood, the bodies, the strewn bits and pieces of lives tortured and lost were not things that startled her.

You, on the other hand, were a different story.

Turning to vomit up your entire lunch into the nearest receptacle—because why would vampires have trash cans every four feet like humans?—you nearly didn’t make it and therefore missed the bright red flash of Jiwoo’s eyes as she furrowed her brow on you in concern.

“Y/N! What happened? Are you alright?” Her worry was a palpable presence in the air, smothering you much like she was doing. Contrary to the vampires you had met thus far, she seemed to think that contact was the salve to every ailment.

You screwed your eyes shut, desperately trying to erase the images of bruised and beaten bodies, parts of humans too mangled to identify. Corpses yet to be disposed of, personal belongings dropped and bloodied in the shuffle, remnants of humans like yourself.

That could have been you. The woman in the corner with a bloody cleave from her neck to chest, she could have been you if you didn’t meet Namjoon. The man on the floor with his spine half pulled out of his back could have been you if you weren’t saved. The child—

There wasn’t anything left to vomit, but your stomach was sure as hell going to give it a go anyways.

“I--” You wanted to straighten your spine, you wanted to stand up tall and meet her in the eyes like loss of life didn’t bother you—like you weren’t terrified of the shadows of ‘what ifs’ that hung heavy above your head. You had to get used to this; that was the saddest part of it all. You, by all means, should be accustomed to death, to the lingering monsters that manifested themselves into your reality. Namjoon fed off of people like you.

He probably fed off of the people at your feet.

However, your stomach jolted into another hefty, dry heave.

“I will be okay.” You whispered, Jiwoo’s hands on your shoulders. “I’m…not all humans are accustomed to these sights.”

She took a glance around, and you could feel the apologetic sympathy roll off of her aura in waves around you without her ever uttering a word.

“I’m stupid.” She murmured. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s not your fault.” You laughed, hands tightening around the trashcan. “Humans….”

“—Humans have too much empathy for things, especially for their own kind. I read that in a book somewhere.”

“Perhaps.” You snorted. “I think humans have too much empathy for all things, living or not. We are often pointless creatures.”

“I don’t believe in pointlessness. Everything has a reason.” She rubbed soothing circles between your shoulderblades, and, you think that she probably learned this from watching a mother soothe a child once.

You can’t help but catch a bit of dried blood out of the corner of your eye, the resembling of human flesh beside it. “When does Namjoon feed?”

She paused. “Not as often since you’ve arrived—besides prepping for their mission, I can’t remember the last time he was down here. I don’t think he wants you to see that side of him.”

“Are any of these…are any of these his?”

Jiwoo didn’t get up right away, she instead studied your expression as if to make sure that this was something that you really wanted to do—something that you felt you needed to see. She must have found her answer, because she then pushed up to her feet, leaving you huddled over the trashcan. You watched her every move with close precision if only because, if you looked away from her, you’d see more than you wanted to.

When she stopped and looked back at you, you wordlessly got to your feet and stepped carefully around the haphazard mess around you. Despite every aspect of your being trying desperately not to show fear, your palms still sweat and Jiwoo’s eyes still glowed a hazy red.

Her hand found yours as you stared down at the body before you. It was a hunter, that was evident by the uniform, though she was remarkably intact.

Something told you vampires didn’t often keep their victims looking so clean.

He made sure he could hear your screams; he wanted to drag this out—suck out every last bit of your energy and fear until death finally took you. He wanted you to suffer.

Her neck was snapped, her hair curtaining her expression that was stricken in horror. Though her eyes were closed—something else told you that Namjoon had done that when he was finished.

Some sick part of you wanted to touch her, to empathize with the body. You wanted to see yourself in that girl, you wanted to see some remnant of care you had for humanity. However, the second the Hunters Association’s uniform was involved, that fear--that horror--was dampened immensely.

You squeezed Jiwoo’s hand. “I’m okay.” You murmured. “This, I’ve seen bodies before—at least, bodies in this garb.” You bent down, recalling times where you were ordered to strip the bodies, salvage what equipment you could, and let some other sad soul dump the bodies into the incinerators. You had rarely been assigned that task because you were slow and threw up too much for their liking. Though it did become the ultimate punishment for when you mouthed off just a little bit too much.

You murmured a soft apology to the dead woman as you shifted her, your eyes latching onto the embroidered holster buckled around her hips. Numbly, and in a trance to keep yourself from losing what little stomach contents you had left, you unclasped your prize and slipped it free from Namjoon’s meal.

Brushing off the dust and debris, you fumbled with the zipper to slide open that pack and peer at the contents inside.

The bullets that lay inside the embroidered pockets sewn next to the holster shone like a beacon of light and hope in a dark and damp place.

You shifted them, ducking your head to sniff the contents. They obviously had been down here for a while; their garlic scent had significantly decreased from the potency standards that the Hunter’s Association usually had. However, they weren’t useless.

“Can I take this?”

She shrugged as you slung the holster over your shoulder. “What you carry is no concern of mine; I think it wise that you have something to protect yourself from my own kind. I know that not all of us are to be trusted, especially not with you.” She paused, cocking her head at the body of a vampire. “Besides, if their mission is as dangerous as they make it out to be, then the consequences of it may meet up with us here at the compound at some point. If everything goes to shit, I would rather you have something. Vampiric guards are not perfect protection.”

“Jiwoo, I love you.”

She chuckled. “I’m learning to understand the sentiment.”

~.~

Jiwoo attempted to cook—not because you didn’t offer to do so, but because she was adamant that she wanted to try it herself. To give her credit, it smelled good; to make yourself feel better, you hadn’t once stopped looking over her shoulder. The only vampire you trusted to make you food was the one that had lived with humans as a child.

And that vampire was most definitely not Jiwoo based purely on the way she held a spoon.

“The big part goes in the pot.”

“That’s not a handle?”

You pursed your lips, stifling the urge to laugh and cry in hopelessness at the same time. “No.”

However, both of you quickly became distracted when the outside world burst into noise. Jiwoo met your gaze before nodding. “They’re back.” That statement, though it rang true through your bones, did not allow your feet to move. Instead, you only watched as Jiwoo temporarily put the pot aside to go towards the window.

Staring out the blinds, her shoulders visibly relaxed at the sight before her. “He looks okay.” You knew how she felt in that moment because, on some deep, repressed level, you could understand her sentiment.

Yoongi was okay.

How is he? How is Namjoon?

It was almost as if, for a moment, the woman could read your mind: “Namjoon is alright.” She grinned at you as if that could make you feel better about all of your troubles. “Namjoon is alright.”

“That’s good.” You mumbled to the stew on the stove, mindlessly stirring it with the wooden spoon.

