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letters-from-eros · 4 years

Note

I'm glad you're back from your hiatus 😊 can I request an imagine where the female reader is secretly dating Bakugou, and one day while changing, the girls see a hickey on the reader's neck. At the same time, the guys see Bakugou's back covered in scratches. The class puts the pieces together and sets up a plan to catch them in the act. Sorry if it's too detailed or long though 🥺 your blog is awesome!

A/N: I'm glad to be back, babes! This is a really cool request and there's no such thing as an overly detailed request. I hope you enjoy it.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Fem!Reader

Form: One-Shot.

Warnings: Implied sex, harsh language (because its Bakugo we're dealing with here)

Left a Mark.

Katsuki is nothing short of a horny teenager when it came down to it. That was something you had to realize and understand. It was far from the first time he had left his mark on you, and it was safe to say it wouldn't be his last.

He was overall neutral to the idea of your relationship being secret, he was more happy to have you by his side then anything. People knowing that fact was an afterthought. But... The circumstances would become long forgotten when things would get hot and heavy between you two.

It was far from the first time you had to scold him for leaving a hickey on you, and it was safe to say it wouldn't be your last.

"Y/N!" Uraraka called out, her usual innocent tone unwavering.

"Hm?" You quickly looked at the girl who shouted your name, a small smile playing on your face. Everytime you look at her you get a reminder of Katsuki's crude nickname for her, 'Round-Face.' Crude, but certainly fitting.

"You have a hickey!" The smile quickly dropped and your cheeks warmed up like the sun was shining directly at them. It was hard to ignore the sudden feeling of so many eyes on you...

"Don't worry about it," You quickly dismissed, your eyes glued to the inside of your locker as you slipped on the rest of your gym uniform.

"I bet it was Shouto! I see the way you always look at him!" Mina teased and suddenly, the entire locker room erupted with your classmate's own assumptions on who had left the hickey on you....

"Yeah!! Get some, Baku-Bro!" Kirishima yelled out, in the locker room adjacent to the girls'. His voice echoed off the walls, only adding to the annoyance Katsuki got from him.

"Don't call me that, shitty hair!" Bakugo was quick to insult and refuse the "endearing" nickname his friend had to give before actually picking up on what he had to say.

The sudden and hard slap on his back was enough to get his attention and the overall ache it left was enough to get him to remember just what is on his back.

"Damn! The woman has a pair of claws on her! Who the lady?" Denki questioned with a borderline proud look on his face. He must be oblivious that he's truly rolling the dice with his life treating Bakugo this way.

"None of your damn business!!" Bakugo yelled, the majority of the males in the room were quick to mind their own business, but one more comment escaped someone's lips..

"Uraraka's nails have been getting kind of long, lately.."

Of course, the one and only Minoru Mineta would be stupid enough enough to make another comment while Bakugo was teeming with pure anger.

The girls and boys of 1A had exited the locker rooms practically at the same time, all choosing to selectively ignore the burning smell wafting off of Mineta and a small explosion sized hole in his uniform. They all stood in a scrambled bunch, all chatting amongst themselves. Honestly, it was no surprise that their teacher would be late to the class...

You stood beside Katsuki because its what felt natural. What neither of you knew is that you both were too embarrassed to even look at each other in the moment. Even after all the merciless teasing had ceased, the feeling of overall humility was yet so subside.

A thick wave of awkwardness surrounds you both, seemingly muting the gossiping whispers that actually centered around yourself and your hotheaded boyfriend..

"You guys won't believe it!" Mina excitedly whisper-yelled to the tightknit group of friends whom dubbed themselves the baku-squad. "Y/n had a hickey on her shoulder!"

"No way! Bakugo had scratch marks on his back right now," Denki responded, just as eager as Mina.

There was about three whole minutes of talking about who could've been the one who left the scratches and hickeys amongst the single-braincelled group of friends before the one voice of reason amongst the group spoke up.

"Guys, they left the marks of each other.." Sero finally explained, a disappointed tone hung from his words, he was truly waiting for when they would figure it out themselves but... Alas, it seemed as if he was the only one with a single problem solving cell is his body.

"Ohhhhhhh...." The three finally connected the dots before shifting their gaze to the pair standing next to each other. Did they always stand that close together, was a mutual thought between the group (and the answer was yes)

"Well are you sure its them? I had ending up betting on the hickey being from Shouto.." Mina mumbled, slightly upset. She wasn't against the idea of her two friends dating, more the fact that she lost a bet and had to treat a lot of people to food if Sero was right.

"Pretty sure," Sero exaggerated his words to create a sarcastic tone, but that only sounded like uncertainty to his friends.

"Well I actually bet on it being Y/n," Kirishima announced proudly. Through his slight bouts idiocracy at times, he knew his best friend well. "How are we gonna prove that its them, though?"

The question lead everyone to a similar solution.... Catch them in the act, of course. This group of kids were far from stealthy, but they were determined to make things work.

"Do you want to ditch these losers and head to my room?" Bakugo whispered into your ear, the warm breath paired with his low tone never failing to sense a shiver down your spine.

"Don't call our friends losers!" You whisper yelled, glancing at your closest friends who dotted across the dorm's kitchen. They were arguing over what food to eat when they studied, unknowing to the fact that yourself and Bakugo had already went over this subject together as a form of a date.

He rolled his eyes and straightened his posture from leaning down to your ear taking a half step away from you, assuming the reprimanding words overall meant a no.

"Hot chips are overrated!!" Denki yelled and you're first instinct was to glance towards your boyfriend, who was... Passionate about his hot food, to say the least.

"Fuck this!! You guys can fucking study on your own!" Katsuki already didn't want to be there, then Kaminari went and said some dumb shit.

But that wasn't the only fuel to his anger and when you get to know the hot headed boy, you can tell if what he says he's angry about is what he's angry about. Having been his partner for as long as you have, you could tell he wasn't storming away solely because Kami said he didn't like hot chips.

He was frustrated, so, so frustrated and sick of this "secret relationship."

He was thinking about his locker accident, way more than one would think he should be doing. Why couldn't he just answer the barrage of questions with a proud smirk? Were you not proud of him? Ashamed, even? Insecurity hit him like a fucking truck, and he couldn't even ask for a quick hug and words of comfort because.. Other people were around? It sounded stupid when really thought out, and he wish he did when you first asked for the relationship under wraps.

He took a sharp turn around and walked away, ignoring the pleas from the group of people who were far from academics, but you on the other hand were more concerned about Bakugo himself.

"Don't worry guys, I got him," You had mumbled to your friends before quickly scurrying away to follow him.

The plan was going good so far, since you two did separate from the group, not exactly on such negative pretenses but.. That was the goal.

"Bakugo!" You called to get no response, just him continuing forward in the direction of his dorm room.

"Bakugo, slow down!" Did he... Did he just start walking faster?

"Katsuki!" You yelled once you got to the hall his dorm was on, he finally stopped. "Tell me what's wrong."

He quickly turned to you, an unreadable emotion plastered on his face, the only thing that could be deciphered is that it certainly wasn't happy.

"Do you a-fucking-shamed of me or something?!" He yelled, his voice cracking along with your heart. It didn't take much thought to figure out he was upset about the current state of the relationship. Even though you thought you had gotten used to with his sudden yelling, you couldn't stop yourself from flinching away from the sudden harsh-sounding words.

"Katsu, of course I'm not. I'm so sorry for making you believe otherwise," You began what you meant to be a comforting speech but the blonde didn't let you continue.

"Then why the hell can't anyone know we're together, huh?! Why-" His angry yelling came to a halt when you put both hands on either side of his face. The feeling of your soft touch almoat instantly calmed him down.

"Look at me," You demanded, his red hues bore into yours, they were progressively getting softer by the second. "The only reason I asked for our relationship to be in secret is because I wanted to keep our love between us. You're my boyfriend no matter how many people know. I'll never be ashamed of you, I love you, K-"

A rushed, greedy kiss came from the slamming of Bakugo's lips onto yours, because in the end he is just a horny teenager who has a bad problem of not letting you finish your sentences.

"I told you!! I know my bro the best!" The kiss was quickly separated by both parties as Kirishima's voice pipes up, his volume never failing to surprise.

"Wh-What are you guys here for?!" Your stomach twisted with embarrassment, having been caught in the act of kissing Bakugo by your entire group of friends that stood at the end of the hallway.

"They saw the hickey and scratch marks you two left on each other and wanted to see if you both really were the ones who placed their mark on each other.." Sero mumbled out an explanation that you could barely pick up over Mina and Denki's own conversation about how much they loss betting that another person was "with" their friend.

"Well now they know.." After listening to the entertaining complains from Denki and Mina you spoke at a soft level only the boy beside you could hear, a fond smile placed gently upon your face. You don't think that letting other people in on the relation ship would be the worst thing.

"Maybe I should leave more hickeys on you, then.." A sly tone slipping out a mischievous smile.

"Katsuki!!"

#my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugou #secret relationship #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #my hero academia oneshots #mha oneshots #bnha oneshots #boku no hero academia oneshots

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oumiyuki · 3 years

Text

Rikyako’s Feelings

Summary: Rikyako may or may not have a crush on Aikyan. And she has a hard time coming to terms with it and on what to do. So she seeks advice from one of the members of Aqours!

Pairing: Rikyako x Aikyan (KyanRika), hints of AnShuka too ;)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Developing Relationship and Frienship!

Words: 2460

Author’s Notes

Bet y’all weren’t expecting me to write KyanRika! Wahahaha!!!! XD

May you enjoy~ XD

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rikyako sighs in between catching her breath, wiping her sweat off her face with a towel in hand as she walked to an open seat in the gathering room with the long white tables.

I’m exhausted…

Rikyako notices that Aikyan sits directly opposite of her and she feels her heartbeat speed up when it should be slowing back down after their dance practice.

Ah… Aikyan is…sitting in front of me… Wiping her sweat…smiling…

“…might not be getting that part right?”

To Ainya.

Laughter bubbles out of Aikyan as she shakes her hand, reassuring Ainya and agreeing at the same time. “Yes, you should probably turn a little slower and then…Ha!”

“Ha!” Ainya mimics as taught then giggles.

Aikyan laughs along and turns back in front, catching Rikyako staring, their eyes meet and Rikyako hopes her face is still flushed from earlier instead of being caught blushing because she was staring at Aikyan.

Gosh, what do I do when I keep blushing just from our eyes meeting??

Rikyako raises her towel to use wiping her sweat as an excuse for breaking the eye contact. When she hears Aikyan talking to Ainya again, she sighs under her breath turning her head again to see that the other girls were drinking sports drinks and cooling off.

Some even wiping each other’s sweat – and by some – it was Anju and Shuka, smiling tiredly but blissfully as they pushed the towel on each other’s exposed skin to clean the sweat off, laughing about whatever they were talking about. Rikyako felt a tinge of envy.

Anchan and Shuka look so cute together… I mean they are and… If only I…

Rikyako looks back to the person who comes to mind whenever she thinks of a romantic partner and when their eyes meet again, Rikyako drops her head immediately to stare at a space on the table.

Eh!? W-Was Aikyan looking at me? Am I imagining things?

Ainya for once was sharp and noticed something going on between Rikyako and Aikyan, or perhaps it was her spot-on gay sense tingling again, but the small and cute singer asks, “Is there something you want to say to Kyan, Rikyako?”

“Eh? No…I… No?” Rikyako smiles a confused smile to Ainya, trying and failing to not let her eyes peek back at Aikyan to see her face, that beautiful porcelain face and just to see if she was looking.

If Anchan and Shuka are literal magnets, my eyes and Aikyan just might be the next magnetic thing since I cannot seem to not look. At. Her!! Aaahhh!

Rikyako kept up the serene smile while she panicked on the inside. Conflicted at how badly she wants to openly stare at Aikyan whom she has a crush on and wanted to not admit to it. Or not admit it to the world.

Ainya hums thoughtfully. “Hmm… You’ve been looking at her though.”

“N-No. I was not!” Rikyako feels her cheeks grew hot again at being called out for her blatant staring.

Ahh, was I that obvious about it??

“Hmm… Lately, you’ve been doing that a lot.” Ainya pushes.

“You’re misunderstanding things…” Rikyako does look to Aikyan again, however, and quickly averts her gaze when their eyes meet, causing Rikyako’s heart to skip a beat again.

What is with those eyes and their magic capability to make my heart do those somersault kinds of things!!

Averting her gaze by turning her head away again, Rikyako happens to make eye contact with Shuka on the left side, just done giving Anju some headpats for doing well in today’s dance practice; the leader of Aqours giving a silly “Heh heh heh” to Shuka.

Ah… I wish I could be as honest as Shuka…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rikyako manages to avoid having to explain her obvious staring and constant fidgety behaviour around Aikyan and with everyone changed out of their practice wear and into their casual clothes; everyone was free to leave the dance studio and do what they want for the rest of the day.

Maybe I could ask Shuka for advice…

Rikyako has been thinking long and hard about this, ever since she realized her growing feelings for her groupmate who was also her subunit mate, all the time spent together and the impossible heart racing she had to live with when they were close..! Rikyako wanted some progress and felt like it would be best to confide to someone.

Shuka is always such a good listener to what I have to say…

But getting Shuka alone was hard. Shuka was almost always with someone if not Anju!

Gosh, are you forever with Anchan or what??

When resting, she was with Anju. When changing, she was talking to Anju. When walking about she was chilling with Anju! And on other times when Rikyako thought Shuka was alone, the girl was chatting with another member!!!

When will Shuka give me a chance to get her alone..! Mou!

Shuka was just about to flutter over to AiAi to chat when she lets out a surprised yelp as she was pulled by her arm backwards. “Rikyako? What’s up?”

“Can we talk for a bit? I…need your advice on something.” Rikyako blinks nervously as she blurts out her intentions.

Shuka smiles a wry smile, seemingly having a hunch on what is up. “Your treat?”

She’s a literal little sister.

“Fine.” Rikyako returns a relaxed smile at Shuka grinning cutely to get treated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At the café, Rikyako chose a corner of the store where it was quieter and less busy to sit at. Not wanting any possible eavesdroppers and also not wanting to get overly conscious about people’s gazes.

Shuka scoots into her spot and grins. “I’ll have a Chocolate Chip Crème Frappuccino and a…Blueberry Crumble Muffin!”

Rikyako chuckles. “Sure, sure.”

Hmm… What should I get..?

Rikyako heads up to the counter, with one person ordering in front, she took the time to browse the menu and display of pastries.

What should I ask Shuka first..? About how to be confident about my feelings..? Or about how to confess..? I guess this should be obvious.

It was her turn to order so Rikyako steps up with a soft smile greeting the cashier. “May I have a Chocolate Chip Crème Frappuccino, a Mocha Frappuccino, and one Blueberry Crumble Muffin?”

“One Chocolate Chip Crème Frappuccino, one Mocha Frappuccino, and one Blueberry Crumble Muffin. And the name..?”

“Ah. Ka-chan.” Rikyako says and lowers her head as she remembers how she thought the rest of the girls were calling her mum when they meant to use the ‘ka’ in her Rikako.

The cashier lady probably did not think much about it but Rikyako still felt slight embarrassment from her silliness.

Maybe I should have said RKK.

Rikyako makes the payment and decides to wait about instead of going back to her seat; wanting just a few more minutes to think of what she might want to ask Shuka for help with.

It’s this day and age already and yet… I can’t help but feel that there’s a chance that Aikyan might not like me that way…

Rikyako shakes her head lightly.

No, that’s not it… I’m worried…about what others would think. Everyone seems open-minded, especially seen with Anchan and Shuka’s relationship reveal…

Rikyako closes her eyes as her eyebrows knitted together.

No… There’s no point lying to myself. The problem here is that… I’m worried about what the world thinks about me being in love with another girl…

Rikyako sighs just as her name was called.

“Ka-chan.”

Rikyako puts on a smile quickly as she took her orders onto a tray and returns to Shuka who pushed her phone to the side and gave Rikyako a smile and thanks.

Somehow… I don’t feel as scared about these feelings when looking at Shuka.

“Ooh~ This looks yummy.” Shuka held the fork in hand as she eyed her dessert. “Oh, you didn’t get yourself something?”

“No, I got to keep my calorie count checked.” Rikyako smirks and Shuka laughs.

“Right, right. There was that.” Shuka takes a bite and elicits a happy sound.

So carefree…

“Were you texting Anchan?”

“Mm. Was it that obvious?” Shuka nods, swallows, and replies.

Rikyako sips her drink. “Now that I think about it, it was quite the redundant question since you two are always texting when apart.”

Shuka’s cheeks pinken slightly. “That’s not true.”

Rikyako shakes her head with a fond smile at the younger girl’s bashfulness. “Did you…tell Anchan that you’re with me?”

Shuka seems thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “She was going to take me out on a date after all.”

“Oh.” Rikyako’s eyes widens slightly. “I’m sorry, if you got something on-”

“Was.” Shuka repeats then smiles widely. “Anju texted me that she can’t believe she got beaten by you in asking me out~”

Oh… So they have yet to make plans… Thank goodness.

“It is truly hard to believe since you two are stuck together like glue!” Rikyako shakes her head again, giving herself a mental pat on the back for being able to get Shuka alone.

Shuka laughs. “It would seem to be the case.”

“It is the case!” Rikyako chuckles at Shuka’s funny smile and shaking of her head, pretending to be in denial.

Granting some silence to munch on the muffin and drink their drinks, Rikyako fidgeted with the paper that once held the straw till it was all crumpled up nicely.

“Shuka…”

“Yeah?”

“How did you decide that…you are 100% gay for Anchan?” Rikyako squishes the paper in her hand tightly, nervous about whatever answer she could be getting, nervous about the topic.

Ahhh.

Shuka looks right at Rikyako before reacting. “Pfft, how I fell in love with Anju? That’s easy-”

“The being gay part is important too.” Rikyako hurries to emphasize.

“I know. And you’re overthinking things, Rikyako.” Shuka had a gentle smile on her lips and Rikyako felt her tenseness reduce a little.

“Love is love. Regardless of gender. Anju is Anju. So… I fell in love with her.”

Rikyako nods, listening intently.

Love is love… Anchan is Anchan and so… Shuka who is Shuka. Fell in love with Anchan…

“And Kyan is Kyan. You’re in love with Kobayashi Aika-san. Correct?”

Kyan is Kyan. And I’m in love with—

Rikyako’s eyes bulged and her mouth fell agape in surprise as Shuka had a big smug grin, looking ridiculous as she waggled her eyebrows teasingly at Rikyako.

“H-How did you..?” Rikyako’s face was hot and red.

“Call it women’s intuition!” Shuka cackles.

Rikyako snorts. “Even though you’re a kid.”

“Hey! I’m already an adult!” Shuka puffs her cheeks out indignantly at Rikyako who forgets about her own crush problems as a tease bubbled in her mind and out her mouth.

“Anchan made you an adult?”

“Wha— T-That’s not the point!” Shuka blushes immediately causing Rikyako to blush a little more too.

“She did, huh…” Rikyako looks away and so does Shuka.

I guess that should be expected but aahhhh..!! No, don’t imagine it, Rikako. Shuka is too pure to be…to be… by Anchan…! No stop. The images. Aaahh!

Shuka fidgets with the straw in her drink, stirring the contents randomly. “Can we not talk of that right now?”

With extra reddened cheeks, Rikyako nods and mumbles. “Looks like I will need to look for you for help again if I can…come to terms with myself and find the courage to…”

Confess…///

“R-Right. I’m here for you, Aida.”

“Saitou.”

Rikyako and Shuka share a staring match before bursting into laughter.

Shuka was finished with her blueberry muffin when she props her chin on her hand. “So…Do you think you will be able to confess to Aikyan?”

“Don’t think so…” Rikyako sighs as she glanced at Shuka and back down at the table.

I know I’m in love with Aikyan but how am I supposed to even go about confessing to her???

“Rikyako.” Shuka calls for the older girl’s attention.

When Rikyako looks up into earnest brown eyes, she could not help but sit up straighter.

“Tell me who you love.”

“Eh? You already know..?” Rikyako’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Tell me who you love.” Shuka repeats with a small nod, trusting that Rikyako will catch on.

Oh… She wants me to say it aloud.

“I…” Rikyako begins and finds her voice stuck.

“I… I love…” Rikyako licks her lips and grabs her drink to help with this sudden dryness of her lips.

Why is it so hard??

Shuka waits patiently, subtly placing her drink to the side, giving Rikyako her full attention.

“I love… …”

Rikyako wanted to let out another sigh, wanted to give up and say it was too difficult for her to do so right now. Maybe she needed another day. A few more hours. Some alone time to pep-talk herself. But before she could—

“Riiikyako.” Shuka drags the first syllable for a bit and Rikyako looks up to see that patient smile again; the magic of Shuka’s smile already stealing some tension away from Rikyako’s creased eyebrows and heavy shoulders. “Just think about her. Don’t think about anything else. …Then tell me who it is.”

I love… the one I love…

“She’s lovely.”

