#once I finish my coursework I’ll have more time for reading shit I actually want to read lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meltwonu · 4 years

Text

| caffeine | [chapter 4]

pairing; fratboy!wonwoo x female!reader

this chapter’s notes; daddy kink, minor dumbification, name calling(like once) but also soft wonwoo!! 🥺💕 we love soft woo in this house!! thank you for your continued patience y’all! I love u 💕 take care of yourselves, drink water 💕💕

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - x - x - x - x - x - x

For the next couple of days, you continue to text Wonwoo; somewhat shocked that he was quite responsive to your messages. Something about him struck you as the ‘left on read’ type initially, then you realized you didn’t really know much about Wonwoo in actuality.

On the flipside, you avoid the library all-together, getting your work done at home where you can actually focus and get the shit done. Also because you start to worry that people like Mingyu, who reads you like an open book, will start to take notice of your sudden frequent visits to the library that you normally only went to once in a while.

Wonwoo texts you a few times asking if you’re okay and you wonder for a second if maybe the fox-eyed fratboy actually cared about your wellbeing and you reply back each time, letting him know that you’re fine and just preferred to get work done at home for the time being.

He doesn’t ask any further.

Except this time when he texts you on a Saturday afternoon after his shift at the library, you can’t help but be curious what his intentions are. He asks you to meet him at a cafe, citing a time and location without any further instructions or details. You know for sure he doesn’t have any classes since it’s a saturday so he must be free all day. And you contemplate telling him you’re busy, but you figure it can’t hurt to see what he wants.

When you show up to the cafe on Saturday, you’re running late by a few minutes, power walking into the shop as quickly as you can while your eyes search for Wonwoo. He probably came here right after his shift, you think, fuck, I hope he wasn’t waiting long.

“Hey! Over here!”

Turning, you see him at a corner table, two drinks already present while he puts the book he was reading away. “I was kind of wondering if you weren’t going to show up.” He smiles at you kindly as you sit down and for a moment you wonder if you’re really meeting the same Wonwoo.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, I woke up late so…”

“S’okay. Happens all the time and anyway it’s Saturday so most people sleep in. Anyway, I ordered you a caramel macchiato, I didn’t really know what you wanted to be honest.” His voice turns shy, mumbling towards the end as you choke on your own spit. This could not be Wonwoo.

The Wonwoo you knew was cocky and domineering; full of mesmerizing charm and unending smirks when he fucked you. This Wonwoo in front of you matched his usual outward image; shy and reserved, avoidant eyes when you try to make eye contact.

“Oh, uh, this is fine! Thank you. I kinda realized we don’t really know much about each other, huh?” You end with an awkward laugh, picking up your cup to take a sip.

“Yeah, to be honest, that’s why I invited you out today. I thought maybe we can… get to know each other.”

“Hu--Huh? Oh, um, yeah that… would be good.”

You can’t help but blush when Wonwoo opens the door for you when you exit the cafe.

Over the approximate hour and a half there, Wonwoo tells you about himself while you tell him about yourself, learning little bits and pieces of each others’ lives. And what you learn about Wonwoo couldn’t be farther from the one you’d gotten to know between the bookshelves.

He tells you about his archeology major; eyes lighting up when he tells you about the research one of his professors had been doing. And then when he tells you about his volunteer work at the rescue center that he usually does on Saturdays, you feel your heart doing backflips in your chest. There was no way you were going to fall for a guy from SVT House. You hated that you automatically categorized him with the rest of his fraternity but there was a reason why they were notorious in the first place.

“Hey, you okay?” Wonwoo’s worried eyes meet your confused ones. “H-huh?” He leads you onto the sidewalk, hand on the small of your back as he walks with you down the street. “I was asking you if you wanted me to walk you home or if you wanted to come to the rescue center with me. We won’t be there for long but it’s… something to do, I guess. I usually go after my shift at the library and I’m usually alone but we were at the cafe for a while so...”

You try to swallow down any weird romantic feelings that threaten to bubble up, nodding your head as you send him a small smile. “Yeah, I’d love that actually. I mean, to come to the rescue center with you.”

The two of you spend the rest of the afternoon together playing with the kittens that Wonwoo had seemingly fallen in love with; watching as they followed him around while he cleaned up. You help him tidy up, only sitting down once all the chores were taken care of.

A small calico comes to sit in Wonwoo’s lap when the two of you finally get ready to leave for the day.

“She seems to like you a lot, Wonwoo. She’s been following you all day!” He laughs at your compliment, petting the cat in his lap. “Guess I just have that kinda charm, huh?” You roll your eyes, reaching into his lap to pet the, now, purring cat. “She just wants a daddy to take her home and care for her.” In a flash, you realize the fault in your wording, cheeks heating up immediately when you realize your mistake and Wonwoo’s sudden silence.

“She wants a daddy, is that what you said?” “Um, y-yeah, you know, wants… to be taken to a loving home.” “Mm. I see.”

Neither of you say any more, letting the cat get the last bit of your attention until it’s time to leave.

Wonwoo walks you back to your place after; the silence almost deafening until he stops in front of your building.

“I guess I’ll see you around then?”

“Y-yeah, I’ll, um, see you around Wonwoo. I had a nice, um, time.”

“Yeah, me too. Goodnight.”

Mingyu invites you to a study party of sorts one weekday after his morning class wraps up, promising you there’d be food if you showed up. You agree on the count of free food, but you remember halfway to the SVT House that, yes, Wonwoo lives there too.

Checking the time, you realize it’s just a bit after his shift at the library but he has afternoon classes so you breathe a sigh of relief, continuing your walk towards the frat house. Vernon meets you at the door, ushering you inside to the living room where the others were already getting started.

“Ah, there she is! My favorite nerd.”

Mingyu slams his book shut, getting up from his place on the floor to pull you into a hug. Your eyes immediately scan around the room, eyes fixated on a certain silver haired male oddly present.

“Uhh…” You freeze up in Mingyu’s hold, tentatively wrapping your arms around his midsection for a half hearted hug. “Yeah, hi…”

“Did you just ignore the fact I just called you a nerd? Are you finally accepting your true calling?” Mingyu jokingly checks your temperature, laughing as he drags you to a spot in between himself and Minghao on the floor.

“Okay, anyways weirdo, I know you haven’t formally met everyone so say hi.” You crack a tight lipped smile, introducing yourself to the others present in the room. You realize that it’s true you’d never been formally introduced to anyone in SVT House, but it made sense considering you’d either decline their party invites and the only other few times you’d seen them were in passing. You do recognize Vernon from your Film Analysis class and Jun from the Modern Architecture class you’d taken last semester. The new faces around the room were Jihoon who is a Music Technology major and Seungcheol who is a Music Business major. Wonwoo introduces himself quietly; a twinkle in his eye when he smiles at you from across the room.

After formalities are done, everyone quickly delves into actually studying and talking about their coursework; Minghao invading your personal space to ask you for your opinion on some of the pieces he’d been working on for his Abstract Art class. You give him your undivided attention, Mingyu leaning in to also give his opinion.

Seungcheol orders food at some point, notes forgotten for a little bit while everyone eats before diligently getting back to their studies.

You take in account how Wonwoo opens up to his frat brothers, laughing and playing along with their jokes the entire time.

After a while, everyone slowly disperses; some returning to their rooms and some leaving for their night classes. Wonwoo stays behind. Still reading through one of his textbooks when Minghao, the only person other than you and Wonwoo, decides to finally head back to his room.

“You… wanna stay here with Wonwoo or...?” Minghao turns to you one last time, waiting for your reply.

“Oh um, I’m just gonna finish reading this chapter and then get going?” You turn to Wonwoo who meets your eyes. “Yeah, I’ll see her to the door when she’s done. You can head back to your room, ‘Hao. I got it.”

Minghao nods, already heading towards the stairs to leave you and Wonwoo alone in the living room.

You give it a second, making sure everyone is truly out of the living room before you clear your throat.

“I thought you had afternoon classes, I was surprised you were here.” His eyes never leave his book, fingertips at the corner to flip the page.

“It was cancelled today. Thought I’d supervise their study session or else they’d just goof off. It was nice to see you today though, princess.”

Blushing, you slam your book shut on accident, placing it on the floor next to you. “Y-yeah, it was nice being here today. I’m shocked they really hit the books too. I’m so used to Mingyu missing class from his hangovers, to be honest. Who knew he could really focus when he needed to, huh?” The two of you share a laugh, already starting to tidy up.

“Um, I guess I should head out then? I don’t want to be out too late so…”

“Yeah, um, did you want me to walk you back?”

“No! Uh, I mean no it’s okay! The sun’s still out anyway and I need to run by the store so I’ll just walk back myself. Thank you though.”

Wonwoo walks you to the door, a firm hand on your waist as he escorts you. In actuality, you hadn’t seen him since the prior Saturday when he’d taken you on the little outing, which you didn’t consider a date, and even this time he hadn’t even tried to lay a finger on you. And in theory, you should have been glad at the distance but part of you genuinely missed his physical touch.

“Well, I guess… I’ll see you?” Ah, familiar words.

“Yeah, who knows, maybe I’ll actually swing by for a party if Mingyu invites me next time?” He smiles lopsidedly at you, squeezing your waist before letting go.

“Get back safely.”

“W-Wonwoo, hah, pl--please more…”

“Mm? Who’s Wonwoo? Shouldn’t you be addressing me properly? And what do you want more of, sweetheart? Use your words.”

You press the vibrator harder onto your clit, grinding into your own palm. Wonwoo watches you through the phone that’s set up haphazardly on the bed in front of you, his own hand in his sweats as he strokes his cock. “Ah, c-can I add another f--finger? P-please… daddy…”

He chuckles darkly, a soft groan on his lips after as he watches your fingers disappear into your pussy.

“Think you deserve it, baby?”

“I---I, ah, I dunno, daddy…” You let go of the vibrator, letting it fall to the bed next to you. “H-Haven’t I b-been good for you, d-daddy?”

“You have, sweetheart. My cute babygirl was so good for me. You can add another finger.”

He watches you ease in a third finger, moans spilling from your lips at the stretch. You give yourself a second to adjust to it, hips wiggling once the initial sting subsides.

“Look at you. So desperate to get your cute ‘lil pussy filled. Y’kno, you were so cute earlier. Sitting in between Minghao and Mingyu and studying like a good girl. Maybe we should try cockwarming next time, hmm? I could read you some poems while you sit on my cock.”

You moan at his words, clenching around your fingers as you thrust them in and out. “A-ah, that--that sounds n-nice...”

“Yeah? You wanna sit on daddy’s cock while I read you poems?”

“Mmhmm… Yes, daddy… w-want your cock..”

“Aww, my babygirl only knows how to take daddy’s cock, huh? Why don’t you get your vibrator for me again.” You reach for the discarded item, fingers still knuckle deep inside of your pussy as you moan out.

“W-what next, daddy?”

“What do you think, sweetheart? You get your pussy full and now you can’t even use your head? Hmm? Can’t even think straight?”

“M’sorry…”

“I want you to turn it up to the max setting and put it against your clit. Make yourself cum for me. Let me see you.”

You whimper when the harsh vibrations meet your clit, toes curling against the bedsheets. “I see your legs trying to shut, princess. Don’t make daddy angry.” Nodding, you try to keep your legs open towards your phone for Wonwoo to see, trying to watch him on the screen through bleary eyes.

“Is d-daddy gonna cum s-soon too?”

“Mmhmm, let me see you cum first, baby.”

You pump your fingers faster, using your other hand to keep the vibrator tightly pressed against your clit.

“M-my hands are gettin’ tired, daddy…”

“I don’t care. Weren’t you the one who called me? Telling me your panties were wet and you needed to get off? Begging me on the phone to help you cum?” You whine, the urge to cum rising. “Daddy, p-please keep talking to me… I’m close...”

“You like it when daddy talks to you? You’ve barely even watched me this entire time while I’ve had my hand around my cock. You’re so lost in your own pleasure, aren’t you? Fuck, I wish I was there fucking you.” Wonwoo moans, hips canting up into his own fist as he watches you. He’s close to cumming too, wanting to cum with you.

“Fuck, baby, cum for me. Cum with me.”

You cry out, body arching against the sheets when you cum. You can vaguely hear Wonwoo’s moans in the background as well, too focused on your own pleasure to fully pay attention.

The vibrator falls out of your tired hand just as you feel the air back in your lungs, slowly slipping your wet fingers from inside of you.

“Mmm, is my baby tired now?” You look at your phone through foggy eyes, shaky legs still spread wide for Wonwoo to see your glistening folds.

“Mmhmm..” You decide to give him one last show, bringing your wet fingertips to your mouth as you lick them clean.

“Fuck, you’re a filthy ‘lil slut.”

You giggle, popping the digits from your mouth.

“Yeah, but I’m your filthy ‘lil slut.”

#wonwoo smut #fratboy!wonwoo #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo imagines #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt scenarios

417 notes · View notes

solllaris · 4 years

Text

retrograde — 01

↳ here.

PAIRING: Frat!Tom / Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: It takes some convincing, but you ultimately agree to go to a frat party and are pushed out of your comfort zone in more than one way.

WARNINGS: language, underage drinking, anxiety/panic attacks, & insecure thoughts

WORDS: 5874

NOTE: This series is my baby so please be nice. The reader’s fears and anxieties are basically a reflection of my own, so posting this makes me feel super vulnerable. There were many moments I seriously considered deleting everything I had made for this series because I was too afraid to put myself out there like this, but obviously I didn’t. I really want the reader’s story to help someone or make them feel like they’re not alone because anxiety can make you feel so isolated at times. So to the person reading this right now, to the person with anxiety or depression or whatever: You are not alone. You will never be alone. And I hope this story shows you that somehow.

series masterlist — masterlist — add yourself to my taglist!

Tortoise shell glasses the color of honey inched their way down the bridge of your nose again and you would’ve been greatly annoyed if your glazed-over eyes weren’t focused on the large plastic cup of coffee on the table. Fingers still tensed and poised over the laptops keyboard, your attention had shifted for the millionth time to the dark browns streaking through the blonde colored liquid at the bottom and your fried out brain was mesmerized by it. Anything was more intriguing than the open, half-way completed book review on your computer screen where the blinking cursor taunted you from the corner of your eye. At your wits end, you turned away completely with a groan that you stifled with a hopefully motivating gulp of your iced cold brew swirled with caramel.

Shoving the frames further up your nose where they belonged, you nursed the straw of your coffee between your tongue and teeth and glanced briefly about the room. The Learning Commons was fairly full for ten in the morning, but you weren’t too surprised; it was the go-to place to go — not only to get coursework done, but also to just unwind and mess around. That Friday morning hadn’t been any different from the rest and bleary-eyed college students milled about, drinking their caffeine from the God-sent Starbucks in the building and chatting to their friends through sleepy slurs. For a person who really enjoyed people-watching, the Learning Commons was the prime place for you to spend most of your time. You blended in and fell into the shadows just as you liked.