“He’s looking up here.”

You frowned at the pot, refusing to move if only because you were stubborn. Out of your peripherals, you could see her gently waving, shaking her head.

“He’s concerned for you.”

“That’s nice of him to be concerned for his human pet.”

Jiwoo sighed. “You know you mean much more to him than that.”

Instead of garnering her a proper response, you curled your free hand into the countertop to stop yourself from giving into your urge to run and make sure he was as fine with your own eyes. “Is he really okay?”You hated the way your voice cracked as her gaze seared the flesh of your cheeks.

“Are you?”

~.~

By the time Namjoon made it upstairs and into the kitchen, your food was done and you were at the table, enjoying your meal with a magazine Jiwoo had found outside the compound. Once her clan leader reared his face, Jiwoo quietly excused herself but not before you could thank her. She had done so much for you that even an awkward situation between you and her leader wouldn’t allow you to just let her slip away so easily.

Even if you didn’t even want to speak in front of your asshat “mate.”

Once you were left along with Namjoon, you could immediately feel the tension in the room rise to the point that you were sure that your blood was frozen in your veins. You could feel his stare on the side of your face, but you forced yourself to eat and focus solely on the magazine before you.

He sighed, but it did nothing to encourage your speech.

Swallowing his pride after several moments of rising silence, he gave in first. “Is there a reason you are ignoring me?”

You frowned at your magazine, fork poised by your mouth. “What did you do on your mission?”

He let out another weighted sigh. “Y/N—I can’t—it’s too danger—“

“Fine.” You cut him off, finally lifting your gaze to his, even if only for a brief moment to nail your point into the ground. “Then don’t expect me to talk.”

He sighed once more, running his fingers through his hair almost as if he wished to rip the strands out at the root. You could feel his gaze on you, feel the heat of his stare as if he could make you look at him, talk to him—as if you could actually hear his thoughts like he could hear yours.

“If you had the power to, would you go backwards? Would you change things? Would you change me?”

You frown only increased in depth, positively fucking up your features for aging later on—if you lived that long.

What in the absolute hell are you talking about?

“Would you find a human mate? If you could be rid of me, would you?”

You sighed, tilting your head up to the ceiling, staring at it as if it could have the answers to all of life’s questions. “Nothing in my life has been by choice, even if I went backwards, nothing would change.” You shifted, thinking about what a human partner would look like for you, thinking about your life without Namjoon.

It would be dark, lonely. You’d be back at the Hunter’s camp; you’d be dead—if not physically then emotionally; there was nothing to look forward to in your old life.

You imagined waking up to a world without Namjoon, without his straightforward nature, his indirect care. You imagined a world without his conversation, his small smiles, and his occasional laughter.

“Would you change me?” It was too loud for the silence of the room, and you found yourself holding your breath for his reply.

Silence encompassed the room, your heart dropping deep into the depths of your stomach the longer it stretched on—but maybe that was your brain screaming from the lack of oxygen.

Vampires find mates solely for optimal offspring, not necessarily a human��s definition of “pairing.”

Vampires are creatures of instinct; they run based on efficiency rather than emotions.

Your hands curled into the magazine, your legs poised to shove the chair out, to run and escape this conversation. You wanted to disappear, curl up into the comforter, crawl into a closet and never return. Anywhere that wasn’t that fucking kitchen would have been a better option for you in that moment.

“I would change me.” It was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it past the slow sound of your heart crashing uncomfortably in your chest. When you didn’t say anything, he continued. “Not you.”

Somehow, that didn’t make your heart lift from its newfound home on the roof of your stomach.

“Why?”

His gaze was no longer on you; rather it was downcast to the floor, focusing on the tile as he carefully chose his words. “I would make myself human.”

“You’d be dead.” You said stupidly, staring at him in confusion to words spilling from your mouth so quickly and so surely you were amazed that you were able to translate all of the jumbled thoughts careening in your head. “We’d both be, I wouldn’t have met you—the hunter’s association wouldn’t have kept me around. So you saying that you would change yourself would mean that you would ultimately change me.” You pushed your chair out from the counter. “We can’t go back, we can’t change what is, only what will be. Why the hell are we even talking about this? What are you so afraid of? Why is it so hard to tell me where you were? What you were doing?”

“If another clan found out about you, if you had information to give, they would never stop hunting you. They would torture you until you begged for death—and then they wouldn’t give it to you, they’d wait until they fed every last drop of information and fear from you before finally letting you decimate yourself.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t let any of that happen.”

“I can’t make promises, Y/N, this world isn’t—“

“Okay.” You pushed yourself to your feet, leaving your half eaten food and your magazine on the table.

“Y/N—“

“I think…I think I’m going to go to bed now.”

He made it seem like he was almost going to reach out and grab you, but he retracted his hand at the last second.

He only ever touched you because he thought you wanted it, not because he did.

“Good night.” You threw the words over your shoulder, because you didn’t want him to see you cry. He’d seen you cry enough. Crying was weakness, and god were you already pathetic enough as a human being to even think, for a moment, that maybe you weren’t alone in your denied feelings.

Maybe he was right. Maybe it would have been easier if he was human and you two never met. Maybe it would be better if you weren’t in his life.

But would your life be better without him in it?

~.~

You had slept like the dead, cliché phrase you know, but sobbing into a pillow until your eyes were puffed to the point that you couldn’t see made you sleep like you hadn’t in months.

Yeah, you probably could have been six feet under with your lack of response to the world around you. You didn’t wake up when Namjoon entered—you sure as hell didn’t wake up when he came in to wrap you up all nice and tight (you only assumed that he did it based on the fact that you were one-hundred percent sure that you fell face first into the plush bed). You definitely didn’t wake when Jiwoo came in to check on you, nor when Namjoon came and went for the second time. Oh, and you sure as hell didn’t even fucking stir when someone booked it down the hall past your bedroom.

You couldn’t even talk about the building shaking with the force of an explosion outside.

What did finally wake you up was whatever internal alarm built within your genetic code that screamed danger when Taehyung burst into the bedroom at full speed.

Groggily, with your eyelids screaming out in pain and horror, you forced yourself into a sitting position.

You know, you made it sound all fancy, but any normal person would have woken up to the explosion—you just woke up to a dude running in your room with his body language screaming “trouble,” screaming “danger.” And, though you hated to admit to your tendencies to actually give a flying fuck about the man, it scared the barely conscious you to think that this incident involved the vampire closest to you.

Taehyung, luckily or unluckily for you, didn’t regard you at first, and you used that time to fully wake up and orient yourself to the situation before you. As if drugged, you wiped the drool from the corner of your mouth and lazily watched Taehyung slam the door behind him, reaching for a chair to tuck up under the handle—like that was going to do anything against whatever was causing him to panic.