“I’m sure she is.” Shuka’s lips pull higher as she knew it was working.

“She’s kind. And patient.”

Shuka nods and Rikyako feels something bubbling inside her – the desire to talk about the person she loves.

“She’s silly and funny. And she makes me laugh and knows me. Like, like no other…” Rikyako unknowingly lets out a dreamy sigh as she thought of her crush.

Shuka nods encouragingly.

“She’s someone that I wish to be able to…be together more. And to… h-h-hold hands with… Like you and Anchan do.”

Shuka chuckles softly. “I’m sure you’ll get to.”

“And…maybe get a kabedon or two…” Rikyako scratches her pinkened cheeks at the idea.

Shuka giggles. “She’d get embarrassed too though.”

“Very much so.” Rikyako giggles along.

“I love that about her too.”

“Me too…”

“Who is this wonderful person~?” Shuka sing-songs.

“She’s… Kobayashi Aika. I’m sure you know her too.” Rikyako grins, a glint in her eyes and a weight off her chest.

“I love Aikyan…” Rikyako says aloud, in a gentle tone, in a voice filled with so much love that it surprised herself.

Shuka beams from ear to ear. “Now go tell her that!”

“O-One step at a time!” Rikyako covers her face with both hands; failing to hide the wide smile she could not help but smile at admitting the enormous love she feels for Aikyan.

Confessing was a hurdle for another day. Right now, Rikyako simply felt lighter, like she could float up into the air with just these feelings of love she has for Aikyan. And she loved the feeling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author Notes

PAAAAART ONEEEEEEE!!!!

Yes, you heard that right! There’s going to be another chapter of KyanRika in the near future!!! *O*

And I do hope y’all look forward to it~ XD

But first..~ How did you like this first chapter? OwO

I thought it’d be cute to touch on Rikyako being a little unsure about…admitting her feelings. It’s something that isn’t easy after all! And even if it’s so freaking obvious that she has a big crush on Aikyan, it doesn’t mean that Rikyako herself wouldn’t be worrying about it~ :))))

Also since Rikyako loves mentioning how much she likes that Shuka listens to her talk; why not let Shuka be the wingwoman while I have some of my favourite AnShuka in this right? Hehehe~ UwU

Leave a comment if you like! ^w^ Let me know your favourite parts! :D

And see you next chappie~ ;D

#kyanrika #anshuka #aida rikako #kobayashi aika #saitou shuka #inami anju #fanfiction #fanfic #suzuki aina #rikyako #aikyan #shukashuu #anchan #love live sunshine #writing #miyukiwrites #romance #fluff

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all-things-mlqc · 4 years

Note

The five boys react to an overweight MC that works as a nutritionist but struggles a lot to lose weight? It might be strange but it happens sometimes. PLEASE!!! Btw, I love your work❤️

This was really fun to write about. Knowing that these guys are so supportive of MC and want to help her in any way possible with whatever she’s struggling with is just so sweet.

Thank you for the love and support as well! 😭 I’m usually just memeing it up out here so writing HCs is very new for me but your support helps so much! I did meme a lot while writing this as well because what’s life without memes, so you can find all of my inner thoughts crossed out~ Hope you enjoy!

HC below the cut~

Gavin:

Gavin loves and supports MC through everything. He’s constantly watching and confronts her whenever he believes something is wrong.

After noticing her sulking at herself in the mirror, he asks what’s troubling her.

“Nothing really! You don’t need to worry about me.”

She gives him a small smile and turns away from the mirror.

He figured it had something to do with her figure given the way she was looking at herself.

He remembered her mentioning how even though she’s a nutritionist, she still struggled with her own weight.

She didn’t seem all that down back when mentioning it, but the expression she had in the mirror said otherwise.

He stood up from the sofa and asked if she wanted to go with him during his morning jog.

“Why would you want me to do that? I’d only slow you down.”

Gavin: I don’t mind. If it’ll help, then I’ll do anything I can.

This man isn’t one for small talk. He gets straight to the point. He observes, finds the problem and seeks out a solution. There was no need for MC to confirm his suspicions about wanting to lose weight; It was all in her expression.

“I don’t really want you to go out of your way for me... Besides, it’s important you don’t slack off with your training.”

Gavin: I wouldn’t be slacking off. Training with you would only make me work harder.

A NATURAL ROMANTIC BUT ALSO A FUCKING MORON WHO GAVE HER A BLOOD SOAKED LETTER. IM GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU YA DUMBASS

MC takes up on Gavin’s offer considering how adamant he was. He also didn’t seem concerned in the slightest about MC being a burden BECAUSE SHES LITERALLY THE LIGHT IN HIS LIFE AND WOULD DO ANYTHING FOR HER

After they go jogging, they stop for a healthy meal of MCs choice because Gavin doesn’t know what food is. Have you seen his kitchen? INSTA NOODLES EVERYWHERE. Boy is literally the type to throw a lunchables on the dinner table and give thanks for his beloved meal. Omg nononono I’m thinking of all these sad things now about how Gavin was literally homeless for a while as a kid so he probably just got used to eating something small and simple every day. BYE IMMA GO CRY NOW

While eating, Gavin comes up with a few more ideas to help and offers to take her to his gym every other day.

They come up with a plausible schedule that could seem efficient to MC’s wish of losing weight.

This also gives MC the chance to make sure Gavin is taking care of himself as well.

Kiro:

Kiro and MC meet up when he finally has free time and manages to escape from Savin.

Like their normal days together, they end up walking around Loveland City, going to some sightseeing locations. They just enjoy each other’s company.

When stopping to buy a snack, Kiro grabs two bags of chips and beams up at MC only to see her forced smile. He immediately gets concerned given how positive she always is.

Kiro: Are you ok? What’s on your mind?

“No, it’s nothing. I’m just trying to narrow down on the amount of junk food I eat.”

Kiro: Why is that? You’ve always told me to live to the fullest.

“Well... I’m trying to lose some weight but it seems more problematic than I had originally thought.”

With MC looking ashamed of how little progress she has made thus far, Kiro places both bags back on the shelf with a bright smile.

Kiro: Well if we both work together then there’s no chance we could lose this fight! Besides, Savin has been at my throat lately considering the mount of junk food I’ve been eating recently too.

“Kiro...”

MC stared at Kiro, dumbfounded, who seemed so positive. This gave MC a boost of confidence, herself.

She quietly thanked him while giving him a genuine smile.

They spent the whole day doing fun activities. In a way, this was part of Kiro’s plan to help MC. He knew how much this mattered to her so he wanted to keep a smile on her face while secretly help her from the shadows.

It’s honestly what he does best. It’s hard to tell in the game since we don’t get to see every expression he makes or how he reacts to things, but take a good look at his reactions in the anime. You can see how serious he really is behind his happy facade.

He continues to silently help her every time they spend time together as well as send her encouraging texts and reminders.

Nobody is more positive and encouraging than Kiro~

Lucien:

Lucien knows everything nutritionists know, let’s be real. This man was a child prodigy who skipped half of his school life, going straight to college.

He knows EXACTLY what MC needs. The one problem is, so does MC.

She knows what she needs to do but doesn’t have the kind of support she needs. She easily becomes discouraged when things don’t work out after trying so hard.

Luckily, Lucien is also a wonderful supporter minus when he just “what’s a magic? Don’t know em. No thoughts. Head empty. Only science and death”. Uhu then what do you call that flying cop outside the window? Where’s your science behind that? Lucien: “Well you see, there is a certain DNA mutation that—“ DO NOT ANSWER THAT YOU FOOL I KNOW ITS SCIENCE BUT MAGIC IS EASIER TO ACCEPT RN BECAUSE MY BRAIN GO BRRR

But considering it’s MCs health, he is very supportive and even explains that many people struggle with the same problem. There’s not exactly any problem with how someone looks unless it is overall affecting their health for the worse but he will gladly help MC if she wishes to lose weight.

Knowing that Lucien views it this way immediately gives MC more confidence.

An enormous amount of stress has been lifted off her shoulders which will ultimately help her reach her goal.

Lucien comes up with a solid workout plan and diet that is easy for MC to follow and even offers to make her some special meals to help with weight loss because Bill Nye over here has the solution to everything

I also highkey imagined him whispering in her ear like the first day they met that if she follows his plan without any casualties, he would give her special rewards and yes I do mean THOSE kind of rewards because this man is K I N K Y. I don’t even like him, I blame my friend who’s constantly giving me these ideas about him. You’re lucky you’re a bitch or I’d probably be on the floor for you too.

Victor:

Victor’s biggest struggle is vulnerability. He is very blunt and says what comes to his mind without always thinking it through.

Because of this, he upsets MC when talking about her weight.

He meant no harm from whatever he may have said but notices MC’s sorrowful expression after lifting his eyes from the papers on his desk to meet her gaze.

He immediately acknowledges what he had done and puts everything away for the day, offering to take her to Souvenir.

“What..?”

Victor: I’m done for the day. If you don’t have anything else to do, you can come with me.

“But why?”

Victor: You’re still you regardless of your weight, but if it’s something you want to change, I’ll help.

The man wanted to tell her she’s beautiful and amazing no matter what, but hahaha we all know this man can’t compliment for the life of him. Jkjk he can but like I said before, v u l n e r a b i l i t y. He struggles with expressing his true feelings.

MC responds with pure shock on her face,

“Really?? You’d help me?”

Victor: Only an idiot would ask a question like that. You should count on me more when you’re struggling with something like this.

Baka this baka that. If I don’t add it somewhere, than this whole HC isn’t accurate at all. All you thirsty Victor hoes go watch his baka clip if you want more *spray bottles*

He tidies up his desk and grabs his coat, heading towards the door while MC stumbles over her thoughts.

He only stops halfway out the door to look back over his shoulder at MC.

Victor: Well?

“I— I’m coming!”

She rushes over and follows him out the door.

Victor ends up making MC a delicious and healthy meal, one he knows is a special meal for a weight loss diet.

Cooking was never that important to him. He only learned because of the little girl he once knew. But now... Now he has a new reason to continue cooking.

That girl had come back to him and he would do anything in his power to make her happy.

Shaw:

He watches MC intently as she talks about how difficult it is for her.

Right before MC finishes, he places her on his skateboard and takes off without giving her time to protest.

She shouts in fear ofc. Why wouldn’t she. I’m terrified every time the game says he puts mc on his skateboard just—

Shaw chuckles with amusement in her ear and then tells her to push off with her own feet.

“ARE YOU INSANE?” yes, yes he is

Shaw: I won’t let you fall but I won’t stop until you push.

“Fine fine!”

With the help of Shaw keeping her steady, she’s able to smoothly push off the skateboard a few times.

After getting the hang of it, there’s a slight smile taking place of her feared expression from before.

Shaw’s expression, however, doesn’t change in the slightest. That teasing smirk rests on his face as she continues to push them down the park sidewalk.

As they reach the main road, she yells back to Shaw when the skateboard doesn’t slow down.

“Shaw—!”

It’s all she managed to get out as the fear she once had returned again.

MC shut her eyes with panic as the street grew closer and closer, only to feel an arm wrap around her as the cold wind hitting her face dissipated.

When her eyes opened, she saw Shaw giving her the same mocking smirk he always wears. However, his eyes showed signs of gentleness he doesn’t often express.

He offers her one of his skateboards for workout purposes as well as being her workout partner.

MCs chuckles out of amusement from the idea of HER riding a skateboard by herself. totally a reason why Shaw made this offer. He feeds off of entertainment.

She politely declines his offer of skateboarding but hesitantly asks if he would help her in other ways.

The question needs no thought from Shaw but he doesn’t want her to know he made up his mind to help long ago. ah yes, his one weakness as well, vulnerability

Shaw: I suppose being of assistance to you may turn out entertaining.

MC: Is that all I am to you? A source of entertainment?

She pouts at him half jokingly but he pays no mind to it as he kicks up his skateboard and continues walking ahead while suggesting a few things they can do to help with weight loss. Daring but not enough to scare her away. He actually wants to help but needs her to comply with his suggestions

Shaw is the type to help those he cares for without making it obvious. He believes personal relationships is a weakness for someone like him so he always keeps people at arms length; He always wants a possible way out for when he has to push people away.

While this is true, he’s also struggled with vulnerability his whole life. Considering the type of person his father was, growing up with a man like that not only puts pressure on Shaw, but also forms this broken and terrified personality under his overconfident facade.

Someone please just hold this man, he’s trying his best and needs healing

Their solution for MC is to try some fun activities together. Fun enough for MC to believe that Shaw isn’t going out of his way for her but also not as extreme to the point where MC won’t participate.

#mlqc #mr. love queen's choice #mr. love #mlqc hc #mlqc gavin #mlqc haku #mlqc kira #mlqc kiro #mlqc victor #mlqc zen #mlqc shaw #mlqc lucien #mlqc simon #asks #thank you <333 #man may i just say that i wrote this at the worst possible time #i had EVERYTHING written out and ready to go #woke up the next morning and my phone said ‘haha Apple phone go brrr’#rest in peace 5000+ videos and pictures #all my game data #*thankfully i got most of those back*#all my notes #g o n e #it was a tragedy #but WE’RE BACK AND I REWROTE EVERYTHING SOMEONE JUST END ME ALREADY #but man im sorry this took longer than expected oTL #anywho writing kiro’s reminded me about who he really is #and probably not in the way you guys are thinking #only people with his newest rumors & secrets would know what im talking about #but damn i want more info on that and cannot WAIT for the anime to cover what most of us know

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sombreboy · 4 years

Text

Love Maze »18

Previous » Next Series Masterlist ▎ 18+ ▎ pairing: Taehyung x Jungkook ▎ genre: School AU, crack humor, smut, angst, ETL, slow burn, fluff. ▎ word count: 7.7k ▎ ch.warnings: profanity, angst, jealousy, violence, blood, mentions of hospitals, yandere side character is back and he's CRAZY

Co-writer: @velvetwicebang ♡♡♡

The following day was huge, today was the big game that they've prepared for forever! Jungkook headed out early, leaving Jisoo's home to head over to his own to grab his backpack before heading to school for the last morning practice. This afternoon was it; he had to be in his best form to perform well. Kook made his way to the locker room to change, a bit earlier than everybody else. He wanted to warm up properly, and give his all in the last practice. He loved the thought of competition, excited to show off the endless stamina he's spent countless hours building up for.

Taehyung stalled, lingering close to Jungkook like a pest just waiting to pounce on the opportunity to talk to him.. He waited and waited; until the opportunity never came. “Fucking pussy..” Tae self-loathed, watching as everyone else was quickly ushered out of the locker room by Namjoon.

“Tae, come on! You too.” The Captain was stressed, anyone could see that. Deciding it was for the best to not make a fuss, Taehyung obliged and kept to himself. The elder glanced over at Kook a couple times during practice, wondering how he was doing. Maybe he’d be able to get a hold on the younger before the big game tonight. Tae held on to that possibility.

Jungkook wasn't blind, he could tell that Taehyung's eyes were on him more than usual today. It was weird-- he'd been completely ignored for what felt like forever. Maybe he was just imagining things, however... That must be it-- nerves. He shrugged it off, overthinking was the last thing he needed to do today.

Practice went great, Namjoon praised the guys with a lopsided smile-- the stress and worry was evident, but he was confident in his players. He dismissed the members, Jungkook grabbing his water bottle by the bench to chug it down as he wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand as he resumed to head down to the locker room, the other guys not quite there yet as they stayed around to calm Namjoon's pre-game nerves.

Well, except Taehyung.

Taehyung’s quick, determined strides gradually lost their momentum the moment he pushed on the locker room door, nervous to see Jungkook’s face after what took place between them.. Suddenly, his confidence was equivalent to sand in an hourglass as it dropped by the ticking second. There stood the younger, completely unaware of the motive behind Tae’s hesitant, inclosing steps. He tried not to think about what he was unknowingly exposed to yesterday evening, but Taehyung couldn’t just.. ignore the imprinted image of Jungkook‘s lips molded against someone else’s. A girl. Hell, he couldn’t compete with that.. The elder inhaled a deep breath. “Uhm.. can we— can we talk?” His Adam’s apple nervously danced underneath his neck. “Please?”

Four words. It was the first four words Koo had heard from Tae in weeks.

'Can we talk, please?'

Kook swallowed tightly. Now he wanted to talk? Was ignoring him not enough--now he suddenly wants to talk. "No." He says. There was nothing he imagined that he wanted to hear. He couldn't afford to lose focus, and Tae would definitely not help with whatever he had to say. Kook turned his back towards the elder as he began to change, hoping that would be enough to be left alone. Fuck, this wasn't good. Taehyung had slowly already creeped his way into Jungkooks brain.

Taehyung’s self-confidence deflated on the spot, his disappointment instead peering through the cracks. He’s a fucking idiot. W hat else was he expecting Kook to say? Yes? No matter the initial letdown, Tae wasn’t one to give up easily. “Look, Jungkook— I hate not being able to talk to you.” His piercing gaze roamed over the younger’s bare skin, wishing the two dimples on the latter’s lower back were a pair of eyes. Taehyung wanted Jungkook to listen to him, to see his strained efforts to try and fix the deep shit they were in.

He caused it; he had to end it.

“I-I miss us.. you.” The elder glanced down towards the ground, suddenly wishing Jungkook wouldn’t turn around. If he’d just thought about it for a second longer, Tae wouldn’t have broken up with him. It was an impulsive decision— and fuck.. did he regret it.

Jungkook froze as soon as he pulled the hoodie over his torso. He couldn't believe what he just heard.. was it a dream, where his mind was playing tricks on him? The younger took a deep, slow breath to keep himself together, but it was easier said than done. He really wished Tae wouldve said those words earlier... much earlier... Before he went to Jisoo-- fuck... Kook felt his guarded exterior slowly being chipped away with every piercing word coming off the elders lips, and the mere thought of this was terrifying. He felt guilty, for a part of him wanted Tae back too. A big part. "I... I can't. Okay?" He didnt sound so sure. All he knew was that if he didn't keep his guard up; he'd crumble. And today the game was his priority. Jungkook turns on the spot, regretfully as he saw Taehyung's gloom stance. He seemed sincere... and that only made this entire thing so painful. Fuck, he wishes he could just... hug him. "Tae..." the name was unfamiliar on his lips once more, stepping closer to the elder. He looked a bit different than before-- but before he could say anything else, the rest of the boys came rushing down-- however they came to a halt as they saw their two golden boys in a rather tense situation. Taehyung with his head hanging low, and Jungkook looking absolutely distressed through his doe eyes. The very moment Kook heard the guys, he withdrew the hand he had extended, instead using it to grab his backpack and wordlessly walk away, pushing through the doors with his shoulder before heading towards the dining hall without waiting for anybody.

Jungkook missed him too.. and it was fucking terrifying. Why does Taehyung have this strong grasp on him? He shrugged as he went to sit down in his usual spot in the dining room, rubbing his eyes in annoyance, and an attempt to clear his vision. Game. Game. Game.

It didn't go that well.

Taehyung blankly watched the younger scurry out of the crowded room, ignoring his friends’ careful attempts at squeezing an answer out of him.

“You guys okay or..?”

He turned to look at Yoongi, not bothered to include a verbal clarification. The mint-haired male’s flat expression fell. He was visibly struggling to come up with anything remotely comforting as his palm glided over the sweat on his nape.

“Tae, please.. we need you here for the game, alright? Joon’s already stressed out enough, it’s the least we can do.” Yoongi’s never been in love, but it didn’t take a genius to know Taehyung was hurting because of it. He wasn’t aware of what happened between his friends, but he hoped they’d be able to put it off— whatever it was— until later; after they'd secured their anticipated win.

The rest of the day during school was dreadful, Jungkook couldn't stop replaying the simple words that Taehyung had told him this morning. It was confusing, to say the least. Why'd the elder have to put this on him now? Focusing in class was an impossible task, the one thing his mind tunnel visioned on was to win the game. Nothing else. He'd sacrificed way too much of himself to let this be a flop. As classes ended, he had some time to kill before he had to go prepare himself, so he opted to go for his trusted vending machine to get himself his favourite sweet, explosion of chemicals in the form of banana milk. With a straw pressed between his lips, he headed to sit where he usually would outside the building by the stairs, fishing his phone out to open his text conversations. He'd still kept the one from Tae, hovering over it with his thumb before opening the thread. The latest message was the one that ended their relationship, just after the previous text that was a promise of them meeting after class to fulfill their needs.