Blinking twice, you realized you had zoned out again. Your vision focused and you saw you had been staring blankly across the room at a boy drooling all over his open textbook. His slackened grip around his mechanical pencil kept allowing it to fall over in his hand, rousing him each time for only a few seconds and then he was out cold again. The sight made you laugh under your breath and you impulsively tipped your head back onto your roommate’s thigh from where she was sprawled out on the couch behind you. Just as you wanted, Scout’s fingers that had been raking through your hair stilled to let you know you had her attention.

“Look,” You said loud enough for her to hear over the raucous youths around you and discreetly pointed across the way at the sleepy boy. “That’s about to be me if I don’t get this paper done soon, I swear to everything Holy.”

A snort exploded through her nostrils and your head jostled with the movements of her leg kicking the guy whose lap they rested in.

“Jude.”

Another harsh nudge to his thigh and the frustrated boy mashed a button on his video game controller, a ‘paused’ message appearing on the flat screen TV. A harsh, pointed look urged her to continue so he could get back to his game.

“That guy over there looks just like you.”

When you glanced back over, the drooling guy had completely given up on at least attempting to remain upright to look like he was getting work done. His cheek was smashed against the pages of his book, pushing his lips out in a pucker face, and his wrecked hair stuck up at odd angles on his forehead. An unbridled bubble of laughter threatened to come up your throat and you had managed to contain it — until a little string of drool puddled on the paper his cheek rested upon. Both you and Scout shook with the force of your giggles and you briefly found yourself thinking that it probably wasn’t that funny, but to a sleep-deprived university student it was comedic gold.

Jude must’ve shoved Scout’s legs off his lap if the loud ‘thud!’ of her feet hitting the floor beside you were any indication. They came dangerously close to knocking over your cup of caffeine — the only thing getting you through the early hours of the morning — and you were quick to snatch it up, cradling it to your chest like a protective mother. Your look of disgust towards your two friends was completely ignored, overlooked by Scout’s cry of protest and Jude’s annoyed, but slightly amused, glare at the girl.

“That’s what you made me pause my game for?” He huffed, tugging his fingers through his dark tufts of hair.

She shrugged, a shit-eating grin on her face as she plopped her warm toned legs back onto his lap. “Y/n said it first, not me.”

You were mid-sip, a mouthful of bitter coffee coating your tongue when you squealed a close-mouthed noise of protest, widened eyes flickering between your friends.

“I did not!” You cried once you’d successfully swallowed without choking. “I said that would be me if I didn’t finish my paper soon.”

“Lies,” Scout muttered.

Twisting your body to face her, the back of your hand smacked against her bare outer thigh, a loud and satisfying ‘smack!’ emitting from the harsh flesh on flesh contact. Your puppy dog eyes turned to Jude, bottom lip jutting out just slightly and he laughed, the action making his irises twinkle and scrunch closed.

“I’d never say that about you, J,” You said cutely.

He bumped his knee against your right shoulder lightly, jostling you to the side, and rolled his eyes but the tiny upwards lift to the corners of his mouth told you he was far from annoyed.

“Alright, alright, I believe you.” He groaned, quickly flicking his gaze back to the TV and unpausing his game. “Fuck you and your puppy eyes.”

Grinning triumphantly, you sipped your coffee happily and flopped back against the front of the couch. The sleeping computer screen on the coffee table immediately put a pin in your bubble of contentment, an instant frown replacing the bright smile on your lips. You set aside your half empty cup with a heavy sigh and swiped a finger along the smooth track-pad, waking it from its automatic sleep to tuck back into the four page book review for your U.S. History class. The cursor blinked approximately five or six times before you began to type, but you had barely written three words when the glass doors of the Learning Commons burst open and a group of rowdy boys piled through the entrance.

Well, you thought. Maybe just one more day of procrastinating won’t hurt.

A muffled groan sounded from Scout. “Great. Your frat brothers decided to grace us with their presence, J.”

Your fingers went slack over the lit up keys and you slouched defeatedly; at the rate you were going, the outcome of your paper was beginning to look more and more dim, but the fraternity boys couldn’t care less that some people were actually attempting to get their assignments done by their due dates. They joked and jostled each other and you kind of hoped they could feel the blazing burn of your laser-beam glare you shot their way, but their oblivious grins stuck a pin in your wishes. You watched them for a moment longer as they split off, some falling into the snack bar or coffee line while others drifted towards a vacant table or couch; you took that as your cue to pack up your things and traipse across campus to the library. (Why did you pick somewhere so loud to write a whole ass paper anyway?)

Scout managed to tear her attention from her phone long enough to notice you zipping up your bag and beginning to stand.

She quirked a perfectly shaped brow and asked, “Where are you going? It’s only 10:30; our Psych class isn’t until 12.”

“Thanks for the reminder. I wasn’t aware that the class I’ve been going to every Friday for a month now doesn’t start until 12,” You bit back with the most deadpan tone you could muster.

Jude snorted without taking his eyes off the TV, his fingers never ceasing their rapid movements between buttons on the game controller. Scout responded with a swift kick to said controller (which earned her a string of expletives as he fumbled to retrieve it off the floor) and waggled a chipped nail-polished finger at you.

“First of all, the ‘tude is not appreciated and second, both of your friends are sitting right here so my question is very valid.”

“Okay, rude.” You pouted sulkily as you gathered your hair to tie it up into a bun with the velvety pink scrunchie on your wrist. “And if you must know, I’m going to the library because it’s way too loud in here to write a paper.”

“Ugh.” Scout groaned and threw her legs off the side of the couch, rolling off onto the floor in the most ungraceful maneuver you’d ever witnessed in your life. “I guess I’ll go with you. I still haven’t finished that Biology worksheet due today.”

“Really?” You inquired absentmindedly as you fiddled with your messy bun in the reflection on your darkened phone screen. (She was taking forever and you needed something to do so you didn’t look like a complete moron.) “I finished it like the day she handed it out last week.”

You didn’t even have to look over at the caramel-skinned girl to know that she had rolled her eyes hard enough to get stuck inside her head. “Literally no one asked,” She retorted.

“Mmm, and to think I was actually going to give you all the answers..”

Just as you watched her expression morph into a sickly sweet one, a shrill whistle cut through every conversation in the room. The loud chattering of college students died down to muted whispers until the only distinguishable sounds were the whirring of the old air conditioning unit in the building and the clambering of shoes against wood; once you turned away from Scout you saw that the latter had come from a blonde boy in basketball shorts standing on a table in the center of the room. Kappa Sigma was emblazoned proudly across the chest of the scarlet colored hoodie he wore and you fought the urge to roll your eyes because of course he was in a fraternity.

The blonde frat boy’s voice faintly resonated in your ears, but you turned away from his dramatic display anyway to latch onto the sleeve of Scout’s over-sized Harvard University t-shirt. You insistently tugged on the crimson colored material because you really just wanted to get a head-start on your paper. Instead of relenting and following you, she simply shrugged you off and it was then that you got distracted with one look at a stupidly attractive guy in a stupidly, tight t-shirt.

If you had ever seen someone who was truly poured into a shirt it was this guy. The gray material was stretched taut across his pectorals and abdomen, dipping and curling into each chiseled line on his body. The stitching around the short sleeves looked two seconds away from ripping open as his biceps bulged from the way he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. You didn’t think the view could get any better until your eyes slid further up to a jawline that could probably cut straight through glass and to top it off, a head full of effortless curls—your ultimate weakness. You were pretty sure you were gaping open-mouthed at him at that point, but it wasn’t everyday that you saw a real life fucking angel on campus.

So yes, you gaped at him. Proudly.

Until you were caught...which you were seconds later.

Your heart dipped dangerously low in your chest and for a moment it felt like the warm blood in your veins had turned to ice. That feeling of sudden panic from such a cute guy looking at you prompted you to swiftly turn away; the cold you had felt literal seconds prior shifted to an uncomfortable warmth as the shock of being caught staring shifted to embarrassment. Your brain raced almost as quickly as your heart and you tried to pretend to focus on the blonde guy standing on a table to calm down, but then you made the dumb decision to sneak another peek.

Big, big mistake on your part.

Insanely hot frat guy was still looking at you. Not only was he still staring, but the beginnings of a smirk were forming on his pink lips and maybe he was not-so-subtly flexing his biceps. Seeing the corded muscles ripple and bulge under his tan skin truly was entrancing and if Scout hadn’t grabbed you by the material of your sweatshirt you would’ve stood and stared for a little bit longer.

Fingers snapped in front of your face and you blinked once, twice, three times before she really came into focus. She shot you a funny look and asked, “Seriously, what were you staring at?” She followed your gaze when your eyes instinctively shot back towards the insanely hot frat guy—who had thankfully looked away. “What is wrong with y—ohhh.”

A shit-eating grin stretched across her face and you immediately groaned. “Don’t start, okay?” You grumbled and finally managed to pull her towards the glass double doors. “He’s stupid hot and I was respectfully looking.”

Scout snorted from behind you as you held the door for her, both of you stepping outside and beginning the trek across campus to the library.

“You were point two seconds away from drooling,” She teased, bumping your arm with her elbow.

You felt the heat tickling at your cheeks and ears again, so you quickly changed the subject.

“Anyway,” You said pointedly, shooting her a look that could kill. “What was that whole ‘getting on the table’ display about?”

“Right. I forgot you were a little... preoccupied.” She smirked and dodged your incoming fist, giggling like a maniac. “Okay, okay! There’s a party at the Kappa Sigma house tonight.”

Scrunching your nose up at the mention of a party, you tossed your empty cup of iced coffee in a trash bin as you passed.

“Well, I have a hot date with Doctor McDreamy and I can’t miss it. You know how much I love me some Derek Shepherd.”

Just as you reached for the door handle to the library, she smacked your hand away with a serious expression.

“C’mon!” She whined, her bottom lip jutting out like a child. “You’ve never been to a party with me. It’ll be fun!”

“My definition of ‘fun’ is very different from yours, Scout.”

A sly smile turned her full lips upwards again. “Tom will be there…”

Your brows furrowed as you wracked your brain to put a name to a face. Tom. Did you know a Tom?

“Um. Am I supposed to know who that is?” You asked cluelessly.

Scout groaned. “Tom Holland. The guy you were ogling in the LC,” She explained with a ‘duh’ tone in her voice.

Absentmindedly you fiddled with the strap of your shoulder bag. You were already growing tired of the conversation and wished she’d just drop it; if anyone knew your anxiety situation, it was her and you thought she’d learned by now that you would never set foot in a party. Attending a frat party of all things was sure to bring on a panic attack and you’d rather not hyperventilate in front of a bunch of testosterone-filled college guys. No way in hell.

Exhaling an exasperated sigh, you shifted on your feet tiredly and let your head fall back towards the sky.

“Is that supposed to convince me?” You shifted around your friend and managed to snag the door open before she could stop you. “Because it’s not working.”

Save for a girl lightly snoring on one of the couches and a guy wearing glasses slaving over his keyboard, the library was practically barren. You immediately felt comforted as you traipsed along the outskirts of the large room, like a warm hug after coming home from a long day; except it was barely after eleven in the morning and you were ashamed to admit that you already needed comforting. Whilst another large exhale huffed past your lips at the thought, you dropped your bag down on the worn cushions of a couch pushed under a window and plopped yourself next to it rather ungracefully.

A rather loud thump resounded through the room as Scout carelessly deposited her own things on the floor by a comfortable looking arm chair; she simply shrugged at your warning glance, mumbling “those two are dead to the world anyway” under her breath and turned to pull a black binder from her backpack.

Soon, the silence between you two was filled with the clicking of your fingers across the keys on your laptop and the scratching of her mechanical pencil on paper. It was nice—relaxing even—and you sunk further into the soft couch that hugged your body, your mind only filled with the words you needed to get down to finish your stupid book review.

What kind of history class has to write a book review anyway? This wasn’t English.

You should’ve known it wouldn’t last.

A small wad of balled up notebook paper hit your left cheek, bouncing off and into the crack between the cushions. Before you could retort, she was already whispering vehemently.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the party.” She stabbed her pencil in your direction as she spoke. “You’re going. Plus, I’ll be with you the whole night. Promise.”

Arguing with Scout was like arguing with a brick wall—pointless and you’d never win and you honestly just wanted her to shut up at this point; so even though the idea of standing in the Kappa Sigma frat house while the plaster walls vibrated and bodies jostled around you almost made you want to throw up, you reluctantly agreed to go with her. You tried to convince yourself it wouldn’t be so bad, that your best friend would be at your side the entire night, but you still couldn’t shake the butterflies in your belly the entire day.

Just as you’d expected, you were pretty sure you were this close to blowing chunks in Kappa Sigma’s bushes.

The lawn was crawling with college students bearing drinks and you were thrown into the middle of them, one hand clasped in Scout’s as she led you up to the porch and the other anxiously fiddling with the hem of your gingham printed shorts. You were hyper aware of everything happening around you: knocking shoulders with a short, blonde girl, the loud shouts over a game of flip cup, the bass of the song playing in your chest, and a putrid, skunk-like smell that caught in your lungs no matter what you did. Already you wanted to leave, but one look at your best friend’s excited face had you willing yourself to suck it up and try to have fun.

Clutching onto Scout’s hand like it was your only lifeline, she guided you through the foyer and an expansive dining room before reaching the kitchen and the pressure in your chest lifted enough to calm your racing heart; it was significantly less crowded, only inhabited by a small group of girls and a guy with his head stuck in the refrigerator. You watched as Scout paid none of them any mind and instead helped herself to two red solo cups, pointing the nozzle to the keg in one and letting it fill with the sepia toned beer before doing the same with the other cup.

You had just opened your mouth to protest, but the look she shot you had the words dying in your throat.

“Just trust me, alright?” She said and you let her shove the full cup into your hand. “It’ll help with your nerves.”

For a brief second your gaze flickered to the group of three girls seated at the kitchen island, all huddled together and speaking in low tones. It made your skin prickle and heat up and you wondered if they were talking about you—how out of place you seemed.

The white brim of your cup slotted between your glossed-up lips and you took a hefty swig. You immediately scrunched your face up in disgust at the bitter, watery taste of the ale but you were willing to down it if it drowned out your impending anxiety for the night.

“Ugh.” You cringed and peered at the frothy beer in distaste. “How do you drink this shit?”

Scout just grinned and raised her beer in the air.

“Cheers bitch,” She hummed and downed a gulp big enough to puff out her cheeks with the liquid. “Now drink up.”

