Anon: Just saying, car crashes are angsty ((ALSO LAMS IS GREAT)) :000
Lams sure is great for this prompt!! ;))) Angstliving continues! Here we go, kiddos! <333
Alexander was angry. He was angry at John, he was angry at himself.
His anger must have been noticeable in the way he clicked John’s seatbelt around the slumped boy because John whined and reached for his boyfriend.
“Not now, John,” Alex grumbled. He slammed the passenger side door shut and got into the driver’s side. He let his head drop into his hands for a moment.
“Baaaaabe,” John sighed.
“Not. Now.” Alex said through clenched teeth.
“I didn’t mean to punch him,” John slurred.
“You’re drunk. We aren’t doing this now.” Alexander had had enough of this. John had promised not to drink. Promised.
He knew Alex hated driving, especially at night. Especially when they had a curfew hanging over their heads. Especially when he was going to have to figure out how to sneak an obviously drunk John past the Washingtons, which didn’t feel right, but having them know his boyfriend was drunk while being underage also didn’t sound like a great plan.
He hated the position John had put him in.
Alexander knew that sitting there wouldn’t help them at all, so he begrudgingly started the car and pulled out onto the road. Thankfully the party had been at Aaron Burr’s place, in a suburban neighborhood that bordered the one the Washingtons lived in, so they weren’t far from home, but it was still unfamiliar to Alex. And it was still dark out. And his boyfriend was still drunk and bloody.
“Lee started it,” John mumbled unprompted.
“You should’ve walked away,” Alex said.
“I can take him.”
Alex would have rolled his eyes if they weren’t so glued to the road. “Yeah, tell that to your bruised ribs and bloody nose.”
“He only got the best of me ‘cause I’m druuuuunk,” John said.
“No, he got the best of you because you’re drunk and because he’s a burly upperclassman who works out regularly. Even sober you had no chance, and you know that,” Alex said.
He hated John’s self-destructive streak. He knew that was why his boyfriend drank. Why he picked fights he would most certainly lose.
“I’m strong,” John said, his voice fading.
Alexander knew that if he looked over at John, his eyelids would be fluttering shut. Normally that was the cutest, sweetest sight in the world. But not tonight.
Tears started to swell in Alexander’s eyes. He was torn between his worry over John and his anger at him.
Just as he was trying to blink away his tears, Alex noticed a shape slowly crossing the road, no more than ten feet ahead of him. Deer!
Alex slammed on the brakes and swerved the car away from the creature, toward the sidewalk, which his wheels promptly bumped into, jolting John awake.
Alexander panted as he watched the deer hightail it across the rest of the abandoned road, and he thanked whatever god may or may not be up there that he’d been going 25 miles per hour, five under the speed limit, instead of five, or more, over.
“A-alex?” John stammered.
Alex couldn’t say anything. I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory. He’d nearly seen death again. He’d nearly killed his boyfriend. It was too much.
He felt a warm hand slip into his. “You’re shaking,” John said.
“I’m sorry, John,” Alex whispered, his eyes glued to the spot in the road where the deer had first appeared.
“Why are you apologizing?” John asked.
“I nearly killed us,” Alex said as if in a trance where words held no weight because if they did, they’d be crushing, and Alexander was too fragile for that at the moment.
I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory.
“Let’s get home,” Alexander said robotically.
“Alex,” John said, reaching to place his hand on his boyfriend’s arm.
Alex jerked away before John could make contact. He pulled back out onto the road, and a silence descended upon the car for the remaining seven minutes of their drive home.
When they got to the Washington’s, Alex cut the engine, but made no move to get out of the car. He didn’t even unbuckle his seatbelt.
“Alex, talk to me?” John pleaded.
“I…” imagine death so much it feels more like a memory “I’m so sorry, John.” He shook his head, the daze that had befallen him post-deer-incident was seemingly lifting. “First I couldn’t keep you from drinking, then I couldn’t stop you from fighting Lee even though that’s like a death-wish––” Alex’s breath hitched as the word left his lips. John remained still, eyes glued to Alex.