Kook sighed, shaking his head as he internally scolded himself for even going through this memory again. He wondered why Taehyung suddenly changed his mind.. and part of him knew he had to find out eventually.

~~~

The day’s blinding light converted into darkness, the sun’s blazing rays nowhere to be seen as seconds turned into minutes, and minutes progressed into hours. The overfamiliar gymnasium gradually filled up with animated students and proud parents, each one there to support and cheer for their respective team.

Taehyung was hidden away in the locker room along with everyone else, partaking in some last minute stretches before it was time for them to confidently walk out into the lion’s den. Tae was sure tonight was the most packed it’s ever been, the muffled commotion reached his alert ears from where he stood, the faint buzzing swelling to a roar.

Well, it wasn’t that dramatic.. Big crowds tended to spike up the elder’s mild anxiety, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.

Taehyung’s hooded eyes were glued on Jungkook, replaying earlier events until it didn’t sit right with him. He wanted to make things right between them— for the game’s sake, and for theirs in the long run.

“Hey, Jung—“

“Jungkook? Hi!” Jisoo greeted with a beaming smile, seeming relieved. “I was dreading coming in here.. didn’t want Yuna to see any naked guys..” The woman awkwardly chuckled, gently withdrawing her hand from the little one’s big, curious eyes.

“Is that a baby?!”

“No, Hoseok, it’s a dog.” Yoongi sassed with a roll of his eyes, following behind their friends to greet the newcomer. Jimin and Hoseok seemed extra infatuated with the chubby little human while Yoongi kept to himself, trying to act unfazed by Yuna’s incoherent babbles. Namjoon and Taehyung however.. Both were wide-eyed.

“Jungkook, who’s this?” Jimin’s plump lips twitched up into a smile, curious about Kook’s friend. Jisoo’s fingers sneakily grazed over the younger’s strong, naked biceps. She tried to be slick, but failed. Jungkook looked extra good in a pair of jersey and shorts..

Meanwhile, Joon and Tae lingered in the corner, watching the situation unfold with narrowed eyes. While Namjoon glared at Jungkook, Taehyung glared at Jisoo.

Jungkook's eyes widened at the surprise, expecting her to be out in the audience rather than... well, in their locker room. It didn't fail to make his lips tug into a toothy grin though, giving Yuna's small nose a little boop of his finger before turning to Jisoo. ''Hey,'' he smiled, noting how Yuna relished in the attention of his hyungs. As they asked him, who the hell this girl was, he took a long second to think. They weren't something, but they also weren't nothing. ''She's my friend,'' he settles with this explanation, ''Lives next door.'' He didn't like to go too much into details, that's all they needed to know.

Jisoo merely agreed in the form of a nod, discreetly confused about where they stood. Now that the question was innocently brought up, it got her thinking.. They’ve kissed, fucked (sometimes more than once on the same day), spent almost every waking day together.. it nearly checked off all of the requirements for a relationship. It was a tricky situation, and alike Jungkook, she barely went into clear details— only useless rambling. “Anyways, I didn’t bring you the fancy sign, I know.” She joked with Kook, turning the locker room into her personal stage as she acted disappointed in herself. “But..” Jisoo looked around, making sure no one was in their point of hearing. “When you guys win, I’ll reward you with whatever you want. You know, to make up for it.” The woman stepped back, her usual smile decorated with the exhilaration of tonight’s possible affair.

Taehyung was fuming... He couldn’t bear to see the two of them together after what he came across the other day.

“They seem close, huh..” Namjoon noted with barely any emotion in his voice, arms securely crossed over his chest. Tae, who stood next to him, simply scoffed. “Yeah, they’re close alright.”

What did Jungkook see in Jisoo, anyway? Sure, she was nice.. caring, compassionate, pretty— all nice qualities. Taehyung only angered himself further. The woman was the perfect person for him. It got Tae wondering why the fuck they haven’t gotten married and birthed ten more perfect kids yet. They were so.. loud with their affection, it was annoying.

“Uhm, I mean, how close?” It was obvious Namjoon was jealous, no matter how hard he tried to play off his feelings.

“I caught them kissing. That’s how close.”

“W-what?” The elder’s hands unknowingly clenched into fists, not believing what he’d just heard.

Is that why Jungkook got so angry that one time..? It had to be.

Jungkook smiled coyly at Jisoo as she stepped back, stretching his back for the final remaining minutes. ''I'll look forward to it. Go get a seat before they're all taken!'' he jokes. But truly, there were a whole lot of people. Before Jisoo left with Yuna, she looked at Jungkook over her shoulder, meeting his eyes with a small smile. He waved vaguely as she disappeared out of view before turning back to his hyungs, not aware of the stares he's getting from Namjoon and Taehyung.

''Alright, let's do this!'' Hoseok chimes, working together with Jimin and Jin to bring the group together into a hug, smushing Tae and Kook together involuntarily, Joon as well in the mess. As if it came naturally, Taehyung’s arm wrapped around Jungkook’s smaller waist as their friends huddled together. While everyone else’s was on each other’s upper backs, Tae’s instincts just had to kick in at the wrong time. By the time he’d noticed, Joon’s body had practically locked him in position. It would’ve been awkward if Tae attempted to squeeze his arm out in the middle of Jin’s hushed ‘poetically powerful’ pregame speech, so he let it be. The taller nervously glanced at Kook from time to time, swallowing down his remaining panic. Taehyung’s bigger hand gently squeezed at Jungkook’s hip, his fingers digging lightly into the fabric of the younger’s Jersey. He missed having him this close... All of this unfolded in the midst of Seokjin’s uplifting words, so it was no surprise when Tae had no idea what his hyung had said by the end of it.

Just like Tae, Jungkook was unable to focus on anything that Jin blabbered about, the one thing he was hyper focused on was the close proximity of the elder. The way his strong hand wrapped around him-- the hand that applied pressure on his hip... It brought back an emotion that he thought he'd finally gotten rid of. Oh how foolish he was. He craned his neck forward, his long curls hiding the expression in his eyes, while his lips barely parted in a quiet sigh. He missed having him this close too...

As the group finally withdrew, giving the boys the much needed space and cheers coming from their hyungs, Jungkook felt like he stayed in Taehyung's arm for a second longer than he planned to, quickly pulling away to roll his tongue inside of his cheek. ''Alright, guys.'' Namjoon announced as he gave every member a pat on the back as they headed out towards the court-- well, until it was Jungkook walking past him. A glare shot his way, but the younger didn't take notice of this, instead fighting his internal battle of trying to suppress his thoughts to focus on the game.

Taehyung quickly followed behind Kook, itching to close the distance between them once again. Now that he’d gotten a taste of what he used to have, it was incredibly hard to pretend to hide his true feelings.. The urge grew more intense when they jogged into the packed court, peers’ blaring shouts of encouragement making Tae want to curl up against his ex-boyfriend’s chest and wake up in a more serene location. The younger’s bed, perhaps.. The thrill that used to overtake him at the thought of tonight’s game was no longer alive. He found the atmosphere suffocating, and the roars annoyingly unbearable. The elder didn’t know why he was extra sensitive to the loud noises, but he figured the constant buzzing in his ear was to blame. The piercing sound had yet to subdue, and it didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.

Before the major game began, each team was given a few minutes to practice their free throws. Taehyung jumped in line behind the younger, building his confidence to lean towards Jungkook’s ear. “I miss you, and I’m sorry.” He whispered. It was killing him not knowing what to expect.. Did Kook want him back, or not? The elder lingered in that position for a second longer, only moving when the string of players did. E ven then, Tae remained close to Jungkook. He didn’t worry about the audience’s stares from the stands, or the questions that might pop into their heads. The rare moment Taehyung wasn’t so caught up in strangers' wandering eyes, was when he desperately needed to be. If he’d been as attentive as before, he would’ve easily pinpointed a certain devilish glare from the crowd.

Jungkook kept his eyes focused forward, however he was listening to every single word that went into his ear. Tae was way too close, in front of all these people... "Why are you telling me this now?" Kook glanced over his shoulder for a mere second to glare at Taehyung, but just as quickly returned to focus on the line as it moved. If there were ever a worst possible time to discuss their breakup, this was it. But Taehyung seemed desperate. And Jungkook slowly grew too unfocused for his own liking. He'd worked too hard for this game to let it go to waste-- and he didn't want to talk about this. Not now. Before Taehyung could say anything else, Jungkook leaped forward with the basketball in his hand, relieved he was able to remove himself from Taehyung for the moment.

Taehyung momentarily paused his ‘trying to win him back’ speech, piercing eyes glued onto Jungkook until he was caught off guard by the basketball thrown at him. Getting in position, Tae aimed for the net. The elder was surprised he made it, his focus was on anything but the game. He carelessly threw the ball to the person behind him, jogging back to a single line formation. “I’m telling you this now because I should’ve done it a long time ago.” Taehyung resumed, standing a little too close to the younger. “Jungkook, I’m sorry. I-I freaked out over nothing, I didn’t think any of this shit through.” He hesitated after a few seconds, “I still love you, so much.. I don’t want to just.. throw that away..”

Jungkook crossed his arms over his chest, grasping at his own biceps to practically hold himself in place so he wouldn't turn around to look at Taehyung. He felt his emotional walls crack, the emotions seeping through was not what he wanted as he was in front of this many people. He took a deep breath through his nose, shoulders visibly tense as he took a moment before he replied. ''But you did. More than once.'' Kook's focus on breathing slowly brought him back down to earth, building those small walls back up to remain as stoic as possible in front of the audience, taking a short step away from the elder as the line moved once more. He just wanted the game over with at this point.

The elder’s shoulders sank along with his confidence. The last thing Taehyung expected was for Jungkook to give in easily, but he also wasn’t anticipating the latter to be so vigilant. Then again, Tae naively played with his feelings countless times. He knew the younger was only trying to look out for himself— and his bruised heart. Shit.. it hadn’t fully sunk in until now. Taehyung fucked up. Bad. He was starting to doubt there was a solution to their problem. “No, you’re right.” Tae kept his distance, not wanting to make Jungkook uncomfortable. “I did, and fuck do I regret it. I just... I really miss you and—“ The timer in the scoreboard echoed throughout the large gymnasium, cutting Taehyung off mid sentence.

He had a feeling this was going to be a long night..

Jungkook turned to give Taehyung a glance before he headed towards their side of the court with the team, an unnamed emotion in his eyes before it slowly morphed into his focused persona when it came to basketball. As previously mentioned, the younger didn't come here to play around. He was here to win. He's prepared for this match with his entire being.

The teams gathered in each side, Jungkook and the others in a large circle as Namjoons eyes roamed the players. "Okay, this is it. Put your everything into this game.." he paused when his eyes flickered to Jungkook, a hidden glare thrown his way before they go back to the rest, "Let's get it!"

"Let's get it!" The rest of them cheered before getting into respective positions.

Along with Namjoon, Jimin, and Jungkook— Tae was one of the first players sent out into the bustling court. It was during moments like these that he wished he was a benchwarmer. Taehyung lacked his usual spirited determination. The elder’s pregame jitters were fully hidden behind his worrisome exterior, and catching sight of Jisoo silently cheering for Jungkook to do his best in the form of an encouraging fist only provoked Tae’s sullen expression to harden. Turns out he wasn’t the only one who saw, Namjoon was one step ahead of him.

“Jungkook!” Joon shouted, seeing how the younger stalled to get in position, likely because he was drawn to Jisoo’s cute antics. “Hurry up, you can talk to your girlfriend later.” He spat, gaze lowering in response,

Jungkook knew how he felt about the older woman, how could he do that to him? Kook's eyes widen before they squint in confusion, completely caught off guard by Namjoon's sudden words-- that were definitely laced with something. He knew their captain had a crush on her, but he also kind of fucked it up himself. "What? No, she's..." he was interrupted by the buzzer going off, shifting his gaze from his captain to the one thing that he wants to focus on; the damn ball.

Jungkook was doing well as expected, his attacking role perfectly suitable for him. However, whenever his captain got the ball, and he was in a free position to get a perfect throw, he was surprised to see Joon ignore him, glare at him or simply just pass somebody else. What's his problem...

Further into the game it was getting close to half time, and Jungkook was growing frustrated with the way he was being treated like this. He was barely able to play properly when his captain's childish antics kept happening.

"Joon!" The younger hissed as the first break finally rolled in, "Why do you not give me the damn ball? I had several perfect throws!"

“Several perfect throws my ass..” Namjoon spat under his ragged breath, disregarding his empty water bottle before briskly turning around on his feet. He came face to face with Jungkook, the anger in his eyes having yet to subdue. “You were practically out of it throughout most of the game, Kook!” Namjoon’s voice swelled, garnering the attention of a few of their teammates. “You were staring at Jisoo! If I passed you the ball—“ The captain cut himself short, biting down on his tongue to prevent anything he might regret from coming out. “If your girlfriend’s gonna be too much of a distraction, don’t bring her here. We can’t afford to lose this game because of you.”

Jungkooks temper slowly started to build, eyebrows drawn together as he stepped closer to Namjoon, "What's your problem? She's not my girlfriend!" He hissed, huffing through his mouth to move the sweaty bangs out of his eyes. "Are you serious? Lose the game because of me? You're the one who's not letting me get remotely close to the fucking ball!" His eyes were squinted, the obvious flare of his temper burning up too quickly-- the audience murmuring in confusion.

"Hey, calm down" Jimin tries to ease the situation, but they all know the younger's anger was like a rollercoaster.

"No, it's not fair!" Jungkook closed the distance further between him and his captain, making sure only he hears his next words, "Stop acting so childish."

Joon had to scoff. “Yeah, okay. Get away from me, will you?” He harshly shoved Jungkook by the chest, drawing the attention of Taehyung who moved quickly on his feet.

“Namjoon, what the hell— back off.” He stood in between them, momentarily breaking the heavy tension that linked them together.

“Why are you still standing up for him, Tae? You caught them kissing. Jungkook moved the fuck on!”

Taehyung’s facial expression flickered to one of hurt, his clenched fists slowly coming undone as Joon’s eye-opening words began to slowly sink in.

Was it.. was it possible? Jungkook moved.. on?

Namjoon’s chest heaved from a mixture of irritation and exhaustion; not knowing how to come down from it. He’s never been this angry at someone, much less a close friend.

Jungkook clenched his fists hard, the veins in his lower arms prominent. His body slowly moved, as if gradually his anger was fueling him up to pounce Namjoon. But as he took a step, he was held back by Yoongi's hand on his shoulder, out of all people. "You should take a break."

The coach approaches in the same moment, agreeing, "Jeon, you will be dismissed for now. Go take a break."

Jungkook's eyes widened, "No way. I need to play!" He turned to Namjoon, annoyed by the fact that he didnt protest, but simply agreed as well.

"Go."

A disappointed Huff pushed through the younger's lips, shoving away Yoongi's hand from his shoulder before scuffing past Taehyung to head out, towards the exit to go sit outside on the stairs. He needed some fucking air. U nlike everyone else who brushed off the players’ hostile behavior towards one another, Jisoo stayed behind to watch Jungkook storm out of the gymnasium. Alike everyone else, she saw the small feud unravel between him and Namjoon. It worried her— made her feel like she was to blame. And by the look on Joon’s eyes whilst he stared up at her, the woman knew she had a reason to be alarmed. Jisoo sighed to herself, disappointedly shaking her head before she broke eye contact. Adjusting a fussing Yuna on the baby carrier, she carefully made her way down the bleachers, on the lookout for Jungkook.

“Namjoon, where are you going? Come back here!” The coach called out for him, noting how Joon‘s feet were already moving on their own. Namjoon clenched his jaw, but he listened nonetheless. He wanted to go after Jisoo, but the woman was already out of sight.

“Jungkook..?” After a couple minutes of walking around the unfamiliar hallways, Jisoo finally came across the younger man. He was sat by the stairs out front, relishing in the night’s breeze. She bit down on her lip, wondering if it was for the best if she left him and his thoughts alone.. But she couldn’t, she cared too much. Jisoo didn’t know where they stood in terms of a romantic relationship, but the younger was undoubtedly a friend. The woman cared for him like a mother. “Hey.” She sat down next to him, the faintest of smiles grazing her lips. “Nice job out there— so far. I knew you’d do great.”

Jungkook turned his chin to look at her, his clenched jaw softening at her praise. ''Thank you.. But..'' He sighs as his shoulders sink with his next words, ''I don't think they'll let me play anymore. Namjoon is being an ass... With all rights, I guess.'' His eyes meet Jisoo's, a lopsided smile tugging at his lips, ''He obviously still likes you, so I suppose it's not surprising. But I wonder how he suddenly just... assumed you were my girlfriend or something.'' He ran his long fingers through his damp hair, leaning back on his elbows whilst looking up at the sky. It felt weird, really. He couldn't get the thought of Taehyung out of his mind. ''And Taehyung was acting weird too.''

The sound of Jisoo’s muffled giggle disrupted the small pause of silence, “Kim Namjoon is being an ass? Are you sure we’re talking about the same Joon?” An unknowing smile tugged at the corner of her rosy lips. Temporarily dismissing the hurtful comment he spewed in the past, the dimpled boy couldn’t hurt a fly.. The fond image of Namjoon was soon replaced with Taehyung. Jisoo turned her head towards the younger, curious as to what he meant. “Weird? How.” There was a question that lingered at the tip of her tongue, and if she wasn’t so desperate to receive answers, the woman would’ve done a better job of suppressing her curiosity. “Jungkook... do you love Taehyung?”

Jungkook felt his chest tighten at the question, keeping his eyes fixed on the nothingness of the sky. ''I know I did.'' He let his elbows give in, now laying down on his back fully. ''Then I thought I didn't.'' A nother long pause passed by as he seemed to sink into his own thoughts- ''Fuck, I don't know... He's a constant push and pull.. He kept coming at me at the worst possible moments during the warmup to tell me he misses me-..'' He stopped himself to groan in annoyance, just talking about it made him feel the frustration of his feelings, covering his face with his hands.

Jisoo simply nodded, allowing her fingers to comb through Jungkook’s sweaty hair. “Jungkook-ah, love is not something that can just.. go away.” Looking down at him, she made sure the ground was relatively clean before meeting Kook at his level. The hand that laid closest to him engulfed his significantly bigger one, communicating her empathy in the form of a gentle squeeze. “What made you fall in love with him?” A hint of bitterness lingered behind her otherwise sweet words. However, Jisoo was curious, she guessed some closure would be nice.. Turning her head towards him, the woman broke out into a small grin. She snuggled close to Jungkook’s chest, Yuna’s soft exhales of breaths the only muse throughout the quiet night. “Tell mee~ don’t be annoying.”

Taehyung spent minutes searching around the darkened school— searching for Jungkook. He was fucking worried, it was unlike the younger to storm out of, well, anything. When he was about to walk past the entrance, Tae pressed the brake. It was Jungkook and Jisoo... Laying together, they seemed happy. The elder hid behind the wall, chest tightening into a knot at their close proximity. Why didn’t Jungkook push her away? Why did he move on so quickly.. Taehyung couldn’t stand it, he was practically putting himself through hell by lingering around, waiting for his suspicions to get proven true. With his jaw clenched, Tae walked away. He needed some time alone, time to think. He advanced into the only space that was vacant, the locker room. Sitting down on the bench, Taehyung hid his face in the palm of his hands. “I’m a fucking idiot..”

A long silence followed after Taehyung spoke out loud to himself... Until a soft chuckle echoed in the locker room, a tall stature with wide arms crossed over their chest. ''Yes, you are...'' Their voice was nothing short of hostile, stepping closer to Taehyung before coming to a halt, a piercing stare burning holes into the male. ''Why do you have to keep bothering Jungkookie? He doesn't want you.''

It was Ash.

He'd kept a close eye on Jungkook for a while, watching his relationship with Kim Taehyung go back and forth. Apparently, they were broken up for a bit now, and it was perfect. He'd planned to approach Jungkook after the game, proudly cheering for him in the audience. But the hurdle being the male below him kept trying to come back, bothering his little Kookie, who looked annoyed and upset down on the court. Nothing irked him more.

The intrusive, unforeseen voice pulled Taehyung out of his daze. He quickly looked up, no longer seeing pitch blackness— instead he saw red. What the hell was Ash doing here? He’d been deaf to the inclosing steps, even more surprising the sound of the door opening. How did the other know where to find him? “I didn’t fucking ask for your opinion.” He hissed from anger, the sight of the other male being enough to spike up his alertness. Taehyung stood up from the bench, meeting Ash halfway. “Why are you so goddamn obsessed with Jungkook’s every move? You don’t need to speak for him. If he doesn’t want me, he’ll tell me.”

Ash's shit eating smirk grew, but his eyes were filled with anger fueled further by Taehyung's attitude. He took a slow step closer, arms falling to his sides as he clenched and unclenched his fists. ''I have to look out for him. His entire body language screamed uncomfortable when you were all over him during the game.'' he hissed back every word laced with mocking anger, ''I hate how stubborn you are, just leave him alone if you know what's best for you.''

A scornful, amused chuckle slipped past Taehyung, who further challenged Ash by stepping up to him. “You have to look out for him?” Tae’s broad shoulders vibrated, a lopsided smile beginning to pull at the corner of his lips.

Who did he think he was..

“What, did he order a bodyguard or some shit?”

He forcefully pushed Ash by his shoulders, prompting the latter to widen the space between them. Being close to him made him sick. Every time he looked into his devilish, hollowed face, Taehyung was reminded of that night. The night he gasped for air whilst he ran through the dim streets, praying for nothing but Jungkook’s safety. What kind of desperate psycho would force someone to sleep with him? Just thinking about it angered Tae. “Yeah, whatever. You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” With one last glare his way, Taehyung purposely bumped shoulders as he walked past him. “Jungkook will never love you.” That was the last thing he reminded before aiming towards the door, suddenly missing the crowd’s spirited roars. Anything to not be here with him.

Ash crooked an eyebrow, saying nothing as he turned to watch Taehyung attempt to leave.

No. No fucking way.

The crazed rage burning within Ash's being was taking over. He had to make sure nobody was in his way to reach Jungkook. And Taehyung made a huge mistake by facing away from a guy like this. A man with nothing to lose-- and only one thing in mind.

