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angstysebfan · 3 years

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The Truth Will Set You Free - Part 7

Pairing: Bucky x Female Reader, Thor x Reader (other Avenger characters)

AU: Modern

Summary: You dated for two years, and thought he was the one for you. One day you came home and found him with someone else. After running away from you, you return home and found yourself in the arms of Thor. When Thor decides to introduce you to his friends at a dinner, you realize that there’s something familiar about the house you were visiting.

Warnings: implied cheating, language (not proofread)

You sit in your living room, ignoring the TV in front of you. You think about everything that has happened over the last several days and can’t believe the whirlwind you have faced. Who knew when Thor brought you to meet his friends, you would be faced with the horror that was your old life. Only then to find out that Bucky never cheated on you.

You don’t know what to think anymore. You care so much for Thor. He has been so patient and kind, and you know he cares about you, maybe even loves you. Then there is Bucky, who was your first love. The man you thought you would be married to and have a million babies with. But do you still hold that love for him?

You decided to distance yourself from both of them. Of course you spoke with Thor, who completely understood why you needed space. You decided to not reach out to Bucky, as you told him when you spoke you needed time. Knowing him, you knew he would reach out when he couldn’t stand it anymore. In your distance you decided to try and not think about it, at least for a little while. You needed to destress before you could even think about what to do.

As you sit there, “not thinking about it”, you hear a knock on your door. You get up, hoping and praying it’s not Bucky, because you are so not ready for that conversation. You open the door to reveal yet another person you really didn’t want to see. You say nothing and just stare.

Shuffling her foot against the ground she asks quietly, “Can I come in?”

You open the door wider and allow Nat to enter your apartment. “How did you find me? I don’t remember giving you my new address,” you say flatly.

You see her gulp and again look down, “Uh, Thor actually gave me the address,” she says.

You are honestly shocked he would do that, but keep your mouth shut as you sit back on the couch. “So what do you want?” you ask.

She takes a deep breath as she sits, making sure to keep space, “I-I told everyone the truth. Something that I should have done years ago. I just... I just want to apologize again for.. ruining your life in the process of my bullshit,” she says.

You give a breathless laugh, “Yea, ruining my life is a pretty accurate summary of what you have done to me,” you say.

You look at her again and see the pain in her face. You sigh, so tired of drama, “How did they take it?” you ask.

She looks at you in surprise of your question, “Well. They all still want to be my friend. They were upset with me about what happened with you and Bucky, because I took complete responsibility for that, but they all accept me,” she says.

You nod, “As I knew they would. Which is why I still don’t understand why you would hold onto that secret knowing what happened between you, me and Bucky,” you say, annoyed.

“I wish that I could give you a reason and make things better, but honestly, Y/N, the truth is I was scared. I didn’t want to accept that it was my fault. I didn’t want to lose any more friends, when I already lost the most important one in my life, and the second most important one,” she says.

You look at her confused, “The second?” you ask.

“Bucky kicked me out. He stopped talking to me. He finally spoke with Steve after I came over and apologized, but he still refused to come to most hang outs if he knew I was there. It took almost 2 years before he would be in the same room as me,” she said.

You look at her in surprise, unable to comprehend what she just heard. Nat continued, “Even now he barely talks to me, but at least he will hang out with us. Him asking me to meet to tell you the truth was the first time he has spoken to me in a very long time,” she says.

You knew at this point, you keeping your distance was going to be short lived. You had to speak to them both, but you still needed to time to figure out what to say. You still had more questions that needed answers, especially after this news. You look at Nat, “Well, even if you were scared, it’s not right to make me look like the bad guy. You and Bucky just let me look terrible to our friends,” you say.

You remember what Steve told you, and knew that you said, wasn’t 100% true, but you wanted Nat to feel bad after everything so you said it. Nat nodded, “You’re right. I’m selfish. I always have been. I liked being the center of attention and I love having people love me. When I thought that could slip away, I made sure it didn’t. When I knew Bucky wasn’t going to say anything, I decided to keep my mouth shut too. I never thought I would see you again. I know that sounds bad, but it’s the truth. I--” she stops and sighs.

“I loved you. I would have loved to have you love me back. I was ok with being your best friend because it gave me a piece of you. I would have stood beside you at your wedding and allow my heart to break into pieces to see you happy. When I ruined that? I- I lost myself and decided that if I couldn’t have you as a friend, then... I turned back into the selfish bitch I was. And all I can say to you is that I am so sorry. I know it doesn’t make it better,--”

“You’re right it doesn’t. Because while I can understand you being nervous and afraid to tell the people that you love that you are not who appear to be, it doesn’t give you the right to throw me under the bus to make yourself feel better,” you say and then scoff. “You say you love me, but I honestly don’t think you know the first thing about love, because you would never have let me reputation fall like that if you loved me,” you say.

Nat looks down at her hands and you see tears falling. “You know we can never go back to the way things were, right?” you ask her.

She refuses to look up at you but nods as the tears fall. You sigh, suddenly exhausted, “Whether I am with Thor or.... whatever, we cannot be friends. I will still hang out and will acknowledge your existence, but that will be all for a very long time,” you say.

Nat chokes on a sob as she nods, finally looking at you. “I--I understand. And no matter who you choose, you will have a man that loves you, and I promise to stay out of the way,” she says.

Before you can respond, she stands and walks out the front door. You sit there in silence for a moment before you finally cover your face with your hands and cry. If that was so difficult, how are you going to deal with your next decision?

Part 6 / Part 8

Sorry this took so long and was so short. I needed to get Nat’s part finalized so that we can now focus on the guys. Now who will she choose? I have heard your thoughts, and I have to say I am on the fence. We shall see in the coming parts. Feedback is appreciated.

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harmonie-writes · 5 years

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Baba Yaga - Happy End

Quirk: Dream-Scaping/putting people to sleep - when your quirk is active black sandy-mist comes off the black ivy patterns that swirls across your body while your eyes become a grey fog color. When someone falls under the Reader’s gaze their eye color will match and become paralyzed by fear. The other part of the quirk is shooting a black sand-like mist into the opponents eyes and they will fall asleep with nightmares. Your quirk is actually quite beautiful to someone who is viewing it from the outside watching as the black mist rolls off the ivy patterns of your skin.

AN: italics are thoughts and past events

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Baba Yaga pt. 1 I pt. 2 I pt. 3

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Recap:

- Holding your free hand to your face you tried hiding your tear stained face even though you know Midoriya could hear your broken sobs

- His heart clenched seeing you so broken

- Bring you into his chest he held you as you cried out

- “When you feel comfortable will you please tell me about that offer you were made?”

- Hiccupping you wiped your eyes, “I don’t think you would want to know that or the answer I come to…”

- Midoriya’s hand hesitated on your back as he let just that information set in

- It dawned on him that you might run away again

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- Pulling away from the hug slightly Midoriya tilted your face up so he could get a good look at you

- “You don’t plan on running again are you?” the intensity of his emerald eyes bore into yours

- He noticed that your eyes were clouded with emotions, it was a complete hurricane inside your (e/c) orbs. He also couldn’t help but take time to stare at the black ivy that peaked out of your shirt collar and resting just at the bottom of your chin.

- Letting out a shaky breath you tried containing your sniffling. “I-I don’t know... I haven’t decided...”

- Nodding Midoriya helped you back to your feet and tried wiping away your remaining tears

- I can’t believe I didn’t give her a chance back then... we used to be so close...

- Giving Midoriya a shaky smile you squeezed his hand before letting go and slipping back into the school heading toward class

- Picking up his hero notebook and the rest of his belongings he followed behind you, but he mind was occupied on what he could do to make you stay. To actually give 1-A a chance.

- Rubbing your cheeks you tried to remove any trace that you had been crying, although you knew your attempts were probably in vain it couldn’t hurt right?

- Sliding into your desk you just wished the day to be over

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- Packing your bag you got ready to leave until you felt a hand placed on your shoulder. You tensed immediately at the foreign contact

- “Relax (Y/N) its me...” the owner of the warm hand replied. Turning to look at the hand you followed it to its owner.

- “Can I help you?” you asked looking away from the ash blonde male

- You heard him huff before your were physically turned towards said male

- You glanced around the room noticing that most people had already left or were at least waiting outside the classroom before looking back at the tall male

- “I just wanted to apologize... for well everything,” Bakugou muttered so only you would hear.

- You stared at him for a solid minute unable to comprehend what exactly was happening until he flicked your forehead

- “Oh um thank you Bakugou...” you told him that, but you weren’t sure if you were quite ready to forgive yet

- “Take your time and I will see you later,” Bakugou shrugged and walked away and you watched his figure disappear through the door before going back to packing your belongings

- At least they’re trying...I guess

- Walking back down the usual way you go to and from UA you were lost in your thoughts until you made it into the safety of your quiet apartment

- You had lost to contemplate: Could you ever be their friend again? Would you even want to?

- Lifting your hand you pointed your index finger and little bits of black sand started rolling off the ivy patterns enough to create a small black horse that ran around your room

- Ah yes, the little nightmares you have learned to shape on command. You were proud of your own progress and smiled as the small nightmare pranced around above your head

- Could your quirk even be heroic?

- Waking up the next morning you looked over at your phone and noticed that you had been added to 1A’s group chat and that everyone was planning on going out for dinner after class. You even saw that Midoriya persoanlly extended that invitation to you in the chat

- I guess he really is trying to be the friend he should’ve been just like he said...

- Rubbing the sleep from your eyes you got on with your day

- Entering the classroom Midoriya’s head turned and saw it was you. His smile was sad for a brief moment as he looked at you remembering yesterday’s conversation, but that changed when he thought about the class’ plan for the evening.

- “Hey (Y/N)!” Midoriya walked up to your desk. “Do you plan on going tonight?” He looked at you with hopeful eyes.

- Studying him you looked closely at his eyes. You know they say the eyes are the window to a person’s soul. You were checking to see if his eyes held anything other than being hopeful/eager to try and be your friend again. You didn’t want to see guilt and apart of you thought that if you saw guilt in his eyes that he was only doing it to make himself feel better, not you.

- But you didn’t see anything. Just Midoriya being well Midoriya.

- “I guess it’ll be fun to go...” you trailed off as you looked away from his eyes and happened to miss the smile that touched his face, but you heard the smile in his reply.

- “It’ll be amazing! I want to know more about everything!” the excitement in his voice was contagious and you tried hiding your smile behind your textbook, but Midoriya still saw it.

- The observant little shit

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- “We need to go check in on our little nightmare tonight and see what her decision is,” Shigaraki said holding onto his game console and looked over at Dabi.

- If anyone could persuade you to join them again it would be Dabi

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- “So Midoriya,” you walked up to the greenette and his friends, “what exactly is the plan for tonight?”

- Everyone gave a smile or a hello to you showing up. Honestly they were a little surprised and relieved that you decided to come.

- “Well we are going to that one ramen place that everyone has agreed on and then might do something after, but we haven’t gotten that far. Does that sound okay to you?” He asked and received a nod.

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- After dinner you were all walking along the beach

- You were actually happy! Your classmates didn’t act scared of your quirk and you were relieved that none of them seemed to be acting

- Everything was fine and dandy until you saw that all too familiar black and purple mist

- “Shit...” you muttered and Midoriya turned to look at you and based off your alarmed facial expression this couldn’t be a good thing

- “Be ready! We have seen this before!” Iida called somewhere in front and everyone, but you got into a fighting position

- You clasped your hands together in worry, because you weren’t sure why they would all becoming or how they knew where to find you

- Seeing the very familiar build of the fire user made your breath catch

- Fucking dammit you thought as you watched him make his way forward only to stop a few yards in front of you as the rest of the league walked out behind him

- To the league they couldn’t see you in the back so Dabi called out. “(Y/N)! We want to talk!”

- All of your classmates looked at you with alarm in their eyes, one thought being shared (other than Midoriya): did she set us up?

- Your classmates made way as you walked through them, but they were confused on why you looked anxious, scared even

- Stopping in front of your classmates you finally looked up to meet eyes with Dabi and the rest of the LOV

- “Have you made a decision little nightmare?” Dabi asked his tone somewhere between demanding but held a bit of gentleness (c’mon it was you)

- “I-I” you started but were cut off

- “What the hell does it matter to you scar face?” Bakugou pushed you behind him with Kirishima on his left.

- “We aren’t here for you blondie. We only came for the nightmare.” Kirogiri said locking eyes with you

- “The hell (Y/N) is going with you bastards!” Bakugou wanting to protect you, even though it came out as anger got the best of him

- “We can either do this the easy way (Y/N) or the hard way.”

- At this point Jirou had gently pulled you to the back of the class again in an attempt to hide you

- “The hard way it is then.”

- The league started charging at 1A, the people who were trying to protect you

- Correction, your friends were protecting you, and you watched as some got thrown around, beat and cut up from villains

- At first you didn’t know what to do until you saw your friends starting to struggle

- “ENOUGH!” your voice carried over the battlefield and some people stopped what they were doing to look at you

- Throwing off your jacket you revealed your bare arms and held them up. Your eyes became milky white as you raised your arms up and pointed them in front of you. Black, sandy tendrils started coiling off the ivy that was visible, and your hair stood on end being blown by the nonexistent wind.

- At this point almost all eyes were on you, fear. The very thing that made your quirk oh so powerful. No one knew who your target was, but they would soon find out.

- The mass of black that formed behind you started separating and shaping themselves

- As they looked on they watched the black sand become large horses

- “Sweet dreams,” you muttered before the black horse charged forward leaving behind wispy trails of sand.

- It was almost as if everything was happening in slow motion

- Your friends watched as the horses charged passed them and collided with the villains and dissipating into the black sand again leaving them paralyzed in their own nightmares

- “Iida!” you called, but kept your focus on maintaining the paralysis of fear in the individuals who were caught in the sand

- Running over to you he looked down at you. “Get the teachers and the police! Hurry!”

- Hearing him sprint off you turned your focus back to the task at hand

- Slowly 1A made their way to your side in awe of the power that you quirk could do.

- “Momo I need you to do me a favor,” you said not looking in her direction, afraid that the loss of concentration will break your hold on them

- “Anything. What do you need?” “Rope or anything to bind their hands and feet.” Nodding she started creating a strong material that couldn’t be broken

- “Bakugou,” you grunted out feeling sweat starting to form on your brow, “I need you and a few others to remove any weapons they might have on them.”

- “You heard the lady. Lets go,” Bakugou said as a few other boys followed him to neutralize the situation while the others started tying up the captured

- Upon hearing the authorities and some teachers you released your hold on the villains and slumped to the ground

- Midoriya ran up to your limp body and picked you up

- Everyone looked back to the villains you held captured and watched as the black sand slowly trickled away from them and back to you before disappearing

- “What happened here?” Aizawa asked walking up to Midoriya to looked at your unconscious form in his arms

- “The League came to take her back. Fighting started but (Y/N) managed to paralyze those who didn’t escape and neutralize the problem,” Todoroki said coming up to stand next to the shorter male

- An officer wrote down the report. “We will need (Y/N)’s testimony as well when they wake up,” the officer said glancing down at you before hauling the captured villains into police cars

- Eyes fluttering open you breathed in a gasp as you looked around

- Dear God you startled the poor boy who was holding, literally almost caused him to drop you

- “I’m so sorry I have ever doubted you (Y/N),” Midoriya said hugging you tightly, “you will make an incredible hero.”

- Smiling tiredly you returned the hug until he held you at arms length and started shaking you

- “When could you make shapes with the sand!?” Midoriya asked shaking you by your shoulders

- Laughing you shook him back, “They’re dreams Midoriya! They can always be manipulated!”

- “Not bad Nightmare,” Bakugou said ruffling your hair. Huffing you fixed your hair sending the blonde a playful glare

- “Oh I will show you a nightmare,” You teased flicking your wrist at him making him flinch, but nothing happened

- He just saw you laughing as you made a quick get away from him, and he gave chase after you while yelling

- “Yeah she is going to make a great hero,” Midoriya said crossing his arms watching his old friend and his old friend now new friend chase each other

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AN: Hello everyone! Here is the first part of the two endings for Baba Yaga! Thank you everyone who has been supportive to this fanfic! 🖤-dvoz

#dvoz-writes #babayaga #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #mha #midoriya #bakugou #midoriya x reader #bakugou x reader #boku no hero academia #my hero academia

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jd-loves-everyone · 4 years

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Chapter 1: Lee Minho

At the age of 12, the school's yearly talent contest was probably the less exciting thing about my life, unlike what most of my peers thought. Not that it was boring but, considering I didn't have anything I practiced and/or was confident enough in to show off, I just felt slightly bad for all the dreams crushed at that damned event.

I could practically smell the sweat and tears (thankfully not literally) that would be spilled on the raised wooden stage as me and my friend, Maia, entered the auditorium.

Maia, my friend since the beginning of that year (not quite my BEST friend yet, but maybe ONE of them), with what I thought was an unmatched talent for musical theatre, was sat beside me.

She was supposed to be behind those giant puke green curtains, getting ready to take the award home. But because of a twisted ankle, she was unable to (something she cried about for at least a week, unlike what I would've done).

Even in that moment I couldn't understand why she'd want to even come see the contest, considering it would only hurt her more. But I didn't question it, and instead continued to make meaningless conversation with her about our day, as parents and children began to fill the space.

The show began shortly after the (way too long) speech from the principal about how we should all enjoy the show and have fun and all that.

I somewhat space after the disappointment that was the first girl, I feel some pity for her, being the first one to perform must not be easy. I did want to comment with Maia on it but she seemed to be in her own dimension, as I could also see the thoughts going through her head at 100 miles per hour, so I zoned out.

I remember seeing a boy with an exceptionally beautiful voice, which both me and Maia nodded along to and clapped extra hard for (even if when had been politely clapping for every participant, we gave it a LITTLE more effort that time), and I can recall little less.

There apparently were a lot more students participating that year, because the show to drag on forever and move slower than a snail, which quickly got pretty boring. I returned my attention to the brightly lit stage when seeing Maia sit a little straighter in her stair out of the corner of my eye in anticipation.

The contestant announced was "Lee Minho, the Dancing Gem."

'That's a bit much.' Was what I was planning to comment to Maia, before I saw the look of admiration in her eyes and the bittersweet up turn of her lips.

"You know him?" I asked instead. Her whole demeanor changed as she energetically turned to me.

"Do I know him? Who doesn't?! He's the most talented dancer in the district, I can guarantee you. My teacher watched him dance at a competition once and said that he had the potential to win at least a few national awards at just 13. That has to count for something." She declared passionately, waving her arms about.

I hummed a quiet (and unsure) 'we'll see', before turning towards the stage once more as the spotlights focused on the centre as the thick curtains parted slightly to let the next competitor through.

Upon first glance, there was nothing too special about his appearance. He was of average height, with somewhat broad shoulders covered by a white shirt, long legs dressed in ripped blue jeans and sneakers on his feet. That plus the usual straight black hair in the usual hairstyle really didn't make him stand out much. But god, was his face enough to make him stand out.

The best way to describe it was, pretty. He was just too pretty to be real.

He had double-lidded cat like eyes, a sharp and thin nose and a not too sharp nor too soft jawline. The most curious thing about his appearance was what I like to call a 'cat smile', a smile where the corners of the lips turned upwards while the rest remained in a straight line. It all just seemed to work. I could already imagine my mother saying something like 'Either puberty came earlier for him or he's gonna be a model when it does' and at that moment, I couldn't agree more with the imaginative comment.

'The beauty of simplicity' is as close as I could get to making justice to his features.

"You seem very focused now compared to earlier." Maia commented cheekily, making me blush. I couldn't even formulate an answer (to the clear jab at my ego), too caught up in wondering about truthfulness of it. Did he catch my attention more than the others? Obviously yes (not that they could really compare to him). Do I find him undeniably attractive? Hell yes. 'Oh god. I think I just got my first crush.'

I momentarily pushed those troublesome thoughts aside, instead focusing on the performance. And thank god I did, I soon realized I would've hated to miss even a second of the stunning act.

The way he moved was captivating in its own way. It looked natural, almost effortless, but it was also easy to tell that a lot of strict planning was involved, every move was flawless and not a centimeter out of place.

It was mesmerizing to watch, the charisma radiated from him in waves from the beginning all the way to the end of the performance.

When it ended, I became aware of the flabbergasted expression I had on my face, jaw slack and eyes wide in awe. It was too much for my young brain to fully comprehend. And maybe it was my, still recovering, brain playing tricks on me, but I swore he locked eyes with me as he bowed respectfully, throwing one of those cat-like smiles in my direction before exiting the stage. Probably didn't happen.

Well, if I THOUGHT I had a crush just by looking at him, I was sure of it after seeing him dance. That and I had just discovered my new passion.

"Dude, my teacher was right. He is SO much better in person." Maia commented lightly, turning my way. She was only met with my wide eyes and flushed cheeks as I realized...

"I have a crush on Lee Minho... And I really wanna learn how to dance." Maia blinked owlishly at my declaration, before bursting out into laughter.

"Oh, you got it bad huh. Well, maybe you can talk to him after the show." She said teasingly, holding back from letting her lips spread out into a wide cheshire grin.

"Oh please. I'd just be bothering him." My blush darkened, mentally dismissing the idea immediately. Like he'd care about what I had to say.

"Come on, why not? I'm sure he'd appreciate it." Maia said, genuinely this time, as I looked at her doubtfully.

The show was over in no time, as I pondered about whether or not I should actually go and talk to my new found crush, as Maia pestered me to do so.

The awards were given out, Minho winning first place (which came as a surprise to no one), the other awards going to people who frankly weren't that great but it wasn't like the whole selection was anything extraordinary. They were the best of the worst you could say, mediocre at best. But who am I to judge, they were just kids, but I guess my standard rose a little too high after Minho's breathtaking and heart-shatteringly captivating performance.

I eventually relented, getting up and stomping with a newfound determination to the main school hall where everyone had gathered after the show, looking around.

The hall was filled to the brim with parents and students alike, chatting lively and congratulating each other (some simply for participating).

It was hard to make out anyone's face clearly in the ocean of people, but nonetheless I tried my best to look for the star of the night, despite the nerves and anxiety sizzling in my gut.

I finally caught a glimpse of him as he was leaving the hall towards the outside of the building, probably hoping to not be bothered as he probably had already been bombarded by questions and praises all night. I stood there, in a slight moment of hesitation. 'Maybe he went outside because he wanted space, I really shouldn't bother him.'

I, mentally, shook that thought out of my head, if I wanted to talk to him it had to be now or I'd never do it.

I began walking toward the door leading outside, pulling it open with probably more strength than necessary.

As I stepped outside, I saw the boy of the night, sitting on the stone stepped right outside the door, looking up at the tall buildings surrounding the school.

