#it's like a mental crutch for him it's the one thing he's really passionate about and he's willing to risk his brutal life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cherryobx · 4 years

Text

Environmental stuff//JJ Maybank x reader

requested?: yes hon “have you ever done something like Kie meeting this cool person at an environmental thing on the mainland, and finding out she’s moving to klidare? and then maybe her and jj getting together? idk I just thought that would be cute. thank you for reading this Request! :)”

A/N: I don’t nreally like the way i wrote it but thank you so much for requesting!!!!

summary: Kiara meets you at an environmental event and finds out you’re moving to kildare. so she introduces you to her friends.

warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of an injury

WC: 1546

(not my gif, creds to the owner!)

“I like your poster.”

You were currently at this small environmental event and you had made a huge poster. You spent hours on it last night, wanting it to be perfect. So it felt really awarding when someone commented on it.

“Thank you,” you said, smiling at the teenage girl in front of you. Her messy hair was thrown into a bun and she had a light blue headband on her head.

She smiled back at you, showing her pearly white teeth.

“My name is Kiara, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.”

“I just had to come over to you and talk to you. You seemed to be here alone. And I’m alone here too today. So I thought I’d give you some company. I usually drag one of my friends here but none of them wanted to be here today so I decided to come by myself.”

“Yeah, I’m alone here. I’m actually here for the first time today. I’m currently moving to a small town near-by and my parents are still transporting some stuff there. I didn’t want to spend an entire day in a car or a boat, so I came here.”

“Oh, where are you moving, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Kildare.”

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Kildare? That’s where I’m from. Pretty cool that you’re moving there. Trust me you’re going to love it.”

So the entire day at the event was spent talking about the life of Kildare. Kiara told you about her friends and how all the people were divided into two groups there. The richer people, who lived in figure eight, were called the kooks and the working-class people, who were living in the cut, were called pogues. She also told you about her favourite hangout spots there.

Overall, you had a great time with her that day. She was fun to be around. Your humor was pretty much the same so you made dumb jokes a lot and laughed at them. Not to mention that she was absolutely gorgeous. Even her laugh was adorable.

“Are you coming to Kildare today?” she asked when the even was about to end.

“I think so. I hope my parents are done transporting everything and are at the house. Let me call them real quick.”

You took out your phone and dialed your dad’s number. When he answered, you asked if the house was ready and if all the stuff was already there. Getting a positive answer, you hung up.

“So?”

“Yeah, I’m going there today.”

She clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh my God, that’s great! Do you want to come to a kegger that my friends are throwing tonight?”

“I haven’t even spent a day in Kildare and you’re already inviting me to a party? Hell yeah, I’m coming.”

So you both arrived in Kildare almost at 10 p.m and you went to Kiara’s place to get ready. You knew it wasn’t the smartest to go to a stranger’s house but you didn’t really care. You felt like you had known her for years.

You even met her parents and they were literally the nicest people you had ever met.

Kiara lent you some of her clothes since your stuff was still unpacked in boxes at your new house.

And then you went over to the place the party was held at.

There were a lot of teens at that party for a small town. And you were acting a bit anxious. Being around a lot of teenagers always felt weird for you. You didn’t really know why. Maybe it was just because you started to feel a bit anxious and insecure. Everyone just seemed so much better than you. In every way.

“Come on!” Kiara grabbed your hand and pulled you through all the people to a small group of people, red cups in their hands.

“Guys, this is Y/N. I met her today at the event I went to. She’s really cool, trust me.”

In front of you, there were 3 boys and a girl. You gave them a small wave with your hand to greet them.

“Nice to meet you Y/N. I’m John B and these are JJ, Pope, and Sarah,” one of the guys introduced himself and the people standing next to him.

The girl with dirty blonde hair, who was supposedly called Sarah came closer to, wanting to start a conversation. “Are you new here? I haven’t seen you around.”

“Yeah, I just moved here.”

“Oh, you did? That’s so cool. Maybe we can hang out sometime?”

“I’d love that,” you smiled.

“Go get her a drink, you dumbass!” one of the guys whisper-yelled to the other one.

“No fucking way.”

“Come on, JJ.”

“Fine,” he sighed, giving up and rolling his eyes at the other dude. He took a clean cup and poured some beer into it. Then he came over to you and handed you the cup.

You weren’t really a fan of beer but you were polite so you took it. “Thank you!”

As the night went on, the blonde boy, who brought you a drink earlier, started talking with you more and more and when it was almost 2 a.m, you and he were basically the only ones left outside.

He told you about himself and you told him about yourself. Occasional jokes were thrown into the conversation and you actually really enjoyed talking to him. JJ was the kind of person you’d want to pour your heart out to.

And that’s exactly what you did. The night ended with you half-drunkenly crying in his arms, telling him how much you missed your friends from back home and how all of that moving and leaving everything behind made you feel.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be your friend. Everything will be fine.”

He kept his promise. You hung out every day after that. You were spending more time with him than Kiara, which made her jealous. Jokingly, of course. She was actually fine with it as long as you’d spend at least some time with her.

One day, he thought it would be the best ide to teach you how to surf, which ended up with you at the hospital with stitches on your right knee.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s not hard.”

“Yeah, says you. You’re literally a surf god.”

A few hours into JJ teaching you, you lost focus for a second and fell. And of course, there were some weirds sharp rocks right underneath you in the water.

It was the worst pain you’d ever felt. JJ took you to the hospital and you had to walk around with crutches for almost 2 months.

He felt so bad. Seeing you in pain hurt him mentally. So he did his best to take care of you as well as he could when you were unable to walk properly.

He carried you up the stairs at your place and helped you get into the van when you were hanging out with the pogues. He even made you like 20 “get well soon!” cards, which you all stored in your dresser beside your bed. They held a special place in your heart.

At that time when JJ was taking care of you and helping you all the time, you came to a huge realization.

You liked him.

A lot.

And you were hoping so badly that he would feel the same.

So a few weeks after your realization, you had build up a bit of courage to finally tell him, how you were feeling.

So you texted him and asked him to come to your place since you couldn’t really walk properly at the moment.

As he entered your room, he asked. “What’s up? You wanted to talk about something?”

You patted the spot next to you on the bed, motioning him to sit down.

“Yes, I did want to talk to you. Well, i wanted to tell you something.” You made a little pause in you speech, nervously fiddling with your fingers. JJ noticed it and placed his hand on yours.

“Whatever it is, it will be alright.”

You nodded, staring at the ground, unable to look him into the eyes.

You took a deep breath and then blurted it out. “I think I’m in love with you.”

JJ felt like the whole world stopped. He felt like you and him were the only people left in the world. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard. There was no way you were feeling the same way that he was. At least that’s what he thought.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same. How could you? But I thought I’d just tell you now. Better now than never, right?”

He placed his hand on your cheek, turning your head so you had to finally face him.

He didn’t say a word. He leaned closer to you, your lips almost touching. Your heart was literally beating out of your chest.

“I think I’m in love with you too, Y/N.”

And then he connected your lips at last, making a million butterflies erupt in your stomach. The kiss was passionate but sweet. It was everything you had dreamed of and even more.

taglist: @teamnick @www-imbored-com @delightfullynlove @prejudic3 @afterglows7b-tch13 @tomhardybby @ad-infinitums @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless @ilovejjmaybank @mdlyncline @allycat449-blog @teenwaywardasgardian @copper-boom @canibeoneofthepogues @fttayla @ifilwtmfc @bedazzledbanks @jeyramarie @joshy-obx @pink-meringues

189 notes · View notes

alexguerinss · 3 years

Text

title: long story short

summary: alex wants to go on an adventure and takes michael with him (inspired heavily by that vlamburn piggyback photo - thanks guys! lol)

AO3 LINK

“Alex, do you think this is a good idea with your prosthetic?” Michael asked as he carried a big duffel over his shoulder, watching as Alex got out of the truck and closed the passenger side door.

Alex lifted his head to glare at his boyfriend, ignoring Michael’s worried eyes before his eyes softened and he ambled over to him. Taking in Michael’s curls and eyes full of love, Alex leaned forward and kissed him on the lips before pulling away and taking Michael’s face in his hands.

“I’m fine, and I will be careful.”

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” Michael said, rolling his eyes, and Alex smirked, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“I know,” he stated matter of factly, and the laughter that came out of Michael made his cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink.

“Now, I have my crutch and the basket of food, and you have the duffel with the blankets and first aid kit in case I get a splinter,” Michael sent him a look at the comment, and he looked away to look at the surrounding area before he continued. “I think that’s everything we need. I heard from Greg that this area near the reservation has an incredible view. We just have to go up that hill,” he pointed to the landscape in front of them.

“Alex, are you serious?”

Ignoring the look Michael was giving him, he started walking, mindful of his leg, slow enough for Michael to catch up with him.

“Why couldn’t we just have a nice dinner at a restaurant for our anniversary?” Michael suggested, moving small rocks out of the way of Alex’s path with his mind.

“Because I want this to be an adventure. It’s a beautiful day, and I want to enjoy nature and this amazing view,” Michael snorted as he saw Alex looking at his ass.

Amazing view all right.

“I hope you’re right about this, Manes,” he muttered before grasping Alex’s hand, feeling the other man squeeze it as they walked up the path.

“I really don’t want this day to end, so let’s take our time. It’s only 11 in the morning anyway; we have all day,” Alex suggested, letting his face break into a rare smile.

Michael looked over at his boyfriend, seeing the happy glow around him, and he brought him close to his side to kiss him on the head. “I love you.”

The declaration didn’t go unheard, as Alex looked over at him and went to say the words back.

“I love - OW!” Alex’s pained cry made Michael freeze, wondering what happened. Looking down, he noticed that Alex’s prosthetic was fine but noticed that Alex’s left foot was not.

Michael mentally cursed himself as he realized him focusing on Alex took him away from focusing on Alex’s path and noticed that Alex’s left foot was at an odd angle. He saw a surprisingly big rock in their path that Alex walked into.

“Alex, please sit down and let me look at that,” Michael suggested looking at Alex who was biting his lip to keep from whimpering in pain. The other man could only nod in response, and Michael helped him over to a giant boulder that was just outside the path.

Michael carefully and slowly took Alex’s foot out of his hiking boot and grasped it gently. Alex let out a wounded noise, and Michael looked like he was trying to see how they could continue this hike that Alex was looking forward to while keeping Alex’s foot elevated.

“I have an idea.”

“You’re not going to levitate me, Michael,” Alex stated.

The curly-haired man just snorted before shaking his head.

“Piggyback ride?”

Alex looked up from his ankle swelling up, after watching as Michael carefully put wrapping around it from the first aid kit that he quickly brought over with his powers, and let out a smile.

“Are you sure?”

“I carried you when you were 17. I can do it again.”

Alex looked on fondly, remembering when they were teenagers, and Alex tore a muscle in his leg in gym class. Michael was the only one in the class that would go near him after hearing him curse up a storm in the middle of the gym, and he suggested how he could help him to the nurse. Alex had laughed, not realizing how serious Michael was. When Michael just looked at him, Alex shrugged and let Michael bend down so he could get on his back.

Twelve years later, he looked at the same boy who turned into the man he loved and would do anything for him.

“Okay, but I still have to carry the basket somehow.” Alex knew that they had too many things and now fewer ways to carry them. This trip was turning into a disaster.

“I have an idea,” Michael replied, getting the gears turning in his head to get some type of plan to work.

About 10 minutes later, Alex was on his back trying to hold on while Michael held his duffel and the crutch in one hand and the basket in the other.

“You good?” Michael asked, feeling Alex’s soft breaths on his neck.

Alex nodded before realizing Michael couldn’t see him. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Isn’t this view incredible?” Alex asked as they reached the top of the hiking trail, where a flat area was set up perfectly for a picnic for anyone. Shocking to no one, Michael was barely breaking a sweat before he dropped everything but Alex on the ground.

He unzipped the bag and let the blanket fly out of it, laying it on the ground using his powers. He gently let Alex down on it, mindful of his injury, and watched as Alex leaned forward to kiss him on the nose.

“Thank you,” Alex said, expressing his gratitude, before opening up the picnic basket.

Michael watched as Alex grabbed the plates, plastic utensils, and the sandwiches before pulling out the milkshakes from the diner and the chocolate covered strawberries that Rosa had given him with a wink the day before. Michael moved the basket towards his duffel, which was a few feet away from the blanket to get it out of the way.

“I didn’t get to say what I wanted to earlier,” Alex cleared his throat, “before I injured myself like an idiot.”

Michael let a grin slowly appear on his face, “Oh yeah, what was that?”

“I love you. I wanted this trip to be something special. It could maybe be something that we do like every year for a day, just to get away from all the noise and people? Just us and nature. It’s all I need, really.”

Michael looked at him with eyes shining bright before he grabbed Alex’s face with one hand.

“Yeah, I think that’s a great idea. Just need to make sure you don’t get injured again.” Michael kissed him on the lips, and it became a much deeper kiss before Alex sneakingly grabbed a chocolate-covered strawberry and promptly smashed it into his cheek. The airman broke into hysterical laughter at his actions, noting that Michael froze in his spot.

Michael didn’t know whether to look more affronted at the kiss ending or the chocolate now on his face before noticing Alex’s giggling, which caused him to break out into his own laugh.

“You think you’re funny, do you?” Michael asked, letting his smile turn into a smirk as he grabbed his own strawberry and smashed it into Alex’s face. The chocolate dripped down Alex’s face, and he licked it as it fell to his lips.

“Tasty,” Alex replied, “I think you blinded me with that chocolate though, can you get me a napkin from the basket, oh lovely boyfriend?”

Michael snickered before turning to get the basket.

As he looked through the basket, he pulled out a pile of napkins and went to hand them to Alex. When he turned around, he came face to face with a ring box.

Alex was standing up on his one good prosthetic leg, trying to balance on it and not show any sign of pain, and looking down at him with a ring box that was now being opened.

Holy shit.

“Michael Guerin,” Alex started, looking at Michael with tears in his eyes before he continued. “I knew that when we met in high school and you stole my guitar and helped carry me to the nurse’s office that you’d be the person I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. You’ve stolen my heart and I don’t want it back. My heart is yours. You have helped carry me through all the pain with my dad...war...and all the baggage that came with being with me and helped me soar. I hope I have helped you along the way, but I don’t know if there’s anyone else who could ever make me feel this way, and I don’t ever want to. I want to spend the rest of my life with you…” Michael looked on speechless before Alex asked the big question.

“Will you marry me?”

“Alex…” Alex looked on, biting his lip before Michael realized he really needed to answer. “Yes, yes, I’ll marry you. A hundred times, I’ll marry you.”

He let Alex put the ring on his finger before he slowly pulled Alex down to the blanket again so he wouldn’t have to stand in pain.

“I love you so much,” Michael grabbed Alex’s face and kissed him with an intense passion that almost had Alex falling backward.

As they broke apart, they looked at each other with a hunger that was more appropriate for the bedroom than this outside setting. Alex looked at Michael, smiling, “I have a little something to commemorate this occasion. It’s in the side pocket of the duffle. I snuck them in there before we left.”

Michael looked on confused before he quickly grabbed the duffel, unzipped the pocket, and pulled out two baseball hats. Before he could get a good look at them, he gave Alex an even more puzzled look.

Alex just smiled before pulling the hats out in full view.

“Just engaged,” Michael read in bedazzled art on the front and back of the hats.

“Isobel and Rosa helped put it together.”

“Did everyone know you were going to propose?” Michael asked, bewildered.

“To be honest, they thought I was going to propose a year ago after you got taken by Jones, but I never thought it was the right time. I came up with this idea and let them know. Max, Isobel, and Sanders gave me their approval.”

Michael snorted, “Did Sanders scare you? I only care about his approval.”

“He told me even with one eye, he’d always be watching me to make sure I took care of you. Kind of creeped me out, in a sweet way.”

Michael let out a cackle. “The old man is harmless, don’t worry.”

“Now, we need to take a photo, and we need to get a good angle and I can’t stand. I promised Kyle a photo.”

“Kyle?” Michael raised an eyebrow, and Alex rolled his eyes.

“He wants to see proof that I am truly happy with you.”

“Fine, fine. We have to look real cute, though. Let me get you on my back again, and I’ll put the timer on the phone camera and put it on the tree over there. Its branches are at a good spot so that the phone won’t fall.”

Michael ran over to the tree and set it to take the photo in 20 seconds. After getting that all done, he ran back over to Alex, who was wearing his hat backwards, and quickly helped him onto his back. Alex placed Michael’s hat on his head, and Michael looked straight ahead smiling as Alex looked on laughing.

SNAP.

Alex got off Michael’s back and went back to sit on the blanket as Michael went to get the phone. He was looking at the photo and smiling before handing it over to Alex.