“And then I nearly get us killed driving like ten fucking minutes through quiet backstreets.” Alex was shaking, but this time with rage instead of shock.
“Alex,” John said, sounding more sober than Alex knew he was. “I’m responsible for drinking and fighting. And I let you down. I said I’d drive, then I got drunk. None of this is your fault.”
“I’m so worried,” Alex whispered, his voice cracking on the last syllable.
“About what?” John asked softly.
Alex turned to him, eyes wide and watery. “You,” he said. “I know you hate yourself.”
John physically recoiled at the words, but he didn’t attempt to deny them.
“I’m afraid I’ll lose you,” Alex continued.
“It’s not your fault, Alex, how I feel and how I handle those feelings.”
“No, but it is my responsibility to help you,” Alex countered. He unbuckled his seatbelt and reached over, doing the same to John, who looked at him bewilderedly.
“What’re we doing?” he asked.
“Going inside,” Alex said.
Alex cut him off by hopping out of the car, slamming his own door shut in the process, and opened up John’s. He held a hand out to his boyfriend. “I know,” Alex said. “I want them to see us.”
“What? Why? I must look like––”
“Like a drunk teenager who picked a fight with someone twice his size?” Alex offered. “Yeah, you do. Now come on.”
Whether it was because he was drunk or because he was stunned by what Alexander was doing–– or maybe a bit of both–– John took Alex’s hand and stepped out of the car, swaying a bit in the process.
Alex held him close as they slowly made their way toward the front door. Before Alex could even put his key in the lock, it swung open.
“John? Alex? Are you okay?” Martha asked, her eyes scanning the two boys, her brows creasing in worry as she took in the dried blood on John’s face and sweatshirt.
“Yeah,” Alex said. “Well, we will be.” He looked at John, who nodded at him. “Can we talk with you and Dad?”
Martha took John’s other arm and led the two boys into the house. “Of course,” she said. “You can always talk to us.”
Alex squeezed John’s hand, and John squeezed back. They moved into the house together, knowing that whatever came next, they had each other.
when there’s a girl who finally likes you and you think she’s going to confess to you but you like another girl so before she gets the chance to tell you she likes you, you start telling her how there’s another girl who you like but then an older city boy appears and you assume it’s her boyfriend and that you completely misunderstood the situation
rated m for maybe a lil long
word count: 4,019 sugakookie scenario for flowerkook cause yoongi is not ur bias and good luck with finals and ur exam!! <3
You are not good at
math. Jungkook isn’t either. But maybe two brains really are better than one
and well, a week before your final seems like a good time to test it out so lo
and behold, you’re bowing your way into Jungkook’s house, which he tells you is
empty over his shoulder, kicking his shoes off at the front door.
Golden maknae his ass. How could he be worth of that title when he couldn’t even get his voice to not crack in the high notes? When he couldn’t even get one simple dance move right? Hoseok said it was okay, the choreo was really hard, but deep down he knew he was expecting more from him. Everyone was.
It got worse when he dropped Jimin on the ground during a no more dream’s rehearsal for a concert – the terrible sound of his hyung’s body hitting the ground still resounding on his ears. They had done that a million times over – he had never dropped Jimin once –, but it seemed like his mental state was affecting his physical strength and everything was just so damn shitty.
From this day forward, he kept working on gym nonstop, wanting– no, needing to be stronger. However, each day spent in front of those glass mirrors was only useful to make him even more aware of all his flaws. All the imperfections on his body and face he wasn’t allowed to have.
The pressure was growing bigger within each day until it hit a point he couldn’t take anymore. He missed his mother, missed his family, his house – he missed the days he just felt normal and not like an useless burden to everyone around him.
He knew his members, and even the managers, were going easy on him because he was younger – that’s why he also knew he wasn’t allowed to feel that way he was feeling. He wasn’t, but what could he do when the pain was only growing bigger evey day? He was already trying to hide it as much as he could from the hyungs, not wanting to be a stupid kid sticking around their shoes, but he just couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t and it fucking hurt, but it was also refreshing when the tears washed his cheeks, simultaneously warm and blazing.