Upon hearing the door slam closed, Minho turned in my direction to see who had just stepped outside, a stern but subtle furrow in his eyebrows.

"Hey can I bother you for a few minutes?" I spoke with surprising confidence, that even I didn't expect.

Due to his seemingly annoyed facial expression, I thought the answer might've been a no, but his eyes widened as he carefully took in my features, what looked like recognition flashing through his eyes. It was hard to tell what it was exactly because of his calm, maybe even cold, expression. I might've missed the changes if I wasn't paying close attention to his face (which got harder and harder as I looked at how his eyes seemed to spark like stars. Which was honestly, unfairly distracting.

"You don't bother." He finally spoke, patting the stone next to him, for me to sit.

"We'll see about that in a few minutes." I said jokingly as I sat next to him. From the corner of my eye, I could see a slight, microscopical upturn in his lips. A break in his mask, perhaps.

"I... I know you've either heard this too many times already, or if not it's gonna sound really weird but... I-I... Just wanted to say that..." I tried my best to get the words out, but it got nearly impossible as I felt his curious eye on the side of my down turned face.

"You know what? Forget it. It's not even that--"

"Important? I think it is, if this hard to get it out. Come on, don't leave me hanging now." He cut me off with a light chuckle, a gentle and encouraging smile on his lips when I turned towards his voice at the interruption.

"Well... It's kind of silly but... I just wanted to say that... I sort of, fell in love with dancing because of you. Watching you perform really, ignited something in me. And I think I really just meant to say thank you for giving me something to be passionate about." As I finished I started rubbing my arms, it seemed like that temperature had dropped a few degrees. Or maybe it was just the contrast of the chilly night air with my blushing cheeks.

At his silence, I slowly lifted my head to gage his reaction. I found shock written all over his face, the last crack on his emotionless mask making it shatter completely. I also found that the expression he wore was absolutely adorable, making me unintentionally let out a small giggle, which seemed to make him snap out of whatever trance he had been under. It also seemed to ease the tense atmosphere that had built up around us due to his previous lack of reaction and my own nerves.

He looked as if he was holding back a smile of his own, but it broke through his facade as he turned towards the buildings once again, their lights reflecting in his eyes.

"You were wrong you know? No one has ever said that to me before and it's not weird at all either. It's actually really touching. I never thought I had that effect on other people, I just thought all of them felt a sort of enjoyment at watching me. I never imagined I could move someone's emotions like that." He admitted chuckling, his eyes seeming to hold a new, beautiful shine to them.

"Well, now you know." I said awkwardly, fiddling with my sleeves. His stare was just a bit too intense for me to handle, making my blush darken (if possible).

"If you're serious about dancing, maybe you should join the dance club. I'm part of it, so I could help you out if you need it."

"Oh no, I don't know if that'd be a good idea. I would just be slowing you down." I said, furiously shaking my head in denial.

"It's no problem at all! I'm actually thinking of becoming a dance teacher when I grow up so, helping YOU helps ME." He smiled cutely.

'Why are you so damn cute?!'

"If it really isn't a problem, I guess I could try at least one class. Just to see if I like it. But I don't promise that I will!" I gave in after looking into his pleading eyes and (adorable) pouty lips. The contrast between his expression at that moment and at the beginning of our conversation was almost enough to give me whiplash. I preferred this expression much more.

We continued to talk for what seemed like an hour, though I couldn't be sure.

I did, in fact, join the school's dance club and stayed in it all the way up to high school (which wasn't covered by our school so we had to move, luckily we went to the same one, something I very anxious about).

In the dance club, I realized that it was a good idea for Minho to become a dance teacher. Under his guidance, I quickly got used to my new hobby, which soon turned into passion. He made everything seem easy and simple, and moved in a way that highlighted the precision of his moves.

I didn't think he could improve his dancing anymore, but he proved me wrong, as it had become usual, by continuing to win various awards which only got bigger and bigger.

As my love for dancing grew, so did my crush on him, as I got to see more of his 4D personality, and met his 3 adorable cats: Soon-ie, Doong-ie and Dori. I was even there when he got Dori, so I was pretty attached to the cat. (To all of them, as they were just absolutely adorable).

I've also experienced his slight... change in personality. How he became flirtier, how his compliments became bolder and how he became touchier. I tried not to think much of it, but I couldn't help but be hopeful, as those compliments weren't directed at everyone.

It only served to fuel this hope further when Hyunjin, a younger (and very handsome) dancer joined our highschool's dance club, since then we only seemed to get closer.

The moment I realised that my feelings for Minho were more than a meaningless childhood crush was actually a chain of events, not exactly one moment. Sometime after Hyunjin had joined the dance club.

It was time to go home after a long afternoon of practice, most other students had already left, bit me, Hyunjin, Minho and a few others had stayed behind to slowly pack up and tidy up the room. I was picking up my duffel bag, ready to head out, when Hyunjin called out to me. I walked over to where he, Minho and a couple other guys were gathered.

The others looked as if they were up to no good, which had me kind of curious, but I didn't dwell on it and instead turned to the one who had called me over. He also seemed odd, fiddling with his fingers nervously, his cheeks pink from something other than exertion.

"Hey. What's up?" I asked, hoping to snap the boy out of his little bubble. Seeing him like this wasn't usual, and was pretty entertaining to watch, but I didn't that snapping him out of it was the better option.

"H-Hey! Uh, well, I--" Deep breath.

"I was gonna ask you if you'd, maybe, want to go have coffee with me? Today, perhaps?" He managed after calming down, looking ready to be rejected. (Apparently. Would anyone actually reject him? No. So why was he so scared that I would?)

"O-Oh, I mean, yeah, I'd love to." I immediately felt a pang of guilt in my chest. 'What about Maia?' I thought. 'But it doesn't need to be a date, I could just try to tell him how awesome she is.' I thought, slightly bitterly, I did want a date with Hyunjin, but as my (best)friend, Maia was a priority. (Just spending time with him wouldn't hurt either).

As I accepted, Hyunjin got a small, shy smile on his face, his blush getting even darker. The boys around him laughed, patting his back. I caught a glimpse of Minho's face, his eyes were wide, jaw slack in disbelief. I brushed it off.

"Should we get going? It might get late--" I started, before being interrupted by Minho.

"Actually, she can't go today. She needs to... Help me with my cat! Yeah! I need some help with Dori!" It was clear he had made it up, but considering it was extremely out of character for him, it must have been important so I relented.

"Sorry Hyunjin, I'm gonna go with Minho. Raincheck to another day?"

Hyunjin nodded, somewhat sadly, as Minho basically dragged me out of the room by the arm as I tried to wave everyone goodbye.

Once we were out of the building, we settled into a comfortable walking pace towards the bus stop, as I texted Chan saying that he didn't need to pick me up today.

The bus ride was mostly silent (which was unusual), save for the small talk each of us tried to make. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but not exactly wanted either.

As we were walking down his street, nearing his house, I decided to finally ask the question that had been bugging me.

"Do you REALLY need my help with Dori? I mean, I know she likes me better, but it's still manageable right?" I said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

He looked as if he'd been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

"She doesn't like you THAT much. But I'll admit, that wasn't my actual intention." He said sheepishly. I was finally able to put 2 and 2 together, even if it was highly unlikely.

"Wait. Were you jealous?" The question made him hesitate as he was unlocking the door to his house.

"Uh, I... You know. Uh, you know what, I don't even REALLY know why I did it anyway." He sounded sincere enough, so despite my curiosity, I dropped the subject as he seemed genuinely torn.

"Welcome. My parents won't be home until later, so we're alone for now." He walked in, taking off his jacket as I put down my duffle bag, already heading towards the living, where the cats would most likely be.

As I approached the room, I could already hear them scratching at the door and meowing loudly. I opened the door, petting Soon-ie and Doong-ie as I passed them, heading towards the window on the far end of the room, Dori's favorite spot because of the heat the sun provided when it hit.

And there she was, laying in the last remains of the already setting sun. And with no signs of injury or anything to be worried about whatsoever.

"So, what exactly was wrong with her?" I turned to Minho as he entered with a teasing look, already anticipating his answer.

"I told you already, didn't I? I lied. Not sure why though." He walked to where Dori was sat, reaching to stroke her head, making her purr in delight, as the others also got closer to their owner at the chance to get petted. In response, Minho sat down next to the newest kitten, as Soon-ie and Doong-ie tried to climb onto his lap at the same time. This made him giggle, trying his best to satisfy every one of his "children".

It was like the world froze or slowed down in that moment.

The best was to describe the way Minho looked at that moment would be angelic, but even that wouldn't cover it.

His dark hair shone in the sun, looking too soft to resist, his dark eyes gazed fondly at his pets as a beautiful, peaceful and joyful smile broke out across his face. The sun framed the scene perfectly, making look picturesque, and suddenly I wished I had my camera with me at that moment to truly capture it in all its beauty.

I realized that the difference between our first meeting and then, was humongous, in the best way possible. He had become so open to me and so... Lively and relaxed. I loved the change.

That was the moment when I realized that my crush for Lee Minho was not going away anytime soon and that it wasn't just a silly childhood crush that would disappear in 2 weeks to a month. It was there, in my heart, to stay.

"You gonna just stand there looking weird? I know you love looking at my face but..." He directed that heavenly smile toward me as he spoke.

On that day, not only did I realize the extent of my feelings for Minho, he also realized the nature of his feelings for me.

#Lee Minho #skz #stray kids x reader #skz minho #lee know #minho #to all the boys i've loved before #stray kids #skz x reader #skz x you #to all the boys #fanfic #kpop #kpop x reader

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lilith-lovett · 5 years

Text

Found Families - Home is Where the Hart is - Chapter 5

Chapter five, another long one. I’m sorry. I hope you continue to enjoy this series and thank you to all who liked, reblogged and left supportive comments. I appreciate them.

Masterlist

Summary: Patton learns about Logan’s past and Logan goes to Maggie to talk about his new and complicated emotions.

Word Count: 5027 (This is a long one)

Warnings: Child abuse, Abuse of power, Implied panic attack, Self-deprecation, Crying, Bullying, Description of physical injuries, Physical violence. (If there is any I have missed please let me know).

“Mr Hart I do believe young Logan has taken a shine to you, will you be scheduling another session?” Mrs Davis asked from behind the front desk, pen already in hand.

“Yes, for tomorrow please,” Patton responded unable to quell the excitement bubbling within his stomach, praying to the gods for tomorrow to come sooner.

“Tomorrow? So soon,” She inquired quirking a brow at Patton in surprise, the pen halting in it’s position on the page.

“Of course. And if you don’t mind I have some questions I’d like to ask you about Logan’s background,” Patton said, some of the bubbles dying within his belly as he broached the serious topic.

“Ah yes I’ll be happy to answer any of your questions to the best of my ability. Though I do warn you his past is not a pleasant one,” She said he voice dropping as if to prevent any of the other matrons mulling around to overhear. Patton’s heart dropped, he’d suspected Logan would have come from a difficult background but that fact being confirmed made his skin crawl.

“I want to hear it,” Patton said without a hint of hesitation but concealing the slight tremble in his voice.

“I guess I’ll start from the beginning then. Well how to put this, Logan came from an abusive household. His parents were quite well-known actually and when it was revealed around four years ago it was big news you may have heard of it yourself, on the News and everything. The Baxter Case. That is what they called it both received ten years sentences and Logan was put into care, now I don’t know much about his first Orphanage but I did hear from the last place that it was a nightmare he barely lasted a month there until they sent him away. The second place he was there for a couple of years but by then he had gained his…um…reputation and nobody would even look at the boy so they sent him here but I’m afraid we haven’t had much luck with him either until of course you came along. Well I’m sorry that is just about all I know we matrons don’t get told very much and Logan refuses to open up to anyone except for that teacher but oh well boys will be boys I suppose. Does that answer any of you questions?”. Mrs Davis concluded leaning against the desk arms folded across her chest.

Patton had been stunned into silence by the causality in her voice as she spoke about such horrible acts when he himself felt sick to his stomach. The Baxter Case, he had heard of it and the case had been the first time he questioned his morals regarding prisoners. Ten years, though he was a believer in the rehabilitation of prisoners that was much to short a time for the years of anguish their child would be forced to endure because of their inhuman actions and now knowing that child was Logan. The brilliant, kind and considerate Logan who did not deserve what he went through.

“Mr Hart, are you alright?” Mrs Davis’s asked presumably growing concerned as a result of Patton’s vacant expression and prolonged silence. He quickly snapped out of it returning to his bubbly self.

“Oh yes, it was just difficult to hear,” Patton responded plastering on the most authentic smile he could muster to avoid drawing any more concern.

“It is quite the tragic tale,” A voice cut through the air like a knife, high-pitched holding a hint of mockery in her tone which Patton could easily detect having a knack for observing the subtle changes in a persons body language or voice others would simply overlook. “And you must be Mr Hart,”.

“I am and you are?” Patton replied stretching out a hand in a greeting towards the plump woman having come into view, dressed in rather extravagant clothing one would not consider appropriate attire for an Orphanage but Patton wasn’t one to judge. Ebony locks striped with streaks of silver twisted into an elaborate up-do secured with a bejewelled hair pin and a her face made up. Honestly surprising Patton slightly by her appearance.

“Madame Claire, the owner of this fine establishment, it is a pleasure to meet the man who has shown such interest in our dear Logan,” The woman Madame Claire said manoeuvring herself in between Patton and Mrs Davis, presumably signifying the other matron to return to her work, leaving very little space separating herself and Patton. “Such hardships have changed him over the years I do warn you, he has a tendency to be problematic and being so young and inexperienced yourself do you really wish for such a troublesome child?”.

Patton couldn’t quite believe his ears. Was she attempting to deter him from adopting Logan? He had experienced people assuming he was much younger than he actually was. No surprise there but he had never in his years of visiting care homes and orphanages ever had someone advise against a particular child. He couldn’t comprehend why all of the matrons held such disdain towards Logan, speaking only of his faults instead of his numerous good qualities and talents. Patton tried desperately not to allow his true frustration and irritation to display on his face, he hated confrontation and did not wish to start a fight with the owner of the Orphanage who could easily throw him out and forbid him for seeing Logan so he bit his tongue plastering on one of his best smiles before eventually responding.

“Actually you are mistaken ma’am, I have three kiddos at home all adopted,” Patton explained smiling as he corrected her.

“Oh well, you and your wife certainly have your hands-full,” Another frequent assumptions that Patton was not a single father and his ‘wife’ was at home with the kids which bothered him a lot more than he’d like to admit and though he didn’t openly display his sexuality for the world he hated when people would assume he was straight.

“There is no wife I’m afraid, no husband either It’s just me,” Patton said giggling internally at Madame Claire’s wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression before returning to her former composed state though a trace of surprise still remained.

“You have quite the unconventional home life Mr Hart,” She replied a tight-lipped smile spread across her lips.

Patton didn’t respond only nodding not quite trusting his voice or his steadily wearing patience, he prided himself on being forgiving and it wasn’t often that people tested that self-control but on occasions such as this one he found it easier to keep quiet.

“Please take my warning into consideration, it seems to me you already have quite a chaotic home-life you do not need a difficult child such as Logan to add to your worries,” She continued berating Logan in every available opportunity but it made Patton want to adopt him all the more.

“Do not worry about me I think I’ll manage, and-” He paused turning back towards Mrs Davis who was typing away on her computer, eyes darting up every so often so to listen in to their conversation presumably to relay to her fellow co-workers later on. “I would like to confirm my session with Logan for tomorrow,”. One of his best smiles stretched across his face, watching Madame Claire’s priceless expression through his peripheral vision.

“Of course, Mr Hart,” Mrs Davis replied.

“I do hope to see you again sometime Mr Hart,” Madame Claire said before disappearing down the corridor, the sound of her heels striking the floor echoing through the hallway.

Patton nodded before turning and leaving as quickly as he could, revelling in the cool air flooding his aching lungs as his erratic breathing began to ease and he no longer gasped for air. A sickish feeling sunk deep into his stomach as he recalled Madame Claire words specifically those regarding Logan and how she suspiciously didn’t want Patton to adopt him. His hands shook, there was little chance he could drive himself home safely in this state so after waiting a short while until he was certain Emile would be on his lunch break he removed his phone from the pocket of his rain jacket and selected Emile’s name

“Hey Emile,” Patton spoke into the phone “Can you come pick me up?”.

Logan immediately went in search for Maggie once Patton departed figuratively bursting with excitement, wishing to relay every detail about Patton to her the pleasant weight of the headphones around his neck. Maggie’s office door was left a jar as per usual indicating he could enter however though he found himself knocking before pushing the door aside just in case she was engaged in a task and he was interrupting. As he entered he was met with her welcoming smile, setting aside her papers to invite him in.

“Hello Logan, I was wondering when you would drop in as you didn’t yesterday afternoon or this morning. Honestly, I was getting a little worried,” Maggie said as Logan settled himself on the armchair, fingertips tracing the curve of the headphones which still hung around his neck.

“I apologise, I was merely occupied during those times,” Logan said. Which was only partially true but he did not wish to disclose the reason he missed their typical afternoon meeting because he was in Madame Claire office until he could hardly walk back to his room.

“So I’ve heard, though I am disappointed I had to find out through Mrs Gossip Queen. I am so proud of you Logan,” Maggie praised, perplexing Logan unaware of what he had done to earn her praise but he did not question her. “I’m glad you haven’t given up hope just yet,”.

Logan simply nodded unable to find the correct words to respond. Patton was so unlike previous potential parents he had met in the past, searching for a well-behaved child with a tragic back-story so they could believe they were helping society but he listened, didn’t pity him, didn’t treat him like an orphan which in all honestly Logan struggled to comprehend. He was supposed to deter Patton from visiting him but yet Logan felt himself becoming more and more attached to the man who appeared like the sun in human form quite the opposite of Logan.

“Yes Patton is quite unusual, I find I do not understand his actions sometimes. He is kind even when I am undeserving of his kindness, persistently optimistic and possesses an aura of calmness that I can’t describe. I…I do not understand him,” Logan admitted releasing a sign. He loathed not understanding. He was smart he always had been surpassing those around him with ease onto more difficult work. Arithmetic. Chemistry. Physics. Human Anatomy. Facts and processes always constant, never changing unlike fickle emotions. Most were controlled by them allowing them to influence their every decision but feelings were illogical and the very bane of his existence. But they heavily impacted the human mind so he had to master it and maybe then he would finally understand his chest fluttered whenever he was in Patton’s presence or why it felt so natural simply talking to him.

“I believe I can help with that,” Maggie said decreasing the proximity between Logan and herself “ Now I assume that you struggle to understand why someone like him would choose someone like you. Am I correct?”.

“He is so kind-hearted, forgiving and selfless all of the things I am not, so yes I cannot comprehend why he would waste his time conversing with me when there are several other children more suitable,” He confessed releasing a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding, the pressure that had been steadily building upon his chest lessening slightly but it didn’t cease the trembling of his fingertips he attempted to conceal behind his back.

“Have you stopped to think that maybe he might like you?” Maggie suggested drawing Logan out of his spiralling thoughts. Why would Patton like Logan? He was too quiet, too standoffish, simultaneously too much and not enough. He wrinkled his nose and scoffed at the thought. “I’m serious Logan, why would he speak to you if he did not see something special in you? You just need to believe it,”. Logan opened his mouth to respond, to retort back but no words came out. Maggie manoeuvred herself to kneel in front of Logan. “Tell me about him,”. That Logan could do.

Logan rambled on and on about Patton sparing no details, dissecting every single one of their interactions. How they first met, Patton’s children, his lack of a romantic partner. Went into depth describing his appearance: his surprisingly youthful appearance, unkempt golden curls which often held several pieces of stationary, his rather eccentric clothing choices. Bright colours, flashy patterns but never without his signature grey cardigan tied around his shoulders. he could still describe the sensation of the feather soft fabric against his skin.

“He sounds like a stereotypical dad,” Maggie said with a laugh still positioned on the floor which Logan thought was rather unsanitary but didn’t question it. He cocked his head to the side puzzled by her statement. What was a ‘stereotypical dad’? He knew the definition of a stereotype: a widely held idea or image of a particular type of person or thing. Did Patton fit the stereotype? His own father surely didn’t, wearing predominantly suits and ties, without a hair out of place, severely lacking the warm and comforting demeanour Patton had. So what made a true dad? What made a real family?

“It sounds like you like him also. So, what does he make you feel when you talk to him?” She asked leaning an elbow on the arm of the armchair well aware of Logan boundaries and aversion to being touched but close enough to make him feel secure. Logan wrinkled his nose and furrowed his brow at the subject of…feelings.

“I…I do not know…I do not understand it,” Logan whispered his gaze fixated upon his hands as he burrowed them deeper into his shirt crinkling the material. The sensation which flowered within his chest whenever Patton was near was foreign to him, his words flowed freely no matter how much he tried to shut it off and that terrified him. Not knowing. Knowing things, that is what he excelled at. He held pride in the fact his intelligence was heightened beyond his years for all things logical that which emotions and messy feelings are not.

“That’s okay. Not knowing, not understanding your own feelings is okay,” She assured a soothing smile stretching across her rose tinted lips. “You are still young and have time to figure everything out but it does sound to me that this Patton is pretty special to you,”. Logan scoffed once again retreating into his cold and unfeeling shell.

“You deserve to be loved Logan,” That caught Logan off guard. Not trusting his ability to formulate words instead he merely nodded reaching his hand up to stroke the smooth plastic of the headphones still positioned around his neck.

Maggie stood stepping back allowing Logan to process what she had said returning to her position behind her desk as Logan mulled over her statement in his head…did he? He didn’t deserve anything, something his parents reminded him of daily. Love was not necessary for survival…so he did not require it.

“You should be getting back now Logan, lunch will be served soon,” Maggie stated as Logan stood preparing to leave “But I have something for you…I found this in Madame Claire’s office,”. Maggie reached into her desk withdrawing a familiar book from one of the drawers returning it to Logan’s possession, he traced the thankfully unscathed front cover with his fingertips before holding it close to his chest. He offered Maggie a small yet sincere smile in thanks.

“Your welcome and I will see you tomorrow Logan you can tell me more about Patton then,” Maggie said flashing a smile focusing her attention back to the pile of unmarked papers as Logan exited book still pressed close to his chest, his day significantly improved from Patton’s gift and promise to visit him again this morning too procuring his precious novel. Maybe today wouldn’t be as awful as he first anticipated, a minuscule smile appeared on his face at the pleasant thought.