“Oh yeah, we are definitely the cutest.”

“No, you’re the cutest,” Michael said, before pulling Alex into another kiss.

#malex #malex fic #alex manes #michael guerin #roswell new mexico #my fic

59 notes · View notes

honestsycrets · 4 years

Text

Show Me I: Bitter Chocolate | [ Ivar x Reader ]

❛ pairing | ivar x reader

❛ type | oneshot

❛ summary | even though its relatively recent since you’ve graduated, you’ve always had a passion for dessert making. you’re confident! just... maybe not with your new boss, ivar.

❛ tags | bjorn & hvitserk dynamic, baking or restaurant au, referenced osteogenesis imperfecta, reader sucks at picking up on clues, referenced deafness, deaf!ivar

❛ sy’s notes | i tried my best to lean on my shitty knowledge of baking shows to come up with some bullshit for this. additionally, he’s going deaf, hasn’t always been deaf. I tried to mix up since i usually see a lot of focus on the reader in reader inserts being the deaf one.

You’re sitting barrel down from a tasting table, rolling a ring size too short over and over along your middle finger. The more you try not to look like a meek new graduate with a grand diplome in pastry, the more you felt like you were up a creek without a paddle.

“Sigurd showed us your portfolio but-- I don’t think this was in it.” one of the owners stood by your pastry. He had the type of eyes that could intimidate anyone back-- man or woman -- and imposition in the way he folds his arms one over another. He’s massive.

“It wouldn’t be. I made it just for this.”

The man sitting next to him laughs as he plucks up the bottle of wine you brought for the dessert. Far from being insulted, or turned off, the brothers look amused. “Wine and dine, Bjorn, get it?”

The big blond ignores him.

“Ignore him.”

“A pistachio cake filled with raspberry, wrapped in a mirror glaze and topped with a half-moon of tempered sugar, Mr. Ragnarsson.”

“Call me Bjorn.” he corrects before gesturing to his much punier brother. His hair is smooth as honey, eyes a murky green-- or blue. His brother scratches his beard, lowering himself at eye level with your piece. “We’re both Ragnarssons. There are five of us. What do you think Hvitserk?”

“You tempered it yourself?” came his reply. He looks silly, alright, but he has the sort of hunger that you only hope to keep as a chef when he reaches for a fork. He slides his knife into the cake and pulls it apart.

“I wasn’t aware there was an alternative.”

Hvitserk looks up from his place lowered among the pastry. At once you think he’s making a mental note of how not to hire you, but his dumb grin widens, flicking his eye over to Bjorn. “I think she can handle him.”

Bjorn unfurls his arms and takes a fork, swiping into the pastry. His brother crunches on your spun sugar with a little bob of his head. “It doesn’t take much to impress Hvitserk,” he remarks, then eases his bite into his thin lips, considering what he’s eating for longer than he should.

“See, ah, ah?” Hvitserk teases, elbowing his much thicker brother in the gut. “She knows what she’s doing. Eat another. Do burpees later.”

“Shut up, Hvitserk.”

You bring your hands together and lace your fingers together hard enough that it’s like a prayer to god-- please, please, please let this be the one. For a moment, Bjorn looks unconvincingly at you. There’s something about you, you decide, that he has some reservations about.

You glance out of the office toward the grandeur of a full running kitchen. They’re crammed in it, everyone with their own station-- pans, pots, skillets, and plates. They’re squished three at a station and still, it seems to run at its perfect pace. You never hoped to be in culinary-- you wanted something bigger and better. Pastry-- that was your home.

“Well,” Hvitserk teases with a big, dopey smile. “If you want it, it’s yours.”

“Your plating looks like shiiiiit,” Hvitserk has this sing song to his voice that you could only attribute to a man that should have been on broadway.

“What’s wrong with it?” Bjorn leans back, raising his hands up.

“Too much sauce,” Hvitserk rumbles without missing a beat. “Looks like a jizzed up prostitute.”

“I hate to break it to you, brother, but most prostitutes wrap it.”

Hvitserk shrugs. “Guess you would know.”

The bad thing about working for five brothers was that you worked for five brothers. Bjorn and Hvitserk jumped off of one another in the kitchen like they were made to be there with one another. A head chef and his much littler, less imposing chef.

You rarely saw Sigurd, their brother, who kept himself to supplying before hours. Ubbe worked the front of the house. Time passed smoothly since your hiring a little over a month ago, and it was easy to get into the swing of the four brothers.

Despite there being five, as Bjorn once told you, you’d yet to hear of the last.

“Careful,” Ubbe stops you on your way in one day. You smooth your hand over your clean white uniform and tilt your head.

“What is it?”

“Our brother Ivar is back from England.” He almost seems anxious in his own sort of way. Strange for a Maitre D. But he’s there for his smooth personality and his handsome face-- because who could really get mad at someone that handsome? “He’s the head pastry chef. I’m not sure Sigurd let him know you were hired. He’s the sort of man that will snap on you if you’re the wrong person.”

This was why Ubbe was the front of house. Not only did he look good in a nice suit, or a good dress shirt with a slender tie, but he had the sort of stubbly smile that reflected genuine concern in his eyes. Enough to be imposing when he needed to be, enough to back down if that needed to be too. He must know something that you didn’t. You try not to think about it.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

You were the wrong person.

You know that you had done something wrong when you brought the chocolate molds out from the blast chiller. Not because it wasn’t some beautiful chocolate, but because when you flipped it-- it didn’t flip. Unfortunately for you, you’re not saved by extra time.

“That looks like shit,” Amma peers over your station, biting her lip hard.

“Amma-- shhh,” you hiss.

“It’s not like he’s out--” Amma drops her sentence when she hears a heavy footfall one after another from the slapping gates. You glance over where she’s looking, finding that the man who must be Ivar, walks in with the aid of a crutch under his all-black uniform. He looks like he’s all business, more so than all the other brothers, because of the lack of humor on his face. His brothers hardly acknowledge his presence. For you, it’s hard not to.

It’s not like he’s particularly bad looking, after all.

“Hi Ivar,” she chirps, rushing past him when he doesn’t answer. Amma, you shout as gently as you can whisper. She’s gone in an instant. Ivar makes his way past the busy lunch party toward your working area.

“Hello,” you say as he shoulders by you without a response. You figure-- because you’re a good damn employee -- that you should make friendlies with the last of the Ragnarssons. Something catches his eye and Ivar seizes to a stop and looks to your mold on your workstation. He snatches it from you, flipping it around onto the counter and slams it. Over-- and over-- and over.

And it’s not coming out.

And then worse, it breaks apart.

Ivar bows his head on his forearm and out of nervousness your find your eye wandering-- over to Hvitserk. He’s holding what looks to be a gravy boat in his hand, grimacing with a little shrug, as he mouths for you to pay attention.

Ivar thumps his thick knuckle at your work station. Try again.

Maybe worse of all-- the man doesn’t even say one word to you. You retemper the chocolate.

Usually, something simple like tempering chocolate? Easy, done, finished. No problemo. This is the sort of stuff you could do in your dreams! Except, Ivar has this quality about him, the kind that is scrutinizing even when he isn’t saying anything. The rest of the week progresses the same. Either he doesn’t speak to you at all or doesn’t respond to questions, or has that look about him that you’re the greatest fuck-up to walk in his kitchen.

For the most part, his other chefs seem to not only be used to that, but flourish underneath his scrutiny. Chocolate, something that is so simple, is now your worst enemy. He works hunched over the lead pastry table on his elbows when not on his crutch, glaring at your chocolate like it had done something wrong.

“--if it’s wrong,” you start.

Ivar glances up at you, hard. Shut up, it feels like he says. Your lips press together in a tight seal.

“Right. I’ll just go-- go get the cheesecake.”

Yeah, mini cheesecakes sound good-- somewhere where you could bury your head and scream in the many shelves of the frigid walk in closet. One where your inaccuracies didn’t have to match up to Ivar’s forceful standards and failure didn’t flash like a neon light over and over again. Ivar flips the molds over and slip your chocolate domes out of their home, reaching for the soft foam to go with the dessert. And again, he doesn’t even acknowledge you.

He’s being a dick, so you leave.

“Wow,” the door behind you clacked open. There’s a quiet shuffle of feet as Hvitserk comes in, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a not-for-cooking cloth, because that’s gross, and tips his head to the side. A lock of his chestnut hair clings to his sheening forehead. It’s fucking cold in here. Maybe that’s why he came in. Or, like the others, maybe he wanted to laugh a little bit.

“He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Hvitserk laughs, clasping his hands together, then release. “You’d know if he hated you.”

“Yeah.” You snap back. “I do. He’s acting like a bitch. He doesn’t even talk to me.”

“He didn’t throw the plate at you.”

You snort. That’s a great start to a relationship with your new boss.

“But that might be because you’re a woman.” Hvitserk slips his hand beside your head, reaching past you to slide out the mini cheesecakes for the event, then taps you on the nose with his opposing hand, and you’re not crying, it’s just the change of temperature that’s messing with your head, because you’re NOT crying.

“Don’t worry babe,” Hvitserk strokes your back with his other hand. “He’s like that with everyone.”

“Not his other pastry chefs,” you say pointedly. Hvitserk opens his mouth, as if to tell you that you’re new, that Ivar will take time to warm up to you, when the door opens. Your boss stands there, holding his crutch stubbornly with one hand, looking at the metal tray. Then, his head shifts, accusatorily toward Hvitserk.

He turns to his brother. “I got your pie.”

“Hurry up,” Ivar says with a low drag that sounds slurred over.

Hvitserk shifts to the side, shrugging his shoulders, “But I got your pie.”

“I didn’t ask you.” Ivar stuffs his crutch under his arm to support his weight. Then, gesturing with two hands, he signs something that you only catch because of Hvitserk’s roaring laughter shaking the cooler altogether.

Hvitserk shuffles out, “Man, you just got back. Don’t be a bitch.”

Or maybe, you were the asshole.

After service, you’re sweeping the crumbles of chocolate that Ivar’s flung off the side during plating. The stations have been cleaned and most the other chefs had gone already. All but Ivar, reclining against his station, watching you sweep until he speaks with that same drag, the first words you ever heard out of him.

“I can teach you how to temper chocolate.”

You glance up at him, sweeping the bits into a picker upper, and you’ve never heard something more demeaning spoken in the kindest of way. His expression seems softer now. “I was nervous,” you excuse, bringing your hand to your chest. With a swirl of your wrist in a circle, you gesture, sorry. Ivar turns his head down. “How long have you been--”

“It’s a recent occurrence.” He snaps, cutting you off. “It’s not like-- not completely. Where did you learn that?”

“My niece? She’s uh-- speech impaired. I know ‘I’m hungry’, ‘Please’ and ‘More,’ too.”

Not the greatest way to start. Ivar cracks into his laughter slowly, running his hands through his long hair, then tipping his head back. His arms fold defensively over his chest. “Good for you.”

It should have died there, but rather, you went on.

“Look I’m not usually this shitty.”

He tips his head forward, raising his eyebrows. Really?

“--I’d like to show you that. I don’t work Sunday, if you have time for brunch?”

It’s not a half-cocked attempt for a date, it’s this stupid desire to show him you could be more than that girl who couldn’t make the simplest of dessert elements. It wasn’t sugar for god's sakes! It was chocolate! After a moment of mulling it over, he nods. You exchange phone numbers, and later, your address.

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa, @inforapound @winchesterwife27 @feyrearcheron44@readsalot73 @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer @medievalfangirl @sallydelys @bluearchersstuff @affectionrabbitt @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @unacceptabletatertots @ivarandersen @stra-vage @tgrrose @cookies186 @learninglemni-blog @theleeshanotlouise @soiproclaim @msmorganforever @destynelseclipsa @soleil-dor

#ivar x reader #ivar/reader #ivar the boneless x reader #ivar ragnarsson x reader #ivar's heathen army #vikings imagine #vikings imagines #vikings/reader #vikings x reader

159 notes · View notes

youbloodymadgenius · 4 years

Text

Photographs, Cuddles and Hot Cocoa (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: Happy birthday, @flowers-in-your-hayr 🎉 May your day be the most beautiful! 🌺 Hope you’ll enjoy this silly thing I wrote. And @maggiescarborough, thank you for planning this special challenge.

Of course, I chose an Ivar's moodboard. And now it’s Christmas in May 🎄

Once again, I wholeheartedly thank you, @inforapound. You’re the best beta ever. And my friend 🌷

Obviously, the moodboard belongs to you, @flowers-in-your-hayr 😉

Summary: You’re tired and wanted to cuddle but Ivar’s got other plans. You’re not thrilled.

Warnings: fluff with no plot; Ivar may be a little OOC, sorry about that.

Words: 2066

"Ivar, where are we?"

Looking around, frowning, you don't even try to hide how annoyed you are, your head resting against the car window. He gives you an amused smile, the pad of his thumb stroking your cheek.

"You don't remember? I thought you'd recognize this place."

He seems slightly disappointed, which doesn't help your mood. Because you should be the disappointed one. Well, you probably are. More disappointed than he is, anyway.

"No, I don't."

He lets his hand fall back into his lap, clearly surprised by your increasingly irritated tone.

"Just look around, love."

"That's what I'm doing, Ivar! I'm not sure what you want me to say. That we are in the middle of nowhere? Okay, we are!" Blowing up, you raise your voice. "I'm not stupid, Ivar! I know we're on the heights of Kattegat, not far from the chalet since we didn't drive long. But we could be anywhere! It's white, white and white! There's snow everywhere!!! How am I supposed to recognize this fucking place, Ivar???"

"Okay, take it easy Y/N!" Smiling, he squeezes your knee. It's infuriating how he can stay calm on the rare occasions when you're the one who gets angry. "Remember, we're on vacation and we've got all the time in the world. Just tell me… what's wrong?"

You soften in spite of yourself when his forget-me-not blue eyes peer into yours.

"Imtiredandwantedtocuddle." You mumble, suddenly shy and embarrassed, sucking on your lower lip.

You're speaking the truth. Christmas Day with Ivar's family had been surprisingly successful. Sigurd had behaved, Aslaug's cooking had been, as usual, scrumptious and the gifts appreciated. Your somewhat grumpy lover had even been cheerful – well, most of the time. So yeah, everything had gone well. But it had been exhausting. Waking up at dawn, baking a cake, a two-hours drive to Kattegat, a whole day of smiling and keeping the conversation going, you and Ivar eventually had arrived at the Lothbrok's chalet very late last night, for a well deserved week's holiday, just the two of you. And this morning, all you wanted to do was cuddle, wrapped in a thick blanket. But here you are now, wearing your brand new snow suit, in the middle of nowhere, at the insistence of Ivar, your stubborn fiancé.

Ivar stifles a chuckle, scrunching up his nose. "Fuck, I love your pouty face, Y/N!"

Sticking your tongue out at him, you can't help but close your eyes, purring with delight as his hands cup your face. You love him so fucking much.

Still, you're not ready to admit defeat. Not just yet. "I'm not that easily bought, Ivar!"

Flashing his trademark smile, he gives a peck on your forehead, laughing. "I know, love!! If I promise tons of cuddles later, will you be less angry?"

"Maybe." A whisper escapes your mouth while a faint smile appears on your face. As much as you'd like to, you can never stay mad at him for long.

"Then I promise." His voice is soft now, his smile genuine, his eyes full of love, and you know he won. You'd do anything for this man, for his happiness.

Intertwining your fingers with his, you bring his hand closer, kissing it gently while releasing a light sigh. "Okay, let's start again." You stop, glancing around one more time. When you speak again, there's not the slightest hint of annoyance in your voice. "Mind telling me where we are? Because I swear to you, I don't have a clue."

Leaning forward, Ivar points at a snowy tree out on the right side of the car. "Doesn't that oak remind you of anything? Really?" Frowning, he looks truly astounded, maybe disappointed too. Realizing that you probably unwillingly hurt his feelings, you stare out at the winter scenery, paying particular attention to the majestic old tree. And it just hits you. Shit.

"Oh gods Ivar, I'm so sorry… Of course I know where we are. But you know, with all that snow, I had no bearings. Yet I should have known. Oh gods, I can't believe I didn't recognize…" Stopping your useless rambling, you can't help but cringe, mentally scolding yourself. Your hand grazes his cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Swallowing hard, you lower your gaze, slightly ashamed. "I'm so sorry, Ivar. That's our tree."

Your tree, which regally overlooks a small pond. This is your little paradise. Your secret place, where you first kissed eight years ago, after he gave himself to you like never before, revealing all his fears and insecurities. Your secret place, where he proposed to you last summer, crying in your arms, gobsmacked that you said yes.