The instant awake button was found when Taehyung turned around and you got a damn good look at his split lip—accompanied by the bruising underneath his eye. The cherry on top of his injury cake was the gashes that you could see through the fresh holes in his shirt when he spun around, blood dribbling down to the waistband of his jeans.

“What’s going on?” Your voice came out as a hiss that sounded more like a gunshot on the tense silence of the room.

His breath came in fast gasps as he turned towards you, his gaze landing anywhere but you—looking for exits, danger, weapons—

“Taehyung!”

He nodded, eyes finally meeting yours. “No windows. Good.”

It didn’t answer your question, but you were pretty sure that he didn’t hear it anyways.

Sitting back into your hips, you ran your fingers through your hair to gather it into a ponytail. “I don’t give a shit about windows; Taehyung, what’s happening?” And then, like the desperate spiral of a worried human being you were, you didn’t even give him time to answer. “It’s Namjoon isn’t it? Where is he? Is he alright?”

He held his hands up to take the brunt of your verbal assault, breath heaving in his chest. “He’s…he’ll be fine.”

“Bullshit.” You detangled yourself from the sheets, adjusting your shirt. “I want to see him.”

“I have orders to make sure you don’t leave this room.”

You froze, frowning at the beaten man before you. “Taehyung—orders or not—you are not going to stop me from going out there.”

“Y/N.” His voice was dark and strained in a way that you most definitely didn’t like. “I have orders; I have to protect you.”

What would your life be like without Namjoon?

You two stared at each other, that same tense silence falling between you.

And then, like the idiot you were, you burst out of the bed and towards the bedroom door.

Naturally, as a fucking vampire, Taehyung was faster than you. His arms wrapped around your waist hard—too hard, but he obviously wasn’t used to handling humans in a way that was gentle; especially when panicked—spinning you around to fling you back onto the bed.

However, you were dumb, and that meant you didn’t know when to give up. In an instant you were back on your feet, bolting towards the door once more. If he had any hope of being delicate with you, it was out the metaphorical window with your second attempt at escape. You crashed to the ground with all the grace of a whale beaching itself, skidding back towards the bed post.

“Please stop.” Taehyung pleaded, body poised to block you. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You rolled to your hands and knees, hissing in pain. “Then just let help, let me out of here.”

“Y/N! They will kill you, don’t you see that? You see what they did to me—what the hell do you think will happen to you?” He was desperate, all but screaming at you in a way that would have scared you were your heart not slamming itself against your ribs.

If he looks like this, what does Namjoon look like? Where is Namjoon?

You threw a glance at the bed, at the space between the mattress and the box spring—the space where you stashed your hidden prize. Without thinking of anything else but the way Namjoon’s hand felt around yours, you shoved your hand underneath the mattress, fingers wrapping around the handle of the gun as you whipped it out at Taehyung. A shaky breath slipped past your lips as you switched off the safety, staring down the barrel at your unfortunate target. With a furrowed brow and a steeled resolve, you nodded to the door, one hand slowly leaving the gun in order to fasten the holster around your waist. “Taehyung, open it.”

“You’d shoot me?” His voice was so sad, so concerned and weak that it broke your heart to do this to him.

But I have no choice.

You remembered Namjoon’s face as he held you, the furrow to his brow as he watched a romantic comedy just to try and understand you better.

He didn’t, but he tried.

“If it means that there’s even a small chance that I can keep him from losing his life—from getting hurt—then, yeah, I would.”

He let out a sigh from deep inside his chest, holding his hands up in surrender. “You know that, if he loses you, this whole thing—everything he’s worked for—it’s all over.”

“But is the outcome really that much better if I lose him?” You jerked your chin to the door once more. “Open it.”

As your gun remained trained on his back, loaded with faded but still garlic laden bullets, Taehyung removed the chair and pulled the door open. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to do anything further to stop you, you thumbed the safety back on and ran down the hall full speed. Skidding across the tile like a madwoman, you swung yourself into the kitchen—the fried synapses of your brain lighting up with an idea. A horrible idea, but an idea nonetheless.

The bullet pouch slammed against a forming bruise on your thigh as you hurriedly threw open the cabinet doors in your squirrel search for the pasta jar you had panicked about so long ago.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung murmured, defeated twice in one day—once by vampires and once by a human scared of a leaf.

“The garlic in these bullets won’t be enough. Bullets lose their soaked properties by half in a month, three-quarters in two. They’re going to need to be refreshed.” You grinned with the jar in your hand, wiggling it within his view.

“Yah! Y/N!” He was only able to let out an exhausted shout as you remembered your self-imposed mission and burst past him, Taehyung hot on your heels.

All playfulness was zapped from you the moment you threw open the doors to the compound.

The difference between the quiet chaos instead the building and the cacophony of the world outside almost gave you whiplash.

The sky was overcast, but only within the vicinity of the area around the compound—in the distance, you could see places where the sun beat down on the ruined earth. All you could hear and see were bursts of bright flashes, sounds of lightning and screaming that seemed to echo even in the open space reverberated through your core. It was as if titans walked the earth and were crashing into each other, bodies slamming against one another. The fencing was dented in, but not broken, bodies strewn just outside and particularly dense around the gates.

Someone was trying to get in—but like, nO ShIT Y/n.

For a moment, you were stunned; for a moment your resolve and your footsteps stuttered.

You wondered if you had as much blood as your partner, strewn up on the tree. You wondered if you, too, would lose your insides to the ground, if the vampire with its hand around your neck would gut you until you were a shell.

Until there was no more blood.

Namjoon slowly overlapped your past self, images of him in a vampire’s hold—images of him strewn up on a tree, him dangling from a grasp until his intestines were on the ground.

Without thinking any further, without dwelling on the fact that this would probably get you killed, you ran towards the fence. Taehyung called out your name behind you, but it sounded garbled as if he was miles away—you were far too focused on not losing the one person that irritated you most.

Your free hand looped through the chain-link, your eyes scanning the haphazard mess of fighting until you finally saw that shock of hair and that shoulder-shape that you would (don’t fucking read into it, you’re still in denial) recognize anywhere.

Your heart leapt into your throat despite all efforts to stamp it down, despite all efforts to continue to pretend that you didn’t give a shit.

He was hurt.

Blood dribbled into his eyes, some running down to his grimace of pain as he used his good hand—the one not broken at an inhuman angle—to utilize his demonic vampire abilities that had every species in the country cowering in fear.

However, what concerned you the most was that you saw Jisung standing there with a wicked grin, as if he was the only one who wasn’t afraid.