So, you did cautiously while she retrieved her phone from her back pocket; you distantly heard her say the words “text” and “Jude” but you were more focused on the guy leaning against the counter a few steps away. It was the same guy who’d been rummaging in the fridge when you came in and it appeared he’d found what he wanted: a bottle of Michelob Ultra that he held by the neck. His other hand was occupied by his phone, his head tilted downwards as he scrolled with his thumb, but then he tipped it back to sip his drink and your heart plummeted.

You wasted no time grabbing Scout by her bicep to get her attention.

“Don’t look now but super hot frat guy, Tom, is literally right there,” You whispered frantically through gritted teeth and tugged her towards the exit.

Of course, she resisted. The “don’t look now” part of your sentence slipped in one ear and out the other because she turned back to glance at him with the subtlety of a hand grenade. Her small squeal had you yanking her back around, your stomach rolling with enough nerves to make you vomit for real this time.

“I literally just said—”

Just after the words left your mouth, Jude sauntered into the kitchen, loudly exclaiming: “Tom, man, how long does it take to get a drink?” Then, his six-foot-three hulking physique lumbered towards you and Scout—which effectively made Tom’s dark brown irises lock onto you. “And why have you guys not answered my texts? We’re about to start another round of flip cup.”

Recognition flashed in his eyes and you wished you were dead. You knew you should’ve stayed in the safety of your dorm with Meredith Grey and Derek Shepherd. Why didn’t you?

Maybe it was because you were the biggest pushover on campus?

Yeah, that had to be it.

“Sorry, mate.” Tom didn’t glance away from you as he spoke. You noticed a smirk playing at his thin lips before it was covered by the open top of his beer bottle when he took a drag. “I guess I got a little... distracted.”

His little jab at you didn’t go unnoticed.

Yep, he definitely recognized you from earlier in the day when you practically undressed him.

Deep down you knew he was just messing with you, but you couldn’t help feeling humiliated—like you were the center of a joke and not the kind of joke where he was laughing with you; suddenly overcome with a need to escape, you ignored his remark and turned to Scout and Jude instead.

“Hey, I think I’m gonna go to the bathroom or step outside really quick.”

You barely heard her concerned voice asking if you wanted her to come with you before you were high-tailing it out of the room and up the dark wooden stairs in the foyer. You took them two at a time and in your haste to ascend them, the smelly beer in your still-full-to-the-brim cup sloshed over the rim and saturated the front of your black shirt and flowy shorts. Your face contorted in discomfort at the feeling of your wet clothes sticking to your skin as you slowed down, reaching the top floor at a more careful pace. The paranoid feeling that everyone was watching you make a fool of yourself began to set in and just as your breathing started to escalate, you ducked into the first bedroom you saw and quickly shut it with a click.

Absentmindedly, you sat your now half empty beer cup on the dresser by the door and slumped back against the wood. The cold doorknob pressed into the bottom of your spine but you didn’t care because all you could think about was the soaked fabric clinging to your front, Tom’s subtle mocking comment, and the feeling you’d felt coming up the steps.

In the back of your mind you knew how dramatic and blown out of proportion you were acting; your anxiety, however, didn’t get the memo. So there you were, panting and quivering in some random frat guy’s room with tears pooling at your lash line. You were beginning to feel nauseous lurches in your stomach and all you wanted was to go home.

You’d never wanted to be here in the first place.

An uncomfortable warmth bloomed in your chest around your heart—a feeling you were all too familiar with. If you had to guess, you assumed it was the way a heart attack might feel. You were panicking for absolutely no reason at all and all that you knew was that you needed to get out of here.

With shaky hands, you pulled your phone out of your bra and wiped away the sticky residue from the beer before composing a new text to Scout.

Sent at 11:33 PM: i feel sick. i think i’m gonna head back to our dorm

Then, feeling inexplicably guilty for not even trying, you typed again as your tears left splotches on your screen.

Sent at 11:33 PM: i’m really sorry

The click of your phone locking sounded like a blaring horn to your over-sensitized body and you slumped tiredly into a desk chair, shoving your phone somewhere on the desk carelessly. You were still shaking and you didn’t know if you were cold or hot and bile had started to burn your throat and in your hazy mind you swore you heard the doorknob turning but who knows?

“Uh, what the fuck are you doing in my room?”

If you thought you were going to throw up before then you definitely were now.

You grabbed the trash bin beside the desk and hung your head over it, the contents of the day emptying from your anxious stomach.

“Christ,” The guy grumbled in annoyance. Didn’t you know that voice from somewhere? “Of course. A drunk girl chooses my room to throw up in out of all the fuckin’ other rooms in this house.”

Shame crept up your neck and made you feel even hotter than you already were. You felt like such a mess—you reeked of alcohol, your hair was damp from a cold-sweat, and a stranger had just witnessed you puking your guts out. Great.

You couldn’t speak. All you could do was take shaky, staggered breaths and sniffle through your tears but you did manage to see who the mean guy in the room with you was. Just as your luck would have it, the guy whose bedroom you’d taken hostage in was none other than Tom Holland.

Your stomach twisted and again you ducked your head back in the bin to puke some more.

“Look. I’m sorry you feel like shit and drank too much but you’ve gotta get outta here.” You felt his large, strong hand curl around your bare bicep to tug you up out of his chair. “C’mon. Time to go.”

It was at that moment Tom finally noticed three things: that you were the girl from earlier in the LC, then again in the frat’s kitchen, that you were shaking like a leaf against him, and that you were struggling to breathe normally. It was clear to him you weren’t throwing up because you were drunk; you were throwing up because you were having a full-blown panic attack.

In his bedroom.

And he’d been nothing but a dick to you so far.

“Woah, hey, hey,” He murmured softly, his voice taking on a much gentler tone. Delicately, he brushed the sweaty hair from your warm cheeks and allowed one of his palms to meet the small of your back. “It’s okay. You’re alright, darlin’.”

You focused all your attention on the quiet hum of his voice in your right ear and the silver cross necklace rising and falling on his chest with each breath. You tried to sync your breaths with his even, steady ones and although it took awhile, you managed to calm yourself down to a non-hysterical state.

Tom’s fingers, however, never faltered in their dance along your spine. “Good girl,” He hummed soothingly.

Tingles tickled at each of your vertebrae.

Good girl. Was he trying to kill you?

Clearing your throat, you set the trash bin beside the desk where it lived and stood up to move closer to the door and away from Tom. You were pretty sure you’d embarrassed yourself in front of a hot guy enough for one day and didn’t want to do anything rash...like jump his bones for calling you a good girl.

You felt yourself getting hot again.

“I’m sorry.” You fiddled with the damp hem of your shirt, unable to meet his gaze. “I just...needed some air and then I spilt beer all over myself and—yeah.”

“Hey, it’s alright.” He shrugged like a girl having a panic attack in his room was normal, then gestured to your ruined outfit. “I’ve got some stuff you can borrow if you want.”

“Oh! No, it’s okay, really—”

“C’mon. That can’t be comfortable,” He said with a raised brow. He was already rummaging through his dresser drawers before you could protest anymore. “Let me help you out, alright? I’ve already been the biggest dick to you tonight.”

You couldn’t argue with that, so you took the clean clothes from his outstretched hand and sent him an awkward smile.

“Thanks. I’ll, um, get these back to you. Sometime.”

He grinned at how awkward and fumbly you were. It was cute. He liked that he was the cause of it.

“Sounds like a pretty good plan to me,” He agreed cheekily, unable to hide the smile on his lips. “Gives me an excuse to see you again, huh, darlin’?”

Oh.

This boy was definitely trying to make you explode and you were two seconds away from doing so, sweat pooling even quicker in areas you didn’t even want to fathom.

Thankfully, before you had the chance to embarrass yourself any further, Tom turned his back on you, chuckling lowly under his breath and urged you to get changed.

As you toed out of your high-tops and peeled your sticky, black shirt from your torso, your attention wavered just as you reached for his heather grey t-shirt. You distractedly grasped the soft material to put it on, but you were too entranced by Tom’s back muscles through his own shirt to follow through.

The fabric was stretched taut over the expanse of his broad shoulders and every little movement allowed you to see the rippling muscle that was underneath it. Your fingers itched to slip under his shirt and feel his toned back for yourself, to lightly dig your n—

“Jude said your friend is waitin’ for you on the porch.” His English twang had you throwing the clean clothes on hastily before he turned back around. “I’ll walk you down.”

All you wanted was to get out of this frat house and into your shower as quickly as possible so you agreed even though you felt like your insides were on fire.

You gathered your dirty clothes and hooked your fingertips into the canvas backs of your shoes before you were ushered out into the corridor. The party seemed to have thinned out a considerable amount with only the occasional person loitering about on the second floor; the thought of someone seeing you with Tom’s baggy clothes on made your cheeks flush and you tilted your head down towards the floor, avoiding anyone’s curious eye. To your anxious mind, it felt like everyone was watching you and Tom descend the grand stairs in the fraternity’s house so you held your gaze with the dark hardwood floor the entire trek to the porch.

His warm palm met the small of your back for the second time that night and you cautiously glanced up into his dark brown irises. You were surprised to see the incredibly soft edge they had taken on and even more surprised by the way your spine instinctively arched against his hand.

A guy had never touched you like this before—it felt intimate and tender and you were a stranger to it.

“Hey.” He had to stoop down towards your ear so you could hear him over the still-blaring music. His breath tickled your neck and his bottom lip brushed the tip of your ear. You couldn’t stop from shivering. “Are you alright?”

No, you weren’t. He was really, really close and your heart was beating dangerously fast again.

“Yeah,” You breathed in reassurance, pushing what you hoped was a convincing smile. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

He didn’t look completely convinced. However, he didn’t push the subject further and you were grateful.

“Alright.” He nodded and it was silent for a split second until you both reached the front door. “You look beautiful in my clothes by the way.”

And then Tom was pushing open the door and there on the porch like he said was a worried Scout. Thankfully, she was way too preoccupied with hurtling questions of “are you okay?” and “what happened?” for her to notice the way your skin was flushed and how you couldn’t quite look anyone in the eye.

The weight of the fingers splayed along the base of your spine disappeared as Scout swept you away from Tom and into her crushing embrace.

“Oh my God!” She shrieked as she hugged you to her, your bundle of clothes and shoes between you digging into your stomach. “You scared the hell out of me. Did you fall in the toilet or something?”

For the first time in what felt like forever, a small snort of a laugh left your throat.

“I’m fine,” You reassured and tangled your digits with hers, tugging her down the porch stairs with you. “And no, I didn’t ‘fall in the toilet.’ I just want to go home and drown myself in the shower.”

“Good. You smell like shit.” Her nose wrinkled. “And please enlighten me on how you ended up in Tom fucking Holland’s bedroom.”

You laughed again and spared a glance over your shoulder.

Tom still stood on the porch, readjusting his backwards hat over his brunette curls. You caught the little smirk on his lips and you swore he winked before Scout was tugging you further up the sidewalk and you were forced to turn back around.

Every inch of your body tingled.

It wasn’t until you stood under the shower head’s chilly spray of water back in your residence hall that you realized you’d left your phone in Tom’s room.

TOM TAGLIST:

@xoxohollands ♡ @outshineallthestars ♡ @pcterparxer ♡ @worldoftom ♡

RETROGRADE ONLY TAGLIST:

@softholand ♡ @sushiinmidnight ♡ @stuckonspidey ♡

54 notes · View notes

carryonsimoncarryonbaz · 4 years

Text

Little Secrets

for @nightimedreamersworld from the prompt list and tags you posted. Thanks to @ninemagicks for leading the way.

From a tumblr prompt list by @mraculous and sent to the Carry On fandom by @nightimedreamersworld : ‘a mutual friend tried to introduce us, but we already knew each other from LARPing but we’re both too embarrassed to admit that so I jokingly said we used to date and oh god now our friend won’t stop interrogating us about it’ AU

Little Secrets, a Snowbaz LARPing AU (2774 words)

Simon

“Do you want to come over Friday? I can order in curry and I’ll even watch that Netflix thing you’re obsessed with, if you like,” Penny says, before taking another bite of her sandwich. I’ve already finished mine but I take the chance to steal one of her crisps. She never finishes them. I hate seeing them go to waste.

No one should ever bin salt and vinegar crisps. It’s a crime against humanity.

It’s been harder to coordinate our schedules this term. Even meeting for lunch is a treat. We’ve not had a night in for weeks. It’s not as easy, now that we don’t live together.

And it’s not often that Penny offers to let me decide what we watch. Says she’s got standards and I watch too much “brain numbing rot.”

Castlevania is not rot. It’s fucking brilliant. My costume for this campaign is based on Trevor Belmont. It’s wicked good.

I’m gutted to have to turn her down though. Friday’s going to have to be a no. We’ve been gearing up for this campaign for weeks and I can’t miss it.

“I’m sorry. I can’t Friday.”

Penny looks at me over the top of her glasses. “Why not?”

She doesn’t know about this. About the LARP club I joined. It’s something I started doing over the summer, when she was away in India with her family.

I was bored. And lonely.

I don’t know why I haven’t mentioned it. It’s not that I’m embarrassed about it. I’m not. It’s a hell of a lot of fun swinging a sword around and taking part in campaigns. Even the costume workshops are entertaining.

Everyone’s so friendly. Well, most of them are, at any rate.

Penny tends to frown upon things like this. Things that don’t serve a purpose. Making new friends doesn’t count as serving a purpose. She’s told me more than once that having too many friends is an unnecessary burden. “There’s only so many hours in a day, Simon. Two, three people, that’s all any of us have time for.”

That’s all Penny has time for. I’m lucky to be one of her three people.

Telling her I’m spending two nights a week LARPing with near strangers while dressed as a medieval monster hunter likely won’t go over too well.

Especially as that amounts to two nights a week I’m not doing my coursework or revising. Sacrilege.

“Uh. I’ve got . . . uh, there’s a study group.”

“On a Friday night?” Her eyes widen.

“Yes.” The shorter the answer the better with Penny. I can’t get caught in a lie if I’m barely saying anything.

“For which class?”

Fuck it all. I can feel my leg starting to jiggle. She’ll know the gig is up if I don’t answer soon.

“Medieval Literature.” Thank fuck I’m actually taking that class this semester or she’d be onto me.

It’s not that far off, anyway. Most of the costumes qualify as Medieval.

“Dedicated lot.”

“Quite.”

“It’s good to see you being so devoted to your studies, Simon, what with applications for graduate programs coming up.”

As if I needed the reminder.

“Maybe we can try to find some time next week, then.”

“That’d be great.” I reach out to steal another crisp. She smacks my hand away. “I do miss you, Pen.”

Penny pushes the bag of crisps over to me with a sigh, but she’s smiling. “I miss you too, Si.”

It’s not until the next week that we manage to make plans. And it’s not for curry and Netflix.