"Yes, our tree." Smiling softly, Ivar grabs his camera from the back seat. "I'm glad your memory returned, I was beginning to wonder if this place meant as much to you as it did to me." He winks at you, but you can see concern in his eyes. Ivar will never be completely sure of your love, no matter what you say or do, because he thinks he doesn't deserve it.

"It's the best place in the whole world, Ivar." You reassure him, your hand barely squeezing his thigh. "I'll gladly forego a long cuddle session if it means spending an hour here with you." Tilting your head, you reach out, fingers skimming his jaw, before kissing him tenderly. You're the first to pull away, looking intently into his eyes. "Now tell me, my love, why did you choose to come here today? If this is about asking me to marry you, you remember I already said yes, right?" Chuckling, you pepper light kisses over his face as he wraps his arm around your waist, drawing you closer.

"Actually, I've wanted to take pictures here during winter for a long time." Backing up just enough to show you his camera, he gives you one last peck on the lips. "I've never had the chance since we usually only come here in July or August. So yeah…", he shrugs, looking sorry, "that's why I rushed you a little bit this morning. But just look…" Getting excited, he gestures wildly, showing you the scenery around you. "All this fresh snow, it's beautiful. And the brightness today is amazing. A perfect day for perfect pictures. It would have been a shame not to come."

His words bring a broad smile to your face. You love seeing him like this, passionate and committed. Photography is his happy bubble. A world where his legs don't matter, where he doesn't have to compete against his brothers. A world which taught him patience. And gods, he's good at it! One day his pictures will be exhibited, you're sure of it.

Scratching the back of his neck, he scowls for a second, his hand squeezing yours. "I realize just now that it was silly to bring you here. You could have stayed at the chalet. Shit Y/N, I'm sorry. Do you want to wait for me here? You could stay in the car, so you won't get cold. I promise to be quick. What do you say?"

Shaking your head, you put on your woollen gloves, your pompon beanie already on your head. "No way, Ivar. Of course I'm coming with you."

Your hand on the door handle, you give him a questioning look. "Where do you want to go? At the risk of repeating myself, there's snow everywhere."

"I know that," he giggles at your obvious, rolling his eyes. "We'll go to the pond of course, where else?"

Doing a double take, you stare wide-eyed at him. "To the… pond?" Your high-pitched tone giving away your unbelief, you see Ivar furrowing his brows.

When he speaks again, it's with an expressionless face, apprehension clear in his voice. "That's what I said, yes. Is there a problem?"

A problem? Of course there is. The truth is, there is a problem. A long list of problems.

First, walking in the snow is always challenging for Ivar, his leg braces and his crutch. And right now, even the wheelchair friendly path leading to the pond is nonexistent, covered with a thick layer of snow.

Second, it's too cold out here. Too cold for his legs, which will stiffen in no time, causing him terrible pain.

Third, he woke up this morning unwell, wincing, swallowing with his orange juice a double dose of painkillers while complaining about how the previous day had been stressful and tiring.

You're about to talk, to explain, when you catch his pleading eyes. He knows exactly what you're thinking. There isn't a sound out of him, but it's not necessary, you can't miss the silent question in his gaze. “Please. Don't."

Overwhelmed with mixed feelings, you remain silent for a minute. You hate seeing him in pain, struggling to take a step and knowing he'll pay for it later makes you sick. Yet, you don't want to be the one clipping his wings. You can't be the one restraining him. You're his lover, not his mother. Your task is to trust him, be there for him no matter what, not to coddle him. You have to remember that your high school sweetheart is not as reckless as he used to be. He knows his limitations as well as his abilities. He's learned not to overwork himself.

Biting your lip, you release a shaky breath. "I won't." Your whispered answer to the question he didn't ask brings a faint smile to his face. He nods, closing his eyes for an instant, relief written all over his face. "Thank you."

***

"I'll be right there, love." Leaning heavily on his crutch, Ivar slowly crosses the kitchen, heading to the open-plan lounge, two mugs of cocoa in his free hand.

Getting up off the couch, you rush to him, a warm smile on your lips. "I got them." Reaching out, you quickly grasp the cups, putting them on the coffee table before returning to him.

As soon as you slip your hand on his waist, he wraps his arm around your shoulders, a gesture expressing a sign of affection as much as the need to be helped.

He's in pain and exhausted. You know it, you see it but it was worth it. His radiant face, his joyful exclamations, his childish enthusiasm were worth it. Watching him taking pictures for almost two hours, his eyes full of stars, raving about the pristine white landscape was worth it.

"Here, careful." You don't let go of his arm until he sits down, cursing under his breath. "Don't tell me 'I told you so', please,” he mumbles, hiding a wince as best as he can.

Kissing his forehead, you laugh, shaking your head, “How could I? I've told you absolutely nothing,” before grazing his left leg. "May I take off your braces?" Knowing that he trusts you and he won't mind, you get to work right away, gently removing the heavy contraptions. He gives you a grateful smile as you carefully lift his legs, helping him to settle on the wide couch before snuggling against him, the both of you tucked up under a fleece blanket.

The crackling fire, the invigorating cocoa, the warmth of your man, the love you feel, your two beings radiating happiness and those cuddles you were craving for, everything is perfect.

You're dozing off when Ivar breaks the silence, his fingers brushing your side. "How about a bath?" You lazily raise your head, yawning and stretching. "Hmm… A relaxing bath… Sounds like a good idea,” you say, as your hand lightly rubs his thigh, feeling each and every knot.

Sighing with relief, Ivar sits quietly for a while before grabbing your wrist, his suddenly husky voice startling you. "No… not necessarily relaxing… See… that's what…" sucking on your earlobe, he's hard to understand as he puts your hand on his crotch, "… I was thinking about."

Bursting out laughing, you playfully squeeze his cock. "Is that so? Well, all you can think about is sex, right?"

Hand on his chest, Ivar gasps, playing that he’s offended, making you laugh even more. "How can you think so little of me? Of course not! All I can think about is you, Y/N. I just can't help it, you're so beautiful. And so fucking perfect!"

Gods. This is your man. And he's so fucking perfect too!

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @waiting4inspiration @hecohansen31 @a-mess-of-fandoms @gearhead66 @readsalot73 @lonewolf471 @milkkygirls @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @flowers-in-your-hayr @maggiescarborough

#ivar #ivar ragnarsson #ivar lothbrok #modern ivar #modern ivar x reader #modern!ivar #modern!ivar x reader #modern-ivar #ivar imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings imagine #vikings #vikings ivar #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #flowers-in-your-hayr #Happy Birthday #birthday fic

262 notes · View notes

in-class-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Youth Coach!Bokuto x Youth Coach!Reader

Hey Anon, so sorry for getting to this so late, but I finally had the time to do this request! Hopefully this is kinda close to what you were expecting!

- Kiwi

Being a sports med college student is definitely not the easiest thing in the world

Why? Well...because college is a thing. College = broke bitch

No tengo dinero :(

So you figured, “hey getting a part time job won’t be the worst thing in the world” You’d be able to make some extra cash

¡logramos este pan!

There’s a youth center close to campus that’s hiring so you figured why not because

You love kids (most of the time)

You have decent volleyball experience to be able to coach since you did play for a while

Few weeks later you heard back from them and you got the job!

Your boss asks if you can come in a couple days before your first day so you can get used to the place and get an idea of how things work

So you get there and you see a VERY familiar floof of white hair sticking out from around the corner

You had to do a double take for a second

Bo.

Bo?

BO?!?!?

He turns around and then he has to do a double take before he recognizes you

“Y/N?!?!?!”

“KOUTAROU?!?!?”

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here????!”

(excessive hooting ensues)

But when you finish he’s like

“I work here as a volleyball coach...oh hold up, are you the new girls’ coach?”

“Yup!”

He was so happy when he found out y’all were working the same shift

Alrighty so backtrack, you guys know each other because you played on the Fukurodani Girls’ Volleyball team

Since first year, you managed to befriend this hyper-energetic kid

You saw this crackhead all 3 years of your high school life which meant that your life was guaranteed to never have a dull moment upon meeting him

And you definitely didn’t have a crush on him what? who? (Y/N)? idk her ahaha

But seriously he's prime boyfriend material ur just a weenie who had fOUR YEARS to shoot your shot but u didn’t boo thumbs down

But tbh he ADORES you

You’re his precious (but scary when necessary) bean and will fight anybody to protect you

You honestly don’t know what you did that made him decide to become captain of Protect Y/N Squad but he is

Aaaand that stayed true even in college. He was so excited when he found out y’all were attending the same university

But since college is a big meanie, you guys haven’t been able to spend as much time with each other >:((

Needless to say, when Bokuto found out you worked the same shift as him, he was so freakin happy

Literally jumping off the walls

He was just really happy to spend more time with you

Before your shifts start, you guys arrive early so you can just chill in the lounge

Actually, more like you’re getting school work done and uh, Bokuto is uhm, well...being him

But it’s not his fault!!

Bo is not a school person

That’s just not his specialty

But he is so so smart in other ways and you will s c r a p with anyone who says otherwise

Anyways

It wasn’t uncommon for a co-worker to walk in and see you getting some schoolwork done, and Bokuto, well, being him

Exhibit A : you’re working on an assignment that’s due later this week, but since you have some time now, you decided to get some of it done until --

“Hey (Y/N) if I punch myself and it hurts, does that mean I’m strong, or I’m weak?”

“Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

“I’ve been trying to! My arm just really hurts, and I still don’t know the answer!”

*Pouty Bo has entered the chat*

Or Exhibit B: For once you’re not doing homework. Bokuto actually brought you some smoothies he bought on his way to work, so y’all are just sipping on smoothies until --

“Hey (Y/N), ya ever notice how cold water tastes sharp, but warm water tastes smooth? Like isn’t that whack?”

＿φ(￣ー￣ )

All jokes aside, he’s really good with kids

His group of 9-10 year olds - The Owlets - absolutely LOVE him (but who wouldn’t?)

Honestly you were kinda surprised at how well he gets along with the kids but not really

Let's be honest he’s the same mental age as them

He’s just as childish as them

Whenever a volleyball from your side of the room rolls over to his, he takes it upon himself to send it back by spiking it towards you

Luckily, you’re able to receive it, and it doesn’t cause much trouble

Other times he’ll just openly sling his arm over your shoulder, and put all his weight on it but uh

he has this thing called... M U S C L E

AND THERE’S SO MUCH

I mean have you seen those back muscles? Literally a blessing from the high heavens themselves

He’s always been toned and had muscle since high school BUT OH MY GOD he got SO BUFF in college and geez those are h e a v y

But your eyes are being blessed everyday so can you really complain?

The answer is no you can’t complain

But you will complain because you’ve had a crush on this mf since high school and yanno that wack feeling when you have unresolved feelings for someone and you feel weird when you look at them?

Like you kinda have feelings but you’re not sure?

Or you’re wondering if your feelings are feeling feelings or they’re just old, stale feelings coming back to harass you?

Mhmm that’s you

And uh you’re not really vibin with it

So the fact that he’s gotten even buffer is not helping your case

AND

He’s always been a sweetie but since college he’s been taking WOMEN’S STUDIES COURSES

You asked him about it and he said he wanted to make sure he was socially aware so he can “use his male privilege to help women make their voices heard”

Is he even real??

He’s drinking his respecc wahman juice ™ everyday, twice a day

Luckily, for the next few weeks, everything goes super smoothly

Your group of kids - The Penguins - are very driven in trying to improve themselves

And kids who want to get better at something they’re passionate about is absolutely ADORABLE

So while you guys are cleaning the gym up Bokuto asks you if you could come to his game on Saturday

And bring the kids ofc because it’d be a good learning experience

Obviously you agree cause you’re not missing out on watching him play volleyball

So it’s finally the long awaited Sunday, and you get there kinda early just so you have more time to make sure all the kiddos get there to the meeting spot safely

And in case you run into a certain volleyball player before the game starts

Turns out, Lady Luck was on your side today

You’re walking down the hallway when you spot a certain owl-haired man

“Koutarou!”

He whips around so fast and his face lights up upon seeing you call out his name

He sprints speed walks over to you

“(Y/N)! I thought you’re supposed to meet up with the kiddos?”

“Yeah, but I got here early so I ended up walking around for a bit,”

In his eyes, you’re so adorable right now

You face is kinda flushed with a light pink spread across your cheeks, and your hair just flows around you and he’s just so in awe

His trance was broken when you checked the time and realized you should be heading to the meeting spot soon

“Ah, I should probably head over to the meeting spot. Good luck, Koutarou! I’ll be cheering you on with the kids!”

“Thanks, I’m looking forward to it!”

So you guys go your separate ways, and make it to the meeting spot 5 minutes in advance. All the kids show up on time, and the parents saying thank you for watching their kid, etc.

You bring them to the front row of the cheering section, but a little off to the left so the kids don’t get caught up in whatever the cheering section happens to be doing

The game starts and the kids are in absolute awe over Coach Bokuto and tbh so are you

Now, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen him play, but goddamn every time you do it’s so mesmerizing

He does a complete 180 whenever he plays

Completely focused, and all his movements are precise

and the back muscles oh the high heavens are really testing you today

You can’t help but notice how the energy from the crowd makes him so excited

At some point you could’ve sworn that he was scanning the cheering the section trying to find you

He totally was, and he spots you and the kiddos and it makes him so happy

His captain had to snap Bokuto back into the game since he got distracted, and that made you laugh a lil

The rest of the game progresses smoothly

Really smoothly actually. The team had a comfortable lead and they were match point from winning their second set, so they were doing juuuuust fine

Throughout the game, you point on things that should be brought to attention, and the kids kept asking question, which you were more than happy to answer

The match ends with victory for Tokyo U with a solid 3-1 win, and you escort the kids back to the meeting spot where their parents are supposed to pick them up

What you didn’t expect was for Bokuto to be there too

The kids sprint over and flock him, showering him with compliments about his performance during the game

The parents arrive, and one of the parents asked if they could get a group picture with everybody, and soon all the parents were getting their phones out

Ya know the thing where one parent asks to take a picture and now you have a gallery of parents and like 60% of them take like 2 mins just to take one picture?

Yeah, that

All the parents ended up with a whole bunch of cute pics, and the kids were on their ways home

Since Bokuto was still in his uniform, you walk with him back to the locker rooms, and just as you were about to turn the corner, he suddenly slings his arm over your shoulder, and puts all of his body weight onto your back. You’re really trying hard to shimmy out from under him, but he’s SO FREAKING HEAVY

(It’s the muscles, they are d e n s e)

Ofc he notices this and whines about it

“(Y/N)! Why’re you trying to escape?? I’m so sore, please let me use you as a human crutch for like 2 minutes!”

“Ew, no, Koutarou. You’re still sweaty and smelly, get off of meeee”

You somehow manage to drag your poor body to the locker room doors with this man child dragging behind

“I’ll wait out here Kou--”

Before you could finish your sentence, Bokuto turned you around and wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you into a warm hug

“Thanks for coming to the game, (Y/N)”

Your brain is not comprehending ANyTHing is boy is saying

Your high school crush is hugging you like it's some shoujo manga like eXCUse mE?

And sis you’re not missing this opportunity, so you wrap your arms around his torso, and you can feel him tense up a little underneath your hands

Your brain finally catches up to you, and you’re able to formulate thoughts before you speak (cause otherwise you’re pretty sure you would’ve stuttered like a blubbering mess)

“Of course. Anytime, Koutarou”

“I’m gonna go clean up. Do you mind waiting for me?”

“Not at all. Take your time.”

“Ok, thanks. I’ll be out soon.”

Just as he pulled away from the hug, he leans down to kiss your cheek before reaching out for the door handle

Hold up

Kissed

You

The

Cheek

AND HE’S TRYNA RUN AWAY FROM WHAT HE DID

NAH UH

Before you convince yourself what you’re about to do might change the whole dynamic of your guys relationship, you grab a whole muscley arm, and pull him down a little, and you return a kiss on his left cheek

Oh shit

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh dear god

WE HAVE BUNGLED THIS MISSION

In order to save yourself from any further potential embarrassment, you let go of his arm, and skedaddle (skidoodle ur dicc is now a noodle)

over to the lobby

This poor boy

One (1) whole confused owl

You kissed him back…

YOU KISSED HIM BACK

Kinda. It was on the cheek, not like a kiss in reciprocity

*YOU KISSED HIM ALSO

He realized he’s standing there like an idiot so he hurries into the locker room and showers because even he recognizes that he stank

Mansweat

But he’s literally thinking about that cheek kiss the entire time he’s freshening up

And so were you

You’re sitting on a bench in the lobby trying to think of how to talk to him without making it awkward

But the fact that your heart spazzing out in your chest, and your stomach is doing backflips certainly doesn’t help

But hey...you kissed your crush (go you!)