That fact alone concerned you as to what kind of abilities he had—he was a clan leader now, wasn’t he? The gold flash to his eyes told you that your gut instinct was true. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t fucking afraid?

That made you even more so—but not for yourself. In that moment, you couldn’t give less of a shit about yourself.

Jisung was still, standing between guards but laughing, close to insanity as Jimin’s body jolted and his head snapped back, a cast of purple sliding over them. Jimin grabbed his face, turning towards Namjoon only to lash out at his own leader.

And, just like that, you realized why Jisung wasn’t afraid.

How could you be afraid of someone when you could turn the people your enemy cared about against them?

You unscrewed the cap to the sauce, fishing out a bullet from the holster to dip it in the substance before loading it into your gun. Hunter’s guns were designed for wet ammo—bullets had to be soaked one way or another, often times they weren’t entirely dry when used. It should still work. Though, it probably would have been smart to test the damn thing before this very moment.

Biting your lip in concentration, you fired at Jisung without any further hesitation.

There wasn’t panic this time, your hands didn’t shake—so the shot took, though not quite where you wanted it—his bicep wasn’t the most fatal place to be hit, but it would do.

The cast left Jimin’s eyes as Jisung’s attention travelled elsewhere…along with the attention of everyone else on the street.

All gazes snapped upright, Namjoon’s eyes meeting with yours at the exact same time Jisung found the source of his new injury.

All it took was one look at Namjoon and you could practically hear his voice in your head—you could feel his anger, his worry, and his own fear radiate through the ground towards you as if it was a lightning strike.

So, because you were smart and because you obviously didn’t give a rat’s ass about Namjoon’s worry for you, you dipped a bullet and fired another shot at Jisung.

Okay so maybe smart wasn’t the word for you.

“Y/N!” The shout came from all angles, from Taehyung still scrambling to chase after you from behind, from Seokjin who was trying to wrestle a very confused Jimin away from Jisung’s radius, from Namjoon who turned to tear after Jisung with renewed vigor because he knew that was the only way to save you.

After all, you’d forgotten that one of Jisung’s gang could teleport.

Suddenly, as if you had an epiphany, you remembered why you weren’t supposed to get close to the fence—but in reality it was because you were now face to face with the ugliest man (vampire or human, didn’t fucking matter if you had a mullet and a slight overbite) you’ve ever seen. Like this was some damn superhero movie, he flashed through the fence, his hands enclosing around your wrists.

He’s got freckles. Was your last stupid thought before you were launched into another reality, another fucking dimension that was far too fast and all too confusing for you to comprehend.

Luckily for you, you were still holding onto the pasta sauce jar—even when you suddenly found yourself outside of the safety of the compound and on the asphalt. You didn’t really think too much of it because you were too busy trying to unfurl the ball of nausea in your gut.

You barely had time to look up and see your mate only a few feet away--his eyes wide as he desperately and quickly tried to dive for you—before you were slammed back into that disorienting world that was both reality and not at the same time.

Freckles twisted with you, his laughter tickling the shell of your ear though it seemed to echo all around you in the foreign space.

Somehow, you knew what was up and what was down enough to come to the realization that you were now beneath him.

Shit shit shit.

You wondered if Namjoon could still hear your thoughts in this world. If so, you were probably scaring him more than yourself.

But like, you were pretty damned scared so maybe not; you could die.

You would die, at least if Freckles had you hit the ground first, at least if Freckles used his weight to slam you underneath him; vampires were strong after all.

You could hear people yelling your name through the thin fabric of time and space; your mate’s panic wrapped around Jisung’s laugh and was sprinkled by never ending shouts of your name. However, with every second in this false world, they were getting further and further away from you.

You could feel Freckles trying to manifest you back into your normal realm of existence, your body tilting backwards as the world shifted around you. In a last second panic as you careened head first, you swung the jar in your hand, slamming it into the side of Freckles’ face as hard as you could manage.

You had to give yourself some props at least, the glass shattered in a spray of spiced garlic and tomatoes, the world snapping into clarity around you as he let go, leaving to you clatter to the ground in a mess of limbs.

Freckles manifested behind you, clutching at his sizzling face in agony as you gathered yourself onto your knees, prepping yourself for the next blow to come. In the distance, about a block and a half away, you could see Namjoon.

Oh yeah, even from this distance you could tell he was pissed with a capital P.

“Fucking bitch!” Freckles howled, his glare one that shot a spike of fear straight through your chest as he towered over you.

You reached for your gun, only to realize that you must have dropped it back inside the compound when this asshole first appeared—leaving you defenseless as he grabbed you by your neck. For whatever reason, it seemed that vampires seemed to favor that as a point of grip. It probably was because it immobilized any human seeing as they could die if they didn’t struggle or if they struggled too hard.

Either way, it would be nice to face a vampire that didn’t aim for your jugular.

You kicked and flailed, gritting your teeth against the pain and the disgusting slough of skin that had become the right side of Freckles’ face. You had been lucky enough to see garlic wounds only through projector screens until now—they looked much worse in person. You would have vomited were you not suspended by your fucking throat.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught the tail end of a flash of that warm, bright light that could only have come from Namjoon. You heard Seokjin shouting something, but everything was getting blurrier and blurrier the longer Freckles’ hand was holding you.

“Do all of the six have abilities?”

Jiwoo rested her face on her hands, staring at the board game before the two of you as you finished your turn. “Technically yes, but I haven’t seen all of them. I don’t go on missions much—at least not with them.” She reached to grab the dice in the middle of the board. “Why do you ask?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, it just…it seems like Namjoon regards them all so highly and, well—at least at the Hunter’s association—I thought that the vampire hierarchy is based on abilities.”

She chuckled, the dice thudding on the hard board. “It is, normally. Namjoon, however, is not particularly a normal clan leader.”

You kicked with whatever strength you could manage, black spots dancing at the corners of your vision.

“So Seokjin is second in command because of age then?”

She made a face, moving her piece five spaces. “Partly, but that is the one case where abilities do play some sort of factor. Namjoon’s hierarchy is based on trust—the reason the six are as high up as they are is based on loyalty and proof that they have earned his trust. Seokjin…Seokjin showed this trust with his abilities.”

When you only stared at her in confusion she laughed.

“I suppose you wouldn’t know, apologize for me assuming that you did—after all, it seems that, aside from Namjoon, you are closest with him.” She sent you a wink that had you frowning at her. “Seokjin is a nullifier—which is a huge ability in a world of clan leaders. He could take over the clan if he so chose to.”

“But he doesn’t—he chooses to follow Namjoon?”

She nodded. “He trusts his leader as much as his leader trusts him.”

