summary: first part of the dangerous woman series in which the reader realizes she has a thing for thomas
pairing: Thomas Raggi x famous!reader
word count: 1,1k
what kind of content: angst (not with Thomas), fluff
warnings: somme parts maybe hit a bit too hard
a/n this one’s a a lot shorter compared to other parts of diffrent series, but the lyrics of the song are pretty repetetive and lil waynes part was almost completly unusable lol. Still this song is pretty important for the series. The next parts will be longer again.
The last two weeks were crazy. I fell out of love, well I’m not sure if you could actually describe that as love, and I found someone new. Someone that actually made my heart beat faster. Someone I could see myself find true love in. So here I am, sitting in my home studio, trying to process the last two weeks in a song for my new album.
I just broke up with my ex Now I'm out here single, I don't really know what's next
But I ain't even trippin', I'mma chill and sit back
And I know they will be coming from the right and the left, left, left
“What do you mean you want to break up?”, Josh asked me outraged.
“I mean that I want to break up with you. Lately, our relationship only consists of sex and fights.”
“Not that it's only my fault. You’ve been acting like a bitch lately.” now he was screaming at me.
“You know what Josh, fuck you! There are a lot of boys out there that gladly take your place. Leave my house now, please, and delete my number!”, I screamed back at him.
He grabbed his jacket from the armchair and stormed out of my house. I let myself fall on the couch behind me, a sigh escaping my mouth. Seems like I’m finally single again, and it would definitely stay like this for a while now.
At least that’s what I thought. I couldn’t have known that I would meet him three days later at a party of my record label.
I just broke up with my ex
You're the one I'm feeling as I'm laying on your chest
Good conversation got me holding my breath
And I don't normally say this but goddamn, you're the best, best, best
“Y/n I want you to meet Måneskin. They’re an incredible Italian rock band who just won Eurovision.”, the Manager of my record label introduced me to the four Italians in front of me.
“I know who they are. I was rooting for you guys! Your performance was phenomenal, and I’m obsessed with your song. Welcome to RCA, you guys made a great choice with them.”
“Thank you so much, that means a lot. We, especially I, am a huge fan of yours.“ Victoria told me.
Throughout the night I mostly talked to them. They were super nice and funny. Especially a certain guitarist.
One week later we were laying on Thomas’ couch, my head resting on his chest.
“I just want to have a real connection with someone, you know? Not this fake shit everyone’s telling me is love. ‘You two look so cute together’ they always say, and at some point you just start to believe that you’re actually in love with the person, even though you’re really not. In real life, you’re just in love with the idea of being in love with the one person who is also interested in you, hoping it’s true love. I’m just so tired of it.”, I explained my thoughts to him.
“I totally get what you’re saying. Like we all dream of real love when we get together with someone, but then the relationships just turns into fucking and maybe sharing some nice moments together.“
Did he just read my thoughts? There was no way he just said what I was thinking of just a few seconds ago. I just hummed in response and cuddled myself closer to him. His grip around me also tightened. I felt safe., loved and understood at that moment. I haven't felt like this in ages.
Thinking back, I just realized how special that exact moment actually was. It really felt like we connected on a different level that night. He already made me feel things after 3 conversations, that I didn’t feel after three months with Josh. Thomas really is the best.
As I'm laying on your chest
I'll be out here thinkin' 'bout it, boy, it's just a guess
But something just keeps telling me I'm better than the rest
And I ain't tryna rush you, but goddamn, I'm a mess, mess, mess
The next night my head was resting on his chest again. Taking in the warmth and love his body radiated, as I thought about all the girls, that would kill to be in my position right now. I stalked his Instagram, while I was having breakfast this morning. A lot of girls are obsessed with him, but I can’t blame them. I have known him for only a bit more than a week now, and I am obsessed with him too.
He just has this special something, the other boys are missing. Everything about him, from his looks that remind me of a 70s rock star to his cute personality, makes me crazy. I know he feels like this about me too. The way he smiles, when I’m with him, gives it away. Hence, I don’t want to rush it. I always rush into relationships, as the craving to receive love from someone else is too strong. It’s like craving someone's touch, when you are touch starved. My whole life I am craving this special love from someone. This real love. I never found it in the people that I dated. The only thing I found, was the feeling of not being able to find real love someday. I don’t want to make it worse, by rushing into things again, just to get disappointed again. But it is hard not to rush, when you’re a love craving mess.
And if it feels right, promise I don't mind
And if it feels right, promise I'll stay here all night
“I wish we could stay like this forever. Just laying on my couch talking about all the things that come to our mind. It just feels right.”, Thomas, broke the silence.
“I wouldn’t mind that, to be honest. Maybe we should start with staying like this for the night instead of forever.” I responded.
The cute Italian just nodded his head, with a huge smile on his face.
Oh Lord, I'm drowning, I'm gonna need that coast guard
And when it comes to that boy, he gives me amnesia
I’m just looking for love
Thinking back, I could really use this forever. I feel like I was drowning in an ocean of loneliness and Thomas just pulled me out by holding me in his arms. When I am with him, I forget about all the past relationships I had. The relationships that ruined me even more. Josh is long forgotten when smiles at me and rests his head on mine.
Just let me lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-love you, you
Just let me lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-love you, you
Just let me lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-love you, you
Just let me lo-o-o-o-o-o-o-love you, you
‘wanna hang out tonight?’
A smile appeared on my face when I saw the message I received from Thomas.
‘Is this even a question? YESSSS! I’m just gonna finish this song, and then I’ll be on my way xx’, I quickly responded
‘Great! Can’t wait to see you”
I hope, he genuinely wants to spend time with me on the long run and not just until he looses his interest in me. I really do hope that's not going to happen, and he’ll let me love him. After all, that’s all I want to do to.
Side Note: I am, by no means, a medical student okay? This isn’t gonna include a lot of medical jargon. This is just to test this AU to see if I’m gonna be invested in this idea. And to see if you guys like it too, I do like sharing my work.
Plus small age difference, Talbott is 27 while Judith is 25.
Judith went over her clipboard, reviewing the information on her latest patient as she sipped on her green tea.
Talbott Winger. 27 year old male, six foot tall, weighing at 183 pounds. Came in with a fatal bullet wound in the chest, just missing his right lung by a two inches.
The night the young man came in was one of her rare nights off, being called at 1 AM at night to come in to do an emergency surgery to save the man’s life.
The operation was deemed a success, Talbott has been sleep induced to help his recovery process, but Judith had yet to return home. Even after one of her closest friends, Chiara, insisted that she could take over from there. But Judith was rather stubborn, and stayed.
She was running off of caffeine and the energic buzz of her work place to help keep her going. She was doing her last round and was visiting the poor man who found himself at the wrong end of someone’s gun.
She finally entered her patient’s room to check his vitals. This stuff was like clockwork for her, she was so absorbed into her work that she didn’t noticed red eyes staring at her.
Talbott awoke to the beeping sound of a heart monitor and gentle, but firm, hands wrapping something around his arm.
He felt groggy as he opened his eyes, trying to remember what lead him up to this point.
He could remember gunshots, shouting, police sirens, the searing pain of a bullet entering his body, Tonks’ yelling at him to ‘stay with me, you bastard! You can’t die on me now!’-
He blinked a few more times as reality sunk in.
He was shot in the midst of a home invasion and was taken to the hospital. His chest still hurt but it was to the point it was bearable.
He finally took a look at who was tending to him, only for his heart to skip a beat.
A young woman was mumbling under her breath as she jotted down some notes on her clipboard. She looked to be about his age or so. She at least half a foot shorter than him, but had a “no nonsense” air about her that made her seem taller. She had dark flawless dark skin, long brown black locs set in a high ponytail, and the most breathtaking eyes he has ever seen.
A pale shade of gold.
Talbott swallowed briefly.
‘I’m in so much trouble...’
Talbott used to be a married man. He married his high school sweetheart, Badeea Ali, when he was 22. But after just four years of marriage, things fell apart. With Badeea traveling to showcase her art and him working in the police force, spending time together grew to be nonexistent. They still cared for each other and remained friends, but Talbott never dated again afterwards.
He focused on his work rather than dating. Even though Tonks, Andre, Penny, Nuri, Chiara, and his ex-wife Badeea were all insisting that he go out on a date with someone. He always said that nobody caught his eye and that he just wasn’t interested.
Now here he was, probably still high off of painkillers, staring at this young woman in black scrubs and a white coat as if he was hit by Cupid’s arrow. He bit the inside of his cheek as he studied her facial features. His heart skipped another beat when she stepped closer to replace the IV needle in his arm. A faint sweet smell wafted up to his nose, making him feel lax.
And he knew it wasn’t the pain meds...
‘Definitely in so much trouble...’
Judith paused when she heard a small irregularity in the heart monitor, her eyes finding red ones staring back at her. She rose a brow in surprise finding some clarity in those beautiful red irises...
‘Wait, beautiful?’ Judith mentally shook her head.
‘Chiara maybe be right. I need to some damn sleep if I’m thinking like that...’
“Ah, awake I see. Hello, Mr. Winger. My name is Judith Harris, I’m your assigned doctor as you recover here at Saint Mungos. How are you feeling?”
‘Like a high school boy with a crush...’
Talbott willed his brain to function on responding and not focusing trying to figure out that sweet accent in her voice-
“Thank you, Ms. Harris. I feel a little groggy. Slight chest pain but nothing too unbearable,” he answered. Judith nodded promptly, making slight note of this. Talbott took note that she didn’t correct him to say “Mrs.”, meaning she wasn’t married.
‘Don’t go jumping to conclusions, she could have a boyfriend...’
“Do you remember how you got here, Mr. Winger,” she asked, looking up from her clipboard to study her patient.
Judith would be a damn liar if she said that the young cop wasn’t piquing her interest. He was rather handsome. Dark skin (though a few shades lighter than her own), sharp angular features, thick sharp brows, trim bicolor hair, full lips, and piercing red eyes.
He had a dark, mysterious vibe to him that appealed to her. Eyes that spoke of secrets about his personality...
And she felt tempted to look into them to see if she could figure them out.
She mentally shook her head again.
Goodness gracious, her singlehood was showing again...
She hasn’t dated since college, after her last failed relationship. All her closest friends have seen what type of mess she was the days after the fact before she just buried herself in her studies.
She wanted to enter the medical field from a young age. To be like her dear father and help people. She’d be damned if she was going to let a break up over a man ruin her dream.
Even though that meant cutting off dating altogether.
David, Nuri, Chiara, Orion, Rath, Bill, Jae, Andre, even her aging father Kendrick have been on her ass about at least going out on a date. She always shut all of them with all types of excuses. Biggest one was that she wasn’t interested in ANY one.
And out of all people on God’s green Earth, it had to be a patient under her care.
Bloody hell, she should schedule a vacation after this...
“I remember being shot...” Judith snapped out of her musings when the deep voice of her patient reached her ears.
“Yes, my team and I were able to remove the bullet and keep you stabilized. You’re quite lucky, just two more inches to the right, that bullet would’ve punctured your lung,” she said. Good, no signs of memory loss...
“Lucky indeed... enough to be saved by an angel...” Gold eyes blinked at him in surprise and Talbott realized that he said that out loud.
Judith cleared her throat.
“W-Well Mr. Winger, by the looks of things, you seem to be healing quite well. This is the end of my shift, so if you have an questions, require anything, or need assistance, just press the buzzer and your assigned nurse, Ms. Lobosca, will come and assist. I’ll see you soon, Mr. Winger. Have a good night.” Talbott didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to his beautiful doctor (surgeon?) as she briskly walked out of his room. He groaned.
Summary: Before she was Verai Marcel, she was Hui Min, servant of the powerful Lin family in San Francisco’s Chinatown. She meets Mateo Delgado, a bounty hunter who will become the biggest part of her life. She just doesn't know it yet.
Author’s Notes: I'm using the pinyin spelling and Mandarin pronunciation of Min's name, but the Chinese who lived in San Francisco's Chinatown in the 1880s were predominantly Cantonese speaking. I've done some research, but I'm definitely not an expert on this time period. Given that this takes place in the Red Dead universe, I’m making an alternate history and working that into my story. Also stealing from myself, since I took Grace’s backstory and altered it for my RDO OC, haha.
Tags: RDO OC, period racism, some historical inaccuracies, smut, 10 year age gap, tragedy, character death
Word Count: 4415
San Francisco, 1888
Mateo rode through San Francisco, eyes wide like a child's as he took in the city. He hadn't been to such a large city before, having mostly stayed in Southern California his whole life. But after his brother died, he had to get away from everything familiar. He even shaved his mustache, cut his hair short, and started going by his nickname, the name his mother would call him when they had been living near the San Pasqual Valley.
He took off his drifter hat and ran a hand through his shorter hair. Fanning himself for a minute before fitting his hat back onto his head, he looked around at the roads, the people, the closeness of everything, and shuddered slightly. It was too crowded for his liking, but he had to make some connections here so he could start getting better bounty jobs. His wallet was starting to look a bit thin. As he passed the hotels in town with their fancy signs, he had the distinct feeling he couldn't afford even two hours in these places.
Riding onwards towards the police station, he spotted a group of bounty hunters milling around outside the front doors. Furrowing his brow, he dismounted and led his horse over to a hitching post. Mateo pat Paco's neck before taking his muzzle between his hands and stared his companion straight in the eyes.
"Now you behave, Paquito."
His horse, as if he knew that Mateo was making fun of him, huffed in his face.
Laughing, Mateo gave him one last pat before heading over to the group of men. Tapping one of them on the shoulder, he asked what was happening.
"Big hunt happening today," the man said before turning back around, dismissing him.
Mateo didn't have time to be offended. The doors opened and two officers came out with a stack of papers. Handing them out to each man, one of the officers shoved a paper into his hands without a word.
He noticed the poorly drawn faces, caricature-like in quality. The pictures were of three Chinese men accused of opium smuggling.
As the crowd dispersed around him, Mateo kept reading the fine print.
Women and children may be living with them. Bring them in alive to be deported.
Mateo curled his lip. He didn't like the sound of that one bit.
As he mounted up and started heading towards Chinatown with the rest of the hunters, he questioned whether or not he should do this job. But as his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't had money for a decent meal in weeks, he took a deep breath and decided to move forward. He had to eat.
And at least if he was there, maybe he could help spare the innocent.
"Siu Jeh, we have to go, now," Min said in a rush, hurriedly packing her mistress's clothes in a bag.
"But I still need to pack all of my makeup–"
"There's no time," she interrupted, grabbing the young woman's wrist and pulling her towards the door. "The train leaves for Vancouver in an hour. We still need to get to the train station without being spotted."
The woman pulled her wrist back and slapped Min across her cheek. Not hard, but enough to shock her.
"I know that! You don't have to pull me along like some errant child."
Min kept her eyes down and just nodded as she mumbled an apology. But you are certainly acting like one, she thought to herself.
Mateo leaned against a post, watching as the train started to let on passengers. He knew that if the Lin men wanted to escape, the best way would be to sneak out and board this train headed for Canada.
He had talked to some of the officers along the way to Chinatown, and had gotten some news that the city was trying for any excuse to get rid of what they called "the yellow threat." Mateo hated the term and hated what they were trying to do. He had grown up in a town with a decent number of Chinese immigrants and had found them to be decent, hardworking, and frugal people.
But what did anyone care about what he thought? They only cared when he was taking down dangerous criminals that threatened their land. If he wasn’t being useful, he was as good as dog meat.
As his eyes wandered around the passengers, one man stood out amongst the crowd. With his traditional garb and long braided queue, he looked like many of the other Chinese men boarding the train, but the shimmering silk of his inner coat gave away his status. Glancing down at his bounty poster to be sure, Mateo started to make his way through the crowd towards the man.
When the man spotted him coming towards him, he casually started to move away towards the edge of the crowd, but Mateo could tell he had figured out that he was being followed. Seeing the man give a quick shake of his head, he suddenly felt several other men starting to crowd him, slowing his progress.
Mateo quickly ducked and snaked his way out of the crowd, leaping onto crates that lined the boarding area. Men began to point at him and mumble, but he kept his eye on his target.
Then he heard a shot being fired into the air. Passengers ducked and began to scramble away from the source of the sound, chaos erupting in mere seconds.
Turning his head, he saw one of the younger bounty hunters, a wicked grin on his face.
Damn kids, don’t know how to do anything.
Looking back at his bounty, he was surprised to see him surrounded by four women who were quickly ushering him onto the train. Two women who looked older were pushing him forward, while the other two younger women followed behind.
The younger bounty hunter charged forward, his gun aimed in front.
Mateo acted without thinking.
“Don’t shoot at them, idiota!” he yelled, leaping off the crate and barreling after the man. “We’re not supposed to kill them!”
The young hunter didn’t listen to him, quickly firing two shots, aiming high. Their bounty ducked onto the train, followed by the older women as the train started to move from the station.
One of the younger women turned back to look at her pursuers for a moment. In that time, the other woman shoved her off the train step, shrieking something in her language before disappearing further into the train.
Mateo’s heart stopped as he watched her stumble from the moving train, her face in shock.
The other hunter got closer, his gun suddenly aiming lower, towards the woman.
“No!” Mateo shouted, reaching out for him.
He never got a chance.
In a burst of speed, the woman charged forward, knocking the gun out of the man’s hand with a whirlwind kick. The sound of cracking bones echoed in the air as the man pulled his hand back with a pained yelp, followed by a grunt and whoosh of air leaving his lungs as he was kicked in the solar plexus. He doubled over, clutching his torso in pain. Without pause, the woman twirled back around and landed a devastating kick to the back of the man’s head, bringing him down to the ground before she leaped up and landed on his back, forcing him prone. She stomped on the back of his neck again, a loud crack sounding far too final for Mateo’s ears.
The woman looked up at him and met his eyes. She looked cold, calculating, and far too young to be used to doing this sort of thing. Mateo held his hands up in surrender.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said quickly, wondering if she could even understand him.
The sound of the train whistle blowing nearly blocked out the thunder of other people coming closer to the train platform. They both turned to see the other hunters running their way; they must have figured out the train escape plan by now.
The other woman quickly turned and fled.
Without thinking about why, Mateo chased after her. Behind him, people were leaping onto the train car, getting inside, chasing down the actual bounties. But Mateo only chased the mysterious woman, following her along the train tracks as she desperately tried to get back to the same train car.
Pulling out his bolas, he waited for the right moment, knowing that if he threw them poorly, she might get caught under the train as she fell. He saw his chance and flung them with practiced ease. The bolas flew through the air, catching her legs and making her tumble forwards and away from the train.
As he caught up to her, he saw her reach down to untangle herself. Kneeling down to look at her, he waited a moment before speaking.
“Hey,” he said softly.
A fist shot out at him. He barely dodged.
“Whoa, hold on, I said I’m not here to hurt you!”
“Then what is this,” the woman snarled in slightly accented English, pointing down at her feet.
“You speak English?”
“Yes, do you?”
Mateo grimaced. “Fair point.” He stepped back. Looking at her, in her light blue blouse and trousers, her black slip-on shoes and socks, and her long black hair dirtied from tumbling down in the grass, he felt a little sorry for her.
“Listen, I can take you back to your family. Where were you headed?”
She looked up at him with a critical eye. “You just want to know where they went so you can bring in the bounty.”
Mateo shrugged. Points to her for figuring out a classic strategy. “We only want the men. The women and children were not to be harmed.”
“Forcing us to leave our home is harm, don’t you think?”
He scratched his chin. This woman was pointing out the thing he didn't want to think about, he could give her that. He was regretting taking this job; he didn’t like this kind of work. Sighing heavily, he sat down across from her and watched as she continued to untangle the bolas. Finally she stopped and looked up at him, looking lost.
“If I don’t take you to them, what will you do with me?”
Mateo thought for a moment. “Well, the other hunters got onto the train. They probably caught him by now. Maybe I’ll take you back to your mother and sister.”
“They were not my mother and sister.”
He blinked. “The girl who pushed you out of the train? Who was she then?”
Mateo raised an eyebrow. “So you were, what, her servant?”
He nodded. “Ah, I see.” After a moment of awkward silence, he asked, “Do you want to go back?”
The woman tilted her head and stared past him for a few moments. “No, I guess I don’t.” She lay back on the grass and let out a heavy sigh. “Guess I’m free of them, finally.”
Mateo’s heart clenched a bit. To say that she was free meant that she had no choice but to serve. He reached for her ankles to free her from the bolas, but she quickly grabbed his wrists and twisted.
“Ouch, hey, do you want out of these or not?” he bit out, his voice strained.
The woman let him go, but stared at him distrustingly. He slowly undid the bolas and put them back onto his belt. Holding out his hand to her, he waited patiently while she looked at him like he was the dirt beneath her feet.
He was used to that look, so it didn’t bother him. He just waited.
Finally she took his hand and he helped her up.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Mateo,” he replied. “If you don’t want to go back to your… mistress, then what do you want to do?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never been asked that before.”
Mateo swallowed. “Never? Not once in your entire life?”
Min shook her head.
“How… how old are you?”
He was almost ten years older than her. Remembering how ignorant he was at that age, he felt the need to help her. Unable to stop himself, he patted her head comfortingly. “Well, I’m asking you now. What do you want to do with the rest of your life?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what the options are for me.”
Mateo frowned. As a Chinese woman, she had very few options if she were by herself.
Remembering how she had taken down that other hunter, he quickly came to a decision.
"I could train you to be a bounty hunter."
She looked at him. "What does that entail?"
He grinned. He was looking forward to having an apprentice.
Six months had passed in the blink of an eye. Min was smart, snarky, and strong. In exchange for bounty hunter training and showing her how the outside world worked, she trained him in Wing Chun, solidly kicking his ass for weeks before he finally managed to block successfully.
Mateo did notice that she had some weaknesses. She didn't know when to ask for help. She didn't know when to voice her opinion and would just suffer quietly. When he got mad at her once for not telling him about a wound, she had flinched away.
He vowed not to yell at her again, not like that, but he had to admit, he tended to lose control when it came to Min's wellbeing.
"Min, you have to tell me these things so I can help take care of you," he said gently after seeing her curl in upon herself after his chastisement. He hadn't yelled at her this time, but he had lectured her on why he needed to know her health. She had a terrible habit of hiding her wounds.
"Alright," she mumbled.
"Now let me see your arm," he said.
They had spent the past six months in the same tent, lying side by side, giving each other enough privacy that they had not seen each other with less than a shirt and pants on. So for Mateo to suddenly demand this of Min made her feel shy, despite their relative comfort level with each other.
"Do I have to?"
"We have to treat the wound or you'll get infected. Then it'll just get worse, and you might die."
"Then tell me when you're hurt."
She sighed. "Fine." Slowly unbuttoning her shirt, she pulled her arm out of her sleeve with some difficulty.