Time passes a lot quicker when you’re thinking about smooching Bokuto because he’s walking towards you with this bag slung over his shoulder

You get up from the bench sweating anxiety bullets and start heading over to him

“Hey Kou, about earlier I--”

Before you could finish your sentence, Bokuto who is also sweating anxiety bullets but at least he’s smelling nicer quickly interrupted you

“(Y/N) I’M SO SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN TO KISS YOU I JUST THINK YOU’RE SUPER CUTE!”

He’s yelling cause (duh it’s Bo) he can’t help it, but like you also get caught up in it so:

“OH IT’S OK DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT, IT’S COOL..!”

“JUST BECAUSE I LIKE YOU DOESN’T MEAN WE CAN’T BE FRIENDS...ALL CASUAL AND SHIT”

“aHAHAHA CASUAL YEAH YEAH THAT’S RIGHT, WE’RE TOTALLY BUDS ”

“I MEAN JUST FRIENDS IS CHILL, THAT’S COOL I RESPECT THAT, BUT I’D LIKE IT IF YOU WENT OUT WITH ME”

“GOOD CAUSE I WANNA GO OUT WITH YOU!”

Rip to everyone’s eardrums

Meanwhile…

Akaashi: “I suddenly feel super embarrassed… but I don’t know why.”

Back to the main show:

“COOL ARE YOU FREE THIS SATURDAY?”

“YEAH”

“cOOL”

“COOL”

*aggressive hand shake*

Passersby are very confused

But oh my god this poor boy

His hands are shaking, and he has armpit sweat galore

But it’s ok you’re just the same as him

Less pitsweat, but still stressed

Poor Bo was so out of it that when heard his phone go off he jumped a lil bit

Luckily it was a text from you

From: (Y/N) [8:26 pm]

“You’ll ace this date! <3”

Cut to Bokuto, having the meltdown of the century

#headcanon #haikyuu!!#bokuto kotarou #bokuto imagine #bokuto x reader #bokuto headcanon #fukurodani #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

83 notes · View notes

epochofbelief · 4 years

Text

Breath Control, Chapter Five

An A Court of Mist and Fury College Swim Team AU

All characters belong to SJ Maas!

Feysand.

Warnings: mature content, cancer, cursing, alcohol use, etc, etc.

Let me know if you want to be tagged:)

Please Enjoy, this one’s kind of long!!

FIVE

The rest of the week passed in a blur. Everyone besides Rhys, me, and the few others who weren’t traveling was so busy preparing for the travel meet that I kind of shut myself down and ignored their excitement. I was treated to (or forced into, depending on the point of view) a few dinners with my ‘new group.’ Amren was a little intense but Cassian and Azriel were fun to be around. Mor was always there with something snarky to say to the boys and positive to me. And then there was Rhys.

He appeared to embrace he whole broken-foot thing pretty quickly. He hadn’t hit that frighteningly somber mood since I’d picked him up early Monday afternoon. I hadn’t spent any time alone with him since then, either. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that his positivity was feigned for the sake of all his friends. Everyone was so excited to race the distant (quite good) team that it made it easy for him to take a backseat in the group discussions over dinner, or during weights, or after practice. He let them have their excitement, which showed the good in him. He never did a thing to take away from it.

It was. . . easy to find my niche in the group. Something I’d never really had before. Tamlin and Ianthe had a tendency to bulldoze over those whom they spent time with. But despite the enormous personalities of my fledgling friends, I never felt forced to take the backseat and acquiesce to their whims. And I was reluctant to admit it, even to myself, but I was having fun spending time with them. It was nice to feel like I belonged somewhere.

They had taken me in.

It was the only explanation for how quickly they started inviting me to their every gathering, every meal together. And a part of me was ashamed at needing the help, anxious over the fact that I hadn’t bounced into their group with the confidence of Mor and charmed them with my easygoing attitude. They’d taken the first few steps. But wasn’t that what teammates were supposed to do? Welcome anyone who needed a place to go?

That’s what they had done for me.

The second the travel bus departed, though, I found myself alone with Rhys. It was up to me to escort him back to his place. And despite our week without any alone time, I couldn’t dispel the growing suspicion that Rhysand Night had a ‘crush’ on me. And it seemed as though he had been for a while.

It made no sense, seeing as I’d joined the team and jumped into a relationship with Tamlin. I’d barely spoken to Rhys for the past year. And yet all his behavior over the past three weeks, the subtle hints I’d gleaned from Cassian and Azriel, Mor’s occasional pushes for us to spend time together, pointed to that being the truth.

It had only been three weeks since Tamlin. I wasn’t ready for a new relationship. But it was flattering that someone else had feelings for me. Even if it made me twice as nervous to be spending virtually the entire weekend alone with Rhys. He’d need me to drive him everywhere, seeing as all of his other friends were gone until late Saturday night.

I followed him to my car a few minutes after the bus pulled out of the parking lot. He threw himself into the passenger seat, slamming the door behind him. We rode in silence. I was too nervous to start a conversation and the tension he was exuding didn’t help my nerves. Finally, as I pulled into his driveway at Astrid Oaks, he spoke.

“Is this it for me?”

“What?” I asked, startled, putting the car in park and opening the driver’s side door.

He followed suit and I walked around the front of the car to meet him. I could have just dropped him off but the urge to see him into his house in one piece was too strong. “Has my broken foot just royally fucked up my career? I’m a junior, Feyre. The rest of this year��s season is ruined, most likely. I’ve only got a year left after this.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll be back in the water before Christmas training. People have recovered from worse injuries than this.”

“But what if I don’t?”

“Well I guess that’s your choice then. Whether you want to have a positive attitude or a negative one.”

He crutched past me up the short sidewalk to his front door. “Oh, just like you chose to give up these past few weeks and months and happily accept the fact that you didn’t make the travel team this weekend?”

He was mad and I knew it was because he had been deprived of something he was passionate about, passionate in the way most athletes should be about their sport. Going months without training could threaten a career, if not ruin it. And the drive for most athletes to keep training, keep pushing themselves to be the best they can be… It was strong. If something prevented an athlete from working toward their goals, it was felt like something akin to torture for that person. I knew. I’d torn my rotator cuff my freshman year of high school and I’d been like a caged tiger for the months it had taken to heal. But my understanding didn’t change the fact that he’d just lashed out at me for no reason.

What? “Whoa. Don’t make this about me.”

“Then don’t tell me that it’s ‘my choice’ then.”

“Hey, asshole, I’m just trying to help here. Sorry you have to deal with a setback for once.” I crossed my arms.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re always so damn confident!” I was shouting now, my hands thrown into the air at my sides. “I bet it sucks to have to deal with something that rattles your perfect, confident, sexy world!”

He smirked. I hated that smirk. “Sexy?”

Oh fuck.

“Nevermind that. You know what I mean! Welcome to my world. Shit happens. It sucks. You should have to deal with it for once in your life.”

“Let me tell you something, Feyre. I’ve been through some extremely difficult times so don’t act as though my life has been all rainbows and unicorns for the past twenty-one years. You don’t know me. And that’s a bullshit attitude to have and you know it. You just don’t want to have to deal with the fact that you wasted a year of your life on Tamlin Spring.” Even as the words left his mouth I could see that he regretted them. Nevertheless--

My mouth fell open. “Fuck you, Rhys.”

He cringed. “Feyre, I’m so sorry. I didn’t--”

I held up my hands. “I’m leaving. I’ll pick you up tomorrow before practice. Don’t be late.”

“Feyre--”

I slammed the car door behind me. How had I just messed this up? Not twenty minutes ago I’d been bidding Mor, Cassian, Az, and Amren farewell, overjoyed at the fact that they had welcomed me into their group. Now here I was shouting a bunch of bullshit that was really about myself at the person who had made joining that group possible in the first place.

I pulled my car up in front of my house and made a beeline for the door. Why’d I always have to go and mess things up? Everything Rhys had said was true, and everything I’d accused him of was true-- but not about him. About me.

I’d be lucky if he forgave me. We’d only been friends for three weeks--probably not long enough to save our friendship.

Alone again. Couldn’t say I was surprised.

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

Rhys and I managed to go all day Friday without speaking. I picked him up, dropped him off, didn’t see him throughout practice since he was just there for moral support, then dropped him at his place at the end of the day. A few times, it looked like he was going to say something, anything, to me.

But he always seemed to think better of it. By Saturday afternoon, though, after a particularly nasty three hour morning practice, made worse by the fact that only about ten people were left behind from the travel meet, I was sick of not talking to anyone. I’d spent several weeks moping about Tamlin and my life and the few days I’d spent with Rhy’s friends had made me realize how much better life was with friends who weren’t masquerading as assholes. I was willing to forgive him for what he’d said to me. He’d been in a bad place mentally, had lashed out. Shouldn’t I, of all people, understand what being in a bad mental state can do to your social life? I was the poster child for internalizing everything. Shutting people out.

So I grabbed the only alcohol I had left in my place--a bottle of wine--and traipsed over to Rhys’s. I rang the doorbell. Why was I so damn nervous?

The door swung open and I was met with the surprising sight of the most disheveled Rhys I’d ever seen. Sweatpants hung low on his hips, a grey undershirt stretched across his extremely muscular chest. How did he make pajamas look so hot?

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.” He looked wary.

“I’m sick of having a. . . what did you call it? ‘Bullshit attitude’? Can we make up and drink already?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “If I could get on my knees right now, I would, Feyre. I am so, so sorry for everything I said. I wasn’t thinking. I was upset and took it out on you and that was wrong--I don’t have a valid excuse.”

“Everything you said was accurate. How can I be mad about that? You’re the first person to ever call me out on something I need to recognize about myself and work to change. So let’s forget about it. We’re both off the travel team this weekend--let’s commiserate.”

He grinned, and it might have been the cutest/hottest grin I’d ever see a male human being make. I followed him through the townhouse to his living room, where he provided me with a mug and we slumped down onto the couch together.

“So. . . how are you doing, considering the broken foot and all?”

---

We finished the bottle in an hour and I was feeling relaxed, to say the least.

“What are your plans for Thanksgiving Break?” I asked him. He was sitting on one side of the couch, legs on the floor. My own legs were thrown over the arm of the couch, my head on the couch cushion, almost close enough to touch his thigh.

“No plans. Mor got an internship (she’s crazy, I know) for the week and is flying halfway across the country to be there. Cas and Az and I usually just get really drunk Thanksgiving Day. None of us really have. . . parents.”

“Oh.”

“I didn’t say that for you to pity me.”

I swatted his thigh. “I wasn’t pitying you.

He sighed.

“You could...

“You could come home for Thanksgiving with me. Elain’s already left for home. Nesta’s flying in directly from her last job. I’ll have to take the road trip by myself once they release us from training on Tuesday morning. . .”

What was I saying? I’d been friends with this guy for three weeks. And yet even though a voice of reason was telling me I shouldn’t be inviting him to my family Thanksgiving, after our short-lived friendship, I couldn’t, wouldn’t stop myself. No matter that my relationship with my dad was poor and Nesta didn’t deal well with strangers. I wanted him there. The past day and a half we’d spent apart after seeing him every day for a week had been unbearable. Not only had my guilt eaten me up about the things I’d said to him. No. I’d missed him. His comforting, playful presence. His ability to tease me or call me out when I was being too dramatic about my situation. I wanted that around me.

Admitting those thoughts scared the shit out of me. And yet apparently the wine dulled that terror enough that I felt brave enough to ask him to come to my childhood home and dine with my mess of a family.

“Are you serious? You want me to come home with you for Thanksgiving.”

“Don’t make me rethink my offer.” I did my best to sound playful, sarcastic.

He laughed for my benefit. “Um, okay.”

“Cool.”

I ended up sleeping in Mor’s bed that night. And when I woke up the next morning I didn’t feel any regret at spending time with someone who had treated me more kindly than I thought I’d ever deserve. Rhys didn’t expect or demand anything from me other than friendship. He’d gotten me out of danger several times now and had never made himself unavailable if I needed to talk. He’d forgiven me when I’d said some unwarranted, mean things to him instead of holding it over my head for weeks to make me feel guilty. He’d let me sleep over at his place when I’d been so tired from the wine and the day’s training that I didn’t want to walk home.

So this was what a genuinely nice guy was like.

And in that moment I decided to stop comparing him, or any other male I came across, to Tamlin.

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

The next few days passed without event. Everyone returned from the dual meet after an enormous victory, so spirits were high throughout the three days of Thanksgiving Break training we had. I actually enjoyed the brutal practices while swimming in a lane with Cassian and Mor. No matter how much pain we were in, Mor was always one of the girls shouting encouragement across the pool and Cassian never failed to have some sort of joke prepared for the worst moment of the main set. Tuesday morning after practice I said farewell to my new friends (Mor threatened to kill me if I didn’t text her over the break) and was left alone with Rhys, in my driveway.

It was a four hour drive to my hometown. Shouldn't be too awful, right?

Rhys took his spot in the passenger side, I took the driver’s seat, and we were off.

Almost immediately, we got into an argument about the music selection.

“I want classic rock,” he insisted.

“I’m the driver and I want to listen to my November playlist, thank you very much.” I batted his hand away from my phone, which he was trying to steal from my lap while I was driving.

“Well I’m the one with the crippled leg so I should be the one picking the music. You get to drive.”

“First of all, you are not crippled. Your foot is broken because you and Cassian were too busy being idiots to lift weights properly. Second of all, that is so not how it works and you know--hey!”

He’d stolen my phone from my lap, his fingers brushing my thighs ever so slightly. His touch surprised me so much that I stopped arguing. That and the fact that he’d chosen to take it right as I merged onto a four lane highway, full of Thanksgiving travelers. I couldn’t steal it back.

“You don’t know my password,” I said through gritted teeth. Whether they were gritted because of how his touch made me feel or anger at my stolen phone, I didn’t want to puzzle out.

“Please. It’s probably your birthday.”

“Well you don’t know my birthday.”

“Please,” he said again.

A moment later and Metallica music issued from my speakers. “Dammit, Rhys! How do you know my birthday?”

“How do you not like Metallica.”

“I don’t listen to Metallica and I prefer other things. Don’t judge my taste in music. Everyone has a weird taste in music.”

He shrugged and reclined his chair.

“Can I have my phone back, please?” I changed my tone. Flirty usually got me somewhere, with Rhys.

He took the bait. Boys. So predictable. “What will you give me for it?”

I glanced at him, traffic too busy for me to take my eyes off the road for long. He looked at me, his gaze unwavering.

I couldn’t hear the music anymore. “What is it you want, Rhys?” I asked quietly.

He sat up at that. “I’m the one asking the questions here. I have all the power, Feyre Archeron. I control the MUSIC.”

The sounds of his rock music came flooding back in. “You’re a drama queen.” Yes, easy flirting was much easier than discovering what his answer to my question might be.

“If I’m the queen, you’re the king. I bet you’re milking that broken foot for all it’s worth: time off practice, personal chauffeurs to drive you everywhere, a free invite to Elain’s amazing Thanksgiving dinner.” I clicked my tongue. “I should leave you on the side of the road right now.”

He changed his tone pretty quickly at that. “No, no, please.” He whined. It was kind of adorable. “I’m sick of Thanksgiving with Cass and Az. We get takeout and drink beer. It’s not the same.”

“Alright. You may now alternate the genre of music we listen to.”

“Thank you, O Queen of Drama.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re welcome, prick.”

His returning grin was one to rival every grin of every decent looking male in the history of all males. And I was pretty sure I was grinning right back.

Approximately three and a half hours later, a mere thirty minutes from my childhood home, my car started sputtering.

The drive had been fun, had gone by faster than any of my previous trips home ever had. Rhys had kept up a constant stream of entertainment. We’d discussed politics, books, art, team drama (of which there was plenty), our families. I’d tentatively asked Rhys about his parents and sister after I’d found myself explaining all of my family drama--Elain’s nasty breakup with Greyson, Nesta’s ice-cold exterior, and my father’s initial business success, followed by a period of failure, which had lasted most of my childhood, and his newfound riches. It had taken me months to explain everything to Tamlin. With Rhys, though, it all came spilling out.

“My mom died when I was a kid. Car accident. Drunk driver. My dad lives halfway across the world, in Hybern. I haven’t seen him in years.”

I knew he’d had a sister. I waited, unwilling to press.

“My sister… was diagnosed with cancer when I was sixteen. She was only twelve.”

I’d had no idea.

His voice quieted. “It went pretty quick, actually. She was diagnosed, went straight into treatments, and. . .” He shook his head. “That was the worst thing to watch her go through. I couldn’t do anything except be there for her as she got sicker and sicker. It only took about six months before she. . . she passed away. Only about three months before I left for college. That’s when my dad moved away. There wasn’t anything holding us together after she died.”