We’re at Foyles, having spent the last hour listening to one of Penny’s favorite poets do a reading and a Q & A. Penny’s dead gone for Nikita Gill. I thought it was mostly because she’s a femininst and Indian but I see the point, now that I’ve heard her read from her latest book. She’s brilliant.

Penny’s in line to get her book signed and I’m just sort of shuffling along with her, feeling like a bit of a tit, seeing as I’ve not got a book myself.

Should I? I feel I ought to at least have something, but it’s too late now, we’re almost to the signing table.

Predictably, Penny gets into an intense conversation with the author while I stand there, shifting from foot to foot uncomfortably and nodding every so often. The store clerk finally gets Penny to shove off. She drags it out for another minute and then we’re finally clear of that scene.

I’m ready to head to the pub for a bite, but Penny stops down the line to talk to someone from her seminar and I’m left at loose ends again. It’s mostly uni types in the crowd, nearly all of them intense and bright eyed as they talk over each other now and indulge in some excitable hand waving. There’re a few blokes here and there, moody looking types with man-buns, horn rimmed glasses, and oversized jumpers. I recognize one or two from my classes but no one I know well.

Penny stops to talk to another person and I’m in despair over dinner. I wander over to a book display and idly flip through some paperbacks as I wait for her. Thankfully it’s not more than a few minutes later when I hear her call out to me. “Simon!”

I trot over, more than ready to make a run for the pub but her first words aren’t “let’s get out of here.”

“Si, I want you to meet my friend.”

Oh, fuck. We’re never going to get to the pub at this rate. I plaster a smile on my face and turn to say ‘ hello’ to whoever it is Penny is bound and determined to have me meet.

And I freeze.

“This is Baz. He’s in my Modern British Poets seminar and he’s almost as keen about vampire lore as you are.”

I raise my eyes and meet Baz’s cool stare, that one eyebrow of his arched as he meets my gaze.

Fuck. I don’t need to be introduced to Baz. I know Baz. He’s the Mage in our campaign. He’s a fucking ruthless one too, dead brill with his spells, even though he’s a bit shit when he’s got to do any swordwork.

That was my main job on the summer campaign--give him cover so he could cast his spells and decipher his runes and whatever else it is that Mages do.

I’m front line offense now--cut down anyone in my path, long before they can get near the rest of our party. It’s up to Gareth and Niall to have Baz’s back this time around.

I can’t very well pretend I don’t know him, but I really don’t want to be explaining that I’m in a LARP club to Penny in the middle of this bookstore, not in front of Baz.

Fuck.

I give Baz a pleading look which I’m sure only confuses him, based on the way his eyebrow arches up even more. I don’t know how to convey “don’t tell Penny you know me from the Dragonknight campaign” with just my eyes.

“I’m well acquainted with Simon, Bunce.”

I am well and truly fucked.

“You two know each other?” Penny gives me a penetrating look.

Baz keeps talking. “Yes, we’ve been--” but I interrupt him before he can say anything more.

“He’s my ex.”

I have literally no idea why I said that. And there’s no taking it back, now that it’s out there.

Two sets of eyes goggle at me, both of Baz’s eyebrows reaching for his hairline now. Penny looks scandalized.

“Your what?” she asks.

“My ex-boyfriend,” I clarify, literally begging Baz to go along with this with my eyes. I probably look like a gormless twat. Just go along with it, I try to broadcast that thought across the two feet of space between us.

“Your ex-boyfriend,” Penny says flatly. “How do I not know about this, Simon?”

Baz looks just as curious, but thank Christ he doesn’t say anything.

“Oh, you now, summer romance, short-lived fling, gone but not forgotten.” I’m literally babbling.

“Very short lived,” Baz says drily. “So short lived I’d be surprised if he had mentioned it, Bunce.” He’s smirking, the smug bastard. Arms crossed over his chest, that one fucking eyebrow mocking me now.

“Yes, ah, you know, summer.”

“I’d say I don’t know at all, Simon.” Penny’s looking between us, a suspicious look on her face. “Why don’t you fill me in. I’d love to hear about my best friend and my study partner getting together and me being none the wiser.”

Baz is full on grinning now. “Yes, why don’t you tell her, Simon? Unless you’d rather I did?”

I think the fuck not.

“Ah. Well. You know we met . . . ah . . . at the library.”

“What on earth were you doing at the library?”

What the fuck was I doing at the library? I never go to the library and Penny knows that.

Fuck.

“Wasn’t that when your laptop was being wonky?” Baz chimes in.

I scowl at him. Only one of us needs to be fabricating this tale and that someone is me.

“At least that’s what I remember you saying, when you came in that night.”

Bloody hell.

“Uh, yeah. That’s what it was. Had to come in and do a lit search on premises.”

“It’s a good thing I was working the desk that night,” Baz says, uncrossing his arms and sliding his hands into his jeans pockets.

My eyes follow his hands down and keep going.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen Baz in jeans before. Tunics? Yes. Majestic robes? Yes.

Elegant, fitted jeans that are snug all the right spots? Well, I’d remember seeing that before, is all I’m saying.

I drag my eyes back up to his face. “Uh, yes, um, good thing.”

I didn’t know he worked at the library.

“Simon came in, just before closing time, with the idea that he was going to do a search and print it all out in mere minutes.” He’s really warming to the subject and I’ve lost control of this whole situation.

“Typical,” Penny says and I’m outraged.

“What?” I sputter.

She nods her head at Baz. “He gave you those puppy dog eyes and that crooked little smile of his, didn't he?”

“Now, see here, I’m the one telling the story and–”

But Baz steamrolls right over me. “Oh, you know he did, Bunce.” He gives me a fond look that makes my face heat up.

What’s he playing at? I rub at the back of my neck, feel the clammy sweat starting to form there.

“Got you to do the whole thing for him, didn’t he?”

This is pure slander. I’m not going to stand for this.

“I couldn’t resist his roguish charm.”

“Listen, now--”

Baz just keeps talking. “I had no idea he was such a shameless flirt.” He shakes his head at me and actually manages to look almost mournful, the lying bastard. “Charmed me, wined me, dined me. But once his laptop was functional and the research project complete, just a few short weeks later, he dumped me without a second thought.”

“Simon!” Penny’s glaring at me now. She’s bought his whole fabrication and I’ve got no one but myself to blame for this farce.

“Just wait a bloody minute!” I yelp.

Baz hunches his shoulders and lowers his head. “By text, no less.”

“Really, Simon, how could you?” Penny’s all righteous indignation, her hand coming to rest on Baz’s arm, eyes blazing as she rakes her gaze over me. “I go away for a few weeks and you not only manage to seduce my friend but then unceremoniously dump him by text? You know better than that. You were a bloody wreck when Agatha did that to you!”

And now she’s airing my entire sordid dating history to Baz in the middle of a bloody Foyles on a Thursday night and I’ve not even had dinner. This takes the biscuit, I swear to god.

“Penny, listen, it was nothing like that, really, I swear.”

She’s got her arms crossed over her chest. “Then how was it, Simon?” Cold as ice. You’d think Baz was her best friend and confidant, not me.

This is a fucking disaster. I’d have been better off telling her about the LARPing.

I am going to tell her about the LARPing. It’s the only way out of this mess.

“Listen, Pen, I’m sorry. I thought you’d be upset I was wasting my time--”

“Wasting your time?” Baz interrupts. “Is that what you’re calling our two weeks, then?”

“That’s not what I meant!” I’m going to let a berserker just go by me and wreck Baz this week, I swear I am. Won’t even brandish my sword at him, I’ll just point him in Baz’s direction. It’d serve the bastard right. “Listen, Penny, I was going to tell you, but I was a bit embarrassed--”

“As well you should be, the way you behaved.” Penny interrupts me this time and I have reached my fucking limit.

“Would the two of you let me finish one bloody sentence?”

Two expectant faces meet mine but I swear there’s a glint in Baz’s eyes and his lips quirk like he’s trying to keep himself from laughing. Arsehole. I may go after him myself this week, if he’s not careful. Go rogue. It’d be worth it, just to wipe the smug look off his face.

He’s got his hair down tonight. I don’t know why I didn’t notice that earlier. He’s usually got it up when we’re–fucking hell, why am I thinking about his hair right now?

“Ok, so let me finish what I’ve got to say or I swear to Christ I am going to go off.” Baz inclines his head and waves a hand at me in a ‘have at it’ gesture. Penny frowns but holds her tongue. “So, while you were gone this summer I got a bit caught up in LARPing.”

“You did what?” Penny asks.

“LARPing. Live action role play.”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t know. For something to do.”

“And why are you telling me this now?”

I pull at my hair and groan. “Because that’s how I met Baz. He’s not my ex. I’ve never gone out with him. I just made that all up, rather than tell you about the whole LARP business.”

“Why on earth would you concoct all that nonsense, Simon?” Penny’s looking completely perplexed but Baz has this cheeky grin, the absolute wanker.

He’s got a dimple in his left cheek.

Fuck.

“Because I thought you’d be irritated. It’s not something that serves a purpose.”

“Why would I care what you do with your free time?”

Oh my fucking god.

I give my hair another yank. “Aren’t you always telling me I should spend more time on my studies? Keep my social life a bit more contained?”

Penny has the audacity to shrug. “I’m not your keeper. If you need to swing a sword around to let off some steam, far be it from me to argue.”

She turns to Baz and smacks him on the arm. “What were you thinking, going along with all this nonsense of his tonight? I’d not expect that kind of foolishness from you, Baz.”

Baz leans against a bookshelf and flashes her a grin. “Let’s just say my curiosity was piqued, when he threw that ex comment out there. And you know how I love to spin a good story, Bunce. He certainly wasn’t going to pull one over on you by himself.” His eyes light on me and there’s something smouldering in the depths of them. Something I’d like to get a closer look at.

“Well, you’re ridiculous, the both of you,” Penny says. “You deserve each other, honestly.” She shakes her head. “Anyway, I’m starved. It’s past time we went to dinner.”

“Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Baz’s eyes never leave mine. “I’ll see you Friday then, Snow?”

He used my LARPing alias.

I liked it better when he was calling me Simon.

Penny hooks her arm around his. “Come join us, Baz. Since you and Simon already know each other so well.”

He adjusts his book bag on his shoulder. “I suppose I could do with some dinner.”

Penny keeps her hold on his arm and leans back to look at me behind Baz’s back.

And then she winks.

I think I’m the one that’s been played.

And when Baz’s knee knocks into mine as he squeezes into our booth at the pub I realise I don’t mind one bit.

also on ao3 Little Secrets

#LARPing AU #prompt list #my writing #my fics #thank you for this list #this one leaped out at me #fun list and fun prompts #non magical AU #of course Simon watches Castlevania

90 notes · View notes

modern-oedipus · 4 years

Text

Covid Vent

No one: Nila, who goes out maybe once in a month due to covid: *listens to coffee shop sounds in youtube to get in mood* It’s really hard to maintain social isolation now that it has been 5 months. But the cases are going up and up and up, hitting my friends and their families. I myself had to split houses with my mother because she had covid cases in her work place. I don’t think I’d isolate myself this much if I wasn’t in the risk group, but I am. Knowing that I am most likely to go to intensive care and experience the trouble breathing again like I did during the asthma treatment is not good. The potential permanent damage on lungs, for someone like me whose lungs are already more prone to sickness compared to healthy people, is also a big no, considering that I’m only in my early twenties and if everything goes well and I live a normal life I’d live around 50 more years. 50 more years with a disability or isolating myself at home? Isolation, obviously. But this pandemic doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. I am only indoors because both my internships are online & college hasn’t started yet. I know that I’ll eventually have to go out if my college doesn’t switch to online education. It doesn’t scare me at all, though, I am not like, “anxious”. I’m concerned, disturbed, alert, but not in a paranoid anxiety. If I end up catching covid, I’m at least mentally prepared to deal with it. I’m also eating healthy and exercising and don’t really have health problems except for that past-lung-treatments that more or less put me to a risk group (risky enough to concern me, even though I don’t have a chronic illness), so who knows, I might just pass it like a flu as well. No one knows. It’s not good overthinking covid, all I can do is to keep social distancing & mask & hygiene, as always. I’m just so suffocated. I’m more prone to be an extrovert. Before pandemic, I’d only use my house to sleep I’d keep being out in public, attending events, ORGANIZING events, going to coffee shops, club meetings, lots and lots of stage plays, tours, everything. I’d sneak into my friends’ dorms and change cities and just so many more “normal” fun things. I was barely starting to enjoy my life again after the depression healed. Now, I’m mentally ok, but physically trapped. The “watch netflix, read books, stay home” thing is kind of overdosing me right now. I like this shit for a week maybe, not for 5 months. I don’t know how to not risk my mental health while keeping my physical health anymore. Of course, to even HAVE a mental health I need to stay alive, so I’m not complaining- health care workers, people who go to job everyday (including my parents), etc. are in such a harder situation. I know. But my own life is also valid, and while not as troubling and concerning as lives of others right now, well, I think I’m still worth caring, at least by myself. I don’t expect any extra outside compassion or validation (we all are in same situation), me writing my thoughts here is more of me just trying to see my thoughts being worded on screen so that maybe I can come up with a solution to these things as I go. Because I’ve always been a problem-solver rather than just merely venting. (I can’t always solve problems though, I need to work on accepting this fact.) Anyway, I just thought, maybe spending more time outdoors in the natural park that is close to my house could be a good thing. But it’s crowded since it’s outdoors and I really don’t want to share any commonly used areas right now. (I used to be more than okay with this before covid, as I said, I’m mostly extroverted and I like community gatherings, but I like being healthy more), so like... Idk, maybe I can just sort of have phone calls and videochats with my friends as I sit outdoors. Except I don’t even know I have that many friends anymore. I mean, I do- I surely do have bestest of friends in my life that I’m grateful for, but like. I am somehow an introvert magnet and while I’d die for most of my best friends (both irl and online) I don’t really think they are as hype about just chatting as often as I am. (I know that this doesn’t mean they love me any less. They love me in their own way & I love them in their own way so that’s OK.) So like. Maybe Nila, have this BRILLIANT idea of making more friends. Except. Like. You’re at home so you aren’t in much of social gatherings [you aren’t in any! That is insane!] and you don’t really know how to make friends from home. I mean, yes there are online friends but like. EVEN WITH THEM. How can I just *trust* them right away? I can’t, so like. I don’t know. I’m bored af. On the bright side, today one of my bff from school called me and said he’s back in town and that we should catch up, he’s literally one of the greatest company ever and he wants to see the doggo, so I’m positive we can just have hour 9242309204 hours long in-depth chats again without getting bored (amazing to have people like that in my life). Anyway. I guess the moral of this is:

- I need to accept “the new normal”

- I need to protect myself but try to keep my mental health as good as possible because I like myself more when my mental health is fine and I can also come up with better creations then

- I need to finish my course work (internship) so that I can relax before school starts

- I need to spend more time outdoors but in isolated areas (good luck finding them!)