He was alone. Alone and weak in the dance studio, his inner demons pulling up a battle, but there was something relaxing about it. Everyone was already home, so it was okay. He could cry. At least for one night. He could, right? No one had to know.
But Jungkook belatedly realized – in a pent up breath of shock and shame washing over him –, he wasn’t really alone when Jimin appeared with a towel around his neck, black hair still soaked from shower. There was no way he could hide himself behind the couch, or dig a whole in the ground to bury himself there. There was also no way Jimin wouldn’t realize the reddish skin around his bruised eyes, from too many harsh rubs. He had no way out so he just accepted his fate and silently fought a sob. He could only wish Jimin wouldn’t see him in the poorly lit room.
“Jungkook-ah?!” Maybe not that day. “What are you doing over there?”
Jungkook heard him getting closer, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up, too embarrassed to show his hyung how much of failure he was.
“Jungkookie?” Jimin crouched down in front of him and it was when he realized it, concern spreading over his face in a second, “Oh my god, what happened?! Hey, Jungkookie! Look at me…” Jimin kept searching for his eyes worriedly, but Jungkook just couldn’t. He couldn’t because he was trying so hard to not break, but Jimin’s voice had the contrary effect on him. It kept him on the verge from falling and– he just couldn’t. “Jungkook…” Jimin reached for the younger’s cheeks and it wasn’t like electricity, but it was like fire, Jungkook’s skin instantly burning from the touch. A sob escaped from his lips and it was all it took for Jimin to pull him closer in the tightest hug he had ever received.
It was so warm and comfortable it made Jungkook completely forget why he was holding back in the first place. He smelled like washed clothes, soap, and most important of it all, he smelled like home.
Suddenly, Jimin’s shoulder was completely wet with Jungkook’s tears, but he didn’t seem to mind it, dragging the younger further onto his lap, tight arms around him trying to build the safest shelter he could ever.
Seeing Jungkook cry was definitely the most heartbreaking thing Jimin had ever gone through.
When the boy stopped shaking under his touch, Jimin slided his hand into his hair, drawing soothing circles with his thumb on the back of his neck. He leaned against the wall – Jungkook’s body still glued to his chest –, and waited. He wasn’t going to say anything – Jungkook was, if he needed to.
Jimin just wanted him to know he was there for him, nevertheless.
“I’m no good, hyung…” it came some seconds later, his body shrinking within each word, “I don’t know why y'all keep telling me that I am, ‘cause I’m not.” Jungkook sniffled, and Jimin searched for his hand to intertwine their fingers. “I let you fall, hyung.” The maknae hid his face in the crook of Jimin’s neck, tears overflowing from his eyes once again. “I hurt you, how can y'all even say I’m good enough after this…”
Jimin closed his eyes, throwing his head back; searching for words to say. “You know…” he started, squeezing Jungkook’s fingers on his, “Remember when I entered the group? The first day I arrived? I was so nervous I couldn’t even sleep. I heard all of you had been chosen for a company or two, but only bang pd-nim had wanted me so I was really insecure. I worked the shit out of me to keep up, because I kept thinking I was not worthy. I’m not going to be an hypocrite, I still think like this sometimes. We all do. But in one particular day… Ah, I was terrible, Jungkook. I was feeling insecure and homesick, and all the bad things at once. I couldn’t stop feeling like a real trash, but…” Jimin giggled and Jungkook felt a little tug on his heart, “You appeared in the middle of the night with bedhair and a pillow, whispering 'hyung, can I sleep here?’ Do you remember?”
“Yes…” his voice sounded muffled against the skin of Jimin’s neck.