Suddenly, there was a force that knocked into Freckles’ back—hard enough to send both of you careening to the side only to slam into the ground far too hard for your liking.

Everything moved lethargically around you, your body stuck to the ground as your mind reeled to catch up with the sudden intake of oxygen. When you finally managed to get yourself to a sitting position you saw Seokjin wrestling with Freckles, his teeth grit in an animalistic snarl as he desperately tried to get your attention.

He was yelling something at you, but in the fog of your brain it was hard to hear.

However, you were pretty decent at reading lips.

“Run.”

You didn’t need a second glance to make sure that you heard right, you didn’t need to be told twice to do the one thing your busted fight or flight response was good at. You hauled your sore ass up off the ground and took off running.

Well, at first you pitched toward the side, hit the ground and then had to haul yourself up again—but you know, you had to cut yourself a break because you were just getting your oxygen back.

However, running, for whatever reason helped—it helped clear the fog and bring back your hyper-focus, it helped bring back the whole reason you found yourself outside the compound: the vampire not focused enough on the enemy he was fighting; the man who stared at you as if you held his life within your chest.

Whatever fear had been there dissipated the moment you saw how injured he managed to get himself in the moments that you had been fighting with Freckles’. All those cuts and bruises and gashes—even with his vampiric healing it would still take him over two weeks to get rid of those injuries entirely.

So what does the concerned human with bleeding pasta sauce hands and absolutely nothing else decide to do when her mate is in need? Call in reinforcements? Figure out where she dropped the Vampire Hunter gun? Well…no, it’s you—what do you expect?

After all, you were not and you would never be a vampire hunter.

So, like the rabid koala you always wanted to be (not really) you latched onto Jisung’s back, your garlic soaked fingers digging into the skin of his face—his mouth, his eyes, whatever place you could find to debilitate him. Namjoon stared at you over Jisung’s shoulder, his face gritting with renewed anger as he slammed the heel of his palm into Jisung’s jugular.

It was going well until your added weight on Jisung’s back caused the both of you to topple backwards, the enemy vampire slamming on top of you hard enough to knock the wind out of you. Jisung screeched in pain, his hands gripping your wrists in a vice, threatening to crush the bones. Namjoon, in a fit of anger that terrified you (even though it wasn’t directed at you)—even knowing that you were the person that he would never intentionally injure. He grabbed Jisung by the jacket, picking him up with a grunt and a growl of anger only to throw him over you. You shouldn’t have been surprised by how far the enemy vampire flew, but then again, Namjoon wasn’t the most infamous clan leader in the entire continent for nothing.

You leaned your head back, watching Jisung clamor to his feet.

“Hwi! Fall back!” He shouted in pain, Freckles responding to the name by ripping free from Seokjin’s grasp. The teleporter ran full speed at his clan leader, vanishing into thin air the moment his hand met Jisung’s shoulder.

Both you and Namjoon held your breath, watching as the remainder of Jisung’s clan ran back into the ruined city and away from the compound.

It was only when he was satisfied that they were not going to spontaneously reappear that Namjoon finally addressed you, still lying on the ground like an upside down starfish. You, on the other hand, refused to meet his gaze because you were positive that it was a look of pure anger and frustration at your lack of give-a-shit to his instructions.

“Back up.” You murmured to the sky. “I’ve got garlic on me and you’ve got open wounds.”

He frowned, but you could tell that he only moved maybe a centimeter further away from you as he gathered whatever coherency he could manage from the renegade thoughts in his head. “You…why don’t you listen? Why don’t you ever listen? You were told not to come out here.”

His anger should have scared you, but this kind didn’t—you just didn’t want to see it. “I had to make sure.” Your chest tightened painfully. You wanted to blame it on the weight of Jisung slamming into you, blame it on being manhandled like a rag doll by Freckles.

But you couldn’t. Not anymore.

Not when you were out here despite yourself being afraid of everything that this outside world meant.

“I had to make sure that you survived. I...I—“

I think I love you. Was what you were going to think, but all thoughts of confession were ripped from your mind the second your body lit aflame with one single strain of thought.

Garlic.

The smell was far too strong for it to be the pasta sauce on your hand, and you couldn’t get yourself to your feet in time to beat the sound of the shot echoing through the streets.

You watched in horror as a puff of blood burst from Namjoon, a scream of agony ripping from his throat as he crashed backwards to the ground.

You couldn’t hear yourself, but you knew you were screaming his name, jolting towards him only to be stopped by the sudden pressure of a wire lasso tightening around your midsection.

As you were ripped backwards off your feet, past the blood rushing in your ears and the sounds of Namjoon’s screams, you could make out the telltale buzz of a two-way radio far too close for comfort.

We’ve got her trapped. Target down.

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unfolded73 · 4 years

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To Come Out the Other Side (1/1) - schitt’s creek ff

Summary: David mourns his husband. That’s it, that’s the fic. (AO3)

Notes: I wrote this for the SC darkest timeline collection on ao3, a place intended for sad as fuck fics that don’t have a happy ending. I didn’t think I’d post it here at all, but based on the reception it got last night, I’m going to. WARNINGS: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH (in the recent past), grief, loss, and a brief mention of suicidal thoughts. Don’t read if wallowing in sadness isn’t something you want to do. Rated Teen, 4500 words.

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Three months, two weeks, and two days

David crosses and recrosses his legs, shifting on the generic loveseat in the overly pastel office. He looks up and down at the therapist who introduced herself to him earlier as Vanessa. She’s visibly pregnant, and he feels a flash of irrational anger that she could get herself in such a state when she’s got patients to see. When she’s taking on new patients like him who are going to need her full attention. What right does she have to have a baby? What right does she have to have a happy family when he’s so—

“I’m sure it’s been a difficult few months,” she says.

He laughs bitterly.

“I know, that goes without saying. What prompted you to make an appointment to start seeing me?”

“My best friend kind of insisted.” He drags his hand up and down on his thigh, scratching at the soft denim. “She worries.”

“Well, that’s understandable. It was brave of you to actually go through with it, though.”

David sneers. He doesn’t want to hear someone calling him brave. He isn’t brave. If he were brave, he wouldn’t have spent the last hundred and eight days ghosting through the empty remains of his life like he has. He’d have done something dramatic. Something concrete. Sell the house. Sell the stores. Leave town. Walk into traffic.

“Can you tell me what a typical day is like for you right now?”

David heaves a sigh. “I sleep late. I have employees who open the stores.”

“The stores?”

“Yeah, we own…” He stops and corrects himself; even the act of correcting his language is becoming a habit now. “I own three general stores in the area. Schitt’s Creek, Elm Glen, and Elmdale. It’s called Rose Apothecary.”