- I need to recharge

- I “want to” make more friends or just check up on existing ones! I can’t use the word “need” for this because this would degrade the freedom of the other party. Friends are appreciated, and to some extend, a necessity for social creatures like us, but no “need” will make it happen. I will just make an effort to check up on my existing friends more frequently-- I’m quite selective at this, though, I prefer generally upbringing people who are mature to a certain extend (aka, no obsession, no passive-aggression. yes to personal boundaries, yes to an overall nice attitude [we all can have problems and that’s ok and that’s normal. what /I/ personally don’t wish to be around [with my all respect] is this mindset of “life is a disaster let’s be depressed” thing. I just love love my current friend circle because even if my close friends are just around 7 people, and even if we get depressed or sad or scared, our general look to life is nicer, we don’t make disasters out of regular days, we enjoy talking and chatting, which overall increases our life quality and makes it better. We also communicate & respect & listen to each other and all. I mean. It’s not like that with everyone, and that’s ok, but as I said, this is my personal preference. I prefer having bonds that are good rather than toxic and I am doing my best to be equally good, rather than being toxic to my friends. [I’m sorry I post a lot of Banana Fish to those who don’t know Banana Fish, ok. I know ur bored but like I just cannot help it. I’m trying to tone it down but BANANA FISH.] sOOOOOOOO, SOOOO that’s why it’s not how “i have 29420343204 friends uwu” mindset, like, I noticed I need to be reasonably picky with those I’m close to so that I and people I love can overall have a nice, fun days, which is point of friendship. (I mean. As I said. I’m here on bad days too. But I don’t feel mentally healthy enough to carry the burden of someone else’s depression. It hasn’t even been two months since I’m out of therapy yet, and my mental health is, while not bad, it is fragile. I’d rather not be around those who can [mostly, unwillingly] effect me badly. SO LIKE. - that’s one hell of a long post nila, but long story short FRIENDS or you’ll die out of boredom

- also just finish your coursework i beg you

- thanks for coming to my ted talk, I actually always offer potential solutions on my vent posts, but this time i wanted to write this publicly [i dont think anyone will read this and i dont mind it] because like. why not? it’s just me thinking and I feel as if this could be of use for some people who are reading this & isolating themselves too. anyway, i love u, stay safe.

#quarantine #covid19 #social isolation #social distancing #mental health #friendship #health #nila stuff

10 notes · View notes

borhapstyles · 5 years

Note

I meant headcons yes 🙈 could you write a headcon about the reader acing her 2 big exams and she is happy for a little but then gets scared for another one she has next week? And Ben like, tells her she needs to rest a bit cause she can barely even focus on what they are doing or talking about and has bags under her eyes? So he treats her and is gentle with her and gIRL AS A UNI STUDENT I NEED SOME FLUFF 😭💞

i totally understand you, dear. as a uni student myself, i sometimes feel like i need a warm hug from Ben to tell me shit’s gonna be alright this semester :((

but i believe in us and we’re going to get through this!! we’re never given more than we can handle, and we’ll be alright xx

When you and Ben first started dating

you made it clear that your studies were a top priority for you

and he understood this, of course, having gone to uni himself

but he admired your work ethic greatly, he admired your dedication to it

it’s one of the things that attracted Ben to you

because no matter how busy he was with his work

he remembered what it was like to have to fit in hours of studying and completing course work

and when he looked at your coursework load?? he got scared lmao

with this said, however, he’d get worried at times

Ben knew you could handle it, he knew you could handle anything

but considering how determined you could be at times

he was worried you’d overwork yourself

but you’d always say

“i’m fine, love, I just need to finish going over this and I’ll call it a night”

but calling it a night sometimes meant staying up till 1am or 2am till you felt you had studied enough

and it paid off, though

when you aced two big midterm exams

Ben was incredibly proud by the way

and you felt amazing about it

He decided then and there that it called for a celebratory dinner and he booked you guys a night at a lovely restaurant

one with a view of London

and you were like “Ben, you didn’t have to do all this”

but he took your head across the table and said in his low voice

“it’s not everyday that you ace two big exams like this, we should celebrate your hard work, darling.”

and you were happy for the remainder of dinner, having forgotten that you were a uni student for a moment

that’s what it was like with Ben a lot of the time

sometimes you forgot that you were more than what your major in college was

that you could have a life out of studying and doing all your work

Ben made you feel normal, which was a turn from his celebrity life

but that’s why you guys worked

apart from the whirlwind of his life on set and your life at school

you had each other, you kept each other grounded, you reminded each other of how beautiful life could be

and later that night in bed?

Ben made sure to reward you with his tongue and his cock

but the next morning

when you woke up, head on his chest and legs tangled together

the anxiety of your next exam started to set in

it was next week, which you just now realised how close it was

you had been so focused on studying for this week’s exams that you didn’t even think about next week’s

Ben wasn’t quite awake yet behind you

and you sat in silence for a few minutes, heart starting to pound at the idea of how much you’d have to do to prepare for it

butterflies filled your stomach and you sighed

and as if he could tell something was off

that’s when Ben woke up

his arms lazily wrapped around you, eyes fluttering open

he felt you shuffle around on top of him

“baby?” his morning voice was a bit raspy and deeper than usual

you sighed once more and didn’t reply

“what’s wrong? you alright?”

“i have so much i need to do.”

that’s when Ben leaned down to kiss the top of your head and rubbed your back gently

“i have the day off, we can go to a cafe together and you can study while i learn my lines if you’d like? some place small and quiet.”

so that’s where you guys went

and Ben understood your need to concentrate

but like, you barely spoke to him when you were at the cafe

he had to resist the urge to reach over and boop your nose while you were reading something

he even snapped a quick photo of you, posting it with the caption “Hardest working girl I know. And the smartest. You’re gonna kill these exams, darling.”

and you didn’t even notice but normally you’re acutely aware of things like that

your instagram was then flooded with messages wishing you luck

but like u check ur phone lmao you knew if you did you’d never get off it

anywaays

the next day, back at the house

Ben came home from an audition

and he thought he’d have you for a moment to just sit and relax

but you were chained to your desk

i mean you got up to give Ben a hug and a kiss

but didn’t really stay and chat

then Ben made dinner, one of your favorite comfort meals

“Y/N? Dinner’s ready…” his voice trailed off as he stopped at the side of your desk

you looked up at him, smiled and squeezed his hand

“thank you, i’ll be there in a minute”

at the dinner table, Ben noticed you were much more quiet than usual

you were spaced out, to say the least

not really touching your food

for a moment Ben’s insecure you didn’t like his cooking

then he realised it’s because of how tired you were

you had been studying non-stop for two days, working yourself to the bone

and it was worrying to him, how tired you really looked

he didn’t have a chance to study your face when he first came home

but you had dark circles under your eyes, and a seemingly permanent frown on your lips

“love?” he said, reaching across the table

you let out a breath and flicked your tired eyes up at him

“hm?”

“you need to take a break from all the studying”

“i am, we’re eating right now. this is my break”

“no,” he shook his head “as in for the night. you’re overworking yourself, darling. you’ve barely looked up from your books and it’s not healthy.”

“no, i have a paper due and i-i need to study, my exam is-”

“in a few days, i know, love. but you need to take care of yourself and you need to give your brain a rest. taking one night off from studying to relax and not do anything is actually going to help.”

and because you were so tired from everything, you didn’t really have the sense to argue

no matter how stressed you were about uni, you knew that he was right

Ben saw tears welling up in your eyes from how overwhelmed you were

so he stood up from his chair and walked over to you

he wrapped his strong arms around you and kissed your neck gently as you cried

“i-i don’t know how i’m going to get through all this, Ben. it’s just so much, college is so much all the time.”

“i know, baby, i know. i’m sorry it’s so much.” he uttered. he kissed your temple and rest his head on your shoulders

“you’re going to get through these exams and everything else afterwards, alright? you’re the most intelligent, hardworking, amazingly talented woman i know and your mental health is worth more than any exam. please don’t give yourself up because of this, darling.”

then you turned around and met his eyes

Ben smiled at you and you cried even harder

not because of anything bad, but because this beautiful man supported you like nothing else

Ben couldn’t give two fucks if you failed an exam or not

i mean of course he wanted you to be successful and to thrive

but he wanted you to be alright first, and just wanted to look after you

so you took the night off from studying, didn’t even glance in the direction of all your books and laptop

Ben threw on one of your favorite films

he put on bohemian rhapsody but u didnt hear it from me

he held you close and you two and sung your lungs out to the music

and you swear you just didn’t want the night to end

Ben’s fingers wrapped themselves in your hair and he’d occasionally place kisses to the top of your head

which eventually led to a very heavy make-out session

he was covered in lovebites afterwards and so were you

never mind the shit he got for it on set the next day lmao

and several days later, you found out you aced your other exam

because u a strong smart woman who is capable of anything

and then Ben took you into his arms that night

where you told him thank you

and he said “for what? you put in all the hard work”

“yes, but you’re the one who made sure I didn’t go mad”

“just my way of saying i love you. i’ll always look after you.”

hi, big big reminder that self care is super important, especially during times of high stress like school. please take care of yourselves

go read a fanfic or something to relax ;-) Ben would want you to put yourself first. good luck to anyone with school and feel free to message me if you ever need to talk xx

#ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy headcanons #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy one shot #gwilym lee #lucy boynton #joe mazzello #rami malek #bohemian rhapsody

215 notes · View notes

chokefriends · 5 years

Text

Pit-town Strays, ch.2

Kidlaw softness and redneck shenanigans in a northern mining town. Everything’s fucked but whatever.

Rated T, no big warnings. Ch 2: The boys hang out some more, they are stupid baby dorks and nothing happens, thanks for coming by.

Ch. 1 - [Ch. 2] - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5

Read on Ao3 too, I’m Ossicle

Bellamy arrived back from partying just as Law was on his way out the next morning.

“So can I have the fucking car then?” Law asked, not holding out much hope.

His bull-necked brother eyed him with wary hostility. “You’re a fucking gay,” he accused Law.

“I can also drive.”

“Shut up. I bet you're not actually, though. You're just tryna make people think you're special.”

Law snorted. “Bellamy, obviously I'm ‘a’ fucking gay.”

“No,” he denied it doggedly. “I'm your brother, I'd know already.”

“Dellinger, help us out here, buddy,” Law summoned their youngest brother, who was just then coming down the stairs with a pop-tart sandwich and his guppy jar. He was wearing a wetsuit, for some arcane reason.

“He's too young to hear about that stuff,” Bellamy warned off Law under his breath.

Law ignored this and addressed Dellinger. “Deli-man: Am I, in your estimation, fucking gay.”

“Uhhh, obviously you're fucking gay?” Dellinger rolled his eyes with all the snotty certainty of a thirteen-year-old boy.

“See?” Law raised his eyebrows at Bellamy.

“Pff. Every punk seventh-grader says that about literally everything,” Bellamy pointed out, fairly. “Last week he said gym shoes were gay.”

“Gym shoes are very gay,” Law confirmed.

“Not gay as Law’s gay self, though.” Dellinger met Law's fist bump with the guppy jar and went to claim the cozy recliner spot for his Shark Week marathon. Of their parents’ two biological sons, Law was definitely closer with this little blond weirdo.

Bellamy grouched, “Dellinger, turn that off, don't you got school?”

“Uhhh, it's summer?” the squeaky brat reminded him. “Law's only in school cuz he's a gay, gay nerd.”

Law covered his smile and went away up the stairs.

Bellamy's scowl deepened. He followed Law, accusing him, “You been keeping stuff from me. I’m your brother.”

“Why the fuck would I tell you shit. Thought you’d have figured it out already, anyway… I only been dating guys since I was like, fourteen.” Law rolled his eyes even more heavily than Dellinger had.

Bellamy stood there and glared for a full minute as Law tried to relace his sneakers with the remaining strand of snapped shoelace.

“...does Dad know?”

Law hesitated at the question, and looked over his shoulder reflexively, though he knew their father was gone on a business trip. He shrugged in response, confidence blown.

His ornery brother hissed suddenly, “This is fucked up. I'm not getting involved in any of this sick shit. Got that? Don't bring home any more Pit-town meth head tricks, I'll fucking kill em!”

“Where the fuck are you going? Gimme the keys,” Law complained.

“No, I gotta use the car today!” Bellamy stormed off.

---

Fucking pointless drama. Law shook it off and messaged Kidd with an ETA, then went to the highway to hitch a ride again. He'd forgotten all about the morning’s tense exchange by the time he'd made his way over and climbed the same bare rock outcropping as the day before. Kidd, the bike, and the Pit were all waiting below.

“The whole place is on high Goose Alert,” Kidd grinned. “Kevin is unavailable for comment.”

Law laughed and swung his leg over the back of the black-painted motorcycle. They roared through the village to Kidd's place in the far corner of the grid, past pursuing dogs and staring neighbors but no geese. Much better way to see the place, Law thought, dismounting in the driveway. Getting a little feel of Kidd's tight physique had been a bonus.

He followed Kidd up the step, where the little pink bike was once again lying in the way.

“Oh hey, you went and throat-punched the bike-thieves’ dad already?” Law joked.

“Oh, yeah, heh, stopped by his place last night. Guy tried to fucking sell it back to me, you believe that? Barely past check day and he's tryna scam people… Fucking drunk. Had to knock him out and give his kids a chicken bucket to show me where it was.” Kidd stepped over the bike and tried the door. Locked. He jiggled it and tried again.

Law frowned. “Okay? That's… good. Good job.”

“Yeah, chicken works. Nami! Open the fucking door! NAMI.”

A pouting little face was pressed against the window over to their left, watching them and not budging.

“Shoulda got chicken,” Law suggested.

Kidd growled in irritation. “God, it's always gotta be something. Every fucking time she figures out I'm going somewhere for the day… Nami, I gotta get to work! And look: Law's here!”

Nami's pout deepened.

“I can just get the door,” Law offered, reaching into his pocket for a card to jimmy it.

“Nah it's fine, I got it…” Kidd drove his boot into the door in an angry burst and it swung open. He stomped inside.

“Uh,” Law looked at the splintered bolt slot. No wonder there was no stop left.

“I'll fix it later. Nami: c’mere.” Kidd shouldered the duffel bag that was waiting on the hall floor, and then squatted down to call his sister over to him. “C'mon, gimme a kiss, I'll be back really soon.”

She kept her face stuck to the window, blowing clouds onto the glass and drawing shapes in them.

He sighed and went over to plant a kiss on the top of her head anyway, and she made an angry sound but kept ignoring him. “Don’t be like that. I'll be home before you go to sleep this time, okay? Babygirl?”

Her face stayed stuck to the glass.

“Nami.”

“Best not to draw it out, right?” Law suggested.