Thankfully, Emile arrived a short while after their initial phone call not having another appointment scheduled until the late afternoon. Patton piled into the passenger side immediately hurling himself into Emile’s open arms burrowing his tear stained face into Emile’s chest, he released a choked sob as tears spilled down his cheeks and Emile stroked his curls whispering sweet nothings into his ear. They remained like that for some time until Patton ran out of tears and finally pulled away from Emile’s hold wiping at his red-rimmed eyes with the sleeve of his cardigan now damp with his salty tears.

“I-I’m…s-sorry,” Patton stuttered his voice hoarse from crying, winding his arms around his stomach, leaning into Emile’s hold on his left shoulder slightly. “For…c-calling you out here,”.

“It’s okay Patton and I will always come for you when you call just as you have done for me,” Emile said gently squeezing Patton shoulder with one hand and the other took his hand tenderly rubbing his thumb over this knuckles. “Now do you want to tell me what happened?”. Patton nodded. Inhaling once then exhaling before starting.

“Everything was going okay. I think. Logan was acting strange when I first arrived, more closed off than he was yesterday. He wasn’t even reading, he answered all of my questions with one word answers. He looked so…lost,” Patton exclaimed pausing again to breath but Emile’s attention never wavered fixated on Patton, his comforting touches never ceasing either. “I gave him the gift…he seemed so shocked as to why anyone would get him a gift. He gave it back almost instantly saying how he couldn’t accept it and he didn’t deserve it, I managed to calm him done and he did eventually accept it but the session ended before we could speak any more. They are so horrible to him Emile…the other children I couldn’t believe how they talked about him and he just stood there and took like it was normal for him. I…I asked about his past…I expected it to be difficult to hear but…Oh Emile. Do you remember a few years ago a child abuse trial named The Baxter Case?”.

“Yeah, yeah I do. They both got ten years, far too short in my opinion. Why?” Emile questioned his grip tightening as Patton breath hitched and a lump formed in his throat, fighting with himself to get the words out.

“The child from the case was Logan,” Patton exclaimed newly formed tears burning his eyes but they weren’t tears of sadness or regret, they were tears of anger he refused to let fall. Patton hated that there were people out there capable of such horrible, inhuman acts against children no less. Children who deserved love and affection and that was what Logan deserved and Patton was going to be the one to give it to him. “I need to get him out of there. I spoke to the owner, she is horrible Emile she didn’t have a nice thing to say about him and even tried to persuade me against adopting him. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I had to get out of there before I snapped so I made another appointment and left. Oh Emile, how could anyone do something like that?”. Emile didn’t know quite what he was referring to the actions of Logan’s parents against him or of the owner who certainly deserved a piece of his mind but the more pressing matter at hand was Patton.

“I don’t know Patty,” Emile said pulling Patton close to his chest once again as his sobs faded to sniffles and to exhausted from his outburst to plaster a fake smile across his face wishing for nothing more than the security of his own home and bed.

“I have to get him out,” Patton murmured into Emile’s shirt stained with his tears. He couldn’t allow Logan to stay there but he knew better than most how long and complicated the adoption process was, not only the mountains of paperwork and background of checks but building a relationship could take just as or even longer.

“I know and you will, just give it time,” Emile assured cupping Patton’s cheeks wiping away stray tears with his thumb, he appreciated the small comforting touches Emile provided. Patton had always felt a lot more deeply than most, he loved quickly and often suffered the consequences but once he made his made a goal he worked until he achieved it and adopting Logan was his new goal.

And no matter what challenges he faced he would achieve it.

Once Logan had departed from Miss Maggie’s office the remainder of his day had been relatively quiet, no rambunctious children to annoy him, no meddling matrons to disturb him and especially no Madame Claire to torment him. With the return of his precious novel, he found himself much more at ease than he was this morning but life tore those few hours of contentment as quickly as they granted them, forcing him back to the harsh reality of his existence which everyone seemed to despise no matter what he did. In the beginning it hurt. So much he couldn’t understand why everyone hated him, the matrons, the other children, even his own parents. He had never once felt loved. After a while, he grew used to their glares of disdain, cruel whispers in passing. He didn’t need love…but then Patton arrived, though he didn’t and still didn’t understand the man’s intentions or motive when he approached Logan and spoke to him for the first time without a hint of pity. He felt something he had never felt before, despite not knowing exactly what it was, it was like nothing he had ever experienced before. A single glimmer of hope for him, but the flickering flame was snuffed out of existence, letting the blackness fester and grow.

All good things had to come to an end, they often did in Logan’s case. Patton’s gift had been a constant for the remainder of the day, hanging around his neck, he reached up to stroke the cool plastic every so often as a reminder. He had kept to his room, headphones on blocking out the world, book in hand losing himself in its pages. Logan hadn’t known how long it had been until the unwanted arrival of his room-mates indicating it was nearing lights out. He shared a dormitory with seven other boys, aged between eight and fourteen himself being one of the eldest and the most despised but he had long ago accepted that fact and avoided them in every possible situation. That seemed to quell them for a short while but most seemed to be determined to make his life a living hell.

They barrelled into dormitory, stripping off their clothes, discarding them onto the floor leaving the room in a state of disarray. Logan clenched his jaw, his grip on his book tightening at the sight but he fought to ignore it, not wishing to start an argument instead adjusting his headphones curling in on himself praying they hadn’t noticed his presence yet. But alas his prayers went unanswered and seven pairs of eyes all turned on him at once, their expressions dark and unforgiving, lips curling upwards into a wicked grin.

“Hey Lobot,” Logan didn’t need to look up from his book to see who the delightful nickname came from. He despised it. Being compared to a cold and unfeeling automaton was not an uncommon experience but it did not make it hurt any less. Until he took on persona, playing the role of the emotionless robot they all believed him to be, praying it they would grow tired of the merciless teasing and taunts but to no avail they persisted perhaps even worse than before.

Logan forced his eyes from the page onto the figure in front of him. Brandon Hunter. Aged fourteen, had lived at Madame Claire’s for three years, the reason being that his parents were both drug addicts, his explosive temper had gotten him rejected by four families in total and he was Logan’s most persistent bully. Ever since he arrived Brandon targeted him, beginning as daily taunts and teases mocking him for everything under the sun from his appearance, to his personality, to his interests. Later developing into physical altercations, tripping him in the corridors, cornering him after mealtimes to in his words ‘teach him a lesson’ leaving him beaten and bruised for days after. Night time was the worst. When no matrons patrolled the corridors in search for troublemakers, when he was surrounded by people who would love to see him hurt. Logan had been spared these past few night facing other…issues but tonight he suspected he wouldn’t be so fortuitous.

“Hey nerd! Don’t ignore me!” Brandon bellowed tearing the book from Logan’s hands tossing it carelessly across the room. Logan winced when it made contact with the wall, thinking only of the crumpled papers he would surely have to smooth out though would never be as pristine again. He adjusted his headphones moving them from over his ears so they were hanging around his neck, glancing up at Brandon’s unsightly face with a vacant expression. “So, now that someone has finally shown interest in you, you think your better than me. Freak!”.

Logan again didn’t responded allowing his gaze to wander. All seven boys were now encircling his bed, Brandon at the head and the rest stood behind him like henchman awaiting orders from their boss having been brainwashed pretty early on, not that it took much convincing for them to join Brandon’s side much preferring to be on his side than the alternative. They left him no possible escape path and even if he were to somehow make it out of the dormitory he wouldn’t get very far as Brandon and his cronies would be on him like a pack of feral dogs in a single heartbeat. Brandon was clearly growing increasingly frustrated with Logan’s unresponsiveness, he nearly cracked a smile at the sight of his red face but such an action would undoubtedly result in a burst lip so he restrained himself from doing so.

“Hey, I’m talking to you! And you’re going to listen to me,” Brandon growled grabbing a fistful of Logan’s hair yanking it towards him, forcing Logan to look at him. He winced at the sharp pain but refused to let it show on his face but his fingers wound tightly into his shirt praying nobody noticed their tremble. “Now that’s better, it looks like someone needs a reminder of their place,”.

A wicked smile stretched across Brandon’s lips as he released Logan with a sharp shove causing him to lose his balance toppling backwards onto his bed, provoking a chorus of sadistic laughter from the others. Logan quickly regained his composure, brushing down his outfit, glaring at the group some of whom stepped back, averting their eyes from his intense glare but Brandon simply laughed seemingly unaffected unlike the other who cowered behind him.

“Well, well what do we have here?” Brandon asked reaching out to touch the headphones still positioned around Logan neck, his calloused hands narrowly missing his throat. Logan jerked back from the contact wishing to get as far away Brandon as humanly possible but had reacted to late, the headphones already having been plucked from his neck and his precious gift was now in the hands of Brandon Hunter.

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switchysmythe · 5 years

Text

First Date |Killiot

WHO: Elliot Smythe and Kirin Rhodes ( @kirinrhodes )

WHEN: 3rd August 3019.

WHERE: Town/Kirin’s dorm.

WHAT: First date.

NOTES: I never posted this cause I’m trash but it’s just first date feels between these losers.

Elliot was definitely nervous for tonight because this was an actual real first date and he doesn’t think he’s ever had one of those. He goes for casual clothing, though, because it’s drinks and drinks are easy. He can drink. He’s not running late, not really, he just had been freaking out a little and got himself all worked up because he was going on a date and his nerves were getting the better of him. He needed a damn shot. He did make his way to the parking lot when he was finally ready, dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt with a black bomber jacket. He spots Kirin there and he smiles, feeling his nerves lessen ever so slightly.

Kirin too had never been on a proper date, but he’d been on so many awkward social engagements he figured that this couldn’t be any worse. Besides, any time spent with Elliot was always less awkward than his normal life. Sitting behind the wheel of his green Maserati he spotted El and revved the engine, and smirked. He waited for El to get in and leaned over to kiss him. “Hello Gorgeous,” he chirped, throwing it into gear and peeling out of the school.

Elliot easily kisses the Dom back, smiling into it. “Hey,” he replies, laughing softly. “Nice car,” he teases. Of course Kirin had a stupidly flashy car, the switch wasn’t even surprised by that at all. He literally screamed rich stereotype, expect for how awkward he sometimes was but that was just adorable and endearing and he liked that side of Kirin. Even if Elliot was awkward himself so it made for extra awkwardness. “I am so ready for a drink,” he tells him.

Kirin chuckled, “could do with one myself,” he agreed, “but first, dinner.” He drove into town and parked near the park. “I’ve ordered food for us, it should be here,” he explained with a sly smile as he got out. In the park a small tent was set up with a kitchen set up and handful of people dressed in white bustling around. A picnic table was laid out with a table cloth and proper table setting. “Shall we, gorgeous,” he asked, offering his hand as they walked up to the table. A waiter met them and seated them, pouring champagne.

“Oh, yeah, can’t drink on an empty stomach,” the switch says with a laugh despite the fact he does that almost every single time he drinks. Elliot notices the tent and the strangers before he gets out of the car, he turns to look at Kirin once he gets out of the car. “Oh, my god, Kirin,” he says with a grin as he takes the Dom’s hand and walks towards the table. “This is... so cute,” he says biting down on his bottom lip as the champagne is poured for them.

Kirin smirks. He loves making Elliot squirm. “The staff is all French, so you’ll have to do the talking,” he explained and then added with a say smile,”and probably very tired, they just flew in this morning”

Elliot lets out a laugh, eyes wide. “You’re unreal, do you know what?” he asks, unable to stop smiling. “You flew in French waiters for our first date?” he asks. He can’t even comprehend it, honestly. He had no idea how their date was going to go but he really hadn’t expected this at all.

“I have been told that before yes, although, usually with less of a smile and more of a eye roll,” he said pleased with himself. “No, that would be silly,” he said, “I flew in a French cook and he brought the waiters.” A waiter came over and offered them bread and cheese and said something Kirin didn’t understand.

“I definitely mean it as a compliment,” the switch assures him. He doesn’t think he deserves this, in all honesty, but he loves that Kirin has done it for him anyway. This is definitely a good first date and it’s barely even started. “Oh, my bad, of course that would be silly,” he says with a laugh. Elliot turns to the waiter and smiles, “je vous remercie,” he says to the waiter once he’s placed the bread and cheese down.

Normally, people speaking in another language around him made him feel uncomfortable mostly because he didn’t like that feeling of not being in control, but it pleased Elliot and he was fairly sure that he was paying the staff enough that they wouldn’t be talking shit behind his back. “You should most definitely speak French more often, Gorgeous. It’s pretty on your lips.” He buttered some bread and unfolded a napkin on his lap. “Does it feel like home yet?” “Yeah?” Elliot replies with a grin. He didn’t speak French very often mostly because nobody here could speak France so it was kind of hard to speak a language where no-one expect your brothers would understand. He liked that Kirin liked it on him, though. “Maybe I will, and I’ll just translate it for you so you know what the hell I’m talking about,” the switch says. “I just said thank you, then by the way,” he explains. He thinks about the question for a moment before he nods his head. “It does, yeah,” he confirms with a sort of longing sigh. He missed Paris too much.

Kirin chuckled, “that would be much appreciated.” He was far from home as well, not nearly as far, but definitely out of his element but he didn’t miss home. It was obvious from the sigh that Elliot did. “Tell me more about it. About Paris. Your favorite places”

“Then expect more French from me,” he tells him, knowing it probably wouldn’t happen all of the time but he could definitely slip it in every now and again. “I just love all of it, I’m super biased but it’s just such a good place to be.” He would recommend it to anyone. “There was a cafe me and my best friend always used to go to, The Hood Paris, it’s amazing. It sometimes has live music and the staff are the nicest, honestly. I don’t know how they could be so nice, it would drain me,” he laughs.

“I look forward to it. The only language my father encouraged me to learn was Mandarin. The plan backfired when the tutor was hot and had sticky fingers.” He listened as El spoke of home but more he watched the Switch’s face. “Sounds nice. I bet you and your friend raised a lot of drinks and havoc. I can agree with that. I’m not cut out for customer service. All the niceties and small talk. No thank you.” The waiter returned with appetisers that looked incredible especially for something made in a tent.

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like it worked out well. Why did he want you to learn Mandarin?” he questions. He doesn’t know how he feels to have Kirin’s undivided attention, having someone just watch him as he speaks. He thinks he likes it, he’s just not used to. Especially in a date setting. Elliot laughs and hums in agreement. “We really did. I miss her,” he says with a soft smile. “Honestly, small talk is not for me. It makes me super awkward so it was food I went that often it stopped being small talk and they just talked normally to us. Made it a whole lot better.” He thanks the waiter again when the food comes and it honestly looks amazing. And kind of familiar.

“Because we do a lot of business with China,” he shrugged. “Everything is about the business. But let’s not talk about that.” Kirin sampled the food. It was nothing like food in Texas, but delicious in its own way. “What’s her name? Was she a school mate?” He tried to think of thoughtful questions as he’d read up on proper date etiquette and it had been big on asking questions. “It sounds nice. You’ll have to take me there one day. Do you plan to move back after school?”

That made sense but he knew business was a sore spot for Kirin so he was happy to respect his request of not talking about it. “No more business talk, got it,” he says as he mimes zipping his lips and then grins at Kirin. “Yeah, we met in high school. Her name’s Simone,” he tells him. “I’ll take you there, definitely,” he says before he nods his head. “I want to, but I guess it depends on my future here, doesn’t it?” He couldn’t force someone to move to Paris with him but that is literally all he wants, to go back home.

“Well don’t zip them. I quite like your lips,” he said. “Simone- Pretty name,” he shrugged as the conversation veered close to small talk. “Well, I could make that very easy for you, you know,” he said. His feelings varied day to day, but his father hadn’t bothered him this week and he was back to sure he could claim Elliot and have happiness. Rather than the ‘I can never have any happiness’ route he usually was on after speaking with his father. “After dinner I thought we could go get proper drunk. I hope that’s not breaking too many date rules.”

Elliot smiles at the compliment. “Thank you, I’m glad you like them,” he replies. “You could?” he asks, eyebrows raising as he speaks. Things were Kirin were never the same, sometimes he was a glass half empty kind of person about his future, and sometimes it seemed like he might realise he doesn’t have to be his father but it never stuck. Elliot laughs. “Who cares about dating rules? We should just date how we wanna date and I am so down for getting proper drunk.”

“So far your lips haven’t done anything I don’t enjoy.” Kirin sipped some champagne frowning when the bubbles tickled his nose and setting it far away from him, wrinkling his nose. “Yes. If you were mine. I’m sure I could make a case for moving the head quarters to Paris. Or at the very least having a vacation home there.” Kirin spoke very matter of fact about this as if it were more a business transaction that he had faith in, than their future. “I suppose I thought everyone did? This isn’t actually my expertise, I specialize more in disposable food related dry goods, than dates. Oh that sounds like perhaps I’ll get a second date. Have I sealed that deal so soon in the first date?”

“Likewise, your lips are also pretty awesome.” He watches Kirin sips the champagne, a small smirk on his lips as he watches the scene unfold. He doesn’t understand Kirin most of the time, especially with his matter of fact he was being right now. The fact Kirin is saying he would change his plan, even slightly, for Elliot makes him feel some sort of way. “You should get a vacation home there anyway,” the switch replies. He’s not sure he wants to hold onto Kirin doing that for him even if it would be really nice. “No idea, honestly, I don’t date,” he says with a shrug. “So it’s also not my expertise either.” He sticks his tongue out between his teeth when Kirin asks about the second date. “I should have kept you hanging a bit longer,”’he teases. “I don’t see why I wouldn’t want a second date with you.”

“Perhaps I’ll have to show you what else they can do later.” He hopes that didn’t come off creepy as he fought off the bubbles. “Perhaps I will. You speak so highly of it. I’ve always thought it was quite a dirty city.” It did make him feel more at ease that Elliot had no standard to judge him by. “Ah but you have been seduced by my Wiley ways,” he laughed, “ah the meal.” The waiter arrived with quite the spread smelling of pure deliciousness. “I had worried this would be...too extravagant.”

Elliot presses his lips together, eyebrow quirking. “Is that so? I think I’d enjoy that,” he tells him. He laughs. “Like I said, I’m biased but you still should do it.” Elliot is kind of stuck on Kirin, it’s frustrating honestly because he hasn’t even known him that long and he also doesn’t think he’ll have a future with him. Not that he thought about the future much but Kirin did. Elliot thanks the waiter again as the food comes and it looks amazing. “It’s not too extravagant, I mean I totally wasn’t expecting anything like this but I love it. A lot so thank you.”

“I’ll look for real estate tonight,” he agrees. They’d been looking to open a branch abroad and expand, why not Paris, he thought. But he was just a kid with no real power, yet. It was still fun to pretend he did though. “I’m glad,” he nodded, “you deserve to be spoiled.” They ate with less conversation and more humming at the deliciousness until the waiter returned with dessert. Kirins eyes big and stomach full he whimpered, “oh I couldn’t possibly.”

Elliot doesn’t know why he��s surprised, Kirin has said before he’s not the type to joke but still, he’s surprised. “Wait, really?” he asks. “Like, that easily?” Elliot can’t even decide what he wants to eat on a day to day basis never mind just decide to get a house somewhere. He rolls his eyes fondly, he definitely didn’t deserve to be spoiled. He thanks Kirin anyway. He laughs at Kirin’s reaction to dessert. “Dessert goes to the heart, not to the stomach,” he jokes.

Well it doesn’t hurt to look, now does it?” The food was amazing and well worth the thousands it had taken to get the chef over on short notice just for them. “Oh that’s quite the saying,” he said, liking it quite a bit. “Alright then, I suppose it is rather small and we’ve come this far.” He would just have to hit the gym hard tomorrow. Once they were finished he sat back in his chair. “I think perhaps we should walk to the bar, maybe walk some of this meal off. I’m not sure how you French do this every day.”

“You make a good point,” Elliot agreed easily. He smiles when Kirin says he likes the saying, he heard it on a vine himself and he literally quoted at the damn time cause it was relatable. After the meal was over, and Elliot has thanked the waiters again. He turns to Kirin as he speaks and chuckles quietly. “Walking to the bar is a good idea,” he agrees. “I personally don’t do it everyday but we totally just build up a tolerance to it,” he teases.

Kirin hummed happily as Elliot spoke French to the waiter. He moved closer, casually letting his hand run over Elliot’s ass before paying the chef and thanking him. They started to walk and Kirin kept Elliot close, hand in hand. “I think that much butter would have me dead by 30,” he chuckled, “I’m surprised you’re not 300 pounds,” he teased, tickling Elliot’s side. “I’ve yet to be out in Lima. I’m sure the night life is...rather disappointing. Where do you recommend we go?”

Elliot smirks and doesn’t miss the way him speaking French affects the Dom. He does lean into his touch all too easily. “It’s a good job you don’t eat that much butter all the time, then, isn’t it? We wouldn’t want you dead so young,” he responds. He laughs when Kirin tickles his side, squirming away from him but he’s soon putting himself back at Kirin’s side. “It’s not the best,” he admits. “There’s a bar we can go to, though.” They know Elliot’s order by now, it’s kind of embarrassing.

“If I died who would take you on dates?” He realized that sounded weird so added, “kidding, they’d swarm if I wasn’t here scaring them all away.” He laughs rather cutely as Elliot squirms then clears his throat, not sure where that girlish giggle came from. “Lead that way, Gorgeous.”

Elliot laughs and rolls his eyes. “Are you scaring everyone away?” he asks with a smirk. He was pretty sure that people didn’t even know about him and Kirin, not that he was keeping it a secret. He grins at Kirin’s laugh. “Yes, Sir!” he says as they make their way towards the bar.

"Well not everyone, I allow your family contact," he joked, "But the ones who just want you for your body, I swat like flies." Of course he was doing nothing of the sort and for the most part had kept to himself since arriving, a bit too nervous to jump into the school with both feet. On the plus side, his new hobby of painting had emerged and was slowly taking over his suite. "Ooh don't tease me like that," he said, loving when El called him Sir for some reason. He held the door for the other as they walked into what seemed like a dive bar to Kirin, but by normal person standards was probably just fine. The bartender seemed to know Elliot and Kirin found it quite amusing. "Is this your other boyfriend then?"

Elliot rolls his eyes at Kirin’s response, shoving at his shoulder. “Idiot,” he mutters but he’s smiling. He doesn’t think there’s anyone wanting Elliot for more than just his body anyway. That’s how it’s always been or how Elliot’s made it to be, maybe. “You like it when I call you Sir?” he asks with a smirk. When they arrive at the bar, Elliot is greeted in his usual fashion and he sticks his tongue out at the Dom’s question. “Yeah, got boyfriends all over me.”