There’s a spark of recognition in Vanessa’s eyes. “I’ve been to the one here in Elmdale. It’s great.”

“Thank you.” He looks down at his lap. “I sleep a lot.”

“That’s common, with grief,” she says in a kind voice. He doesn’t want that kindness from her. He wants her to fix him. He wants her to tell him if feeling like this will ever end. He wants her to tell him he deserves to feel like this, for daring to be the one of them left alive.

“I usually go in and check on the Elm Glen or Elmdale stores by noon. Spend the afternoon calling vendors, or…” Or staring at his laptop, not doing anything.

“You live in Schitt’s Creek, though, right?” Vanessa asks.

“Yes.”

“You don’t go to that store? The one near home?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“Why not?”

He rolls his eyes. She’s sussed out the answer, she just wants to make him say it, obviously. “That was the first one we built. Before we were married. Before we were even a couple. We…” He feels tears burning behind his eyes. How can there still be tears left, David wonders. It doesn’t seem possible.

“That store symbolizes your relationship with…” She consults the clipboard she’s holding. “Patrick.”

He’s instantly furious with her for speaking his name out loud, and also for having to check what his name is, for not having it seared into her brain. For having it written on a piece of paper like it isn’t something sacred. Perhaps together with words like ‘aneurysm’ and ‘grieving’ and ‘widower’.

“Yeah, I fell in love with my husband there, so it’s not a huge fucking mystery why I don’t want to be there,” David says, crossing his arms and giving her his haughtiest, cruelest look. Vanessa seems unphased. She just gives him more of those kind eyes. He hates her. He imagines himself storming out of her office and never coming back, but Stevie would be disappointed in him, and Stevie is the main reason he’s made it through the last three months, so.

David sighs and stays put.

“How long were you married?” Vanessa asks.

“Thirteen years,” he says, his breath betraying him and hitching on the words. “Unlucky thirteen.”

“So what do you do after you go to work in the afternoon?”

“I go back home.”

“Do you still live—”

“In the house we shared? Yes.”

She waits, letting the silence stretch out. It’s excruciating.

“I packed up all of his things in the first couple of weeks. It gave me something to do. Boxed up mementos to give to his parents. Donated his guitar to the high school. Same with the piano — I paid a special moving company to come and take it away. Boxed up all of his boring clothes to go to Goodwill.” He stares at an ugly painting of purple flowers up on the wall.

“You didn’t keep any mementos for yourself?” Vanessa asks quietly.

“No.”

He expects her to ask why not, figures he’ll have to describe how Marcy Brewer had asked him the same thing, causing him to break down in front of her for the fourth time in as many days. She doesn’t ask. What she asks is worse.

“Do you ever think about harming yourself?”

“Yes, but not— I don’t have a plan.” He remembers that from a psychiatrist whose care he’d been under in high school. The overheard murmur as Dr. Herndon spoke to his parents. He has intrusive thoughts, dark thoughts, but he hasn’t made a plan to commit suicide. Having a plan was important.

“What form do these thoughts take?”

“I’m not going to kill myself,” David says with a huff. “He’d be so angry.”

“Patrick would?”

David nods. Not that he believes in an afterlife, but Patrick would find a way to be angry anyway.

~~~

Seventeen days

Alexis crouches next to him on the floor of the bathroom, and he can feel her hand resting on his back as he empties the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

“I can do this on my own, thanks,” he says after spitting into the bowl. His stomach is still churning.

“I know you can.” She doesn’t move, other than to rub his back.

He was crying before his stomach decided to reject the dinner he tried to feed it earlier, and the tears coming out of his eyes now as a result of vomiting don’t seem that different. He wonders if they are different. If some scientist with a fancy piece of equipment somewhere could measure a chemical difference between the tears that come from your eyes when you’re throwing up, and the tears that come from missing someone so desperately that you literally don’t think you can go on living without him.

He heaves again, but nothing is left to come up.

A few more minutes has him cleaned up and back on the sofa, Alexis wiping the sweat on his forehead with a damp cloth. She’s 44 now, and elegant, and as beautiful as he’s ever seen her.

“You should have gone back to New York a week ago,” he tells her.

“Actually, it was L.A. that I was supposed to be in a week ago, but it’s fine.” She combs her fingers through his hair, her eyes roaming over his face. He wonders if she thinks the way his hair is flecked with bits of gray now makes him look too much like Dad. “What good is all of this technology if I can’t do these meetings remotely?”

“You can’t babysit me forever.”

“I’m not planning to babysit you forever, David.” She sounds annoyed, and the sound of her annoyed voice is weirdly soothing. It’s the cadence of those years in the motel. It’s her being irritated by his cologne and his time spent in the bathroom. It’s her pining over Ted and talking him down from bumps in the road with Patrick. It’s the morning of his wedding when she fluttered about, making sure that everything was perfect on the best day of his life.

He starts to cry again, and Alexis pulls him into her arms. She’s deceptively strong, his sister, and he lets himself be held.

~~~

Four months, three weeks, and one day

“What did you do this week?” Vanessa asks, and he doesn’t want to disappoint her, he actually doesn’t. He wants to be the kind of person who can walk in here and say, I’m a little bit better this week. I went to the gym. I looked at a flower. I appreciated the ephemeral nature of life and love.

“I watched three seasons of Justified.”

Vanessa doesn’t show any judgement on her face. “How was that?”

David shrugs. “I don’t remember. Timothy Olyphant is hot, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

She smiles then. “What sort of thing?”

“That cowboy thing.”

“Ah.” She’s silent then, doing that thing again where she lets the silence settle to see what he’ll do to fill it. David studies his nails, trying to call her bluff. The seconds tick by.

He loses the battle.

“Sometimes I think if I’d just had time to prepare for it. If he’d been a heavy drinker or a drug user or if he’d gotten cancer. Something to ease me into the idea of him… of him dying. Instead one day I’m having a completely normal, mundane day, and the next day my whole world had fallen apart.” He stares hard at the ugly flower painting. “I gave him a handjob the night before, did I mention that?” His eyes slide down to Vanessa’s, to see if he’s shocked her. It doesn’t look like it. “After he… I kept thinking over the next few weeks that if I’d known it was the last time, I’d have… I would have made the sex more special. Not just given him a stupid handjob.”

“Any type of sex is special if it’s between people who love each other,” Vanessa says, and David throws his hands up in frustration. She’s missing the point.

“My point is, I didn’t get to say goodbye. I didn’t get to do anything to make his last day on earth good. He deserved… he deserved a good day. All the good days.”

“Who’s to say he didn’t have a good day? Also, you were married for thirteen years. I bet you gave him lots of good days.”