“... … …Yeah.” Kidd waited a moment longer, but Nami was set on being mad. He stood with a scoff.

“We’re good,” Law assured him, “And I'll text if there's something.”

“Kay, yeah. Bye.”

Kidd left abruptly.

Law frowned after him. Outside, the bike roared to life and then faded into a distant hum. Law went to close the open front door, bringing the bike inside as an afterthought. Nami was wiping away all her window-fog designs when he came back. She looked at him warily.

Law held out his hands. “Hey, witchygirl! I said I'd come back, right?”

She didn't reply. She walked around the far side of the room and then past him. In the kitchen, she took a box of Sugarbombs from the cupboard and then sat at the table, waiting.

“...Want cereal?” Law asked.

“Yah,” she huffed.

Law got her a bowl and blue plastic spoon and got her all set up. He sat down with a sigh as she dug in.

“Nami, can you say ‘thank you?’”

“Ya.” She kept chewing.

Law stifled a laugh at this. Law's father would have given her a real quick correction if she'd tried that in his presence. And Law probably shouldn't encourage her sass, but hey. He looked around and his eyes fell on his Stats assignment, forgotten there the previous night.

It was finished.

“Holy, what??” Law looked it all the way through, and then again. He studied the formulas, rubbing his temple. “How… do you even…? Ughhh.”

He looked up when Nami heaved a heavy little sigh of her own. She was watching him, imitating his concerned slouch and terse sounds.

“Hi,” she finally acknowledged him.

“Hi, Nami. We cool?”

“Ya,” she decided. “You can haves some cereal too.”

“No, thanks, not my favorite,” Law went back to decoding the paper.

“It is, it is not what witches can eat?” she wondered.

“Witches can eat what they want,” he told her distractedly.

A few moments later Law looked up to find her gone, and he had to run before she tried eating something bad. He found her in the bathroom, selecting cleaning supplies from the cupboard. He diverted her to coloring at the table, and spent the next hour organizing the bathroom and sorting the cleaning stuff into a high place.

The day went on much the same as before, Law alternating between coursework, cleaning and Nami management, while Nami went about her witchness. By the time it got dark, though, she was whining at the window and trying to break small things of Kidd's. Law took a guitar tuner away from her and she had a full-on meltdown. Law was starting to watch out the window too, wondering if he should text Kidd for an ETA… The guy had said he'd be back before dark this time, right? Law finally convinced Nami to lie down and watch Toy Story, but she would only stay put if he sat where she could see both him and the TV.

It was past 11pm again by the time Kidd came through the door. Nami got up and went to peek around the corner at him, but ran back to bed when he tried to get her to hug him.

“Girl, what the fuck,” Kidd grumbled.

“She's been waiting a while, I guess,” Law suggested.

“Yeah well. If I get offered a few extra hours at rate, I'm gonna take em.” The big redhead kicked off his boots and headed for the kitchen.

Law looked over at the little blanket lump, but it wasn't budging, so he followed Kidd.

“Didn’t get to the sushi place this time,” Kidd apologized.

“It’s cool, takeout every night gets expensive. I made this soup thing, there was leftover chicken in the fridge.” Law pointed to the pot on the stove and Kidd went to look.

“Oh sweet, like from scratch?”

“Yup.”

“Whoa, lookit that. Fancy brown stuff…” He made himself a bowl and sat back at the table.

“That’s what they call me,” Law joked to himself.

“Huh?” Kidd paused, spoon in hand.

“Oh I was just… talking to myself, uh… n-nevermind. Didn’t expect you to be listening.”

“Well I’m right here. Anyway, hey, I got these,” Kidd fished in his bag and threw Law a can. Hard lemonade.

“Hah, thanks…?” Law was cautiously grateful. He cracked it and took a sip—hmm, not bad. Not bready, anyway.

There was the quiet sound of bare feet from down the hall.

“There she is,” Kidd lifted his arm to find a sleepy Nami hugging his waist. “Yeah, hi. Good girl. Go the fuck to bed.”

He gave her a kiss and a coin, and she padded off again.

Law took a long drink from his can. “Soooo uh, I was gonna ask. You did that Stats sheet I left?”

“Um. Guess so…”

He was treated to one of Kidd's full face-and-neck blushes again. The unfortunate paleface ducked his head and concentrated on his bowl.

Law stretched and pretended to be fascinated by the ceiling light. “I was just gonna ask ya—”

“I was just bored or whatever,” Kidd told his soup.

“Yeah, but I don't know anybody else who just does math when they're bored,” Law wryly addressed the ceiling.

“Not trying to show you up or whatever. It's probably wrong. You can just erase it.”

Law snuck a glance over to see that the blush had safely passed. “Yeah but actually maybe you could show me what, um. When you… Like, which. How.”

“...Oh, yeah? Really? What part.”

“Most parts…” Law admitted.

Kidd laughed again, startlingly loud. Law jumped a little but laughed too.

“If you want,” Kidd grinned, pleased.

Law scraped his chair up next to Kidd's. They studied the offensive bit of paper for an hour, grabbing the pencil back and forth and talking overtop of each other. It didn't take long for Law to grasp the concept, but he let Kidd take him through a few more examples. They were getting louder and messier as the cans disappeared, and pretty soon the lesson was forgotten.

“But what if I take the p-value, and divide it by its own ass.” Law held two pencils like chopsticks and drew a little asterix, earning an ear-splitting guffaw from Kidd.

“Sshhh, sleeping baby!” he shushed Law in a whisper-shout, still laughing.

“You're the one screeching!”

“Not even!”

An irate Nami appeared in the doorway. “SHUT THA FUCK.”

They both looked over at her in alarm, then burst out laughing even harder. Nami's scowl deepened, and she came over to swat her brother as he held up his hands in defense.

“Holy shit Nami, okay okay, hahaaa…”

“Kidd! You come put me a bed!” Nami ordered.

“I will after, I have to take Law home first.” Kidd sat her on his lap and looked over at the oven clock. One in the morning.

“Oh shit…” Law checked his phone. No messages from his father, but one from Bellamy.

Dad's home, was all it said.

He ask where I am? Law texted back, and waited anxiously.

“Unless, uhh, you wanna crash?” Kidd mumbled to Law with a cough.

Law scrolled through his messages another couple times. “I don't really wanna get in a crash, no… I guess you've had a few drinks, eh.”

“Nono, I mean like, crash here.”

“Oh!” Law looked up from his texting. “Like sleep here. With you.”

“On the couch,” Kidd clarified, cheeks flaring up again.

“Well…” Law considered his phone.

“Or I can take you home on the bike. It's fine, I ride it around all blasted all the time, haha. But I only had a few this time.”

That was not super reassuring, Law reflected. He fiddled with the little bear dangle on his phone case. A strident bzz-bzz, and Bellamy's reply popped up:

No he just went to bed…

Law breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he could play it off like he'd come home late and gone back out again early, if his father asked.

“Yeah I'll stay,” he decided.

“Awesome!” Kidd gathered up Nami and made his way down the hall. He got a sheet out of the dryer and an extra blanket from a stack, then headed to the living room to make up the couch. Nami hung around his shoulders, over-tired and whining.

“I’m sharing with you tonight, Tinygirl,” he told her.

“You're not taking the big bed?” Law wondered.

“That's Dad's room.”

This seemed like all Kidd was gonna say on that topic, so Law let it go for now. Weird but whatever.

Kidd shucked off his outer layers and got into the little single bed on the floor, shoving aside all the furry little pillows. His feet hung off the end. Nami settled in under his arm with much squirming and fussing. Law laid himself out on the couch, still fully clothed in the stuffy room.

“You want some shorts to sleep in?” Kidd offered.

“Nah I'm good.”

“H’okay…” Kidd was probably thinking, weird but whatever.

“You working tomorrow?” Law asked.

“Yeah. But after that, it depends on when they need me.”

“Okay, I'll be around tomorrow, but Thursdays and Fridays I have class, so I can't come by til later.”

“We'll figure it out,” Kidd waved it off. “Worst case, I find another unlicensed daycare some yoga-pants MILF is running in her shed. Pit-town is good for those.”

Law snort-laughed into his pillow. “MILF-town! So where's the DILFs?”

“Well they sure as fuck ain't here,” Kidd muttered.

“What, no D's you'd like to F?” Law teased. A furry blue pillow flew at him.

“God no. No one wants to F these D's. The M's just do it for the B's, which stands for Baby Bonus.”

“Oooo… harsh.”

“True though,” Kidd chuckled darkly. “Not that I blame em. Baby bonus is about all the income to be had around here if you're non-union.”

“Huh…” Law was about to ask what Kidd had found, job-wise, but Nami interrupted to let them know she was asleep.

“I ASLEEP.”

“Okay,” Kidd whispered. “I guess me too.”

“Hey Kidd,” Law whispered. “You’re basically like Nami's dad, right?”

“...yeah. More than our actual dad is, anyway.”

“So,” Law struggled to keep his voice even. “You're one.”

“One what?”

“The one and only, the lone DILF of Pit-town.” Law stuffed his face into the pillow to muffle his giggling fit. There was no response and he looked over with a wicked grin to see that Kidd had pulled the blanket over his face. Probably blushing.

“You hiding?”

“Shut up… I'm asleep.”

Law chuckled quietly to himself and watched the odd pair on the floor. They were both out in a matter of minutes once they'd settled down. Kidd looked even bigger when he was trying to fit into a small space, with tiny Nami tucked between his side and arm. His protruding brow stayed creased, even while asleep, but the sarcasm had lifted from his lips. He looked worried.

Law settled down too, and scrolled aimlessly through his phone until it slipped out of his hand and he fell asleep without realizing.

#KidLaw #kidlaw fic #eustass kid #trafalgar law #one piece modern au #I love em sad babies I hope you do too #they will survive and be good to each other #and shit will be fucked as shit is wont to be #pit-town strays

4 notes · View notes

rhythmic-idealist · 6 years

Text

A short while ago, when I was loudly narrating a barrage of “everything that’s making me upset right now,” @commanderfraya posed the question (paraphrased, here, from something like three separate questions in a set of about six) “what is the path I can set myself on that is going to be the thing that clears my Soul Gem, instead of just hypothetically caring about so much that I put out and work for an abstract idea of good and shrivel up into a Grief Seed?”

(@commanderfraya, I do not expect you to read this through. I do not expect ANYONE to read this through. It’s tagged to you as a thank-you, and a very, very heartfelt one.)

With that in mind, I’m thinking out loud about the life plan, and because I’m really, really excited about what I’m coming up with you all can come along with me.

(The place where this started, when I wrote that sentence, is not where it ended up. I want to reread this, connect all the little dots I’m missing or refusing to, and get that excited again.)

Cons of studying music therapy:

have to contend with potentially ableist professors and readings

with certainty, have to contend with some ableist professional relationships

the culture around studying music therapy (at least in my school, which was very “we’ll know if you’re one of us,” and there were other things too) is what burned me out so hard last time

I don’t want to be a classical music performer, and I have to study classical music performance

Pros of studying music therapy:

get to be a music therapist. The fact that this makes me as absolutely giddy as it does is conclusive proof imo that this is actually what I want to do, but wait, if that’s not proof enough that I love and feed off of music therapy as a passion, there’s more:

get the credibility to run a music therapy student podcast. I would be SO EXCITED about this guys, you cannot believe, I started sitting here and planning it out and then went “wait. shit. I have ZERO credibility.” (that’s why this post is happening.) and if I do the podcast NOW, the inevitable question of my involvement with music therapy will come up, and then the inevitable question of why I left after a semester, and I’m not prepared to answer that publicly yet. but listen. discussions with various disability advocates, or just friends, or professors, about recent papers published. interviews with local music therapists. interviews with musicians, too, and psychologists, and social workers, child development professionals, people who manage NICUs, and so on and so on. but I’m REALLY excited about 1) interviews with music therapists and 2) chances to broadcast, to the music therapy community at large, my take on current research.

I will have accommodations and a diagnosis on file. saying “I know I have some trouble with communication, and won’t know it’s an assignment unless you tell me ‘this is an assignment, and this is the due date,’ and that’s why I don’t have the thing you expected me to have this week” should really be enough, but I’ve learned from experience that if you say “I’m diagnosed with autism and-” people will IMMEDIATELY go “oh, so you need-” and repeat back what I just said.

The big, looming spectre over all of this:

things I can’t publish on Tumblr. There’s a possibility I will tangle very scarily with the administration of the school I studied at. There’s a possibility that doing this will impact my future career, at other schools.

So the pros win, genuinely, because I think all of the cons can be solved. The answer to the first two is “I love advocating for myself and others, and will be damn loud about it” and “I will have accommodations and a diagnosis on file.”

The answer to the third is I will just have to pull through and make it my own education and my own take on everything anyway and that’ll be enough, and because I will have accommodations and I will be good at what I do, I will have the grades to get through and the quality of work for a letter of rec and that is all that matters,

The answer to the fourth is that I’m growing more disciplined in classical practice, and this summer is my test run for that. It’s proving doable and rewarding. I love how my bass sounds on Bach chorales.

THE PLAN, then, and this is the part that’s just really good:

Finish my AA in music. I’m going into my second semester of that, and will, after it, have two more before I have a degree in music (with a focus on classical performance) and will transfer.

One major, major complaint was “in the meantime people are still being deported and homeless and suicidal and every other fucking thing I care about and I’m really going to be, with all that going on, with the time I could spend dedicated to fixing these problems, with the knowledge I could have been a social worker by next year if I started down that path already - I’m going to turn away from at least some opportunities to volunteer and to take to the streets to be a musician?”

So when I turn 21, I’m going to become a CASA volunteer.

This requires me to be really, really reliable and take a child’s life and future into my hands. The fortunate thing is that I know for a fact I can do this. I am putting in pointed and concerted effort to become a reliable person. It is hard work, and I am going to be able to keep doing it.

I have a job offer, part-time, for the preschool social-emotional-development-through-music program with which I’m currently interning.

Everything, literally everything, takes a backseat to:

the CASA job.

the college work - AA-central coursework first, and optionally ASL, because my mother is hard of hearing and losing her hearing progressively and it is that important.

the part-time job.

This is going to be fulfilling because protesting, other volunteerism, and political work is still going to be happening but in the backseat position it has been in, but the difference is that I will be doing a world of concrete good in my work and as a CASA volunteer. (The rest is what I’ve scrolled back up to add, because yeah, I cut this short.)

So then what? Then I study music therapy, which means I’ve moved away from home. What happens then?

The music therapy podcast. I organize it by myself, because I want to, though I frequently invite other students to collaborate on episodes.

Or I organize it with a friend, if I find a friend like Amy again. Not saying "Amy who” here for anonymity, but she has been my best friend for a long, long time.