Mateo held his breath. She was wearing her halter top chemise, one of the clothing items she had from her past life. It exposed her back, and in the light of the campfire, he could see the light scars of a whip criss crossing her back.
"Oh, Min," he said sadly, reaching towards her and gently brushing his fingers along one of the scars. "Why did they do this to you?"
She shrugged. "I took the whips for my mistress when she was disobedient so she could stay unblemished for her future husband."
Mateo saw red for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he focused on gathering the medical supplies from his saddle bag and took care of her wound, cleaning and dressing it in silence.
"I wasn't meant for marriage anyway," Min said after he had finished putting the supplies away. "I was just a servant."
"You're more than that," he said as he helped her back into her shirt. "You're a bounty hunter now. One day you'll be one of the best. You'll get job offers across the states, you'll see."
She was silent for a few moments, taking in his words. Then she looked at him curiously before speaking.
"Why are your letters addressed to Matthew?"
Mateo swallowed. He hadn't told her that he was one of the Delgado brothers, the famous pair of bounty hunters that had taken down gang after gang of outlaws across four states. He'd laid low for almost a year, hopefully long enough for the gang that killed his brother to think he was dead too.
But she wouldn't tell anyone. She'd proven herself to be a tactful partner.
"Mateo is just a nickname that my mother called me. My real name is Matthew Delgado."
When Min's face remained blank, he tilted his head slightly in disbelief. "You, uh, never heard of that name?"
"Why would I have? I grew up in Chinatown."
Of course, why did he think she'd know? He chuckled to himself, feeling foolish for thinking he was more infamous than he actually was. Reaching out to her, he gently grasped her shoulder and pulled her against him in a friendly side hug.
She stiffened for a moment, but didn't fight his embrace. To his surprise, she leaned closer to him, her head leaning against his shoulder. He looked down and saw her eyes flutter shut, a soft, shy smile on her lips.
His heart shifted.
He had always looked at her as a pupil, a partner, a friend.
Now he saw her as a woman, with her pleasant curves beneath his hand, her softness pressing against his body. When she looked up at him, her dark eyes full of trust, his body reacted on pure instinct.
He gently gripped her chin and guided her head to just the right angle. Without a second thought, he leaned down and kissed her.
She was sweet, soft, innocent.
Mateo's hunger stirred, and he deepened the kiss, his lips moving along hers, craving her every soft breath. His tongue flicked out to run along her lower lip before he pressed his forehead against hers and opened his eyes.
He was met with her surprised gaze. Quickly moving back, he felt ashamed that he had given into his base desires. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."
Min just nodded, growing very quiet. He watched her shrink in on herself, and knew that she was thinking poorly of herself again.
"It's fine," she whispered. "I understand."
"No, you don't," he said immediately. "I'm 10 years older than you. You deserve someone better than an old man like me."
Min looked at him. "But you're the best man I've ever met," she said sincerely. "I'd happily give my first time to you."
Mateo's heart suddenly started pounding erratically. Lord, did she have any idea what she was doing to him? A possessive feeling began to curl around his soul. He could almost hear a whisper in his mind, covetous, dark, lustful.
Make her yours. Take her, mark her, teach her to be your woman.
He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He tried to shut out the darkness in his heart.
Then he felt her hand on his clenched fist. Opening his eyes to look at her, he found solace in the kindness in her eyes.
"I trust you, Mateo. Please."
He had been so close to regaining control of his desires, but her soft words were his undoing.
In the space of a heartbeat, he fell upon her like an animal, pressing her into the bedroll, his cock growing hard against her thigh as he kissed her. When he pulled away for breath, part of him rejoiced at the disheveled look of her.
Part of him was disgusted by his barbaric reaction. He moved back and held her face in his hands, caressing her cheeks, her hair, the curve of her ear. Why had he never noticed her beauty before?
No, it wasn't that he hadn't noticed, it was that he had been ignoring his feelings. He had known from day one that she was beautiful. But he had set aside everything to keep her at arm's length. It had been hell on his libido, and every time they had stayed near a town, he had disappeared into a red light district to slake his lust on a willing worker, but it had never been enough. Never enough.
Now, the one he truly wanted was in his arms, under his body, and he was in heaven.
"You're so beautiful, Min. I'm losing control."
Min wrapped her legs around him, the rough fabric of their pants keeping them apart, allowing Mateo to maintain his wits for a few seconds more.
"I want it all, Mateo. I want all of you."
He cursed under his breath as he pulled away and fumbled with her pants and drawers, revealing her to the open air. It was a nice summer night, a soft breeze in the air. Under the moonlight and with the campfire, she looked like a goddess, just for him. He shifted lower so he could kiss his way down her body.
Min ran her fingers through his thick hair as he settled himself between her legs. Pressing her thighs apart, he dove in, his lips wrapping around her core. His tongue stroked her languidly, a low hum vibrating against her sensitive bud.
"What are you doing to me?" she gasped as her hips bucked against his face. She grabbed his hair and mewled softly when he slipped a finger along her lower lips.
"Gettin' you ready for me, sweets," he said as he pressed a finger inside of her.
All she could do was moan as he stretched her, pressing a second finger inside, working in and out of her. He pressed his thumb to her clit and stroked her in tandem with his fingers, until she was sweating and trembling. Lifting himself up, he stroked the hair off her forehead and kissed her lips, making her taste herself.
"Look me in the eyes, baby."
She did as she was told. Her pupils were blown out with desire as he pushed her higher and higher. Her legs stiffened and her hands gripped his muscular arm. She was panting hard, her chest heaving as she felt a wave coming to overtake her.
"Let go for me, let me see you come apart," Mateo commanded in a deep rumble.
Min's back arched as she came, her body going rigid for a moment before she spasmed, her channel milking his fingers. Mateo watched her throw her head to and fro as she cried out, her grip on his forearm keeping his hand in place, her hips rocking on his hand, slick with her juices.
"Fuck, I have to have you, now," he gritted out as he quickly reached down to free himself from his pants. Wasting no time, he rolled on top of her and thrust inside her wet, pliable body.
Min cried out, and Mateo stopped moving. He felt guilty for taking her so roughly, forgetting in a moment of uncontrolled lust that this was her first time with a man. He got onto his haunches and touched her cheek.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm so sorry—“
Min lifted her hips and forced him further inside of her.
"Take me, 'Teo."
Hearing her soft plea flipped a switch inside of him. His hips moved like a machine, pounding hard into her, his cock harder than it had ever been in his life. She made him so hot and possessive, he could barely breathe.
"My sweet girl," he murmured. "Mine, all mine. I won't let anyone else have you."
"I won't let anyone else have me either," she breathed, her hips lifting to meet his every thrust.
Mateo embraced her, holding her close as their bodies rocked together, becoming one in their pursuit of connection. He groaned as he felt himself fall apart, his hips crushing hers into the bedroll.
"Min, sweet Min," he moaned as he came, losing himself to joyous ecstasy. Her arms and legs wrapped around him, and just as much as he was protecting her, she held him close and sheltered him from the world.
"I never want to leave your arms," he said after he caught his breath.
"I feel the same, 'Teo," she said, running her hands up and down his strong back. Her fingers ran along his scars, and he shuddered at the light, sensual touch.
He would never want another woman ever again. Min was the only one for him.
New Austin, 1898
The sky was orange, like fire had been set on the horizon. Min sat near the familiar headstone, brushing her hands along the worn stone, her fingers tracing the name she had slowly carved herself over the years.
"'Teo," she murmured. "I finally finished your headstone." She looked down for a moment. "With some help. You always said I never learned to ask for help. But I finally did."
She heard footsteps come up behind her, and didn't even turn around. She knew who it was.
Everett set down a small wreath of wildflowers on the grave in front of her before sitting down next to her.
"I think he'd be happy with this," he said.
They looked at the headstone together, the roughly carved words worn in different levels as they were added over the years.
BOUNTY HUNTER, LOVER, FRIEND
"How're you feeling?" Everett asked, watching her carefully. He knew how much she disliked expressing her more complicated emotions, but he also knew that if he didn't help her process them, she would let them fester until she burst.
She was quiet for a moment, looking up at the sky. "I feel at peace. Like I'm finally able to let him go."
He took her hand and squeezed it. "And do you feel that he'd be happy for you?"
Min smiled. "Yes. He'd probably say, 'sweets, you took too damn long to figure yourself out'," she joked. She chuckled softly before turning to Everett with a lonely smile. "Mateo possessed me, heart and soul."
Everett nodded. He had seen her when she was lost in her grief, late at night when she thought he was asleep. He had seen her curled up in a ball, shaking with the effort not to cry. It had broken his heart to see her like that, and it had taken him months to coax her into talking about it.
Min took his hand and squeezed it in return. "Will you do the same?"
"Of course, sweetheart. If you trust me to do so."
She smiled at him, dazzling like the river of stars in the night sky. "I trust you, Everett."
End Notes: So I definitely mixed and matched some history and geography here. San Pasqual Valley is where the city of Ramona is located, named after the titular character of a book about the hardships of living as a mixed race woman, the plight of the Native Americans, and the racism inflicted on the main characters. The town that Mateo grew up in is a reference to Mexicali, a city in Mexico that has a large Chinese immigrant population. Of course, that city didn't exist yet in this time period, but I’m just jamming historical things together to make up an alternate history, since the Red Dead world is an amalgamation anyway. If you’ve read this far, thank you so much for reading this! I know it’s not my typical tale, but I really wanted to tell some of Mateo’s story.
LOOKING FOR NEW RP BUDDIES <3 [MXM || D/S THEMES || LITERATE]
Heya lovely people <3
(Brace yourselves, this is a long one! :D)
Recently, I've found myself in the mood to RP again after losing motivation during the beginning of the pandemic so I'm really hoping this ad will appeal to someone out there and I might find one or two new people to write with! :D
I'll go into detail about what I'm looking to RP in a second, but first of all, a little about me:
I'm female, 21+ and my time zone is GMT+1 (Central Europe). I'm an experienced writer and roleplayer of 10+ years. I exclusively write in 3rd person/past tense and would prefer for you to do the same.
English isn’t my first language but I’m pretty comfortable with it and I always try to keep mistakes to a minimum. Despite that, I hope you will excuse the occasional mistake! I would really prefer for you to have good spelling/grammar as well, but of course I’m not super pedantic about it and don’t mind typos from time to time. Nobody’s perfect, after all!
Usually I go for slower-paced RPs with longer replies since I'm not the fastest writer but recently I've really been in the mood for some faster-paced RPs and consequently, shorter replies. I usually aim for 300-1,500 words per reply but for this I would like to keep replies on the shorter side (at least on average and with no pressure from your side to conform to this, of course).
Obviously the length of the reply would still rely on what is happening in the RP - starters will naturally be longer than replies that heavily depend on how the other character will react.
I'm fine with having a short-term RP although I do enjoy plotting and also some occasional world-building (although admittedly I sometimes need a while to really pitch in with my ideas unless I'm already comfortable with my partners!) so long-term partners would be great!
I love chatting OOC, not only to discuss plot-related stuff but also to get to know who I am RPing with but it’s not mandatory and if you’d rather not that’s A-okay!
I prefer character-focused RPs, I’m not too good at writing action scenes and I tend to get bored of those rather quickly. I’d rather concentrate on my character’s feelings and his interactions with your character and focus on exploring their dynamic and thoughts.
I love conflict/tension in my RPs and I also love exploring more “philosophical” themes in them. I'm a huge fan of angst, (emotional) hurt & comfort, slow burn and similar genres but overall I do want an eventual happy ending. Occassional fluff is cute and more than fine as well, I just need some "meat" to the RP to keep me interested :D
Now, let’s go to what I’m craving the most right now:
I would very much like a RP that focuses on a (consensual) Dom/Sub relationship. I only do MxM pairings. I would prefer to play the dominant character for this.
I would prefer to involve at least some smut for this one (but we could also fade to black if preferred!) but overall I would really like to focus more on exploring the non-sexual aspects of the dynamic between our characters.
In general when it comes to smut, my characters tend to be switches who mainly top but if they do bottom they’re more along the lines of "power bottoms". In any case, they won’t just lie there and need your character to do all the work for them. (Obviously I can adjust that if you prefer to play the more dominant character)
For the D/s stuff I would ask that we discuss this more in depth in private, but in general I don't think I'm super kinky (I would rather not include too many "out there" ones) and my limits are pretty "standard" as well.
Broadly speaking my limits include: age play, bodily fluids, extreme kink/fetishes, mpreg, A/B/O, large age gaps, degradation.
Some key words of stuff I really enjoy (I'll try not to go overtly sexual):
- Praise Kink (!!)
- Titles of Respect
- Terms of Endearment
Some dynamics I enjoy (none of these are a must, of course! This is just to give you a general idea of what I might be looking for):
- the sub being a badass outside of the relationship and only being vulnerable around the dom
- the sub being physically stronger/bigger than the dom (!!!)
- the sub being rather shy/timid
- the dom being a little uncertain of what he wants in the beginning/needing to find himself as a dom
- also the dom in general also getting to be vulnerable
- the sub being super devoted/eager to please
- the sub taking care of the dom
- or: the dom taking care of the sub
- both being really in love with each other
These are the kinds of ideas I'd like to explore (Of course I'm also open to other scenarios/pairings as well, if you have something else in mind!):
Crime Boss x Right-Hand Man:
I'm really craving this one right now! I'm imaging this powerful mobster and his faithful right-hand man who is hopelessly devoted to his boss and willing to do whatever it takes to make sure his boss stays on top. I would prefer for the boss to be the dom and the right-hand man to be the sub.
Son of Crime Boss x Bodyguard:
Celebrity x Bodyguard:
For the first one I'm imagining that the son would be trying to make a name for himself and get out from under his father's thumb (and the bodyguard helping him). For the celebrity one I would imagine the celeb maybe being an actor or some sort of pop/rock star. I would prefer for the bodyguard to be the sub.
Royal x Servant, Royal x Knight:
This can be fantasy/historical (European/East Asian) or even modern. I'm imagining the servant/knight and the royal having been childhood friends and the servant/knight being raised with the knowledge that he would have to protect the royal once he grows up. I really enjoy the idea of one character swearing to serve another for the rest of his life. I would prefer for the knight/servant to be the sub and the royal to be the dom.
Elder Vampire x Fledgling Vampire:
Vampire x Human:
For the first one: Maybe the fledgling vampire was abandoned by his sire and the elder vampire finds him and decides to show him the ropes. For the second one: Maybe the human is a sort of ghoul (like from Vampire: the Masquerade) or human servant or maybe he's just someone the vampire stumbled across while out and about. I would prefer for the (elder) vampire to be the dom and the fledgling/human to be the sub here.
Best Friend x Best Friend:
I got the idea of these college-age guys that slowly discover that they like each other. Maybe they're childhood friends or maybe they've met in college. I’m happy to hear what ideas you might have for this pairing, of course, but a personal favourite of mine is to pair a more stoic (or even grumpy) leaner smart/sarcastic guy with a more jock-like/buff guy who is perpetually happy and optimistic who follows character A around and eventually endears himself to him through sheer persistence.
I love exploring soulmate AUs, I’m a sucker for all variations of this trope but I’ve been thinking about an idea for a society that places each member of a bonded pair in one of two categories, and members of one category are treated as lesser in society/expected to serve their other half. For this I would definitely like to do some more world-building and really exploring the philosophy of this world as well! It would also be cool to have our character maybe fight against the expectations set by this society but I'm definitely open to other ideas as well!
Apart from that I enjoy a lot of different variations of the soulmate trope but my favourite is the classic idea that involves soulmates having a sort of mark on them that helps them identify who their partner is <3
Make a suggestion!
I don't have an pre-made OCs so I would come up with a character once we've decided on a plot but of course you can use whatever character you want! I usually don't use FC and just describe what I imagine my character to look like but if you can point me to some good FC ressources I would be willing to look for one if it's important to you! The ages of my characters depend on the plot/dynamic we're going for but they mostly tend to be around 20-45!
Fandoms: Harry Potter, Supernatural, Dragon Age, Detroit: Become Human, Vampires: the Masquerade, Marvel/Avengers, DC, Batman/Joker, Merlin (BBC), Shameless (US).
At the moment I really enjoy the pairing of Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz (they're the inspiration for the Crime Boss x Right-Hand Man idea) so if anyone is up for that pairing as well, let me know! I also really enjoy the pairing Mickey x Ian (Gallavich) from the show Shameless, if anyone is interested in that one!).
I would prefer not to RP anything involving child abuse, underage characters in sexual situations, incest and similar themes. (I’m fine with these things being part of your character’s back story and your character dealing with the after-effects of them but I don’t want to actively RP them!).
I’m also exclusively looking for MxM pairings, so please don’t contact me if you’re looking for someone to RP a MxF plot with! And please be at least 18+. I don’t feel comfortable RPing with anyone younger, even if the RP doesn’t have any smut in it.
I mostly RP on Discord these days, but I'm also open to other mediums, mainly E-mail, tumblr or GoogleDocs!
I would prefer for you to already have a plot in mind (or at least a vague idea of what you want to roleplay) before contacting me!
Thank you for reading all of this! Have a great day & stay safe and healthy!
warning: sexual assault, self-harm, suicidal thoughts
"What are you still doing here?"
Taehyung's heart stilled.
The ability to feel his body and think clearly slipped out of his grasp. That night was a blurry memory filled with shame and guilt. His skin had dirty fingerprints and handprints all over it. He discovered them when he woke up. Taehyung dragged himself to the bathroom. A small clock told him that it was past four. What was he doing here anyway?
He took a long glance at himself. Taehyung gripped the counter. His clothes were sticky.
"Oh, Taehyung, are you in there?"
His breathing slowed down. Tears dotted his eyes. He didn't want to go through that again.
There were pictures. Taehyung had been told repeatedly. Pictures of him in the most vulnerable positions. The janitor would have no hesitation in releasing them when given the chance. Taehyung tried to pay her off. It didn't work. She didn't want money, she wanted to ruin his reputation and make him the laughing stock of the world.
"Don't tell anyone," she told him. "Unless you want pictures of your bare ass printed off on newspapers. You don't want videos of you on PornHub, do you?"
The worry ate Taehyung alive. It wasn't his fault, he knew it wasn't, but he found himself wondering why it was him who had to go through it. He didn't know how to deal with it. The bruises and handprints had faded, but he could still see the faint outline of them on his body. Taehyung spent ages in the shower, trying to get them off. They were tattooed onto him.
The others didn't notice anything up at all, other than the fact that Taehyung was quieter and was using up more of the hot water.
The steam in the shower was suffocating. So was Taehyung's predicament and trauma.
Why had he let her use him like that? Why hadn't he told her to stop? Why didn't he push her off?
"Are you okay?" Hoseok asked.
Taehyung nodded. He felt tears cling to his eyes.
"Is something going on Taehyungie? You can always talk to me if you need someone."
"I'm okay, hyung."
Did any of the others know?
Taehyung panicked. The others were probably disgusted with him. They probably knew what happened to him. Maybe they had already seen the pictures. Maybe they had shared the videos to their friends. Maybe they had laughed at him.
He blinked up at Yoongi, who offered him a light smile.
"I'm okay. I'm just worried about the new dance."
"Ahhh... do you want me to help you with it?"
"Nah, I'm okay. Thanks for asking though."
Was something wrong with him? Yoongi wondered. Taehyung seemed detached from them now. Something was definitely wrong.
A few nights later, Taehyung decided to try something. He rummaged around in his cabinet before he found his razor and blades. He had done it a few times before in high school, when the pressure of studying got too much for him, but he had never really gotten addicted to it. Taehyung was scared of pain. In the past, no matter how much he had hated himself, he hadn't managed to hurt himself frequently.
He ran the blade over the skin of his wrist a few times. The sting of the the sharp edge was dull. Taehyung wasn't really pressing it in.
He got mad at himself. This was important. He needed to know how to do this.
The burning and stinging in his arm got sharper. Taehyung gritted his teeth. He pressed deep into his arm, slicing his skin back and forth. His newfound rage fueled him. He wanted to destroy himself. When he stopped to gaze at his arm, it was a mess of blood and pale skin. Taehyung turned on the cold water and held his arm underneath it. He felt stupid. A clean roll of bandages was soon pressed onto his arm and he relaxed. The cuts stung, but he felt proud of himself. Taehyung grinned a lopsided grin in the mirror. He felt so good about himself.
He made sure to lock the door every time he did it. Namjoon was horribly nosy. Taehyung didn't want to face his questions. He started wearing long-sleeve shirts. There wasn't a single day when he managed to stay completely calm. He flinched when someone touched him. Jungkook tried to hug him once. Did not end well. Taehyung managed to play it off as him being extra ticklish that time, but he had realized from Jungkook's face that the youngest had not bought it.
The members were starting to be more aware. Taehyung could tell. Jin didn't yell at him in the morning the same way he did to the others. He was gentler. He made Taehyung eat the biggest piece of chicken and gave him the coldest water. Taehyung would've appreciated that, but he wasn't usually in the mood to eat and drink. He spent his time thinking and freaking out about how there must be people who already had access to the videos and pictures. He thought about how he looked in them. Dumb. Weak. Pathetic.
The nightmares sometimes came back. Taehyung scrubbed his legs in the shower until they bled. He wanted those marks gone.
Taehyung had a new thing to be paranoid about too: someone discovering the lines on his arms. He tried his best to keep them as hidden as he could, but with how close the members were, it was only a matter of time before one of them found out.
"Taehyung, what are those?"
Taehyung stiffened. Jimin was looking at him with a concerned gaze.
"What is what?" he asked, forcing himself to bring a smile to his lips.
"That. Those lines on your arms."
Taehyung's breathing hitched. Jimin was silly, he could trick him, couldn't he?
"Taehyung, are you cutting yourself?"
"Tell me the truth."
"Then why do you have scratches on your arms? Don't tell that is a cat, because there are no cats around here."
Taehyung shook his head. "There are no scratches on my arms. You-"
Jimin grabbed his arm and pulled up the sleeve himself. There was a whole array of different angled cuts and scrapes on Taehyung's arms. Jimin's eyes filled up with tears looking at them.
"What's going on Tae? Why are you doing this?"
Taehyung shook his head. "I-I... mm not doing anything. I was just testing it out."
Taehyung had never heard so much rage in Jimin's rage. He snapped his head up to see that in Jimin's expression.
"What's going on Taehyung?"
Jimin narrowed his eyes. He leaned closer to Taehyung, trying to soothe him. "If you're hurting yourself, it is something big," he said gently.
"I guess." Taehyung kept his mouth screwed shut. He was not going to tell anybody what happened.
"Please don't do this anymore."