David shakes his head. “I was difficult. We were very different, and sometimes we argued.” He inhales shakily, trying not to cry. “I gave him bad days too.”

“Another thing that is totally normal with someone you were married to for thirteen years.”

His laugh is sharp. “Stop being so understanding.”

“You want to feel like you didn’t deserve him?” she asks.

“I didn’t.”

“It’s a way of explaining why he was taken away from you too soon. That it was karma or something. That you deserve this.”

David looks away, blinking rapidly.

“You don’t deserve this, David.”

~~~

One month

The edibles kick in just as the second episode of Great British Bake Off is beginning. He wouldn’t say he feels good — he hasn’t felt good for a single solitary moment since he lost Patrick — but the edge of the huge knife buried in his chest feels a little blunted. He can stop treading water for just a minute and float. He’s still in the icy cold water, still drowning, but he doesn’t feel the cold at the moment.

Stevie giggles at one of Sue Perkins’ terrible puns. David snuggles deeper into their blanket and tries to let himself get lost in the drama of baking a perfect Opera cake, but his mind wanders and he imagines that Patrick is at baseball practice, or out having beers after the game with his team. That he’ll come home late while David is on step four of his nine-step skincare regimen, smelling vaguely of cigarette smoke from the cluster of smokers who loiter outside the door of the Wobbly Elm. Patrick will shower to wash off the grime of the day and they’ll snuggle in bed together, David letting him be the little spoon for once.

He’s so lost in the fantasy that when he finally notices Stevie crying, her face red and puffy, it seems like it’s been going on for a while.

“Sorry,” she says, wiping under her eyes with her sleeve. “These weed gummies might not be for me.”

David watches her for a second, feeling like the biggest idiot on the planet. “You miss him too.”

“David—”

“Stevie, fuck, I’m so sorry.”

She eyes him with annoyance. “Don’t you dare apologize.”

“No, I’ve been leaning so hard on you that I didn’t even think about the fact that you’re… that you’re hurting too.”

“David, you lost…” He can see the wheels turning as she tries to come up with some way to say it that doesn’t just lay it all bare, ragged and bleeding like it is. “What I’m feeling is not relevant compared to what you lost. It’s a mosquito bite compared to your…”

“Gaping chest wound?”

Stevie laughs, and then just as quickly claps a hand over her mouth. “I’m a monster. I’m the worst friend.”

“No, you aren’t,” David says, pausing Netflix and turning to face her. The high is making words need to spill out of his mouth. “Do you know what I was thinking last night?” Stevie shakes her head. “I was thinking that Patrick would be so pissed off at himself for dying. Because it totally messed up all of his plans, and he hated having his plans messed up.”

Stevie laughs again, and this time she doesn’t try to stop herself. “God, you’re so right. He’d be fucking furious.”

“Not that he didn’t plan for it. I mean, we had wills only because he insisted on it, and he left me a file with all of his passwords in it, and to be honest, I kind of wish he hadn’t? Because now I have no excuse not to pay the bills.”

“David, I’ve been paying your bills.”

“Right, like I said.”

She kicks his shin under the blanket, and they regard each other in silence for a moment across the length of the couch.

“I started jerking off again,” David says with a sigh.

“Congrats,” Stevie says.

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m being sincere, I think? It’s a little piece of normal. It’s like… life moving on.”

“I don’t want life to move on.”

“Of course you don’t, you want to wear funeral blacks and pace around at the top of a lighthouse until you die of grief.”

“Consumption would also be acceptable,” David says, sniffing imperiously.

“David, I know it’s a long way away, but the day will come when things will get normal again. When you’ll wake up and feel okay, when you can go to the store and not be constantly thinking about him, when you even—”

“Don’t say it—”

“Date again.”

“I’m not going to date again. I lost the love of my life; why on earth would I date again?” He’s once again glad for the weed gummies, because speaking those words out loud sober would probably ruin him.

“Because some day you’re going to get tired of your hand, and I’m not going to fuck you.”

He picks up the remote to unpause the TV. “Well, warmest regards to you.”

Stevie shifts over, nudging and prodding him until they are snuggled together on the sofa. “Best wishes, David,” she whispers against his chest.

~~~

Six months, one week, and six days

He pours himself some of the terrible, burned coffee that percolated from the ancient coffee pot to give his hands something to do. He hates being here. He’s only here because Vanessa made him promise right before she gave birth that he go to group therapy at least three times during her maternity leave. David can stand three hours of anything, even sitting in a sad circle with other sad people with this sad styrofoam cup clutched in his hand.

The facilitator of course makes him introduce himself, because he’s new, and in that moment he despises Vanessa and her stupid baby more than he’s ever despised anyone.

“I’m David. My husband died six months ago,” he says simply, hoping that can be enough. The expectant looks on everyone’s faces tells him it isn’t. “It was a ruptured brain aneurysm, so there was no warning. One day I was married to the love of my life, and the next day I was wondering how the hell I was supposed to organize a funeral for…” He inhales and exhales slowly. “... for the best person I ever knew.”

People around the circle greet him with sympathetic smiles and platitudes, and he bites the inside of his lip to keep himself from telling them to fuck off. They go around the circle and talk about their grief — an older woman whose husband died of pancreatic cancer, another whose son died of an opioid overdose, a man whose teenage daughter committed suicide. All of their stories are tragic, as tragic as David’s, and maybe it’s supposed to make him feel better, knowing that people in the world are struggling the same way he’s struggling, but it doesn’t. It makes him think that the world in general and humanity in particular is irredeemably fucked up.

When he’s forced to talk again, he can’t think of what to say, so he ends up telling these strangers about the phone call he had with his mother-in-law earlier that day.

“She wants me to come out for Thanksgiving in a few months, but I just… I don’t think that would be good for anyone.”

“Why do you think it wouldn’t be good for anyone?” the facilitator asks.

“Because the last thing the Brewers need when they’re mourning their only son is to have their son-in-law who is different from him in every possible way — and generally agreed to be too much in every situation — in their house, reminding them of what they’ve lost.”

One of the older women reaches over and pats him on the arm. “You said your husband was their only son, but looked at another way, you are now their only son. Maybe it would help them to be with you. And maybe it would help you too.”

He tunes out the rest of the sad stories, and when the group session mercifully ends, David flees before anyone can talk to him. He doesn’t go back, his promise to Vanessa be damned.