“It was the first time we had ever shared a bed, but you kept talking about that game you were addicted to and about that favorite character of yours, and… eventually about how I reminded you of him. His coolness and such.” Jimin laughed again. “Aish, I felt so warm and relaxed that night I couldn’t quite believe it. I don’t know where I’m going with this, really, it just– You felt more than just enough that night, Jungkook-ah. For me.” Jimin slightly blushed, but he didn’t find the time to bother, “I know feeling like you’re no good sucks, but… You are. Really. You are way more than that, and not only for me.” Jungkook pulled away just enough to look Jimin in the eyes, which got the older to instinctively brush his fingers through the messy strands of hair sticking to his forehead, shoving them backwards to hesitantly place a soft kiss on it. He kept his mouth on Jungkook’s skin while murmuring, trying to ignore his heart violently knocking against his ribcage, “Take this things out of your mind, please… I can’t even bring myself to imagine spending a single day without you.” Jimin leaned down, touching their foreheads and drowning into Jungkook’s eyes – their hands still clasped together, only a breath apart between them “How can you be possibly not enough?”
Thomas woke up to an array of voices. He was on the couch, but no longer on James’ lap. There was a pillow under his head and a blanket over his shoulders. Classic James.
“I just need to talk to him!” Alexander. That was Alexander speaking. Thomas focused in on the conversation.
“He’s really shaken up,” the speaker said with a cough. James, without a doubt.
“I need him to know, though,” Alex pleaded. “Please, please just let me talk to my boyfriend?”
“Mon cher,” Lafayette said. “This is for the best. It’s too much on Thomas.”
“I’ll be better!” Alex sounded like he was crying.
Thomas stood, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. He stormed out to the kitchen.
“Why the fuck are you making my boyfriend cry?” He glared at Lafayette and James, which he felt kind of bad about, but one look at Alexander, his eyes red and watery, took away any doubts he had about his anger at the other two boys.
Laf cringed and James held up his hands. Alexander looked between Thomas and their friends. Thomas opened his arms to Alex, but he didn’t move toward him.
“Alex?” Thomas prompted. He could tell Alex wanted to, but something was stopping him.
“Babe,” Alex whispered. “I… I need to move out for a bit. I need to be with my mom. It’s not fair, what I’ve done to you. What I’ve put you through. What you’ve had to shoulder…” Alexander bit his lip and shook his head.
“Alex, what’re you talking about?” Thomas whispered, moving toward his boyfriend, but still not touching him.
When Alex looked up at Thomas, tears were making their way down his cheeks. “You’re my boyfriend. We’re in college. You shouldn’t be taking care of me, Thomas. My mom is here. It just…” He turned to look at Laf, who nodded.
“Are they making you do this?” Thomas asked, his anger toward Laf and James sparking anew.
“No, no,” Alex said quickly. “My… my therapist suggested it,” he said softly. “And Laf is here to make sure I actually do it.”
“Don’t I get a say?” Thomas whispered.
James stepped forward. “You’ll still see him all the time, Thomas. It’s not forever. It’s just until he’s a bit stronger.”
“He needs to be with Mama, mon ami,” Laf added.
“I’m so sorry,” Alex said. He looked up at Thomas. “I’m so sorry that I’ve let you down. I failed and now you’re suffering.”
“Alexander, baby, no,” Thomas said, taking Alexander’s hands in his. “You didn’t fail, okay? If your therapist says this is best for you, then it’s what we’ve got to do, okay?”
Alex looked down at his feet and nodded. Thomas kissed the crown of his boyfriend’s head.
“Like James said, we’re gonna see each other a lot, baby. Every day, okay?”
“Yeah,” Alex said with a sigh.
Twenty minutes later, Lafayette, Alexander and two bags of his stuff were gone. James stood in the kitchen with Thomas, who was staring out the window, as if Alex was about to reappear any second even though it’d been five minutes since he’d left.
“Thomas?” James said.
Thomas hated the caution in James’ voice. He hated that there needed to be caution.
“Thomas,” James said again. He grabbed Thomas’ wrist, but Thomas flinched away.
“Not now,” he said through clenched teeth. “I… I think I need to be alone.”
“No,” James said. That was the most assertive Thomas had ever heard James be, especially to him. “I can’t leave you alone right now and you know that.”
“James, I promise I’ll be––”
“No, Thomas!” There was actual rage in James’ voice. “You said that last time,” he whispered.
Thomas did his best to block out the anger in James’ voice and glare. “And then I said I’d never try again. Two failures are enough for me. Besides, I’m a man of my word if not anything else, and I thought you’d know that by now,” Thomas snapped.