"I like when you call me Sir quite a bit, yes, "he said a little blush tinting his cheeks. "Is that alright?" Kirin smirks that he managed to slip one by Elliot and that he didn't notice he said "other " boyfriend, implying he was one as well. "I should have brought a leash," he teased, pulling Elliot closer to him by his belt loop. He ordered a gin and tonic and warns him " Keep that tongue in your mouth unless you plan on using it on me"

Elliot laughs softly and he doesn’t miss the slight blush on Kirin’s cheeks which is kind of really adorable. “Yeah, that’s fine,” he says. He may not be completely onboard with the whole system but he doesn’t mind using titles. He smirks when Kirin pulls him closer by his belt loop, his stomach swooping at the action. “You want me to use it on you, Sir?” he asks, unable to stop himself smirking cockily at the Dom.

Kirin rolled his eyes hard. “Oh please. The leash is for you. Keep you close,” he said shaking his head. He took his drink from the bartender and gave him a card to keep a tab open. “So what do you do here...”

Elliot looks around the pub for a moment before he looks back to Kirin. “I usually just come with Kurt and we just drink and talk and get really drunk,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. He moves closer to Kirin after he’s ordered his own drink and has it in hand. “Nothing special but,” he trails off. “It’s alright.”

“Talk.. mmm,” he hums, wondering if Kurt was better at conversation than he was. His eyes scan the room. “Perhaps you should show me your billiards skills, Gorgeous,” he said eyeing the tool table.

“Yes, talk,” Elliot confirms. He follows Kirin’s gaze before he looks back at the Dom and shrugs his shoulders. “Okay but I’m not the best,” he warns.

Kirin narrowed his eyes. "For a man who spends enough time in this bar that the barkeep didn't even need to ask you what you wanted, you certainly seem like you haven't taken full advantage of this amenities." He wandered over to the pool table and started to chalk a cue. He'd played a decent amount, mostly as a child on the pool table at his father's office. His father would bring him in, but then mostly just leave him to entertain himself. The pool table had been a good source of fun for most his childhood . "Come on, Gorgeous. I'll help you," he said, slipping up behind Elliot and handing him the cue, then leaning into his back side as he reached around to put help El hold the cue properly. He had no doubt Elliot at least knew how to hold the cue, it was all just an excuse to be this close to him.

Elliot rolls his eyes. “I come to the bar to drink, why do you think they know my order?” he asks with a laugh. He only ever played pool as a kid and then if he ever won or came close to winning it was always a fluke. He follows the Dom to the pool table. He’s placed his drink down before Kirin comes up behind him. He huffs out a laugh. “I’m not completely hopeless, I can hold a cue,” he tells him with a laugh as he takes the cue from Kirin. “Not that I mind you being this close to me,” he adds art a smirk on his lips.

Kirin uses the position to his advantage and leans into Elliot, breathing hot on his neck. "No? I was really hoping to make you very very hopeless...helpless...mine," he whispered, kissing up his neck as his hand wandered south to grab the Frenchman's ass. "You sure you don't need my help..."

Elliot relaxes into Kirin, feeling those stupid butterflies in his stomach once again. He lets out a shaky, content sigh. “Will you only have me if I’m hopeless?” he teases as he feels a shiver run down his spine from the Dom kissing his neck. He presses his ass back into Kirin’s touch. “Uh, actually, I think I definitely need your help.”

"No, Gorgeous, but it would make things a lot easier," he teases with a chuckle straightening up only slightly, body still pressed into El's back. "Oh yeah? Well then...let's clear this table and start our own game, yeah?" He reached around holding the cue around Elliot's body and taking a shot. The sharp pang echoed as the cue sent the balls flying towards the pockets, sinking one of the three balls left on the fuzzy table top. He shifted, moving Elliot with him, and shot another in the corner pocket. The cue ball curved right back to his stick ready for the last shot. "Mmm this one will be difficult," he explained, as if shooting around an entire person wasn't challenge enough. "You'd better turn around," he said, gently turning Elliot in place so they were face too face> "And scrunch down a little...might be best a little lower,..."

lliot just lets Kirin control his moves, where he should be, and honestly he’s not paying that much attention because Kirin is so close to him and that’s all he can focus on right now. He laughs when Kirin turns him around so they’re face to face. “Idiot,” he says with a fond smile on his lips as his hands come to rest of the Dom’s hips. “You want me to get on my knees for you?” he asks, raising his eyebrows with the question.

Kirin simply give a smirk as he lines up his shot awkwardly around Elliot. "Well if you think that would be best, then perhaps yes, "he said, smirking the whole time. "Just while I shoot. You understand, don't you Gorgeous?"

“I’m not sure that I do,” Elliot teases, feigning innocence as his hands move from Kirin’s hips to the front of his jeans. “Just while you shoot?” he asks, repeating the Dom’s words as he presses the palm of his hand against his crotch.

Kirin shuttered as El’s hand touched him. They’d yet to get into bed together but if the night went on like this, Kirin doubted he’d be able to resist. “Tonight..tomorrow... the rest of your life...” he said with some strain in his voice

Elliot couldn’t help but feel smug when he heard the strain in Kirin’s voice, knowing it was because of him. “Yeah?” he asks. “Think you could deal with me for the rest of my life?” He asks as he undoes Kirin’s jean button and zips his jeans down so he could feel more of him.

“I co-“ he started, but Elliot’s hand made him freeze and try to catch his breath. His eyes darted around the bar. There were people but not so many they could be lost in a crowd and not so few no one would notice shenanigans happening. He swallowed and took a few quick breaths as El grabbed him. “Not if you kill me first,” he breathed, wrapping a hand around to grab El’s ass. “Naughty naughty. Don’t make me punish you in your bar,” he said, trying to gain any control.

When Kirin falters, Elliot smirks. He knew they were in public and it wasn’t like Elliot hadn’t done things in public before but he came here all the time so he was being brave, or an idiot. “Oh, I don’t want to kill you, that wouldn’t be fun,” he laughs. He raises an eyebrow. “I can stop,” he says as he pulls his hand away slightly. “Not sure I want to be punished,” he adds with a laugh.

Kirin’s eyes were scanning the room again, but this time for doors not people. “You’re going to If this keeps up,” he said under his breath, then grabbed hold of Elliot’s hand pulling it away and pinning it on the edge of the pool table. He knew he was going to regret this, but he didn’t have a choice, “...bathroom. Now,” he ordered, pulling Elliot towards the back of the room

“Hm, does that mean I can’t touch you?” he teases. He hadn’t really expected this to be how their date went but he’s not mad about it, honestly. He should be bothered that Kirin is pulling him into a bathroom he’s been on his knees in way too many times, drunk and with strangers. But he doesn’t care because he wants Kirin. “Fuck,” he practically groans. “Okay,” he says as if he would have ever even considered saying no as he’s pulled away from the pool table.

Kirin practically dragged Elliot into the small room shoving the door shut and then pushing Elliot back up against it. He leaned into El, a hand braces on either side of his body against the door. “You. You are a tease,” he growled, the Dommy side of him creeping out more and more, but he couldn’t help it. “

Elliot looks at Kirin with wide eyes, anticipation hanging heavy in the air. He swallows thickly and despite being desperate to touch Kirin and feeling a little dizzy, he manages a small smirk when Kirin calls him a tease. “But you like it, right?” he asks

He’s not used to having to hold back. Before school he was almost always fucking and scenening with someone he’d hired. No need to hold back anything much then. But Elliot was important. He had to temper himself because god only knows how El would react to his unleashed dominance, seeing El didn’t even believe in the system. In answer, Kirin grabbed Elliot’s hand and pushed in on to his hard cock again. “You could say that.” He lunges in, kissing the boy hard, running his hands all over his body, and trying to strip his shirt off.

Elliot keeps his hand on Kirin’s cock as the Dom kisses him. He groans into his mouth, palming at his length as the kiss heats up. He pulls back ever so slightly, having to move his hand, so his shirt could come off but then his hips are back on Kirin’s and his hand his back on his length. He pushes his hand into his underwear so he can actually touch him. His fingers wrap around his length and he strokes him.

What was he thinking? Hooking up in a dirty bar bathroom? How very pedestrian. But Elliot already was shirtless and that hand on his cock was threatening to drive him mad. His lips crashed back into Elliot’s and he shoved his own hand down the back of Elliot’s jeans, teasing his fingers over the Switches hole. “You deserve better than a quickie in a toilet stall,” he grumbled.

Elliot moans into the kiss as Kirin teases at his hole. He lets out a breathless laugh at the Dom’s words because he wasn’t stopping. “I don’t care,” he tells him without hesitation. He didn’t think he deserved better but he wasn’t about to say that and ruin the moment.

That moan just about drove Kirin insane, and almost convinced him to drop the argument. But he knew he was right. Elliot deserved far better than this. He kept kissing the boy but pulled his hand back, whining. “I will not...” he paused to kiss him again, “...tell our children.... our first time was in a bar bathroom.” He finally, breathlessly, pulled back from El’s lips. “Let’s get drunk and go back and at least allow me to bed you in a proper bed.

Elliot almost pouts when Kirin stops this. He can’t be mad, not that he would be anyway, especially when Kirin is being so nice about it. Though, children? Elliot was not about to touch that. “Fine, okay,” he says but he isn’t really annoyed, he’s smiling. He kisses Kirin again, slow, and then pulls back. “I plan on getting stupid drunk cause I need to focus on something that is on mine boner, or yours,” he says with a laugh as he grabs his shirt and puts it back on.

Kirin is sure he's lost his mind. He'd been dreaming of fucking Elliot for weeks now, nervously dreaming,but still. And here he was turning him away. It was the right thing to do though and this bathroom was grossing him out. "My tab is open, but I don't wish to carry you home, yeah?" He kissed Elliot's lips again, not eager to give him up. "Maybe I can help with that," he said, just as knock came at the door and they had to vacate awkwardly. Kirin lead them back towards the pool table and their drinks on small high top table. He took a big gulp of his gin and tonic to try and ease his nerves and lust. "You will be the end of me, I just know it," he sighed.

‘Hmm, okay,” Elliot replies with a smirk. “I’ll not get too drunk that you’ll have to carry me home, promise.” He kisses the Dom back, and wishes it could continue but he can wait. He’s never been the most patient guy but he’s sure Kirin will be worth the wait. He coughs awkwardly as they leave the bathroom. He smirks as Kirin takes a large drink of his gin before he takes a sip of his own. “Sounds fun,” he jokes, grinning at him.

Kirin eyed the Switch and the smiled. "I suppose, if you're the death of me, I can lay back in my grave with a smile on." He pulled Elliot in by his shirt, kissed him and then pushed him gently towards the pool table. "Come on, show me what you've got, Barfly," he teased. They played a few games of pool, drank, laughed, kissed..a lot, but finally the darkening sky told them it was time to head back. "Balls. It's nearly curfew. We need to hussel," he said, downing the last of his drink.

“Well that’s adorable,” the switch replies with a shy smile before he’s being pulled in. He hums happily and kisses the Dom back. He rolls his eye at the nickname. “Yes, Sir,” he teases. He’s pretty impressed with how long he’s able to last without just dropping to his knees for Kirin, he manages to even forget about it for a little while as he gets more and more drunk, but not too drunk that he won’t be able to get it up when they get back. He turns to look at Kirin and actually pouts because he kinda of really doesn’t want the date to be okay. “I suppose we should go,” he says as he slides up to Kirin.

Kirin put his arm around El's waist, pays his tab, leaves a decent tip and they walk back to campus with a decent amount of laughter and tripping. Maybe even falling off the sidewalk once or twice. "You're drunk," he teases, though he is clearly just as drunk. "Shhh going back to campus, we have to be good or they'll spank us, "he says, laughing loudly then shushing himself as they get up to the gates and show their ids to get in.

“You’re drunk,” Elliot quips back as they make their way back to campus. He definitely feels drunk and he’s back to just wanting Kirin. “You want them to spank you?” he teases, he’s loud though, always gets louder when he’s drunk. He shows the guards his ID and then walks, stumbles mostly, to the Dom’s dorm.

Kirin's face got red and his eyes huge and he grabbed El pulling him close and covering his mouth. "No. Shush your mouth now," he said sternly, then laughed at himself. They're laughing when they tumble into the door and Kirin accidentally slams it closed behind them, sending them both laughing again. He pulled El in tight, kissing him hard and fast, hands going to strip the other's clothes off him fast. "You need to be in my bed, right now, naked."

Elliot feels dizzy, and not from the booze. He’s so desperate and needy for Kirin in this moment and god does he want to be in his bed. “Yes, please,” he breathes against his lips before he kisses him again, needy and rough and he doesn’t care.

Kirin's tempted to shove the boy to the floor and demand his mouth, but he forced some control on himself. He groaned into El's neck as he kissed over his chest. He paused to strip his own shirt off revealing his ripped chest and abs. He walked El backwards towards his bed and then shoved the switch backwards on to it, letting El bounce on the bed as he slipped his jeans off and then with a devious smile, climbed over El, holding himself up with one arm, using his free hand to cup El's face. "You're so sexy...such a tease though....driving me crazy all night.

Elliot’s eyes fell to the Dom’s chest and abs, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide a she took in how good Kirin looked. “Fuck,” he hisses out as the other climbs over him, he’s still looking up at him with wide eyes. “I wanted to see if you’d cave and just fuck me there,” he teases. He leans up to kiss him as his hands trail down the Dom’s chest. “Fuck me,” he says into the kiss as one of his hands palms at the other’s cock.

“I told you...you deserved better than that. You deserve better than this too, but it’s what I’ve got at the moment,” he said, wondering why Elliot couldn’t see that a bathroom was no place to fuck anything but a whore. Kirins eyes roll back and his cock goes rigid as Elliot touches him and begs so softly. “Are you sure,” he asked coyly, pressing his hand down between them, teasing El’s cock. “Are you positive that’s what you want?”

Elliot didn’t care, as long as he had Kirin, he didn’t care where it was . “This is perfect, Kirin, because the date was perfect and you’re here,” he replies. They could be anywhere and Elliot wouldn’t care as long as he had him. He lets out a groan at the touch and nods his head. “I’m sure, I want this. I want you,” he assures him. He doesn’t think he’s been more sure of anything in this moment.

Kirin softly shook his head. "You deserve better than a bathroom fuck," he said simply, "So do I. " He leans in kissing El again, their bodies writhing against each other. Kirin groaned at the request. God he wanted to fuck this man. "Ah ah ask nicely, "he teased, losing all domminess as Elliot palmed his cock and made him whimper. He returned the favor, moving to tease El's hole. "I think I want that mouth first."

Kirin wasn't wrong about that. "You do deserve better," he agrees without hesitation. He rolls his eyes when Kirin tells him to ask nicely as if telling the Dom he wanted him, and this, wasn't nice enough. He moans as Kirin teases his hole. "Kirin," he practically whines because god he just wanted him. "Okay, fuck, you can have my mouth," he agrees.

"As do you," he corrected, not willing to let Elliot weasel out of that. With their bodies so close, Kirin feels like the world has gone and time has stood still for them. The way Elliot whines his name makes his heart flip in his chest. "Elliot," he whispers back, teasing his finger into his hole gently. "Good boy..." he whispers gently, lovingly, "But ...I realize now...I don't wish you to move from my arms. I quite like your body so close to mine." He continued to kiss El's neck and back, holding him tight to him. "I believe I could be quite happy if you never moved again." Elliot, once again, does not comment. He also doesn’t let on about the fact he doesn’t like to be called good boy because this moment is too good to bring up that. “How are you being so cute with your fingers when they are?” the switch asks. He lets out a quiet laugh as his twists his fingers in the Dom’s hair. “I think I would be quite happy if I never moved again as well,” he says and he’s smiling fondly at the Dom on top of him because he’s ridiculous and Elliot can’t seem to get enough of him.

“It’s one of my many talents,” he whispered, making his point by gently kissing El’s skin and making him moan by finding that sweet spot with his fingers. “Well...perhaps a little moving wouldn’t be awful,” he said, taking his fingers back and quickly grabbing lube from the side table and slicking his cock. Gently he lined up with El’s hole, kissing his neck. “You ready Gorgeous,” he asked, hips barely containing their excitement.

Kirin was definitely going to be the death of Elliot. He shifts to watch the Dom as he applies the lube and then he’s there and this s about to happen. He looks at Kirin and nods his head, he’s more than ready. “Yeah, yeah, I’m ready,” he confirms eagerly, eyed wide and his body tingling with anticipation and excitement.

Kirin smiles softly. The booze still tingling in his system is making this moment feel good ls a little extra. Like a movie. Something he needed to get perfect. Slowly, he eased in steadily, until his thighs met Elliot’s ass.

Elliot tenses around the Dom’s length before he lets himself relax, groaning at the feel of Kirin inside of him. “Fuck, Kirin,” he moans as he grips hold of his forearms, looking up at him with lust blown eyes. This was really happening and Elliot was delirious with how food it felt to feel so full by him.

Kirin gasped as he bottomed out inside Elliot. He'd never done this this slow before, never stopped to savor the sensations. "FUck" he echoed, kissing Elliot's warm skin and wrapping his strong arms around the other. "You feel even more amazing that I dreamt you would," he whispered, starting to very slowly ease out and then back in.

#face to face: kirin #kirin: 003

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neonlights92 · 6 years

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Love & Hate

Request: Can you write one about yoongi, or jungkook like you hate each other in the beginning but then he falls in love with you & you him? Or something like that! I love your work 😭😭❤️

AN: Here it is! I chose Jungkook because Yoongi currently has a whole fic dedicated to him lol! Enjoy this fluffy mess!!! :)

You hated him.

With everything in your body, you absolutely detested him.

Jeon Jungkook and his stupid head of perfect jet black hair, and his stupid smile and the way every girl at your school seems to just melt in his presence.

And maybe once upon a time you might have melted in his presence too, but not anymore.

“It really wasn’t that bad,” Your friend Seulgi shook her head, “Honestly, Y/N. Everyone just thought it was funny.”

“So it’s funny that he called me a virgin in front of everyone?” “He didn’t call you a-”

“Seulgi,” Your eyes narrowed at your friend dangerously, “Don’t defend him.”

“I’m just saying,” She shrugged, “He was joking around. Jungkook says that stuff about other people all the time, Y/N.” “It wasn’t funny for me,” You answered, hurt that your friend couldn’t see how badly Jungkook’s words upset you, “I didn’t take it as a joke.” “Well he’s not wrong, is he?” It was then that you got really upset.

“Seulgi!”

“You’re a virgin,” She threw her hands in frustration, “Why is that so embarrassing?”

“It’s not.” You shook your head, “I just don’t know why everybody else has to know about it?”

“Everybody does not-”

“Alright. Everybody in our biology class then,” You muttered, slamming your locker shut and glaring at your supposed friend, “I don’t even know why he picked on me.”

“Because you were the one that was reading about the different phases of orgasm,” Seulgi rolled her eyes, “Come on Y/N. Nobody else took it as seriously.” “They laughed at me.” “Because it was funny.” It was like going in circles with her. Seulgi wasn’t a bad friend, but she certainly wasn’t as empathetic as she could have been. After all, Jungkook calling you out in front of your peers for finally understanding what an orgasm is was cruel. And whether he’d meant it to sting as badly as it did or not, you were still hurt.

“Forget it.” You tried to brush it off, “I’ve got to get to my next class.”

Seulgi pulled a face, “Are you mad at me?” You shook your head, “I’m mad at Jungkook.”

And you were going to stay mad at him. For a very, very long time.

After that dreaded incident in biology class you tried to ignore Jungkook the best you could.

And for the most part it worked.

Until one day when you were walking home after band practice and somehow Jungkook found you just outside the school parking lot.

“Y/N.”

You turned and found yourself facing the boy you had spent so many weeks secretly detesting. He was smiling at you as if you were the best of friends.

“What do you want?” You asked him acidically.

“Wow. What crawled up your ass today?”

“Leave me alone Jungkook,” You grumbled, pulling your hoodie further down so that you don’t have to see him.

“Woah, woah, woah.” He grabbed you by the elbow and you flinched away from his touch, “Seriously. What’s up?”

You spun around to face him, an angry glare already set on your face.

“Jungkook. Why are you talking to me?” He raised a brow, “Because we’re friends?”

You rolled your eyes, “We are not friends. We’re just two people in the same grade that go to the same school.”

Jungkook seemed taken aback by your anger. You wondered if perhaps you were being a little too harsh. But then you were reminded of the way he’d embarrassed you in front of everyone, and you reckoned he deserved it.

“Well I consider you my friend,” He shrugged nonchalantly, and you almost hated him more for the way he just seemed to brush your anger off.

“What are you still doing at school anyway?” You had started walking again, and Jungkook fell into step beside you.

“Football practice.”

For the first time you noticed that his hair was still slightly damp.

“Ah yes. The sport of meat heads,” You tried to insult him but the truth was it came out a little lamely.

Jungkook laughed, “You’re not wrong. Most of the guys on the team are total dumbasses.”

“Yourself included.”

He hissed, “Wow. That one hurt.” You shot him a look and noticed that somehow he was still smiling. Did he somehow miss the edge to your voice? Or the way you were trying so very hard to avoid him? Why was he impenetrable to your hatred?

“I don’t really like football all that much,” He added, “I just play because I think it’ll look good on my college applications. Have you ever been to a game, Y/N?” You rolled your eyes, “In what world would I go to a football game?” Jungkook’s smile widened, “In a world where I invite you to one.”

You turned to shoot him another glare. He just laughed at the expression on your face.

“I’m not coming to a football game.” He shrugged, “You’re the one missing out on watching me flex my big muscles.”

“I think I’ll survive.”

Jungkook paused and despite yourself, you stopped as well.

“My house is down this street,” He told you, and you cursed your heart from fluttering at the smile on his face.

How could he be so annoying, and so damn attractive all at the same time?

“Bye Jungkook.” You turned quickly, trying to ignore your body’s reaction to him. You heard him chuckle from somewhere behind you.

“See you around Y/N.”

When you rounded the corner you froze for a moment, trying to collect yourself.

You still hated him. No matter how cute he was.

Trust Jeon Jungkook to find a way to date one of your friends.

It had been six months since you first realised the depth of your hatred for him, and now you were both in junior year. Seulgi, it seemed, had defended him so fiercely because she wanted to be his girlfriend. And even though perhaps part of you was still a little bitter, you found yourself trying to move past it because what else could you do?

But sitting on the same table at lunch every day was slowly starting to take its toll on you.

“Y/N,” Jungkook smiled as you sat down in the last available seat. Which was, unfortunately, the one facing him, “How’s life in the library?” You rolled your eyes, “Jungkook, just because I do well at school does not mean I spend all my free time in the library.” He laughed at the iciness behind your tone and really that was what annoyed you so much.

“I would have to disagree,” He shrugged, placing a casual arm over Seulgi’s shoulders, “The librarian told me she’s seen you asleep in there before.” To anyone else, Jungkook’s teasing would be taken with a smile and a pinch of salt.