He does tell Marcy he’ll think about coming for a visit, though.

~~~

Two months, three weeks, and three days

“David Rose,” Ronnie says when she encounters him in the cereal aisle of the Brebner’s. She looks at him as balefully as she always has, which is a comfort when he’s still getting sympathetic glances from everyone in town every damn day that he manages to leave the house. As if he didn’t have enough reason to avoid the café, Twyla’s eyes well up every time she sees him. It’s more than he should be expected to endure when he just wants a grilled cheese.

“Mayor Lee,” he answers before returning to his contemplation of the cereals on offer. Patrick liked cereals with nuts and granola in them. David is trying to decide if there is any reason not to buy a giant box of Fruity Pebbles.

Ronnie is looking in his cart, which actually isn’t the collection of shameful frozen meals for one that she probably expects to find. He may not have known how to cook when he moved to Schitt’s Creek but he knows now, and he’s trying to get into the kitchen again now that he’s run out of the frozen casseroles from friends and acquaintances that filled his freezer for the past several weeks. Besides, there’s something meditative about chopping things, even if he does end up throwing most of the leftovers away. It’s a step.

“How are you, David?” she asks, her eyes coming up from the contents of his cart to meet his own.

He shrugs. “I’m out of bed.”

She nods, and then reaches out and touches his arm. “It’s good to see you,” she says, and he feels his eyes burn with tears at the unexpected affection.

He turns and grabs the Fruity Pebbles, holding it up to her. “There’s no one to shame me about buying garbage cereal,” he explains, his mouth pulling to one side as he puts it in the cart.

“As long as that’s not your dinner,” she says.

“No, I’m actually making a stir fry for dinner.”

She eyes him sidelong. “Sounds like you might need company to help you eat all that food.”

David tilts his head. “I’m sorry, but are you inviting yourself over to my house?”

“Call it the mayor's prerogative,” she says. “I’ll bring the whiskey.”

An unfamiliar smile comes to his lips. “See you at six-thirty.”

Ronnie turns out to be the perfect houseguest for a grieving person. She talks about the problems she’s having with the current council members (“I never would have thought I’d long for the days of Moira Rose on city council, but here we are”) and her contracting business and she asks after the store, and whether he’s still liking the cabinets she installed two years ago. She doesn’t mention Patrick, but she also isn’t visibly avoiding mentioning him the way some people do. It’s only when they’ve finished eating and she pours a measure of whiskey for both of them that she gives David a nod and clinks her glass against his and says, “Patrick was a good man.”

David scoffs. “You hated him.”

“I didn’t hate him.” She takes a sip of her whiskey and tilts her head back. “He rubbed me the wrong way at first, but I got over it.”

“I think he’d be surprised to hear that.”

She smirks. “He just needed someone to keep him on his toes. Everyone else thought he was too perfect.”

David drinks his whiskey and mulls that over. “You had a lot in common, you know. Queer, small-business owners, an unhealthy fixation on baseball…”

Ronnie laughs, a satisfying cackle that’s as smoky as the whiskey they’re drinking. They both stare into their glasses. The constant ache in David’s chest swells with how much he misses Patrick.

“I’m furious with him sometimes for leaving me,” he whispers, surprised that the words have come out of his mouth. He’s not sure if he could have said them to anyone else, even Stevie.

“You’re allowed to feel that way,” Ronnie says. “You gotta go through all that to come out the other side.”

He lets go of a half-laugh, half-sob. “There’s another side? I’m starting to doubt that.”

“So they say. Give it time; you’ll get there.”

“Thanks for coming,” he says after a while, his voice raspy. “This was… it helped.”

She pats his hand. “I can always go for a meal I don’t have to cook myself. Anytime you want some company, you just give me a call.”

~~~

Seven months, two weeks, and two days

“Thanks for… helping me with this,” David says to his father.

Johnny Rose glances up at him over his reading glasses. “That accountant you hired could probably help with this as well as I can.”

“I’m sure she could, but the stores are keeping her plenty busy. I don’t want to burden her anymore than I already do.”

“It’s her job, David; it’s not a burden.” His hands tremble as he sets the paperwork down on the table. His father is getting old, David thinks, and he resists the urge to bundle his parents off to the hospital to have every possible test done, to try to extend their lives as long as he possibly can. “But I’m happy to help, of course,” Johnny continues. “Are you sure this is what you want to do with the money, though? Patrick’s life insurance money is there to help you. There’s no shame in using it to make your life a little bit easier.”

David’s been thinking a lot lately about the fact that he was once a person who grieved for the loss of his money, for the loss of luxury. Now he knows he’d go through that a million times over just to have his husband back. He’d sleep in a moth-infested tent, he’d give away all of his clothes, he’d spend the rest of his days in a pair of overalls from Walmart if he could just see Patrick standing in front of him again. It puts a lot of things he cares about in perspective.

“I’m keeping some of it. But this is what I want to do with the rest,” David says, tapping the papers.

His father gives him a smile, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “He’d be so proud of you, son.”

~~~

One year, two months, one week, and six days

He stands next to the grave marker. It was several months after the funeral before he could even bear to drive by here. Then the anniversary of Patrick’s death came and went, and he started to feel a pull to come stand next to the grave. Now spring is in full bloom, and David looks around and has to admit that it’s a beautiful spot. Maybe he should have been coming here all along. Maybe it would have helped.

“Ronnie fixed the leaky pipes in the basement. And she gave me a good quote for the upgrades to the Elm Glen location. I know you’d say get quotes from at least two other contractors, but you aren’t here so I’m just going to give her the work.” He imagines the look Patrick would give him, the indulgent annoyance of it, and he smiles.

“They named the new band room at the high school after you because of the money I gave them. The plaque they put up is horrible, but I was gracious about it. You would have been proud.

“I still miss you every day,” David says, his voice husky. “Stevie suggested maybe it would help to stop wearing your rings, but I told her to eat a bag of razor blades. Maybe she’s right, but I don’t think so.” He twists one of the gold bands now. “It makes me feel better, I think, to have this tiny piece of you with me.”

The wind blows gently, rustling through the grass.

“I did go on a date with that alpaca farmer, though, the one I told you about. Chloe.” He runs his hand over the top of the headstone. “We realized we were at Coachella three of the same years, back before she left Los Angeles. She might have been even more ridiculous in her early thirties than I was.” He imagines Patrick laughing at that. “It’s true,” he protests, laughing a little bit himself.

“I don’t think I’m ready to love anyone else. Maybe I never will be. But it’s nice to… it’s nice to be with someone sometimes. Not all alone, rattling around the house. You always said I was starved for affection, so… Anyway. I think you’d like her. I think she’d have liked you.”

He stays for another several minutes, staring out over the rolling fields, watching a hawk circle in the sky.

Before he turns to go, he pats the headstone again, gold rings against the granite. “Love you, honey.”

#schitt's creek ff #schitt's creek fic #tw: suicidal thoughts #my fic #sc darkest timeline #dead dove do not eat

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