"I... ee... it's not that easy Jimin-"
"Just try." Jimin looked Taehyung in the eye. "I know you can do it Taehyung. See, hurting yourself isn't helping you in any way. Any time you feel that you're ready to talk, I'm always here."
Jimin's words were sincere, but Taehyung couldn't tell him anything. He wanted to stop cutting and hurting himself too, but he didn't know how.
He couldn't stop. Taehyung tried. He really did. But after a certain point, his wrist was itching and he desperately wanted to feel what it was like to run a blade over his skin. He craved that feeling.
One good thing was that the janitor that had hurt him had gotten fired. She failed a drug test. Taehyung got even more scared. Now she could release the images whenever she wanted to!
Taehyung let his frustration out on himself. Why had he been so stupid that night? Why hadn't he said something? Why had he let her take pictures of him? No amount of crying nor cutting was ending him. Maybe Taehyung should just kill himself. Maybe that would help. Yes. Then nobody would care if naked pictures of him and videos of him moaning came out. Then it wouldn't matter.
Maybe he should start trying.
He could do it.
His breathing hitched. There were footsteps right outside the bathroom door.
"Is anyone in there?"
Taehyung was in there. He was laying on the floor next to his razor. There was blood on his wrist. He had been about to get up and wash it off, but he had gotten a bit dizzy.
But now Hoseok was right outside. Taehyung had thought that everyone was at practice, but no.
"I need to take a shower but Jungkook is taking one of his famous long baths in my bathroom."
Taehyung heard Hoseok sigh.
"I guess there's nobody in here."
The doorknob turned. With a start, Taehyung realized it was unlocked. He scrambled, trying to pull his sleeve over his arm, but it was too late.
"Tae...hyung? Why didn't you answer me?"
"What..." Hoseok grabbed Taehyung's arm and gaped at the cuts. "What's going on? Why are you doing this?"
"I'm going to tell the others and-"
Hoseok shook his head. "This has been going on for a while, I can tell. If I don't tell someone, you won't get the help that you need!"
"I don't need help!"
"Something is bothering you!"
Taehyung took a step back, trying to cool himself. Hoseok was a bit shorter than him, and he looked intimidated by him.
"Nothing-nothing is wrong with me Hoseok hyung, I promise," he said quietly.
"No, something is. I know you well Taehyung. Don't try to lie to me."
"Taehyung?" Namjoon asked. "Can you tell us what happened?"
Taehyung stared down numbly at his toes. He wanted to go to his room. Namjoon was being too gentle.
"Someone else should start," Yoongi said.
"I caught him cutting a few weeks back," Jimin mumbled. "I asked him what was wrong and he said he was fine. I told him to stop cutt-"
"That doesn't work," Taehyung said.
"I know," Jimin said.
"Yeah, I think I've told my side of the story already," Hoseok said. "I don't know what's going on."
"Taehyungie?" Jin asked. "You can trust us. We won't judge."
Taehyung shook his head. What happened to him was embarrassing.
Gosh, this was driving him crazy.
"I was hurt."
"What do you mean? Hurt?"
"You got beat up?"
"Hurt. I-I... um... was hurt."
"You can trust us," Jin said again.
"I got hurt. By someone. I don't know her name."
"What did she do to you?"
"Why didn't you tell us before?"
"Hey, be quiet all of you," Namjoon said. He turned back to Taehyung whose eyes were wide and filled with tears. "What do you mean by hurt Taehyungie? What did she do to you?"
"She hurt me." Taehyung squeezed his hand into a fist. The words tumbled out of him. "She hurt me. Pictures. There are... pictures of me."
"Oh..." Yoongi said. His eyes turned sad. "I think I get it."
Jungkook got up. He had stayed quiet for the entire time. He went over to Taehyung, wrapping him in a big hug.
Taehyung flinched, cowering into himself. He couldn't tell the difference between Jungkook's arms and her arms. They were one and the same.
Taehyung screamed. Jungkook let go of him, eyes wide with shock. Loud gasps came from Taehyung, not faltering. His mind tried to keep up with his train of thought. He was safe here. The members wouldn't hurt him. Could he trust them though? Had they looked at the pictures and laughed at him? Had they-
"Taehyung." Jin was holding his hand. "We won't hurt you."
Taehyung didn't say anything. He stared at Jin's calm eyes. He gripped Jin's hand tighter than he thought was possible. The eldest didn't complain.
"He needs time off, we need to get whoever that did that arrested, we need to get whatever images and whatever all erased from existence, we need..."
"Yeah, I get that," Namjoon said quietly to Yoongi's rambling.
Jungkook stood softly off to the side, staring at Taehyung's shaking frame. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that was going-"
"It's fine, it's fine," Jin said. "Taehyung? It's okay, right? You can forgive Jungkook, right?"
Taehyung nodded again. He gave Jungkook a small smile. "It's okay Kook."
Jungkook smiled too.
She was in custody now. Taehyung had been clean for five days now. One month later, he was starting to become a bit more like himself.
There still were things that needed to be sorted out. But Taehyung was getting better. That's what mattered.
I had a weird dream, and now I have a question; has anyone here recently had a dream where you made a pact with 3 other kids to remember what happened to them and they assigned symbols to themselves and one was four yellow/gold cross/+ symbols? I had a dream like this last night, my symbol was four yellow plus signs. I think the other three were a purple butterfly-ish symbol, a red or orange fist, and something green, I can't remember exactly. We all had some kind of repetitive nightmare. Apparently for the butterfly kid, they relived the death of their sibling (I think a sister) over and over. I think the green kid said they got lost and were stuck in a changing forest. The fist girl said she had to run down a corridor over and over. I don’t remember her saying why. She’s the only one I remember the gender of. I don’t know the reason behind the symbols, I just know this was how we were going to identify each other, since our appearances were different in the dream. Green kid had short blonde hair, a round face, and no eyes. Butterfly kid had a longer face, like, longer than humanly should be possible, but only by a little. They also had long, white hair, and the butterfly kid was crying, like, a lot. Fist kid had shorter fluffy hair and it was gray. She had a bow I think. I had short emo-boy hair that was slightly a darker brown than normal. Also my eyes glowed green for some reason. We all mentioned that we looked different in real life.
For my repetitive nightmare, at first I woke up in my room, didn’t realize it was a dream yet. Looked and felt normal, my room and my body looked real. Only thing out of the ordinary so far was faint music and a weird light in my room that was a bit too Orange. I walked into the kitchen and my mom was talking with my dad happily, except it wasn’t my dad, it was some short-haired blonde guy I’d never seen before. My mom also looked a bit different but I couldn’t place why. As we ate breakfast my mom didn't introduce me, as if I was supposed to already know. I realized it was a dream and I tried doing my “close your eyes count to ten and open your eyes again” trick I used to do as a kid to get out of nightmares. Usually this was at the cost of waking up at 3am and not being able to sleep again, but I was getting weird vibes from the guy, and didn’t wanna know what happened next. I was just gonna deal with not sleeping. And I did the trick, but when I opened my eyes and found myself in bed in my room, something was off. It was still wrong, I don’t know why. It was still weirdly Orange (though a bit less now) and morning. I got up and found myself in more or less the same scene. It fucking freaked me out, and then the guy asked to talk to me in the other room. I tried letting my mom know through my facial expression that I was getting a bad vibe and didn’t want to, but she seemed oblivious and the dude led me into a room. This is the NSFW/darker part.
He raped me, violently. I tried to be quiet as I tried fighting back, I guess because I thought he’d get more pleasure from it if I made noise, and I didn’t want that? But it didn’t work. I kept doing the closing eyes trick but it would only set me back by a couple seconds. Eventually he let me go and I managed to do the eye trick and wake up in my bed. This time, it seemed real. Everything was normal, everything in place, but I didn’t trust it. I read somewhere that you can tell if it’s a dream by looking down at your hands and putting them together. For some reason your dream brain can’t comprehend you touching another part of yourself, so it makes you go through yourself like a hologram. I did the thing and although I felt my hands touching, it looked like they phased through each other. So I tried to get up and then felt a sharp stabbing pain near my gut, which is weird cause usually I can’t feel pain in dreams. I took off my covers and saw I was bleeding from my stomach, there was a huge clean hole straight through and I was spouting everywhere, except it only landed on my body and clothes, not on the sheets or bed. I did the eye trick three times, and it worked on the third. Suddenly I was shorter, had braces again, and seemed to be back in middle school. My room was Orange with white polka dots and a bunch of green palm leaves covered everything. I cautiously walked out of my room, again, and saw my mom and the guy. The guy was in my dad’s clothes, and my mom was suddenly deathly skinny. They spoke to me in a different language, I don’t know if it was gibberish or an actual language, and I couldn’t respond to or understand them. I closed my eyes and counted to 15 this time, and woke up in my bed, everything dim and blue tinted and the windows glowing with pure white light.
This is when I realized I suddenly looked different. I walked outside after exploring my weird house and saw my neighborhood was combined with a fantasy castle place? And we were inside a blue/purple cave/dome thing, except it was made of gas? I couldn’t find where the white light form earlier was, which was weird but I knew it was a dream, so I didn’t expect it to make sense. After walking around and only meeting a couple people with blurs for faces that couldn’t or wouldn't talk to me, I found a rickety old wooden bridge and crossed it. It was really long, and over an endless abyss but with a wired white orb that glowed Orange slightly. My head hurt a little when I got towards the middle of the bridge, where the orb was underneath it, and it stopped hurting as I crossed. I ended up on a small floating island with one tree in it, and saw three other bridges. The fist kid was already crossed and sitting under the tree, the green kid was on their way, and the butterfly kid had just arrived. At that point we talked about what we had to go through in the dreams before this one, the repetitive bullshit we had to deal with, and we made a pact to try and find each other, because clearly this weird dream had to mean something, since for all of us it was WAY too sharp and real to be normal. Then my alarm woke me up before we could exchange names, but not before we had done the symbols thing.
I did the eye trick and touched my hands like, 10 times before I could accept I was finally awake, I’m still fucked about it. I thought maybe if it was actually a shared dream someone I knew would be one of the kids, however none of my friends had the dream. All of the kids spoke english, however some had accents, and I think the butterfly one may have been irish, though I may be wrong. All of them sounded about highschool age, maybe a little younger, except fist girl who was definitely, like, 8 or something. I remember she was really calm about everything. I was really agitated at the time because of how shaken I was. The green kid was shaken too but more in a scared way than an agitated way, and the butterfly kid was just crying. I'm really shaken about this, and I feel like if I can’t remember this and find these kids something bad will happen, I can’t explain it.
If you had this dream, or know someone who had this dream, or really just have any opinions about it in general, please let me know. I'm really confused and nervous about this all, and would love any kind of answers.
submitted by /u/GreenAceHoodie
from Dream https://ift.tt/34dl91a
from a very young age i was obsessed with sex. i was like this years before i could even get hard. i have some additional theories that won’t be mentioned here as to why this might be, all based on the same foggy timeline, but i’m not comfortable sharing them. either way, i was fascinated by the act, but in a completely non-sexual way. in some ways, i still am, and in the same fashion. i probably have an average sex drive, but i still find myself thinking about sex pretty frequently without a bit of arousal. it’s like there’s sex the act, and then sex in the abstract, and i find the latter so much more interesting.
the first time i saw two people fucking was in the fly, during that scene where geena davis is riding jeff goldblum’s dick, or pretending to ride it, i’m not sure. i asked my older brother what they were doing and he said “they’re having sex”, and i didn’t ask any more questions. television softcore was my only experience for the longest time, and it mostly made me uncomfortable. i watched a james bond film in a hotel room with my older brother and older cousin some time after that, and it was my first experience with locker room talk. i had never heard people who weren’t adults use so many curse words and talk about the things that they talked about that night as i sat there mostly silent. james bond began to make love to whatever bond girl was in that movie and the 13 year old child my uncle had raised said “i don’t know why they edit out all the good parts on tv when they know we just want to see some titties.” i inferred what titties were.
the first time i saw a woman naked was when my divorced dad was cleaning out his apartment, getting ready to move into a house in the suburbs. he was cleaning out under the sink, and pulled out a solved puzzle board featuring a brunette woman with nothing covering her skin but a long illustrious fur coat and a very full 70s bush. the juxtaposition of these two features was what got me. dad threw it in the trash can outside, but i kept sneaking out into the light drizzle, opening the lid slightly, and taking another peek at this woman. suddenly it seemed to me like i had uncovered some animalistic facet of human nature that i had no clue of before. i couldn’t stop looking and i didn’t know why.
from there, i began to seek out every piece of analog pornography i could get my small hands on. i’d sneak into my mom and stepdad’s room when they were gone and go through his playboys he had in the closet, and their mail order catalogs full of lingerie and sex toys and graphic demonstrations. i would rent friday the 13th films on vhs and study the sex scenes that were still softcore but definitely harder than anything on television. when i was at my dad’s house, my brother would often be at his girlfriend’s house, and i would stay down in his room playing on that beige desktop computer he had sitting on the floor.
i would tiptoe around used condoms he left laying on the floor and open the drawers in his room to find his porno mags. one time, i saw a photoshopped picture of eminem in one of the magazines, sitting with his legs slightly splayed and a sad, 4 inch erect penis sticking out of him. the caption read “no wonder he’s so angry!”. as far as i was concerned, the editor of this magazine had actually convinced eminem to ignore any probable insecurities, remove his pants, and show his tiny little cock off to god and everyone. i didn’t want to listen to eminem as much anymore after this.
the first time i saw internet porn was at a friend’s house, maybe around 2006. we had been playing pokémon, and he got up and turned on the family desktop and motioned for me to come over. he went on a website called google.com and pulled up a picture of a fit man with an enormous 8 or 9 inch dick having sex with a waifish looking woman. i didn’t understand why my prepubescent dick was so tiny in comparison to this man. i’m not sure if this still bothers me or not. i found out later that, despite him clearing his browser history, his father eventually discovered this habit. his father was a balding lutheran pastor, so i wondered what the conversation must have been like.
the first time i had a girlfriend was when i was 13. i was at a middle school dance and her friends came to me and told me that she wanted me to be her boyfriend. i had never even seen or heard of this girl before. nonetheless, i went along with it because it seemed like what i should be doing. plus, i didn’t want people to think i was gay. we all got off for christmas break the next week and i managed to call her one time for about 5 minutes. i didn’t want my parents to know i had a girlfriend because it seemed dirty and embarrassing to me, so i went out into the backyard with the cordless phone in 35 degrees fahrenheit. after that, i forgot that i technically had a girlfriend, and spent the rest of my break on youtube. she broke up with me on myspace a couple weeks of silence later and on the charge of emotional neglect, in spite of my last minute appeals that i could do better. later that night, i cried for some reason.
the first time i actually fucked someone was in college, like most autistic males who do eventually manage to have sex. if you miss that window it’s a no-go usually. i don’t like talking about real exploits in too much detail because it feels like weird macho bullshit. i do wish there was a way i could talk about sex more without having to actually talk about specific people and what we’ve done, though. it was with a friend of my roommate’s. she was sort of cute, but i thought she was sort of off-putting too. she was like a “where’s my hug” type of guy, but was a girl. in general, you can get away with that kind of thing much easier when you’re a girl, but not with me. i’m a genuine touch-me-not. i don’t like to hug anyone i’m not in love with.
i’m not sure if i even wanted to have sex with this girl, but i went along with it because it seemed like what i should be doing. so we did. it felt good to finally get it over with. afterwards, i heard through the grapevine that she said something to the effect of “all joes are hot”, referring to my deadname, and presumably every other joe she had ever met. i had just watched goodfellas for the first time a month before having sex for the first time, and these two memories mixed poorly. from then on, whenever i thought back to losing my virginity, i would vividly imagine myself fucking her in her dorm room again, except i was 6 inches shorter, had a suit on, my black dress pants were laying on the floor around my ankles, and i looked and sounded exactly like joe pesci. i imagined i was joe pesci.
a/n: heyhey, so it’s apparently albether week (but idk if it’s true) and it’s @danibby ’s birthday so why not kill two birds with one stone by writing an albether fic hehe :)
word count: 1.4k
aether grumbled in frustration, kicking the rocks underneath him. paimon had left him to go get food elsewhere, leaving him alone with his thoughts. he had just finished a domain when paimon bolted away. he was tired, he was sore, and he just wanted to see his boyfriend and relax with him.
but that opened another thought. would albedo relax with him? cuddle with him? sure, they were boyfriends but they had never gone beyond long hugs and handholding. aether wanted to be.. coupley, more intimate, but he wasn’t sure he was ready for... that yet.
he pondered for a while before an idea arose in his head, the best way to get intimate but not too intimate. all his previous exhaustion dissipated in a moment as he grew excited to try it out on albedo, already making his way towards dragonspine. it was late so he should be finishing up his work soon.
after what seemed like ages to aether, he finally could see albedo’s camp and his step became just a little bit bouncier and a little bit quicker. he caught sight of his boyfriend who was organizing some files, smiling fondly at his concentrated stare.
“hi, albedo.” aether greeted, quietly as to not disturb or cause albedo to lose focus. he gave a gentle and small wave, watching as the alchemist turned his head.
“aether...” albedo whispered, letting a warm smile fall onto his face as aether walks over to him. “what brings you here, my love?”
aether blushed a little at the nickname. albedo has begun using it a while ago, since they began dating, but it never calmed down the warmth in aether’s chest whenever he was called that. nonetheless, he couldn’t dwell on it and shook his head. he has a mission.
“i just wanted to see you. i missed you.” aether replied, as albedo stood up. aether was slightly shorter than the alchemist, so he had to turn his gaze upwards to look him in the eyes.
aether held his arms out, hinting that he wanted a hug. albedo understood immediately, not noticing the mischievious grin on aether’s face as he was about to implement his master plan.
they finally made contact and aether stopped for a moment. what would happen if it backfired? what if albedo wasn’t ticklish? that would be really embarrassing... but he pushed those thoughts away, deciding there was no better way to find out than trying it out himself. so he curled his fingers around albedo’s ribs, since that’s where his fingers were closest to.
he heard a light gasp and a failed supressed giggle, and aether felt a burst of confidence, grinning excitedly. it had worked! albedo was ticklish! the monotone seemingly emotionless alchemist was... ticklish! aether started giving out more vicious attacks on his ribs, relishing in albedo’s poor attempt to contain his giggles.
“a-aether! whahahat ahahare you d-doing?!” he manages to cough out and aether hummed, happily.
“i want us to get closer! we’ve been a couple for a few months but haven’t done anything intimate at all! so, come on, albedo, laugh!” aether explains, somewhat hastily. albedo’s eyes widen before he stops supressing his giggles, letting airy and carefree laughter escape his lips.
while aether was poking and prodding at his ribs, he decided to start lightly squeezing at his ride rib and his tummy. if albedo was loud before, he was way louder now as he cackled.
“a-aehehehether! ah-aHAHAHahAHA!” he howled and aether chuckled along with him, though for different reasons. aether enjoyed this, and he hoped his boyfriend did too, seeing as he wasn’t exactly resisting.
“you’re a lot more ticklish than i thought. it’s pretty shocking~” aether noted, aloud, not missing albedo’s blushing face both from the tickling and at what aether just said. hm, it’s nice to learn albedo became flustered at teases.
“AHAHAHA AEHEHEHETHER!” albedo gasped, unable to stop the panicked cackles and laughter. his squirming increased, but the alchemist tried to limit it so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt aether.
aether kept going at those two spots. they already had large reactions, so he was sure they had to be some of his worsts. so he kept his focus, barely adjusting his fingers. until a soft hiccup left albedo’s lips and aether almost stopped, surprised. aether’s face grew red and all he could think about was how cute that was.
however, that was a mistake because as he was distracted, albedo used it to his advantage to turn him and cause him to fall back onto the chair albedo was sitting on earlier.
“ah! albedo? what are you doiNG?!” he started before he felt a tight poke at his sides and he yelps.
“what? did you think you could get away with ticking me?” albedo asked, grinning slightly and aether felt a flash of fear course through his body at the mischivious and evil glint in the alchemist’s eye.
“nohohoho!” aether cried, trying to escape but found that he was too weak to. he wrapped his hands around albedo’s wrists, but it didn’t stop the ticklish onslaught.
“you said this was to get closer, no? then, shouldn’t you get a turn, as well?” albedo let a small smirk slip onto his face.
“w-wahahait! i wahahas j-just gonnahaha tickle you!” aether sputtered, giggles pouring from his lips. he twisted, trying to stand from the chair but albedo caved around him, leaving no room to escape.
albedo, who was still squeezing at his sides, starts gliding his fingers up to aether’s tummy. aether’s eyes widen, throwing his head back. he tried to pry the alchemist’s hands off his sensitive torso but before he could, albedo had begun raking his fingers in random patterns all around his stomach.
aether screamed. loudly. god, why did he have to be so ticklish? albedo flinched at aether’s reaction, nearly stopping his attack.
“what a reaction. it is interesting how sensitive you are.” he observes, both in a teasing but curious manner. aether blushed, his face feeling even hotter than it already was.
“I a-aM NOT SEHEHENSITIVE!” aether defends himself despite knowing very well that he was definitely contradicting himself.
“oh? is that so? can you prove it?” albedo finally let a full smirk show on his face. he began teasingly circling aether’s navel, slowly. he watched as aether’s loud laughter became frantic giggles, anticipating what was going to come next.
“a-albEDOHOhoho!” aether ignored albedo’s mocking words, only able to focus on the finger dangerously close to his bellybutton. he could tell that he was going to be tickled there soon. he was both excited and terrified. how would he be able to handle it?
after a few moments, though, albedo kept repeating the same movement, lightly dragging his fingertips. he chuckled inwardly at aether’s embarrassment and confusion. he was waiting for aether to let his guard down and attack when least expected.
and after a bit, he did. while aether still giggled a lot, the frantic tone calmed down. albedo mad a hmph sound, before digging in.
the alchemist pressed his finger inside aether’s navel, scratching the inside of it at a terrifyingly fast rate. aether’s back arched and he bucked his hips, not expecting the sudden movement. he flailed around trying to find an exit to the ticklish sensation.
“WAHAHA A-ALBEHEHEDO! W-WAHAHAIT!” aether struggled with his words. he was unable to think and at this point, he was only acting on reflexes. he was deathly ticklish in his navel and even after just a few seconds, he wasn’t sure how long he could take.
“STAHAHAP!” he shrieked out, and luckily, albedo did. he leaned on the table beside them, leaving aether a panting mess in the chair.
“are you okay?” albedo asked, genuinely. he was sure aether was, but he wanted to make sure. he smiled at aether’s small nod. “and do you feel closer to me? that was your original goal, correct?”
“i do.” aether nodded again, still trying to regain his breath. the two watched each other in silence before the alchemist broke it.