There was no malice to his jokes, and you knew that deep (deep, deep, deep) down inside Jungkook was actually a pretty decent guy. But you’d developed a sort of obsession with hating him since he embarrassed you all those months ago, and every time he poked fun at you, it only made things worse.

“Well at least I know what a book is,” You retorted sharply, “Which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you.”

Jungkook laughed and Seulgi rolled her eyes.

“You do realise that Jungkookie has a 4.0 GPA, right? He gets the highest grades in our year.” “Second highest,” He corrected, “Y/N actually has the highest grades in our year.”

This surprised you.

“Really?” You sputtered, unable to comprehend how Jungkook could be funny, popular, sporty and smart all at the same time.

“Really, really,” He winked at you, “And don’t worry I’m not planning on knocking you off your throne anytime soon. Second place is just fine for me.”

Your friends moved on to a different topic of conversation, but you couldn’t stop yourself from mulling over what Jungkook had said.

Was he really fine with being second place?

You watched him carefully, from behind the sandwich you were eating, and against your better judgement you had to admit that Jungkook really did seem like the kind of person that didn’t care too much about grades or whether he was first or second place.

He just seemed happy.

And you didn’t know why, but for some reason that seemed to make you hate him even more.

“I don’t understand why you’re being such a baby about it.”

“Yeah. C’mon Y/N. It’s just a game.” You weren’t sure exactly how you’d gotten yourself into this situation. You hadn’t wanted to come to this stupid, stupid party. But Seulgi had forced you to come.

Her on again, off again relationship with Jungkook was currently off, and she said that he was going to be there and she needed to make an impression. She wasn’t about to play the role of broken hearted girlfriend, she’d told you adamantly.

And for some bizarre reason, that also meant you had to go with her.

“Just spin the bottle, Y/N,” Seulgi nudged you almost painfully, “Why do you have to always be so weird about stuff like this?”

“I’m not being weird.” You answered sharply, “I just think seven minutes in heaven is juvenile.”

“Is that because you’ve never kissed anyone?” This comment came from one of Seulgi’s airhead friends- Irene you think her name was- and she smirked at you with a quirked dark brow.

You wanted to tell her to shut up.

She was trying to goad you into an argument, and you knew that.

You shrugged, “I don’t think that’s any of your business.” “That’s a yes if I ever heard one,” Irene leaned back with a satisfied smile on her face, “Just skip her Seulgi. We don’t need a killjoy.”

Seulgi gave you one of her looks.

You weren’t even sure why you were still her friend. Things had changed the moment the two of you started high school. Seulgi wasn’t a bad person per say. But the two of you were completely different, and it had never been so painfully obvious thanit was right now.

“Oh fine,” You grunted, leaning forward and placing a hand on the bottle, “I’ll play your stupid game.”

“What’s this?”

You turned your gaze and saw Jungkook approaching the small circle you had been forced to sit in.

“We’re playing seven minutes in heaven,” Seulgi answered, throwing her long black hair over one shoulder, “Do you want to join?” Jungkook smirked, “If Y/N’s playing then I’ll definitely join.” You glared at him because how it been almost a year and you still hated him so much? He squeezed in between Irene and another guy- Taehyung you think his name was- and shot you a smile.

“Go on, Y/N.”

You took a deep breath and squeezed your eyes shut, praying to the universe and God and anything other higher power that you wouldn’t get caught in that stupid closet with Jungkook.

“Well, well, well,” Your eyes snapped open and you groaned, “Looks like you’re stuck with me, Y/N.”

Of course.

Of course you’d spin the bottle and it would land on Jeon fucking Jungkook. He stood and so did you, trying to ignore the searing glare Seulgi was giving you.

It was her own damn fault. She’d forced you to play this stupid game, and these were the consequences.

Irene rolled her eyes, “Sorry you got stuck with her, Jungkook.”

He laughed, “I’m pretty happy with the outcome actually.” You stood quickly, trying to force down the blush that had unconsciously made it's way to your cheeks. What was he saying?

“Don’t be so nice, Jungkook,” Irene continued, “Seven minutes in hell, more like.”

You wanted to cry. Why was she being so mean?

“Hey Irene,” Jungkook quirked a dark brow, “Are you jealous? Stop being such a bitch.”

Your eyes widened. Was he defending you?

Irene rolled her eyes, “Whatever. Just get in the closet.”

Jungkook grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside of the closet with him. When the door clicked closed, your heart felt like it had swam all the way up your body to your throat.

The truth was you hadn’t kissed anybody, and the fact that you were suddenly in a very tight space with a- begrudgingly very attractive- member of the opposite sex was causing something strange and vulnerable to bubble up in the pit of your stomach.

“Y/N.” You had been forcing yourself to look away from Jungkook, but the sudden sound of his voice caused you to look up at him.

He was a good head taller than you, and you hated to admit it but the smile on his face was really quite appealing.

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

You breathed out a sigh- of relief or regret you weren’t sure.

“But if you want people to think I have,” There was a twinkle in his eye that was doing dangerous things to your heart, “Then I’ll keep your secret.” Your heart was thundering against your chest. You breathed in slowly, carefully, trying to collect your thoughts. What was happening to you?

Jungkook’s chest was so broad, and his eyes were so kind and you wondered why you’d hated him for as long as you had? Did he really deserve it?

You shook the treacherous thoughts out of your head.

“I don’t want Irene to make fun of me,” You replied decidedly.

Jungkook smiled and you noticed there was not a hint of malice or teasing behind his dark brown eyes. Instead he was just- he was just what? Being nice?

He was being nice to you.

Jungkook took another step towards you, and your nose bumped against his clumsily. You didn’t pull away, instead you watched as he took a hand to your hair and ruffled it gently.

He pulled your jacket down your shoulder a little and nodded.

“Now you look like you’ve been thoroughly kissed.”

You hated yourself for it, but part of you wanted him to kiss you. You closed your eyes.

Would you ask him to do it? You opened your mouth- to say what exactly you were still not sure- when the door ripped open. Seulgi was glaring at you before you even had a chance to say anything to her.

“Did you two have fun?” You wanted to tell her nothing happened. But then you remembered the way Jungkook had ruffled your hair, and pulled your jacket down your shoulder. You certainly looked like something had happened. And you felt incredibly guilty but you knew in some deep dark part of your mind, you had wanted something to happen.

“It’s the game Seulgi,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, “Don’t be jealous. It doesn’t suit you.”

He brushed past her and threw you a surreptitious wink over his shoulder.

“Nothing happened,” You whispered to her when it was just the two of you, “But please don’t tell anyone else.” Seulgi seemed relieved at your words.

“I should have known,” She sighed heavily, “That’s alright Y/N. I won’t tell anyone else. You’re not really his type anyway, are you?”

You knew she wasn’t trying to be cruel. After all, Seulgi had always known about your less than positive feelings towards her on again off again boyfriend.

“Don’t be silly,” You guffawed, “Me and Jungkook? Gross.”

And yet, you wanted to correct her.

Because as silly as it was, for those brief seven minutes in that closet, you wanted to be his type.

You were dead.

So very, very dead.

In all the hustle and bustle of the approaching summer vacation, you’d forgotten all about the big pop quiz that was tomorrow.

If you failed this or even scored less than ninety, you’d be kicked out of your top spot.

And that just couldn’t be. You needed those grades if you were going to get into Yale.

So that’s how you’d found yourself tucked away in the very back of the twenty-four hour library that was a ten minute bike ride from your house.

Your nose was buried in books, and you were furiously scribbling away notes, when someone cleared their throat from above you.

You looked up, startled, and almost threw up when you saw who was smiling down at you.

Jungkook.

“Y/N,” He smiled lazily, “What a surprise to see you here.”

You noticed the stack of books in his hand, “I uh- I’m studying.” You answered lamely, the edge to your voice that was usually there whenever you spoke to Jungkook, was gone.

“I can see that.” You had to admit, he always looked good. And right now was no exception.

“The big pop quiz huh?” He asked, taking a seat opposite you without even asking.

For some reason you didn’t have it in you to argue with him.

(Maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you always thought you had.)

“What are you doing here?” He smirked, “What do you think? I’m studying too.”

You paused, watching as Jungkook flipped through his notes, and pushed his reading glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“What are you doing?” You asked eventually.

Jungkook quirked a brow, “What does it look like? I’m studying.” “Yes,” You sighed loudly, “But why are you sat here?”

He didn’t even seem a little taken aback by your question. He shrugged.

“We’re friends right?”

Your eyes widened, “Friend?” “Oh c’mon Y/N,” He rolled his eyes, “Are you ever going to stop pretending to hate me?” His boldness surprised you. Jungkook had never directly confronted you about your apparent hatred for him. And to be absolutely honest with yourself, over the time you’d known him you had almost forgotten why you hated him so much in the first place.

“I- uh, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He pulled a face, “Oh come on. You’ve hated me ever since I said that stupid thing in biology in Sophmore year.”

Your heart turned in your chest.

He remembered that?

“Oh- I uh…”

“Did I ever apologise?” He quirked a brow, “Guess not. Well I’m sorry. I was just trying to be funny but I shouldn’t have embarrassed you like that, huh?”

Suddenly you felt a rush of stupidity.

You stood up quickly, “I’ve got to go.” Jungkook quirked a brow at you and frowned, “What? You don’t need to study anymore?” You weren’t sure why exactly you were bolting. Perhaps it was the fact that your hatred for Jungkook suddenly seemed so stupid.

Or perhaps it was the fact that the boy in front of you suddenly made your heart flutter and your pulse race and you knew what that meant.

“Nope. Don’t need to study,” You laughed nervously, “So I’m off.”

Jungkook seemed really confused by your behaviour, and you couldn’t blame him.

“But I was-” “Bye Jungkook,” You cut him off before he could say anything else, “See you around.” You were out of there without a second glance. You didn’t even bother looking back at Jungkook as you raced out of the front doors, even though you could feel his eyes burning into your back.

Damn.

How had everything gotten so complicated?

Right now, you hated your mum.

“C’mon Y/N,” She told you, rolling your eyes, “It’s another job. Another job I need.”

You knew that essentially, you didn’t have a choice. You could kick and scream and cry and threaten bloody murder, but at the end of the day this was your mother’s livelihood.

You just couldn’t believe that of all the parties in all of Seoul, your mother had chosen to cater at Jeon Jungkook’s eighteenth birthday party.

You’d been invited of course. You were still Seulgi’s friend, and even though you were both seniors now and didn’t spend as much time together as you used to, Jungkook had invited you anyway.

But you hadn’t been planning on going.

You didn’t like parties anyway, and you knew you had to help your mother with work that weekend. So you’d used that as an excuse and smiled and shook your head when Seulgi invited you to what she assured was going to be the party of the year.

The irony was, of course, that you were going.

But not as a guest.

Oh no. You were going as the help.

You still hadn’t spoken to him since that day at the library. That was almost a month ago, and even though you saw Jungkook around school occasionally, and sometimes even around Seulgi, you avoided him as best you could.

It was childish and cowardly, and the truth was you hated yourself for it but what could you do?

You knew you didn’t hate him anymore, and the thought of feeling anything else for Jungkook was far too scary and complicated to think about.

“Remember Y/N,” Your mother was telling you as she pulled the van up in front of a huge three storey house. You’d known Jungkook’s parents were wealthy, but you hadn’t realised how wealthy, “There’s going to be a lot of influential people here tonight.”

“I know mum,” You bit back the tears, “I’ll do my best.” “Thanks honey.” She leaned over and gave you a kiss on the cheek as she put the car in park.

You knew how embarrassing this was going to be.

Everybody at school would be there. And even though you weren’t embarrassed of your mum’s profession, or even the fact that you also worked with her, you couldn’t help it that some of the familiar teenage need to keep up appearances, had crept up on you.

You climbed out of the van and with baited breath, followed your mum to the front door.

“We’ll tell them we’re here, and then we can set up.” You nodded, afraid that if you started speaking you might cry.

Your mum rang the doorbell, and after a moment, the portal swung open.

Of course the person standing on the other side was none other than Jeon fucking Jungkook.

He looked as devilishly handsome as ever, and you weren’t even surprised when your heart turned over in your chest at the sight of him.

You looked up and connected gazes with him.

First there was a flash of recognition.

“Y/N!” He smiled widely, “You’re a little early…” Your mother interrupted, “Oh uh Y/N’s not a guest tonight. She’s with me, we’re here to serve food. She’s my daughter.” You waited for it. For Jungkook to make fun of you. To laugh and say something obscenely cruel. But it never came.

“Oh,” His eyes dimmed a little and you wondered if he seemed even a little disappointed, “Oh okay. Right. Uh let me just get my mum.”

It was about half an hour later that you and your mother were loading things into the staff kitchen, and Mrs Jeon was explaining how tonight’s events would unfold.

“We don’t need you in there serving food to be honest,” She smiled at you kindly, “Just make sure the refreshment table is always full, and the guests can handle themselves.”

You wondered why she’d suddenly changed her mind.

Your mother had told you earlier that serving the food would be part of tonight’s job. Still, you weren’t complaining. The less you had to be around your peers, the better.

“If you’ll come with me,” Mrs Jeon directed her instruction to your mother, “I’ll show you where we keep the utensils you may need for tonight.” Your mum turned to you, “Stay here and organise the food into starter, main and dessert?”

You nodded, watching as the two older women left you on your own. You turned to the table of the food in front of you, sorting through the different pastries and half-cooked things your mother had prepared over the course of the last week for tonight.

Perhaps tonight wouldn’t be as terrible as you’d originally imagined.

You just wanted to avoid Seulgi and everybody else in your grade as best as you possibly could.

“Y/N.” You almost dropped the plate you had been carrying. You turned quickly, and you felt your body flush at the sight of Jungkook in a suit.

“Hi.” You whispered, your throat as dry as the Sahara.

“I thought I invited you tonight,” He took a step towards you and suddenly you felt as if all the air had been sucked out of your chest.

Oh god.

You really were a goner for those big brown eyes.

“You did,” Your blush thickened, “But my mum needed help.”

When he was standing about a foot away from you he cocked his head to one side, “That’s a shame.”

You nodded anxiously, turning back to carry on with the work you’d started on. There was a beat of silence, and then suddenly you felt Jungkook’s lips by your ear.

“Do you still hate me, Y/N?” You spun sharply, and your breath was literally stolen from your throat when you realised Jungkook’s nose was pressed almost firmly against your own. His closeness was driving you almost insane.

You shook your head, “No. I’m not sure I ever did.”

Another beat.

“So… Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you leaned into his arms, “Please.”

He leaned in towards you and pressed the softest kiss against your lips.

Your first kiss.

Your heart felt like it was going to crawl out of your chest and out of your mouth and you realised finally finally finally that the fire inside of you that you’d always taken for hate, was something very very different.

“I think I love you,” You told him softly when he pulled away.

Jungkook smiled in that way that always took your breath away, “Of course you do silly. Why do you think I spent so long hanging around Seulgi? I was just waiting for you to realise it.”

You laughed even though somewhere inside your heart you were sure you should be crying.

“So you love me too?”

He nodded, pressing another kiss against the side your mouth.

“I love you.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled and you sure you wanted to marry those creases.

“Sorry I wasted so much time pretending to hate you.” He shrugged, “I enjoyed it.” You laughed, “I have to admit, so did I.” There’s a thin line between love and hate.

Thank God you finally crossed it.

#jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jungkook fluff #romance #hate to love #enemies to lovers #cutie

715 notes · View notes

spoopybruh · 6 years

Text

Reframing Perspectives

Fandom: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)

Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej

Characters: Ryan Bergara, Shane Madej

Summary: Just like he said, Shane inevitably slips up after a long period of doing so well and Ryan calls him out on it as promised. He’s convinced he’d single-handedly ruined everything he fought for. Ryan disagrees.

Note: This is the third part continuation of Taking Risks (1) and Steady(2). As mentioned, this is a fic version where Shane is on the spectrum, hence his thought processes differ. As someone who’s on the spectrum himself, I want to try and paint a picture of what we struggle with as realistically as possible. I’m aware that people might find some of Shane’s actions/perspective to be cruel. And I do want to address that emotions aren’t fact. Hold our actions accountable, like everyone else, not our emotions. Help us reframe our perspectives, meet us in the middle.

Additional Tags: Stigmatisation of mental illnesses

For as long as he could recall, Shane Madej has always been standing on the opposite end of a glass tank, looking in on civilisation behind a cold unyielding surface that he can’t quite breach. So close he pretends that he could brush the fingertips of others without feeling distance and the isolation that comes along with it. Growing up, he’s made aware of the differences between himself and the rest of his peers.

It’s not that he couldn’t feel anything, of course he could. He just couldn’t understand why others chose to be torn up over one matter for an extended period of time. Sure, he comprehends when situations are negative and unwelcome. He just doesn’t necessarily think dwelling on it for too long is any form of a recommended solution. And it’s uncomfortable, because what else was he supposed to say to make other people’s sadness, anger and the like go away? There’s no clear manuscript for that and he’d be lying if he said that continued distress of others doesn’t frustrate him. He wants it to stop. He cares enough to want it to stop but somehow whatever he says is misconstrued into not caring, or being inconsiderate.

Shane vividly remembers the time he had baby teeth knocked out when he got exasperated at one of his cousins over them crying about their deceased pet for an uncomfortably long time. “I don’t see why you can’t just get over it. It’s dead, it’s not coming back.” He’d tried to explain and before he knows it, teeth on the ground. His mother had broken up the brawl that ensued soon after and upon finding out what happened, tried to patiently explain that they were sad because they lost precious family. And Shane doesn’t get it. He doesn’t. He comprehends loss obviously, he just doesn’t understand why there’s anything wrong with speaking the truth. That day, he leaves with the knowledge that it was the wrong thing to say. It’s only years later, through watching boring drama shows on television, that he learns what he was supposed to do and say instead of speaking the truth.

But that was only one instance. There were many others that culminated into repeated visits to therapist after therapist. He doesn’t remember much afterwards, only the occasional memory of his mother crying and that sick feeling that something is wrong. He was a teenager when he finally comprehends what exactly was wrong. Apparently he doesn’t have the same empathy quotient as an average person. What bogus. He’s not a killer. He’s nothing like the criminals one sees in the news. Sure he’s had the occasional errant thought here and there but who hasn’t had inappropriate intrusive thoughts? Maybe he’s an alien, he theorised. And for a while that brings him a measure of comfort even though he knows that it couldn’t be further from the truth. At least he wouldn’t feel like the strangest thing around, what with plenty of other strange aliens around.

He’s probably 14 or 15 when he decides that blending in was a lot easier than getting people to see his point of view. There’s something beyond frustrating to feel like the only one studying people and their behavioral patterns but he makes do. He adapts and survives out of necessity. He picks up on verbal cues, facial expressions, body language and memorises the ‘right’ responses for each social situation, he learns even when he doesn’t understand why. Maybe if he faked it hard enough, it’d become something real. It never did become anything real.

Just another constant feeling like he’s walking on a tightrope. One misstep and he’d be sent plummeting into the deep end. Some days, he thinks maybe it’d be easier if he just let himself fall. Maybe it’d be easier to just...become the monster people seem to think he is. Maybe then he’d stop feeling like he’s in so much pain, maybe he’d stop resenting himself and others for having to do this when he can’t. Having to always pretend and give something he doesn’t have. He’s not a sham. Not a charlatan. At least it wasn’t a willing choice.

Throughout the course of his life, he’s done a pretty good job keeping his head on straight. He’s adapted. He’s got things under control. He’s doing fine. But as always, he has to ruin things for himself. That impulse. The ‘unacceptable’ streak in him that he tries to suppress. He slips up.

This time, it’s over budgeting disputes. During a meeting. With their superiors. Shane honestly didn’t mean to do what he did at all. But when faced with excuse after excuse, delay after delay, any sane rational human being would have seen red. The flow of conversation is briefly interrupted by the sound of glass shattering and a curse as he sets the remnants of what had been his own cup down on the table. He’s dimly aware that the room is deathly silent now and that everyone is currently eyeing him like he’s a ticking time bomb ready to go off. Shane wouldn’t fault them for that because for the first time in a good long while, he’s livid.

Movement in his peripheral vision tells him that Ryan’s shifting in his seat next to him, but he’s not interested in looking back. Not interested in anything else except the words that came out in a harsh clipped tone. “Of course you’re not going to give us the proposed sum we need. You’re going to hem and haw for an eternity but who the hell are we kidding? The answer’s always going to be no. Because we’re hunting ghosts and things that go fucking bump in the night. We’re not earning your company anymore money than we already are. This wouldn’t have been the case if we were-”

“SHANE!”

The rest of his words were cut off with a loud shout of his name and he finally turns around, shoulders tense, coiled tight. He’s yelling back before he could stop himself. “WHAT!!!” Ryan’s hands hovered in the air for a few brief moments, as if he’d been meaning to touch him, before he retracts them. Good, Shane catches himself thinking with viciousness. He’s not in the mood to be touched.

"Shane.” Ryan’s voice is quiet but firm when he addresses him again. Good ol reliable boogara. “It’s enough. I’ll handle this. You should get that treated.” Against his own volition, Shane followed the motioning to his own hand, blinking when he notices several cuts. Probably from the impact of glass shattering. It should alarm him that he hadn’t noticed that he’d been bleeding from his shaking hands. It doesn’t.

“Go. I got this. Trust me, alright?”

For a moment, he wants to rebel. He wants to continue yelling. But Ryan’s already moving to block him off from the meeting space with his own body and he’s not going to hurt Ryan. Hes not.

“Fine!” He finds his voice again enough to snap, making a beeline towards the door as he throws both his hands up in frustration. “Whatever, do what you want.” He leaves like Ryan wanted, locates the nearest washroom, sticks his hand under the running cold water and lets himself fall to pieces.

When Ryan finds him again, Shane is sat in one of the spare rest areas in the Buzzfeed office, unable to quite bring himself to return to his desk yet. He sees the other approach and tenses imperceptibly. Waits. He’s expecting anger. He’s expecting disappointment. He’s expecting a lot of things from him. Instead what he gets was a level “I cleaned up the rest of your coffee so you owe me a beer.”

"I’m not sorry.”

“I know.” The calmness in Ryan’s tone has Shane bristling yet again. This is wrong. He’s supposed to be the angry one. He has every right to be. “What the hell do you know?”

"I know you’re not really mad at me. And we’re not having a fight right now.”

“Oh? We’re not? Because that sure sounds like fighting words to me.”