Only the music of my playlist issued softly from the speakers.

“Tell me about her,” I had said softly.

He blew out a breath. And he had. He’d told me about her love for volleyball and how she was so impossibly kind to everyone she’d ever met, including the doctors and nurses who’d cared for her during the worst of her sickness. He’d told me about how he’d been the one to teach her to ride a bike, and taken her for Friday night ice cream runs ever since he’d gotten his license.

He was actually smiling at her memory when my car started making noises akin to the sound a drowning cat might make.

“Shit,” I muttered.

“I’m no mechanic, but I feel like you should pull over. How old is this hunk of junk, anyways?”

“Shut up, we can’t all drive a Mercedes.” He held up his hands and followed me out of the car, despite my insistence that he should stay off his foot. In the end, I gave up on protesting because I didn’t know the first thing about cars, either.

We stood next to each other in front of the open hood a moment later.

“Do you think it’s bad?” I asked a bit stupidly.

“Typically, Feyre darling, when smoke is billowing out of your car, it’s bad.”

I whacked his arm. “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

He tugged on my ponytail. “You’re welcome, O Queen of the Stupid Question.”

“I guess I’ll call Elain. Are you ready to meet my family?”

“I’m sure they’re less crazy than you. Can’t be that bad.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Elain told me she’d be there in thirty minutes and I ventured into the gas station to buy pretzels for the thirty minute wait. I found Rhys sitting on a bench in the shadows around a corner of the building.

“Sorry this is happening,” I said, offering him the bag of pretzels.

He took a few. “No need to apologize. This is already probably one of the best Thanksgiving breaks of my life.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “Because you’re spending it with me, hmm?”

I’d expected an equally flirtatious answer.

Instead, he looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Yes.”

I blinked. And blinked again.

“Can I have some more pretzels?” He asked as though he hadn’t just made the word “yes” sound more romantic than any declaration of love in any romantic comedy ever had.

A bit stunned, I brandished the bag of pretzels in his general direction.

“Don’t go getting a big head, Feyre darling. Your company could become insufferable at any moment.”

I kept staring at him. That one word has surprised me so much, considering it didn’t mean much. Didn’t it?

He reached up and brushed a strand of my hair out of my eyes. “I am serious, you know.”

Okay so he definitely liked me. That was the conclusion my brain had drawn. It had only been a month since Tamlin. . . But Rhys was. . . Amazingly kind. And funny. And fun to be around. And he’d been there for me. I wasn’t ready for anything. I couldn’t be. A month? I could hear the team whispering “slut” and “whore” and “cheater” if word got out that I’d jumped from Tamlin to Rhys in such a short period of time. Not to mention the added drama when Rhys and Tamlin’s rivalry factored into it.

And despite the drama it could create, the fact remained that I did not want to shut Rhys down.

So I nodded. And decided to be vague. Friends first, right? “Well I don’t know if I can say that to you. . . yet.” I hoped he’d understand my meaning. “But stick with me and I promise my presence won’t become insufferable any time soon.”

His face was solemn even as he mustered up a weakly flirtatious tone. “If you say so,” he breathed.

I nodded, unable to remove my gaze from his violet eyes.

“I do,” I whispered.

The sudden honk of a very high-pitched horn made me jump.

“That’ll be Elain,” I said, still looking at him.

“Okay.” He didn’t move. Only reached up to run a finger down my cheek.

“We should go,” I said, my voice barely audible.

“Okay.”

Finally, Elain’s shout forced us to get up, throw the bag of pretzels away, and pile into the car.

I was screwed. Immensely, impossibly, royally, screwed.

79 notes · View notes

trueclors · 3 years

Text

( kim seokwoo , cis man ) have you seen choi minho ? i heard he is a volunteer at the nightowl animal shelter . they’re twenty - four years old and they’ve been living in san verto for one year . they tend to be charming and flamboyant , but rumor has it they can also be melodramatic and condescending .

well ig it is time for everyone to meet the ultimate hoe.. minho <3 no fr i swear he’s a good person deep down!! also give me all the plots cause yuh i need them , see yall in the dms >:)

。*◞ basic stats

full name: choi minho

nicknames: n/a

age: twenty four

hometown: seoul

current location: san verto

ethnicity: korean

gender: cis man

pronouns: he/him

orientation: bisexual

occupation: dance instructor/volunteer

languages spoken: korean, english

。*◞ aesthetics

strands of hair covering designer headbands , ornate ruby rings and fingers effortlessly plugging in airpods to avoid conversation

。*◞ biography

born on the 12th of february in seoul , south korea , choi minho is the elder son of kim heejin, a nurse working countless hours at a local hospital and choi yejun, a school teacher . his childhood years are uneventful and though he’s not extremely popular at school , minho isn’t an outcast either . he is more like that mysterious , consciously itroverted kid that doesn’t want to be involved in anything that could potentially distract him from his goals . problem is , he has no goals , nothing to be passionate about and school is definitely not an environment he has ambitions for . at just 4 years old and laying on his living room’s sofa , idly staring at the tv screen is when he is introduced to hip hop . immediately drawn in , a young minho asks his parents to sign him up for dancing lessons at a nearby studio , where the youngest class consists of kids bigger and older than him , but he doesn’t care .

fast foward to his 16th birthday , now fully in love with the way dancing makes him feel , when he learns that scouters from an incredibly successful american agency are in seoul for limited auditions . he takes the chance , without saying a single word to his parents , and is the only one out of thousands to succesfully pass and now comes the tough part , breaking the news . even if his parents expect that their son wants to pursue dancing , they’re infurtiated due to the fact that he now has to drop out of school and move to new york . however , the turbulence in his relationship with them doesn’t last too long , mostly because they see very clearly that he won’t back down .

a new beginning starts and parting from his parents at such a young age seems hardly bearable , but chasing his dream fuels a fire in him that will not allow any feelings of emptiness to slip through the cracks . minho trains restlessly for 3 years , at 19 years old , he starts getting his first gigs as a backup dancer and quickly works his way up to the top . he seems unstoppable ; collaborating with other artists , starring in music videos , choreographing for the biggest stars you could possibly imagine and even getting his own solo stage to perform at wembley , award shows like the grammys , vmas , etc .

just when it looks as if he’s about to reach his full potential , comes the accident . minho is backstage preparing to perform an opening routine at the bbmas , the crowd is chanting his name , he goes on stage and during the final handstand , he trips . the pain on his lower back and right leg is tremendous , yet he pulls through it . what he cannot come to terms with is making a mistake that could potentially destroy his entire career . maybe if he had slept one hour less , he could’ve practiced more , perhaps he just isn’t good enough and this is a sign that this route is not for him . all these thoughts cloud his mind on the way to the hospital , awaiting for a final verdict on his injurties .

he walks on crutches for 3 whole months and spends countless hours in therapy sessions to get himself back in shape , but he’s too humilated to step into the limelight once again . though minho hasn’t lost his confidence , the fear of history repeating itself is eminent enough for him to shy away from his previous lifestyle . after a year of supposedly processing what his next move should be , he makes the decision to isolate himself by moving to san verto and opening his own dance studio , a path that seems much safer for his future .

his popularity continues to grow through social media , his previous performances and most recently , an appearance as a judge on so you think you can dance . business is booming , but the spark he once had in him has faded and though he knows how much he misses the stage , he won’t admit and face his fears . the one good thing his new profession has brought to light is the fact that minho has never had time for himself ever since he first started dancing . he is now beginning to live his life more freely and so is conflicted , stuck between a dream career and the real life he never got to experience .

in an attempt to distract himself from all the thoughts clouding his mind , he spends most of his free time volunteering at the nightowl animal shelter . most likely doesn’t share the giving side of him with many and if ever caught red handed , he can and will pretend he’s not there to help out .

。*◞ character

minho is competitive , disciplined , passionate about what he loves , stubborn , charismatic , he can be callous with a hard exterior , sensitive and vulnerable only when he’s alone , there’s a condescending vibe to him that’s been built up to his ambition and cockiness , but can be an absolute lovebug if and when he wants ( for extremely limited audience ) . his focus has never really been in relationships , due to the hunger he had for what once was a bright career , but you would not call him inexperienced wink . can turn from min-no to min-hoe real quick , but is probably the type to never text back or ghost you after a week or two .

some random facts about him are that he has a habit of biting his lips . loves velvet jackets , but the touch of velvet mentally irritates him so much . he turns on all fans and the a / c , then covers himself with a blanket . if you reach down his pockets , you’ll probably find lip chap , kinesio tape and airpods .

he has a peanut allergy and a barely noticeable limp on weak days . mostly wears designer clothes even when dressed in sweats from top to bottom . the rest of the styling consists of headbands , ornate rings , mostly silver earrings and berets when he’s feeling them . he has a small seashell tattoo on his right side and a scar across the front of his leg due to surgery .

picked up smoking after quitting his career as a professional dancer . doesn’t drink an awful lot , but can go stupid and go crazy at parties . and last but not least , the relationship he has with his parents is pretty stereotypical , because he’s learned to dismiss any feelings of loneliness by spending a couple of hours alone at the studio .

@foolsstarters

#foolsintro #i hate him </33 #but ur obliged to love him so..

2 notes · View notes

anteroom-of-death · 4 years

Text

Life, For Dummies p6

a/n: so the words just flew out and boy. much thanks to all who read and commented and reblogged/liked! im sorry ahead of time! it will get uptempo again.optimism, babes.

You stood in the console room in wait, you had no clue the punishment that lay waiting. You didn’t know what was going to happen and that was worse than knowing. There had to be worse consequences for a consummate freak out that bordered on betrayal.

For a snap you thought of just reverting back to being her companion just to smooth things over. To stop all the madness that was bound to ensue. But you didn’t. You held your ground, despite having to run away.

You shivered involuntarily. You felt like a freezer that happened to be left open all night. You let yourself be crippled by everything. Seeing them left you blindsided, if you were a quarterback it’d have been a sack at the tenth yard line.

Did that make the Master the coach?

You ended up stripping off your blazer and leaning over the console, mildly hyperventilating. Your arms glistening with sweat in the ambient lights.

The door swung open and you hunched up. Jaw clenched your ringing in your ear came back, drowning all else out.

You swore he was speaking but your mind was so swirled with thoughts and crackles and the persistent ring you ended up trying, “Get on with it, punish me. Kill me. You know I’m no good to you now.” but it came out garbled, as if you suffered a stroke.

Maybe you did.

You started a brief list of stroke symptoms but decided, was no use. If he was going to do what you thought, he’d probably use your own laser screwdriver against you.

You suddenly remembered ages ago yourself in a similar situation. You disrespected him. You’d’ve done it three times now.

If going by the sudden need for sports metaphors you were currently riding, third strike- you’re out.

He wasn’t doing anything and that drove you absolutely insane. Clutching your sides, you spun around and met his eyes. Those eyes, so large and so beautiful and emotive were virtually unreadable. Your vision was getting blurry and your eyes started stinging. You were aghast with the day. It was a simple scheme. How could it go so wrong. You had heartburn. The acid was rising in your stomach and you tried to not hurl. The anticipation was getting to you on all levels.

You elected to allow yourself to black out. You were headed that way, so you just gave into it without a fight.

When you came to, you found yourself at your house, on your couch. Your favorite mug with your favorite tea blend was waiting for you and across the room leaning on your wall was him.

The Master. Your Master.

“Nice touch, passing out. Noble even.” His eyes yet again unreadable voids.

Your head pounded and the back of your skull was a dull pain.

You did notice and take appreciation from the pillows cupping you and your feet up.

“We need to talk.” His voice was just as unreadable as his eyes. The sentence flooded your throat and dropped into your stomach. You clenched your eyes and relaxed your jaw as you brought yourself up and cupped the mug gingerly.

“Thank you.” You gave him a meager smile in genuine thanks.

“Don’t think of it.” He waved it off.

He was uncharacteristically devoid of emotion or passion. Stoic.

You took a few sips, letting the warmth and the taste give you strength and some comfort. You had lots of experience where this was going. Why fight it? He was an ageless alien and you were a human. The fact that he gave you all you got was phenomenal.

You could feel your heart stop when you put it down. The silence was starting to get to you.

“I need some time.” He murmured, voice silky.

“How long?” You hoarsely whispered.

“No clue. I just need to process this.”

What was processing time? Feasibly for him? You could be just here for a few moments and he could have taken centuries. Or he could have taken a day or 36 hours and you could already be dead.

Maybe he was just telling you this to shake you off and stop more damage.

You wanted to fight him on it. But how? Your jaw unlocked and lay slack.

“You have a concussion. I’ve dealt with the necessary care. I put some pills that’ll take a week to heal you up properly.” He pointed towards the vicinity of your bathroom before pushing off your wall and headed towards a curio cabinet you really didn’t notice until now.

Obviously, more than a week.

“Text me?” You said.

“Maybe.” He looked at you, his eyes were big and seemed filled with nothing but agony and resolve.

You swore you saw his mouth move and a whisper of something you couldn’t make out. A different language.

He stepped in and the curio cabinet vanished from your living room.

You leaned back, the Fam mentioned that your place was dusty, but obviously he must have broken out the dust buster. That was sweet of him to take care of the place before you were unceremoniously dumped on your ass. You went for your neck. The collar that you usually stroked in times of stress was gone, along with him.

What was the date? You had no clue. Days passed, flooding into weeks. This agony of not knowing outweighed anything. You vaguely remembered the Covid-19 “shelter at home” but that was truly another life entirely.

Twenty-twenty passed on and you had to get a new job, but nothing seemed to take for you. You’d either get fired for lackadaise or not showing up or quit out of the blue because you felt deep down you deserved better. Dozens of civilizations across the stars probably still spoke of you in hushed tones as a haughty goddess, or Queen sent by the divine.

The nights were the roughest. A few times the cops were called because you were wailing in your sleep. They soon just stopped coming, unless your neighbors just accepted it as the new normal.

If you could joke, and if you were in a joking mood, you’d probably remark how this was just like Bella Swan in New Moon “sksksksksk jksk lol!” But you weren’t anymore. You weren’t in a joking mood no matter what at the time.

Life, without the Master, simply wasn’t worth living.

How could you go back? After all those stars seen? People met? And emotions felt.

You felt your heart harden and break.

You half thought of trying to push through the pain and see if you could somehow contact him. At least see if he was okay. Especially since you overheard the news at a metal bar you started working at that some strange lights followed by a subsonic explosion happened in a small city far away and there were confusing footages being leaked on social media of Daleks and death. It went away in a day, but still. You swore you heard a TARDIS in a few of the Facebook Lives people did as they died. People thought it was a hoax. People were so dumb.

It made you ache.

Maybe it was the Doctor, or the Master convincing them to go destroy somewhere more important.

It was more likely her.

You didn’t know which one would be worse, just in case more footage was released and you saw a flash of a face.

You broke again, dropping the heavy drink laden tray on the ground and locking yourself in the walk-in fridge. Rackus sobbing came out of your chest like a snarling animal. You had to get yourself together before you lost the only job you made good tips at. You knew it was purely because the uniform was trampy, and not your sparkling personality or wit. You placed your head between your thighs and screamed through it, trying to see if that would stop you from your tears. It was literally more time that had passed than you had actually ran away with him at this point.

You should have moved on. If not moved on, repress it enough to worry any mental health specialist. This wasn’t like you.

So you tried therapy.

The big mistake there was dumbing it down and humanizing the Master and the Doctor so you didn’t sound like you needed inpatient care or to go on some watchlist somewhere in the universe. Let alone your planet.

Some people somewhere might want to abduct you and harvest your organs for the residual artron energy. That could be valuable on certain markets.

Or your brainwaves. Some planets would pay rogue Time Agents to harvest them and the knowledge you knew and technology you learned.

You became more skittish when walking at night. You had gotten so used to just blasting anyone who’d try to wrong you with your screwdriver. It was a crutch you missed. Every moving shadow scared you.

You also had to consider someone, somewhere might be angry enough with him enough and see that his little human whore was no longer velcroed to his side and go look for you. Penance for his actions, delivered unto you.

Not like he would care, obviously he was far gone and far away.

Your manager came in and gave a quick look at the sight before him.

“Why are you in here? People at table 6 were complaining. Had to give them vouchers and comp their bill.”

You wiped your eyes and got out from your hutched state, “The news. So much death.” You snorted up the snot threatening to leak out.

Strange cognitive dissonance coming from someone who aided in toppling empires and had a past of executing people.

It wasn’t that, but my goodness, you had to sell it. It was a human thing to say.

“Oh, wow. I’ll give you a minute, then get back to work.” He closed the door gently and let you be.