James sighed. “Of course I trust your word, Thomas. It’s just that I know how depression can be. I know it can get into your head, make you believe things that aren’t true.”
“Congratulations on reading the Webmd article on depression,” Thomas said snarkily.
“You can be as mean as you want, but I’m not leaving. I’ve withstood way worse from you,” James said with a smile. Thomas still wasn’t smiling. “And I don’t want to lose you,” James said with a cough. He looked down at the ground, as if he were embarrassed by his show of emotion.
Thomas felt the protective layer of ice that had encased him thaw a bit, some of the water drip, drip, dripping into a puddle at his feet.
“Okay,” he said softly. “Okay,” he said again, louder. “You can stay,” he grumbled, turning away from James. Before he could walk away, a strong hand grabbed his wrist, tugging him back.
James’ arms wrapped around Thomas, his head nuzzled up against Thomas’ chest. “I love you, Thomas. You’re my best friend.”
Thomas was glad James couldn’t see the look on his face. “Same,” Thomas stuttered. “I love you, too.”
Anonymous: hi, so this may sound weird but can you write something about Alex and George w. like having 101 family time like you know father and son bonding and stuff :) bye have a good day
I sure can, kiddo!!! I hope you enjoy this super fluffy fic as Alex and George have family bonding time in the fluffy, freshly fallen snow! :D Also, sorry bc I know my geography might be a bit off here, but I haven’t been to Mount Vernon since I was 11 (hoping to go again this summer tho ahhh) so I’m kinda imagining a bit of Monticello’s landscape just to make this work. I hope you kiddos enjoy it regardless of me playing around with geography! (read my other lil fics here)
It wasn’t Alexander’s first snow. No, there’d been a freak snowstorm last March, when he’d arrived at the Washington’s, his first and final foster home.
So while this wasn’t Alex’s first snow, it had a much more magical first snow quality to it than that March snowstorm. This time it was mid-December, Martha had decked the halls of Mount Vernon with more Christmas decorations than Alexander had ever seen, and the snow was gently coating the earth in a way that reminded him of how his mother used to dust his toast with cinnamon to celebrate his good grades.
His pang of longing for his mother was interrupted by a knock on his bedroom door. He looked back and forth from the clock to the door, confusion warping his face. It was just past seven. Nobody, save Lafayette, who was currently at Hercules’ for a sleepover, ever knocked on his door at such an early hour on a Saturday.
Alex wrapped his fuzziest blanket, a gift from John, around his shoulders and got out of bed to open the door.
“Hi, son,” George said as soon as Alex had cracked the door open. “I know it’s early, but there’s something I want to show you.” George cleared his throat, his eyes darting from Alexander to the floor. Was George… nervous? “It’s outside, um, a bit of a walk, not far. Well worth it, or at least I think it’s well worth it.”
“Okay,” Alex said, too curious about what it was George wanted to show him to worry about the cold. “I’ll just change.”
“Keep your sweatpants on,” George said. “They’re much warmer in the cold than jeans.” He smiled at the boy.
“Okay,” Alex said, staring at George a moment longer before shutting the door. He let the blanket fall off of his shoulders as he stood in front of his closet and sifted through his hoodies, searching for the warmest looking one.
He settled on his Yorktown hoodie, his favorite because he’d acquired it during his first ever family vacation with the Washingtons that past summer.
What could George want to show me at seven in the morning? Alex shrugged to himself. Whatever it was, he knew it would be good.
Even though he’d been at the Washington’s since March, he still didn’t know George too well. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, but rather that his foster father intimidated him a bit. He was a silent, humble, yet commanding type of man. Frankly, Alexander had no idea what to make of him, but he had an idea he was about to learn a bit more about his foster father.
After Alex and George were adequately bundled up, their snow boots laced tightly, George led Alex out the front door and had him sit on the bench on the porch. He picked up two strange, wicker objects.
“I’m going to take a wild guess here, but you’ve never snowshoed before, right, son?” George asked with a smile.
“I don’t even know that it is,” Alex admitted.