“Shane-” He watches Ryan run a hand through his own hair, appearing a lot more tired in the aftermath of whatever went down in the office. “We’re not fighting. I’m not angry over you not being sorry even if you want me to be. Don’t get me wrong, I thought that was shitty and I disagree with what you did but I’m not mad at you. I just wanna know one thing.”

Shane had been about to needle him. Had been about to push and prod so that he could just explode on him so that it would have been the final blow. But the presence of a question has him pause, hesitate. “And what is that?”

“Do you have any...hang ups about the success of the Worth It boys, the Try Guys or you know...everyone else who has a series going? Do you think they don’t deserve what they have?”

“What? No! Of course not! Ryan, what the fuck.”

“So you agree that they’ve all worked hard to get to where they are. And they deserve all of what they’re currently getting.”

“Yeah. What does this have anything to do with-”

“You were going to use them as an example, weren’t you? With what you said back in the meeting. You were going to say that the execs wouldn’t have hesitated if we were any of those people.”

Fuck. It stung with how accurate Ryan was. Shane huffs out a deep breath to steady himself. He could lie, but Ryan knows him enough to see when he’s trying to bullshit his way through. And what was the point of lying now? It’s not going to redeem him. Ryan’s not going to feel sorry for him and excuse what he did.

“I was.” The admission was somehow a lot more painful than losing his teeth back then. “I.. just wanted to make them hurt... Unsolved is ours, Ryan. It’s our baby...I don’t hate any of those people. I’m proud of them for what they accomplished. I just-” Another deep breath. “I just wanted to hurt the execs so I said what I said. It’s not them, it’s just...about hurting the execs in the most effective way possible. That’s all. I know it’s a shitty thing to do but I’m not sorry about that. I’m just not.”

"I know.” The other end of the sofa dips with the weight of Ryan when he takes a seat beside Shane, their knees briefly knocking together. “That’s why I’m not angry. You didn’t do it out of intent to sabotage the rest- that I would have been pissed off about. And I’m not going to argue with you since you knew it’s a fucked up manipulative thing to do even if you don’t feel bad doing it. But Shane.”

Ryan held his gaze unflinchingly when he finally peels his line of sight off the floor to focus on him.

“It wouldn’t make me happy if we got a budget increase because of that. When we started Unsolved, we agreed that integrity would be our thing, didn’t we? No faking of evidence, no shady shit. If we were to get a budget increase because we guilt tripped the execs, that’d make us hypocrites. We’d be going back on our word. It wouldn’t make me happy and I don’t think you would feel like it’s something we earned together through our own efforts either. Would you?”

He’s forced to exhale when he untucks the bottom lip he’d been chewing on to reply.

“...Right. That’s fair. You...have a point.” It wouldn’t be their thing anymore. Ryan’s half right. Truthfully, Shane doesn’t give a shit about how they can acquire more for their spending budget. But he does...he gives a shit about Ryan. He gives a shit about their thing. He gives a shit about not ruining it. For himself. For Ryan. For them.

“So. No more, alright? No more of that whole fuckin dickery back then. I won’t force you to apologise but I trust you to make things right.”

“Yeah. I’ll...be more careful.”

“Good.”

A warm hand clasps his shoulder and squeezes. Shane wants to lean into his touch, he lets himself do so for a little while. Just for a little while.

“You know what? How about we look further into the regulations and rules of our contracts, big guy? That’ll at least refresh our memories on what we can and cannot do. Maybe we can find some loopholes. You know, in terms of getting external sponsors and such.”

The fact that Ryan could still be speaking to him so normally has Shane feeling like it’s a lot easier to breathe. And for one moment, he thinks he could cry. He doesn’t. Instead, he grins.

“Why colour me impressed! There’s that sharp Detective Bergara brain whizzing with sneaky ideas.”

“Shut up. Inspector Shane.”

Ryan’s grip is considerately gentle when he tugs at Shane’s hand in a motion to drag him to his feet so they could get started. And much like always, Shane follows. There were plenty of things he could have said. How could you accept me that easily? for one. What’s wrong with you? for another. Thank you, yet another.

He interlaces their fingers together and squeezes instead.

#shyan #shyan fic #skeptic believer #shyanlibrary #myfics

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missstormcaller · 6 years

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CAN’T FEAR YOUR OWN WORLD Vol.II Part 2 Full Translation

(This is part 5 on the app, chapter 7 continued.)

A few days ago - Department of Research and Development.

"Good grief, quite the stubborn one aren't you. I'm surprised your attitude is still uncooperative." Kurotsuchi Mayuri remained expressionless in the presence of the test subject before his eyes as he gave utterance to these words. There stood a large cylindrical glass tank. Inside, it was half filled with some sort of liquid solution, a woman who was currently submerged in that solution only up to the lower half of her body, raised her voice in anger.

"…How does it look as if I'm going to bend to your will under these circumstances? Huuhh!?" Faced with Candice who was in a state of containment as though she was sealed from head to toe, her limbs and the nape of her neck fitted with things like tubes and electrodes, Kurotsuchi Mayuri addressed her in an aloof manner. "That's an odd thing to say. The very moment you were able to shout in such a loud and clear voice, you might at least have realised that you are receiving the highest level of privilege as a specimen." "I have long been aware that you're a nutcase sadist." (TN -- she says サディスト [sadisuto] which is a loanword from the term 'sadist', that in mind the next line should make sense) "What a pity. If I were to put it in your own choice of words, I am not a sadist, but a scientist." (TN -- Mayuri says サイエンティスト [saientisuto] which is of course a loanword from the term 'scientist') "…But you don't deny that you're a nutcase huh." "Looking at it from an average person's point of view, it's only natural that you would perceive the work of a genius as strange. I feel a sense of pity towards those who can do nothing but waver in the face of unexplored endeavours and try to exclude themselves from it. It would only be a waste of time to deal with such people one after another." Candice clicked her tongue at Mayuri who displayed a haughty yet serene attitude. "And? Am I supposed to express gratitude and shed tears for the Shinigami punks who treated my injuries, and at the same time become your pawn?" "It is not accurate to say that your injuries were treated. Rather, we 'rebooted' something that was almost a corpse. Well anyway, during the time you were half a corpse, the experiments which included an autopsy are more or less complete." "Wait a minute… what did you just say!? Autopsy!?" "As far as I'm concerned, I rescued you lot from your cruel master who tried to eat his pets so untidily and without mercy too, not to mention casting you all away, so it's certainly not too farfetched to expect one or two words of gratitude." Whilst fixing a glare at Mayuri who said as such, Candice flashed a bold smile. "Ha… you merely removed the hunting dog collar from our necks. I will not fall so low as to choose a scumbag like you to be my new master."

"It's unthinkable that you would refer to me as scum. Given that I am known as a prominent gentleman among members of the Gotei 13, I don't want to treat women roughly."

"You have the nerve to say something like that and yet you don't consider this rough!?" While disregarding her cries of protest, Mayuri released a heavy sigh as he continued to speak. "In any case, my research into your rare species naturally came to a close long ago. The 'subspecies' known as Yhwach… no, I should say 'original species' to be more accurate shouldn't I… anyway, although it is somewhat trickier to carry out an analysis on you lot who have shared his powers, as long as I have a sample, synthesis of results is an easy thing. Otherwise, I'll have no choice but to continuously analyse things until things become messy, just like it did with past samples." Mayuri recalls the many gruesome experiments he used to perform on Quincies. Sometimes he would chop them up, sometimes he would grind them down to fine particles, sometimes he would drill holes into their skulls while they were still alive, and sometimes he would let the Quincy scorch their own fledglings to death during these 'experiment' days. Perhaps there is a reason why the same is not being done to Candice and the others today, whether it's simply 'because that's not necessary' as far as Mayuri is concerned, or there was a change of heart regarding some aspect of his research, this is something that would be impossible for others to comprehend. ---- As for Candice who knew nothing of the miserable fate of those Quincies much less comprehend such a thing, she was unable to accept his words as anything but a mere bluff. "It doesn't make any sense to me. If you've finished your analysis, shouldn't we have been disposed of right away? However, you don't think you can just kill me do you? Because I'll turn every last one of you assholes to ashes before I die! Starting with that Kurosaki Ichigo guy who made a fool of me!" Whilst it looks like idle talk, Candice spoke with an expression in her eyes that said she was brimming with motivation to put up a resistance for as long as she was alive. "That man has already left Soul Society. He is a naive man. So if he was to observe your current circumstances, he would probably complain that what I'm doing is unjust." Easily brushing aside her gaze which looked as if it could shoot a person to death, Mayuri gradually began to insert the 'candy’ into his words. (TN -- In Japan they say "candy and whip" to refer to what is commonly known in the west as a "carrot and stick" approach.) "Anyway, with regard to internal research, no more specimens are required. However, when it comes to actual combat in the future… that is to say, if the lot of you are uncooperative in an examination of your performance in battle, then it will be necessary to replace you with substitutes." "Substitutes…?" Mayuri fixed a piercing stare towards a perplexed Candice as he crafted his words. "I'm talking about that zombie girl and the little girl with a big appetite who mobilised together with the lot of you. It appears that recently, they've been sneaking around Hueco Mundo for some reason or another. Well, all my research concerning the zombie has been completed, and I can also make an educated guess about the big eater's abilities so I'm not particularly interested in them." "……?"

For a moment, she couldn't quite grasp what was being said, but her memory circuit soon made the connection, the sparks of hope that had already disappeared, began to flicker once more. "Hey… just a minute. Lil and Gigi are still alive!? Well then, is Bambi alive too!?" "Ah, if your talking about the girl with the bombs, it seems she's still zombified. Honestly, the one time they had made an appearance before me, they didn't even notice that I had administered tracking bacteria into her system, these so-called Quincies truly are an unsuspecting bunch." At Mayuri's unsettling grin, Candice masked her slight joy with irritation as she spoke up. "…If that's the case, why are you leaving them alone? And even regardless of you, other Shinigami will have no reason to turn a blind eye to them will they?" "Much to my disappointment, in the midst of war, the captain commander and others took the liberty of accepting the proposal to put up a united front against Yhwach. So it's come to be that those girls are no longer considered hostile forces. Dear me, even if it was for the sake of bringing down Yhwach, I think that's being far too lenient." "…United front? You mean, they betrayed his majesty…?" Candice was puzzled by the various facts she was hearing for the first time. However, since she distinctly remembered the feeling of Yhwach robbing her of her powers in her final moments, she extended the scope of her speculations in her own way. "… or rather, his majesty seriously wanted us to…… if that's the case, judging from Lil's personality, she would certainly……" In response to Candice who was mumbling to herself whilst contemplating something, Mayuri proceeded to take the conversation further. Like converting poison, injected in the form of information, into sweet candy. "How about it? For my part, it is said that I have compassion coursing through my veins instead of blood, that is, if the lot of you are compliant…" "……I'd even be willing to return the specimens I've finished experimenting on, back to their Quincy friends."

Present time. In reality, Candice Catnipp did not believe Mayuri's words. She never trusted Shinigami to begin with, but among them, that man named Kurotsuchi Mayuri in particular could not be trusted. Nonetheless, Candice considered it worthwhile to just play along on this occasion and have some means of connecting with the outside world. She took into consideration the possibility of working together with Meninas McAllon who was taken prisoner alongside her, and even the chance of catching the Shinigami off guard and taking advantage of the opportunity if she was able to get in contact with Lil and the others who were still out there. Of course, she can't be too optimistic, but as far as Candice was concerned, it's enough reason to temporarily pose as a Shinigami puppet. Even if the same had been included among Kurotsuchi Mayuri's calculations. That's why Candice did not plan to make any compromise for the task she was assigned to. "Incapacitate the Fullbringer and then secure him." As a Quincy, Candice had always fought against Hollows or Shinigami, however she knew next to nothing about the existence of Fullbringers. She felt as though Lil had told her something about them before, but after all, determining that they were a very small group of gifted individuals who weren't even hostile forces, she didn't pay enough attention to the topic. Nevertheless, Candice had no intention of being regretful of that. This is because she strongly prides herself on the idea that no matter what kind of foe, they would all fail to to keep up with her lightning strikes, nor could they even hope to ward off such an attack. Be that as it may, that pride was once smashed to pieces during the war with the Shinigami, beginning with Kurosaki Ichigo. ---- But it was precisely for this reason, that when her first arrow was repelled and sent flying by that big sword, her limit which was known as being short-tempered, was easily sidestepped. And then, utilising a transfer technique which employed the use of shadows characteristic of the "Wandenreich" and derived from the 'equipment' Mayuri had prepared, she was able to throw an extra large bolt of lightning at point-blank range towards her targets. Although her might has significantly weakened now that she has lost the power of her Vollständig, the blow from her "Electrocution" still far surpasses any lightning in the realm of nature. Kurotsuchi Mayuri who was observing the lightning strike from a fair distance away, shook his head whilst his eyes narrowed. "Oh for crying out loud, apparently the meaning of words 'Securing a target' has not been properly conveyed." The lightning strike was unleashed with the intention of completely reducing her opponents to burnt cinders. As a thunderous noise that tore through the very space itself reached his ears after a few seconds of delay, Mayuri released a sigh with a blank expression on his face. "I don't remember preserving her so haphazardly to the point where her brain tissue would be made to decay." At Mayuri's back, the throaty voice of a man could be heard. "I told y~o~u so, didn't I? I said that tomboy seems to lack refinement, and therefore she's not suited to this kind of delicate operation…" "Who permitted you to speak?" Without turning his face to look, Mayuri pushed a button in one of his hands whereupon the crackling sound of an electric shock came from behind him, corresponding with that, the shrieks of a few men and women resounded through the air. "Hmph…in the presence of ultimate beauty, this amount of lightning is practically a spotlight for me!" "Argh… quit making any more noise! Why must we all be implicated and receive an electric shock!" "Perhaps it's better to ask, why the all-important Charlotte is jumping around with so much health and vitality!" "He increased the strength just when I thought I was steadily getting used to this…" Four people characterised by white garments and scars on their bodies, each sang their own praises or let slip words of complaint. Charlotte Chuhlhourne. Dordoni Alessandro Del Socaccio. Cirucci Sanderwicci. Luppi Antenor. They are powerful members of the "Arrancar" who would not normally exist in Soul Society. Treated as deceased and brought back to life in the Department of Research and Development long before Candice and the others, they were forced to serve as members of the "Kurotsuchi Corpse Unit" which simultaneously held elements of being both a test subject and a hunting dog. In the end, Dordoni and Cirucci who were well prepared to accept jobs in the form of a contract, have not yet lost heart for the sake of their own objectives, Luppi has half abandoned hope and accepted the state of affairs around him, and Charlotte seems to enjoy his current situation to a certain extent, each had varying agendas. "What's more, was it really necessary for us to come along on this trip?" At Dordoni's query, Mayuri uttered his reply in a detached manner and without averting his eyes from the lightning.

"You will be a sort of suppression device in the event of a malfunction with the Quincy specimens. Haven't I effectively communicated to you my benevolent mercy which is allowing you to breath in the outside air this very moment?" "If you merely want to suppress them, you can use the electric shocks and poisons you're so proud of." "Hey wait, quit provoking him. What's to be done if we receive electric shocks by being implicated again?" Cirucci muttered idle complaints and Luppi rebuked her for it, meanwhile Charlotte struck an enigmatic pose in a spot that was a little further away. "Anyway, what happened to the promise of letting me meet up with that orange-haired niño?" At Dordoni's words, a bored looking Mayuri gave a shrug of his shoulders as he replied. "I'm going to bring you along to the next best thing. After all, the target to be captured this time, was a substitute Shinigami same as that Kurosaki Ichigo… a man who lost his life by suffering a defeat at the hands of Kurosaki Ichigo." Hearing those words, Dordoni's facial expression became tense. "Woah… he actually killed a fellow human being rather than a Hollow like us, has he cast aside that innocent nature of his? If that's the case, I suppose I can't call him ‘niño’ anymore." "He's quite an extraordinary specimen, for a human. Moreover, he is also the man that once cut down the Quincy Ishida Uryū." Then, Cirucci who appeared to be uninterested until just now, raised her voice. "Huh!? Just a minute, stop screwing around! You don't mean to tell me that irritating Quincy four-eyes, was easily knocked down by that nobody over there!?" "Oh, and if it's true, then that fact alone would be proof enough that he's not a simple 'nobody'. Well, that's precisely why I ordered the Quincy corpses to recover him this time." In response to Mayuri who continued with his observations, Luppi mutters something as if speaking to himself whilst looking in the direction of the flash of light which gleamed brightly. "Recover you say, at this rate there's probably nothing left of them by now." However, there was no sign of anxiety on Mayuri's face. "…Interesting." "Huh? …What is, that?" And finally, the smoke that rose up from the scene and the afterglow that was scorched into the back of their eyelids simultaneously began to fade, watching what materialised within their field of vision ---- every member of the corpse unit including Luppi, widened their eyes. Whilst smiling in content, Mayuri compared the data streaming in from his observation mechanism with the spectacle before him. "If that is part of the power of his 'Fullbring', then I am truly intrigued."

#CAN'T FEAR YOUR OWN WORLD #CFYOW #BLEACH #bleach novel #mytranslationtag #Mayuri Kurotsuchi #Candice Catnipp #charlotte chuhlhourne #luppi antenor #cirucci sanderwicci #Dordoni #ginjo kugo

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eillibsniknej · 6 years

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Please Say Yes (Bechloe Fic)

Or that time Beca decided to ask Aubrey for her blessing to propose to Chloe

Beca looked nervous and it was weird.

Like, just super weird.

There had been times when she was sure Beca was nervous. Their first finals, every final after that, the worlds. But she never really looked nervous in those moments, she just became… Fidgety. Fidgety and a little bit hyper. Like a kid that had had too much sugar and couldn’t calm down. Or a squirrel that had been caught and hadn’t yet chosen whether fight or flight was the appropriate response.

She also became a bit of a blurter, saying everything that came to her mind as if keeping it just in her head would somehow ruin the performance. Which turned out not to be such a bad thing when before their second finals performance she blurted out to Chloe that she ‘loved everything about you, including your Ariel hair no matter what all those kids in your elementary school said’. Not super eloquent but that had always been Beca’s style. Besides, the sexual tension between those two was beginning to suffocate the rest of the girls. It’s not like Chloe herself was overly fussed on the delivery when she got to shove her tongue down the brunette’s throat, much to everyone else’s disgust.

But now Beca looked properly nervous. Her fidgeting had somehow increased tenfold if the three ripped up napkins were anything to go by. They were ripped up before she even got there as well, she didn’t know whether to be proud or concerned. When she shook her hand, which was also weird, it was shaking and sweaty, making her face scrunch up in revulsion. Beca must have seen her because her face paled to the point of matching her own pristine blouse before rubbing her hands along her jeans and releasing a strained chuckle that seemed anything but real.

She didn’t know what was going on, but if she wasn’t so concerned, she would almost think it was funny seeing her so put out.

She and Beca had grown closer over the last few years, though it was through no fault of their own. Originally, neither had intended to spend time with one another outside of the Bellas, but their girlfriends had other plans. As much as she loved both Chloe and Stacie, locking her and Beca in a room together with ‘conversation starter’ cue cards was not the fantastic idea the other girls thought it would be. In fact, it lead to an argument so huge that Beca ended up dislocating her shoulder in an attempt to shoulder barge the door down. Turns out the cue card with ‘ask me about my controlling father’ was not the best bonding topic. On the bright side, the two of them had a proper conversation about their fathers while she visited Beca in the hospital and ever since then they became fond of one another. Not that either of them would ever admit it.

“Okay, Midget,” That made Beca’s eyes snap up and narrow slightly. “What did you do this time?”

“Why do you assume I’ve done something?” Beca retorted, arms automatically folding in front of her chest in a defensive gesture. “How do you know it wasn’t Chloe that did something, huh?”

“Well, firstly, Chloe is a God damn angel that literally shits unicorns and vomits rainbows.” Beca smirked at both her use of language and the image, knowing it was pretty much true. “Secondly, she’s my best friend, she would have called me the second something went down between you two as usual which leads me to believe that she doesn’t even know we’re here. And thirdly, you look like you’re ready to projectile vomit across this table and I would know. So since I didn’t bring an umbrella and this is my good shirt, why don’t you tell me why we’re really here?”

Beca actually looked ready to argue that last point but seemed to fold in on herself at the last second, resigning herself to the fact that Aubrey was not too far from the truth.

“Wow, Beca Mitchell backing down from a fight, this must be serious.” She laughed while taking a sip of her coffee but frowned immediately after when Beca, once again, refused to take the bait. “Okay, now you’re starting to scare me. What’s going on in that tiny little head of yours?”

“I just…” Beca paused and looked at her hands. She hadn’t seen her look this vulnerable since the hospital. “I… You know I love Chloe, right? Like, head over heels and all that shit?”

Aubrey’s eyes narrowed at that. Taking in her anxious shifting and tense posture she came to one awful conclusion. She leaned in and dropped her voice to nothing more than a feral growl. “If you’re here to tell me that you cheated on my best friend I swear to god Rebeca Mitchell they will not be able to identify your body.”

“What!” Beca’s eyes almost popped out of her head and she was left floundering, almost unable to form the proper words to express how shocked she was. “What, no! Aubrey, no I would never… Honestly, you know how I feel about cheating after my dad and… No, Aubrey no I swear I didn’t, and never will.”

“Good.” Seeing her signature smirk plastered across Aubrey’s face made Beca want to smack her own on the table because she knew that little rant was at worth at least one year of teasing. “So how about you grow some lady balls and tell me why you’re about ten seconds away from having a heart attack.”

Beca seemed to take a big calming breath, steeling herself before connecting steel blue to emerald green. Aubrey was a little surprised by the sheer determination she found in them, especially considering how the rest of the day had gone so far. Aubrey knew this look and refrained from commenting or even talking at all as it was Beca’s ‘give me a second before I start to spill my heart out’ look.

“I love Chloe. With my entire soul and being. She’s everything to me and, if I’m lucky, she feels the same about me. I don’t know what I did to deserve to have her in my life but I swear that as long as she’ll have me I will treat her like the fucking princess she is. No matter how oblivious I was to her feelings towards me for those first few years, since then I have done everything I possibly can to keep her happy, and to keep her safe and loved. She’s my world, Aubrey, and I want it to be that way for a long time.”

“Okay?” Aubrey responded slowly, not entirely sure what was happening. “And why are you telling me this? This seems like something you should probably be talking about with Chloe.”

“Well, I am.” Beca stuttered, determination seeping out of her voice and returning to sheepish. “I mean, I will. The reason I’m telling you this is because you are probably the most important person in Chloe’s life, apart from her parents, which I’ve already done. Anyway, I feel like since you were kids, you and Chloe have shared everything together. You’ve always been there for each other and, despite our initial… differences, I think you and I have gotten quite close as well.”