Work. How am I working? Is music freelancing enough? Do I want to take a break before my transfer, and if so, how to I spend it meaningfully? Do I want to take a different route after all, study social work, spend TEN years doing that before I come back to music therapy? That could be good. I could love that. I would miss the music therapy podcast, and have to not think of social work as a transitional phase, to be committed to it, but there’s a balance between understanding that life can involve multiple careers and being committed to the current one.

It’s a job I would love, and a way I would love myself for the next ten years.

Every, every single thing I say is pointing me toward social work. It really, really is, and I could do it. The only thing I would regret is change. That’s - the feeling that I’m giving something up now, that I’ll never know what would have happened if I kept following the path I’m on.

Maybe I don’t need to know. Maybe I need not to, that’s why people change paths, ever, that’s why I’m not doing a million other paths that I’ll also never know because I’m not considering them. I just need to decide if the next ten years of music therapy are a loss.

The next fourteen years - four years for college. It’s a lot of college! I’m going to be doing that much anyway.

I’m.... not sure they are. I think that sticking to music therapy just because I’m here - that feels like a loss. I don’t think it gets me anything.

I think all roads lead to social work.

I think I could love the person I am as a social worker, be a good one, and I love kids, and I love human beings in general, I would be so, so happy, I swear to God.

It’s maybe the first time I’ve made a choice my mom will vehemently disagree with as the right one for me, in a way I will care about, and will feel as almost a strict mandate that it has to be another way, in my life.

I’m 20. That has to happen eventually.

I want to be a social worker. My throat is tight and my stomach is sick but it’s what I want to do, and those feelings are the anxiety I get and need to address eventually about being wrong about anything, about having been wrong and changing it, about the idea that I just need to act like I knew things already, all the time, or that I did, and I’m stupid for not doing them, and I’m conforming to expectations, and then I get sad about it instead of fixing it.

It’s an anxiety about having been wrong. I can’t twist this to assuage it.

So I just gotta not. And do it anyway.

Good thing I have therapy tomorrow.

There’s an unplanned digression from the plan. I’ve separated it out.

If I evaluate my position as a student once I turn 21, and I genuinely know I cannot commit the time to be a CASA volunteer responsibly, will my life still be fulfilling without it?

Yes. Working on it, but I think that the preschool program is that important.

Then again, I’m doing the preschool program right now (albeit unpaid), and right now is when I had the crisis of feeling like I’m not giving enough to the things that I actually care about, that I am shirking good I could and genuinely want to be doing, and would feel better for doing.

(I feel- trapped, genuinely, when I am choosing or feel like I am choosing not to help something that I should care, and do care, enough to help- like why have I trapped myself in this position, there are lots of people who care more about being musicians than about being activists and I am not one of them, so why am I pretending to be, why when I both genuinely, viscerally hate the feeling of not helping and also other people hurt for the lack of me helping, there’s no good coming from this choice for even me emotionally and I am making it only because- what, it might do good for someone else, it’s a narrative I want to fill? that’s the conflict, and I’m getting off track/backtracking us a lot, but I should have filled you in on that earlier)

To the less Madoka-literate of you, and only those who don’t mind spoilers: this is where I take a brief digression to talk about the Soul Gem and Grief Seed metaphor. Soul Gems give you your power, and allow you to do good in the world, but you are required to do some things that are arguably selfish - the good you are doing has to be motivated by healing yourself, in that way that Phoebe Buffay hates, and we learn (in watching my favorite character try to refuse this) that this does NOT negate a good deed, and no amount of martyrdom or pushing yourself aside makes the deed itself any better - to keep your Soul Gem cleansed.

If it goes for too long without being cleansed - if you try to do a lot of good, and refuse to take the rewards of it, or you expend too much energy doing the kind of good that comes without things that are rewarding for you - you turn into a Grief Seed. This is bad.

So that’s what I need to work out. Is this going to be good enough, if all I am doing is music and the part-time job.

When I am paid for the part-time job, I think it will feel better, and I will feel more comfortable making some of the grander, more permanent contributions to the curriculum that I’ve danced around for right now because I didn’t want to give away everything I want to do and then have my boss own it. She and I talked about rights today; I retain rights to activities and lesson plans that I create, even if she keeps using them when we part ways, and it won’t be interpreted as me stealing her program.

The PLAN, again.

My time is prioritized to school, teaching/work, and CASA.

I finish my AA in music performance.

I transfer to study music therapy.

I keep working part time, hopefully, while studying music therapy.

Fuck. That means I need to study at the college I left. I don’t know yet if that will be an option, once the thing I can’t publish here has gone down.

I should tell my boss I don’t know if I can make more than a one-and-a-half year commitment as a paid employee, because I might be leaving. Music therapy is an extremely uncommon major, and if I do not take it at exactly the school at which I took it, I will need to travel very far away.

Fuck.

Fuck indeed.

Okay. [Long, heavy sigh]. Okay.

I don’t want to get an undergraduate in music performance.

I don’t. I don’t it would burn me out that would be a thing that would turn me into a Grief Seed. I would hate it so much and I would feel useless and I do not enjoy putting myself on a stage for classical performance because I do not feel good about it, or like I am good enough at it, and I’m not interested in fixing that enough for another two years of school.

If I’m going to switch majors I need to do that now. I am not prepared to switch majors for a semester, change my mind, and come back to music. I don’t want to walk myself into a hole where it feels like the major I switch to is one I’m trapped to. I’ve done that to myself almost already.

If I switch majors, the likely candidates are:

Social Work.

Really social work’s the one. But, for argument’s sake:

Child Development.

Jazz. More on that below.

“More on that below:”

Or I could just stop. I could just stop, and study jazz, and work for the preschool program, and bring in money as a freelance musician for a while. I could just fucking stop and live for several years while doing this, and see if the finances are good enough that I can pour my soul into politics and activism and all the work I want to be doing. I’m okay with studying jazz without being in school. I’m good enough to be a freelance musician now, and with that and a part time job at the preschool I can sustain myself. Musician jobs, when you look in the right places, pay well. I would have time.

I don’t like that I know I’m ignoring something.

Thoughts right now, that aren’t as nice as they seemed when I started this post. I’ve worked some things out, so I refuse to say we’re back at square one. In fact, we’re not. I’m scrolling back up, editing, and making more lists.

#dear diary

1 note · View note

sparkplugzave · 6 years

Text

Hi! I’m Sam. Nice to meet you! I’ll be playing Xavier Tempest, or as you might know him, Lightning.

Originally, I wanted to type up a short little intro post for him, but it got embarrassingly long once I really got into it, and I didn’t want to clog up the dash with that. If you’re interested in the director’s cut of this post, you can find his extended bullet-point bio HERE. If you’re not currently in the mood to read, here are five key points you should know about him ( to the tune of The Twelve Days of Christmas ).

ONE COUNTRY ROAD

Grew up in the Nova Scotia countryside.

His hometown was nothing but backwoods and open roads. Very country. Very redneck. Very boring. The only thing it was good for was long drives after fights with his parents, where he could have the roads to himself all night. But most of the time, it just left him wanting more.

His parents were very strict, very faithful Protestants. They raised their children to be humble, polite, and give thanks to God. Xavier rebelled against their strict rules and teachings, which created a lot of tension in the household.

TWO PENNIES TO RUB TOGETHER

Unfortunately, his parents’ love and faith in The Lord did not bless their family with wealth. They were poor, and Xavier couldn’t find much to be thankful for. ( I’m gonna talk to Chels about their jobs and stuff but for now just know they were not doing so well financially )

There’s a lot of resentment, about how his parents couldn’t provide for him as much as he would have liked them to. No fancy school trips. No extravagant holidays. Their financial status brought him guilt, anger, and shame.

This also made Xavier very resourceful. He realized people were more likely to help him if he was charming, and he used that to his advantage. ( He was raised to be a southern gentleman, after all. ) Keep in mind that he is only charming when he wants to be, or when he needs something.

THREE YEARS OF HIGH SCHOOL

The boy never did well in school. He struggled with coursework, was distracting to his classmates, was perceived as lazy by his teachers. He became bored with subjects that were too easy for him ( math / science ), and too frustrated by subjects that were too difficult ( English ). He often felt stupid, acting out as the class clown, hiding away his insecurities. And he absolutely hated being picked to read aloud; his dyslexia went unrecognized for years.

Fell in with a bad crowd in the 9th grade. Skipped class a lot. Went to a lot of parties. Tales of what he did at these wild parties sometimes served as Monday morning gossip.

Never graduated from high school. Dropped out when he was 17. Fucked around for a couple of months. Got hired for part-time retail jobs, only to eventually stop showing up and ultimately get fired. Rinse, repeat.

FOUR GREASY SHIRTS

After about 6-8 months of proving everyone right ( that he was, in fact, a loser ), his life picked up a bit.

The local mechanic--an elderly man--saw that Xavier needed some discipline and a purpose, and took him under his wing. The man taught him everything he knew about cars and bikes, and for once, Xavier stopped talking and listened.

Xavier became really interested in tinkering and automobile mechanics, and he worked respectfully under the man for about two years. Maybe he had some hidden potential all this time, but just needed someone to believe in him. ( Or maybe he really is just a lazy sack of shit. Depends on who you ask )

( I’m toying around with the idea of the mechanic mentor dying from a heart attack or something, further encouraging Xavier to leave his hometown, but it’s not set in stone yet. I’d just kinda feel bad for him, ya know. )

When his little brother Ezekiel got a scholarship to a university in Toronto, he decided to go with him. He worked hard to get his G. E. D while Ezekiel finished his senior year, and when he graduated, they packed their bags and moved to the city.

FIVE YEARS OF SHITTY PAY

They started renting a shitty apartment in downtown Toronto. Xavier had never been more in love with the taste of freedom.

Hee started working as a custodian at an electric company when he realized mechanic work wasn’t going to be enough to pay the bills ( read: rent, food, weed )

When he learned that electricians at this company “made bank,” he switched gears and started looking into what it took to become an electrician. He would miss being a mechanic, but the goal here, people, is DOLLA$$

Currently, he’s 23 and working as an Electrician Apprentice. Still makes shit pay, but at least there’s light at the end of the tunnel when he completes his 5-year apprenticeship ( will he complete it? only time will tell )

OH and ( the very first thing Chels and I talked about, the most pressing matter ) - he and his brother have a corgi named Spark! He’s a chubby little thing that gets treated like Toronto royalty. They’d starve themselves before that adorable corgi went without supper. Xavier feeds him human food sometimes. Spoiled little shit.

PERSONALITY & FUN FACTS

( + ) Charming, Lively, Spontaneous

( - ) Reckless, Temperamental, Unpredictable

Will charm the pants off of you to get what he wants: a hottie’s number for a date, a waitress for a little extra whipped cream on an ice cream sundae ( that’s not a euphemism; he just likes his sweets--but he likes sex, too. a lot ).

Messy: Messy cook. Messy eater. Messy roommate. There is laundry all over the floor of his bedroom. PLEASE clean his house.

Loves cooking, driving, bacon, coffee ( light and sweet, but he’ll swear up and down until the day he dies that he takes it black ). Loathes vegetables.

Still not used to sitting in Toronto traffic, but will never go back to the country. Has not seen his parents in three years ( since he moved )

Likes working out to use up all his extra energy.

Can’t sit still. Always doing something. Some days might go to work, come home and change clothes, stay out all night ( get a lil’ fucked up ), come home and nap for a an hour, then go back to work. Might not see his brother/dog for over 24 hours. Tries to remember to call.

Can solve a Rubix Cube in under 2 minutes--under 1 minute if he’s trying to impress. Also not too shabby with a yo-yo.

Not super dependable when it comes to deadlines or doing things at a certain time ( but is usually apologetic about it )

Smarter than he lets on. Good memorization of random facts. Likes to watch Jeopardy. Sometimes lacking in common sense department.

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS

Classmates who knew him as a total fuck-up from high school ( fellow Bad Seeds, opposing Good Eggs, lab partners, whomever )

Those People You Only Know From Seeing Them at Parties

Self-destructive friends who might encourage him to dabble into hardcore, addictive drugs ( I want to see him fall )

An ex-girlfriend he probably didn’t take seriously and most likely cheated on

Anything!! I have a few things in mind for specific connections, and I’ll probably think of more once we start chit-chatting one-on-one ( so talk 2 me tell me ur name )

holy cannoli this was supposed to be short!!!! ahh!!!!!

ACTUAL TL;DR: Nova Scotia boonies redneck. Broke as hell. Real charmer when he wants something. Blunt when he doesn’t. Smart but doesn’t apply himself. Sex drugs & rock ‘n roll. Protective of his little brother. Loves bacon. Hates vegetables. Good with cars. Electrician Apprentice. Has a corgi. See his BIO and STATS pages for more info.

Okay, that’s all! I swear! Feel free to message me! Let’s be friends and talk about our characters! Or if you’re shy, LIKE this post and I’ll come to you! ( If you made it this far, you’re my frickin’ hero!! )

#( about )#elementlightning #if your eyes bleed trying to read this whole thing just message me and we'll talk :)

7 notes · View notes

jamesbuckfastbarnes · 7 years

Text

A Visit To The Teacher.

Request - Happy with an art teacher?? Lots of freedom:)

I’m not sure this was exactly what you were thinking but I hope you like it all the same! :) - Red_w00dy xoxo

@beastinfordisney

Leaning back into your chair with a heavy sigh, you lifted your head to stare out at the empty classroom in front of you, with the exception of Abel Teller. You were an art teacher at the high school in Norco, California and Abel was proving to be one of your more difficult students. It wasn't as if he didn't have any talent, in fact he was probably one of your best students, but he also had a habit of losing his temper for no apparent reason. Lately he had been drawing a lot of disturbing images during class, something that worried you which was why you were sat here after hours waiting to have a meeting with one of his emergency contacts. It wasn't the first time, you'd had many meetings with his mother, Wendy, and his other guardian, Nero, but they had been unable to make it due to work engagements which meant they were sending someone else. A man named Happy Lowman.

A knock at the door broke you out of your train of thought, calling out a tired ‘Come in’ to whoever was in the corridor. The door opened to reveal an incredibly good looking man chewing on a toothpick, the tattoos that covered his arms making you just that little bit more attracted to him. You pushed yourself up into a standing position after Abel grunted in acknowledgement, gesturing for the man to take a seat on the chair next to you. It meant Abel couldn't see what was on the desk in front of you, and therefore delayed the inevitable tantrum that he'd throw when he saw what you were showing his parents’ friend.

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I'm Abel's art teacher” You held your hand out for him to shake, wincing a little when he gripped it tightly before sitting down next to you.