“you look very happy like this. i think i’ll sketch it.” albedo said to himself, already pulling out his sketchbook. he ignored his boyfriend’s returning reddening face, even though he had just gotten it to go away.
“w-what?!” aether stuttered, before sighing when he realized how determined albedo was to do this.
aether really did feel closer to the alchemist after the tickle session, though. maybe they would get closer over time and perform more intimate activities, but for now, he was satisfied. aether was happy. he was really happy.
hello, friends! Ever since "La Vita Dolce," I've wanted to write something else involving Italy and at least one Italian phrase, and so this lil story was born! Hope you all enjoy!
Ship: Tom Holland x Reader
Word Count: 1488
Warnings: mentions of drinking, vv slight language
You had been walking around Rome for what felt like an eternity.
(It had only been like 30 minutes)
You knew the bar was right near Piazza Navona, but you'd only been to that part of the city one other time, having been staying south on the other side of the river in Trastevere.
You felt embarrassed knowing you were dragging your friends around the city without much of a guide, but you were too stubborn to admit that you were actually lost.
"Maybe we should've gone to Bar San Calisto again. It was cheap and close but noooo. I just had to look up a 'best bars in Rome' list" you thought as you continued to trudge on.
Not only were you lost, but you also didn't have the ability to look up where you were going, since you'd decided to go cheap and not buy an international plan or a vpn, choosing to only using wifi so you'd "stay in the moment."
That moment seemed stupid now that every marble wall and cobblestone street started to meld together in your brain as it continued to darken.
A trip to Rome was something you'd been wanting to do for years, so when your university offered up the chance to go study abroad for 4 weeks, you immediately began scrounging up the funds to go, even scoring a scholarship based on the fact that you'd taken Italian classes in school.
You'd only been there a week but thankfully had bonded with your roommate before even going, having struck up a conversation at the informational meeting the semester before. Since then, you had also bonded with those in the room next door, them sticking to you as their translator.
Finally, you couldn't take it anymore, stopping.
"Okay, look, guys. I'm really sorry but I literally have no idea where we are," you admitted, feeling guilty. Everyone else smiled.
"That's okay! This place is beautiful! I'm sure we'll find it eventually," your roommate, Olivia, said.
"Yeah. Didn't you say it was at Piazza Navona?" Aaron, one of your neighbors, asked. You nodded. "Well as long as we can find that, then we're basically there!"
After some wandering, your group found itself in the square in front of the Pantheon, which was a step in the right direction, but you were determined to actually find the right place.
There was a hotel right there, so you quickly stepped in to ask the desk worker to point you towards the Piazza, who explained that it was only a couple streets East of where you were.
Relieved, you and your friends quickly walked that way, breathing out a collective sigh when you walked into the giant open square, looking around at the familiar structures from the second day of class when you'd toured the area.
"Sooo... where's this bar?" Aaron's roommate Joseph asked.
You all circled the square from the inside and out a couple times, not seeing any signs with the name "Bar del Fico Roma" anywhere.
Dread started to wash over you as you realized the website must not have meant the bar was actually on the square, but was somewhere nearby. You felt stupid for not screenshotting the website page or, you know, actually looking it up first.
"Fine, that's it! I'm marching up to the next person I see and asking where this darn place is. We've made it this far!" you said, exasperated.
The first thing that caught your eye was a group of people who looked close to your age, talking in a small group. They were pretty well dressed, typical of a young Italian, so you immediately started over towards them, expecting them to be the most helpful in giving directions.
"Wait, y/n!" Olivia protested, but you ignored her, walking between a shorter boy and taller girl.
You couldn't help but sigh out the words as you started speaking, placing a light hand on the boy's arm.
“Scusa, potresti dirme dov’è la-"
"Excuse me, could you tell me where the-"
"Sorry! I don't speak Italian!" the boy answered in a British accent, turning to face you with hands in surrender.
You both seemed taken aback when your eyes met.
"Um, oh what was the word for sorry in Italian again?" the actor in front of you asked, looking to one of his many Spider-man costars around you. Before one could answer, you blurted out one for him.
"It's 'mi dispiace' or 'perdonami,' depending on how you want to say it," you started, realizing how stupid you probably sounded to be teaching a world famous actor Italian words after accidentally infiltrating his conversation.
However, Tom was more shocked by your American accent. Your eyes still widened as you realized what was actually going on.
"Oh my gosh, what am I saying, um. I- I'm so sorry. We're just trying to find this bar and got lost and-"
"Which bar?" he asked in return. You furrowed your brows and looked at him funny, wondering why he would care. He seemed to take notice. "It's just that, we're also headed to a bar and can't seem to find it, either."
You chuckled at the situation, baffled.
"Well, um, it's called 'Bar del Fico Roma.'"
Tom's eyes widened.
"Hey, that's where we're headed!" Jacob Batalon cut in, making you look at him and the rest of the actors in surprise. You could see your own friends shock from your peripheral.
"No way! Really?" Joseph said for you. The group nodded.
"I just got it pulled up on maps," Zendaya said, holding up her phone. Realization suddenly hit that she of all people was the one who you had been standing next to this whole time.
You and your friends all gasped incredulously, amazed at your luck after spending all that time lost.
"If you want, we can show you the way," Tom offered.
"What? No, no we couldn't impose like that," you began, knowing your friends were probably internally screaming at you.
"Oh come on," Tom responded. "We're all going to the same place anyways, not like we won't see you there. It's barely a five minute's walk."
"Seriously, y/n. Do you really want to go around asking more locals for help when we've got it right here?" Olivia asked, raising a good point.
"Alright, fine," you started, rolling your eyes. You turned back to Tom. "You know what they say, 'when in Rome.' Seriously, thank you. All of you. You're definitely saving our asses."
He chuckled as Zendaya began leading the way. Though the sun had set, lights throughout the roads and emanating from various shops lit the way.
Without meaning to, you fell into step with Tom, easily matching his gait as you crossed through the bustling piazza.
"So what brings you to Italy?" He asked. "You don't quite sound like a local."
"We're studying abroad through our university. Unfortunately for me, these goons keep following me 'cause I speak the language," you joked, causing Olivia to slap the back of her hand to your shoulder.
"Ah, I see. I was definitely confused when you went from Italian to American in an instant. Y/n, was it?"
"Yes! Yeah, that's me. And you're obviously Tom Holland."
"You better remember that later, he tends to forget his own name after a few drinks," Zendaya called back to you, causing the group to laugh.
"Hey! That was one time!" Tom defended himself. "Not my fault I was going through a breakup!"
He turned back to you.
"Don't listen to them. I'm quite fun to drink with. You should see for yourself."
"Is that some sort of offer..?" you questioned playfully, tucking your hair behind your ear.
"If everyone's alright with it, I figured you all would join us at the lounge. I'm more than happy to pay for a round or two," he winked.
The group was approaching the bar, and any anxiety you'd had about finding it finally quelled when you could see people outside laughing and drinking as they enjoyed the summer night.
"Hmm... I don't know..." you sing-songed, looking up at the sky.
"Dude are you crazy?" Aaron exclaimed, causing the others to argue in agreement with him.
"Okay, okay. Of course we would be happy to join you for a drink. Thank you."
Both groups cheered in approval.
"The only thing I ask in return is a little lesson in Italian and, if all goes well, a pretty lady's number at the end of the night," he said smoothly, giving you a look.
The others looked between you with wide eyes, surprised at his open flirting. You couldn't help but smile and blush before replying.
"I think that's something I can manage. Now come on, your first lesson will be in ordering drinks," you said, grabbing his hand to lead him in what was about to be the best night of his life.
A/N: Okay fun fact I thought up this concept immediately after publishing La Vita Dolce and just... never wrote it? The entire work was actually written around the one Italian phrase I used haha.
Anyways... Hope you all enjoyed as per usual and feel free to hmu anytime about anything :)
Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!
angels like you can’t fly down here with me (i'm everything they said i would be) ; megumi fushiguro.
pairing; megumi fushiguro x f!reader
synopsis; people like him don't get happy endings, but megumi fushiguro considers himself the rare exception - after all, he has you.
content contains; yakuza!au, attempted sexual assault, small instances of victim blaming, childhood friends to lovers, breeding kink, praise kink, daddy kink, fluff, the two of you are oblivious to each other’s feelings
author’s notes; the first fic for my milestone event! remember when i said they were gonna be 1k-2k words and... here we are!!! a little rushed but i never said they were gonna be good fics teehee
Don’t do it.
He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)
He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.
(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.
And he does.
Every. Single. Time.)
For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.
(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.
After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)
The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.
As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.
Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.
Don’t do it.
He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes.
The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.
It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.
“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.
School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They’re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.
The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.
For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.
And they’re not wrong, anyway.
(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)
Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.
Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.
(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)
No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.
And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.
“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.
(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)
“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.
He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.
He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.
“Leave him alone.”
Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.
Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.
He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.
You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.
All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.
“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”
The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.
“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.
“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.
Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.
But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.
“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”
“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”
“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [L/N] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”
The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.
After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.
You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.
“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”
It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.
Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.
“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.
“We’re not friends.”
“Too late. I told my dad we were.”
There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.
You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.
“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.
“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?
“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Y/N]’s!” or “[Y/N], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like you have any friends.”
“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.
(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”
Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)
People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.
(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)
But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.
The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.
You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.
“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.
“What’s this for?”
“For you to eat, silly.”
“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.
“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”
“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.
Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)
“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”
He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.
“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”
Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.
Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.
“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”
“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”
“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.
No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.
“And yet, you’re still always here.”
You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.
(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.
Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.
Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.
“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”
You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.
You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.
“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.
If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.
Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)
You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.
(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.
“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.
“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.
“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”
“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?
“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”
“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”
The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.
“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.
“Are you sure about that?”
You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.
“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.
You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.
For your words to be true.)
You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.
So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.
He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.
(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”
“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.
“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Y/N].”)
It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.
Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.
Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.
It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.
Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.
Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.
“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.
You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.
“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.
“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.
It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.
“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”
“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.
“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.
(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)
There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.
You like Megumi.
Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.
And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.
It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.
It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.
Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.
He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?
Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.
Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.
Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.
You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.
gumi <3: where are you?
gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home.
gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [y/n]. let’s leave now
Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.
You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so why you suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.
Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.
He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.
Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…
Do you hate him now?
It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.
He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.
If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.
You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.
He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.
“Ow, man, what the fuc—”
“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.
“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows of him. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”
Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.
He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.
He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.
It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.
The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.
The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.
His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.
Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away.
He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.
It’s a phone ringing.
He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”
Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.
The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.
“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”
He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.
“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.
The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.
It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.
The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.
“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.
Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirely different.
The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and again and again.
Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.
“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.
As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now?
You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”
“Shh, it’s okay, [Y/N].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.
The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.
The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.
It’s only a matter of time.
You’re too good to be true.
You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.
“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.
You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.
“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.
Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.
“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.
“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.
You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.
“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.
“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.
“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that? I could fuck you forever.”
His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.
“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.
There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.
“Daddy, daddy, daddy.”
Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.
He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.
“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”
“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.
“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.
“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”
He’s silent for a minute.
“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.
You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”
Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.
Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.
Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.
He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.
And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.
Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.
Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?
It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.
He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.
Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.
Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.
“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”
“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”
“So then why do you have to go look for it?”
“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”
At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.
From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.
Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.
Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—
—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.
In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.
As we take our next step in the season and come off some very exciting results put together both individually, by relays, and by the TEAM, I wanted to highlight some of the process stories that we saw throughout the season. The results are exciting, but it’s the process that led them to it that means the most.
In the meeting yesterday I started off by stated that I really hope that each of you are as proud of yourselves as I am in what you’ve done over the past year. In a challenging year like no other, you all stayed voluntarily committed to something more than most ever experience in their lives and I hope in that process learned just what you can do even in the toughest of times.
Along those lines, there are always process stories that I like to share to both recognize those that not only met the high level of the expectations of this group but found ways to push themselves to new levels within their own process. Many of which led to amazing results, but some of which are still setting the stage for those big swims.
The point of these stories isn’t just to highlight those swimmers, but it’s actually more to share the stories of the steps taken that are earning the results that are also coming through. I implore you all to read them to learn the pieces that are working to help move them forward as swimmers and then see what you can do to take advantage of that type of opportunity. If you can learn from your own experiences and the journeys of others, then you can fast forward your process. We have a lot to talk about this time around, so here I go.
Process stories –
Rex Maurer – With the top performances in the group including a Trials cut, an SCS record (ind), and being a huge anchor on 3 National Age Group relay records, I think it too often gets lost on what it takes to reach those levels. Rex had a huge seasons of drops, but they all came because of the consistent quality work he put in from the start and how he has bought into the Rose Bowl TEAM right away as well. It’s not always easy to slide into our expectations, but Rex not only did that, he continuously pushed himself to new levels in workouts. It’s not a question at all as to where the drops and huge swims came from, the only question now is if he can continue to work his process the way he has and continue to chase that next level on a daily basis. Incredible work Rex, just keep up that chase.
Alex Syrkin – What a journey this was for Alex and it was so fun to see all the hard work (by efforts and by focus on making and keeping changes) pay off. TEAM records and Summer Juniors cuts were the fun reward, but really the way she learned to work her process and to do it with a smile and her own sense of humor in the face of challenges is what she’ll take with her forever. Keep it up Alex.
Max Cahill – Or otherwise known as Mr. Consistency in my mind because of the constant push he has been willing to make year after year in the water. Max has been willing to chase anyone and everyone that was in front of him, and all of the sudden this year he’s found himself skipping levels, landing himself at Winter Juniors cuts, and ready to knock of the door of Summer Juniors. You can definitely look at the past year for what he’s done well to earn those results, but even that wouldn’t be enough. This has been the building of things over years, and his willingness to consistently chase the levels he wanted to achieve. And now he’s chasing levels he didn’t know if he would ever really be considering. Efforts, focus, and time… consistently.
Dora Chang – Then there are some stories where the results are yet to come…. but will if the process continues. Dora has used this past year to turn a huge corner in workouts. Her consistent efforts and willingness to push herself is far and above better than she’s ever done before in workouts. It’s been fun to see her focus improve over a senior year (that’s nearly unheard of, to make huge improvements in focus when most are starting to experience “senioritis” and the best of them remain as focused as they have been) and I can’t wait to see the results come from it. More than anything though, I hope she believes in herself by what she does on a daily basis over any result anyway.
Chris O’Grady – Another senior that has continued to improve his process. For Chris he had started this before and has just continued to push himself to new levels and seeing the time drops because of that consistency over anything else. Still learning so much from the sport, it’s going to be fun to watch Chris continue his journey if he can keep this type of chase up. Still a lot more to come.
Taylor Carey – Pushing through a bit of an injury, Taylor has really started to pick up right where her stroke needed to go (yes, not even where left off, but where it needed to go, which is impressive). Her times were a bit mixed over the past couple weeks, but that said, I’d also say she was able to post a lifetime best in the very event I would say is her best time at this point. That was a phenomenal race. The others will need some time to either be able to hold the strokes for 200’s or learn how to speed the stroke up for yards 100, but Taylor seemed to understand and was ready to take it into the next race. Efforts and focus have been there, it appears we just need a bit more time. Keep it up Taylor.
Kevin Liu and Nathan Kim – starting to group some up here, but these two found a drive together this season that has carried both of them to new heights. One of the biggest pieces I think was the willingness to push each other in workouts on a daily basis. To compete. It’s what this comes down to in the end, and if we aren’t willing to stand and compete in practices, we won’t be ready to stand and compete in meets. Both of these swimmers found that competition, and better than that, they have both found a new level of consistency in efforts now and a push through those tough sets that will continue to pay dividends if they can keep pushing through.
Chloe Addiego – Another one where the process on a daily basis has been raised to new heights without a question, but we just haven’t quite put together the racing that is possible from that training. While there are always more steps to take, Chloe has really taken this past year to challenge herself in what she sees as her weaknesses and what is holding her back, and that is clear to see in workouts. The test now is only to be able to continue the journey, and learn from the racing situations on what can be improved and be even more ready to go next time you are on the blocks.
Zach Larrick – “Race like I train” was the theme of the season. Sometimes it’s not a question if you are physically a better swimmer than you were in the past, but it’s the mind that needs to be convinced just how good you can be. We train like we do so that you are ready to race. You are ready to start the race at the pace you want to hit your goal times, and then be in a position to fight for that on the end. You give yourself the opportunities in races by getting it done in workouts. Zach just needed to take that workout attack into his races and just do his thing. So far so good, as Zach definitely raced like he’s trained and the times showed both individually and on the relays. Keep it up and great work.
Emily Xu – After putting herself in a bit of a hole towards the end of 2020, Emily has come into 2021 a new swimmer. Driven to compete in workouts, even when she was just first back and struggling in workouts. She had come back with a new drive, even more than we had seen at times in the past, and worked herself back to some great races, including a huge anchor for the TEAM on the end of the mixed relay. She split a second faster than her lifetime best time to sneak under the record by .06. Keep up that drive and know what you are capable of when you challenge yourself for more.
Ryan Zerpa – Another newer one to the group that just continued to work to find the groove of the group. Knowing from the start that it was going to be a challenge, Ryan accepted it and was willing to talk to me along the way to understand a bit more of what he needed to do or maybe what he needed to stop doing as the case may be. It was a trust in something new when everything you are doing seems like a challenge is impressive, but then to see him decide (sure, maybe it was the last day of the meet) to just forget it and let himself just go and to see the races flow so much better was a lot of fun to watch. At some point we need to operate outside of the mind to find the best flow to our strokes.
Hojung Yoon – Consistent through the last year, Hojung has seemed to find a new drive to chase new levels following our mid-season meeting a few months back. With the focus and efforts levels definitely at a new high, time will provide some great opportunities if she can keep this up.
Ronald Dalmacio – In an interesting place as one of our top swimmers in the group and nearly missing Trials, but clearly still a better swimmer on a daily basis than what his races have shown thus far. Ask any coach on deck that has seen him swim for a while, and they’ll tell you his training is just simply at a new level. The test of time has been thrown at Ronald, but he doesn’t seem phased one bit and is ready to move on to the next step. That’s working your process! And if we can keep him from falling on blocks we’ll be all good. 😉
Jacob Gragas – It’s a shorter window that I’m focused on here, but I just want to highlight the push Jacob has clearly made since our meeting. We threw him a challenge to finish with everything he had, and he accepted with huge enthusiasm, challenging the top end of the group on day #1 and while consistently doing that isn’t done by flipping a switch, his consistent efforts paid off with just an amazing 200 Free at the Spring Cup (my favorite race of his for sure). I hope you understand what you are capable of when you put your mind to it.
Daniel Li, Ryan Makour, Pierce O’Grady – having just joined us, this is more about continuing the process, with consistency, that got you here in the first place and led to your phenomenal drops. You’ve been chasing this for a while, and that chase led to the drops. You need to continue that chase to the next level. Don’t allow yourselves to get complacent (defined as allowing yourself to be satisfied with the same work/focus as you’ve given in the past) .
Alright, I think that’s it for now. Again, I am proud of all of you. The above are just stories of the past year/season of swimmers that were able to up their process game and I think it’s important that I highlight that when I can. And please know that I understand the level of commitment that each and every one of my athletes make towards this group and TEAM. These athletes just happen to not only raise their process above the already high expectations of the group and for some maybe higher than the expectations they’ve set for themselves in past seasons (process can’t go backwards, even the hardest of workers can be complacent if they aren’t finding a way to be better), and this seemed a good time to share those process stories that had led to success (or is setting it up) as we head into the new season and new opportunities.
Great work by all, and now, as we discussed yesterday, it’s time to get back to work and raise some levels!
This first chapter is more of an intro, the real action starts next chapter so this one is pretty short, actually way shorter than my usual, but hopefully you still enjoy! It’s heavily based off the 2005 movie version, and the book too of course, but there’s just something about that movie. It’s adapted for the characters though!
It was a truth universally acknowledged, that Aelin Galathynius, the deserving yet overlooked heir to the Galathynius estate, was in trouble. Not that she would ever admit it herself, but when it was preached to her by everyone in her vicinity, she tended to agree.
She was of age, she was female, she had no prospects of her own, and she was unmarried. And with no close male relatives, once her parents died, if she had no husband, she would be left with nothing.
It was a bullshit law, a misogynistic one at best and a cruel, vile, act of hatred toward women at its worst. Aelin knew she should inherit the money, that the money belonged to her, but she wouldn’t and it didn’t, which meant she had to get married.
There had been multiple opportunities in the past for her to find a match, but her personality and her iciness toward all of them tended to drive them away, much to the chagrin of her loving parents. They weren’t trying to force her into a situation where she would suffer, but they were afraid she would if she didn’t secure herself a future. Even if Aelin was practically determined not to.
It was her goal to piss off as many “eligible” suitors that the whole of Erilea had to offer, and she was well on her way to succeeding.
Aelin sighed as she flipped the page of her book, sighing and chewing on her bottom lip mindlessly as she leaned her head on the wing of the chair, humming as she read. It was the perfect day for holing herself up in the library, ignoring her mother’s requests for her to go into town with her and Lysandra. After all, why go chase after men when there were so many good books to read?
She chuckled to herself, laughing at her own joke. It wasn’t like she wasn’t going to get married at some point, she knew she needed to, it was just that she hadn’t met anyone worth her time yet, and she wasn’t about to lose her independence to a man who didn’t even know his left from his right.
No, she’d wait. Make her arguments well and known, make sure her protests were acknowledged, and then maybe, maybe, settle down. Just not yet.
That was a topic highly up for debate between her and Lysandra.
Her family had taken in Lysandra about six years ago, after her own parents had died, so they were raised practically as sisters, and she was much more open to the topic of marriage, much more invested in finding herself a good match. Maybe the threat of being without a safety net weighed more heavily on her mind, while Aelin tended to believe that everything would turn out just fine.
Everything had so far so she had no reason to think that it would suddenly change.
Elide Lochan, her neighbor and another close friend who was practically a sibling, tended to be in the middle of the two. Her family wasn’t quite as wealthy, so she was more practical about her future, but she was also along the same line of thinking where she didn’t want to marry just for practicality’s sake. She was a hopeless romantic, and Aelin agreed that she deserved the best love she could find.
They all did, and she was determined that they all find it.
Maybe she should’ve gone into town with them, just to make sure Lysandra didn’t end up falling for someone who had but two pennies to his name. Or worse, someone with an ego ten times bigger and an intelligence ten times smaller than it ought to be.
Someone that Aelin would never let herself fall prey to.
She only had a moment of warning before the door was slamming open, the lovely and quiet voice of Lysandra filling the room.
“Aelin Galathynius! Why the hell are you hiding yourself away in here?” She exclaimed, prancing over and plopping herself in the armchair across from her, her dark red dress flowing gracefully around her. Aelin picked at the sleeve of her own light blue dress, the light frock sitting comfortably on her body. “You missed a wonderful trip into town.”