You paced and paced and thought, “What would he do?” But all the answers involved space tech you didn’t have in a five by eight cooler. Or loud theatrics and sass.

You had none of those.

For the first time in a while, you went to your neck and rubbed at it, wishing you still belonged to him, and you knew what to do. Anger flooded through you and honestly, you didn’t know who it was directed at. The anger felt good. A blistering difference to the waves of agony and silence in you.

You bratted off and knocked down a row of premade salsas and stomped out before heading to table 6.

“Oh, so you didn’t fancy me dropping the drinks? Or whatever? You were complaining about the shape of the wings earlier? Anything else, your highnesses,“ You false curtsied before straightening out and untying your apron and tossing it on the ground, “Anything?” You spat.

They recoiled.

The paunchy middle aged man asked, “What the fucks your problem? Like, what do you want? Cause you’re definitely not getting a tip now?”

An idea shot into your brain, “What do I want?” You jabbed a finger at yourself, “I want you to kneel!” You pointed at him and made a vague “get down” gesture with your index finger.

“Kneel?”

“Kneel!” You ordered, all the chutzpah of a former self radiating through. You tossed a glass at that man’s head. It was no laser to the stomach but would do the trick. “I said, kneel for me, love.”

The blood streaming from his head as he obeyed you, his fatty neck blubbering in pain and tears streaming down his face filled you with nostalgia. It felt good to be in this position again. Someone obeying you, the fear in their eyes, the sense of power it gave you knowing that you held the keys to their fate in your hands. A small pool of wetness nearly started between your thighs. Power was just so good, and feeling the fear come to him? Icing on a perverse cake.

Him kneeling was almost as natural as it felt for you to kneel ages ago. A labored, pleased breath escaped your lungs as you smiled and let off a laugh.

You turned to your manager and gave a grimace, “I quit, I just can’t take the pressure, dock my pay for the damages. Bye.”

You grabbed your stuff from behind the bar and ran out again from yet another job.

At the back of your brain, you knew that possibly you’d go to prison for this. You assaulted a man. Out here in the real world, not the magic little world of madness, assault meant fines, sharing a prison cell with someone called Big Irma, ugly orange jumpsuits and a permanent record. Something that would prevent you from life.

Not that you had a life anymore.

You arrived home and finally allowed yourself to let out all the true amount of tears you felt. You fell asleep on the linoleum of your entrance hall waiting for the cops to show up and take you away.

You were out for over a day, you woke up so sore and dehydrated.

But the brunt of your emotions, you felt were over.

You knew you had to consolidate who you were, who you had been, and where you were now. Make yourself one person, not a section of phases altered by the presence of Time Lords.

But who were you before you’d met the Doctor and been the Master’s?

That was the hard part.

Jogging that memory up.

You massaged your temples and went over to chug water directly from the kitchen faucet.

A normal human just couldn’t force people to follow their every whim. Or flit from here or there.

Well, unless they were a politician or born to extreme wealth.

You needed to be able to hold down a job, you needed to move on. He wasn’t coming for you. You finally and truly got it through your thick, pathetic human skull…

You wiped the water off your face with your bare hands and ripped off the bar’s uniform. You hunched over in your kitchen and cursed the day you ever met either Time Lord. Cupping your face in your hand you let out another massive groan and shook yourself free.

Those topics were not to be verboten.

You had a traitorous thought, unless you worked for a government organization or paramilitary that dealt with the extraterrestrial. The job prospects for that seemed slim. You were formally in league with them. People might argue a conflict of interests or claim you were a double or triple agent. There was no true way to prove to a stupid ape that, you, another stupid ape weren’t giving off trade Earth secrets to known enemies of the planet. The list of aliens on watchlists was getting larger in the 21st century by the day. The Master definitely had to be on at least most of them. If not all. Though, the money would be quite good…

It was thought.

You were Earth-bound and just had to reintegrate. There had to be some books you could read. Life, For Dummies? Men are from Gallifrey, Women are from Earth? Something, even an obnoxious celebrity and an ill-trained life coach making a podcast on how to cope with a break up. Something.There

Easier said than done.

It had to be done, however how hard.

What a pity, what a sham.

To paraphrase a comic, you were young, shiney and dumb. Easy to fool.

You felt yourself utter, “If I ever see you again, first I’m going to kiss you, then I’m going to kick your ass.”

You pulled yourself back from those unhealthy words and bit your tongue.

This was bound to be hard.

But not impossible...

#personal #i wrote this #dhawan!master #dhawan!master x reader #master x reader #doctor who self insert fiction #angst #fanfic #self insert #the master

36 notes · View notes

saltyandsassynomad · 3 years

Text

Oh boy - I thought 2021 was going to be a “new year” but man was I wrong.

I started the year determined to make some of my dreams/passions come to fruition this year. As I’m driving down the road, heading back from my lunch break, I think to myself, “I’m MAKING this year different. I will choose to be happy and see the beauty in life. I will work hard every day to not only give Love and Light but to not dwell in the darkness. I am making my dreams come true. This year will be different.”

A split second later I hear what sounds like tin cans rattling behind my car. You know, like in the old movies when they’d tie cans to the cars of newlyweds? I pulled over only to realize that my tailpipe was the reason for the sound; she was dragging on the ground. I was in a somewhat rural area but was fairly close to the high school I was subbing at so I crept along and parked in the staff lot.

I called for roadside assistance and was told that my policy didn’t have that coverage. I was able to add the coverage but they put a five day hold on the service. Luckily this happened on a Friday. I explained this to the principal and he agreed to let me leave my car in the lot until the 6th day when I could have it towed.

Now I had to figure out how to get home as the public transit doesn’t go out that far. The closest bus stop was about a thirty minute walk so I made everything was zipped up tight and got ready to head out when the principal stopped me and told me that he would see if he could arrange a ride for me. Every school has resource officers (usually the local police or sheriff) and he was able to get one of them to drop me off at home.

Once the five day hold was up, I got up early that morning and called to have my car towed. Then came the next obstacle - getting back to my car. I had the keys and the tow truck couldn’t pick it up without them. Again - no bus. Being a substitute teacher I didn’t go back to work until late in January so I was basically off work for about a month. So needless to say, I really didn’t have the money for a taxi. I tried everything I could think of to get out there but wasn’t able to. Normally I’d walk, I like being outside, especially when it’s cold but this was too cold. It was close to 0. I had to break down and spend my last $20 to take an Uber out there.

Once the tow truck got there and loaded my car up, off we went. On the way he tells me he needs to pull over. When he comes back he tells me that my muffler and tailpipe have fallen completely off, no longer attached in any way. He drops me and all the pieces off at the shop. They are kind enough to give me a ride home.

I get a call from the shop the next morning and am given a cost of $1800 to repair it (I’m not surprised as she is over twenty years old & I don’t think she was all that well maintained). But seeing as how I have only worked three days so far this year and I only paid $800 for the car, I decline. They give me the number of someone else who might be able to do it for cheaper as he is a dedicated muffler shop. I call and explain the situation to him. He agrees to take a look at the car but won’t be able to until the following Tuesday as he is semi-retired and only works T, W, Th. I make arrangements to see him first thing the following Tuesday.

I hang up and begin getting the worst migraine I’ve had in a few weeks. I’m out for the next two days. Admittedly, I have issues with depression, anxiety, and mental health and this definitely did not help at all.

I get up bright and early the following Tuesday morning so I can hop on the bus and head to the first repair shop. As I’m stepping off the curb, I slip and go down hard. Instantly my brain starts screaming, “I BROKE MY FOOT, I BROKE MY FOOT, I BROKE MY FOOT!!!!” I’m crossing a busy street and traffic is coming so I quickly jump up and limp/hobble across the street. Knowing this isn’t good, I change direction and head to the closest ER. Five hours later, I’m sent home with crutches and numbers for two follow ups. They wanted to put me in an orthopedic boot but didn’t have my size. They didn’t see any significant breaks in my foot but thought I possibly tore a tendon or something.

It’s icy and snowy outside so the crutches were basically useless as I was on public transit but I took them anyway.

I made it home but was unable to fill the prescriptions they gave me because I wasn’t able to walk to the pharmacy. Back to bed I went with another migraine.

I wake up the next morning and hobble to the bus stop so I can get my car from shop A to shop B. It’s snowing outside but I have to leave my windows down so I can breath. If I don’t, I’ll get carbon monoxide poisoning (no muffler = no protection). Shop B tells me he can repair everything for about $650 but is unwilling to take payments so I politely thank him for taking a look and walk out to my car.

It must have been perfect timing because my insurance policy was about to expire and needed to be renewed; I have eight days left on the policy. I can’t afford to repair the car; my only option was to scrap it. There’s no point in having insurance if I don’t have a car. Grocery shopping, laundry, etc is pretty difficult when you’re on a bus so I decide to spend the next eight days getting as much as I can done before the insurance runs out. I do a major grocery shopping trip (thankfully I was approved for Food Stamps), get all the supplies I need for my furbabies, do laundry, and get appointments made for my foot.

I had two different appointments for my foot and was ultimately put in an orthopedic boot. A follow up, with additional x-rays, was scheduled for two weeks out. The x-rays didn’t reveal any signs of healing; I have bad feet to begin with and the doctor was trying to determine if the abnormalities she saw in the first x-rays were from the accident or if I was born with them. With no signs of healing that indicates I was born with them. The final prognosis was a torn tendon. But with progress being made, I was only given an additional two weeks in this super fancy boot.

Keep in mind it’s snowing and sometimes dipping below zero. Plus the sidewalks aren’t getting shoveled so I’m having to walk in the street. All while trying to keep my foot dry and warm.

I wasn’t able to sub anymore but thankfully I tutor two kids in the afternoons and that at least gives me enough to pay my phone bill.

But wait...the kid that I tutor five days a week, he fathers sends me an email that was meant for his teacher. The email goes into detail how he doesn’t think my tutoring is helping his son at all, how disappointed he is in my performance, and he wants to switch to another tutor but can’t do so until he finds a replacement. The funny part is he has said the same things about the teacher to me and I am his son's fourth tutor. The problem lies in the fact that they do NOTHING to help the kid at home, nothing! He has attention problems to begin with and he is in remote school.

Let’s not forget the father telling me that DCFS (department of child and family services) was called on him by someone from school. That’s a whole other story. Ugh!

I replied to the email and simply said, “I don’t think you intended this for me.” His response was to pay for the one day I tutored his son that week and cease all contact with me. So the main source of money that I did have is gone. I only tutor the other child two days a week. It’s better than nothing but it definitely doesn’t pay the bills.

I’ve applied at the other district right next to my house but they only have two schools in the district (it’s tiny!). I haven’t worked for them yet. It’s almost March and I’ve only worked three days this year.

So I’m basically unemployed, can’t pay rent or utilities, having a hard time getting around with a bum foot, and seriously struggling to keep my head on straight.

I see your 2020 and I raise you my 2021.

#mental health #mentalheathawareness #crazycatlady #footpain #down and out #i can do this #on my own

1 note · View note

flintsjohn · 5 years

Text

broken boards

second gift for @ohstarlings as part of the cosmic love exchange! so sorry i’m so late with this, but tumblr was being a jerk :/ this was supposed to be an animal kingdom au, but it never quite got there, so it’s more like a series of headcanons. i hope you like this, darling!! cw: mentions of drug abuse/overdose, internalized ableism, a dash of smut towards the end. alex is in recovery in this, so his mindset isn’t the best. this is the inspiration for alex’s new leg

On most days, Alex misses surfing. It’s like a dull throb in his chest, the waves calling to him as he stares at them from the porch of his house on the strand. He watches, ugly green jealousy boiling in his gut, as young guys and girls run out to the beach, boards under their arms as they laugh. He rubs at his stump angrily as he looks on, sipping on his coffee like he’s an old, bitter man, and not a 28-year-old with a successful career, a somewhat stable home, and a loving relationship. It takes all of his power not to get caught on the fact that had it not been for the accident, he would still be winning trophies surfing instead of coding and being a private consultant.

So on most days, he starts his mornings sulking at the ocean, coffee cup in hand. He hadn’t wanted to move away from Ocean Side, though Michael had suggested it. Both of their careers were here, and their family – Michael’s family, really, who’d taken Alex under their wing at fifteen when his dad had kicked him out. Still, while his body has recovered over the past six months, his mind is still struggling to cope with a loss that goes far beyond the lower part of his right leg. In one fell swoop, he’d lost half a limb, his surfing career, his passion, and damn near his relationship. He and Michael had just been too stubborn to give up on each other, in the end, but the rest was gone for good.

Alex had all but grown up with the Guerins, first as neighbours and then as an adoptive family. His dad had never approved of their lifestyle, even before he disowned Alex, which to him had been an added value to moving in with them. Plus, Mara had a habit of taking in strays her kids showed an interest in, and he and Michael had been inseparable since their first meeting at thirteen. The rest of the group had followed over the years – Maria and her mom first, through Mara and Mimi’s friendship; Liz and Rosa a couple of years later, around the time Alex moved in with the Guerins; Kyle, too, at times, though the clan had always been a little uneasy around him because of his cop family.

None of them was blind to what Mara (and later, her children) did for a living. They were all involved in it, on varying degrees, from the moment they decided to enter Mara’s home, she said. They sealed a silent pact, whether it was about feigning ignorance when the cops came around, or tipping Mara off on leads for jobs (Mimi’s job, usually, then passed on to Maria), or full on creating alibis for them (that fell on Alex and Liz, mostly because they had the closest relationship to Michael and Max, respectively). It wasn’t always a happy arrangement, that was true; there were times that had almost ripped their family apart, like when Rosa overdosed at the twins’ eighteenth birthday party and landed both herself and Isobel in rehab (at two different facilities, because Isobel had been the one to supply the drugs and both Ortecho sisters had refused to see her for a long, long time after the incident).

But they were a family, through and through. As they grew older, they refined their routine until it worked like a perfectly oiled machine. Mara passed the mantle on to her kids and set each of them up as property managers for the units they used to launder the money, while the surrounding system specialized each in their own task: Kyle, though always a little removed from the core of the family, became their trusted doctor in the city; Liz followed her scientific vocation, and used her lab as a cover for any substance or falsification they might need; Rosa provided the cars through her garage (she and Michael always took care of the mechanical side of things, and it was impossible for anyone to understand what they were talking about when they went on one of their engineering tangents); Alex got a programming degree in between competitions, and used his skills for whatever hacking, forging, or encoding the family asked for. They never got caught, because all of them treated this as their side hustle, when really their legit jobs were their side hustles, and this was the real, income-generating job.

Michael and Maria bought the bar right before the car accident that took Alex’s leg. Maria had the work experience but not the money or managing skills, so they compromised on being partners. It was the first thing Michael did for himself, 100% legit, no laundering involved, and Alex was incredibly proud of him for it, even though he wasn’t there for most of it, too busy winning tournament after tournament at the time. Still, even just hearing Michael rave about it on the phone filled Alex with pride – he knew that among the Guerin kids, Michael was the most codependent with his mom, courtesy of having drawn the short straw in the foster family department over the couple of years Mara had been in prison when Michael was about seven. He never really talked about it, and it had been way before Alex had met him, but he could read the signs. Michael loved his mother, Alex knew that, but at twenty-seven, he’d been ready to move away from the nest and make something of himself (Alex had tried pointing out that his double degree and the laboratory he kept in the basement, along with the countless published articles he had, had already been enough, but Michael wanted to have something physical to call his own, and Alex could understand that).

Then, of course, the accident ruined everything. Michael all but gave up on work to take care of Alex, which infuriated him. His bodily autonomy had always been essential to him after years of suffering his dad’s abuse. Losing his leg took that away from him for a long time, left him weak and dependent on others for even the easiest tasks. He hated it with a vengeance, and hated even more the fact that Michael took to it easily, brushing aside the fact that he gave up on his life’s work to play house with a cripple. At first, it wasn’t so bad: Alex spent most of the first month after the accident in a hospital bed, and then in rehab, and there were set visiting hours that limited Michael’s – and anyone else’s – hovering. When he was cleared to go home, though, Alex deeply regretted having given Michael a key to his apartment (not that not having it would’ve stopped him). Michael was there constantly, supposedly making himself useful and really just getting on Alex’s nerves. He was in pain and angry all the time, lashed out more often than he meant to, and damn nearly drove Michael away for good; he sure as hell broke his heart, if only because he had to witness Alex’s self-destructing tendencies.

Therapy had helped. He stubbornly refused to talk at first, throwing everything he had into physical rehabilitation and scoffing at everyone’s attempts to suggest that he had to take care of his mental health, too. Then, Cam, his physical therapist and an all-around terrifying badass, had none-too-gently told him to cut the shit and start talking to his therapist, so he had. He stormed out – or tried to – more times than he cared to admit, especially when Dr. Avila – Lupe – insisted on bringing it all the way back to his fucked up childhood, but in the end it dragged him kicking and screaming out of his destructive pit.