Get rid of the obstacle.

Ash didn't hesitate as he practically sprinted the few steps forward, triggered by the other males last words. He grabbed Taehyung by his hair, tightly tangled between his fingers as he forcefully dragged him down, not caring about where, so he opted for the nearby sink. Taehyung's head collided with the hard surface, almost knocking him out in one go. "He doesn't have to love me yet." He growled, "all that matters is that he doesn't love you."

Ash tugged at Tae once more, lifting his head up only to bring it back down against the sink again. And again. And again... until there was blood staining the sink to the floor... Ash eventually stopped when he felt Taehyung's body weaken its struggle in his hold, throwing the man on the tiled floor with a thud. Staring down at him, he scoffed as he wiped his hand on his shirt, thankful he decided to wear black today. "Crazy for Jungkookie, maybe..." he mumbled before removing himself from the situation, glancing over at the bloody male before stepping out of the locker room. He hoped to never see this guy again.

Jungkook had poured out his emotions to Jisoo, time flew by quicker than he thought as he realized he should go back. "Jisoo, I gotta go... uh..." he rubbed his nape as he sat back up, "thank you for... listening to me. And cheering for me." He glanced over at Yuna with a fond smile, "and little one too."

“Yeah, no problem.” Jisoo stood up with him, “I should probably head home, she’s out.” The woman reached down to pick up Yuna’s carrier, trying not to make any bothersome movements that’ll wake the sleeping girl. She was in a deep slumber. Her chubby hands were balled up into small fists, and her pouty lips were parted whilst soft huffs snuck past them. Yuna looked absolutely adorable. As both of them took their time strolling through the empty hallways, Jisoo’s eyes widened when they fell upon Namjoon. The man looked.. distressed? It seemed as if he’d been running around the place, unstable gaze flickering between the two.

“Joon? What’s wrong?” The woman furrowed her brows, her caring tone easing Namjoon’s nerves from whatever the hell it was that took a burden on him. Ungluing his sharp glare from Jungkook, it didn’t take much for Joon to give in, gaze softening at the sight of Yuna.

“Uh.. do you know where Taehyung is? Coach told me to look for him, game starts soon.” Naturally, Jisoo turned to look at Kook, confusion swirling within her eyes. “No.. we haven’t seen him. Have you looked long?”

Namjoon answered with a quick nod of his head, naturally thinking of the worst. Did Taehyung leave the school? They needed him there, especially now that it was a close tie.

“We’ll help you look for him, don’t worry.” She supposed it wouldn’t take awfully long, Taehyung had to be around here somewhere.. “Let’s split?” Jisoo’s gaze flickered between both boys, waiting to see what they thought of her last-minute idea.

“Please.” Joon sourly muttered under his breath, wanting nothing more than to divide Jungkook and his noona. They’ve spent more than enough time together, a few minutes on their own shouldn’t be a challenge.

Jungkook felt his chest tighten with worry, and partially in annoyance. Why would Tae out of all people risk the game like this? He wouldn't. "Yeah, I'll check the locker rooms." Kook agreed, waiting for the confirmations of the two before no longer staying around to waste time.

As he headed down to the locker room area, he checked other rooms and bathrooms on the way. Kook clenched his jaw in annoyance; why'd Tae disappear like this? It's a dick move as always, Taehyung is a fucking-- "Taehyung?" He didn't recognize his own voice at first, but it was. Jungkook had pushed through the doors to the locker room, and was met with a bloody mess on the floor. And in the middle of it, an unconscious person. "Taehyung!"

Was that really his voice? It sounded so desperate and hoarse.

He rushed to drop to his knees next to Tae, not bothered in the slightest about the puddle of blood he's sitting in, nor does he care that his hands are stained with the way he grasped the elders body, gently picking him up to hold him close in his arms, cradling his face to get a good look. Leaning in, he placed his ear close to his mouth, relieved when he felt the small huff of air. He's alive. But it was weak. Kook kept holding his ex boyfriend close, using one hand to pick up his phone and text Namjoon.

Instead he texted the group chat.

To: gang gang 🏀 Help! Lockers

As soon as the text was sent he returned to look at Taehyung, every single drop of anger towards the man practically evaporated, and were replaced with everything else. Worry, anxiety, sadness. Love. Jungkook felt as if he would fucking die if Taehyung did. "Tae, please... Hold on." Kook sobbed out, holding the elder close.

Namjoon stayed relatively close to Jisoo, peeking his head inside every door, hallway, janitor’s closet— anywhere that could serve as a hiding spot for Tae. They were desperate, even opting for searching in the girls’ restroom.

Where the hell could he be?

When Joon thought about calling the younger’s cell for the millionth time, his phone’s buzzing chimed in his pockets. “Noona, it’s Kook.”

Quickly, the woman advanced to his side, the brightness of the screen casting a harsh light over their troubled expressions. “Locker room..?” Not stalling any longer, Joon took Jisoo by the hand and led her towards the familiar room with quick strides— “Jungkook, we’re here— holy shit!”

Namjoon’s squeamish heart picked up at the bloody mess in front of him, standing still like a statue until Jisoo’s shaky voice snapped him out of it. “Joon! Call an ambulance. O-oh my god..”

It looked bad. The pile of blood only grew in size, bright in comparison to the color of Taehyung’s skin; ghostly pale. The boy appeared to barely be hanging on. The gushing, scarlet liquid luckily seemed to lose its momentum now that he was turned upwards, but the stream on the dirty floor was a big loss.

“Kook? Why did you text-“ Hoseok’s cheery voice was cut short by a sharp gasp, tightly clasping a hand over his mouth. Jimin and Yoongi shared a look of pure worry, the sound of Namjoon’s nervous stuttering over the phone whilst he gave the person on the other line the information they needed sounded weak compared to their loud breathing. Seokjin rushed to Jungkook’s side, attempting to pull the latter away. “J-Jungkook-ah, it’s best if you let him be, it— it can cause more harm than good.”

Jungkook's vision was blurred by the constant flow of tears, blinking harshly to attempt to regain some grounding. Jin's hand helped to bring Kook back down, however the sight of all the blood only had the younger's anxiety growing, his body reacting without his own say so. He couldn't let go of Taehyung, there was no way.

"Jungkook, you need to let him go." Seokjin repeated, carefully trying to pry the younger's arms open. It wasn't an easy task, but as soon as the ambulance arrived they finally managed to; but only because Jungkook helped to put Tae on the transporter. They put Taehyung in the vehicle, several nurses already working on examining and treating him as another seemed to be making notes about his condition. Jungkook pleaded that he wanted to come with, but was denied. They said he could visit the hospital-- what kind of bullshit was that? The very second the ambulance left, Jungkook hadn't realized his own condition. He was a crying, bloody mess. His legs and outfit was stained with the elders blood, eyes bloodshot and glassy from the constant tears.

Slowly, the group of hyungs approached their youngest, worry and sadness in their eyes. Both for Taehyung and his safety, and for Jungkook. "Hey," Yoongi suddenly said as he wrapped his arms around Kook, not caring about the mess. One by one, every single one of his team had joined in the group hug, holding each other tightly. Jungkook's breathy sobs grew louder, but he had his hyungs keeping him together this time. A large crowd of students, parents, teachers— everyone that was originally there to enjoy an innocent game, gathered around the commotion. The sound of the ambulance’s loud, ear-piercing wail struck them as serious. And it was; people’s heightened gasps emerged at the quick glimpse of a team of nurses run through the halls at the speed of light, transporting a gory Taehyung from one end to the other until he was securely placed in the vehicle.

“What happened?”

“Who was that?”

“It looked serious..”

Muffled talk spread like wildfire, and some aimed their shitty phone camera at the centre of the action.

Yoongi had to hold himself back from freaking the fuck out, instead hugging Jungkook closer, shielding the boy’s frail emotions from unwanted eyes. Had humanity stooped that low? Why in the hell would they point a camera at them..

“Jungkook, your Tae’s strong.. he’ll be okay.” Jimin softly assured, even though he himself wasn’t too sure. Tears welled up in his own glassy eyes, but they didn’t need him breaking down as well. Jungkook was an emotional mess, he needed them the most.

“Come on, w-we’re going to the hospital.” Namjoon said, pulling away from the group hug to dig for his car keys, not caring about the unfinished game.

Jungkooks body felt heavy, unaware of the commotion around them as all he could think about was Taehyung. The moment he saw him on the floor kept replaying in his mind, the uncontrollable quivering of his body only held together thanks to Yoongi and Jimin as the others pulled back, still remaining close around them to serve as a human shield for the cameras. Kook did look like shit after all. But he couldn't bring himself to care.

He just wanted to see Taehyung.

The very second Namjoon said they'd go to the hospital, Jungkooks glassy, reddened eyes looked up at him, his hyungs leading him behind the eldest towards the truck. At a time like this, Namjoons dad truck surely was a blessing.

Jisoo heavily insisted on going, wanting to keep a weak Jungkook company but was reassured that she’d be in the loop on Tae’s condition.

"Noona, we’ll keep you informed.” Namjoon started the car, convincing her to drop it.

The mother had Yuna to take care of, it was late into the night.. it was best if she didn’t throw herself into this stressful situation. It was taking an emotional toll on everyone, especially Jungkook.

#fic: Love maze #sombreboy

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ohayohimawari · 4 years

Note

"He’d made the most of that last rainy day, though. After the enlightening conversations with both the wizard and Shane, Kakashi returned straightaway to the Pelican Town Community Center, where he found he was able to understand the golden scroll. Although the words were still unknown to him, a glance at them conjured images of requested items that the junimo referred to as ‘gifts of the valley.’ ..." 500 words from this fic please! ✨👀🍿

Thank you so much for this Ask (I’m going to work on the next chapter after I answer this)!

Rogue Acres Farm is the result of 2020 getting to me lol.

Stop me if you’ve heard this before, but I meant for it to be a one-shot. It is actually a gift for @sloaners from the Shinobi Spring Exchange in her server half a year ago, and, much like the game, the story keeps going (for better or worse xD).

When I started writing this, it became clear very quickly that there was a larger story begging to be dreamed up, with too many opportunities for imaginative fun for these two unlikely allies in an impossible setting. Also, I projected my need to escape the stress of this year onto Kakashi, definitely. It’s just too easy and too tempting to imagine that ninja dork as fed up with the shinobi world crap and nope-ing out to be a farmer. It is for me, at least, haha.

When I lost the battle surrendered decided that, yes, this would be a multi-chapter fic, I’ve let it lead me as I’ve written it. That doesn’t mean that I’m wandering aimlessly through the story, so readers shouldn’t worry about that. I’ve had the end in mind since before I began writing it, and key points within the story planned out. However, I’m taking the long way to meet each checkpoint, so I include more of the fun of the game.

And while doing my best to describe Kakashi’s experiences with the supernatural, fantasy aspects of the game, I’ve decided to incorporate fantastic mysteries of his clan within it. Because, why not?

I will take this chance to apologize for slow updates on this story, not because I feel obligated, but because it’s so unlike me in literally every other story I’ve written and shared. It may not seem like it, but I am thinking about this story every day, and the problem isn’t what I should include, but what do I have to exclude to ensure that each chapter progresses the story? I honestly have a notebook dedicated to this story alone containing quoted scenes from the game, my story notes, and so on.

This is a fun fic for me to return to and chip away at, and that’s part of the magic of it for me. If it became a chore, it would read like one, and I won’t let that happen.

In addition, all of the art that I’ve received for this fic is amazing! I’m touched that Farmer! Kakashi has struck a chord in the imaginations of others. I include those pieces in every other, or every third chapter now-I have no idea how many chapters there will be, so feel free to keep them coming my way! You can send me an Ask here on Tumblr or leave them in a comment on AO3.

#Kakashi #Zabuza #hima writes #rogue acres farm #farmer!kakashi

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gimmesumsuga · 6 years

Text

Sweeter than Sweet (36)

Pairings: Jimin x reader, Yoongi x reader, Namjoon x reader, Taehyung x reader + others as the story progresses

Warnings: Angst

Word count: 3.8K

Previous / Next

As you leave the gym, limping slightly, you wonder to yourself whether or not Jimin will explain to the others what that fight was about. You can understand them wanting to know - they had to break it up, after all - but something tells you that Jimin will probably skirt around the question if at all possible, and you can’t imagine Hobi will break yours and Jimin’s confidence and disclose anything either, should they think to ask.

You shake your head at no one in particular, sighing. Poor Hoseok… getting dragged into all this. You’re really going to have to apologise to him later.

Sounds of thudding and banging suddenly come from somewhere upstairs, interrupting your thoughts, and the alarming noises above distract you so much that you almost don’t notice what’s happening right in front of your nose.

Yoongi’s door is open.

You heart starts to pound, the air leaving your lungs when you see Yoongi himself pop his head out of the doorway to peer down the corridor in the direction of the hall and then up at the ceiling, frowning in confusion. He doesn’t spot you until it’s too late; by the time he turns his head to look in your direction you’re already stood right outside his doorway, your hands clasped together nervously in front of you.

“Yoongi…” you breathe softly, your gaze rushing to memorise every inch of his face lest it disappear so cruelly again. It feels like years since you last saw him, not days, and even though his whole posture is screaming anxiety you can tell by the way that he scanning you, eyes wide, that he’s doing exactly the same.

His hair’s a mess, like he’s just woken up, and it takes all of your effort not to reach out and run your fingers through it. You can’t stop yourself from stepping forward though, drawn towards him like a magnet, wincing and rubbing at your hip as it throbs with the movement. God, that’s going to ache for days.

“You’re hurt?” His voice is raspy, like he hasn’t spoken since that fateful conversation.

“Just a little,” you reply quickly, eager to move onto much more important topics - like fixing this mess you’ve found yourselves in. “Can we talk? Please? I need to-”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

“You don’t have to talk... I just want a chance to explain,” you plead, aware of how desperate you sound but not caring about it at all. Yoongi frowns, shifting his weight from one foot to another with his hand resting on the doorframe, and he’s just about to speak when another crash comes from upstairs, louder than the last.

“It sounds like you’ve got more important things to deal with right now.”

How very wrong he is. There’s nothing more important to you than him right now; even if Namjoon was tearing down the very walls around you, making things right would still be your first priority.

Yoongi starts to retreat back into his room but before he can step too far away or close the door you quickly grab a hold of his hand in desperation, forcing him to stop. How can Yoongi’s hand in yours feel so comforting even when it’s ice cold? He looks down at your hands and surprises you by not pulling away when you link your fingers together, squeezing gently.

“I miss you,” you admit bravely, struggling to speak past the lump in your throat. He looks back to you, and you hope it’s not just wishful thinking that gives you the impression that Yoongi’s beginning to thaw, his expression becoming just the tiniest bit softer as the seconds tick by.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he sighs after a moment, letting his head hang forward and shaking it defeatedly.

“Maybe… I can start coming for my piano lessons again?” That’d be something at least… a start to repairing the damage you’ve caused. He lifts his head again, studying your hopeful expression before finally nodding his consent.

“You’ll only start sucking again if you don’t,” he adds, the corners of his mouth turning up into the smallest smile you’ve ever seen. If you’d have blinked you would’ve missed it because in the next moment it’s gone, Yoongi’s face becoming serious and sullen again. You know you definitely saw it though - the way your heart is thundering in your chest is proof enough that it existed. “Not sure I could endure that torture again.” Despite everything, Yoongi's savagery still manages to make you laugh. You knock your shoulder into his playfully, feeling lighter than you have in days, and this time he really does smile, lips curving, eyes creasing.

Unfortunately, a sequence of loud thuds from upstairs interrupts the two of you, and when you glance at the ceiling, chewing your lip worriedly, Yoongi squeezes your hand before releasing it entirely.

“Go on, go fix whatever needs fixing.” He knows you too well, he really does.

“Thank you,” you tell him sincerely, both for understanding your need to leave and for granting you the chance to make things right again. Yoongi leans his head to the side, resting it against the doorframe as you turn to leave, and when you glance backward at the end of the corridor you see him still standing there in the open door, watching you go with a thoughtful look on his face.

Climbing the stairs is not a comfortable task right now, not with your hip protesting the way it is, and you're about to climb the flight to take you upstairs to Namjoon’s room when another loud bang both startles you and makes you realise he's actually still somewhere on this floor.

You follow your gut all the way down to the study, trying not to listen to that little voice in your head that's telling you this is a very, very bad idea. You're fairly certain he would’ve killed Jimin if the others hadn't intervened, and here you are delivering yourself to him only fifteen minutes later. What hope do you have if he decides to take out his rage on you too?

Still, for some reason you seem to have some misplaced faith in Namjoon that makes you think he won't knowingly hurt you. Stupid, really, seeing as he's the reason your left side is throbbing like it is. It's probably because of the way he acted the other night; that brief glance of his softer side he gave you when he’d wiped your tears away.

Not that that incident seemed to have had any kind of influence on his behaviour today. Namjoon certainly wasn't soft when he was revealing your antics to Jimin, nor when he was breaking his nose.

Still, it's too late now. Your feet have already carried you to the open door of the study, and as you take in the carnage laid out in front of you your eyes slowly widen, heart pounding as your adrenaline spikes. Namjoon hasn't noticed you yet, and you thank God for that. He's too busy pacing the study floor with his hands twisted in his hair, his eyes fixed on the floor as he mutters to himself frantically in Korean. He's stepping over books that he's ripped from the shelves and loose pages that are littering the floor - the eye of a storm, leaving destruction in his wake. He's toppled a whole bookcase in its entirety and flipped the table too, the lamp that usually sits atop of it lying in pieces against the far wall.

Some thought must set Namjoon off again, because suddenly he starts grabbing book after book off the remaining bookshelf, throwing them against the wall as he yells in frustration, and there's so much strength and anger behind it that they actually dent the plaster, chips of it falling to the floor. It isn't until one hits the wall not too far from you and makes you gasp that Namjoon actually realises you're there.

He becomes deathly still but remains completely tense, drawing himself up to full height as he faces you. He looks terrifying; his lips pulled back, fangs bared, hair in disarray from the way he was tearing at it before.

“Get out,” he snarls menacingly, each word aggressively punctuated, and you really would be well and truly frightened if it weren't for what you see when the swinging lampshade suddenly casts light across his face.

He's crying, and the sight of it takes your breath away. Streaks of salty tears are running down his face, plain to see now that you know they're there, his pain-riddled eyes shining with moisture as they stare back at you, watching you guardedly.

You’re so caught off guard seeing him this way. Being witness to such rare vulnerability from Namjoon makes you wish you could say something to offer some comfort, your heart aching for him when a fresh bout of tears rolls down his cheeks, but what can you say?

An apology would probably seem insincere, and asking if he's alright would just be idiotic - it's all too obvious that he's a million miles away from ‘ok’ at the moment. Maybe actions speak louder than words?

Very cautiously you enter the room, watching Namjoon's body language closely as you take slow steps towards him. You’re looking for any indication that he might suddenly fly into a rage again or lash out, but if anything he starts to increasingly unsure and suspicious the closer you get, no anger in him left to be seen. The tears keep coming though, dripping one after another down his cheeks as he blinks, looking down at you once you're stood in front of him.

You give him a small smile that you hope is reassuring, acting on instinct when you gently reach up to touch his face. Namjoon actually leans back a little when he realises what you're doing, his eyes widening as he stares at your hand like it's a foreign object, hovering just in front of his face. He glances back down at you, at that little smile you're wearing, and then exhales heavily, his breath shaking like he’s frightened of you.

Copying his gesture exactly you gently run your thumb over each of his cheeks, wiping away his tears one by one until they finally cease to fall, and when you're done Namjoon just stares down at you like you're… you don't even know. The expression on his face is so foreign you can't even begin to identity it.

You let out a breath you hadn't even realised you'd been holding as your hand leaves his face, managing to look away from his intense gaze long enough to look around you and survey the carnage. You still don't know what to say so you set about tidying up without a word, collecting the books you love off the floor and placing those that are still intact back on the remaining bookcase.

Surprisingly enough Namjoon joins your efforts after a minute or two, remaining just as silent as you. It makes you gawp when he effortlessly lifts the bookcase back in place. It'd probably take two or three human men to do the same task, but Namjoon makes the solid wood look like it weighs no more than cheap plywood. He rights the table and chairs too, and within fifteen minutes the room looks semi-presentable again. The lamp’s still broken, and there are still dents in the wall, but there’s nothing either of you can do about that.

“I'm sorry for what he said,” you apologise once it's done, feeling like you have to say something, turning on the spot to see Namjoon stood right behind you. You don't have to mention Jimin’s name for him to know exactly what you're referring to, and just the mention of it is enough to have him clenching his jaw tightly.

“It's not your apology to make,” he answers through gritted teeth, a dark look flashing across his face before he banishes it with a slight shake of his head. “I'm sorry you got hurt.” He briefly presses his fingertips to your hip, obviously having noticed the way you were wincing as you'd bent up and down picking up his mess. His touch sends a jolt of electricity up your spine, all your hairs standing on end as he breaks contact. “And thank you… for coming to check on me.”

Namjoon hesitates for a second, glancing away uncomfortably as he shifts his weight from foot to foot and folds his arms across his chest.

“It's been a long time since anyone cared enough to do that…”