George’s face lit up in a way Alex rarely witnessed. It made him feel special. Even though he hadn’t done anything at all, it made him feel like he’d done something good.
“Here, let me get these on you,” George said, bending down to fasten the contraptions on Alex’s feet. “Snowshoes make it easier to walk on the snow,” George explained. “They distribute your weight more evenly to keep you from sinking too far down.”
George moved onto getting his own snowshoes on his feet. “They’ll be a little difficult to walk in at first, but as long as you walk the way you normally would, you’ll quickly get the hang of it.” George smiled up at Alex as he closed the last clasp on his own foot.
George held out a gloved hand to Alexander. “Ready, son?”
Alex nodded, a tentative smile spreading across his face.
George helped him down from the front steps and held him steady until Alex was able to walk without teetering too much.
“Woah,” Alex exclaimed. “These are so cool!” After about five minutes of practice, he was practically running across the front lawn.
“Are you up to a little adventure?” George asked.
“Heck yeah!” Alexander exclaimed.
He felt more like himself–– his old self, from his early childhood on Nevis–– than he had in years. For once, his worries weren’t silencing him. He felt like he could just be. It was as if the snow and these snowshoes had set him free in some mysterious way.
Maybe it was because he felt like he was floating above the earth as he and George trotted behind Mount Vernon, across the large back lawn, toward the slight cliff that overlooked the Potomac.
After fifteen minutes of a comfortably silent hike, they arrived near the cliff’s edge. George stopped and Alex came to a halt, too. Before them was the Potomac. Parts of it looked icy, other parts were still flowing. The trees for as far as Alex could see in any direction were covered in a splendid white. Snow was still falling around them, making a gentle pitpat sound. The whole scene felt unreal. Alex’s face lit up in complete awe.
“This is my favorite place,” George said after a few moments. “And this is my favorite season to visit it during.”
“It’s so… peaceful,” Alex whispered, feeling as if he should be quiet in the face of such wonder.
George smiled down at Alex. “That it is.”
They stared out at the Potomac for a few more moments, Alex doing his best to commit the scene, the morning spent with George, to memory.
“Alexander, there’s something Martha and I have been meaning to ask you.”
Alex looked up at George and was surprised to see the serious look that had overtaken his foster father’s face.
“Yeah?” he said, trying to keep the fear budding in his chest from his voice.
“No matter what your answer, your situation here won’t change. I want to make that clear.”
Alex wasn’t sure what George meant, but he wanted to know what he had to ask him, so he just nodded.
“We want to adopt you, Alex,” George said, his voice as soft as the falling snow.
Alex’s breath hitched.
“Martha, Gilbert, and I love you. We adore you, son,” George said. “And we would be honored if you would become a part of our family.”
Alex could only stare up at George in shock for a moment, his mouth agape. For once, he was entirely speechless.
“Yes,” he finally managed. “Oh my god, yes.”
That was when he noticed George was crying. It wasn’t like when Alex himself cried, which he knew he would be doing later, once the news really sunk in. It was a quiet, dignified kind of cry. Silent, but meaningful. Much like George himself.
“This makes me so happy, son,” George said, his voice sounding only slightly less composed than usual. “This is going to make Martha and Gilbert so happy.” He smiled at Alex.
Alex couldn’t help it. He leapt toward George, wrapping his arms tightly around his new father.
George hugged him back and pressed a kiss to the crown of Alex’s hooded head. “I love you, son. I love you so much and every day I’m grateful you found your way to us.”
Alex finally started to cry, his warm tears mingling with the cool flakes of snow that fell on his cheeks.
Love. Family. He had them again. He had what he thought he’d never have again. He pulled away from George, a huge smile on his face.
“I love you, too,” he said.
George clasped his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “What do you say we go back home? Martha was planning on making pancakes, and we have that delicious Vermont maple syrup the Adams sent us.”
“That sounds perfect,” Alex said.
And so they walked back to Mount Vernon, a silence once again descending between them. The closer they got to the house, the more Alex felt something warm blooming in his chest. When the white building came into view, he, for once didn’t think of it as the Washington’s.