When his mind cleared enough to realize that being in pain and dealing with trauma wasn’t a valid excuse for being an utter asshole, he was genuinely surprised to see Michael was still there. Their relationship was in shambles, and Alex had never seen Michael so tentative around him, but he hadn’t lost him. There were several crying sessions and tense discussions before they settled, but their relationship rose from the ashes stronger than ever before.

They moved in together, purely because Michael still refused to leave his side – which still irritated Alex, but he took to rolling his eyes instead of yelling at him – and because Alex’s apartment was far from accessible for a disabled person. Their little house on the strand was perfect: it had a ramp to get to the door from the sidewalk on one side, and stairs on the other; the main part of it was a wide open space with a living room and kitchen combo; the doorways and hallways were wide enough for a wheelchair, on the rare days that Alex needed one, and were also useful for when he had to move around on two crutches. The only downside to it, really, was that it was in full view of the beach, but Alex argued that while he still hadn’t gotten over his anger and still longed to take his board out, the sound of the waves was one he couldn’t give up on.

So he sat, and stared, and drank his coffee, waiting for the moment around eight when Michael stumbled out, sleep-rumpled and rubbing at his eyes, and accepted the kiss Michael would press to his cheek or forehead. They’d sit for another while, watching walkers go by, rarely speaking, before Michael had to go get ready to head to the bar. Alex would follow more slowly, showering after Michael, getting his prosthetic on, gathering his things for work. Then, they’d either head to the bar together, Alex sitting in a corner with his laptop while Michael organized and cleaned and restocked, or Alex would head to his current consulting gig, or to Mara’s house (because for all he liked to grumble about people hovering, he didn’t like to be alone, either, and there were always people around at Mara’s).

Then, on their anniversary, their routine was disrupted by Michael waking up before Alex. He brought breakfast to bed, which Alex accepted without the usual grumble because he could recognize romance, thank you very much, and when the plates were scraped clean Michael moved the tray so that he could straddle Alex’s lap, ever so careful of his stump. Michael rode him slowly, languidly, alternating between rising up on his knees and girating his hips, Alex’s cock buried inside of him as far as it would go. All the while, their chests were pressed together, Michael’s arms firm around Alex’s shoulders, both of his hands buried in Alex’s hair. They didn’t get to do this much, these days, always too tired or in pain or just not in the mood. Alex had missed this, missed the weight of Michael’s body over him, the warmth of him, the way Michael gave himself up to pleasure entirely. After, when Alex was utterly spent and still trying to catch his breath, Michael hopped up from the bed and shyly offered Alex a box. It was his attitude, more than the gift (he had one hidden in his car, but he was waiting for dinner later to give that to Michael) that surprised him – these days, Michael was never hesitant around him, that habit forgotten, but now he was perched on the edge of the bed and fidgeting with his hands, looking entirely too bashful for someone so comfortable with being naked.

Realization dawned upon Alex when he opened the gift. It was a new prosthetic, but not like the one he already had. The foot looked similar enough, but where the pylon in his regular prosthetic was smooth, this had a hook. Alex frowned for a second, but running his hands over the covered suspension system, there was no doubt what it was: a waterproof prosthetic, with a clip to hook the leg to the surf board instead of his foot. Alex was at a loss for words while Michael nervously explained it was just a sample, he’d need to make an actual mold of his leg for it to fit properly, but it was perfectly working. He nodded along, because he didn’t really care about the mechanics of it; what mattered was that Michael had handmade this, for him, so that he would be able to surf again. As he dragged Michael to him, laughter and tears mixing as he kissed and kissed him, Alex didn’t think of the time it’d take to get used to it, or the endless amount of work he’d have to put into getting in shape again. He could only think about the fact that Michael had given surfing back to him, and goddamn him if he wasn’t going to love this man every day of his life.

#malex fic #rnm fic #cosmicloveexchange #ohstarlings #malex #roswell nm #animal kingdom au #my writing #my ficlets

88 notes · View notes

glolovescats · 4 years

Text

A story of me and my history. My experiences.

CW - trauma, sexual assault, mental health struggles (ADHD, BPD, OCPD, Depression, PTSD, Autism??), self harm, addiction, psychological abuse

I’m 27 years old, non binary, AFAB. I am the older middle child of 4, all of my siblings are brothers.

I’ve been diagnosed with ADHD, BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder), OCPD (Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder) and most recently PTSD.

My first psych evaluation was when I was 5 years old, and I have recently found the notes from that evaluation and they point to early onset BPD traits as well as ADHD. Though it is stated repeatedly throughout the notes that they could not complete a full assessment because I refused to participate in any activity or or engage with anything that I deemed “too difficult” instead spending more time on the things that I was comfortable with such as painting.

My favourite lines from the assessment are as follows:

“If she is not motivated by an activity, she trends to wander off physically and mentally. However if interested, she can concentrate for long periods of time.”

“*Deadname* was a great talker and loved to tell stories on and off topic. She had a keen sense of her own capabilities and was often self-critical of her work stating ‘it does not look good.’ It was very difficult to change her mind and she appeared to want to be in control of the situation.”

I remember after this assessment being medicated for ADHD for a few months. My parents called them my “hyper pills” because if I was hyper it meant I probably hadn’t taken them..... yikes.

After those few months, for whatever reasons my parents took me off the medication.

I have had a very intense oral fixation since a very young age, biting my nails for as long as I remember and being a thumb-sucker, not just during sleep but during awake hours as well, until I was 9 years old.

When I was 11 I began self harming, as a way to release my emotional energy and tensions and soothe myself.

When I was 13 I told my mom about my self harming, at which point she sent me to a psychiatrist again. I was again diagnosed with ADHD and put on medication, which I remained on until my second year of college when I decided I didn’t want to be medicated anymore. As a teen, I continued to self harm but hid it from my mom as she was very critical and cruel in her reactions to it. Anytime I had emotional outbursts (which was, fairly often) I would be asked “have you taken your meds today!!?” as if that would solve everything going on. I spent many hours curled up in a ball in my closet crying, sobbing, feeling like I was going to explode, then hurting myself to calm down.

When I left home for college, I developed anorexia. I stopped cutting myself, but began hitting myself repeatedly until bruises formed, then maintaining those bruises over long periods of time as a new form of self harm. It was also in this time that my love of cannabis started to really form (I had enjoyed it as well as a teen, but in limited capacities as I lived with parents who I had to hide it from, and they were quite controlling over my social life and free time)

After 2 years of college, my first queer partner, whom I still feel very fondly for and maintain a very strong friendship with, noticed not only my eating disorder but also my self harm habit, and convinced me to seek help. A few months later I went to my doctor and was diagnosed with Depression and Anxiety, and put back on medications. I was 19 then, I am 27 now and still on that same medication, though the dose has varied throughout the years depending on my emotional state.

I went through some other relationships, some healthy, some less so.

I became more and more in love with cannabis. SPending what little money I had on it. “Borrowing” some from friends and lovers. Smoking when I woke up, in the afternoon, and before bed, sometimes throughout all hours of the day.

When I was 23 I fell in love with a man named Derek. It was the first cis man I had ever truly fallen in love with, and that love became... toxic. Obsessive. At the time I would have called it passionate but I know now that it was very unhealthy. I put everything in my life aside for him. I risked pregnancy not because I wanted a child (I never have) but because I wanted to make sure he would never leave me. This is also when my love of cannabis solidified into an addiction. I was using it to cope with the pain of being so desperately in love with someone who, wasn’t very good at catering to my needs, to put it lightly. He was a dealer at the time, this was before it became legalized in Canada so dealers were still very much needed. So I always had access to it, and for free or cheap. We would wake up in the middle of the night and go smoke a couple bowls before heading back into bed. We smoked all day every day, it was what our relationship revolved around. We would also take large amounts of MDMA on the weekends and go out dancing from midnight to 8 or 9am at the after hours clubs, then go home and smoke to ease the come down. This gave me a love for MDMA which is a terrible thing for someone with low serotonin to begin with.

Nearly two years into our relationship, my friends started to notice that I wasn’t being treated well, that I was always hurting, always longing for more from him, and always pushing aside my needs to accommodate him. They begged me to leave him. I was having breakdowns, even with my antidepressants. I was self harming again. I was having rage blackouts. I was hurting. A few months later, he broke up with me. I begged him not to. I promised I could be right for him. We just had to try. He didn’t want to try.

Now, 4 years later, I’m so glad he didn’t. Yes, my heart was shattered in that moment, yes it sent me on a spiral, but I see now how toxic the relationship was and he is not anything like the person I would want to be with for life.

At that time I was living in towns on the outskirts of Toronto, but his dumping me gave me the push I needed to move to into the city, which I did, y months later. March 15th 2017. Moving to Toronto meant more freedom, more access to all the things that made me happy - a queer community, a polyam community *I discovered Polyamoury about 2 months after our breakup and realized how much I needed it*, more job opportunities, more diversity and acceptance. It also meant higher rent, higher weed prices as I was now buying from dispensaries, higher transit costs and generally higher cost of living. Some of my new friends were sex workers and it... appeared enticing for me. however I didn’t feel close enough with these friends yet to ask details about safety, vetting, standards, etc.

Well, I decided to get into sex work for myself, without really knowing what i was getting into. I’m not going to get into much detail here because my PTSD stems directly from these experiences and I don’t want to trigger myself right now. But I spent 2 years working as a Sugar Baby and Full Service Sex Worker. I did not have standards. I was driven by my need to maintain my weed habit - which was at least 2 grams/day - so on average about $600/month or more. I didn’t take safety into mind more than letting my roommate know the given name and phone number of the person I was meeting up with. This led to... a lot of fucked up situations. A lot of pain and trauma. I was constantly high, which allowed my to dissociate while these things were happening to me and suppress the memories quite quickly. By this time in my addiction, I was never NOT stoned. On top of that I would occasionally take MDMA before or during a date to maintain a peppy mood and appearance. On March 1st 2019, after realising that I wasn’t even making money off of all of it, I was driven far into debt by trying to maintain appearances and a lifestyle that i just couldn’t afford, and a realization that I was dissociating whenever I was being intimate with a client OR a friend or loved one... I decided to leave the industry. It’s been over a year now.

In the first year of my living in Toronto I saw a psychiatrist about my mental instability, my rage blackouts, my obsessiveness. I was diagnosed with BPD and put on a mood stabilizer, which I admit has helped a lot in terms of my heightened emotions and rage problems.

During those first 2 years in Toronto, I was also in a queer, polyam relationship with a person named Laurel. At first i was drawn to their softness, their creativity, their ability to be vulnerable with me and others. Eventually, that vulnerability became co dependance. They used me as a crutch, they took all of my emotional energy for themselves and never gave any in return. While I was being traumatized, I was also supporting them through their mental health struggles and ignoring my own. They had a bad habit of disregarding and stomping all over my boundaries. even after we would discuss them and i would make compromises. I was being abused by this inherently toxic person (I say that, having many friends who have witnessed and felt the toxicity from this person as well). By April 2019 I was drained, I was traumatized, I was falling into a pit and being pushed down even further by the person who claimed to love me. When I tried to set boundaries I was met with threats of suicide, manipulating me into staying with them longer. But eventually I started to see through it and I just couldn’t anymore. I ended it. Which was met with a lot of cruelty and more manipulation to the point where eventually I had to just block them from every form of contact and move on.

Throughout the year after that, my weed habit maintained, and got even more intense, going up to closer to 3 grams/day and including concentrates and edibles as well. I was always high. Always numb. I couldn’t remember anything. I couldn’t focus during conversations even if I was really interested in what we were talking about. I couldn’t stay awake, I would pass out while hanging out with friends, while on public transit, in movie theatres.. anywhere. I could hardly get out of bed in the mornings and when I did I would go straight for the bong.

I was constantly fatigued and I felt numb. I didn’t want to believe my precious cannabis could be doing this to me though, so I begged my doctor to refer me to a psych to discuss changing medications, assuming it was my meds giving me these side effects. That psychiatrist diagnosed me with OCPD, saying that he believes this is what has always caused the depression and anxiety, and he also diagnosed me with CUD - Cannabis Use Disorder - essentially a fancy way of saying I’m an addict and my drug of choice is cannabis. He told me that he would not touch my meds until I either drastically cut back my usage or stopped altogether.

I was devastated, I hated the idea of having to not smoke weed anymore. And I knew I would HAVE to stop altogether because my many many many attempts in the past to cut back were never successful. I knew then that I was an addict, just like my alcoholic father, my alcoholic and cocaine addict younger brother. I knew I had the gene too.

I discovered MA - Marijuana Anonymous, which is like AA or NA but for stoners. My dad had been sober for 11 years with the help of rehab and AA so I figured I would give it a shot. I smoked my last bowl on February 29th, I went to my first meeting on March 1st. I haven’t smoked or consumed any cannabis products since. It’s over 4 months now. I also made the conscious decision to be sober from alcohol as in the past my attempts at smoking less weed led to drinking more alcohol. I know I need to fight my addiction as an entire entity, not just as one substance.

In the past 4 months I’ve been through a lot of ups and downs. Not only with sobriety, but with the pandemic hitting Canada mid march, forcing me out of work and stuck at home, it’s had both positive and negative effects. My first month of sobriety I was fairly manic, I wasn’t as hazy and groggy and fatigued, I had also just started taking Vyvanse - a stimulant - for my ADHD. So I was very motivated and I was cleaning and creating and doing all these things I could with my free time. Then about a month and a half into it I started to get physically depressed - I say it that way because my mind felt ok. IO wasn’t having catastrophic thinking or suicidal ideation or desires to self harm - but I was feeling very avoidant and sleeping and napping so much more. Two months in, my memories that I had been suppressing with the constant high started to come through to my conscious. Sometimes they were childhood or teen memories, which I could mostly cope with. But then came the memories from the sex work. The traumatic experiences. The shame that surrounds them. I was having invasive thoughts. I would lay my head down to sleep and suddenly be in flashbacks. I had known for a long time (about a year, since leaving the industry) that I was triggered into panic attacks by intimacy and touch, but I didn’t know exactly what was causing those panic attacks. I just knew that touch made me feel so unsafe. Well, now I knew why. One night I called my sponsor, crying, stuck in a loop of flashbacks and memories and feeling like I couldn’t breathe. And then the words just flowed out of me, I said “I think maybe I have PTSD”. Luckily for me, I already had a follow up appointment with my psychiatrist scheduled for the next week. I told him everything that was happening, that I was remembering things but then getting stuck in flashbacks and shame and cycling thoughts. He then diagnosed me with PTSD. He suggested we go back up to a slightly higher dose of my antidepressant while maintaining my other medications (I’m still on the mood stabilizer and the stimulant) and urged me to find ongoing therapy. My sponsor had sent me a link to a group of psychotherapists who work on a low budget sliding scale, so I referred myself to them and within 48 hours had a free 50 minute consultation scheduled.

Where am I now?

Struggling with the invasive thoughts which make me feel depressed, but knowing where they stem from is helpful. Awaiting my therapy consultation which is in a couple of days, hoping it’s a good match and that we can start speaking weekly or every other week depending on cost.

For a while now I’ve been trying to decipher whether I really do have ADHD< BPD and OCPD all blended together, or if I’m really autistic, because so many of my traits and symptoms overlap with autism. I’m doing my research now on traits of autism and seeing where I identify. I doubt I would ever get a diagnosis, as doctors would rather believe we have all these other disorders rather than autism (stigma), but to know where I feel I fit would be helpful. I have some friends on the spectrum and I’ve reached out to them to discuss as well. My youngest bother is autistic but he really fits the “autistic teen boy” stereotypes which I do not. And I understand that autism can present very differently in different genders and different people. Personally, I believe I may be Autistic and have PTSD. But I will continue to pursue ongoing therapy, as well as DBT therapy, to address my behaviours and see where I can learn to cope better.

I am probably the most single polyam person you could meet. I have no intention of dating, though I do have a couple crushes I intend to grow strong friendships with, until I have learned to cope with the PTSD and intimacy triggers. In a way it’s as if I am currently feeling asexual, because even the thought of kissing someone I like triggers me into a panic. But I don’t believe that I will feel this way forever so I don’t use asexual as an identifier or label for myself. I am not working, though still technically employed, my job is in the travel industry and we don’t expect to have enough meaningful work to return to until at least the fall. When i do return to work I’ll be doing so remotely, as will most of the employees of our company. So I have less transit expenses, less time constraints, and more freedom to focus on myself and my personal development. I’ve made this tumblr to explore and learn more about autism in adults. As well as to have something to do and distract myself with when i start to enter a depressive cycle. SO this blog will be a mix of mental health and neuro-divergent info posts, along with cute animals, selfies, travel photos, and maybe a little shit posting - as a treat.