“The others care about you-" you start to disagree, but Namjoon cuts you off with a shake of his head and a bitter smile.

“No, they don't. Not anymore. And neither should you.” You frown, keeping silent, watching pain contort Namjoon's handsome features as he continues. “I destroy everything. Anything and anyone I love, I ruin. They keep their distance; it's safer that way.” Pausing as you watch him look to the ceiling and the floor, inhaling and exhaling hard, you can't help but feel sorry for him.

Namjoon might act like a total asshole most of the time, but part of you wonders if perhaps that behaviour is borne partly by his self-inflicted isolation. If you never interact with anyone, if you hide yourself away and let all these thoughts fester - you're unloved, you're destructive, no-one does or should care - then of course you're going to be a social nightmare. He's stuck in a vicious cycle, playing the role that's now expected of him, both by the others and himself.

Still, you're convinced there's something softer in him. You can see it now, in the glassy vulnerability in his eyes, and you saw it the other night when he wiped away your tears. To do the things he did for his sister, too, the lengths he went to try and save her and the ferocity of his reaction just now. Namjoon’s clearly more than capable of caring, and very deeply, if you're not mistaken.

“I think you think you think worse of yourself than anyone else here, Namjoon,” you tell him softly, reaching out and placing your hand on his folded arms, rubbing his cold skin with your thumb gently back and forth. Again he looks confused by the softness of your touch, and it makes your heart hurt to think how long it must’ve been since anyone at all showed him any innocent affection. “Just because you're a vampire, it doesn't have to make you a monster.”

Namjoon remains quiet, but you can tell he's spinning those words around in his mind by how deep in thought he suddenly looks, gazing down at you, his eyes flicking between yours. He unfolds his arms and takes the hand that'd rested on them between both his own, cupping it gently.

“I've been so cruel to you, toyed with you… how can you- I don't deserve-" You cut him off by quickly standing up on your tiptoes and pressing a soft, quick kiss against his cheek. Namjoon’s too shocked for words when you sink back on your heels, letting your hand slip from between his easily as you take it back.

“I have faith there's someone better in there, somewhere. He just needs someone to believe in him.” You flash him a hopeful smile, and after a second, after he's blinked once and then twice, a slow smile grows on his face too. It's different to his usual smiles; this one’s sweet and almost shy, his dimples making an appearance as he looks down at the floor.

“Thank you,” he tells you again as you're heading towards the door, his hands in his pockets now. For once he looks his age; the gangly, unsure middle child of a group of seven, not a leader, not a monster.

“Anytime, Joonie.”

You aren't sure whether to expect Jimin to be there or not when you get back into his room, but he's sat waiting for you on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. When you push open the door he immediately looks up with wide, hopeful eyes. Rising from the bed he rushes over to you, sighing your name in relief but stopping just short of touching you.

“He didn't hurt you?” Jimin asks, looking you over. It's ridiculous really, him worrying about you when his face looks the way it does, all swollen and bruised. Once again you feel a pang of concern for him, one that you quickly push away. You’re still mad at Jimin for what he said, especially after seeing what a devastating effect it had.

“I'm not the one he's mad at,” you answer shortly, stepping around him to pause by where Nova is lying atop of the sheets, stroking her gently as you speak. “You really hurt him Jimin - you know how sensitive he is about his sister, and you still went ahead and used that against him.”

“So I should’ve just let him keep saying that stuff about you?” He opens his arms in exasperation, shrugging his shoulders.

“Of course not,” you sigh, letting your hand drop from Nova and turning to look at him sadly. “But what you said was just cruel; not like you at all. I don't know what to think.”

What you're saying is true - the Jimin you love would never be so callous as he just was. Now that your anger is fading you're just disappointed in him, and you think he can read that quite plainly from the look that you're wearing.

For the first time since you've met him, Jimin looks small and lost, staring at you helplessly from across the room.

“Just… hearing him say those things, finding out that you've been-" He stops himself short, grimacing as if he's in pain, not looking at you when he asks, “...Have you slept with him?”

“No! During the movie the other night… Tae wouldn't have done anything if Namjoon hadn’t been encouraging it. And then once he started… Namjoon joined in too.” You brace yourself for a whole different fight to start then but all Jimin does is sigh, pushing his hair back.

“Of course he did,” Jimin mutters to himself, looking tired rather than angry now, and more sad than anything else.

“Was what you said about his sister true?” you ask, unable to keep yourself from asking the question that had been running through your mind ever since those words had passed his lips. It catches Jimin off guard, making him look at you for the first time in a little while, those perfect lips of his parting. He hesitates for a second before answering, but then finally nods.

“It's true.”

You feel a nasty, irrational pang of jealousy on hearing him confirm it, and you know it's ridiculous, all things considered, but it's still there. It makes you drop your eyes from his face and swallow hard, hating the mental image of Jimin with someone else. God, what a hypocrite you are.

“It was after Ji Su…” You presume that must’ve been the name of his childhood sweetheart - he’s never actually said her name before, and you can hear the pain in his voice when he does. “Geongmin was there for me. It was never anything serious; I doubt we’d have even looked at each other under normal circumstances but… being stuck in that hospital together… it was a comfort.” When you look back at him again he shrugs, watching you with a worried expression as he takes a few steps forward, closing some of the space between you.

“We only slept together once, right after she found out she was terminal. She was scared she’d never…” He leaves the end of the sentence hanging, knowing that you’ll know what he means whether he says it out loud or not. “No one ever knew about it until now.”

“Until you threw it in Namjoon’s face,” you add harshly. Jimin has the good graces to flinch, finally repentant enough now to look well and truly ashamed of himself. A silence falls between the two of you as you look at him, trying to figure out how you feel.

You love Jimin, and one stupid mistake on his part isn’t going to change that. Hell, if it could then you’re sure you’ve already made enough to have messed things up more than once already. Despite having no doubts about your depth of feeling for him, however, you’re not sure whether or not you want to be around him tonight. Everything feels so raw, and though you’re not angry anymore you still feel fragile, like the slightest of things could set you off, and you don’t want to risk you and Jimin getting into an argument about nothing and saying things you might regret later.

It’s with that thought in mind that you collect a change of clothes from your drawers and the nightwear you keep underneath your pillow, not seeing Jimin’s wide, frightened eyes until you turn towards the bathroom to seek out your toiletries.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, and even though you’ve noted his troubled expression you somehow miss the tremble present in his voice.

“I think I’m going to sleep somewhere else tonight… just to give us both some space,” you explain, pulling out a clean pair of underwear and adding it to the pile in your arms. Maybe you could ask Jin if you could stay in his room? You know he’ll be more of a gentleman than the others, and you’re not sure Yoongi would welcome you back to that extent just yet.

Jimin’s eyes grow even wider, his hands shaking at his sides, all of which you neglect to see until a quiet, breathy ‘no’ brings your attention back to him. When you finally look at him, really look, you feel pain stab at your heart as your lips part in a silent gasp. You’ve reduced him to the appearance of a little boy, one who’s spilling tears down his cheeks from terrified eyes, biting his bottom lip as his chin wobbles, grabbing at the bottom of the vest he’s wearing like he’s trying to cling to something, anything for comfort.

“Jimin…”

Before you can realise what’s happening Jimin’s closed the gap between you and fallen to his knees at your feet, wrapping both his arms around your thighs as he presses his face into your lower stomach. He’s sobbing against you, completely silent, only the shaking of his shoulders giving away how distraught he is, and all you can do is stare down at the top of his head, dumbstruck, unsure what on earth you’ve done to prompt this kind of reaction.

“Please, don’t leave me,” Jimin pleads thickly, upturning his wounded, tear-stained face to look up at you, “Please, I’ll do anything you want, just don’t leave, please.”

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jksmoongf · 6 years

Text

Red Lights [part III]

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: angst / fluff / smut

Summary: “An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, and circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle. But it will never break.” – Ancient Chinese Proverb.

Part 3

Word count: 2.1k

Warning: sexual harassment

She locked the screen of her phone and threw it on the stained mattress which had been in this room for god knows how long. Leaning her head against the wall; she pulled her knees up to her chest to wrap her arms around them. The window was closed but she could feel the cold air seeping through.

Yesterday had been the best day for her in a long time; only because of him. Yoongi had picked her up near the university campus to take her to Bugak Skyway, where they spent all afternoon walking around and talking. He truly was a blessing in disguise; appearing out of nowhere and taking her heart by storm. Often she wondered what he saw in her; a girl damaged beyond repair in cheap clothing with a low sense of pride that chipped away each night she was out on the street. Of course, she had noticed the ridiculously expensive watch dangling on his wrist, his car must be worth more than two years worth of rent for this run-down apartment and the brand-name clothing he wore…why would he want someone like her? But she never dared to ask him; never even dared to reveal her real life to him because she was sure it would scare him away.

She despised herself for lying to him; she wanted to be honest but telling him she fucked random guys just to pay her rent was a risk she wasn’t going to take. She tried to imagine the look on his face; how his eyes would widen in disbelief and she let out a quiet chuckle. He would never believe her; he probably thought she was just a normal girl trying to get through university with a part-time job, but in all reality, she was far from it.

Slowly but surely she was running out of excuses why she couldn’t hang out with Yoongi whenever he was free. It was hard for her to keep up with her lies; on most days she told him she had classes to attend or work in the evening and even yesterday she had rushed to campus just so he wouldn’t get suspicious and catch on to her lies. They weren’t little white lies that he could overlook or simply forgive her.

Sometimes she missed going to university and learning something new every day but how could she have stayed in that place after what her professor did to her? She tried not to think about it too much, repressing it was easier than actually facing it. But not this time; involuntarily the memories flooded her mind.

***

“Please hand in the assignment on Monday.” Her professor announced, rolling up the sleeves of his button-up shirt. It was summer and unbearably hot in the classroom so everyone hurried to leave to finally enjoy the weekend.

“Y/n, can you come here for a minute.” She flinched at the sound of her name but made her way over to his desk, while he wiped the board clean of his notes.

“I’m sure you know what this is about…” He trailed off, sitting down on the edge of the wooden table, eyeing her up and down.

“Not really, Sir.” She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, hugging her notebook tighter to her chest. “Well then, I went through all your assignments again and at the beginning of the semester you were excellent but your grades have progressively been getting worse and I honestly don’t know if I can let you pass the class…”

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. He was right; she had prioritized making friends and going out for drinks with them or working on her personal music instead of assignments.

“I’m sorry, I had some family stuff to deal with…but would it be possible for me to hand in something, anything to get my grade up? Please?” She couldn’t afford to retake this class, her parents would be so mad if she failed.

He stood up and moved in closer. “I know you have a lot on your plate…” His fingers brushed her hair from her face.

“But if you’re willing to do some extra work then I’m sure we can work something out.”

She nodded and bit the inside of her cheek as his hand slowing crept down her back, stopping right above her butt.

“Is that a yes y/n?” She nodded again, knowing she wouldn’t be able to make a sound. “Good…” His body was so close to her, she could smell his aftershave and feel his breath on her cheek. In a low raspy tone, he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. “You don’t want to disappoint your parents, do you?”

Both of his hands squeezed her ass before disappearing under her skirt. “Your parents worked hard to pay for this school, so you better do anything in your power to make them happy…” She felt her body freeze up; holding her breath as one of his hands grabbed her thigh to spread her legs a little more. Two of his fingers ghosted over the thin fabric between her legs. “Don’t be shy y/n. You know, I don’t offer this kind of credit to just anyone. You’re special to me..” His moist breath was fanning against her ear.

***

Everything that followed was just a blur; like a barrier, her mind had set up to protect her. She couldn’t remember how she got the courage to push him away before anything worse could happen or how her legs were able to run as fast as they did.

“YOU’RE NOT A REAL MUSICIAN IF YOU’RE NOT WILLING TO DO WHATEVER IT TAKES.”

The words he had yelled at her as she ran down the corridor, still echoed in her head. Maybe she wasn’t a real musician; all she knew was she wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if she had let him do this to her.

That was the last time she had set foot in this place; she couldn’t bring herself to go back and see him every day until she graduated. Giving up the only thing she had really wanted in life was the hardest thing she had ever done; even harder than selling her body - but at least this was her choice and no one would take that away from her.

The happy ding of her phone snapped her out of her thoughts.

Takashi; a Japanese businessman and one of her regulars when he was in Seoul on business once or twice a month. ’Pretty girls need pretty things.’ He had said to her when he gave her the Louis Vuitton bag he had bought for her in Tokyo.

So she was sure it would pay off to cancel her plans with Yoongi for him. Still owing two months worth of rent and coming up short this month too; only left her with this option. He would pay her a substantial amount for her services and help him forget about his boring wife back home.

With a deep sigh, Yoongi set his phone down on the table. He massaged his temples with his fingers and focused back on the screen of his laptop. Work was his main priority too, so he understood perfectly why she couldn’t drop everything for him. Yet he caught himself wanting to do just that.

She had just walked right into his heart; it happened so naturally over the past three weeks that he didn’t even notice at first how much he texted her and neglected the songs he had planned to finish for the new album. But he was good at keeping it to himself and taking things slow. Holding her hand sometimes when he could be sure no one would see it, or her occasionally giving his cheek a small peck when they said goodnight.

There was a sinking feeling in his chest; he knew they were both keeping things from each other; keeping the happy mask on that only revealed their good sides. But he wanted so badly to take it off and be just himself with her.

He leaned back in his chair and stretched out his legs; his stomach was grumbling loudly. It happened a lot, he forgot to eat when he was so consumed with work. He grabbed his jacket from the couch, roaming the halls hoping to find one of the boys.

When he finally found the two youngest lounging on a couch, lazily scrolling on their phones.

“Do you wanna go and grab something to eat?” But Taehyung shook his head.

“No I’m waiting for Jimin to finish his vocal lesson, we want to order food and then play some games.”

Jungkook lifted his head. “Lamb skewers?” Yoongi nodded his head yes and wiggled his eyebrows. “You paying, hyung?”

“Fine, my treat.” He chuckled and suddenly the maknae had a lot more energy than before. Eagerly jumping to his feet and following him down the hall. “Next time, you’ll pay.”

“Yeah, of course, hyung!” He walked behind Yoongi, his arms stretched out, hands resting on the older one's shoulders guiding him to the parking garage.

They were sat in a small, cozy restaurant and he was on meat grilling duty, like always. Jungkook was already snacking on a few of the side dishes while talking about the new dance routine he had been working on with Hoseok all afternoon.

Usually, he thought it was rude to have his phone out but he was hoping for text from her; it almost 9 pm and he was sure she would send him a text every once in a while like she always did.

“It was really difficult! It took me about an hour to get that move perfect. I mean, Hobi said it was okay if it wasn’t perfect just yet but I really wanted to get it right. He worked hard on that choreography and it was really precise and intricate. But I got it in the end; you really need to come watch it tomorrow.” Yoongi wasn’t paying full attention to the boy sitting across the table from him. He just nodded his head in a monotone rhythm, indicating he was listening but his eyes had spotted her across the street. She was leaving a restaurant accompanied by a man in his thirties, who was wearing an expensive looking suit.

At first, he hadn’t been entirely sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him but the way she laughed and walked reassured him. She linked arms with the man and walked to the traffic light to cross the street. She was wearing a short black dress and a dusty rose colored winter coat draped over her shoulders. Why didn’t the man insist on her buttoning it up? Probably to get the occasional glimpse of her chest. He could feel his grip on his glass tighten. She had been lying to him; this didn’t look like work at all. Why did he even give a fuck that she was seeing another man? She wasn’t his girlfriend.

They quickly crossed the street and came walking towards the restaurant. She was laughing at every word that left the strange man’s mouth and gently patted his shoulder when they stopped in front of a red sports car parked on the side of the road.

“Hyung, are you listening to me? Hey, what are you looking at?” Jungkook was worried; he had never seen his brother like that. Eyes dark, jaw clenched and his knuckles turning white from gripping the cup so hard, he was afraid the older one might break it.

Yoongi’s stomach was twisted in knots as she turned to face the man and he immediately put his hands on her hips underneath the coat, making the fabric bunch up a little, revealing even more of her legs. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. An unfamiliar feeling of anger and jealousy started stirring up in the pit of his stomach.

The man unlocked the car and opened the door for her. As she climbed into the car, the man’s hand casually disappeared under her coat. Yoongi’s eyes widened, knowing he was grabbing her ass so shamelessly in public. He slammed his glass down on the table, pushed his chair back as he jumped up.

His heart hammered in his chest; hands shaking with anger as he headed for the door; willing to tear that man apart with his bare hands.

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zrtranscripts · 3 years

Text

Home Front, Mission 25: Adventures in Babysitting

I Went to the Animal Fair

JODY MARSH: Hey runners, it's Jody here! Still stuck in a warehouse. Janine's just been on the radio and apparently it's my turn on the home workout rota, so you lot get warming up and I'll talk through what we're doing today. My leg's pretty much healed, so it'll be good to get moving properly again. You can only fill up so many rucksacks with protein shakes and thermal underwear before you start cracking up. If we ever get these bags back to Abel, we're never gonna need new pants ever again.

Anyway, it's all been pretty grim lately, what with the mega horde and all, so I was thinking maybe we should take this chance and have fun. Be silly, you know? My brothers and me, when we were little, the four of us used to tear about the place. We never walked anywhere, it was always running and jumping and leaping over stuff, and those sorts of movements that kids do without thinking, they're really good for you, no matter what age you are. So that's the plan for today. And if there's any kids listening out there, I'd really love it if you'd join in and show your grown-ups how it's done.

But first off, you're gonna need to make some floor space. Clear away anything breakable and any furniture with sharp edges. I don't want anyone getting hurt. While you do that, I'm gonna put some music on. It's... Smash Hits for Runners, volume... [laughs] The number’s rubbed off, but the track list still looks really good. Once you've made some space, get dancing!

JODY MARSH: Okay folks, I hope you're all warmed up, because we're gonna play snakes and ladders, Marsh family-style. Remember how I told you to clear some space? You're definitely gonna need it. When my brothers were little, my parents worked shift, so sometimes I'd babysit. My youngest brother, Titch - we called him that because he was so tiny when he was born, and it stuck, even when he got massive - Titch would never go to bed when he was supposed to. Always, "One more story!" Or, "Can I have a glass of water?" So we had to tire him out.

Mostly we took him outside to play, but when it was raining, there was nothing to do except TV and board games. This one time, he was still up at nearly midnight wanting one more game of snakes and ladders, and I had a genius idea. We'd play at actually being the snakes and climbing the ladder. So that's what we're gonna do now.

First off, you're going to be the snake. Get down on your belly and press your legs into a tail and pull your arms by your sides. Now we're going to spend the next 60 seconds wiggling. Try to reach the other side of the room. No cheating. Go! Snakes haven't got arms and legs, so you're not allowed to use yours! Try wiggling your shoulders, get a kind of rhythm going. Though... have snakes got shoulders? Halfway there. You can try hissing too, if you like. [hisses] Nearly finished! Who needs legs, anyway? Time's up, snakes. Right, time for you to practice snaking about on your own and I'll be right back after this.

JODY MARSH: Okay, so you should all be expert snakes. Now time to climb a ladder! According to Ministry guidelines, this next exercise is called the inch worm, but it'll always be ladder climbing to me.

So stand straight up, feet hip-width apart. Now bend forward and put your hands on the floor as close as possible to your toes. Bend your knees a bit if you need to. Now walk your hands forwards until your back is straight and you're in a sort of plank position. Good. Now walk your feet up towards your hands until your bum's sticking in the air. When you're feeling a good stretch down the backs of your legs, walk your hands forward again.

Ready for 60 seconds of those? Go! Keep going until you've run out of room, then turn around and head back the way you came. Halfway there. You’re making good progress up that board. Only 15 seconds left. Bet you never thought a game of snakes and ladders would be this tiring. And done! I'm gonna play some music. You can keep alternating snakes and ladders, dance around, or do whatever feels good to you.

JODY MARSH: Nice work, runners. Slow down to catch your breath, but keep moving. We're not done yet. When we were growing up, my gran only came to England once a year. She always brought a massive suitcase stuffed with presents, but the best bit was that she'd take us on a big day out, our choice.

Every year we picked the safari park. They had elephants, rhinos, a tiger, and a whole island full of chimpanzees. All the animals had a story. Most of them had been rescued from circuses or smugglers. They had massive habitats to move about and do, I don't know, normal animal stuff. We'd go for the whole day, eat ice cream and chips, and we'd talk about it for months afterwards. My brothers’ favorite game was making up stories about the animals and acting them out, so I thought we'd do some of that.