Aubrey couldn’t hold in her chuckle then, half at Beca admitting their shared fondness for each other and the other half because she had never seen Beca turn so red. A quick pointed glare from the blushing girl made Aubrey mime zipping her lips together and throwing away the key. While it earned her Beca’s trademark eye roll, the girl continued anyway.

“So, I think you know that I would do anything for Chloe, and that I’m good for her. We both know that Chloe has never been happier with anyone than she is with me.”

Aubrey thought back to all the other people she had seen Chloe date and couldn’t help but nod in agreement. As much as she loved the redhead, she had the worst taste in partners. From Dandruff Danielle all the way to fuckboy Tom, Chloe always ended up snuggled into her best friend’s side sobbing over a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Cookie Dough. But even when the girl’s boyfriend or girlfriend didn’t treat her like dirt, Chloe had never smiled at any of them the way she did at Beca. The full grin made her look like an idiot but she looked like an idiot that was head over heels in love.

“So what I really brought you here for, Aubrey, was to ask for your blessing to ask Chloe to marry me.”

“What the fuck!” The words had left her mouth before she even fully comprehended them. And on top of that, she had just screamed profanity in the middle of a crowded café. Most of the patrons were glaring at her but the staff behind the counter just smirked. The four girls were regulars here, coming to adore the elderly owners and vice versa. Ida and Joe were two of the sweetest people any of them had ever met but also knew how to properly tear someone a new one when needed. Beca’s words, not Aubrey’s. Like the time someone had yelled ‘dykes’ at the group. The man promptly found his lap covered in boiling hot coffee that had been ‘accidently’ spilled there before Ida dragged the man up by his ear and physically dragged him out of the shop. No one would say such cruel things about their girls. Still, despite their closeness they had not seen Aubrey as anything other than calm, cool and collected. Therefore Aubrey’s screech of indignation was nothing but hilarious to the couple, which they took to mimicking almost every time they saw the blonde afterwards.

Aubrey shrunk down in her chair at the glares and saw Beca do the same. However, the other girl seemed to have curled in on herself, horror and embarrassment etched on her face much to Aubrey’s chagrin.

“No,” Aubrey immediately set to rectify her mistake. “Beca, stop doing that, you look like a kicked puppy. C’mon, you just took me by surprise, that’s all. I’m sorry. It could have been worse, I could have puked all over you.”

Beca watched her with suspicious eyes for a moment before clearing her throat and sitting up. She reached into her leather jacket pocket to produce a non-descript, black ring box. She all but threw it on the table with a disgruntled mumble of ‘I’m not a puppy’.

Aubrey opened the ring box and her heart melted at the sight. A single silver band wrapped elegantly around a light blue gem stone, smaller diamonds also speckled across the top. It was beautiful, but more importantly it was something that Chloe would absolutely love. Chloe had never liked flashy or showy rings, especially ones with massive gemstones that projected too far from the ring itself, determining them to be too annoying as they easily get caught on things. However, it was the blue gemstone in the middle that caught Aubrey’s, and she was sure would catch Chloe’s, attention the most as she could almost guarantee it was the same shade as the redhead’s eyes.

“I um, designed it.” The brunette’s voice was small and awkward, obviously having deemed Aubrey’s silence to have gone on too long. “With the help of a professional, of course. I forgot what the stone was called, but I asked the lady to pick a gem that would match her eyes properly. I gave her a picture of Chloe but none of them seemed to work. They just didn’t look right, you know? The blue was too dark or too light. I’m pretty sure the lady was ready to wring my neck. She ended up bringing me into the back room where they kept them all along with about five security guards. It took me three hours and 47 minutes to pick that one and I’m just so happy I didn’t settle.”

“Me too.” Aubrey breathed out before sliding the ring onto her finger. “It fits, which means it’s going to fit hers, nice sizing Mitchell, or should I say Beale?”

“Well firstly,” Beca started, relaxing a little at Aubrey’s teasing tone. “You have yet to actually give me any sort of blessing to move in on your girl. Secondly, Beca Beale? What am I, a comic book character? Please. I’m going to stay Mitchell if I can, I don’t really like hyphen names because then it takes too long to fill out forms. It’s up to Chloe though really. If it means a lot to her I would consider it, and if she wants to take mine that’s rad too.”

“Rad? Comic books?” Aubrey’s eyebrow quirked at the mini rant. “I thought you were a ‘badass’ not a nerd.”

“Shut it, Posen.” Beca rolled her eyes before once again turning serious. “But, just, that blessing though…”

“Jesus Beca! Of course it’s a yes!” Aubrey pulled Beca up to wrap her arms around the brunette in what was probably only their fifth ever hug. “When are you going to propose? What’s the plan? This is really exciting, Becs. Hey, the Bellas could even perform at the wedding!”

Beca cringed at the thought of drunken Bellas trying to do a drunken rendition of Bruno Mars’ I Think I Want to Marry You.

“Um, Aubrey? Hate to burst your bubble but Chloe would actually have to say yes before there can be a wedding. As for the rest of it, this Friday I’m taking Chloe to that restaurant down the street that she loves. Afterwards I got the lighting guys at the studio to help me out with some mood lighting and Fairy lights so I’m going to dress up the roof. You know, make it look pretty. Sprinkle round some flowers and add in some music and hopefully she’ll be too distracted to see me have a panic attack before I ask her.”

“You have nothing to worry about.” Aubrey replied sincerely, knowing Beca was probably only half joking about the panic attack. You were right, Chloe feels the exact same way about you. Hell I should know, she never has been able to shut up about you, even before you were dating.”

“Really?” Despite her grumblings Beca really did look like a puppy most of the time and it was adorable.

“Yes, Beca.” She smiled at the brunette in an attempt to ease the girl’s worries. “No worries. Just show that girl how in love with her you are and you’ll have her forever, just like you’re planning.”

A genuine smile leaked onto Beca’s face for a second, leading Aubrey to believe this talk not only gave Beca the ‘blessing’ she needed but also a making her a little more confident that she wasn’t about to get her heart stomped on. She was really happy for her best friend, already picturing herself losing the hearing in one ear when the red head would no doubt squeal into the phone in all her excitement. It was going to be a good week for her friends. If she could keep the secret from her best friend that is. Even Aubrey could admit she wasn’t a good liar to those closest to her so perhaps she would have to back off a bit for the next two days if she really wanted to keep the surprise.

“Thanks, Aubrey.” Once again, Beca sounded genuinely sincere. This was probably the most heartfelt conversation the two had ever had alone, usually preferring to go to the others’ girlfriend for advice. “This actually means a lot to me and I’m glad that we have you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Beca.” Aubrey replied, even going so far as to rest her hand upon the brunettes. “Besides, who knows? Perhaps one day this could be me sitting here in front of you, asking for your blessing for Stacie.”

“You want to marry Stacie?” Beca seemed just as surprised as Aubrey was when Beca first asked for her blessing.

“Well, not right now.” It was Aubrey’s turn to flush in embarrassment and Beca’s trademark smirk had returned. “But, maybe sometime in the near future. I mean, we’ve been together for just about as long as you and Chloe and I love her. I’m not there right now but the longer we’re together the more and more I picture the rest of my life. And every time I think about marriage and kids and being old and grey, Stacie is there in every fantasy and every plan.”

“Okay, Soppy,” Beca interrupted. “How about you save some of the romantic feelings crap for the speech you’ll give me next time we talk about this, deal?”

Aubrey wasn’t used to seeing this side of Beca, but she felt that their relationship had grown over the past half an hour. While the conversation started about Chloe, it was the first time they had willingly shared their feelings without force or serious injury. And while this didn’t mean they would be having sleepovers and sharing secrets, Aubrey felt comfortable knowing that if she ever needed anything that she couldn’t talk to Stacie or Chloe about, Beca would be there for her. And she would be there for Beca too, of course.

Now all she had to do was secret keep for a few days and then she could go out celebrating with her two best friend and her long-time girlfriend. Then again, Beca was right in saying that Aubrey and Chloe shared everything. If Beca and Chloe weren’t planning on eloping anytime soon, they might even be able to make it a double wedding.

#Bechloe #Fanfiction #Staubrey #Please Say Yes #Eillibsniknej

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nyangibun · 7 years

Note

jon x sansa black pretty please! jon as assassin would be hot damn.

Mhmmm, Jon as an assassin, yes. But okay, this is probably not what you wanted because there’s a considerable lack of action. I still hope you like it! Tagging @manbunjon because you also asked for black.

There were two factions to the League: spies and assassins. As the bastard son of a Targaryen, Jon had been expected to follow the path of spies. They are born from wealth and privilege, with exceptional good looks and charm that cannot be taught. It was the logical next step. But Jon hadn’t always been a Targaryen. He’d been a Snow first; poor and forgotten by the system. He grew up with a chip on his shoulder and a knack for going unseen. When his mother died and Rhaegar Targaryen showed up in his life, Jon immediately gravitated towards the assassins. They’re fighters. Spies are liars. He may live the life of a criminal, but assassins had a code of honour that Jon could respect.

Unlike his half-siblings, who respect nothing, but themselves.

“Brother,” Aegon greets, once he rounds the corner and spots Jon. His smile is tight-lipped, verging on a sneer, but to anyone else, it would appear polite, maybe even fond. Jon knows better. After seven years with the League, he can read the Targaryens like a book.

Aegon comes to a stop in front of him. “You aren’t going to dinner dressed like that, are you?”

This is a conversation Jon’s had far too many times and one he is growing weary of. “I’m wearing what I always wear.” The League may see him as a Targaryen, but he’s a Snow through and through. They didn’t raise him. His mother did.

“Yes, unfortunately I am all too aware of how you dress,” Aegon continues, his facade faltering to give way to a distasteful frown. “But tonight is important for the League. You surely own something… better.”

Jon grits his teeth. Aegon knows the assassins live their life free from most material possessions. It’s in their culture to denounce them so that they won’t be swayed in the future by victims who try to bargain for their lives. He knows this, yet he still treats Jon as poor and uncultured. It shouldn’t bother him; he’s used to being the bastard, but it does.

“Leave Jon alone, Aegon,” Rhaenys interrupts just in time. Her long blonde hair is plaited down one side and she’s wearing a form-fitting red dress. “And go powder your nose.”

Aegon huffs, but walks away nonetheless. Rhaenys is next in line to lead the League after Rhaegar dies and anything she says is law. Thankfully, his half-sister is much more tolerable, and she dislikes Aegon nearly as much as Jon.

“My brother is a prick, isn’t he?” she sighs, before turning her gaze onto Jon. “But he is right, you have to change. I know father tailored you a tux.”

He doesn’t try to hide his groan. He hates dressing up.

Rhaenys looks at him with a bemused smirk. “You will grow to enjoy it eventually, Jon.”

“I won’t have to.”

“You will,” she says. “Do you think the League will go to Aegon if both father and I die?” She laughs loudly, the sound echoing in the narrow stone corridor. “Please; this place would be driven to ruins if it was up to that idiot. No, you will by my second-in-command once I take over.”

Jon blinks, unable to fully comprehend what she’s saying. It’s honestly the last thing he ever expected, which is why he blurts out the first thing to come to mind, “you don’t even like me.”

His half-sister laughs again. “I don’t like anyone, Jon. Don’t take it personally.” With those last words, she leaves him, disappearing down another bend in the corridor.

The League has become his home over the past seven years – from the dilapidated castle to the ragtag group of men and women he serves with. But he never thought he would one day have to lead this place. It had never been a dream of his. In fact, he doesn’t really know what he wants for the future. He doesn’t like to think about it often because it means facing who he is and what he’s done, and that person doesn’t deserve a future.

Jon rubs his eyes and returns back to where he came from to change into the tux. He hates it – hates the way it feels like he’s suffocating from the falseness of it all – but whatever tonight is, he has to attend and pretend he’s much more charming than he is. Even Tormund is more appealing than Jon, but in a way that you’d watch a bear dance in a circus – with abject horror and fascination.

The grand hall is decorated in golds and whites. The torches fastened to the stone walls flicker amber light across every corner of the room. Dinner is being served on a long table at the opposite end where Jon can see guests are already milling about chatting to one another. He’s been to his fair share of dinner parties over the years, but something about tonight feels more important. Aegon, for one, is actually smiling and joking with the people around him, and that’s always a sign of some impending doom.

“Jon!” his father booms, and suddenly several pairs of eyes are on him, as he begrudgingly makes his way over to Rhaegar and the group of people he’s with. “This is my son. He’s –”

“Lyanna’s boy,” someone finishes, a mixture of awe and bewilderment in his voice. Jon immediately glances towards the man, frowning as soon as he catches sight of dark hair and grey eyes. He knows those eyes. But how?

“You knew my mother?” Jon asks without much preamble, to Rhaegar’s irritation, but he’s an assassin, not a spy. Charm is not really in his arsenal.

“Once upon a time,” the man says sadly. “We grew up together. She was a dear friend to our family until –” He stops himself, glancing surreptitiously at Rhaegar, before smiling wide. “Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Eddard Stark, but you can call me Ned. This is my family.”

He gestures to the people beside him, and suddenly Jon is very aware that they’re all staring at him with a mixture of fascination and wariness in their eyes.

“This is my wife, Catelyn.” Wariness. “My sons, Robb, Rickon and Bran.” Fascination. “My youngest daughter, Arya.” Boredom. “And – oh, there she is. That’s my eldest daughter. Sansa, come. This is Rhaegar’s son, Jon.”

Her blue eyes catch his and she rakes her gaze down Jon’s body then back up again, making his neck and cheeks warm from the attention. Her lips are pursed in an impassive line, but Jon can read her too, and that was definitely appreciation. He wants to tell her, the feeling’s mutual, but all he can do is stare.

“Ah, the infamous Sansa,” his father says when Jon doesn’t speak. “I hear you are back now from Paris.”

She smiles; it’s soft and gentle, but something about it is off, and Jon doesn’t know why he thinks that, only that he’s positive he’s right.

“I am, Mr Targaryen,” she affirms. “Three years away from my family is three years too long.”

The younger sister, Arya, snorts, and one of the boys (he’s already forgotten which one’s which) elbows her none-too-subtly in the ribs.

“Please, you must call me Rhaegar!”

And so the night carries forward in this fashion. A lot of pleasantries and empty, meaningless words. Jon doesn’t get to speak to Sansa or the rest of the Starks, as he continues to be swept from one group to another by his father. He knows he doesn’t attend these functions often, so when he does, Rhaegar always takes the opportunity to show him off. It should offend him to be treated like a piece of property, but he knows it’s his father’s way of showing he’s proud of what Jon’s accomplished within the League. And it’s honestly so stupid to crave the approval of a man who had never been there for Jon during his childhood, but it’s hard not to let himself get swept up in it too.

He has finally managed to extricate himself from a very handsy older woman, and slips away from the crowd to find refuge in the corner by the refreshments. He’s nursing his whiskey when someone sidles up beside him.

“I hate these things.”

Jon doesn’t turn, so much as he glances through his peripheral at the copper-haired woman in that sinfully tight emerald green dress. Her hair is swept up in one of those intricate updos and her lips are painted hot red. She looks like the type of person who would fit seamlessly into these kind of parties.

“I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“I did once,” Sansa admits quietly, angling her body so she’s looking at him now. “Getting dressed up, being told you’re beautiful and dancing with handsome men? What girl wouldn’t like that?” She laughs a little sardonically. “I realised a while later that it’s all an illusion. False words for naive little girls.”

“I can’t imagine you naive either.”

“Then you’re pretty awful at reading people, Jon Targaryen,” she teases. “I thought spies were supposed to be observant.”

He snorts before he can stop himself. “It’s Jon Snow. And I’m not a spy.”

This surprises her and she furrows her brows as she studies him. “You’re not?”

“I’m not…” He should probably try to impress her considering who she is and the kind of family she comes from, but the thought of lying to her doesn’t sit right either. “I don’t really like this. Any of it. Being dressed up and talking to people I don’t know.”

Sansa giggles, and Jon’s heart stutters a little at the sound. “I couldn’t tell. So does that mean you’re…”

“An assassin,” he finishes for her, feeling his chest tighten in a different way. He normally never has to tell girls about what he does, but everyone in this room already knows, so there’s no point in lying about it.

“An assassin,” she repeats, taking her time to enunciate each syllable, as if she’s testing out the word on her tongue. “Does it not bother you to… you know?”

Jon looks away. He can’t answer her question while looking in her earnest blue eyes, and it pains him to be who he is and stand next to someone as beautiful and innocent as her. “Most of us do. But it’s a cross we all bear.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Because we have to,” he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “The law doesn’t actually protect people anymore. If it ever did.”

Sansa nods, and then much to his own surprise, she places a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a good man, Jon.”

He wills his breathing to calm, as he says, “you don’t even know me.”

“No, but I know people,” she tells him. “I know a good man from a bad man, and you’re good.”

It’s hard for him to fully comprehend her words – harder even to really take her in – but he tries to. He so desperately wants to. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she says, giggling again when he takes her hand and leads her swiftly out of the grand hall.

They race down the empty corridors, up the spiral staircase and stumble out, laughing, onto the roof. The air is frigid in spite of it being mid April, but the days are growing longer and at eight o’clock, the sky is dusky, streaks of pink and purple light disappearing into an endless canvas of navy. It’s beautiful.

“Next time, you’re carrying me,” Sansa huffs from beside him, her fingers intertwined through his, but as he glances back, she’s smiling bright and wide, so different from the way she smiled at his father. This one is genuine; it’s real, and it takes his breath away that it’s because of him.

“Am I now?” he says, grinning stupidly back at her.

“Yes! You try running in heels, Jon Snow!” Sansa tries to look indignant, but when he tugs her closer, the smile returns.

“You’re beautiful,” Jon tells her without thinking. Once the words leave his mouth, he flushes. “I know you don’t place a lot of trust in those words anymore, but… God, you’re bloody beautiful, Sansa.”

To his delight, she actually blushes and ducks her head. She’s adorable too, and that’s a dangerous combination.

“Do you want to dance?” she asks instead, and he has to laugh this time, because they’re standing on a rooftop, freezing, alone and without music, but he has never wanted to dance with anyone more in his life.

He wraps both arms around her waist. “I’d love to.”

As soon as they start moving, Sansa’s head drops to his shoulder, fitting perfectly into the space between his neck and shoulder. He can feel her breath tickling his skin, and for once, Jon is happy to just be.

They stay like that for a few minutes, each lost to their own thoughts, as they watch the sky slowly submerge them into darkness. But then Sansa shivers in his arms and he has to pull back to look at her face. “We should go inside.” She shakes her head. “I don’t want you to get pneumonia.”

Sansa rolls her eyes. “I’m not going to get pneumonia.”

“Fine then I don’t want you to get sick,” he says, matching her exasperated tone.

“Jon, just shut up and kiss me.”

He freezes for a split second, watching as she raises a brow challengingly, before he comes back to himself and chuckles. When he finally kisses her, she responds instantly, tightening her arms around his neck as her fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. He shivers from her touch and that makes Sansa smile against his lips. After they pull apart, they’re both breathing heavily and leaning into one another.

“If I get pneumonia because of this, it’ll be worth it.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Sansa laughs.

He is and she’s pretty much the reason why.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jon snow #sansa stark #game of thrones #jonsa fic #colour prompts #my fics #long post

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tenaciouswaitres-blog · 7 years

Text

It’s those damn Pennslyvania females....

I am a hostess. As a hostess, I often work side-by-side with a male co-worker for hours at a time. These boys and I, we have a bit of a problem. They just don’t seem to understand I do not like being talked over. I don’t like being contradicted in front of customers, I do not like being cut off. However, for some reason this seems to be a daily challenge for these brew boys.

Customer: Can we have a table outside? Me: We are actually on a waitlist right now, but if you give me- Brew Boy: There’s outdoor seating upstairs! The left side is open seating and the right side is dining. You guys can just go ahead and check it out! Customer: Okay, thanks!

2 minutes later

Me: I don’t like it when boys talk over me. Brew Boy: What? (brow furrows) Oh. (comprehending) Okay. (thoughts forming)

3 minutes later

Brew Boy: It’s cause you’re so quiet. Customers can’t hear you. I’m louder. (Waves arms in a forward motion) You need to PROJECT your VOICE. (continues to provide interpretive hand gestures) I can be chipper for the both of us today. I’m not hungover so I feel great, usually I’m super hungover you know? Me: I’m not quiet, my voice is just softer than yours. And you talk over me when I try to answer questions. It’s not a matter of pitch, you cut me off regardless. As a ~FeMaLe~, boys often interject while I’m speaking without even noticing. Brew Boy, (right away): No thats not it. I’ve noticed you’re quiet. Seriously. Me: Honestly what does that even have to do with it please just stop interrupting me when- Brew Boy: Hey ya folks! How are we today? (turns toward couple in the corner) Are we thinking beer, food, or both? (My objection evidently was unable to sustain Brew Boy’s interest) I am accustomed to having these conversations. I’m patient with each and every brew boy, though constantly struggling not to demonize them all. I want to unleash one of the numerous diatribes rolling through my mind, berating their blissful ignorance and not giving a damn about whatever weak retort they throw back at me.

I am Hillary Clinton, debating President Trump. I do not throw a tantrum when men continue to do what I’ve asked them not to do dozens more times. Clinton showed great discipline and grace while debating President Trump, regardless of how many times he demanded to be heard over her, regardless of the offensive side-comments he made during one of his on-air tantrums. President Trump was forced to allow a woman to speak at length and he was not to interrupt. This was a completely foreign concept to him. To Clinton, however, the events of the debate was nothing new. She has spent her whole career working ten times harder to ensure her voice is heard over the steady roar of entitled, misogynistic, male politicians. Clinton was not rattled.

I am not graceful and have little discipline to speak of, but I often think of those debates and do my best to be steady and calm. To be fair, the brew boys are largely not comparable to President Trump in manner or intellect. That being said, my frustration does not waver.

I just don’t understand why these co-workers refuse to even consider my words. My projected self, as a woman, is clearly important to me. My interest in being treated no different from a man should not be considered such a grievance in the minds of these boys. Why they can’t just accept what I’m saying without attempting to find some other reason for their temperament?

The day got even more fun.