Welcome, and thank you for reading my story. If you have any questions or relate to any of it and want to chat, my inbox is open.

2 notes · View notes

julesthequirky · 5 years

Text

Suptober: Vices

A short drabble including the prompt: Vices

No smut, no angst, just the reader and Castiel in a will they, won’t they relationship.

A/N I just guessed with this one.

@winchester-reload (love your art)

For Castiel his only vice was humanity. For humans it wasn’t a bad thing at all, but for his heavenly brothers and sisters, it was like a sin. He was a soldier who had once commanded a garrison of angels, now he was trying to get the girl he liked. Angels weren’t made to love, they were made to shepherd, yet he found it enlightening.

God was gone. God didn’t give a damn, and he was going to live his eternal life judgement free, though he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

Upstairs his siblings wanted order.

“You know it’s wrong! If God knew- “

“Well god doesn’t, because hes gone.” Castiel interrupted Naomi, the angel currently in charge.

“And while he’s away the order remains with me, and this human, she’s making you weak. You’re weak!”

Inside he raged, the blood which was once his vessels, boiled. His heart pumped faster, and his hands curled into fists.

“She’s a crutch,” Naomi continued.

His jaw hurt from how much it was tensed.

“End it. Or I will.”

“No!”

Naomi narrowed her eyes.

“I’m warning you. This is not up for discussion.”

“No!” He was shaking now.

“Castiel- “

“She is a good human. A person who does not deserve the judgement of my brethren. Not now, not ever. She is a light in a world full of darkness and she is a joy. You may see her as a weakness, but she is not. She is the strength I need to carry on. If she is a crutch to my existence, then I will fully and happily accept the burden in my life.”

Naomi sighed, interlocking her fingers.

“I didn’t know angels could feel this way.”

“Because no one allows them to.”

Naomi thought for a second before she spoke.

“You’re clearly very passionate about this human, but I’m afraid youre not seeing the bigger picture. Castiel youre an angel, and she is a human. She won’t be around forever. Humans have very limited life spans. You will outlive her, and I shan’t say what will happen if she becomes with child as I’m sure you know.”

Castiel rolled his eyes at the last statement.

“Do you really think I care about that?”

She gave him a look, pursing her lips.

“For both our sakes, I hope you do. Do yourself a favour and return to where you belong. Help us, Castiel. We need you.”

“No. Humans may be extremely flawed in every possible way, but I vastly prefer them over my own kin.”

With that Castiel turned on his heel and began to walk away.

“Castiel, the others will hear about this.”

Castiel kept on walking away. Naomi called after him a few more times, he ignored her and continued walking through the corridors of Heaven.

He knew Naomi would most likely interfere using other angels at her dispense and he would face that when it came.

He stepped out of the heavenly portal disguised as a sandpit and left the children’s playground. Almost immediately his phone buzzed with notifications. He waited until he was in his car before fishing out his phone. He had messages from Dean, Sam and Y/N. he fired straight to the point messages for Sam and Dean but spent considerably longer on Y/N’s.

After, castiel started the drive back to the Bunker. Sometime on his drive back, he passed a flyer showcasing a drive-in theatre, which showed some film about a red car. He took a mental note of the title: Christine and continued. If his palms had the ability to sweat, they would be, for now he just felt strange.

Back at the bunker all was quiet. He checked the clock on his phone. It was late, nevertheless he headed to Y/N’s room, hoping not to bump into anyone else.

He stopped, seeing her door open. She wasn’t in. Immediately he was concerned. Had Naomi sent angels already?

“Hey loser.”

Castiel whirled round seeing Y/N in her night wear. She looked tired.

“It’s late, why are you awake?”

“I needed the restroom. I shouldn’t have drunk so much. Uh, anyway, how was it?”

Castiel sighed.

“It didn’t go well.”

He shook his head and gave a dismissive wave with his hand.

Time to buck up as Dean would say.

“That doesn’t matter. I saw a drive-in theatre showing Christine,” He saw in his peripheral vision a copy of the book on her shelf. “It’s by that author you like. We could go, do you want to?

She yawned.

“Sorry, I’m tired. Sure. Love Stephen King, why not.”

He smiled and she walked straight past him.

“Hey, Cas. I’m going to sleep now.”

He nodded. Without thinking he walked in, watching confusion cross her face and placed two fingers upon her head. She went to voice her protests, but as soon as his fingers landed on her skin, they gradually diminished.

Y/N literally fell as she became unconscious to the world. He caught her and placed her in bed. He would most likely regret that later, but for now he marvelled at the best burden in his existence.

#suptoberart2019 #suptober2019 #castiel fanfiction #castiel x reader?#will they?#won't they?#supernatural reader insert #supernatural fic

35 notes · View notes

blazerina · 5 years

Text

Do No Harm (Ethan x MC)

Summary: Ethan and Allie decided to call it quits but they’re both having trouble processing the events of the past month and what their relationship really meant to them both.

Author’s Note: An angsty piece that I’m really proud of. They’re both a mess and I LOVE IT! Thanks for reading. Please like and reblog! xoxo

Word Count: 2788

It had been a month already. One whole month since Dr. Ramsey had been reinstated at Edenbrook. One month since they decided. One month since hurt feelings and raised voices echoed inside her head every day.

She would never forget the mental image of Ethan aggressively pounding his fist against the granite bar in the kitchen, and calling out her name, after she lost her temper and slammed a glass into the sink.

Now that he was back at the hospital, it didn’t make sense for them to continue their relationship. They both agreed it was the best choice. They knew the night they spent together would result in this episode one way or another. There was no other conclusion. This was the result of their impulsive actions. Two emotional, intelligent, driven people who would only get in the way of one another if they tried to make it work.

When Ethan tore off his hospital ID and handed it to Harper Emery, announcing to the world that he was done, she never imagined that one day she would be on the receiving end of those words.

“I’m done.”

The days and weeks since “the decision” had passed quickly but also slowly. Allie’s head was foggy. Her brain felt stiff. She had been moving through quicksand for days on end and it felt as though this was becoming her new normal.

She was numb from head to toe. She had successfully shut people out; something she did best in trying times. No one knew. It was a secret only shared between her and Ethan. She was proud of that. Even though she was skilled at fooling those around her that she was okay, inside she was crumbling. She desperately wanted to ask him for forgiveness; to explain to him that she didn’t mean anything she said that night.

Allie winced as she remembered telling him that he was right, he was indeed a failure because he wasn’t even willing to try being in a real relationship. She called him a coward; reminding him he was too scared to admit he had feelings and emotions like a regular human. His pride kept him from realizing that he was fallible just like everyone else. And that was something he loathed and denied – he would never be just like everyone else.

Tonight, she knew she’d end up walking in the rain. She finished a hellishly long shift and wanted a drink. Well, more than just one if she was honest. She was desperate for the burn of alcohol down her throat and in her belly. She didn’t necessarily want to forget, but she wanted to feel good. She wanted to remember what it was like to not care about anything; even if the buzz only lasted a few hours and she felt sick the next morning. It would be worth it.

Allie exited the hospital through the ER and gave a curt wave to Rafael. It was unseasonably cool and a storm was blowing in off the coast. The dark clouds were quickly rolling in, full and round, waiting to drop rain at any moment. She shivered and pulled the collar of her fleece up around her neck. Her hair was piled high on top of her head, the silver caduceus necklace her father had given her felt like ice against the skin of her chest and neck. Her hands were shoved deep in her pockets and she whispered a prayer as she walked towards Donahue’s that for at least tonight, it would be empty.

Ethan sat at the bar staring into his glass. The liquid inside swirled around and around as he tried to decide if he should have another. This had been the first time he’d been anywhere other than the hospital or his house since saying goodbye to the only woman he ever truly loved. He thought he knew what love was before Allie came into his life, but he had been wrong before.

He knew he was in trouble the moment he saw her working with her first patient-emergency in the lobby and came to assist her. He recognized her from her application. Knew exactly who she was. He was beaming with pride in the way she handled that situation and pretty much every other case after that. It wasn’t until she sat with him after Delores passed, when she didn’t have to, that he noticed something more…

Yes he was proud of her, but he realized in his mind he was claiming her as “his.” In his thoughts, she became “his Rookie” or “my Allie.” No one knew that he had been staying well past the end of his actual shifts in order to spend time with her. He stayed so he could listen to her talk through complicated cases, and was consistently awed by her mind and how she sifted through facts to find the reasons behind a difficult diagnosis. He would conveniently lean against the wall next to the nurses’ station to overhear her encourage the staff and applaud them all for helping her with a challenging patient. In the cafeteria, he purposefully chose a seat in the back corner, by the window, so that he would be able to hear her laugh and joke with her friends.

Despite all this, he made the choice once again to pursue his true passion, medicine; the one thing he knew without a doubt he was good at.

Love?

Being in a relationship?

He knew nothing about how to be successful in those things.

But diagnosing patients?

Helping heal people?

He could do that. It wasn’t scary. He didn’t put his heart on the line with a patient. He was confident in how to handle anything that came his way inside the confines of Edenbrook.

But outside?

In the real world?

With Allie?

Thinking of being with her and her relying on him, he didn’t know what to expect in that regard.

And he didn’t want to stick around any longer to find out if he would disappoint her, let her down, or fail himself. It was easier this way. It should have never started to begin with and he’d never forgive himself for not being strong enough to stay away from her.

He somehow convinced himself that she didn’t really love him anyway. Not at least in the way he loved her. She probably only looked up to him because of what she’d read or heard…not because of who he really was. There was no possible way she could love him for him. Ethan was different than “Dr. Ramsey.” She had no idea what she would be getting into with him. He was in a way protecting her from a lifetime of regret, loneliness and heartache. She would one day thank him for making sure they could never be together.

He knew that most people would look back on the events of that night one month ago and think more about the fact that he gave up everything he’d ever wanted and needed in a partner, for a job – something he had worked his whole life for and already achieved so much success in. It wouldn’t make sense to anyone else.

The voices had started on his walk home after clocking out from his last shift. It had been a hard one, he had lost another young woman. She was a mom of three and had simply waited too late to come in and find out why she had been tired for so long. He cursed himself for not acting faster and finding a way to save her.

He was reminded yet again of how much he let people down. Years and years of experience had taught him that this was the very reason not to let people into his life. He always ended up disappointing them. He couldn’t save one of his oldest friends when she was supposed to be experiencing one of the happiest moments of her life. He couldn’t find a way to cure his role model, closest teacher and mentor. Hell, he couldn’t even lead a team of interns anymore without getting in the way.

Allie. He whispered her name out loud and closed his eyes as it passed his lips. At the mention of her name, he decided upon another drink and asked Reggie for one more.

He flinched as he remembered his last few moments alone with her. The things he said…he had not meant any of it. It was simply a method he used to push her away; wanting to make her leave. He couldn’t take seeing her in front of him any longer. He was being a jerk on purpose, hoping this would change their dynamic enough for him not to want her and vice versa.

Ethan told her that she needed to focus on her studies, and that she really wasn’t as high and mighty as she thought. That being number one was only because he vouched for her and used his political clout within the hospital, that others didn’t feel that way about her abilities. And then…

Then he told her the only reason she was still able to practice medicine was because of him. That she had relied on him from the beginning and that it was him who was able to bail her out when she had her hearing. That without him, she would be nothing. He told her it was time to learn on her own and not lean on him for everything. That he would always be her crutch if they stayed together and tried to make (whatever it was they had) work.

He'd never forget the audible gasp she released when he said those words. The sting that he could see in her eyes as she doubled over his kitchen sink, tears threatening to fall but somehow she reined them back in. It was at that moment she pushed the glass from the edge of the counter into the sink with an aggression and passion he had never seen from her. She looked up at him with those piercing green-blue eyes that he’d looked into so many times, and walked out of his life.

Lost in thought, staring at the labels lining the top of the tap, he felt a lump rising in his throat and swallowed hard as Reggie sat down his next drink with a loud thud.

“You okay?” Reggie asked, wiping his hands with a towel.

“Never been better.” Ethan smirked, cheers-ing to Reggie with his scotch and downing the drink in one smooth motion.

Allie shivered a little more as she stepped into Donahue’s, shaking off the rain. Somehow she knew when she looked up that he would be there. Ethan had not seen her yet, but a pit immediately filled her stomach when she recognized his profile, drinking a scotch as if it was a shot.

She took a deep breath and told herself he was not going to make her leave. She had managed to avoid him at the hospital, asking friends to cover any cases she’d been assigned to that required her to meet with him. She dodged him in the cafeteria by not sitting in the corner where she used to with her friends; her meals were eaten mostly alone now. She sidestepped him in the hallways, took the stairs when he was in the elevator, and turned around the other way when he was at the nurses’ station. He was NOT going to take away her night off to relax and unwind by herself at her favorite bar.

He must have felt her eyes on him because he immediately turned to face her, pausing, frozen in disbelief that she was standing there. She was still angry. She had so much she wanted to say to him, so much she wanted to prove to him. She wanted to march up to him at the bar and slap him, but something kept her grounded in that moment, also unable to move. They held eye contact with each other for what felt like an eternity, before Allie finally made the decision to settle into a booth. She made sure to choose the booth farthest from the bar and purposefully turned her back to him. She was an adult. She could do this. She had to be strong enough to not let him rattle her anymore.

As soon as she entered Donahue’s Ethan made the decision to leave. The anguish and pain he caused her was too much and he couldn’t stand to be in her presence knowing what he had done to her.

He quickly threw a few bills on the bar and stood up, adjusting his jacket and nodding to Reggie, indicating he was headed out.

Ethan always walked fast but his gait was even faster as he made his way to the entrance. He was unaware that it was raining and he slammed the front door a little harder than he intended to as he stepped out into the elements.

This is perfect. He mumbled to himself as he tucked his head and shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

He kept walking despite a number of cabs that stopped for him. Before he knew it, he had circled the block a few times in his absentmindedness. His thoughts and his heart were racing. His focus and resolve to be mad…to stay away from Allie…to not give in to her and his desire for her, were diminishing.

Impulsively, as if he was being controlled by an unseen force, he found himself standing outside Donahue’s, soaking wet, knowing Allie was inside, alone. All that stood between him and making things right, was a conversation. He could waltz in there right this instant and make her talk to him. Admit everything and beg her forgiveness.

He tried to shake away his emotions. He didn’t want them dictating his actions, but he couldn’t. Not this time. His heart was overruling his head and he didn’t like it.

When he first became a doctor he remembered part of the Hippocratic oath about doing no harm. Technically, it wasn’t in the oath itself but Banerji had told him Hippocrates had said it in some other philosophical memo of sorts that people often confused with the Hippocratic oath physicians take upon med school graduation. Ethan was always fascinated by how close the word Hippocratic was to hypocrite – and he felt it was ironic to be remembering this now, at this moment of all times.

Not until now, had it ever occurred to him that working in the field of medicine might mean doing harm to those around him and not necessarily his patients. How much longer would he allow his drive and his intense focus on his career to keep him from really living?

He clenched his fists and closed his eyes, telling himself he needed to at least say he was sorry. Sorry for hurting her. Sorry for disappointing her. Sorry for not being what she needed.

Ethan reached for the door but as he did, it opened right in front of him.

Allie opened the door, gasping for air. She had to get out of there. Her jacket felt as though it was made of lead, suffocating her with each breath. Seeing Ethan had sent her into more of a tailspin than she could have imagined. It felt as though she was coming up for air from being held underwater as she stepped out of the bar. But once again, the wind was knocked out of her when she realized she was face to face with Ethan.

Before she knew what was happening, he reached out for her, held his face in her hands and kissed her. His stubble was rough against her skin. His lips were warm and it seemed as though even his tongue was desperate; searching for any response from her. Allie could feel the emotion, the passion, the power he was conveying with this kiss that took her by surprise…but she was still, cold and numb, unbelieving.

Breathless, Ethan pulled away, still holding her face as he whispered, “Rookie…I –“

Allie gently and confidently pulled his hands away from her face and placed them at Ethan’s side.

“I’m not your Rookie, Ethan.” She replied, tersely.

“I’m Dr. Alexandra Valentine. A medical intern on the diagnostics team at Edenbrook Hospital. And if you can’t accept that, then what the hell do you think you’re doing kissing me in the rain like that?”

Without giving him time to respond, Allie proudly and confidently brushed past him, walking down the street, again in the rain. And this time, she didn’t look back.

#dr. ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #mc x ethan #blazerina babbles #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfic #i heart angst #bring it on #these two are something else #thanks for reading my ethan stuff #he's an ass but i love him

136 notes · View notes