“Oh?” She raised her brows dismissively. “What could I have possibly missed in the wonderful town of Orynth?”
Lysandra stayed quiet, and Aelin looked up, brows furrowed as she met her friend’s sly grin.
“Perranth House has inally sold,” she said mischievously. Aelin snapped her book shut.
“What?” She asked with shock lining her voice. “Since when?”
That was news. Perranth House had been empty for years, the biggest house in the county left vacant without any person rich enough to buy it wanting to. The fact that it was occupied now could change everything. The Galathynius’ were wealthy for Orynth, but it wasn’t anything compared to what the owner of Perranth House would have to be.
“Since yesterday I’m pretty sure,” Lysandra answered, leaning on the arm of the chair. “And guess what?”
Aelin couldn’t help leaning forward, suddenly interested in the news. “What?”
“According to the woman we talked to in town, it’s a single man,” she raised a brow, “and he’s bringing his cousin, distant cousin I think, and a friend of his.”
“What’s his name?” Aelin asked, uninterested for herself but interested for Lysandra, and maybe Elide. She’d have to check out his personality first, but the money associated with him was definitely a point in his favor. If they couldn’t inherit money themselves, ridiculously, it was best to find it through a husband.
But the brunette girl furrowed her brows, as if thinking hard about the question. “You know, I don’t think I was paying attention by that point, we’ll have to ask Evalin.”
Aelin snorted, but stood up with her, dropping her book into her armchair.
“Does Elide know about this?” She asked Lysandra dragged her by the hand as she hurried out of the cozy library. They passed the dining room, with her piano on one side and the fine china laid out on the wooden table.
“I’m not sure, we’ll have to run over and ask her later,” she answered, pulling them both toward the front parlor, where she knew Aelin’s parents would be. “I know you have your whole thing with getting married, but -“ Lysandra turned to look at her, “this could be big, Aelin.” Her voice turned more sincere, a little more intense.
And her words were true. Lysandra hadn’t inherited much from her parents, who had been on the poorer side of town, and while Evalin and Rhoe had offered her the same dowry they were giving for Aelin, she was too proud to accept that much from them, settling for half of the amount instead. Aelin thought that was ridiculous, but her friend was firm in her beliefs.
She was beautiful enough to get a man without a large dowry though, so Aelin wasn’t too worried for her, but it was still frustrating. Maybe Lysandra was an Ennar and not a Galathynius, but she was part of their family and should be treated the same way.
As they reached the door to the parlor, Lysandra didn’t even bother knocking before shoving open the white door, pulling them both into the room. In contrast to the library, which was smaller and full of bookshelves that made the room warm and homey, the parlor was lighter, with pastel patterned wallpaper and a white couch that radiated the sunlight streaming in from the large windows. And like they predicted, Evalin and Rhoe Galathynius were sitting on the couch, Rhoe reading the paper and Evalin working on some needlepoint.
“Mama, is it true?” Aelin asked, raising her brows as her voice rose in excitement. She wouldn’t go after the man herself, but it was at least a little deviation from the normal and boring life she usually lived. Evalin lifted her gaze, a soft yet teasing smile on her face, one Aelin saw on her own face quite a bit.
“You would know if you’d come with us, wouldn’t you?” She said with a hint of snark, and Aelin almost rolled her eyes jokingly in response. She had a good relationship with both of her parents, but especially her mother. It was a joke among them that Aelin was just a copy of her with an extra addition of sass. And while Evalin was nudging her to get married, she didn’t let that get in the way of their family.
“Very funny,” Aelin replied, and Lysandra snorted. “I am so sorry I didn’t deign to accept your invitation, I promise to next time with as much grace as possible.”
Rhoe chuckled from where he sat, still looking at his paper and pretending he wasn’t listening, and Aelin shot him a grin.
“For your information, you little demon,” Evalin smiled, “even though I’m sure Lysandra’s filled you in at least partially, yes, Perranth has been bought.”
Lysandra looked back at her, a wide and excited smile on her face, so ridiculous that Aelin had to laugh.
“So what stuffy gentleman is making his rounds this time?” Aelin asked, plopping down into the chair across from her mother. Evalin scoffed.
“Don’t be so pessimistic, dear,” she lectured, setting down her embroidery hoop, “maybe you’ll really like him.” It was Aelin’s turn to scoff.
“I don't think I’ll ever find someone I like.” She lifted a hand to her forehead dramatically. “Which is why I shall die an old maid.” She succeeded in making Lysandra chuckle as she sat in the seat next to her.
“And who is going to pay for all of your books after we die?” Evalin said, raising her brows. “That should be your husband’s job.”
“You know what I’m going to say, mama,” Aelin said, shrugging nonchalantly.
“Then you know what I’m going to say, too.” Evalin crossed her ankles delicately. “I would give you our money if I could but there’s simply no way to untangle it and no way to bypass law and have you inherit it.” Aelin scowled. “It’s going to go off to a distant cousin, unfortunately, and we’ll just have to see who it is.”
“You don’t even know who it is?” Aelin asked incredulously, and Rhoe finally set down his paper.
“We do know,” he said, his tone light, “but we don’t really know him. I haven’t seen him since he was a baby.”
Aelin jumped on the words. “So you’ve met him?”
“If that counts, then yes,” he said before returning to his paper.
Aelin rolled her eyes and turned back to her mother. Lysandra took the chance to chime back in.
“What’s his name?” She asked eagerly. “And what about the people he’s bringing with him?” Evalin smiled at the two of them, warmth in her eyes.
“I believe it’s a Mr. Lorcan Salvaterre moving in, and he’s bringing his distant relation Remelle LaFleur, I’m not sure of why,” she admitted.
“Lorcan Salvaterre,” Lysandra repeated, making a noncommittal noise. “Interesting. I wonder what he looks like.”
Aelin shot her a grin. “Hopefully like that soldier you had a crush on two years ago, right? Wesley?” Lysandra shoved her slightly, frowning at her teasing.
“What about his friend?” She continued, instead of responding to Aelin’s snark.
“Mr. Rowan Whitethorn,” Evalin said with a conspirator’s tone. “He’s from Doranelle, and from what I hear, he’s even richer than Mr. Salvaterre.” Lysandra’s eyes were saucers, but Aelin laughed a bit harshly.
“That’s a pretentious name,” she said, leaning back in her chair.
“With his kind of wealth I don’t think it matters how pretentious his name is,” Evalin said, tilting her head at her daughter, “you should try and meet him Aelin, see if he’s interested in you.”
“Yeah right,” she raised her brows, “I’d rather move to Fenharrow and join a traveling carnival troupe.”
Evalin looked at her disapprovingly, but turned to her husband. “Don’t you think Aelin should be introduced to them both? See if one of them is a good match? In fact, you should go introduce yourself to them, so when we see them out you can introduce them to the girls.”
She sounded excited by the idea, but Rhoe just made a dismissive noise.
“Rhoe, you have to help us out here!” Lysandra chimed in, calling him by his first name. It might’ve been weird in other families, but Aelin had never considered it odd, it was just how it was.
“I’m not sure I’m convinced by these men,” Rhoe said, shrugging his shoulders and setting down the paper. “They come here throwing their money around, gaining a reputation before they’ve even met anyone. Why should we expose our daughters to that?”
Aelin didn’t miss the way Lysandra smiled at the word.
“Everyone else in the county will be rushing to meet them,” Evalin huffed. “It’s only right that we join the crowd, or better yet, get ahead of the crowd.”
“I don’t know,” Rhoe repeated, and Aelin grinned at the way he smiled knowingly as the other two women tried to argue with him. She had a suspicion, but she was waiting for him to confirm it. “Alright alright!” He finally said, laughing at the pair. “Don’t worry, okay? In fact, there’s no need to worry.”
“What do you mean?” Evalin furrowed her brows.
“I’ve already met them both,” he said, and Evalin and Lysandra made sounds of surprise. “Mr. Whitethorn didn’t talk much, but Mr. Salvaterre seems nice, if a bit reserved, but I think he’d at least be open to meeting new people.”
“Is he coming to the ball next week?” Lysandra asked, and Aelin raised her brows at her father, actually curious at the question.
“I believe so,” he nodded, and Lysandra smiled and practically squealed with excitement, standing up and pulling Aelin out of her chair to spin around, making her laugh.
This was certainly going to be an interesting year.
Uh–excuse me. I am hilarious. Very funny is for mere mortals *giant grin; was this the moment to clarify that he was, indeed, hilarious? well, no, but it was a fact that he was proud about… bc humor was almost as good as coping w issues, right? RIGHT!?!?! V v v v serious nod* You're right. I definitely have not learned my lesson. I bet that doing this a good, oh, hundred more times would drill the point home. And maybe a daily refresher. *laughs at himself* At least until my body remembers that I'm middle-aged and slowly breaks down from constant use. *and at the rate he was ready and willing to jump her, it might be a v real possibility. *snickers* It definitely is not. *rolls eyes* She gets all the firsts! First sex dream of a coworker at the hospital, first surgeon inside you. If I were the jealous type I'd be dueling her. *not the jealous type. maybe the really fucking insecure type, but not the jealous type. mostly. there were exceptions; wiggles eyebrows* I knew it! Everyone wants a piece of this! *kisses sweetly* But all this is your problem, now, so I can't be giving it away unless distinctly told. *ridiculous bashfulness of someone who was just, quite literally, inside the other human but lovely confessions about lovely feelings made him feel all kinds of ways. but you know what happened when he was kissing her? she couldn't watch him blush like a fool, so that is 100% what he did* I do feel safe with you, for what it's worth. In a way I haven't felt in a while. Safe enough to be happy and horrify Billy by being nice. *chuckles, waves index finger in explanation* Well, dried cum feels itchy! *no need to elaborate; winces, surrenders* but, yeah, the environment thing is just bullshit. We are not the major contributors to climate change and an extra five minute shower isn't killing any polar bears. *smiles up at her, accepts being forced upright bc showers require moving which is a step he did not foresee. tugs her towards him w a laugh, stops them to kiss, makes a contented noise* I love you *kiss* so much *kiss* it's crazy. *makes sure faucets of death are not on and water is warm bc fuck cold showers; cups her face, kisses crown* So, what's our plan for tomorrow? Are we going to face the desk-ghost-shaped elephant in the room? I am totally fine with avoidance but I don't think he'll take it very kindly if we just keep delaying his warnings. -Stephen
*cups face; coos* Yes, you ARE hilarious. And you know what they say...funny people are tortured people. *kisses slowly; for some reason wants him to really sit w that bc his humor IS the one coping mechanism he has other than projecting his dickhead persona* I’ll be sure to share our treatment plan with HR. I bet they’ll be thrilled. *snorts* What are you? A decade old sedan? I’d hate to know what that maintenance looks like...or getting new parts. *laughs; he was nothing short of adorable* To be clear, I did NOT enjoy having her inside me in that capacity. Even if it was necessary. And she didn’t get first kiss, love confession, or orgasm. But who’s keeping score? And even if we were, you’d lose that duel since you love surrounding yourself with people who can kick your ass. *boops nose; smirks* Pretty much from the first moment I met you. Even if your general demeanor made me feel otherwise. Nothing that some good hate sex couldn’t have figured out for us under different circumstances. *getting into kiss; opens one eye* Unless distinctly told? *smiles; he was still flushed but she didn’t have to bring attention to that. brushes thumb over temple* It means everything. And don’t tell Billy this, but it’s probably a good thing you’re keeping him on his toes. He’s far too comfortable where he is in his career as well. *laughs bc wow did he get riled up about this* I mean, we probably have a greater environmental impact in our two nights staying here than a person in a rural village in China does in their whole life. But I’m no expert. *delighted giggle w new affection* The feeling is mutual. Always has been. *bc suddenly v committed to making sure the relationship narrative wasn’t just him pining in his lonesome. removes necklace that miraculously isn’t covered in, erm, him and sets on bathroom counter. tugs him into shower since it was safe for anyone shorter than 5’ 2”* You’ll wash this off me, yes? Excellent excuse to keep your hands on me. *sighs; it was the inevitable question* I really think we should go back. As far as I know, the stalker ex situation was the warning. But I’m not totally sure if there’s anything else. Either way, we’ll have to deal with it. *shrugs* Have you had any memorable dreams? Aside from *glances down*
Birthdate: 1990, that’s all you need to know.
Birthplace location: Europe.
Where you live now: Still Europe. More precisely, Belgium.
How many siblings do you have? None.
Are you the oldest, in the middle, or youngest? I’m an only child.
Do you wear glasses or contacts? Glasses. I’d rather die that put something on my eyeball, thank you. Just the idea alone freaks me out.
Do you look like your Mom or your Dad? Hard to say. I look a bit like my mum when she was my age, but I look more like both sisters of my dad and I have almost identical laugh to the younger one.
How tall are you? 180 cm. Yup it’s pretty much for a woman.
Would you change your height if you could? If yes...taller or shorter? Why would I. It’s nice to be taller than most of people around.
What color is your hair? Purple-ish. Time to refresh the colour, I think.
Have you ever dyed it? How otherwise would it get purple? :D
Put highlights in it? Tried once.
What grade will you be going into? Level 6 of my school.
Are you excited? Sure, why not.
.::Step 2: Your Home::.
How long have you lived in the house you're living in? About 3 years.
Do you like it there? Sure, although I wouldn’t mind if it was bigger.
Do you have a lot of trees by your house? None at all.
When you look out at your backyard, what do you see? An old fridge, garden table with 3 chairs and some strings to hang the laundry.
How many floors/stories are in your house? Two, plus the attic.
Do you have a basement? If so, is it finished? No, I don’t.
In your basement, do you have a pool table, ping-pong table, etc? Hehe maybe if I was a millionnaire. And actually had a basement.
How many rooms are in your house? Three.
Do you like your bedroom? Sure, although I would love to have it bigger. And the walls definitely need to be repainted.
Describe your room: small, a bit messy, four walls, two windows, wooden floor, ceiling. Not much to talk about. We have a TV there and PS3 that acts as a DVD player.
What color is the carpet in your room? We don’t have carpets in our house.
Do you have your own bathroom or do you have to share one? We have only one bathroom.
How many bathrooms are in your house? As I said.
What is across the hall from your room? Across what? XD it’s too small to be called a hall. But next door there’s the room of my partner’s son.
Do you have a TV or a computer in your room? Yes, TV.
.::Step 3: Your Job::.
Do you have a job? Yes, I do.
What is it? I’m an industrial electrician. I mostly make high voltage transformers, control racks and automatic coupling for trains, but I also used to help renowate trams and make door opening/closing electrical harnesses and harnesses for brakes, also for trains.
How long does it usually take you to get to work? 15 minutes by car, and actually same amount by bike.
Do you like your job? I love it.
Do you like the people you work with? Mostly, yes. I’m very lucky because my team consists mostly of people whom I know from another project, so we’ve been knowing each other for years.
Do you work inside or outside? Inside a factory hall.
Do you wish you could change your job? NEVER.
How long have you been working at this job? 7+ years.
Do you have to wear a uniform or certain attire? Yeah, I have to wear work clothes and safety boots.
If it rains, does it affect your job? I wish I said no, but our hall is not the newest one, so. XD
How many hours do you usually work in a week? 40.
Do you like how much you get paid or do you wish you got more? Not gonna lie, for such a responsible job we should be paid more. But who am I to say it.
Does your best friend work at the same job as you? My boyfriend is my best friend. He works in the same factory as me, but he’s not an electrician; he belongs to the warehouse staff, being a team leader there. He’s responsible for delivering supplies to me.
Is your job a summer job or do you work all year? All year, permanent contract. Yay.
How would rate your job from 1-10 (with 10 being you love it): 16.
.::Step 4: Your Hobbies/Activities/Favorites::.
What's your favorite sport to play? to watch? Basketball for both.
Do you collect anything? Yes, pens and notebooks. Also postcards from every place I visit, as long as I can find any.
Do you prefer to watch TV or watch a movie? TV. Movies make me fall asleep.
What's your favorite TV show? A few soap operas and other TV series. I have a bland taste for that :P
Favorite movie? Not a movie person here.
What's your favorite kind of music to listen to? I listen to pretty much anything, from pop to black metal, from industrial to hip hop, from techno to jazz, from rock to classical. I’m not picky.
Have you ever been to a concert? Sure, a few times.
Who's your favorite band/artist? I don’t have favourite bands or artists. I only have favourite songs and I believe every artist has at least one song that is worth listening.
Have you been to their concert? I don’t think this question is applicable to me :P
Do you have an iPod? No, never wanted any.
What's your favorite thing to do on a rainy day? Reading books, filling in surveys, watching TV, studying, listening to music, sleeping, doing something creative.
Do you like to read? I love to read.
What's your favorite sports team? None here.
Have you been to a professional sports game in the last 2 months? Hahaha, ask corona about it XD
Who is your favorite athlete? None here.
.::Step 5: Your Future::.
What will you be doing 2 weeks from now? Who knows. Probably working.
What about 2 months from now? Same.
2 years? Same.
Where are you going to college? I’m 31, hello.
What will you be majoring in? I have done it a few years ago.
What job are you hoping to get when you get out of college? Jesus Christ, I’m too old for this survey *starts panicking*
What age is a good age to get married at? Whenever you feel ready.
Where would you like to go on your honeymoon? Finland. Or New York.
How many kids do you want? how many boys? how many girls? None.
Where do you want to live when you're married? Here where I live is okay.
Where will you be spending your next birthday? How old will you be turning? 31 in a few days, I’m gonna bring candy to work and that’s it.
When's a good age to retire? What do you want to do once you're retired? 60 would be okay, but nope, not in this country. I would travel, I think.
[warning for: non consensual kissing, implied abusive living situations]
As Halloween grew closer, Tommy (bundled up in the same scarf and loafers as Bruce) asked if anyone had plans for the evening.
Clark hadn’t celebrated Halloween in a couple of years now. Not really. Maybe a Halloween party here or there but that was it. Houses were too far spaced out for trick-or-treat back home.
“Uh, I mean I think Bruce ‘n I were going to head to the library again, but--” Clark began, looking to the other boy for confirmation.
Bruce began to nod, but--
“No, Bruce and I are gonna go out on the town,” Tommy said, swinging his arm around Bruce’s shoulders and tugging him close.
“...Tommy, curfew exists,” Bruce said, huffing a little.
“Not if we break it, it doesn't,” he said, grinning.
“Uh, okay. Is that an invitation then?” Clark smirked.
Breaking curfew once wouldn’t get him expelled.
“It can be,” Tommy said. “Harv?”
Harvey gave him a look that called him an idiot.
“Gotham on Halloween?” he said. “You're not exactly strolling around the hill houses for candy.”
“Is it bad?” Clark asked. “I’ve actually never been off school grounds.”
He’d never seen the city.
“Halloween’s crazy for crime everywhere,” future lawyer Harvey Dent said flatly. “It's thematic.”
And if Gotham didn't follow a trend towards the thematic… whew.
Bruce just seemed to be taking a moment to be stunned that Clark hadn't been anywhere outside the school.
“Okay,” he said, turning to Tommy. “What’s the plan?”
“I was thinkin’ ice cream and bowling,” Tommy said, grinning. “You wanna plan our escape?”
(Bruce had been thinking too much about the library lately. It was time to steer him towards literally any other thinking direction)
And Bruce nodded, accepting that assignment.
“Sounds fun.” Clark said, shrugging on his jacket.
“So how do you usually sneak out?”
“Badly,” Harvey said, still crossing his arms and clearly not pleased.
“Dodge the guards. Hop the gate,” Bruce said. “Not hard. Easier with a rope. Getting in again’s worse.”
“Cause they actually expect it,” Tommy explained before there were any questions.
“But at least we’re only on the second floor this year. If we weigh down the curtains and leave the window open it shouldn't be noticeable.”
“If it helps any I can jump pretty high,” Clark said. “So you shouldn’t have to worry much about me keeping up.”
Totally within normal human standards. Yes.
Bruce snorted. Laughed almost.
“The gate’s ten feet at lowest,” he said. “Plus spikes.”
Clark was so stuck between keeping everything under cover and bragging. He could fly since he was 10. Ten feet was nothing. Ten feet was laughable.
He opened his mouth, swallowed, and sighed.
Keep it under wraps.
The boys just huddled together again, nodding and still discussing. “So, do we need rope? Or are we gonna be able to grip the bars?”
“I need the rope,” Harvey said miserably.
“Got it,” Tommy said. “Leave it to me.”
“Please don't steal stuff and get us in more trouble when we get caught.”
“Never,” Tommy promised. “As if Bruce and I would get caught.”
(Bruce laughed then, but it was anxious for different reasons, then.)
“I’ll be able to grip the bars.” Clark said, for what little it was worth. For a moment he even considered offering to carry Harvey over on his back, but he thought maybe that was too much.
Could kids his age carry kids their own size on their backs?
He looked pensive for a moment.
No. Probably not.
“Anything I can help with?”
Tommy shook his head just as Bruce did.
“Lay low,” Bruce said. “...have any hats?”
Clark thought about that before turning and digging through his things.
He slapped on an old, beat up John Deere baseball cap.
Bruce made a distressed face.
“...have any other hats?”
“I gotta winter hat but it’s not that cold out.”
“What’s wrong with my hat?”
“That Bruce’s gotta wear it,” Tommy said, grinning.
… Clark grinned, took off the hat, and shoved it onto Bruce.
“Nnnooo,” Bruce said, hat shoved onto his head and shoved down even more securely by Tommy.
It tilted his dark hair out of place and looked completely out of place with his ironed white oxford and school blazer.
“It suits ya.” Clark grinned.
It really didn’t.
“You're a shit liar,” Bruce said.
“Quick, get the smallest shirt you have, Kent. He still sticks out too much!”
“Just use some of mi--” Harvey started to say.
But that got hushed as Tommy urged them into a game of Bruce Dressup, and Halloween grew ever closer, until finally the night arrived.
Clark couldn’t do anything about Bruce’s very pressed pants, but he could find a small shirt for him.
‘Small’ being relative.
Bruce would drown in it a little, but at least in the end he didn’t stand out so much in his old ratty John Deere hat.
And when the night arrived he followed their lead.
….Bruce, unwillingly, donned the shirt and cap when it was finally time, looking a bit more like a ruffian with the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbow and the cap on his uncombed hair.
It made him look shorter. His face seemed rounder. Almost puppyish.
He was a very determined looking puppy as they rigged up their window so that the corner of the bunk bed jutted into view of the opening.
Tommy had, indeed, acquired a rope from somewhere, and they tied one end into a loop, tossing it around the shallow jut of the bedpost and getting ready.
Tommy was lookout as Bruce descended first.