We'll start with my favorite, the elephant. Think about a big gray elephant and how they move. Make your legs stiff like tree trunks. Imagine you're stomping and crashing through the trees. You can pretend your arms are a magnificent pair of ears and flap them about, or if you like, you can make one arm your trunk and wave it about from side to side.

That's my favorite bit, making all the different elephant noises. They don't just trumpet, they roar when they're excited to see each other and make these amazing rumbles and chirps and squeaks to communicate, so any noise you want to make is good. Feel the way your body's moving, really enjoy letting it all go, and if you're done with being an elephant, you could always try being a giraffe or a tiger or those little monkeys with the really long beards.

The year I was 15, I decided I was too grown up for the safari park. Gran took my brothers and I... I don't know, I went shopping or something. And the next year, I went away to college. I'd give a lot for the chance to see all those animals again, with my family. You know what? If I can't see a tiger, I'm gonna be a tiger. I'm gonna prowl around to the next song, swiping my huge claws and pouncing on unsuspecting cushions, and you can join in with me.

JODY MARSH: [laughs] Okay, that was the most fun I've had since I got trapped in this warehouse. The acoustics are great in here! It makes my elephant noises really trumpety. Anyway, next up, I'm going to teach you another famous Marsh family game. This one's called Floor Is Lava. We played it a lot, until my middle brother cracked his head open on the fireplace and my mum banned it, so uh, make really sure there's nothing sharp for you to fall against. If any of you lot gets injured, I will get in such trouble with Janine.

First, put something down on the floor as stepping stones. Cushions or towels are okay as long as your floor isn't slippery, but your imagination works fine, too. If you're outside, you could chalk some big circles on the ground. Put some of your stepping stones close together and have some that you really have to jump between. Now imagine the rest of the floor is bubbling lava and if you slip off your stepping stones, you'll instantly be burned to a crisp. Your mission is to get from one side of the room to the other and back again. Ready? Go!

We had a really ugly carpet in our living room, one of those vintage brown and orange ones. So we pretended the brown bits were the stepping stones and the orange was lava. There was a lot of shoving each other into the volcano, but don't do that. If you're finding the jumps too easy, put your stones further apart, or hop between them on one leg, or make this into a game of twister where you've got to alternate putting hands and feet down. Anything goes, just move in ways you wouldn't normally. Use some muscles that don't usually get a workout. Have some fun with it, and I'll put the next song on.

JODY MARSH: You know, I used to really hate that song. Titch, my brother, he loved it. He went through this phase where he'd play it all the time. I could have throttled him. Every time I hear it now, I think of him. We lost touch after Z-Day. We were so close. I've tried to find him, all my brothers, but nothing. Nothing yet. I've got to believe they're out there, that they're looking for me, too. They'll be grown up now, even Titch. They could have kids of their own. So if the three of you are out there with news for me, get a message to Abel, let me know you're okay, would you?

It's kind of a scary thought, bringing kids into the world at a time like this. I don't know if I'd be brave enough. Maybe with the right person someday. And you Abel kids are such fun to hang out with. You've all got so much enthusiasm and imagination, and you all know these amazing facts. You're all superstars. So this last exercise is for you, the Abel Township kids superstar challenge. I'd like to say it's guaranteed to tire you kids out, but I'm pretty sure you're all dynamo-powered. There's no other explanation for all the energy you've got. We're gonna do some star jumps on the spot.

Stand with your arms at your sides. Now jump your legs out and fling your arms wide so you're making a star shape, then bounce back in again. Got it? Okay, let's do 15 seconds of those. Go! That's great! Now let's do another 15 seconds, but instead of side to side, move your legs forward and back. Go. Brilliant! For the next 15 seconds, it's back to side to side legs again, but this time punch your arms out in front of you in time with your jumps. Punch each arm in turn. Go. You're doing great! Now back to your original star jumps for 15 seconds, but this time see if you can go twice as fast. Go.

Well done, you lot! That was a great effort. I'm imagining you all lighting up like little supernovas. I hope you're all feeling well, tired, but in a good way. Take a few minutes to cool down, stretch those legs, and I'll be back after this.

JODY MARSH: And that's our workout done! I suppose I should get back to filling these rucksacks with supplies. You lot'll have things to be getting on with too, but let's take a few minutes to relax before you go. Lie down on your back or flump down in a chair, close your eyes, and think of a place you really want to be, someplace you can't get to right now.

Me, I'm gonna think about the little postage stamp-sized garden outside the house where I grew up. If you can't think of somewhere, you can imagine that garden along with me. I can almost feel the sun on my face. There's that smell of cut grass, and a bird tweeting away to itself.

It's okay if missing somewhere makes you feel sad. I reckon there's no right or wrong way to feel about this stuff. I don't even know if our old house is still there, but I still love to imagine going back and opening that front door like I'm 14 again and my whole family's waiting inside for me.

They're not gone, those places, not as long as you remember them. I know we'll visit new places and make new memories. You'll see. And one day, all this'll be stories we can tell a whole new bunch of kids about.

#zombies run #zr home front #zrhf 25 #adventures in babysitting #zr transcript

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your-dietician · 3 years

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Amanda Bussey is becoming the gold standard for Special Olympics golf

New Post has been published on https://tattlepress.com/golf/amanda-bussey-is-becoming-the-gold-standard-for-special-olympics-golf/

Amanda Bussey is becoming the gold standard for Special Olympics golf

There’s a strong case to be made that one of the most versatile athletes on the First Coast is 36-year-old Special Olympian Amanda Bussey of Jacksonville.

She’s certainly one of the most decorated. Bussey has won 18 medals in Florida State Special Olympics competition (seven gold, six silver and five bronze) and more than 30 medals when adding regional events.

And Amanda has earned those medals in six sports: golf, bowling, basketball, soccer, surfing and stand-up paddle boarding.

But her ticket to next year’s Special Olympics U.S. Games in Orlando is golf, where she qualified under the alternate-shot format, which pairs a Special Olympian with a family member or friend. They then take turns hitting shots on each hole for a team score.

In Amanda Bussey’s case, her partner will be Hidden Hills member Jane Verkouten, a retired banker from Charlotte, N.C., who never imagined herself playing a sport on a national stage before she met Amanda – a match orchestrated by Robin Luck, another Hidden Hills member whose son Ryan plays Special Olympics golf.

To this day Luck, who is a volunteer on the Northeast Florida Region Special Olympics management team, isn’t sure why he thought Amanda and Jane would make a good team.

“I really didn’t know they would,” he said. “I just threw it out there. I thought Jane might be the type of person who was interested.”

Amanda had been playing with her mother, but Julie Bussey, a real estate advisor for Engel and Volkers, was concerned her job wasn’t giving her enough time to play and practice and asked Luck to help her find another partner.

Verkouten and her husband Steve Bona don’t have children together (Bona has one son from a previous marriage) but she doesn’t view the relationship with Amanda Bussey as a mother-daughter or even big sister-little sister dynamic.

All she knows is that it works, and it has enriched her life.

“She’s such an incredible, happy person,” Verkouten said of Amanda. “She’s so enthusiastic about playing and gets so excited when we have a round scheduled. I get texts from her all that day telling me how she can’t wait to get on the golf course. I would just describe it as a really good friendship. We celebrate birthdays and Christmas, go to lunch and dinner … and we play a lot of golf.”

In addition to her intellectual disability, Amanda is deaf because of spinal meningitis that nearly killed her when she was 2 years old. Her mother, Verkouten and other family and close friends can understand her but mostly Amanda communicates with her eyes, gestures and smile — all of which speak volumes.

And less than year out from the 2022 U.S. Special Olympics, Amanda is already counting down the days.

“June 5,” she says excitedly, pumping both of her arms in the air.

And while Amanda has excelled in multiple sports, golf is her favorite, for one key reason.

“It takes a long time,” she said.

Her mother explained.

“It takes longer to play a round of golf than a basketball or soccer game,” she said. “That means Amanda gets to spend more time doing something she loves.”

A happy baby, then questions

Julie Bussey, a Bishop Kenny graduate, read all the baby books. She had long conversations with her doctor. She took all of the prenatal precautions. She was more than ready for her first-born child Amanda, who checked in at a healthy 7 pounds, 10 ounces on Sept. 23, 1984 at the Valley Medical Center in Fayetteville, N.C., near Fort Bragg, where her father Larry was a paratrooper with the 82nd Airborne.

In the first few weeks, friends and family fawned over Amanda’s dark brown eyes and curly dark hair. Words such as “gorgeous” and “beautiful” were music to the ears of her mother, who spent long hours cradling a happy infant who smiled frequently, nursed enthusiastically and hardly ever cried.

“When she was hungry or needed changing, she could make these small sounds, a very subtle fuss,” Julie Bussey said. “She never cried at the top of her lungs. It was more of a pouty sound, and when she got fed or changed, she stopped. Everything was good.”

But by the time Amanda reached four months old, her mother began noticing little things. She had read enough to know a baby’s timetable: when they could hold their heads up, when they could roll over or when they attempted to get on hands and knees to crawl.

Months went by without Amanda reaching those milestones. Her mother had her tested at Walter Reed Army Hospital in suburban Washington D.C., and doctors didn’t come up with anything conclusive, other than Amanda had low muscle tone and slow motor skills.

They eventually diagnosed her with muscular dystrophy, “just so we could start some therapy,” Julie Bussey said.

Much later, then found out that Amanda had what is now called “I/DD” — intellectual and developmental differences.

Once again, Julie Bussey followed doctors’ advice diligently and never missed a therapy session or working with her daughter at home.

She became pregnant with her son Daniel (daughters Rachel and Tiffany would follow), with all four children born within a five-year span.

It was large, happy family.

Then every mother’s nightmare came dangerously close to coming true.

Slipping away … then coming back

Julie Bussey went to the small bedroom where 2-year-old Amanda had been put down for an afternoon nap a few hours earlier. When she picked her daughter up, Bussey said the feeling was as if Amanda “was on fire.”

She quickly took the baby’s temperature: 105 degrees. Amanda was rushed to Fort Bragg’s Womack Medical Center, where measures were quickly taken to try to control the raging fever.

There was little change the next morning. Julie Bussey had not left her child’s side but watching her laying on her back, listless, hardly moving, a horrible feeling began coursing through her body.

“I saw her leaving me,” Julie Bussey said. “I called for the nurse and told her, ‘I can see her going away … get someone in here. Do something.’”

Doctors did a spinal tap and more aggressive antibiotics were started. Julie Bussey was told the devastating news: Amanda might not survive the day.

But it’s also when Julie Bussey found out that she had one tough little girl. Amanda held on … and slowly came back. She was in the hospital for two weeks before being discharged.

Julie Bussey said one other child in their neighborhood caught meningitis but never really found out how Amanda contracted it.

Later, they found out one lasting effect: Amanda was completely deaf in her left ear, and she is unable to hear high-frequency sounds in her right ear.

The meningitis also slowed down Amanda’s physical therapy and timetable for crawling, walking and talking.

However, she more than made up for lost time.

Catching up and being a kid

By the time Amanda was 5 years old, her motor skills began catching up to what was considered typical for a child that age. Her mother moved her and her brother and sisters back to the First Coast in 1990 and soon after, Amanda hit every kid milestone on time: learning to ride a bike, swim and more than that, keep up with her siblings and the other kids in their Atlantic Beach neighborhood.

It was almost as if Amanda had some catching up to do.

“Physically, she caught everyone and there wasn’t a thing that the other kids were doing that she couldn’t do,” Julie Bussey said. “And we treated her as normally as possible. Her brother and sisters were always great with her, and the kids in the neighborhood accepted her, once they learned to understand her challenges as far as her hearing and speech.”

Family friends expressed some surprise that Julie Bussey made the same demands of Amanda as her other children.

“She had to clean her room, clear the table after dinner … everything the other kids had to do,” she said. “People would actually be surprised about that but Amanda was the one who wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The difficult part was when Julie Bussey’s other children began going to Fletcher High School, getting their driver’s license and getting after-school jobs. Amanda simply couldn’t engage in most of the rites of passage for teenagers.

One place where Amanda wasn’t held back was sports. She has been competitive in every sport she’s attempted but golf is what got her to the U.S. Special Olympics, where she and Ryan Luck are the only two of an estimated 1,200 Special Olympic athletes in Duval qualified in golf, and among 17 statewide.

Going for the gold

Once Amanda started winning Special Olympics medals, there has been no stopping her. And it’s to the point where silver and bronze aren’t good enough anymore.

“She hates to lose,” her mother said. “You can tell that when she’s on the podium with the other athletes to get their medals, she’s not happy unless she’s standing on the higher step for gold.”

Amanda Bussey began playing golf 12 years ago when The Players Championship sponsored a clinic for special-needs adults at the TPC Sawgrass. Her mother had no idea how good her daughter would be but it only took one swing to convince her.

“She started hitting the ball and it was like anything else she’s tried … she’s a natural athlete,” Julie Bussey said. “I kept thinking, ‘wow’ … one more thing she can do.”

Special Olympics golfers have to progress in stages. They must first perform in a skills challenge not unlike Augusta National’s Drive, Chip and Putt competition, then progress to the second phase, playing alternate shot with a non-Special Olympian.

That’s where Verkouten came in. The two then had to win a gold medal at the Florida Special Olympics and then go into a lottery system

They found out in mid-June that Amanda and Verkouten had made it. In Orlando next year, they will be competing against more than 200 other golfers from the U.S. representing all 50 states.

“She loves the game and she keeps getting better,” Verkouten said of Amanda. “She hits incredible tee shots, but like every other golfer, she’ll have some good and bad shots, good and bad putts. We’re both kind of unpredictable that way. But she will play as often as she can get out there.”

“Putting is hard,” Amanda agreed.

She then pointed to a leather tag on her golf bag that has become their mantra: “No water, no sand.”

Out on her own

Amanda Bussey moved out of her mother’s house five years ago and lives at the Arc Jacksonville Village, a residence for adults with special needs who are able to live and work on their own.

She had a job at Steinmart for 16 years before the chain went out of business, and now works at Marshall’s. She has three nephews and nieces and is the “fun” aunt, according to her mother.

“She loves babies and they’ve loved her right back,” Julie Bussey said. “She’s an adult but she’s still such a kid at heart. It’s why she loves sports so much.”

Golf may become the fastest-growing sport for children and adults with special needs. This past spring, Amy Bockerstette of Paradise Valley Community College near Phoenix, already believed to be the first athletes with Down syndrome to play college sports on scholarship, achieved another first, playing in the National Junior College Championship women’s championship in Ormond Beach.

Modern sports psychologists who work with golfers stress staying in the moment, not worrying about results and putting both good and bad shots behind. Julie Bussey said that’s exactly how her daughter not only plays golf but approaches life.

“She takes joy in hitting every shot,” she said of her daughter. “I wish I could live in her world just for five minutes – not worry about work, the cable bill, food prices – just live for every moment. That’s the blessing she gives all of us.”

Verkouten said her relationship and the days she has spent with Amanda on the golf course have taught her a valuable lesson.

“When I’m having a bad day at golf, I just think of how happy it makes Amanda to just be out there,” she said. “Then you don’t worry so much about a bad shot.”

About Special Olympics

• The Northeast Florida Region of Special Olympics has more than 3,000 athletes — around 1,200 in Duval County.

• There will be 17 athletes from the Northeast Florida Region who will represent the state in the Special Olympics U.S. Games in Orlando June 5-12, 2022.

• More than 4,000 athletes and 10,000 volunteers will participate in the U.S. Games.

• For information on the programs offered in Northeast Florida Special Olympics, visit the web site at specialolympicsflorida.org/northeast.

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danvssomethingorother · 7 years

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Trust well earned

Summary: Bill came unannounced to see the progress of the portal, as he usually does.

A03

Pairing: Fiddauthor

Characters: PF, PFord, human Bill Cipher

Warnings: Emotional abuse and manipulation.

He had announced his presence early that morning, well before day break. Fiddleford had just gotten himself and Stanford to bed, his husband spooned against him when the pounding at the door came.

Ford moaned and moved to get up but Fidds kissed his fingers and whispered he would get it, please go back to sleep. Ford grunted a protest but he was back to sleep the second Fiddleford’s feet had hit the ground and he tightened his robe on to keep some of the chill off him as he made his way out of the bedroom. He was always somewhere between a proper gentleman and a hillbilly his husband often complained, always bare foot in their home having a strong dislike of slippers and wool socks but he always took the time to wear a decent robe over his boxers and wife beater he wore to bed.

He knew who it was and that sense of dread made him take each step as slowly as possible. The pounding growing and more and more impatient with each second he let stretch.

He paused on the last step and considered just turning around and going back to bed, leaving him out in the cold on this ungodly hour, praying he would just leave and never return. Free them from the shackles they had willingly placed on their own wrists. That was a foolish thought, they wouldn’t be free until he decided they were and not a second sooner.

He gathered his courage and took a deep breath, he glanced at the clock ticking loudly from the kitchen, three thirty am and he already had to deal with this man. Lord give him strength…

He didn’t know why he was wasting anymore time looking through the peep hole since he knew very well who it was and what he wanted but he needed those extra few seconds to prep himself to deal with the man who not only owned this town but owned them. He got a brief glance of the tip of his hat and his inhuman yellow eye being pressed against the hole before he finally clicked the locks open.

Just as he grasped the door knob, the stout man on the other side had beat him to the punch of opening the door, smashing him hard against the wall making him gasp in pain. When he began to push the door away, he felt it smash against him once more and Bill chuckle loudly on the other side.

“Didn’t see ya there, Fiddlesticks, yer just one of those forgettable faces, ya know?”

Fidds ignored the comment as he shut the door firmly behind the short, plump man dressed like he was Mr. Peanut. Fidds recalled a time when he could snicker behind this man’s back at his pompous attitude and his lack of inside voice but that had all changed over time.

Fidds, after months of dealing with this man’s constant criticism of everything he did from the words he said to his mannerisms unchangeable now from his southern upbringing to his work that was never good enough.

Ahead of him, leaning bored against his cane, inhuman eye looking intently at his pocket watch, mouthing his own ticking noises growing louder every second.

“Hurry along, Fiddlesticks, I ain’t got all day for your antics.”

Fidds stared at the man’s wilted yellowing skin trying to keep his eyes from that eye that haunted his dreams. Despite his appearance, Bill was human. It was rumored the rough, scale like skin came from him pouring acid on himself (though he tried to claim it happened during an accident to garner some sympathy from his husband) and while Fidds could believe that, he felt there was more to the story. Considering the things Fidds had seen him showing his husband while he was hidden in the shrouded door way, maybe his appearance was from a deal with the devil. Your physical form for ultimate power was a small price to pay.

A snap broke him from his short reprieve, he flushed hard realizing he had been staring intently at the man who’s smug smile was now showing off his jagged teeth.

“Admire me later, fiddlesticks,” he paused chuckling at Fidds disgust even stepping closer to him to pat him on the cheek in a condescending manor, enjoying the way Fidds jumped back in disgust.

He turned towards the stair way and continued his train of thought, “Where is Sixer? I don’t really have much want or need from the likes of you, I need the real genius who is actually capable of making change. Not someone only here to take demands.”

Fidds bit his tongue and kept his head low so he didn’t see his pain while he got a hold of himself with a few deep breaths.

“You came unannounced after a long night to meet yer dead line. He is asleep, I will slow you what you want to see so you can be on yer way.”

Bill’s smile dropped and his ire was becoming known. Fidds gulped knowing he was treading on thin ice, but boldly stood his ground, knee quivering faster with each syllable he uttered.

“We’ll do it your way then Fiddlesticks,” he said in an eerily calm manor tapping his cane against the ground filling the air with a low clicking that grinded against Fidds’s nerves.

“I know my way,” he stated that smug look creeping back into his eye, Fidds turned his head away seeing his razor-sharp teeth peeking out from behind his wilted lips once more.

Fidds merely nodded, hands beginning to shake as he followed behind the man who had been making his life hell for well over a year now. The portal down stairs was their bargaining chip out of this life of servitude for the man who funded their projects, including he and his husband’s most ambitious project to date, a university to share their findings and teach a new generation about the strange world hiding in the shadows around them.

Ford’s passion for the strange and unknown had always been contagious, he took him by the hand and slowly adjusted his life to it and made him love it just as much as him. The man he shared an elevator ride with, just took his passion and turned it back into fear of what resided beyond his view of sight.

Though Fiddleford had no proof and even his husband told him it was his imagination, he felt the reason the shapeshifter had turned on him the way it did last month and nearly killed him was because of the man casually whistling before him as they descended further into the lab.