Foreign Tourist Husband: Is the pizza thin-crust or thick-crust? Me: It’s thin-crust, and it’s very good! Foreign Tourist Wife: Okay, very nice, we don’t like deep-dish. (foreign couple slowly turns from the host stand and they begin to walk away) Brew Boy: ACTUALLY (clearly unable to contain himself any longer) I would NOT say the pizza is thin-crust. (turns his head towards me in acknowledgment, chuckles at my fatal error and then addresses the couple) But it’s not deep-dish either. Its DEFINITELY between thin-crust and thick-crust. Like, medium-crust, you know? (foreign couple look back and forth between us with uncertainty, Brew Boy continues to grin at them) Me:

Brew Boy: (grin starts to fade as my waves of rage wash over him) Oh, sorry, it’s just I didn’t want them to- Me: I’m from Chicago. I know my fucking deep-dish. Our *clap* pizza *clap* is *clap* fucking *clap* thin *clap* crust. Brew Boy: (still nervous) Ha ha ha ha ha! (grins again and addresses the frozen internationals) I guess it depends where you’re from! Ha ha, ha! (foreign couple laugh along, clearly lost in translation, and make a break for the front door)

At this point I curl myself over the sanitation bucket and methodically start to ring out a rag in the dirty water, silently calling upon whatever spare divinity is available to give me enough strength to resist popping the lid off this kid, whom, by the way, is still grinning.

Our next exchange was what was truly BASS ACKWARDS.

Brew Boy: Sorry. I’m sorry, okay? It’s just I didn’t want them to think they were having super thin-crust pizza, you know, cause it’s not super thin- crust. But I didn’t mean to interrupt you again. It’s mostly where I’m from, like my family and friends always yell and talk over each other at home. It’s where I’m from, it’s where I grew up. We always talk over each other. Me: Okay. Well, that’s interesting. I guess.

At this point I’m letting it go though I still disagree. He was taking responsibility in a way by acknowledging he was behaving in a way that was untoward. Brew Boy was not blaming me for these exchanges or attempting to invalidate my feelings. Perhaps I shouldn’t have settled, but that’s just the way it goes for me sometimes. But then this happened.

1 minute later

Brew Boy: Yeah. (still talking, folding menus mechanically) Yeah, so, all the girls I grew up with yell all the time. Even when they’re not mad. I have to yell and cut them off sometimes, you know? They are really insanely loud man. Me: (attempting to take a beat, barely) OH REALLY? It’s those CRAZY Pennsylvania girls, huh? Gotta keep them in line? Exactly what suburb are you from again?

Whatever god I prayed to decided to TEST me today instead. Dance monkey, dance!

Apparently, the town Brew Boy is from is populated with women who speak loudly, which of course, prompted him to correct the situation by ensuring he was always the one who was dominating the conversation in all his exchanges. It is because of those damn Pennsylvania females, that’s why he demeans me in my place of work.

Brew Boy has a problem with me "talking too softly” and has a problem with girls from his childhood “yelling”. This kid seems difficult to please when it comes to the pitch of the female voices around him. Perhaps he should determine the exact frequency he deems appropriate for women. Not too soft, not too loud. Talk a little, not a lot. This dude is the Goldilocks from my own personal hell. May he someday find the female frequency he finds to be just right.

This may seem like one of those famous PMS-induced fits people assume passionate women like me often suffer from. Or perhaps I can once again be accused of overreacting, as women supposedly often do.

Whether I shout or whisper, my words are not taken as law. My male co-workers speak, and their words are untouchable. Their statements are protected and regarded as concrete. Any thoughts or reactions I have are up for debate and tossed aside at will. If my male co-workers lexicon is concrete, the female lexicon can be reduced to hypothetical play-doh, readily passed around, torn apart, tossed aside. Most importantly, it is always regarded as malleable.

I do not have an influence. I would argue it is because I am female. That is why my co-host made me especially angry today. I have zero influence on what is going on around me, and women categorically experience the same phenomena throughout their lives. If women were able to shape the person he was growing up, then convincing him to take my wishes as a woman seriously probably wouldn’t feel like pulling teeth from a seizing toddler.

If women had such an influence, we would get birth control universally accessible and affordable! Hell, let’s get our birth control delivered to our door! For free! Instead, we have we have white male politicians actively blocking any steps taken to improve women’s healthcare. Viagra can be delivered straight to your doorstep, by the way.

There are so many forces at work that keep sexism alive, and it would be ridiculous to claim just one person or aspect of the machine is at fault for the society in which we live. There are constructs innate in all communities that help keep patriarchal values alive. I would love to do whatever possible to work away at these constructs and start to build a country that offers equal rights not just in name, but in practice.

The arrogance of what I see daily is something I don’t know how to address. Birth control remains relatively unaccessible. Yet the law allows for men to get their viagra hand-delivered to their doorsteps. This lawful contradiction, along with Brew Boy’s refusal to admit women experience sexism in the workplace, boils down to a matter of ego. And it drives me mad.

Countless incidents later, my shift was almost over. The familiar feeling of being defeated by my circumstances was beginning to wash over me. A man came over to the host stand and asked a simple question about seating. I answered his question. He looked at me then turned to Brew Boy, inverting my answer back to him. Brew Boy confirmed my answer. The man walked away. Brew Boy then turns to me and says “Hey. Maybe you’re right.” I nodded.

The man had needed a male confirmation to be convinced my feedback was correct. The weird part was I hadn’t even noticed. That is what scares me most. How much of my life am I spending in my own innate ignorance? Perhaps time will tell. In the meantime, if the blame is to be placed on anyone, the obvious answer would be those damn Pennsylvania females.

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ahkmenrahdaley · 7 years

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Kylo's literally the type of person to go on with his business even when he's about to go into labor so like, Hux and Kylo in a meeting and they're argueing much to the frustration of everyone else. And finally fed up Kylo gets up to leave, but then there's this really loud splash and everyone is frozen silence and Hux looks over in horror at Kylo because really how could he be so stupid. He's honestly so done he's been yelling at him for days to just sit down he knew this would happen my gosh

Second part of Hux/Kylo in a meeting: So Hux is yelling more now demanding Kylo take off his mask while Kylo fights him for it till he finally gives in and Hux softens because underneath Kylo is clearly in pain, panting and sweating. Hux goes to comfort Kylo and they have a small moment till Hux realizes that everyone is still in the room just enjoying this whole thing play out and he just wants this to end.

Last part with the meeting: Hux barks at all of them to get out and get the medic but Kylo informs him theres no time he waited to long and ultamitely, Phasma, Mitaka, and a few officers and storm troopers end up delivering this child.

They hadn’t stopped arguingsince they’d woken up. The emperor and his consort were supposedly the Galaxy’smost influential couple. Admired and loved by all, they were to lead an exampleto those who worked beneath them. However, recently things had becomeestranged. When the Emperor announced to his subjects that he would soon havehis first heir by his personal hound, many didn’t believe it to be possible -Kylo hadn’t portrayed any symptoms of an ongoing pregnancy, neither did he look the part, yet, only a few weeksafter it was announced, that all changed.

Kylo became angrier than usual(if at all possible), he snapped at everyone including his poor husband whoseemed to get the more violent end of his hormones. He was frustrated, annoyedwith each tiny problem that was presented before him and desperate to have thischild. But along with anger and anxiety came determination. He was eager toprove that he was more than the Emperor’s broodmare but a Queen, a consort, aknight; the man who would give his husband the most powerful children that hedesired. And that’s how they ended up as they were.

Kylo was nine months pregnant,his due date was less than a day away and yet he sat beside Hux in a seat thatwas crafted for a much …slimmer Queen. He looked bored, felt it too. Theongoing diplomatic missions reminded him of his childhood abandonment and theydispleased him greatly. It was fine until Hux wouldn’t pay attention to him. Hewas too busy discussing the military operations with Phasma, who was now theGeneral of his army. Mitaka was there too, though this time as an ambassadorfor their Empire, reporting about the abilities of the Resistance, Kyloremembered his face for their brief encounters. He still looked as scared as hedid the first time they met.

Boredom allowed Kylo to creategames in his head. First he thought about what his and Hux’s child would looklike. They’d have to be force sensitive, as the great-grandchild of Darth Vaderthat was to be expected, another trait to be expected was confidence. Thischild would be an heir to the throne, future ruler of the whole Galaxy. They’dat least have to be capable of ruling the Galaxy as brilliantly as their father….They…hedidn’t like referring to their child in such a neutral term. So the mostobvious question prevailed: would it be a girl or boy? Kylo didn’t mind, helonged for either, though Hux wanted a boy for some weird reason. And wouldthey have ginger hair or brown? Brown eyes or blue? If one thing was evidentfrom looking at the parents, the child was bound to have pale skin. They willlook like they’re from Arkanis, Kylo decided confidently even though he’d neveractually been there.

Deciding on what their child wouldlook like he turned to husband.

“Girl or boy?” he asked quietlyas Phasma talked about their ability to press forward against the Resistance.They’d heard it but a thousand times before and honestly Kylo wanted nothingmore than for her to shut up.

“What - Kylo, we’re in themiddle of something here -,” he paused when Kylo looked at him, looking sorryunderneath the mask. The silence was enough to kill Hux’s sense of pride. “Fine,”he sighed, “A boy. Like I’ve told you numerous times before.”

Kylo hummed. “I think it couldbe a girl.”

Hux looked away from him again,perplexity crossing his face when he realised the conversation had suddenlychanged. That was a game in itself, actually two games in one - a) how confusedand flustered could he make Hux and b)how long would it take for people to notice he wasn’t listening?

The emperor suddenly realisedwhat he was doing. “Kylo,” he drawled. “Stop your silly games.”

“I wouldn’t have to do thesesilly games if you talked to me.”

“Talk to you?” he asked with alaugh. “Kylo, we have business to do, a galaxy to maintain. This is no time forcasual chat, my love.”

“Don’t ‘my love’ me,” Kylogrowled. “The Galaxy isn’t going fall to shambles just because you ignored yourmeeting for two minutes. It’s good to talk, we could be like a normal couple.”

“We are a normal couple.”

It took them a minute to figureout that everyone had gone silent because of them. Hux immediately straightenedup and cleared his throat, his cheeks started flushing red with embarrassment. “W-well,as you were saying, General,” he said shakily and Phasma began talking again.

There were a few more fightsduring the meeting. Kylo began getting annoyed when Hux began to ignore him andthat’s when the trouble started. They were just bickering but practicallyscreaming at each other, forcing Hux to stop himself from completely lashingout in front of the others. Everyone else sat there, awkwardly fiddling aroundwith their thumbs or the first thing their hands could reach as the couplebarked insults at each other.

“I bet you even have amistress!” Kylo said at one stage, completely out of the blue. “You might aswell have her pregnant too, just like daddy.”

Hux rolled his eyes thougheveryone could see that the mention of Brendol and his affair had him in afrenzy. “ Well, at least my father died without my contribution. Not all of us arethat psychotic!”

Kylo gasped, though through themask it sound weird, more like he’d been physically hurt than insulted. He gotup from his seat, his fist balled at his sides as he walked toward the door.

“I’m so finished with you andyour -“ there was a splashing sound. Everyone went silent, all suddenly lookingup at Kylo who didn’t even know how to react.

“-Shit” Hux finished for him.

He had to force him to sit downsince Kylo was undeniably stubborn. He kept lying over and over again, sayingthat he’d be able to make it to the medcentre. It was obvious that he wasn’tgoing too, since Hux had been there at the birth of a cousin and knew how itall planned out. He just wished Kylo hadn’t been so stupid.

“Kylo, honey, you have to takeoff the mask,” Hux said allowing him to sit down on his throne.

Kylo shook his head, nearlyready to die of the embarrassment.

“Kylo, please, you need to take it off,” he pressured this time andsuddenly Kylo felt calmer.

When the mask came off Kylobreathed a large sigh of relief. His face was scrunched up in pain, gettingworse only as he went through the contractions. And he could only be describedas being the colour of snow - the shock and pain combined together and rid ofany colour on his face. He looked desperate. Panting and urging Hux to get himhelp.

“Hey, hey,” Hux said softly,allowing Kylo to rest his head on his chest. “It’s going to be alright, okay?You have to trust me. Give me your hand,” he held it out and Hux took it, “Now,whenever you feel like you have to just press down on it just do, you got that?”Kylo nodded and Hux kissed the top of his head. “Good, you’re doing greatalready. I love you, I love you so much, you understand that?”

“Y-yeah,” Kylo cried.

Everyone else was looking atHux in shock, unable to comprehend how the bloodthirsty could manage to be so ….nice.A few of the officers looked quite infatuated, as if they were watching thescene from a romantic holo. Hux was only getting more impatient, though.

“Stop standing around and helpme!” he ordered.

It seemed to be a lot shorterthan Hux remembered - suddenly, after about an hour or so of constant screamingand agony, the cries of a child could be heard echoing throughout the throneroom. Kylo’s chest heaved heavily before he sighed in relief at the sound oftheir baby crying. It was alive, at least, that’s what he had to thank themaker for.

“See? Wasn’t too bad now, wasit?” Hux said playfully and Kylo hit him with all the energy he had left.

“A girl, sir,” one of theofficers said gently as he hand the squealing child to her father.

Kylo looked sick. “I-I’m sorry,Hux - we can….we can try again for a boy. I should’ve been able to -“

“No, no, Kylo, look,” Hux said,showing Kylo the child beneath the blankets. “She’s perfect. Our littleprincess, see.”

“You’re not mad?” Kylo asked,sounding like a guilty child.

Hux shook his head. “Kylo, you’vegiven us a child,” he said, “A beautiful daughter. The future Queen of theGalaxy. Why would I be mad?”

Kylo looked proud of himselfthen, looking at the small child who had begun to babble softly instead of cry.She was so tiny compared to him, in contrast to the throne she was evensmaller.

“One day,” he said to her, “One day this willall be yours.”

#cheesy ending is cheesy #i don't know what au this is #kylux #pregnant kylo #emperor hux #kylo ren #queen kylo ren #au tag: the emperor and his queen #i suppose #headcanon time #tw: birth

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confrontingdisaster · 7 years

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I think....too much

Always. My brain is always going, constantly. Sometimes just stupid shit, like I'll get totally lost in my head thinking about the life of the annoying moth that won't go away, but a lot of the time it's heavy shit, and it's crazy the number of thoughts than go through someone's head. I've been mentally drained, pretty screwed up, this year especially. This year was supposed to be a good one, I was determined to turn over a new leaf this year and change things. Then February hit. My son was born in February, his birthday was the only good part of that month. My grandmother passed away just days before his third birthday. Two days after she passed, our good friend Matt committed suicide. Days. I mean a matter of days. How does one process that, mentally, emotionally? Because it's been five months ,and some days I start thinking and just feel completely deflated. Sometimes it takes me hours to get over it, sometimes days. My grams passing was easier to deal with, she was ripe with age and honestly I'm amazed she pulled through as long as she did. But Matt was different. How do you wake up one day and have your friend be gone? How do you process the act of suicide? We lived LITERALLY up one flight of stairs. One flight. It's nights like last night that make us miss him so much more. A friend came home yesterday after being gone a year. He too was old old friends with Matt like Tony had been. I don't know how many times I heard their drunken hoots and hollars from our porch at night, I never thought I'd miss their annoying tendencies. He came over yesterday and spent literally all night hanging out with Tony, but the third man was missing. It was like good old times, until I thought about how we were missing him. Me and Sam get a chance to talk about him once in a while, and that's nice because I've maybe spoken out loud about how I feel about it a handful of times. Tony didn't speak for three whole days after it happened, it's never been something he openly conversates about. We had one good talk about it, and then he was closed again. Sams boyfriend barely knew Matt and while I give him credit for trying to be there for all of us, I appreciate how much he tried even though it was clear how uncomfortable he was. She doesn't really get to talk about it either. We were talking about him a few days ago, it's still raw, still makes your voice catch in your throat when you have to correct yourself to using past tense. I still see cars that look like his to this day and his face is the first thing to pop into my head, followed by gut wrenching disappointment when I realize it's not. We see his old roommate around town, driving the same beat up car he used to before he moved out. Tony still hasn't gotten up the courage to talk to him, they just wave or nod at each other, I don't think either of them want to discuss it. Men. Talking about things is so much better, why don't they ever get that? Tony has severe anxiety accompanied by bipolar. He will go into manic episodes and he talks about how much easier it would be to just kill himself. How it's the best way to end the endless thoughts that run through his head (seriously it must be exhausting to be him, I try my best to soothe his anxiety because I see how bad it gets.) but when he says shit like that it terrifies me because I know he would do it, if it wasn't for Carson, he would do it. He's tried medications, they don't work or they turn him into a zombie which I'm sorry isn't a way for a person to live and I don't blame him for refusing to take those. I don't want him to, he isn't him when he's drooling all over himself unable to comprehend the world around him. It's basically just a sedative, it's not a help for anxiety. Our life kinda fell apart after Matt. Tony's anxiety had already been at a peak and that didn't help. For a solid month or two anything and everything would set it off. Which would bring on the mood swings which brought on the suicidal thoughts which brought on the panic attacks and it's a lot to deal with. I stopped working for our neighbor, I couldn't do 16 hour shifts for 14 days in a row. Have you ever only been given two days off a month? Do you know how shitty that is? I couldn't do it anymore. The money was great but the ill effects on my family were not worth it anymore. Then she blocked me on Facebook after I stopped working for her. I laughed. I literally laughed. I'm sorry but I'll choose my child and my family over work any day. Sure it put a huge financial strain on us at the time, but it was worth it. Tony's anxiety has made leaps and bounds lately, since I stopped working all the time things have been much better and it is back to barely effecting him again. I'm glad that Isaac is back around because it'll be good for Tony to have someone. Carleton, sams boyfriend, is good friends with tony but honestly her and him aren't the greatest of friends. They'll completely ignore us, or ditch plans without telling us, they just won't show up. And Tony's not that close with Carleton, not like Isaac and I think it'll be good for him to have a friend again to vent to, like Matt used to be. Him Isaac and Matt grew up together. I convinced tony to go to a party with Sam and Carleton and sams parents a few weeks ago. We couldn't get a sitter but I told him to go because he needed a night out. It's been over two years since someone has watched Carson over night for us. We haven't had a night out in far too long but my mental state is better than his, he needed a night to let go and de-stress. Funny story. It was a big annual party they go to for the Fourth of July weekend so I dropped tony off and he was going to ride back with Sam and Carleton in the morning. They had little to no service out there (east bumfuck field party) so I was getting a bit worried when Sunday evening rolled around. I got a message that night from Sam and there was a flash flood because of the rain and they got flooded in the field. Sams car almost went into the river, one persons car did. Most of the people ditched everyone there, the last truck to leave almost didn't make it out of the water. So my idea of him having a fun night out turned into some shit but he did have a good time and definitely not boring and I could see the difference in his attitude once they finally got out Monday afternoon. I don't need a night out, I need a day adventure. It's been literally months and months since I touched my camera. Almost a year now. I'm jonesing. Working all the time killed that for me. I desperately need to get out and explore and photograph, it's my therapy. I battle between bringing Sam or Kayla, tonys sister. Love them both but could kill them both. I go through phases with Sam, currently I'm in the phase where when I hear her voice I want to choke her. She came over yesterday with Carleton and I was laying down so when she came in the house to find me I just pretended to be asleep. It worked. I don't even feel bad about it. Sorry not sorry. All she talks about is how her parents are helping with this or paying for this or getting her that and it's like bitch shut the fuck up. I don't ask my parents for shit, I have respect. My dad would give me whatever he could if I asked, but I don't. I feel horrible asking to borrow a few bucks until payday sometimes and often I'll go do yard work or WORK for it somehow, it's how I am. And she's not and sometimes I brush it off but lately I can't. We are struggling right now, not badly but things aren't as Willy nilly as they were when I was working for Jamie. So hearing about her handouts really gets to me but it's whatever, be who you're gonna be. Kaylas annoying and two faced sometimes. She's 19 and her mom still won't let her hang out with anyone alone. I'm like her only friend, the only way she gets out of the house. So I feel bad but at the same time she drives me insane sometimes. I really just don't think I have enough patience for friends, or maybe I'm just not supposed to have any. I can be pretty shitty as a friend. I'll go days without writing or talking to them. Usually because I get busy and forget, then I'm too afraid to start up conversation again because I feel like an asshole. I am the master of avoiding confrontation because it terrifies me. I'm so submissive and laid back, I prefer to sweep under the rug instead of confront because confrontation is nerve racking and scary and I'll admit I'm a fucking pussy okay? It's easier to not have to worry but it gets lonely trust me and I have a lot of regrets. A lot of things and people I've let go because of my fear of confrontation. There's nothing like having a shitty ass day and looking around at the amount of nobody you have to vent to. A lot of people don't understand that I have down days, depressive episode days, where I don't feel like talking and I won't, or I'll ignore because I literally just can't muster up the energy to pretend I'm okay enough to conversate. I don't think I've ever really even told anyone about my depression battles. Literally. It's cool guys, I got it on my own. Always have. It gets lonely on the bottom. It gets to me mentally sometimes. I always get over it though. I spend most of my time with my three year old who refuses to talk most of the time. Literally refuses. He can talk, he will once in a while, but usually he refuses. If I try to make him say something before I give him something he wants, “Carson, say you want the light turned on” for example, which he can say, has said, and does say SOMETIMES. But usually he will literally look at me and just say “no, bye” and walk away instead of just saying he wants something. He talks more around other kids, or frankly when we are around other people that aren't me or tony, but he rarely gets the chance to play with other kids, just sams niece and nephew once in a great while. No is his favorite word. I hate it. He will sit and count things by himself but if I try to help or count with him, he will stop and leave, or throw the objects he's counting. He wants to do EVERYTHING by himself. His way or no way. Stubborn to no end. He acts just like my nephew did when he was a toddler. I never found the aggravation in my nephews antics, but now that it's my child, I see why my sister used to walk around her house singing “"slowly going crazy”. The dog helps him talk more at home. He will tell her no, or to go away, or go get something. He tries to say her name which is crazy funny because her name is Willow. Ever heard a toddler attempt to pronounce Willow? It's cute and hilarious. They have a mutual understanding that Carson doesn't like to be licked. Unless his hands are dirty or sticky, then he holds them out and chases her around until she licks them clean. It's adorable. Spend most of your days with a toddler who would rather throw themselves on the floor in a fit instead of just saying “please” and tell me how long your sanity lasts because I feel like I deserve an award for that shit sometimes. You'd be amazed how many times I spent crying at the same time he is throwing a fit because I literally can't take it sometimes. Sometimes you just gotta cry it out. It helps. Me at least. This started as a post about thinking to much, and I think I've covered about a million topics. Word vomit. I don't vent to people so my tumblr will do. It's surprising how much better it feels after processing through all of it and writing it all down. I've always been a writer. I can express myself in written word instead of spoken. Again the whole confrontation thing. I could keep going, about a lot of things, but I'm almost just all thought out. I think now it's just time to curl up on the couch and mindlessly play candy crush and watch some tv. Relax my brain and veg out. It's been real. I'm sure I'll be back to vent again sometime. Always am. 🤷🏼‍♀️

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