Then Harvey. They'd wait for Clark. Tommy last. They flicked the rope until it came loose from the bedpost, gathered it up, and raced to the gate, sneaking around the buildings and in the bushes in the low light.
The gate was closed for the night, and they snuck under the desk guard to reach it.
Again, Bruce took it first, climbing up between the bars using the traction on his shoe to get up.
The rope was thrown over between the spokes at the top. Used to control their descent.
He ushered Clark to mimic him once he'd made it to the other side and decided it was clear. Harvey had to have his foot in the loop and he pulled over to make it.
Tommy went last again, staying behind to make sure Harvey had someone to catch him if he fell.
And they were outside.
It was hard for Clark to do things like these guys.
He… might have flown a little to descend out of the window a little faster, but kept his feet on the wall and his hands gripped to the rope so at least it looked like he was doing it like everyone else.
The gate though.
He tried to mimic Bruce as best he could, but it looked a little too… flawless. He didn’t strain or land on the other side very hard.
But they had made it.
… And outside, in the dark, there was even more light for his eyes to catch than usual.
He was lucky the boys were largely too focused on their own descents to notice.
That streetlights were common enough to make his eyes look somewhat normal for the moment.
Once they were on the street, Tommy and Harvey definitely took the lead, steering them up north of the academy, to a slightly more crowded--and festive--area.
“Is this what you guys do every year?” Clark asked anyone who wanted to answer.
He always kinda wondered what these rich city kids did for fun.
“What? No way,” Tommy said. “I mean. That'd be nice…”
Harvey shook his head, too. His hands were wrapped around his elbows in a self-protective hug. “Normally wouldn't be able to get away with it.”
“Besides. Our old roommate was really bad at stuff,” Tommy added. “Like not getting all of us in trouble.”
“Spent last year in detention,” Bruce mumbled.
(By now, Clark knew that didn't necessarily mean Bruce had done anything to deserve detention.
It could've just been he'd been around while someone did something. Or been the dorm mate of someone who did something.
...Harvey’s caving to come made more sense if he would just be punished anyway, if they were caught.)
“So, what, you just spend Halloween in your dorm studying? That’s… a lot less than I expected out here.” Clark said, not looking as defensive as maybe he should have been in Gotham of all places, hands in his pockets and head up.
(Bruce kept his head down and the baseball cap over his eyes.)
“...what did you think we did?” Bruce asked. “Orgies? I'm taking you out for ice cream and bowling, Kent.”
“I dunno… parties? I thought that's what rich kids did. Go to clubs. Drink. That kinda thing.”
“... Not that I'm saying I want to do those things, but…” Clark shrugged.
All the same, all three kids had paused in walking to stare at him.
“...I wouldn't even be able to set foot out of the house if Mom had her way,” Tommy said, staring.
“....” Bruce just had that look on his face.
“Hey. I worked my way in,” Harvey said.
“I did too!” said Tommy, turning on Harvey a little. “I had to barter to get here.”
Bruce shuffled a little closer to Clark and breathed out, “their dads are the ones who drank all night.”
And that was all he mumbled before trying to step forward and break up the fight again.
The bowling alley would close, late hours or not, if they didn't get a-moving.
“Oh.” He mumbled to Bruce, and started walking too.
“Sorry, I guess the TV makes you think one thing even when it isn't very true. Sounds like I get it more'n you guys.”
Once more they turned, surprised.
“You've fucked?” Tommy said.
He had definitely pegged Clark for a virgin.
Clark nearly tripped over his own feet.
“N-no!! No! God.”
He was beet red.
“Did you mean ‘out’?’” Harvey asked, baffled, at the same time as Tommy said, “oh. Okay. Harv still has company then, at least.”
Bruce could finally see the bowling alley coming up. Extended hours for the weekend.
Ice cream parlor across the street.
“Ugh, shut up.” Clark groaned, following them while rubbing his face to try and get some of the red from his cheeks.
“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy said, dropping it as they ducked into the building. It was much warmer inside. “...it's not like we have the money to get into clubs or buy alcohol, though. Seriously.”
“TV,” Harvey shrugged, quietly trying to reassure Clark a little that it was fine.
“What’d ya mean? You at least get an allowance, right?” Clark said.
“Even I get an allowance. Or at least paid a little when I help out on the farm.”
….Harvey shook his head. “...my family doesn't have the money for an allowance, anyway.”
Tommy just scowled. “If I see any of my dad’s money it'll be long after mom’s died.”
Meanwhile, Bruce ducked his head, and pulled out a ten dollar bill, handing it to Tommy, who took it and huffed up to the counter to pay, being the one who was clearly not dark-haired Bruce Wayne in a baseball cap and oversized shirt.
“...I get an allowance,” he admitted. “But it's not like I’m going to hike ten miles into the city from the manor to use it.”
“Jeeze…” He mumbled over Tommy talking about his mom needed to die for him to get his dad’s money.
“I guess that makes sense.” He said to Bruce again, watching Tommy pay for them.
“Thanks for treatin’ us though.”
Even if it made sense Bruce would pay for it. Still polite to thank him.
Bruce smiled a little. “Yeah. No problem. It's nice to get out. Thanks for the hat.”
“Shoooes!!” Tommy called once he'd paid, waving them over to change.
A four player game was being set up for them, the first letters of their names being their designations.
And ready to go.
A night away.
Clark smiled back.
He got his change of shoes and then looked around for the heaviest ball they had. It still wouldn’t be enough to offset his throw, but it would help. It was easier not to look too strong when you needed to roll it rather than throw it. It was just a matter of dialing back the momentum.
His first throw though it went way too fast. Nothing that would break everything in its way, but still just too fast.
He would try and hide his distressed face and play it off and… dial it back for the one after that.
The desk manager warned him the ball was probably way too heavy, but thankfully, the other three boys seemed to tack up his wild throw to weight and momentum, laughing wildly as it careened impressively fast-- into the gutter.
“Beautiful!” Tommy whistled at him.
“Like you'll do any better,” Harvey said.
(And Tommy did not.)
But after a few rounds, everyone was adjusting a little better to the balls, and…
Bruce sat beside Clark while waiting his turn, and jeered the others when they missed just like they did him.
And… seemed relaxed and happy for once.
“Hah!” Clark hollered as Tommy did just as poorly as him.
As the night went on though he did get used to rolling the ball down the lane and compensating for how little it weighed to him in comparison.
It was a lot of fun.
He cheered and jeered everyone when they did well or poorly, jabbing them with words just the same as they did him. He tended to stick to Bruce more than Harvey or Tommy. They had grown to know each other a lot better over the past month working on their Court of Owls stuff.
It was good.
This was fun.
He was clapping and laughing along with the rest of them, and upon noticing Bruce looked happy too he would give him a little nudge and a smile.
Happy to see him happy.
Bruce had gotten a lot better at being casual with Clark with their search together the last month, but--
It wasn't as if he smiled much during the investigating. It wasn't like he was giddy over crime scenes. Any excitement he had about finding a pattern quickly turned to seriousness as soon as he had to explain what he’d noticed.
And in school, he said little. Let people part in front of him or walk by him without any seeming preference.
But here, finally, it was just fun.
...through some twist of fate, Harvey’s score was highest at the end of the game.
They had no real way they planned to reward the winner. But it was fine if they just mocked Bruce's place in dead last.
He had wonderful aim, after all--if he was aiming for the gutter.
But when the game ended, Bruce trotted over to the shoes, picking up his and Clark’s, and bringing them back over to change quietly before heading across the street for the last half hour the ice cream parlor would be open.
Bruce didn't have to tell Tommy what he wanted--a float--but Tommy would ask the other two before trotting up once more with Bruce’s cash in hand to pay and order at the counter while the four slid into a booth.
And maybe because Tommy was up paying, Bruce found himself sliding in beside Clark to sit across from Tommy, instead of beside him for once.
Clark’s choice of ice cream was pretty much the most boring of all; a vanilla shake.
He sat on the inside by the window, and didn’t think twice about Bruce sliding in beside him.
“How often have you gone bowling before, Harvey?”
Harvey shook his head. A lot. “Almost none? I think in Jr High we went once as a class trip, but I was terrible at it.”
“Harv has two settings,” Bruce said, leaning his chin on his hand and very carefully not putting his elbow on the table. “Professional, and worst luck ever.”
Clark snorted, “Man now I feel worse, I go bowling like… at least once a year when my friends and I are bored back home. It’s one of the few things to do back in Smallville.”
“Yeah?” Bruce said, leaning in a little, interested. “You've mentioned your town a couple times. What's it like?”
“Lives up to the name.” Clark smiled. “Small. Bowling alley, gas station, market. Got one street light in the whole town. The farm is about five miles from the center of town, you gotta have a car or a bike to get anywhere.”
“People always hang out by the train tracks or the ol’ Glott farm that’s cavin’ in on itself.”
“Does it rain any less?” Harvey asked, a little sardonic, but still listening all the same.
It was about then that Tommy came back with their ice cream.
Vanilla shake. Two root beer floats. A sundae.
But when he made it to the table, he paused before setting things down, as if he had to… look around and see where they were all sitting for a second.
“Yeah but we gotta worry about tornados way more.” Clark said, and was already reaching for his shake since he was the only one to get one by the looks of things.
“Y’welcome,” Tommy said, and... passed out the rest.
Sundae for Harvey. Floats for him and Bruce. He sat across from Bruce at the table, and didn't interrupt the conversation. Just started to drink silently through his straw.
“...are tornadoes actually like what they say?” Bruce asked. “I read they can pick up a carton of eggs and just set them down miles away, completely intact.”
“Oh yeah, they’re capable of some crazy stuff. After one I saw someone’s record just… stuck in a tree. Like it was a razor blade. Powerlines bent over like they were made of playdough. Then sometimes it’ll set a full can of soda down on someone’s steps without a dent.”
He took a sip from his milkshake, oblivious to anything amiss with Tommy.
It was a nice way to ease into the later part of the night. A nice wind-down from bowling as they asked questions about Kansas and what it was like to live on a farm. In a small town.
When his float was almost drained, Bruce stood, saying, “bathroom, be right back,” and turned to head to the back of the shop.
“Me too,” said Tommy, following along behind him a moment later, wobbling to get out of the table with his long legs.
(They turned a corner and headed into the boy’s bathroom, and once they were there, door shut against anyone listening, Tommy said, “Bruce?”)
“Okay,” Clark said, and thought nothing of it. He slurped the last of his shake through his straw.
But he did overhear their conversation, whether he intended to or not.
Neither did Harvey, who had gotten content to just sit and listen after a while, and was now just quietly watching the street go by, trying to find room in himself to finish up his sundae.
(“Hm?” Bruce said.
“Are you mad at me?”
“What? No. Why would I be mad at you?”
“You’ve been avoiding me, lately,” said Tommy.)
… Clark turned and looked in the direction of the bathroom.
He didn’t look too hard. Not yet. But he was definitely listening.
As far as he knew Bruce wasn’t mad at Tommy at all.
Nothing had changed.
“Don't lie to me,” Tommy said, voice no louder, but a thousand times more sharp than it'd been a moment before.
There was a stutter in Bruce’s heart.
“We tell each other everything,” he said. “I told you everything. And now all you do is hang out with Clark.”
“...we’re just looking stuff up,” Bruce said, voice low and careful. “It's just hanging out. It's different.”
“Really? Because you barely ask to just hang out with me. You were gonna be with him before I got this plan together, you remember?”
There was a footstep. A set of footsteps. Shuffling around.
Clark narrowed his eyes.
He glanced at Harvey, then leaned his head in his hands to try and hide the line of sight to his eyes as they glowed blue and looked harder.
Into the boy’s bathroom.
He'd find them both shuffled into the two-stall bathroom, neither in stalls. Just Bruce taking a step back towards the back wall, and the tail end of Tommy moving forward, teeth clenched in distress.
“It's not like that,” Bruce said, keeping his voice certain, even if he didn't look it. “We came along, we went with your plan, didn't we? You're still my best friend, Tommy, come on--”
“Prove it,” Tommy said.
“What?” said Bruce, furrowing his nose.
“I told you everything Bruce,” Tommy said, and took a step forward once more, even without Bruce moving back. “So if you really care then just--”
And Tommy had pushed Bruce by the shoulders against the wall, and pushed their mouths together.
For a long, silent moment, Bruce just stared, unresponsive at him.
Then, he reeled back with a punch, and slammed Tommy flat on his back.
Before Clark knew it he had crushed his now empty shake glass in his hand.
“Gnnhshit.” He mumbled, blinking hard and looking away from the bathroom.
The woman working behind the counter was already looking up and heading towards their booth to see what happened.
Harvey practically jumped in his seat at the shattering, turning to stare. “Oh, crap! Are you okay?!”
He grabbed a napkin and started trying to help, dabbing up the spilled milkshake and reaching for Clark’s hand to check for injuries.
“Yeah, I’m-- yeah I’m fine.”
He showed him his hand.
No blood. No glass stuck in it.
“What happened over here?” The woman asked, and Clark mumbled out something that was hard to hear. Something like ‘wasn’t paying attention’ and ‘sorry’.
“There must've been a crack in the glass,” Harv reasoned, helping her pick the glass up from the floor and countertop. “It just broke while you were holding it?”
From the back of the shop, two boys exited the bathroom.
“Did something happen?” Bruce asked, coming over.
(Tommy was quiet, behind him.)
Clark started to help too.
“Broke my glass.” Was all he managed, still a little too stunned to say much.
“You kids be careful, I’ll clean this up. Don’t worry about it.” The woman said, trying to shoo them off lest they end up cutting themselves.
The other three figured he was stunned from his glass exploding in his hand, and they shyly backed off a bit as the waitress shooed them.
“Sorry about this-- here,” he said, and shuffled in his pocket.
He pulled out a five.
“Whatever doesn't replace the glass is a tip,” he said, handing it to her.
“Sorry.” Clark said again, and carefully got out of the booth, picking any glass off his lap if there was any.
“Thank you young man.” The woman said, not recognizing who it was handing her the money.
“It's no problem,” he said, but even though she didn't recognize him at that moment, he still was hit by an overwhelming urge to put the cap on and hurry the group outside.
If Clark had ice cream in his lap, it was wiped off with napkins, and Tommy said, at some point, “we should probably head back.”
He and Bruce left their floats unfinished, and were ready to get out the door.
“Yeah. Good idea.” Clark said, and quickly started to walk towards the door.
Things were going to be so awkward back in the dorm.
Should he ask Bruce about it??
Bruce and Tommy said nothing. Nothing at all about what happened.
They followed Tommy and Harvey back to the Academy’s gates and took the rope out of Harv’s bag to throw it up again and get them all over.
Bruce first. The surest climber. Clark. Harvey.
Tommy picked up last. A sure climber, but big enough to catch them if they fell.
They snuck back on campus. Lassoed the end of the bed in their window, and rock climbed their way up the building in reverse order. Tommy lookout up top to keep the knot stable. Bruce, surest climber, getting up when no one would be there to catch him if he fell.
...once they were on campus, all three boys fell into their usual quiet, reserved for avoiding detection after hours, but still-- Harvey said, quietly, “...thanks for doing this. I think I needed to have a day.”
“Course,” Tommy said, stripping to his Pjs and grinning. “Anytime.”
Bruce nodded too.
“It was a good idea.”
...he returned the hat. The shirt.
He tugged on his night clothes too.
As if nothing had happened.
Clark followed them all in, kicking off his shoes and sitting on the edge of his bed as everyone wound down.
“... Yeah. Was fun.” He said, trying to sound convincing.
It was already way past hours and he didn’t want to risk sneaking out in his street clothes, so even he changed into his pajamas in the room too. At least the lights were off so maybe they wouldn’t notice anything weird.
Not that he was… that weird. A little more jacked than a sixteen year old should be, but it was dark, so…
He hurried through it and climbed into bed.
...tonight, they were all a little too distracted to really notice.
Even Bruce was too tired to have one of his quiet nightmares, which surprised even him upon waking.
...and upon waking, Tommy and Bruce would get changed together as usual.
Head off to class after sitting together at breakfast.
No hint of what had occurred between them the night before.
Clark changed in the bathroom again that morning. He was still too self-conscious to do it around everyone else.
He didn't mention anything to anyone. He ate breakfast with the others, went to classes even if it was just him and Tommy in the same one.
Waited until that evening when again it was just him and Bruce walking to the library.
“Hey, so… last night.”
“You and Tommy fight or anything? I thought I heard something when we got ice cream.”
There was an uptick in Bruce’s heart rate, but his confused expression revealed nothing of the sort.
“No? Maybe you heard him spook me when I got out of the stall. Wasn't expecting him.”
“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Is what he said instead though rather than keep prying. “Just checking that you guys are okay.”
“...why wouldn't we be?” Bruce asked, his own thoughts loud panic bells that couldn't be heard by anyone else.
No one could know. Even if Bruce didn't want it. That didn't matter as much as Tommy had done it and Bruce was a boy.
And he didn't want to know what their teachers, or the press, or Tommy’s Mom would do if they found out.
“Is something wrong?”
“Tommy seemed kinda distracted I guess. Quiet. Normally he doesn't shut up.” Clark tried to huff a laugh.
“But maybe I'm reading too much into it. I was kinda distracted too.”
“He might be tired,” Bruce said, making a mental note to tell Tommy to talk more. (Maybe it’d even make him happy.) “or dreading break, now that it's officially November.”
Clark had made it to the third month.
“Dreading-- oh right, he doesn't seem to like his mom very much.” Clark said, wanting to get off the topic he brought up.
“Man I can't wait to go home and visit.”
“...it hasn't been a good couple years between them, yeah,” Bruce admitted. “...what are you going to do at home?”
Clark shrugged, “See my friends. See Ma ‘n Pa? Pet my dog?” He chuckled.
“... What do you do on break?”
“....” Bruce needed to think a moment. “Walk. Mostly.”
It sounded so weird Clark needed to make sure he heard right.
“Around the grounds. I walk. Maybe read.”
He would definitely read. But.
Even he got tired of reading.
A massive manor with nothing to do in it but wander.
“Don't have any other family to spend Christmas with?”
He shook his head.
“...the Kanes, I guess. But no. We’re Jewish, anyway.”
“...and Tommy and Harvey’s parents won't let them escape long enough for coming over.”
“It's fine,” he said, already sensing the look on Clark’s face. “It's been like this for years. It's not upsetting or anything. Just dull.”
“Would you wanna come spend it at my place?”
Bruce turned to look at him, startled.
Like he hadn't quite understood for a moment.
“Do you wanna come spend break at my house? In Smallville?” Clark asked again as though Bruce hadn't heard.
“I'd have to call my parents but I don't think they'd say no.”
Before he'd even said he wanted to, Bruce was doing math in his head.
Clark had been open about how his family couldn't really afford GA. Last minute decision to come. If they couldn't afford that with only one kid it might be rough to take in another and
(Okay. Okay. What do I have to do to get out. How much money. What did he have to do.)
“Yeah,” he said, calculating the price of a plane ticket if Alfred tried to say ‘no.’ Taxi fee. Plane ticket. Get out. “Yeah, if they say yes-- they don't have to worry about much from me, I can pay for my own food and room if they need me to.”
Clark laughed a little, “You don't have to pay for room ‘n food. Maybe bus ticket though.” He stopped and looked around for one of the school's pay phones.
“You got a quarter?”
He would need to call and ask. Letters were too slow for this.
Bruce didn't usually carry the money around school, but he dropped his book bag and started rooting around in it for a stray quarter in the bottom, finally coming up victorious.
Clark took it and walked over to one of the phones bolted to the wall, pushing in his money before dialing back home.
“Hey Ma. … I'm good. Um, question actually. Would you mind if a friend comes over for break? His name is Bruce. … Nah he's-- well he's Jewish but he usually spends it alone, so-- yeah. He can buy his own ticket don't worry about it. Can he use the guest room? Cool.”
Then he paused.
“Uhhhhhhh okay. Hold on.”
He held the phone to Bruce. “She wants to talk to you.”
Bruce’s spine was straight as a rail and his shoulders set, the way they always were when he knew exactly what he wanted and was staring down something in his way.
He nodded and took the phone.
“Yes, ma’am?” he said.
“Hello, Bruce? Clark says you're thinkin’ about staying with us over break. I'm fine with that but I need to know, have you run this by your parents?” A kind-sounding woman on the other end asked.
“Oh my god.” Clark groaned, having not gotten to that part yet with her and able to overhear it over the phone. He mouthed a 'sorry’ at Bruce.
“My guardian will be fine with it,” Bruce said, not letting a pang of anything show on his face. “He's been hoping I'd find someone to be with.”
“... Really?” The woman on the other end said. “I know you boys are at school but is there any way I can call your… ‘guardian’ and make sure?”
Clark was rubbing his eyes.
“Yes,” he said. “And if you tell him we called Kansas he’ll handle the distance fee.”
He gave her the manor phone number.
“Let me call him real fast and make sure he knows.”
He mouthed to Clark, ‘kidnapping plot,’ and rolled his eyes.
Clark gave him a ‘really??’ look like he didn’t quite believe it, but said nothing.
“Okay, thank you Bruce. Is there anything I should know before you come over? Allergies…?”
Bruce nodded, looking bored as sin thinking about it.
He had to let Alfred know the nice lady on the phone was not trying to get permission to sneakily kidnap him or else he'd never get out of here.
“No, nothing like that.”
“Okay, I’ll make up the guest bed for you. Mind handing the phone back to Clark?”
He did. Handed the phone back.
Listened from the short distance between them.
You didn't need super hearing to do that. And Bruce’s ears were still sharper than most.
Clark took the phone.
“Is this the Bruce you’ve been writing home about?”
“You sure his parents are going to be okay with it?”
“Guardian, Ma. He’s got a guardian. And yeah, probably.”
There was a moment of silence on the other end.
“Oh. Ohhhh. Okay, honey.”
Clark thunked his head onto the side of the payphone and looked like he would rather die. “So it’s cool? You don’t have to worry about him getting there or anything. He can afford a bus--” He paused and turned to look at Bruce.
“You gonna get a bus ticket and come with me or like…?”
“However I should get there,” he said, letting Clark suffer. “...might have to borrow your hat again for the first part, if it's a bus from here.”
“Yeah he’s gonna get a bus ticket with me.” Clark said. “Anyway we got studyin’ to do so--”
“Okay honey. I’ll call Bruce’s guardian tonight to make sure. But I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks?”
“Okay. Love you, sweetie.”
“.... Love you too, Ma.” Clark said a little quieter before saying goodbye and hanging up.
“You've been writing to her about me?” was the first thing out of Bruce’s mouth.
“Yeah?” Clark said. “I told her I made friends with my roommates. If I didn’t tell her that she’d think I was miserable and alone.”