With his nerves on edge as they were the loud dinging noise Bill had to do once the door opened made him jump and grind his teeth. He just wanted to show this man their progress and get him out of their home as quickly as possible so he could go back to bed.

Fidds ground his teeth harder as Bill knocked his personal computer prototype onto the ground with his cane, off the blue prints he had been working on a few hours earlier.

“You changed my plans.”

“They were unstable---“

Bill silenced him with his glare as he tore his plans apart before his eyes and threw them in the trash bin. Fidds heart sank, all that planning and calculating, gone forever.

“My plans were exact and unnegotiable as I told your husband, my calculations were not to be tampered with but really what should I expect from someone of your background. Pigs don’t take directions well, so neither do their handlers.”

His smile brightened at Fidds open display of pain and shrugged as he added, “Really, what is the difference though.”

He firmly poked Fidds with his cane making him stiffen, “Get Stanford down here immediately, fiddlesticks, I want to talk to someone with some level of intelligence who won’t ruin my designs or argue with me about them because they are too stupid to---“

“That’s quite enough of that.”

Through a mist of tears that were beginning to cloud his line of sight, Fidds saw Stanford himself standing behind them, not looking very amused to get out of bed to this. Bill set his cane back down on the ground and smiled walking away from Fiddleford, ignoring him once more setting his sight on his husband.

“I was just talking to Fiddleford here about my plans, it seems he ruined them once more. I have been telling you from the start sixer, this man is not to be trusted around our work. He just—“

He paused at Ford’s annoyed glare wordlessly telling him to stop. Fidds had only seen this look on his face after he found him the way he was, unable to speak or move, after the shapeshifter incident.

He had only used an annoyed tone with Bill then as well when he demanded to know why he wanted him to get back to work when his husband was so unwell. They needed time, his health was more important.

“I think you should leave Bill,” Ford said and when Bill didn’t move he took an intimidating step towards him and growled, “Now.”

Bill smiled playing his game for now, “Your house sixer, a proper guest like me will leave when asked.”

His smile grew as he ‘accidentally’ bumped into a small table and knocked over some Bunsen burners and glass vials making Fidds jump onto the desk behind him to avoid stepping the glass spilled near him.

“I’ll be back when you have calmed down and we can discuss this in a more civil manner.”

With that he left them with the mess. Fidds knew this wouldn’t be the last they saw of him but he could breathe a little easier seeing the determination in Ford’s eyes that told him his husband was done listening to the likes of Bill Cipher.

Fidds stared at the sea of broken glass his husband wouldn’t let him near with no shoes on wondering if this is what would become of his dreams, all because of him.

Once the glass was cleared up Ford left the lab leaving Fidds behind as he sat at his desk, taping his blue prints back together. He kept telling himself and his husband it was all salvageable in his best impression of being hopeful. In a way he was, Bill was gone for now, at least for a little while, they could finally work in peace.

He went looking for his husband as his eyes grew tired and he only longed to sleep. He frowned finding him in the kitchen.

Ford stood leaning over the sink, just staring at the skeleton of his future institution. Fidds felt guilt flaring inside him, it was his fault that dream may be dead and its rotting corpse would always loom over them, forever casting a shadow over their lives.

He walked forward, pushing back every burst of anxiety, Ford sacrificed so much just for him, the least he could do is stand by him. He pressed himself against his husband and kissed his ear lobe whispering an apology.

Ford said nothing, reaching one hand back to stroke the hair ticking against his cheek now, eyes never leaving the structure.

“We’re smarter then him,” he said firmly, “We’ll work something out.”

He turned his head away from the structure before slamming the curtains shut in frustration, making Fidds jump. He pulled him close to him and kissed his nose in apology, leading him back out of the kitchen to head back to bed.

Taking a glance back at the moonlight still creeping into the kitchen and shadowed outline of his legacy before shaking his head and assuring his husband they hadn’t failed just yet.

“What’s a little more time, dearest?”

#Fiddauthor #ford squared #Fiddleford appreciation month #fiddleford mcgucket #old man Mcgucket #bill cipher #human bill #stanford pines #gravity falls #Dan's fics

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thejokersenigma · 7 years

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Ed Nygma x Reader - Opposites Attract - Part 1

Hello everyone - this is a new little thing i started last night when i didn’t feel 100% into writing the next part of Deadly Voice but I wanted to write so i started randomly typing random stuff and it formed into this idea.

Its my first Ed Nygma Fanfic so if you guys like it let me know and I’ll continue it as I have a very vague idea where to take it - if I do continue it I might change the title as this was a very last minute title!

So yeah - let me know what you think and if I should keep going - also if anyone has any requests I am willing to give anything a go! Comments are welcome as always!

Enjoy! :)

Masterlist

OA MASTERLIST

[Y/N] tackled her hair into a ponytail before she then spun it into a bun on the back of her head. She checked it in the mirror and hid a few stray strands behind her ear, 5thtimes the charm she thought as she finally accepted her hair for what it was for the day and wandered out of the bathroom to finish getting her bag ready.

Her worn out leather satchel squatted on one of the mis-matched kitchen chairs that were placed randomly around a wobbly table that sat in the middle of the kitchen. She dug through the bag pushing aside random crumpled pieces of paperwork from god-knows-how-long-ago. She pulled out a few that were in the way and quickly glanced over them – unimportant – they could sit on the table till she got back later and had time to decide to ignore them (as she knew would happen).

[Y/N] blindly pushed her arm to the bottom of the bag searching with her fingers for anything that might be attached to her key chain. She felt her hand brush over something fluffy and she grabbed it, pulling it up to revel the limb of a small teddy and the rest of a rather cluttered key chain. It got hooked on a few pockets and a set of headphone wires on the way up, but after a few tugs they were left them hanging free from her hand.

[Y/N] then grabbed her simple fabric purse from the counter top and threw it randomly on top of everything else in her bag before seizing a fleece that hung from the back of the random wicker chair by the table and turning the door knob of the front door.

She pulled the door open, but was jerked to a stop when the door didn’t open. “Err, come on, I’m gonna be late!” she growled at the door. She bent down pulled the door bolt back. Then tried again and at last the door opened.

Just as [Y/N] pulled it inwards she paused and dashed back to grab her phone she had left on the table, then headed back out the partially opened door into the dark morning, keys and phone in hand.

Finally out of the house [Y/N] locked her door behind her before walking up the steep hillside of Gotham, unknotting her headphone wires and attempting to shove the buds in her ear in the exact way so that they would stay in.

She never bothered with public transport. She hated the crush and the poor reliability of a bus, but couldn’t afford a car. Not that she really needed one – yeah, she hated lugging her groceries home, but at least she didn’t fork out a load of money each week for fuel. Especially as, at the moment, she needed every penny she could get.

The walk to her little café was at least half an hour on a good day though – a day where the pedestrian crossings were on her side and she had the energy and motivation to power walk. A bad day was going on an hour. Luckily at this time of the morning there wasn’t too much traffic around and her journey was relatively peaceful. Though this was Gotham, where crime was at an unbelievably high rate, she felt safe wandering through the dark at this time – hell criminals had to sleep too.

As she rounded the corner of a street she caught site of her little corner café. She had to admit it wasn’t the best place for a business like hers. It sat on the corner of a quiet little road a few streets away from the roaring trade of the high-street.

It was hard enough running a café with all the competition that now filled every other business lot, but it was even harder when she wasn’t even in a good location. It made drawing in customers even harder than usual and so it was a constant work in progress to come up with something unique to draw people away from the busy centre. This something still eluded her and was what filled her old notebook she kept in her office.

The customers she did were mainly regulars - either old acquaintances or friends of a friend or family member. She rarely saw a new face, and if she did it was only to point them in the direction of the main hub of shops or point them to a back street car park they had parked in but had lost among the winding streets.

She sighed loudly as she reached the door of her quaint little shop. She shook out her key chain to dislodge the keys caught up in the metal rings and then examined each one, looking for the right one in the dull early morning light for the archaic metal lock.

Eventually she let herself in and tapped her way through the few tables that lined the front of shop, her grubby daps slapping across the fake wooden floorboards. She switched on the lights, illuminating the central room. Like her house, none of the furniture in here matched, but [Y/N] liked to think that it gave the place a bit of character and didn’t want to admit to herself that it was actually because she couldn’t afford anything better.

She made her way behind the counter and leant herself against the door frame of one of the two small rooms at the back of the café. This one functioned as her staff room and office and she threw her purse on the lone moth-eaten sofa that sat in the corner before pushing herself back out into the main room again. She strode around the small working space turning on machines and the cooling display cabinet before entering the other small back room.

In here was her storage room and kitchen. It contained a large industrial sized oven and fridge as well other baking appliances and a walk in cupboard she used for food storage.

An so it was, at 5am, [Y/N] pulled out her prepped batters and dough from the night before, cleared a space on her cramped work surfaces, and scrubbed her hands, before getting to work on prepping and baking for the day, stifling her yawns with the arm of her sleeve.

After hours of prep, baking, cooling and decorating, [Y/N] had drunk 3 cups of coffee and everything was ready for opening. Her coffee machine was humming, her sandwiches were on display in her chilled display cabinet and her cakes and pastries were on show in their air-tight stands.

She walked round the edges of the café, pulling the dark green blinds to reveal the high-reaching windows which made up the front walls and then righted the chairs that sat upside down on each table. Once she was happy with how the store looked she pulled the final blind on the café door to expose an open sign hanging in a miniature window at head height. She then moved back behind the counter to await her first customer for the day.

Edward Nygma stood before Officer Trent’s desk waiting for the man to return from wherever he currently was so that Ed could deliver a report on the stabbing of a 38 year old Caucasian male. Officer Trent and Officer Dougherty were both working the case, but Ed wanted to avoid Officer Dougherty as much as possible now that he was dating Miss Kringle. Even the very thought of their relationship sent a way of jealousy through him and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined Dougherty when he had been stabbing some watermelon the night before to test a theory of his.

Don’t think like that! He chided himself – he knew that was the other him - the him that needed to stay buried. Are you really surprised Miss Kringle chose him over you? Your nothing compared to him! You’re a loser - a nobody! Why not let me out and I’ll show her what she’s missing!

“No.” Ed growled out loud causing a few officers to look up from their desks. However, on seeing it was Ed Nygma they no longer found it interesting and soon had their head buried back in their work. Ed flushed red in embarrassment.

“Nygma!” Greeted Officer Trent from behind as he strode up to his desk.

“Officer Trent –“, Ed paused as he saw the man following up behind Trent, “and Officer Dougherty.” Greeted Ed a little less enthusiastically.

“Riddle man!” Exclaimed Officer Dougherty -naively cheerful in Ed’s opinion.

They both looked at him expectantly, “Oh – uh – I have results on the victim – the killer used a rounded blunt object and would have been right handed.” He stated handing over the documents in his hands that contain the details of the case.

“Thanks Riddle man.” Acknowledged Dougherty and Trent nodded as he took the file and flicked through the papers

“Great.” An awkward silence fell over the group of men and the two officers exchanged looks, clearly wanting Ed to leave, but instead Ed spoke up,

“No sooner spoken than broken.”

“What?” Asked Trent, his eyebrows creasing in confusion.

“It’s a riddle.” Stated Ed. “No sooner spoken than broken.”

The two officers looked blankly at Ed and he smiled widely – he loved to best people, especially those in higher hierarchical positions then himself. “Silence.” He declared, grinning triumphantly.

“Ah got me again Riddle man!” exclaimed Dougherty cheerfully. Trent grumbled something in agreement. Ed took this as enthusiasm and kept going,

“My life can be measured in hours, I live by being devoured. Thin I am fast, fat I am slow. The wind is always my foe. What am I?”

Just then Harvey Bullock marched up to the gathering around Trent’s desk, “Nygma! Where’s the Marisson report?!” He demanded before tuning into what was going on, “Not more riddles Ed?! Why don’t you make yourself useful and make a coffee run for all of us if you’re that bored.” Ed’s smile dropped instantly. Harvey seemed to take that as confirmation, “I’ll take mine with no sugar and a splash of milk!”

“Black, 2 sugars riddle man” chipped in Dougherty as he walked off towards his desk.

“Black for me.” added Trent sitting down at his desk with the case folder.

“Best get to it then Ed!” Joked Harvey, “Oh and don’t forget that report as well!” he called back as wandered back the way he had come leaving Ed stood alone. “A candle.” Ed mumbled, answering his own riddle as he walk off, his mood now having plummeted.

He made his way slowly around the precinct collecting orders for coffee. He hadn’t been stuck with the coffee run for a very long time – not since his first year on the job. Usually it was the intern’s job to get them out from under the precincts feet and it insulted Ed that he had to be subjected to the menial task. No one appreciates you here! They wouldn’t even notice if you never came back from the coffee run!

Ed shook away his other voice as grabbed his coat and scarf from his office. You know if you just let me out you’d never have to do this. They would never even think about asking you to fetch the coffee. People would respect you. “Shut up. I don’t need your help!” he growled at the shadowy figure stood behind his desk. Before turning away and storming back out of his office and striding through the centre of the station, everyone ignoring him as usual.

He stopped when he stepped outside, the cold air slammed into him and he wrapped his navy scarf tight around his neck and pulled on his black gloves. He didn’t even know where the coffee usually came from. He would just find the nearest coffee shop, pick up the dam coffee and put the whole situation down to experience –he shouldn’t talk to the officers until the coffee round was done – that way he wouldn’t run the risk of being subjected to this again.

If he recalled correctly from his lunch time walks there was a café a few streets down from here. So he headed in the general direction he remembered, the cold biting his exposed cheeks and the wind tousling his dark hair.

After walking for a few minutes he noticed a small café on the corner of the next road that had a sign reading ‘The Cup n’ Saucer’. That would do.

As he got closer he took in the small building. The colour scheme was dark green and white. A 3 foot high brick wall with large, tall windows made up the two sides of the café and folded metal tables and chairs were propped up along the walls for when the weather was more pleasant. In Ed’s opinion it looked a bit out of place in Gotham - it was too pretty and picturesque for these dirty and polluted streets.

He walked to the painted white door and pushed it open stepping into a wall of warmth that engulfed him and fogged his glasses slightly. He paused in the doorway to allow his sight to clear, untied his scarf so it hung freely around his neck and removed his gloves, stuffing them into one of his coat pockets.

Once he could see clearly again he made his way to the deep green coloured wooden counter stood towards the back of the room. No one was behind the till at the moment and so he waited awkwardly looking around at his surroundings.

The café wasn’t very busy – there were a few young people scattered at tables with laptops illuminating their faces, a middle aged couple sitting at a table in front of one of the front windows and an older gentlemen sitting alone in the corner with a book in his hand.

“Sorry can I help you?” chirped a female voice from in front of him and he stopped his surveillance of the room to focus on the girl before him. She was a bit of a mess really, but a kind of cute mess. Her hair was tied up in a bun on the back of her head but most her hair seemed to have fallen out and was now cascading over her shoulder in curls. She wore a crinkled white blouse under a dark green apron that hung around her frame loosely. She appeared to be covered in specks of flour and some sort of cake mixture.

“Y-Yes um. Some like it hot, some like it cold, some like it mild, some like it bold.” Ed recited, taken off-guard by her sudden appearance causing him to stammer slightly.

“Excuse me?” [Y/N] blinked at the tall scrawny man in front of her. What had he said?

“It’s coffee. The answer is coffee.” He stated. She looked confused – what was coffee? “It’s a riddle.” He explained quickly.

“Oh… Hang on what was it again?” She asked. Ed blinked – she seemed genuinely interested so he repeated it again. “Coffee, ah I get it. Clever.” She grinned at him. He returned the smile; it was nice to have someone appreciate his riddles for once.

They stood in silence for a moment, [Y/N] trying to store the new riddle in her mind so she could try it on her sister later. She then realised she hadn’t taken the odd man’s order yet. “Oh I’m sorry – sp what was it you wanted?”

“Coffee.” He stated smirking slightly as he dug in his coat’s pocket pulling out a torn piece of paper he had scribbled the orders on. He spun it so it faced her and she read the thin slanted scrawl.

“Wow, that’s a lot of coffee!” she exclaimed, there had to be at least 10 different orders here. “Do you think you might have a bit of a caffeine problem?” she joked, though she was a bit concerned.

His brow crinkled in confusion before he realised he hadn’t explained himself, “Oh no, sorry I’m - I work at the GCPD – coffee run.”

Comprehension lit up her face. “Oooooh. That makes more sense.” She said as she turned to start the coffee machine for the first order on the list.

Ed stepped to the side, out of the way of the main counter as he settled in for the long wait. He wanted to keep talking to the unusual girl but he had already learnt his lesson today about bugging people. That’s because you never say the right thing, chimed in his other voice. “Don’t you start.” He mumbled to himself.

[Y/N] looked up and over at the lanky man – had he said something? He wasn’t looking at her so it obviously wasn’t direct to her if he had. Maybe he talked to himself. She couldn’t really judge him for that – she did it sometimes, it was something she had picked up from living alone. She studied the man out of the corner of her eye as she fiddled with the coffee machine in front of her.

He was very tall and thin and wore a dark coat with a navy scarf open around his neck. He had dark hair with a long fringe that was a bit wind swept from the weather so it a few strands hung down onto his face and across his browlined glasses.

He would be here for a while judging by the amount of coffee he wanted – maybe she ought to entertain him with a bit of chat, it wasn’t like she had anything else to do - she doubted she have any new customers for a while.

“So are you a police officer then?” she questioned glancing over her shoulder. Ed’s head shot up in surprise at the question.

“Uh, no – no I’m forensics.” He corrected, pushing his glassed up his nose with a long slim finger.

“Ah – dead bodies.” She said simply with a small smile. “Is it also part of your job to fetch the coffees as well then?” she asked innocently. This irked Ed a bit. What was that suppose to mean? He was no menial coffee boy. She is being disrespectful – do something! Put her in her place – don’t let her talk to you like that – she’s only a barista!

“No it is not.” He snapped annoyed. [Y/N] flinched at his sudden change in tone. His eyes had gotten darken and seemed almost swallowed by the shadow of his brow.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to insult you – it was more of a joke really.” She apologised, regretting her words. She turned back to her work, cursing herself silently for her putting her foot in it. Ed’s face lightened at the apology and he could practically hear his other-self growl at his lack of conviction.

“No I’m – I’m sorry Miss. I – I shouldn’t have snapped.” He stammered, “Bad day.” He clarified. She turned back to him at his explanation.

“I get it – no harm done.” She said sympathetically and Ed was surprised again by the young women – she was very forgiving. There’s nothing to forgive! Snarled the voice. Ed ignored it.

By now [Y/N] had produced 4 coffees from the list and they sat in their cardboard cups on the counter in front of him. “Want to talk about it? I’m no bartender, but I’m the closest thing at this time of day.” She joked but he could tell she was genuinely offering an ear if he wanted.

“Thank you for the offer Miss, but it’s nothing really.” He declined politely – he didn’t want to put his troubles on her pretty little shoulders. She looked at him like she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t push. He liked that.

They fell into companionable silence after that until [Y/N] started working on the last coffee. Whilst the machine grinded the coffee beans behind her, she moved to the counter to add a slash of milk to one of the cups and force a plastic lid on the top. “So which one of these is yours?” she asked casually.

“None of them.”

“You mean you pick up all of these coffees and don’t get one yourself?” she asked bewildered.

“Well I – I mean I could. I just – I.” he paused, “I just make my own.” He finished lamely. She looked at him curiously. The truth was he rarely ever got asked if he wanted a coffee when someone went on a run – he was usually forgotten about hidden away in his back office. It was probably for the best, last time he got a coffee it has tasted like tar. He found it easier now to bring his own which he could make in the staff room in his question mark mug.

“I’ll make you one.” [Y/N] declared smiling at him. He looked taken aback at her boldness, but didn’t argue.

Eventually all the coffees were completed and sat lined up on the counter – [Y/N] had numbered them all with a black marker in the order they appeared on the list so he didn’t mix them up. She found a cardboard box she was sure had been from a delivery of sugar a few weeks ago, and placed them all carefully in so the cups held each other upright. She slid the full box across the counter with the receipt.

“Thank you very much Miss…?” Ed trailed off as he pulled his gloves over his slim hand.

“[L/N], [Y/N] [L/N].”

“Well thank you miss [L/N].” Ed smiled as he shifted the heavy box of the counter and into his long arm.

“No problem.” She smiled back as she followed him to the café door and held it open for him. She watched him walk down the street back towards the police station not realising she was still holding the door and letting all the warmth out the café still a particularly strong gust of bitter cold whipped around her.

“Opps!” she muttered at herself quickly closing the door and returning to the stock checking she had been completing in the storage room before the forensic man had turned up. As she walked past the fridge she caught sight of her reflection in the shiny metal and stopped dead. She was a state! She couldn’t believe the whole time she had been chatting with that man she had looked like this! Look at my hair! Look at all this flour! And – oh my god! Is that a piece of chocolate on my nose?!