“Happy,” He replied gruffly, his deep tone sending shivers down your spine as you pulled Abel’s art folder towards you. “So what has he done now? Wendy says this ain't the first time you've called a meeting”

“I haven't done shit,” Abel defended from the back of the classroom, his arms folded over his chest and his eyes narrowing in your direction. “She just enjoys getting me into trouble for no fucking reason”

“Stop swearing, kid. It ain't big and it ain't clever” Happy snapped, glaring at the blonde haired boy and therefore rendering him silent. You were gobsmacked. You had never seen anybody manage to shut Abel up so quickly before.

“Abel, perhaps you'd like to go to the cafeteria while me and Mr Lowman talk? Or maybe the metal workshop, I know Mr Stone is eager to talk to you about some motorcycle he's working on” You suggested, your eyes following the lanky teenager as he pushed himself out of his chair and slung his backpack over his shoulder.

“See you later, Uncle Hap. Don't listen to anything she says, she's full of shit” Abel scowled, squeezing the older man’s shoulder before exiting the room with the door slamming behind him.

A silence fell between you after the boy's departure, unsure of how to start a conversation with the man next to you. Upon closer examination, he was more attractive than your first impression. His deep brown eyes were swimming with a combination of mystery and darkness and he had various scars that contrasted against his tan skin. It was his tattoos that drew you in though. The way in which they all merged into each other to decorate his body, a mixture of several different colours causing the black outline to accentuate the design perfectly. It may have been the fact you were a fan of Japanese culture but your attention was immediately captured by the lotus flowers tattooed on his wrists, confirming that they would be how the conversation started before you put a dampener on your meeting by showing him Abel’s disturbing artwork.

“Are you interested in Japanese culture then?” You said slowly, receiving a confused look from Happy in response. “I noticed you have two of them on your wrists, I just assumed…”

“Oh right,” he chuckled deeply, his gaze flitting to where his hands rested in his lap before returning to stare back at you once more. “I guess I like the spiritual meaning behind them, the whole purity and harmony stuff”

“I get that, I have a couple lotus flowers myself” You grinned, pulling your shirt back to reveal the Japanese themed sleeve tattoo that covered the majority of your right arm.

“Hey they're pretty cool,” he commented, his fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull it towards him and examine your tattoos closely. “You need a few of these touching up though. Not in a mean way! I'm a tattoo artist, I notice these things”

“It's fine, don't worry about it,” You shrugged, covering your tattoos with your shirt once more and flipping Abel’s art coursework folder. “Anyway we're here to discuss Abel, not my poorly done tattoos”

Happy laughed a little at your comment before falling silent at the sight of Abel’s drawings. To say they were troubling were an understatement. The pair of you spent the next fifteen minutes flipping through the folder, pausing at the more disturbing images to take in the amount of detail that had been put into them. There was one of a blonde haired man holding a gun, a cigarette dangling from his lips and blood coating his face. Another consisted of a slightly overweight man lying on a bench outside, his eye and several fingers having been removed horrifically judging by the blood and bruises that surrounded them. The most alarming one had to be his most recent piece of work though. It portrayed a thin, dark haired woman slumped against a blood splattered wall, a carving fork embedded into the top of her head whilst a considerably older woman wept in the corner, surrounded by broken crockery and a gun that lay discarded by her feet.

“As you can see, they're pretty horrifying” You declared once you had finished looking through, slipping the folder into a drawer in your desk and turning to face the bald man, his eyebrows knitted together with worry.

“Um yeah, just a little,” he stuttered, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously whilst figuring out what to say. “I assume you know the shit that he went through when he was younger?”

“I've read his file. I know all about his adoptive mother and his father’s suicide if that's what you mean,” You flashed him a sympathetic smile, knowing that he'd been close to Abel’s Dad when he'd been alive. “What concerns me is the amount of detail, like he witnessed all these events first hand”

“I can assure you that he didn't, it must just be something that he's imagined. I'll talk to him though, see what’s going on with him and try to sort it out” Happy said honestly, pausing as if he wanted to say something else but obviously thinking better of it.

“Feel free to say what you like, Mr Lowman,” You urged, knowing it'd be likely that you'll probably see him again in the near future. “If it can help Abel then I'd love to know what you're thinking”

“I was just wondering whether I could take that first drawing? It's of his dad and I know my friends and I would really appreciate it if we could have it” He asked cautiously, his eyes searching yours for any indication of you turning denying his odd request.

“But of course, Mr Lowman,” You nodded, opening the drawer and removing the picture he'd been talking about, handing it to him and accidentally brushing your fingers against his. Your eyes met his at the conact, unable to deny the spark of electricity that had coursed through you when you had grazed his calloused hands.

He shot you a grateful smile as he stood up from his seat, nodding at you whilst tucking the drawing under his arm and exiting the room with a slight swagger in his step. You let out a frustrated sigh once the door had closed. You couldn't believe that you had been so stupid as to let him leave without your number, especially when you were so attracted to him. You spent another five minutes in your classroom before making your way out to the lot, not catching sight of Happy leaning against your car until you stopped rummaging through your bag in search of your keys.

“Mr Lowman…” You began, stopping in front of him when you finally reached the beat up Sedan that you'd had since you were seventeen. “Is there something else you'd like to ask about Abel?”

“Call me Happy. And no, actually I wanted to speak about you. I was just wondering whether you'd want to hang out sometime, maybe go for a drink or something?” He smiled, raising his hand up to take a drag on his cigarette as your eyes flitted to where Abel was sat waiting on the back of a Harley Davidson, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I’m not sure whether that would be appropriate, Happy,” You sighed, although deep down you were feeling like an excited teenager all over again. “I don't usually date one of my student's guardians, even if they do have as many as Abel does”

“I'll pick you up on Friday after school, don't forget to bring a helmet. I'm all about that health and safety when it comes to riding bikes” He winked as he clearly ignored your previous comment, giving your hip an affectionate squeeze and making his way over to his motorbike where Abel high fived him triumphantly.

As you climbed into your car, you couldn't fight the smile that had crept onto your face. He looked over his shoulder at you one more time before he pulled out of the lot, flashing you one of his lop-sided grins as he kicked the bike stand with his heel and set off at an alarming speed. A small chuckle escaped your lips at his amount of attitude. It looked like you were going to have to go buy a motorcycle helmet on your way home.

#happy lowman imagine #sons of anarchy imagine #reader x happy lowman #soa imagine #abel teller

246 notes · View notes

rueur · 7 years

Text

Morning Pages #39 (03.03.2017)

Friday 3rd March - 10:18 a.m.

So it’s been two days since I wrote, but at least I’m writing in the morning again. I’m going to the gym in a bit, after my breakfast has had time to settle in my stomach, and then I’m going to be on my way to Northcote for the weekend and also for most of next week. I’ll have a bit of work to do over the weekend but hopefully nothing major, because Evan and I have a bit of a big weekend planned. I’m trying not to think about it yet though, because I am seeing him TOMORROW and I am incredibly excited for that. But I also acknowledge that there are things I’ll need to do before that happens, like my university readings for next week and my tutorial responses for two subjects. I also need to write my pitch for my journalism class, and I think I’ll have to do something for advanced screenwriting too, I just don’t know yet? I don’t know, it takes some time to get back into the habit of studying every week and getting to grips with coursework is perhaps a skill that one never really masters. At any rate, it’ll be nice to be on my own at Emily’s for this weekend, that is when Evan won’t be over. He’s coming over on Saturday, and again on Sunday. He’ll be staying over on Sunday, which I’m looking forward to because I was at his house yesterday and was very tempted to stay the night. It didn’t help that he was asking me to, of course, but the matter was settled when I received a phone call from my mother who wanted me to come home. He then took me to the station and I managed to catch the second last train (the 11:58 p.m.) back to South Morang, and managed to get to the station at 12:20 a.m., and thathi picked me up from there and took me home. I texted Evan good night when I got home, and then stayed up till about 2 in the morning packing my bags to take to Northcote today. The thing is, I haven’t actually told ammi and thathi that I’ll be in Northcote this weekend, or at least I don’t think I’ve said it. Okay, I’m halfway through this first page and I think I might finish this after the gym, after I’ve unpacked at Northcote? Because I just realised that it’s 10:30 a.m., and I can assume I’ll be at the gym for maybe an hour or so, which means I’ll be on my way to Northcote around noon if I’m lucky, maybe 12:30 p.m., and then I’ll have the rest of the day to do some work. I also have to go and see Lauren today, but I don’t know how that’s going to work. Like do I feed the cats first or do I feed them when I get back from seeing Lauren? I’m supposed to go and see her at 3 p.m., but I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do that because I have a responsibility to the cats. I need to send her a message and sort this out. It might mean heading down to South Yarra earlier, like around 1 maybe so that I can be home around 7 or 8 and then feed the cats then. Yes, that sounds good. I’ll sort that out in a bit, I just need to get the rest of my plans in order.

I won’t need a printer for this weekend because I don’t have any major assignments until the end of this month, but I will need to print out some resumes before I head out so that I can hand them out over the weekend. I think maybe fifteen should be fine, though that might even be a bit too much. Still, it’s better to have more than to have less, such is the way of this capitalist system which we both inhabit and maintain. I’m getting really frustrated with capitalism, which tends to happen with every new semester. I think all arts students are hyper aware of the failings of the structure of our global economy because it affects them a lot more than people who have more useful degrees. Artists can only thrive in prosperous nations, nations that have money to waste on the arts. That’s why the evolution of Colombo, Sri Lanka has been such a big deal not just for Sri Lankan citizens, but also to the international Sri Lankan community. It’s just such a blessing even watching the re-prioritisation of modern culture and artists in Sri Lanka following the civil war. Evan’s dad, Brian, and I had a rather interesting conversation about the Sri Lankan civil war amongst other things to do with my background, which he was very interested in. Okay, I’m going to have to talk about this later if I want to stay ahead of time today. I’m going to go and get ready for the gym and have a really great session today, and then I’m going to head off. I’ll return to today’s pages in a couple of hours, I think, at which point I’ll write a little more about seeing Evan’s place and meeting his parents, and WATCHING HIM PLAY!

I’m so sorry. It’s actually Saturday now, the 4th. It’s 11:14 a.m. and I am totally to blame for this massive spillage into today. I have decided however, that I will finish yesterday’s pages as well as do today’s pages later on today, just because it’s the weekend and I have time to kill. I’m also getting really into ‘The Progress of Julius’, the book by Daphne du Maurier that I bought in Northcote. I just listened to the song ‘Heaven Must Have Sent You’ by The Elgins and the whole time I was thinking of Evan. Now my computer is playing ‘Heaven Knows’ by Absynthe Minded. Elsa just died in ‘The Progress of Julius’ and she died knowing full well that Julius could have saved her life, and that he never had any intention of sending her to Switzerland to recuperate from her tuberculosis, but instead left her to die in England in the back room of his booming business (his one true love being his capital). She died staring right at him, wordless in her weakness, but her eyes revealing her knowledge of his betrayal, his abandonment of her. There seems to be a trend here. The whole world seems to be talking about love right now, and I know that the world generally does tend to talk about love. Love is perhaps the most important thing that could ever be. It’s the only positive thing we humans have managed to hold onto that exists in the ‘animal’ world, the world which we’ve mostly attempted to distance ourselves from by constructing our own world and then by filling this new meagre world with a plethora of endless distractions, distractions that cross over into one another so that there may never be a time that exists with little distraction. With any hope, a modern human being can cruise through their entire life without ever having to think at all. The three months leading up to her death, Elsa was oblivious to her forthcoming doom, only aware she was dying in her last few moments of life. Julius held her desperate hands in his own and just stared down at her, watching the life leave her with such a cruel detachment, feeling perhaps no remorse at all for lying to her during her last days on this earth. But in a way, Elsa also allowed herself to be distracted. She didn’t think at all about the fact that she was suffering, that she was on her deathbed even. She was so caught up in the thought of travelling somewhere else, leaving all of the ill fortune she had experienced in London, and going on to Switzerland which in her mind was so romanticised that it was definitely symbolic enough to be a kind of heaven for her. In a way, her travelling to Switzerland would have been a death in its own, and she was looking forward to it for that reason. She wasn’t happy in her life, she wanted to leave it. She just didn’t want to die.

I saw Lauren yesterday and we spoke about this briefly, how people will spend their lives being unhappy just for the sake of achieving something in lieu of happiness, usually money. People will devote all their time and energy into securing financial stability, believing financial stability to be the modern elixir of life and thus, of lasting happiness. She told me about a girlfriend she once had who had organised her entire young adult path and her subsequent career path into attaining monetary success, furthering herself in an academic field she had no interest in and then devoting herself to an industry she had no passion for, just so she can reach some abstract level of prestige. Lauren would try and reason with this person, and very often also questioned their decisions. Lauren asks questions from everybody she meets, myself included. They can actually be very helpful, and they were for me yesterday too. But I’ll get to that in a second. Anyway, when Lauren began to question this person, they would shut that conversation down almost immediately. And after a while they just broke contact with her all together, because they didn’t want anybody challenging their mindset and their plans, because it had taken enough self-persuading and conditioning of themselves to follow these plans in the first place. They have essentially done everything in their power to repress their true selves in any way available to them. Oh, I should also mention that this person is gay but nobody knows about that side of them, and they have no intention of coming out of the closet any time soon and Lauren was also baffled about that too. It’s like this woman didn’t really like herself at all.

I don’t know I’m writing about all of this. It just feels like the thing to be doing right now. I’m kind of waiting for Evan right now, and I’m getting antsy. He’s supposed to be over any second and I have music playing and I’m typing at breakneck speed right now, sitting on the couch at Emily’s place and just kind of...distracting myself. Passing the time. I’m singing a lot. Right now I’m singing ‘Love Lockdown’ by Kanye, which is an unbelievably sexy song for me honestly. I think it’s because they played it in ‘skins’ when Panda lost her virginity to Cook despite the fact that she had spent the entire night crying and missing Thomas. That episode was so powerful, holy shit. The entire show is fantastic, honestly. So well-written, so raw, and sincere. They seriously covered all the bases, I mean young people in the United Kingdom must feel so supported because their media is just so inclusive and non-judgemental. It’s a little infuriating looking at our media in comparison to theirs. I mean the ABC is good, and SBS is also fairly well-organised to an extent, but there’s very little there that’s been written for young adults. It’s either for children or middle aged people. Or older people, even. Maybe this is what I should be focusing on, in my writing. I should be writing for young people. Honestly though, I feel like that’s all I’ve been doing for a while. My film for example, is easily relatable to young people regardless of whether they’re ethnic or not. It’s all about fitting in anyway, and young people are usually the people who struggle in that field, because they’re still young enough to be self-conscious and to think that what other people think of them matters. Lauren was telling me that she’s grown past that now, and at the age of 21 she no longer feels stifling levels of being self-conscious. She just allows herself to live. I would like to reach that someday. Lord knows I need it. I waste so much of my energy fretting. I’m fretting right now. I’m very much over it.

#03.03.2017 #39 #morning pages

0 notes