“... Mentioned we’ve been working on a report, but that’s it really.”
… “Oh, okay,” Bruce said, not really sure what the knot in his chest (which was normal to have) meant right now, and whether it was loosening or tightening at that.
“I'll call Alfred,” he said, starting to dig around for another quarter in his bag. “You can go ahead if you want.”
“Nah man, I wanna see if he really does think this is a kidnapping plot.” Clark grinned, leaning up against the wall.
“Ugh,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes again and shoving in the quarter. “I'm doing it so he doesn't.”
He dialed a number. Waited.
“Hello. Alfred Pennyworth. You've reached the Wayne Estate.”
“Hi Alfred,” Bruce said. “I'm going to Kansas for winter break.”
“Pennyworth.” Clark whispered in disbelief.
What. A. Name.
Bruce turned back to look at him. Whispered: “I could've been a millionaire named ‘Pennyworth.’”
“Oh? I see it's all already been decided then, has it Master Bruce?”
Clark was grinning from ear to ear, like this was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard.
Holy crap was he glad he stuck around for this conversation.
That one, Bruce kicked him for.
“...I'm just going to stay with my roommate for a bit. Okay?”
“I see. And which roommate moved to Kansas, again?” Alfred sounded dry.
“...the new one’s from there,” Bruce said. “Look, his mom’s going to call tonight and make sure it's alright. I've still got plenty of allowance. I'll just pack weekend clothes and head out from school.”
“...I see. Are you sure you wouldn't like to--”
The other side of the phone was quiet for a while. Bruce just stared down at the buttons.
“Of course,” Pennyworth finally said. “...but please. Try to keep me more upbraided on things, wouldn't you?”
“It's not hard to find o--”
“I’d just like to not have to go searching all the time is all,” Alfred interrupted. And Bruce went silent again. “...I'm glad you've found someone to spend break with. I'll let his mother know it's fine.”
“...thanks, Alfred,” Bruce said.
And he hung up without saying goodbye.
Clark didn’t move from the kick, but his amusement died a little when things got… not exactly antagonizing between the two, but not fully great either.
“... I’m sure my mom will give him our address and everything.” Clark said when Bruce was finished, pushing himself from the wall so they could start towards the library again.
Bruce nodded. Headed off still feeling good about getting out, but…
Alfred made it hard sometimes.
“Yeah. He'll ask. What are we looking for tonight?”
I was watching an interview between CNN Anchor Brooke Baldwin and rapper Killer Mike. At one point there is a clip shown of the two on a rooftop patio while Killer Mike talks about the importance of encountering people of various different backgrounds.
One thing that went through my mind as Brooke Baldwin was wearing a leather jacket and all black and Killer Mike was wearing a bright red hoodie was the idea that they could or would be having sex. They were literally just on a rooftop, both individuals from a different race, gender and of the same orientation (perceptively) and I asked myself if they were having sex.
I then thought about how I wouldn't have thought about that with two white people. Perhaps I would have thought about the man being too feminine to impress her. It's unnecessary but it comes up.
Perhaps Killer Mike being a big guy or because he's a rapper which is associated with sex played a role. The porn industry uses race to create sensations that help individuals reach orgasm, as well.
I've once thought that human beings might be inclined to engage in sexual activity with people who are from different places. This could have been useful in the state of nature because it would promote pro-social behavior and bring children who represented something to both groups of people.
At this time, indigenous groups are not completely indigenous because they exist alongside urban and rural people on Earth. I say this to point out that no human being could ever be a control group when it comes to society.
Perhaps we should accept that such thoughts will occur. Perhaps we should learn about the origin of our ancestors and learn about the state of nature and also learn about ourselves today. Do we want to have sex with everybody? Do we want to have sex freely and with friends and groups? Why did I care about them two having sex? Is there some part of me that says, "It would be great to have a mulatto baby who is parented by a rapper and news journalist" or "Bring the tribes together". Should we treat our sexualities as wild limbs that we, in private, tame? How much is my experience indicative of humanity, today? Are there lifestyle decisions that influence my thoughts? Is society conditioning me to think such things?
Platonic relationships and platonic actions make up the majority of our behavior. It is how we create gifts for ourselves such as video games, movies, thrill rides and sports. It is also how we direct ourselves with regards to philosophy and governance. I think, in our history and within my own personal history, if I'm being honest, there has been fear that sex would ruin everything.
I've been afraid of the idea that sex is uncontrollable and is the reason why conflicts ever occur in the first place. In my own room, away from everybody else, I asked myself, "Maybe conquests and such were really just people trying to have sex? Maybe it's competition taken to its extreme?". Then I've thought the opposite. I thought that perhaps sex was the only answer and everyone should be completely promiscuous in order to create world peace. This was definitely a thing for me during my bisexual phase. But it also served as a philosophical trap. I believed that I had to behave a certain way in order to be honest and it was at complete odds with the rest of society.
As I write this I think about the reward system. I think about reproduction. When we are here, surely, it's not just so that we continue having sex. We are here to be here. Sex is an experience that is highly enticing. We are a species which has sex with another person in order to begin reproduction. There are species that are unisexual and do not have sex to reproduce.
Sex, like other parts of our design, serves multiple purposes as well. It promotes pro-social behavior. I wonder just how much anybody would do anything else if they could have sex instead. If not, are they healthy? Speaking, of course, of those who are not asexual.
When I orgasm, I lose interest in sex but I don't lose interest in cuddling. In the Hindu religion there are gods who have multiple arms and hands coming out from behind them. Perhaps, we truly are free as a species or have the capacity to reach freedom through maturity. I think the limbs in these depictions represent facets of our mind. They can be directed or left alone. Just like our actual limbs and other controllable body parts. Perhaps after orgasm, one of those limbs does something that our physical limbs could not do. It goes away or shrinks up to make space for the other limbs.
Apparently women can continue to have sex shortly after orgasm. They have much shorter refractory periods. I wonder if there were women leaders who had bands of other people who would host orgies and for them, without stigmas around sex, it was an event that served multiple purposes. They would teach them things during the orgy. Penetrative sex is not the only sex. I am inclined to believe that people in the state of nature did things such as BDSM and role playing.
About a year ago I became much better at approaching orgasm during masturbation. I used to use kinks more often that would oftentimes fail me but with enough repetition I would finally take myself over the edge. But after I realized that in essence, orgasm was an expression of how unbreakable I am.
I have a fetish for cuckolding. It has been the only thing I enjoyed in porn for large portions of my adult porn use life. I think that throughout my day outside of porn I am tied to my gender identity as a man. As a man, I am supposed to never be cheated on. This is tied to how I function and my worth. When I use porn that features cuckolding I am threatening my masculinity. I am depicting myself as worthless and in that, I find my unbreakableness. I also find it crucial that the woman is making a choice for herself. Something I've done intentionally is choose porn that features consent. I read about the negative effects of porn and decided to hold a standard for the porn I used early in my porn use.
I've come across Hentai at a young age. I decided a long time later, perhaps in college or shortly after college that I should use Hentai because it does not run the risk of having unwilling or coerced women in it. I have used live action porn before, though. I am likely to continue using it, as well. I tell myself to use things on the front page of Porn Hub because the women there are more likely to be in support of their work being used at the time.
The realization that it is about feeling unbreakable that puts me over the edge has allowed me to appreciate my sexuality more. I have always inserted myself as the "Bull" in cuckold porn which is the man who is doing the penetrative sex. I thought that I needed to prove something to myself. But now I know that I am simply, all of the depicted characters. The cuckold represents the part of me that is too distracted to have sex. So it has to be a negative statement about my masculinity in order to keep my attention. The woman represents my decision to have sex. When she is the mother or wife or both of the antagonist and say, his father, she is making a decision that society says is wrong. This makes it more exciting because it emphasizes her consent. The bull represents just doing it. When I've had sex I remember thinking, to the slight laughter of myself right now, "This is me having sex". It could seem that with depictions of sex by most porn, nobody gets distracted or has other thoughts. Sex isn't a conversation. Perhaps there is more I could discover about what the bull represents. Maybe I am not currently ready to describe it.
Ever since I came to conclude those things I've been able to reach orgasm much easier and with enough control that I strive to one day countdown my own orgasm, out loud. I was masturbating several times in a day. I would bring myself to orgasm 3-4 times a day and unlike before, I did not feel pain on my penis. I wasn't gripping my penis so tight that it would cause damage. My mind and simple strokes were enough. Knowledge made the difference.
I've also been able to use my memory of my ex-girlfriend to masturbate. I would be a more mature and prepared person but she would remain the same as she was. It was important for me to imagine a consistent personality that had recognizable responses. Having a memory of someone I've had an ongoing sexual relationship with served as inspiration. With that said, myself being more mature meant that I could convince her to roleplay with me because I now have more wisdom to respectfully ask, making it possible that I could respect myself as she, in my imagination, would comply.
The relationship we have with ourselves is important. What am I suggesting when I ask myself is Brooke Baldwin and Killer Mike having sex? What statement is that? Is it the creaturehood when it comes to Black people? Is it the simple fact that I COULD think that I think it? Perhaps it is similar to how I think to call someone ugly as though they do not deserve empathy for not looking a certain way. It's simple racism. But if the mind is all love, what of this? Maybe by having more interracial people, it would be easier for people to empathize with people that look different.
But that's not necessary. What is necessary are depictions of all races in media. It is how we recreate a cultural phenomenon that our ancestors used to promote peace and well being. It is familiarization with humanity by media.
Update: With regards to the portion about the woman who is a mother and wife being consensual as a turn on for me, there is also, by recent discovery, that having sex as the one being penetrated is an action in and of itself which is also a turn on for me.
Synopsys: The name of the series is super random, don't mind me. Reader is a postgraduate student at NYU, made a docuseries on her research, and the show got picked up by Netflix. She goes on a press tour and meets Tom on a ‘chat show’. They get together and she decides to stay for a few days in London with him. This could be an amazing few days or more? It’s been interesting writing how they’ll deal with distance and tight schedules once ‘honeymoon’ is over...
Heads up: my first language is Portuguese, so that might explain some things here - of course, I wrote thinking about myself hahaha
Warnings for the series: mention of illicit drugs, angst caused by distance, smut (next chapters, very explicit), anxiety caused by paparazzi, and rude random people taking photos.
Other than that, this is just my guilty pleasure writing so lots of caring sweet Tom and fluffiness.
Chapter 1 - A new city
Chapter 2 - Show time
Chapter 3 - Unexpected texts
Chapter 4 - A new day
No extra warnings. A lot of it was adapted from the real interview, so you might wanna watch it again before reading this, for refreshing. The docu-series doesn't have a name, so you can imagine your own favorite subject.
HEY THERE EVERYBODY! MY NAME IS TOM HANKS AND IT IS MY GREAT PLEASURE TO SAY WELCOME TO THE GRAHAM NORTON SHOW!
You walked down the corridor led by the stage assistant, but you could already hear the cheering and claps close by. “Don’t worry. There’s a monologue and then he’ll introduce you guys.” She smiled at you. You smiled back. Nervous smile.
“I think I need to poo.” You said.
“What?” She stopped and looked at you.
“No. I don’t really need to poo. I’m just really nervous.” You said. She definitely thought you were in way over your head.
“Okay, just wait there and you’ll go on stage when he calls your name. Frank is there to signal, don’t worry. Good luck!” She said and turned back running.
“Ok. Thank you!” You shouted after her but she was already gone.
“Shhh!” The other guy with a headpiece, Frank you assumed, shushed you.
“Sorry.” You whispered. You looked to the side and Jake Gyllenhaal and Tom Holland were talking. Jake was taller than you imagined. Tom was shorter.
“Oh don’t worry. You’re the star here, you can do whatever you want to.” An older voice said to you. He was obviously joking. You looked to see Tom Hanks. You smiled and nodded. God, please don’t let me freeze from starstruck now. Please.
“Ehh…” You’re pathetic.
“Hi!” Said Gwyneth Paltrow to everyone in the dark zone, having just arrived after you. Everyone responded excitedly.
“You guys are on. On my mark.” Said Frank pointing to Tom and Jake. They looked at you and said hello but you could barely answer before hearing Graham Norton’s voice going:
HES THE OSCAR NOMINATED STAR OF BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, NIGHTCRAWLER, AND DONNIE DARKO. PLEASE WELCOME JAKE GYLLENHAAL!
And Jake went up the small flight of stairs. The curtains opened for a while and the sound got really loud and everything went bright. You took a look at Tom Holland and boy was he hot. He was looking at you too. You smiled and he smiled back.
HE’S YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD SPIDER-MAN. IT'S MISTER TOM HOLLAND!
“See you out there.” He said and walked out. You barely had time to process anything when Frank pointed at you and said: “You’re next”. You were still trying to remember how to walk when you heard:
SHE’S THE PRODUCER AND STAR OF A BRAND NEW NETFLIX DOCU-SERIES. STRAIGHT FROM NEW YORK: MISS (Y/N)!
Up you go. You walked out and Graham Norton went to greet you. He went for a kiss on the cheek and you went for a hug. Great. Off to a good start. He laughed it off and showed you the couch where Tom and Jake were standing in front and clapping. You went for a kiss on the cheek this time with both of them when you greeted them.
“Hi!” You said casually. Graham was speaking and soon Gwyneth was standing by your side. She greeted you and the actors by your side and then there was only Tom Hanks left. His introduction was longer and the cheering was way louder. But you weren’t surprised by that. This place was massive. There are so many people here. Way more than you’d think by watching from home.
“We met backstage.” Tom Hanks said pointing to the other guests on the couch.
“You all chatted backstage. I went backstage, I didn’t see the two of you. Nor you (y/n). Where were you guys?” Graham asked.
“We were there” Jake said.
“We waived” Tom said.
“Yeah, I- I was late.” You said laughing a little.
“Very suspicious. I bet you were having your own private party with your entourage.” Graham said making everyone laugh.
“Welcome all! Welcome all!” Graham went on to start the round of interviews and apparently, Tom Hanks was the first topic. You just smiled and laughed along, copying the way Gwyneth Paltrow was sitting and concentrating to keep your posture straight. Once in a while you would laugh and moment by moment you were getting more relaxed, even touching thighs with Tom accidentally when you laughed.
“I started recording Woody in 1991.” Tom Hanks said.
“Guess who wasn’t born then?” Graham said and both you and Tom raised our arms laughing.
“I was having sex I think, by 1991.” Gwyneth said.
“And so were our parents.” Said Tom gesturing between you and him. Everybody laughed.
“He probably meant his mom and his dad and my mom and my dad. Separately.” And everyone laughed even harder.
“Ok. We painted a picture now.” Graham said.
“You never know, it was a crazy time back then in 91” Jake added making everyone bust out laughing.
“Now, our newest guest tonight is the beautiful (y/n). This is your first time in the show!” Graham said looking at you. Oh boy. This is it.
“Yeah! This is crazy. Thank you for having me! And my first time in London!” You answered, blushing a little by the claps and cheering from the audience.
“Now, of course, (y/n) you’re the star and the producer of a documentary. The new Netflix series everybody is talking about. Have you guys seen it?” He asked the other guests.
“Absolutely! It's so good! I loved it!” Tom Hanks said. You stared at him like he just said the most absurd thing, and then Gwyneth said:
“We loved it! It's so different from everything we’ve seen out there.” She complimented you. You put your hands together and bowed your head in gratitude.
“I started watching it today when I knew you were coming here, but everybody is talking about it! It's so good! I wanted to binge-watch everything but then we had to come here.” Jake said.
“Own! Thank you, that’s very sweet.” You said.
“What about you Tom Holland? Have you seen it? Or have you guys met before? Because you have the same age, isn’t that right?” Graham asked him, pointing between the two of you.
“I was the one who told Jake to watch it! I must have seen it twice already!” He said laughing.
“What? Twice?” You laughed.
“Yeah because every time someone’s watching it if I’m passing by, I’ll just sit down and watch along. And all my friends decided to watch it now, it’s like some fever, I don’t know, it’s just really fun and you actually feel smarter binging it!” He said making everybody laugh along.
“But did you guys knew each other already? Because you sure sound like a fan!” Graham teased him. Tom shook his head no and you answered first.
“No…well, I know you. I definitely know all of you. But we’ve never met.” You said vaguely, trying to change the focus from you and Tom. But Graham was on a mission.
“Are you sure? Because the two of you weren’t seen early on backstage so I’m just wondering…” He said cheekily.
“I was late today! It was quite not British of me, I know, but we were very late so I didn’t get the chance to say hello before. Sorry, everyone” You said apologizing to everybody on the couch who waived and laughed politely.
“That’s quite alright. Thankfully you’re not British so we won’t punish you. Well, maybe we’ll leave that to Tom later if you’re into that sort of thing” Graham said making you and Tom very much embarrassed.
“These 90’s kids are crazy man” Jake added making everybody laugh.
“Anyway, we have a clip for you guys.” Graham announced.
[CLIP FROM THE SERIES]
“That’s so great! By the way, I introduced you saying ‘from new york’, because the show was taped there, but you’re not really from NY are you? You’re actually…uh… from (your city/country)! Is that right?” Graham asked you and the rest of the cast looked at you interested.
“Yes! That’s right. But I’ve been living in New York for a good while now so, that’s ok.” You answered.
“You’re getting your PhD, isn’t it?” Tom Hanks asked you.
“Yes, the show was part of my research, actually. I’m surprised you know that.” You said.
“Dude, I told you to pick up a book once in a while. Jake said teasingly to Tom, who just laughed and shook his head looking down.
“You guys are making this so much easier to me. Thanks!” He said sarcastically. Now it was your turn to get embarrassed.
“He’s right though, you might wanna step up your game here cause she’s both smart and beautiful. Do you speak…how many is it? 5 languages?” Graham stepped in.
“Well, I mean…sort of, yeah. I guess.” You answered kind of embarrassed for being in the spotlight, but glad it was about your brains and not looks.
“And the show is so good! I’ve seen a critic saying that is (your reference) meet Humans of NY. In a good way! Where the idea came from? Did you always wanted to film a tv show?” Graham asked you.
“Well, first of all. Thank you for the compliments and I’m truly honored by the comparison to (your reference) and Humans of NY, because I truly watch and admire those projects, so they’ve definitely inspired us. But uh…about filming a TV show, I guess not. I’m researching (your subject of preference). But I’ve always loved to, you know, get in there and get ‘my hands dirty’, I wouldn’t want to write about something I haven’t experienced. So I got to know so many incredible stories and amazing people. I followed their routines and there were so many great plots…I just couldn’t let that go. And I’m really glad I didn’t. It’s like we’re highlighting the extraordinary in the ordinary. I’m really glad people liked it as much as I did because it would have been really heartbreaking if nobody cared, I guess.” You laughed. Everyone was staring at you in awe. You got really excited when you were talking about this project. Maybe a little too excited.
“How did you do that by the way?” Gwyneth asked you.
“Did what?” you said.
“Get them to care about it. To give it a shot.” She explained.
“I’m not sure. I think there’s so much noise out there. And everyone is just competing for our attention, but they don’t always have anything to say. And these people have so much to say. To teach us. I just tried to show that.” You answered honestly.
“Well, thank you for that. And not jinx anything, but I have a feeling we’ll be hearing a lot more about you too. Any new projects coming soon?” He asked you.
“Uh…not really. I’m just living in this high for now, I guess. But it really has already opened so many doors, I’m very grateful for that.” You answered honestly.
“And your boyfriend must be really proud too" Graham asked teasingly.
“No, no boyfriend.” You answered suspiciously.
“Ah! Of course.” He winked nothing discreetly in Tom’s direction.
“So there’s a chance Tom! You might want to pay attention to this next one. Gwyneth Paltrow! What is this I hear about vagina steaming?” Graham continued making everyone bust out laughing.
The show went on and soon, the topic was Tom again. “I was making a film with Doug Liman, in Montreal. And I was playing a real tough kid and he asked me to grow as much facial hair as I could.” Tom told everybody. You just looked very closely at him, because his face was very much hairless.
“I think we got a picture.” Graham said. And then everybody was laughing out loud.
“(y/n)? Is your heart won yet?” Graham teased. You just laughed.
“Oh come on! The kid’s got better moments! You got to give him a chance!” He teased some more.
“Oh man! What is going on with this show? I swear I did not put him up to this!” Tom said looking at you and you just laughed awkwardly.
“It’s true! I did!” Jake said laughing and then got up to high five Graham.
“You know, if this wasn’t going so badly I’d ask if my mom put you up to this. Cause she’s the only other person I know who’s so focused on getting me matched.” You teased.
“You think its going badly?” Tom asked and the crowd “aww” loudly. Silence and some laughs.
“Right, moving on.” Graham joked and everybody laughed. You were feeling a little awkward, especially because you did not want him to think you weren’t interested, just not while in a tv show. But you can’t get things mixed up. This stuff is new to you, but you’re not some schoolgirl. Focus on the job. Stormzy was singing now, so the show must be almost over.
“Oh this is wicked! I was really happy when I saw you’d be here!” Stormzy said when he sat on the couch.
“Me? Wow! Really?” you asked him, surprised.
“Oh-oh looks like you got competition Tom Holland” Graham joked and Tom just laughed and shook his head.
“Well cause your show is just really cool” He said to me.
“Wow! Thank you for saying that!” You couldn’t believe this, someone from all across the world liked something you did. You’re going to get emotional.
“You know that we live really close to each other?” Tom asked him.
“Is it? Where do you live?” Stormzy answered and the conversation went on.
AND THAT’S IT FOR THE SERIES! IF YOU’D JOIN ME NEXT WEEK FOR A LOOK BACK AT SOME OF THE HIGHLIGHTS OF THE PAST 12 WEEKS. WE’LL BE BACK IN THE AUTUMN, TILL THEN HAVE A GREAT SUMMER! GOOD NIGHT EVERYBODY BYE BYE!
This was becoming routine now, but there’s no other way to describe it other than to say that you loved and hated every minute of it. Well, at least it’s done now. The lights went out and when everybody stopped clapping and cheering the producer approached you guys and said you were taking a picture. Graham went for the back of the couch and everyone snuggled a little closer. Tom put his hand on your thigh and you instinctively looked at it. “Sorry.” He mumbled and took it off. You just smiled and shook your head lightly. After some pictures, you made sure to thank everybody and say how much of a fan of them you are. When it was your turn to talk to Tom he said laughing: “Sorry about that whole thing” You could tell he was uncomfortable.
“No, common! He was playing with us. Well, you more.” You dismissed.
“Yeah! It was fun though. Had a great time, it was great to meet you!” He said politely.
“You too. Love your movies! Can’t wait to see the new one.” You offered and heard someone calling your name.
“Right this way Miss.” The stage assistant called.