She felt her cheeks flush red and pulse speed as she quickly redid her hair and brushed her apron down as much as possible. She splashed some cold water onto her face and scrubbing every inch with a tea towel vigorously as if trying to wash away the shame just as much as the baking products.

Meanwhile Ed had trudging back through the cold wind to the precinct. He had delivered his box of coffee and was now sat down at his desk with his own cup in hand, studying the coffee receipt, making a mental note to give into reception to get it reimbursed. As he looked at it he noticed there were only 10 coffees listed on the piece of receipt, but he had 11 in his box. The one she made for him hadn’t been charged. Did she mean to do that? What if she hadn’t? Should he tell her? Stop overthinking and enjoy the damn drink! His other voice snapped at him.

He took the advice for once. If he saw her again he’d ask - if she had meant to charge him he would just pay then and there. No problem.

He sipped the coffee. It tasted delicious. It had spicy warmth to it and a hint of sweetness – it seemed to exactly match the girl he had met. Miss [Y/N] [L/N].

#ed nygma x reader #nygma x reader #ed nigma x reader #nigma x reader #nigma fanfic #nigma fan fiction #nygma fanfic #nygma fan fiction #gotham nigma #gotham nygma #gotham nygma fan fiction #gotham nigma fan fiction

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socimages · 7 years

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Gender gaps from jobs to athletics: Why did the convergences all stop in the 1980s?

By Tristan Bridges, PhD

Gender gaps are everywhere. When we use the term, most people immediately think of gender wage gaps. But, because we perceive gender as a kind of omni-salient feature of identity, gender gaps are measured everywhere. Gender gaps refer to discrepancies between men and women in status, opportunities, attitudes, demonstrated abilities, and more. A great deal of research focuses on gender gaps because they are understood to be the products of social, not biological, engineering. Gender gaps are so pervasive that, each year, the World Economic Forum produces a report on the topic: “The Global Gender Gap Report.”

I first thought about this idea after reading some work by Virginia Rutter on this issue (here and here) and discussing them with her. When you look for them, gender gaps seem to be almost everywhere. As gender equality became something understood as having to do with just about every element of the human experience, we’ve been chipping away at all sorts of forms of gender inequality. And yet, as Virginia Rutter points out, we have yet to see gender convergence on all manner of measures.Indeed, progress on many measures has slowed, halted, or taken steps in the opposite direction, prompting some to label the gender revolution “stalled.” And in many cases, the “stall” starts right around 1980. For instance, Paula England showed that though the percentage of women employed in the U.S. has grown significantly since the 1960s, that progress starts to slow in the 1980s. Similarly, in the 1970s a great deal of progress was made in desegregating fields of study in college. But, by the early 1980s, about all the change that has been made had been made already. Changes in the men’s and women’s median wages have shown an incredibly persistent gender gap.

A set of gender gaps often used to discuss inherent differences between men and women are gaps in athletic performance – particularly in events in which we can achieve some kind of objective measure of athleticism. In Lisa Wade and Myra Marx Ferree’s Gender: Ideas, Interactions, Institutions, they use the marathon as an example of how much society can engineer and exaggerate gender gaps. They chart world record times for women and men in the marathon over a century. I reproduced their chart below using IAAF data (above left).

In 1963, an American woman, Merry Lepper, ran a world recording breaking marathon at 3 hours, 37 minutes, and 7 seconds. That same year, the world record was broken among men at 2 hours, 14 minutes, and 28 seconds. His time was more than 80 minutes faster than hers! The gender gap in marathon records was enormous.

A gap still exists today, but the story told by the graph is one of convergence. And yet, I keep thinking about Virginia Rutter’s focus on the gap itself. I ran the numbers on world record progressions for a whole collection of track and field races for women and men. Wade and Ferree’s use of the marathon is probably the best example because the convergence is so stark. But, the stall in progress for every race I charted was the same: incredible progress is made right through about 1980 and then progress stalls and a stubborn gap remains.

Just for fun, I thought about considering other sports to see if gender gaps converged in similar ways. Above right is the world record progression for men and women in a distance swimming event – the 1500-meter swim.

The story for the gender gap in the 1500-meter swim is a bit different. The gender gap was smaller to begin with and was primarily closed in the 1950s and early 60s. Both men and women continued to clock world record swims between the mid-1950s and 1980 and then progress toward faster times stalled out for both men and women at around that time.

One way to read these two charts is to suggest that technological innovations and improvements in the science of sports training meant that we came closer to achieving, possibly, the pinnacle of human abilities through the 1980s. At some point, you might imagine, we simply bumped up against what is biologically possible for the human body to accomplish. The remaining gap between women and men, you might suggest, is natural.

Here’s where I get stuck… What if all these gaps are related to one another? There’s no biological reason that women’s entry into the labor force should have stalled at basically the same time as progress toward gender integration in college majors, all while women’s incredible gender convergence in all manner of athletic pursuits seemed to suddenly lose steam. If all of these things are connected, it’s for social, not biological reasons.

Tristan Bridges, PhD is a professor at The College at Brockport, SUNY. He is the co-editor of Exploring Masculinities: Identity, Inequality, Inequality, and Change with C.J. Pascoe and studies gender and sexual identity and inequality. You can follow him on Twitter here. Tristan also blogs regularly at Inequality by (Interior) Design.

#marathon running #swimming #1500 meter swim #gender gap #stalled revolution

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behindthespotlightfic · 7 years

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chapter 8

Heya! It’s me at last. I’m not really proud of this chapter but I hope you all like it anyway! Remember, you can click on the links to listen to the songs and watch the videos!

----

It’s Monday, half past one PM. I’m sitting in a bench of the Terminal 6, in the LAX airport. Finn’s plane is due to land in five minutes, and I have a book on my hands which I’ve been reading for half an hour. It’s called The Goldfinch, and it was a gift from Clara, who’s been visiting me almost every day; the days she didn’t come to my house, it was me who went to hers. And just like an older sister, I’ve been taking care of her. Not in a motherly way, but in a “I’m your sis, let’s be cool together” kind of way. And things are okay-er right now: she can try and forget everything for almost half an hour now… which is great progress, actually.

Me, I’ve been working on four or five projects, including music videos and internet adverts. Not all projects are interesting or fun to work on, but this time I’ve hit the jackpot and I’ve been hired to edit videos by Bastille and the Orwells, both alternative bands. I’m not really acquainted with them, but it’s been an opportunity to get to know their music. The rest of the work, it’s not really worth mentioning it: shampoo commercials and such.

I’ve been playing the guitar as well, and even though I have no plans on doing anything worthwhile with it, I feel at peace when I do it. It’s a bit like being with Finn, but in a more introspective way, like it’s just me, myself and I there, and I can mess up however I mess up, I can try whatever I like, and nothing will change nor will anybody judge me for it.

Don’t misinterpret me, I still remember Anthony’s words, but I guess I’m just not ready to show myself to the world like that, even if an hypothetical band of mine was never successful. And I’m fine with it.

The screen over the boarding gate lights up (“SAN DIEGO, 11:34am - LANDED”), and a voice reads it out loud through the speakers. Immediately, a tiny butterfly starts fluttering in my stomach, and I stand up, putting the book back in my handbag. It has been barely a weekend, but, to be fair, I’ve missed Finn quite a lot. We’ve texted each other and even skyped one or two times, but nothing compares to him being by my side, flesh and bones.

I recognize his silhouette almost immediately; how couldn’t I? His tousled hair is inevitably familiar to me, the glasses hanging from his tee’s collar are as they were last week. I haven’t approached a single step to the gate, but he sees me now, and I don’t need to. A warm smile appears on the lips of the both of us, and when he reaches me, he just stands there, barely no distance between him and me.

“Finn”, I say, mischievously.

“Yes?”

“Welcome”. And I kiss him, and it feels like it’s been a month since that last tour night in Vienna. I wrap my arms around him, and he hugs me in return. “How’s the journey been?”

“Kinda long… you know?”

I laugh. “Come on, it’s only an hour from here.”

“Every place is too far if it’s away from you”, he sighs. “I’m seriously thinking of moving.”

“Really? After knowing me for only a month?”

He laughs. “Okay”, he says, “maybe I’d think a bit more about it, but… you know, I really wanted to see you again.”

When Finn laughs, it’s like the world stops and shines a light on him. That carefree laugh he has, the way his lips open wide, the chuckling sound… it all melts me to the ground.

And I can’t help but kiss him again.

“Come on”, I say when we break apart, grabbing his suitcase, “let’s go home.”

I drive, with an old R.E.M. record playing, and we chat and talk about the last three days, as comfortably as we did when we were just friends. With him, it’s like I’m talking to a really good friend… Except I like him a bit differently, and I get to kiss him, and all that cool stuff.

“this one goes out to the one I love…”

The singer’s voice sounds really sure of what he’s saying, but even though I really don’t wanna stop that train in which Finn and I are travelling to the speed of light, I’m still not completely free from doubt. I’m really sure of my friendship, of this I am. But who knows, I’ve only been with him a week or so. It might be only a fling, some kind of passing attraction. Because he’s truly attractive, and not only by his looks. He may be completely serious and the next second be laughing like his life depended on it. He’s unpredictable in a good way, and it’s no wonder he’s had so many girlfriends over the years. 34 years a heartthrob, what else can he do…! But whether this is a simple affair or something more, I’m okay with it.

The airport’s forty minutes from my home, so we have plenty of time to sing along. We go through the whole album and a single by the Orwells (Black Francis, the song I edited the music video for), and when we arrive, it’s something special. I’m eager to show him my house, and he just walks around, saying nothing. He’s very serious, and I wonder what he’s thinking of. After a slow stroll, he sits down on a step of the stairs and looks me in the eye. When I’m about to ask him if he’s okay, if I should worry, he talks at last.

“You know what?” he says with a smile, “I lived here.”

My astonishment is almost immediate.

“Really?” I laugh.

“I’m serious, Amy!” he grins. “Back in 2007, when I was fighting my way to where I am now, I lived in LA for a year and a half. Mankind will never get to know the bands I worked for, as most of them were too tiny and disappeared in barely six months, but look at me now…”

“But… it’s such a coincidence” I say, almost to myself. I moved here in 2009, so the house might have had lots of owners before me.

“I know!” he agrees. “I was freaked out too when you told me that was your house. It’s nearly scary.”

We can’t help but giggle at our fortuite fate.

“You have it way more organized than I did, by the way. I was a complete mess when I was young.”

“I can imagine it”, I smirk.

He stands up, and we look at each other for a moment, not saying anything. But my resolute self takes over.

“Do you want to have lunch here and have a walk around later, or do you prefer going out for lunch right now?”

Finn pretends to think, but I can see he’s slowly getting closer to me, eyes stabbing me, half-a-grin in his lips. I play his game, pretending not to notice.

“I think we could order something, don’t you?”

But just when he’s about to kiss me, I get away from him.

“Alright, then we’d better call before they close at the pizza place.”

I laugh and run to the kitchen, where I call from my mobile phone. But Finn doesn’t give up, and just when I’m asking for a medium-sized pepperoni, I feel him softly biting my collarbone. I feel a shiver down my spine, but I keep on talking.

“Yes, I’m in Central, not far from your restaurant”, I say. When I’m about to tell the man on the phone my address, though, I feel my voice crack up a tiny bit. He’s moved onto my neck, and with each time it gets more intense.

“Okay, half an hour, alright… thank you” I finish. He’s been kissing my neck for the whole time of the call now, and I just can’t help it, I’m sunk, I’m done. As always, he’s mischievous and he loves it. And I do too.

By the time the sun sets, we’ve made love (both before and after having that pizza I ordered), we’ve drifted around Silver Lake -the district, as well as the meadow next to the actual lake- and we’ve had a cocktail and some chips from a food truck.

And I feel fine, like all my problems didn’t matter. It’s because of Finn, yes, but not only; Los Angeles is a city in which everyone can feel at home. My homeland is and will always be England, alright, but L.A. truly comes close. And ever since I moved here, I’ve felt it as if it was my city, my comfort zone, a place to where I can return and feel safe and sound. It’s a place where I can freely develop myself, and every time I come back from touring, I love seeing it again and walking through its streets.

I suppose Anthony knew what he was talking about when he sang that it was his companion. Because it’s become mine too.

#red hot chili peppers #red hot chili peppers fanfiction #red hot chili peppers fic #red hot chili peppers fanfic #rhcp #rhcp fanfiction #rhcp fanfic #rhcp fic #music #band fanfiction #bandfic #band fic #band fanfic #bands #chapters

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erraticfairy · 5 years

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12 Depression Busters for New Moms

It’s supposed to be the most exciting time of your life … and everyone is telling you how lucky you are to have a beautiful baby, but all you can do is cry. You’re pretty sure none of your new-mom friends are feeling this way. But they might be. Because 15 to 20 percent of new moms, about 1 million women in the US each year, experience some form of postpartum depression.

Truth be told, my baby days were the most difficult and painful hours of my life. I was a hormonal and stress train wreck. Looking back now–my youngest is five–I see that a few alterations in my lifestyle might have helped matters. I’ll share them with you, so that you don’t have to feel so bad … or, you know, all alone.

1. Say it … “Yikes.”

Take a moment to consider all that has changed in your life. Your social life is … poof … gone, not to mention your sex life and any romance that was left in your marriage. You don’t remember becoming a Navy Seal but, like them, you operate on about three consecutive hours of sleep at night. Plus there is this seven-pound creature that you are responsible for – and let’s just say it’s more demanding than the fern in your kitchen that will forgive you if you forget to water it for a day or so. Oh yeah, that adorable, Gerber baby is louder than the Winnie the Pew keychain one of your frenemies bought you. But the very act of registering all the modifications can be surprisingly comforting … like proof that you’re not imagining it: you’ve entered another world, and you definitely don’t speak the language.

2. Identify the symptoms.

At some point, you’re going to need to distinguish symptoms of the new-mom culture shock and its accompanying baby blues from a bona fide mood disorder. You can find a list of the standard symptoms for postpartum depression by clicking here, but better than that, I think, is the description actress Brooke Shields gives in her memoir, “Down Came the Rain”:

At first I thought what I was feeling was just exhaustion, but with it came an overriding sense of panic that I had never felt before. Rowan kept crying, and I began to dread the moment when Chris would bring her back to me. I started to experience a sick sensation in my stomach; it was as if a vise were tightening around my chest. Instead of the nervous anxiety that often accompanies panic, a feeling of devastation overcame me. I hardly moved. Sitting on my bed, I let out a deep, slow, guttural wail. I wasn’t simply emotional or weepy, like I had been told I might be. This was something quite different. This was a sadness of a shockingly different magnitude. It felt as if it would never go away.

3. Start talking.

Journalist Tracy Thompson begins her insightful book, “The Ghost in the House” with two brilliant lines: “Motherhood and depression are two countries with a long common border. The terrain is chilly and inhospitable, and when mothers speak of it at all, it is usually in guarded terms, or in euphemisms.” Which is why you need to start talking …. often, for long periods of time, and loudly. But with safe people.

4. Find safe people.

How do you find these so-called “safe people” who won’t report you to the pope or child services for saying things like you want your body back, you want your old life back, and at times you wonder if you made the right decision by having sex with your husband without a birth control method in place? That’s tough, and like so much else in life, you just need to feel your way through. I personally look for a sense of humor. Any mom who can laugh at the squash stains on her new Ann Taylor sweater is a candidate. The mom who left the playgroup 15 minutes early to get in the half-hour pre-nap ritual is definitely not.

5. Get support.

Once you identify five or six suitable moms who aren’t too annoying, it’s time to start a support group, known in some parts of the country as a “playgroup.” It can be fewer than five or six, but you should be able to corral lots of takers if you hang out long enough at your library’s children’s hour, Tumble Tots or some other gymnastics class, or attend any workshops or social events organized by national mom groups like “Professional Moms at Home.”

Me? I walked around my neighborhood and put a flyer into the mailboxes of homes in which I could see a stroller. I also posted signs at a local office supply store, coffee shop, and diner. Once ten moms confirmed interest, I hosted a playgroup every Wednesday morning at my house. For a year. The group eventually disbanded when I asked folks to take turns hosting because my house was getting too trashed. It didn’t matter, though, because it had served its purpose: which was NOT to help our children socialize–that’s only what we claimed–but to provide an outlet for us to spill our guts because many of us were absolutely going crazy.

6. Beg for help.

In her informative book, “A Deeper Shade of Blue,” Ruta Nonacs, M.D., Ph.D., writes: “One of the most challenging aspects of caring for young children is the social isolation. In traditional cultures, a woman’s family fathers around the mother after the birth of a child. They help her learn how to care for her child … Nowadays most women with young children spend most of their time at home, alone.”

I advise you to get on your knees, to skip all those manners and laws of social grace that keep you from pleading with your in-laws for some help. Barter with them, negotiate, promise to name the next kid after them if they babysit for a night, ANYTHING you possibly can to get some free help because you are going to need it, and the less of it you have, the more risk for developing a serious mood disorder. If your relatives are unable to assist, buy the help. Cash out the retirement funds for this one. Trust me. You’ll be glad you did.

7. Sleep. No really … sleep.

Part of the reason I’m so adamant that you get help is because the longer you stay sleep-deprived the better chance you have of winding up like me … in a pysch ward. Brain experts have always made the connection between insanity and insomnia, but new research suggests that chronic sleep disturbances actually cause certain mood disorders. You stay up one too many nights with that crying baby, and you are bait for a mental illness. Not to scare you. But, again, BEG FOR HELP so that you can at least get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep … consistently. Don’t follow in my tracks and get your first night of slumber in a hospital.

8. Hang unto you.

The second biggest mistake I made as a new mom was throwing my old self into a locked closet until, well, I graduated from the outpatient hospital program, where I learned that motherhood doesn’t require chucking my prior existence: my interests, my friends, my career, and so forth. In fact, the nurses there convinced me that if I could recover a little of my old self, I might even be a better mom. So I hired a babysitter for a few hours a week, which allowed me to pursue some writing projects, go on an occasional bike ride, and have coffee with a non-mom friend and talk about something other than poop.

9. Watch your language.

I’m not talking about the profanities that you’re no longer allowed to utter in front of the miniature tape recorder disguised as your infant. I’m referring to your self-talk. Erika Krull, a mental-health counselor who blogs for Psych Central, wrote this in a recent blog on motherhood and depression: “It’s the combination of ‘must, can’t, won’t, should, could’ kinds of thoughts with the high level of emotion that can send moms down into the pit of depression or anxiety. Black and white thinking is a setup for disappointment, despair, lack of satisfaction and meaning, and low self worth.”

10. Eat brain food.

I hate to be a killjoy here, because I know that you’ve already had to say bye-bye to lots of pleasures in your life. But here’s the thing: the more stressed and sleep-deprived you are, the more inclined you are to grab for the chips and the cookies. Research has actually confirmed that: sleep deprivation and stress both contribute to obesity. It’s a vicious cycle, because the more chips and cookies you consume, the more out of control your world spins, and so forth.

Ideally, you want to shoot for lots of omega-3 fatty acids, vitamin B-12, and folate. Unfortunately, they’re not hiding in a Hershey’s dark chocolate bar. If I were God, I would change that. You can find omega-3 fatty acids in boring but tasty things like salmon, tuna, sardines, walnuts, canola oil, and flaxseed. Vitamin B-12 is found in fish, seafood, meat, poultry, eggs, and dairy products. Folate is found in fortified cereals, spinach, broccoli, peanuts, and orange juice. Your brain will thank you.

11. Get online.

You’re lucky, in that cyberspace is pretty much ruled by new moms. A few years ago I attended a BlogHer conference, where approximately 80 percent of the blogs represented were mommy blogs. In fact, the BlogHer site is a good place to start if you want to know what other moms are experiencing and writing about. Other winners: The Motherhood, CafeMom, Maternally Challenged, Postpartum Progress, and Dooce.

12. Don’t lose your sense of humor.

If one thing saved me during those years my kids were babies it was a sense of humor. “If we couldn’t laugh, we would all go in sane,” sings Jimmy Buffet. So, if you have already gone in sane, it’s best to snicker at the madness in front of you. Ah, the relief I felt some of those afternoons, once all the tension held in my shoulders and in my cheeks released into a wild laughter … after I had spent an afternoon chasing two kids at the mall, one with diarrhea and the other hiding underneath the bras in J.C. Penny’s lingerie section. Flexing that humor muscle … it’s as important as the tight abdominal muscles that you’ll never get back.

from World of Psychology http://bit.ly/2JBMvFZ via theshiningmind.com

#World of Psychology #child psychology

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positivepsychologyinterventions · 5 years

Text

12 Depression Busters for New Moms

1. Say it … “Yikes.”

2. Identify the symptoms.

3. Start talking.

4. Find safe people.

5. Get support.

6. Beg for help.

7. Sleep. No really … sleep.

8. Hang unto you.

9. Watch your language.

10. Eat brain food.

11. Get online.

12. Don’t lose your sense of humor.

from World of Psychology http://bit.ly/2JBMvFZ via IFTTT

#IFTTT #World of Psychology

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