“Ok, so…bye! Good luck on growing your facial hair!” What. You. Idiot. He just laughed it off. And touched his chin.
“Right. I’ll try my best. Thank you! Good luck with (your research subject)” He said back.
“Alright, thanks” You had to go, the stage assistant was getting impatient. “Bye Tom.” You offered your hand and he hesitated a bit before taking it and shake.
“Bye (y/n).” He said.
David was already waiting for you down the small flight of stairs. “That was really great! Congratulations!” He hugged you.
“That…wasn’t bad, right?” You said. “I actually had fun.” You completed while you two made your way to the little room where you did your makeup and hair earlier.
If you still do the WIPs ask– please allow a peek on Would you be so kind to fall in love with me? 👀
Hi, Noe! I’m still taking this (and I’m glad to have the opportunity to gush about this particular WIP!).
Would you be so kind to fall in love with me? is the working title (but I’ll probably keep it despite being too long lol) for this new Desire and Decorum AU (absolute no self control, I know) set in 2010′s, and in which a twelve-year old Elizabeth meets a thirteen-year old Hamid, and they eventually become friends and we’ll follow their stories for the next few years. It was supposed to be a one-shot inspired by one of your asks (you know the one and I know it’s been 84 years but I’m a slow writer and my muse is mean to me! sorry!) and it got a liiiiiiittle bit longer and it’s now a miniseries... in which we will read the story from each of their POVs.
So, here is a snippet:
“Magnificent,” a male accented voice resounds. “Absolutely magnificent!”
Startled by the unexpected company, Elizabeth closed the book on her lap and tried to reach for the sneakers before someone spotted her, but only reached one of them, since the other landed too far away and was lying upside-down at plain view.
Her father’s voice, grave but gentle, followed the other’s. Proud words about the library increasingly closer to her hiding spot.
Glancing from behind the settee, she spied the Turkish ambassador. Dressed in a striped dark grey suit, the man is as tall as her father; warm brown skin and a soft expression, and his dark brown hair peppered by a few white strands that glowed under the sunlight was perfectly combed back. Hands behind his back, he moved elegantly beside her father.
Their voices fade as the men turn around to face the windows, and Elizabeth takes the opportunity to crawl and try to retrieve the lost shoe. Only then she notices the teenager boy wandering around. Dressed in a suit, he is about her age or maybe a little bit older, definitely shorter than Edmund, and no more than five centimetres taller than herself.
The ambassador’s son.
Like a younger copy of the man, he has the same warm brown skin, but in a darker tone, and raven black hair combed back.
Why isn’t he with Harry and his sisters?
His curious eyes wide open and bright with amazement inspect the collection with undivided attention, until he stops in front of a bookshelf. The boy’s curious gaze lowers to the item his shiny shoe kicked on the floor and finds the lost sneaker. Next, his eyes flick to Elizabeth on her hands and knees.
Thanks for the ask and I hope you enjoy this sneak peek from the first chapter. 😊
A/N: These last few chapters are going to shift back and forth between Dean and Rebecca’s POV. I will separate each with the usual heart line break, just to try to keep it spaced out.
A/N2: The case Dean refers to is in a real town near where I live, the sheriff is an actual person who held this position for years. Also, I might have put myself into this….because it’s my story. LOL
Spring 2004 Dean’s POV
After leaving Bobby’s Dad and I go back to staying in the most run-down motels in the towns our cases lead us to.
Dad had promptly shut down any inquiries on what had transpired between him and the older man so I turned my attention to the cases we came across.
It’s been a year since Sammy walked out of that motel room to go to Stanford and I miss the kid. Well, I guess he isn’t a kid anymore. He’s 18 years old-almost 19- and had shot up in height at about 16, a good three inches taller than both me and Dad.
Now it is just me and Dad traveling the country, going where the weird stories lead us. Weird stories and witness accounts usually equal supernatural causes so Dad has me keep an eye out for those in the newspapers and tabloids.
It is boring and mundane work that always ends up being beneficial to the people we save. Dad keeps a journal with all the monsters we take down and how we take them down. I don’t know who is planning to show it to because we sure as hell can’t publish it. People would think we are crazy!
This latest hunt is a ghoul deep in a mine near Pineville, WV. I came here expecting a town full of pines but honestly in the three days we’ve been here, I’ve only seen a handful. Dad’s gone to talk to Sheriff Randall Aliff to find out about the five missing persons reports that have been filed and I’m in search of a good place to eat.
Walking down the street, I notice the traffic is thick right in the middle of the city but once I get past the city limits, it almost dwindles down to nothing. A few cars pass and a couple of dump trucks but other than that, it’s pretty quiet. No wonder people going missing is such a big deal here.
I finally see a sign that says Ole Jose Grill and Cantina, two of my favorites; grilled food and beer! Turning around to go back and get Dad and the Impala, because let’s face it I’m pretty far outside town, I accidentally bump into a woman.
“Oh excuse me Ma’am,” I apologize as I reach out to assist her regaining her balance. “I didn’t see you.”
“That’s okay,” she says as she smiles up at me and readjusts the strap of her bag. “You looked pretty out of it. Not many people walk this way. Is everything alright?”
I smile and can’t hold back the chuckle as she realizes she just spouted off a litany of questions.
“God! Get it together Melonie,” she says, mostly to herself.
“Melonie? Is that your name?”
“Yea, and now you probably think I’m crazy because I talk to myself.”
“No, not at all. I’m Dean,” I say as I reach my hand out. “I’m in town for a few days and was just out sightseeing.”
“I don’t know what you expect to see here,” she tells me. “There’s nothing but a river and mountains. Now if you head an hour east of here there’s a gorge that is just breathtaking. It’s called Grandview and it is definitely a grand view! They also have walking trails and picnic areas and playgrounds for the kids-” she pauses as she sees me smiling at her. “I did it again. I have to shut up. I’m shutting up now.”
“I think it’s cute,” I tell her, watching as the blush covers her cheeks as she looks down toward the ground. The blush gets deeper and I take a chance to get a good look at her. She's quite a bit shorter than me, by a foot at least. Her brown hair has hues of copper and blonde highlights throughout. She reaches up and pushes her glasses back up her nose because when she bowed her head, they slid down.
"So you said you're in town for a few days?" she asks, changing the subject. "What brings you to our neck of the woods?"
"The missing person reports," I tell her. "My partner and I were dispatched to see if we could help."
"Oh, so you're police officers? Where's your uniform?" she inquires and I think she is flirting with me but I can't tell because she refuses to look me in the eye.
"FBI," I lie. "My da-deputy-in-charge is speaking to the Sheriff now and finding food is my assignment. You wouldn't happen to know if that place-" I point to the cantinas and grill. "-is any good?"
"Oh sure. Sure! Best food in town unless you want to travel to Beckley where there are more choices. But I'll tell you now, if you want a good burger, like melt-in-your-mouth burger, about a half-mile up the road is a place called Pinnacle Drive-In. That food is to die for!"
"Okay. Thanks Melonie. It was nice running into you, literally."
"See ya around Dean," she responds with a smile and I step to the right to let her pass by.
Heading back toward city hall, I think about what she said about burgers that melt in your mouth and decide to check the place out as soon as I meet up with Dad.
Fairfax, IN Winter 2003 Rebecca's POV
Sam comes by first thing and picks Whitney and I up before heading to our "Whitney's Wonderful Weekend", which was named by the bubbly and sprite 7 year old in the backseat of Sam's Silverado.
She is just too smart for her own good, coming up with a name like that at such a young age!
After stopping by the diner for breakfast, we load back up and head to the mall, where Santa's Workshop is set up. Whitney is fidgeting in her seat and repeatingly asking if we are there yet. It's annoying but Sam doesn't seem to let it get to him; just continues to answer her each time.
As we park, Whitney can hardly contain her excitement and when I open the door to get her out, she is already unbuckled and practically jumps into my arms.
"Mommy! I get to meet Sanna!" she exclaims piercingly loud. "I'm gonna tell him what I want for Chwismas."
"I know peach, I know. Maybe, not so loud though?"
Watching my little girl, who less than a month ago was so sick and so lethargic, excitedly listen to the elves in charge as the children wait to see Santa brings a smile on my face.
"I can't thank you enough for this," I tell Sam, who is standing beside me observing the kids.
"It's my pleasure. Actually I should be thanking you for allowing me to be seen with two of the prettiest people here."
I can't help but blush at the compliment, knowing that that was all it was. Sam had promised no more than a friendship so I knew it wasn't a line or a come on.
"Ya know, he had a brother. Her dad," I disclose when I see Sam's confusion. "His name was Sam too. She has an Uncle Sam," I conclude with a chuckle.
Why I had even brought it up was beyond me. A few days ago, I'd dreamt of that day in October 8 years ago.
How Sam and Dean had been so nice and welcoming to me and even after I'd given Sam money for the arcade and sent him away, Dean had still acted respectful and polite.
In all these years, I'd somehow finally came to the realization that I didn't hate him as much as I first thought. Yes, he took something from me I can never get back, but in doing so he gave me a gift that I would never be thankful enough for.
He gave me something-someone-to cherish unconditionally and absolutely. He gave me love.
Other Characters: Many... (Everyone from Shining Agency + Kurusu Family)
Word Count: 2500+
TW: It’s a positive rollercoaster! (Fluff)
Tag List/Special Wedding Guests: @of-comfort-and-love @minty-fresh-kicks @stars-sunglasses-and-sodapop
Info: So, today is finally our wedding day and I kinda went over board with this story, hehe... [blushes] It’s written like little vlogs (though I call them “diary entries”) from getting ready to the reception speech!
[ok to rb/p.ros.hippers dni]
April 8, 2021 at 8:00 AM
[The recording starts]
„Okay, we‘re filming!“, says Nanami with a big smile on her face. „Welcome to the first video ’diary’ entry of Syo‘s and Jules‘ wedding day! The happy bride is over here-“
[The camera swings over to Jules and Tomo]
„-getting ready for her big day! Say hello, girls!“ Jules smiles shyly at the camera and waves. „Hello…“, she says. „Hello, hello~!“, answers Tomochika and winks at the camera. She is currently doing the young brunette‘s hair. „Are you excited, Ju-chan?“, asks Nanami. Jules nods slightly to not disturb Tomo during her work on her. „I am! Nervous but very excited, hehe…“ Oh and how nervous she is. Jules is scared of messing up and it being on camera forever but at the same time she can’t wait to be married to the man of her dreams. „Just think of Syo and it‘ll be fine!“, throws Tomo in. The blue-eyed bride blushes hard, while the two redheads laugh warmly.
[The camera zooms in a little more on Jules]
Then the young composer speaks up again. „So, Jules. What’s on the schedule?“ The girl in question giggles. „Well, right now: getting ready. The wedding ceremony is at 10AM, after that the reception at 12PM and lastly the wedding party.“ Nanami nods behind the camera. „Syo‘s dad should be here soon with the dress.“, adds Jules. This time it’s Tomochika who speaks. „Your dress is so beautiful. I‘ve only seen pictures so far but it’s gorgeous.“ Jules smiles. „Yeah, it really is. Makes me wonder if I really deserve to wear such an amazing dress.“ „Oh, hush! It was custom made, by your father-in-law, for you. Of course you deserve to wear it. You’ll look like a real princess in it! Syo won’t manage to take his eyes off of you.“, exclaims Tomo with confidence. The brunette blushes again. „Thanks, girls…“ There is a light knock.
[The camera view gets lowered to the floor]
„Oh, room service! It‘d be good if you could eat something to ease your nerves.“
[The camera focuses on the two girls again]
Jules chuckles lightheartedly. „Yeah, I‘ll try. Even though I’m not hungry.” She takes a look at her phone on the table. “Hm, I wonder how Syo is doing. We spent the night apart. I hope he’s alright…” Another knock. This time it’s Syo‘s dad with the special dress in tow. „Good morning, ladies.“ „Good morning, sir!“ The middle-aged man turns to Jules. “How are you doing today, Jules?” The brunette smiles. “I’m doing well, thank you! Nervous but well.” “Heh, yeah, that’s completely normal, dear!”, answers her soon-father-in-law with a chuckle.
[The camera zooms out]
„Okay, I think we should let the bride get ready in peace now.“ It‘s Nanami‘s voice. Tomo nods at that. „Yeah, we can take pics of the finished look after. Right, Jules?“ „Yes, totally.“, Jules answers with a smile. „Alright, this is it for the first video entry! Bye!“ The three people in view smile and wave at the camera.
[The recording ends]
April 8, 2021 at 8:30 AM
[The recording starts]
„HELLO!!! My best friend is getting married today!, screams Natsuki behind the camera. The other STARISH guys flinch at the shrill tone. „Was it a good idea to let Natsuki film for now?“, asks Otoya jokingly. „Ah, it’ll be fine!“, answers Cecil. Tokiya turns to the device. „Welcome to this first video from us, the guys‘ side.“ Everybody, except Natsuki, waves at the camera with big smiles on their faces. „Hello!“ Ren goes over to Syo, who leans against a window, and pats his shoulder. „This little man is the lucky groom today! He is excited to see his bride~!“ Syo blushes but tries to hide it with a frown. „H-hey! Don’t call me short!“
[The camera view gets very shaky]
„Aww, Syo-chan! I‘m so happy for you!!“ „Natsuki! Be careful with the camera-“
[The view is blurry before doing dark]
„Ugh. Natsuki. Can‘t...breathe...“ It‘s definitely Syo‘s voice. „Oh! Sorry!!“ There is laughter now. „Oh, the camera…“ „Don’t worry, Ittoki. I got it.“
[The camera gets picked up]
„Hello, this is Hijirikawa Masato.“, says the voice behind the device. „Welcome again to this little video entry of this special day. We‘re currently in the suite and getting ready.“
[The camera zooms to Syo]
„Kurusu, how are you feeling?“, asks Masato. The blonde smiles fondly. „Amazing! I just can’t wait to see Jules. I’m sure she looks gorgeous. I wish it‘s 10AM already, haha!“ Syo turns around and plays a little with his white suit sleeve, while looking out of the window. Cecil speaks up next. „Could it be that you‘re nervous?“ Syo takes a deep breath. „No! I mean, yeah, maybe a little. I‘m so confident and yet, today, I‘m even more nervous than during important auditions. Well, more like happy, excited, nervous, just so many emotions at once.” Syo turns to his friends again. “Is that normal?” Tokiya smiles at him. “Of course. You’re getting married today, it’s normal to feel like this.” The others nod at Tokiya’s answer.
[The camera zooms out to show the group]
“That’s why you should eat something, Syo-chan!”, exclaims Natsuki and points at the food that they ordered from room service. The young groom sits down at the table. “I’m not really hungry actually…” Otoya lays one of the sandwiches on a plate and puts it in front of Syo. “Believe us, you’re going to need every little bit of strength today.” The blonde idol smiles, nods, and starts nibbling on the sandwich. Then he moves to take his phone. “Maybe I should ask Jules if she’s doing okay…” Ren laughs and takes Syo’s phone. “Nice try, Ochibi-chan, but you guys agreed to not contact and see each other before she‘s walking down the aisle to you!” Syo blushes. “Y-yeah, I know! It’s just...weird without the usual good morning texts and all...”, he mumbles. The others let out a laugh. “These two really can’t live without each other.”, says Cecil. “It’s so adorable!!”, squeals Natsuki. The shorter blonde’s blush deepens. “H-hey now! Stop teasing, guys!” Ren puts his arm around Syo’s shoulders. “Seriously though, we’re so happy for you both. Jules and you are the definition of soulmates and we all are beyond excited to celebrate this important day with you.” Syo bashfully runs his fingers through his hair but has a big smile on his face. “Thank you, guys! I can’t imagine not having you all here with us.” All of them smile warmly. Otoya chuckles. “Man, I’m hungry.” Masato nods behind the camera. “Yeah, let’s eat before it’s time for the ceremony.” Syo waves at the camera. “Thanks for joining us. See ya later!” “See ya!”
[The recording stops]
April 8, 2021 at 9:50 AM
[The recording starts]
“Hello, again to another video ‘diary’ entry! It’s Nanami!, says the energetic voice behind the camera. “This is the location of the ceremony!”
[The camera view goes around the venue]
There is a lot of green, it’s an outdoor wedding, a white path, and cherry blossoms all around, completing the spring wedding theme with their beauty. In the first row of the white chairs, on the other side of Nanami, sits Quartet Night.
[The camera zooms in a little more]
The four men wave at the camera with Reiji being the most enthusiastic about it. Shining is only one row behind them and looks like he’s about to cry from happiness. Beside him are Ryuya, who’s facepalming at Shining’s behavior, and Ringo who just laughs and says something to his teaching partner.
[The view swings over to the front]
There is Syo speaking with Kaoru, his Best Man. The rest of STARISH are nearby, as well.
[The camera gets closer to the blonde twins]
“Hey, Syo-kun! Are you ready for the big moment?”, asks Nanami. Syo nods. “Yeah! I got the message that she’s here! The ceremony should start pretty soon.” Syo smiles a little. “Hey, Nanami? How does Jules look in her dress?” The redhead chuckles. “I’m sorry, Syo-kun. It’s a secret.” “Not even a little hint?” “Nope!” Kaoru lets out a laugh. “Give it up, Nii-san. Besides, you’re going to see her soon!” Syo plays with his suit’s sleeve. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” Suddenly, Natsuki runs over to them. “Message from Jules! She’s on her way! 2 minutes!” The group nods. Everybody is taking their seats or positions. Syo takes a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this!”, he says. „You got this, Syo-kun!“, answers Nanami.
[The view gets really shaky for a moment]
„Alright! The ceremony is about to start.“
[The recording ends]
April 8, 2021 at 10:00 AM
[The recording starts]
Shortly after the camera turns on does music start playing, signaling the arrival of the bride. It’s a very familiar song to everyone. The instrumental version of “Hatsukoi wo Mata Hajimeyou”, requested by Jules and self-proclaimed „couple song“ by the wedding pair. And there she comes. The bride in her wedding gown getting walked down the little path by her father-in-law. The dress is a kimono-inspired blush pink dress with sakura embroidery. Absolutely beautiful. Syo’s eyes start to shine as he sees Jules. His smile is bigger than anyone has ever seen. The brunette’s smile is just as bright. Both of them have tears in their eyes, which could fall any second. The young idol meets his bride and dad halfway down the path. He gives Jules a quick peck on the cheek and turns to his dad to thank him. They exchange a few words and a pat on the shoulder before his dad “gives” Jules over to him. Syo holds out his hand to her. “Shall we, my gorgeous princess?” The blue-eyed girl blushes but takes it without hesitation. „Absolutely, my handsome prince.” Now it is Syo who blushes. Both of them walk together, hand in hand, to the front where the officiant awaits.
[A little while later]
“Now it’s time for the wedding vows.”, the officiant announces. Jules, nervously, goes first.
“My Prince.”, she starts. “There is so much to say and believe me when I say that I wrote down 10 pages full of stuff I wanted to say but I keep it short. I love you. And with every single day that passes, I do more. You are the light in my life that keeps me going, even through the darkest moments. I can always count on you to make me laugh, since literally the moment we’ve met all these years ago. The day you confessed to me feels like it was just yesterday because time with you is flying by so fast. You make me so happy. This may be cliche but you are my best friend who understands me fully and where I don’t have to hide who I am. I know we can manage anything that life throws at us. I can’t wait to explore our life together beside you as your wife! I promise to always love and honor you till the day I die. I love you so much, Syo...”
Syo‘s eyes water again and he leans forward to kiss Jules‘ forehead. „I love you too.“ He squeezes her hands before starting his own vow.
„Jules. My princess. Let me start this off by saying that you’re the best thing that life has ever given me. I don’t know what I did to deserve someone as sweet and supportive as you. You’re definitely thinking now that you’re not worthy to be thought of like that but it’s true. You are everything to me. I will always protect you and remind you every day that you’re absolutely amazing. I love you with my whole being. The fact that you didn’t leave me due to my job but instead always encourage and support me through and through makes me so incredibly thankful to have you in my life. Our ‚Prince of Fighting’ marathons are also always so much fun. I treasure these moments deeply in my heart. I promise, no, I swear, as your prince, that I will always come back home to you, no matter how long we‘re apart and that I‘ll always love and adore you. I love you, princess.“
Tears are running down Jules’ cheeks, which Syo gently wipes away with his thumbs under her glasses. Then he turns his head away to wipe his own teary eyes. The wedding guests are very quiet, seemingly moved by the couple’s vows. After a short pause is it finally time. The officiant turns to Syo first.
“Do you, Syo Kurusu, take Jules Hawthorne to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love her, honor her, respect her, and be faithful to her, through anything life may bring, for as long as you both shall live?”
“I do!”, answers Syo confidently.
“Do you, Jules Hawthorne, take Syo Kurusu to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love him, honor him, respect him, and be faithful to him, through anything life may bring, for as long as you both shall live?”
“Yes, I do!”, answers Jules in her soft voice.
The officiant nods at the now married couple. “I hereby happily pronounce you husband and wife! You may now kiss your princess.” Syo turns to Jules with a look full of love. He softly cups her cheeks, asking for permission, which she gives through a slight nod. Then he leans in for a sweet kiss, sealing their promise for eternity. Applause is rising around them as they gently lean their foreheads against each other’s. The couple turn their heads and catch the camera’s view. They chuckle and wave, showing off their rings with excitement. Truly an adorable sight.
[The recording ends]
April 8, 2021 at 12:00 PM
[The recording starts]
“Good afternoon, it’s Tokiya this time. We’re at the reception and waiting for the happy couple to arrive.” A sudden voice interrupts. It’s Cecil. “Hey, when will Syo and Jules arrive?” “Pretty soon, I’m sure.”, answers Ren instead. “I can’t wait~!”, exclaims Natsuki. “Shhh! I think they’re coming!”, says Otoya excitedly. Shining steps forward with a microphone in his hand.
[The camera zooms in on Shining]
“Hello, everyone! I have the great honor today to introduce the newly married couple! Let’s welcome them with a round of applause! Here are Mr. and Mrs. Syo and Jules Kurusu!!!” A big thunder of applause erupts. The married couple comes in, hand in hand, and just as happy as at the ceremony. Syo takes the microphone and addresses the crowd.
“Good afternoon! Thank you so much for coming and celebrating this important milestone with us. It really means a lot! This is the plan for the afternoon and evening. After the reception my wife and I have our first dance.” Jules’ shyness kicks in, which her blush gives away. The blonde gives her an encouraging smile and puts an arm around her. The blue-eyed girl smiles back at her husband. Syo turns back to the guests. “And after that, the buffet and bar are open, so eat and drink to your heart’s content. There are some surprises planned during the wedding party, as well. We really hope you continue to have a lot of fun today! Again, thank you all for coming!” Everyone raises their glasses: