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lovee-infected · 4 years

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Hello! Any ideas on what each twst guy's love language might be?

Separating this request into two parts because the full post would've gotten too long.

Riddle Rosehearts

Giving: Quality time

He's the leader of not simply one the seven dorms in Night raven college but it's Heartslabyul; the dorm ran following the severely strict rules set by the Queen of hearts . Do have any idea how much he's got to do? He's got thousand to take care of everyday , so make sure that he's got no time to waste on anything, or anyone.

As he still decides to keep a certain time of day to spend with you; even if it's summarised in small talks or aimple activities like having afternoon tea together while asking you about your day, you should know that it's way more notable than it seems to be. He could've just sent you a bouquet of roses without caring to disturb his daily schedule because of you, and you would be satisfied anyway, yet he still finds you just as important as his daily plans as both a student and a dorm leader.

Let it be him just inviting you for a walk in the flower garden, all that matters is having you around because, he cares to let you know that he's always there for you when you need him and enjoys spending his time beside you; even if can't be for any more than a few minutes.

Receiving: Words of affirmation

Tell him anything he needs to hear. Tell him that he's good enough. Let him know that you believe in him and you think that he's doing good enough. Words effect this boy a lot more than they seem to; a very simple compliment can be either the cause of his overblot or what takes away the pain and tiredness of a busy gloomy day.

Because of being raised under strict rules and extreme critiques on his behaviors, his childhood on its own gives him enough of reasons to be overly protective with the way he's judged through your eyes.

He finds almost all of other love languages pretty useless to receive; Gifts can be given as a sign of a normal friendship, spending time with him might just be your way of wasting time when you have nothing better to do, going out of your way to help him may just be an act of kindness which you're used to; so let him hear you way you say you love him. He needs nothing more than you saying those words.

Trey Clover

Giving: Acts of service

Trey would be the great example of a mature and supportive partner. he's a clever, wise and organized as not only a student but also Heartslabyul's trustworthy vice dorm leader.

Just who can help you better than Trey can? And who would be this desperate to help you with anything possible except him? Chores, studies, random tasks, etc. He isn't going to wait for you to ask, he's always ready to give you a hand with anything you're busy with.

It may end up him having too much to do in his plate, but that's no problem for Trey. He's a reliable and supportive partner whom you can trust with your problems and shared responsibilities; what many people may lack. Trey's responsible and organized nature is what every couple need in a relationship.

Giving & Receiving: Quality time

He loves it whenever you're around and wants to see you feeling the same. While he doesn't expect you, his darling to trouble yourself going out of your way to help him, he -does- care to know whether you enjoy your time spent with him or not.

He isn't forcing himself on you, but he knows that there would be no point in your relationship if you don't like spending time with each other. He wants to know that you love him back and won't easily get tired of him after a short while. He doesn't mind being usually the one to ask you out or invite you for a walk, but he cares for you accept his invite in return; know that nothing cheers him up like your excitement about your time together.

Cater Diamond

Giving: Words of affirmation

He surely has a way with words, doesn't matter whether it's through face-to-face communication or online. Even his good night/good morning texts enough to make his darling blush, he knows how to have you weak.

He's probably one of the flirtiest guys you'd ever get to see; though he's his own reasons to be so: No one ever hates having someone flirting with them. The only thing that matters is 'how you should be flirting with them', which depends on your personality of course, but he's also got some secret tactics of his own which work on almost anyone.

He doesn't consider lying to be an ideal option when it comes to relationships, where you need to have trust and faith in your partner and be honest and reliable in return, but just saying: a bit of flirting won't hurt, right? To add to that, nice yet not possibly true compliments may motivate you to grow a stronger sight of that aspect in your personality and appearance, which is good.

Cater would probably make you not only feel more confident about yourself, but also trust and love Cater like you love no one; to he point of needing him to talk to you everyday, not that Cater does it all in purpose to make you bound to him but you can tell that...he appreciates being your favorite.

Receiving: Gifts

Just by looking at his room you can tell how much loves fancy things. From oval shaped accessories to chibi plushies and pillows. He not only loves being given new things but also cares to know your taste in gifts; especially the way you guess what Cater might like when choosing the gift. On the other hand he enjoys receiving your attention through gifts which makes him feel loved and, well, superior.

Doesn't matter whether he likes your gift or not, he'd always greet you with a bright smile and a soft kiss on cheek, telling you how much he loves you and what you gave him. There's a high possibility of him disliking what you gave him but - well, you're never going to know what he truly thinks anyway.

Ace Trappola

Giving: Physical touch

Holding hands ,giving hugs, poking cheeks, etc. Physical touch isn't always supposed to be dirty, he just needs to be close to you not just as a friend but also as a lover.

Friends can't kiss you on the lips when they realize how much they love you or hold you tightly in they're embrace when they're feeling like crying. He doesn't want to be -just- a friend, Ace wants to be closer; in fact, the closest one to you. His desire to touch you, hold you, kiss you; like no one else can ever do.

A lover is supposed to be treated differently, right? It's because they're special; therefore he'd get the chance to be closer to you than anyone else can. Ace doesn't want you to treat him and your other friends equally, he wants to be the only one allowed to hold your hand and hug you from behind; your one and only exception.

Receiving: Quality time

He enjoys his time with you the way he enjoys it with no one. You're the coolest , greatest and trustworthiest person he's ever seen; nothing would cheer him up better than seeing you willing to spend time with him as much as does.

It's such a blessing getting to be the one you choose to have around while there are hundreds of cooler students out there. It makes Ace feel special. Not only is hanging out with you the best time he'd ever get to have but it's also a sign of you at least -liking- him; which means that he's actually got a chance.

Deuce Spade:

Giving: Acts of service

What's the point of talking without doing anything? As he loves you, he needs to prove it through what he does for you and how far he gets with it. He's always willing to go out of his way for you even if what you're asking for is -too much- for him. If it's a chance to help you, why not? Doesn't matter what the task is, he'd always try his best.

He might goof up even with easy tasks like lending you his notes or getting you a smoothie but still , be wasy on him and know that he's trying his best for you.

Receiving: Quality time

To Deuce , someone like you is pretty hard to find. Someone he can feel this close and comfortable with...is almost impossible to be found and you're one the most amazing people he has ever seen because of it.

He absolutely adores every single moment you two spend together even if it's past in silence, just having you around is enough to make him feel better.

He sometimes invites you for walks when he's really stressed out, just to have an opportunity to talk to you. You always seem to help him by just listening to Deuce and not letting him keep it in. He's a young boy with a busy mind, he surely needs more of mental support. And the only one who seems to be able to give him the time and attention he needs is you.

Leona Kingscholar

Giving: Quality time

Isn't it obvious? He couldn't care less about the others. It's very rare of him to waste time on anyone when he's got no benfit in it so, if he is still preferring you over his afternoon nap, know that you're special.

He's often finds everything and everyone boring so sleeping sounds way better than having to deal with this uninteresting reality. Spending time with you is a clear proof that in contrast to many people he enjoys having you around, you are different. But note that this isn't enough for him to let go of his lazy nature around you, most of the time it's just him taking a nap on your lap as you spoil him like the lazy cat he always is. When not as tired as usual, he may go for boardgaming or asking you for a walk. He isn't really talkative either, all that matters is that he has has chosen to be spending hid time with you.

He may refuse to admit to it but you seem to calm him down, just walking beside you gives him a sense of feeling better than usual, he doesn't know why. Your presence slowly becomes a routine, to the point of him wanting to see you everyday. And that's how he's slowly becoming obsessed.

Receiving: Acts of service

You're probably aware of his obsession with dominance; to be the first one. Growing up being the second one all over his life has took an important role in shaping his personality; so it isn't really surprising to see that he enjoys ordering people around.

Not that he'd treat you like a slave or someone he looks down to, it's more of him enjoying you spoiling him a lot. He loves attention, especially as it comes from his beloved. He isn't really into ordering you around though, he prefers you to be babysitting him by your own will. At some point it isn't much different from adopting a selfish cat, and his jerky nature isn't helping it either.

Though you should know this better than anyone else; deep inside, he isn't as bad as he seems to be. He's just a baby who seeks attention he's missed during his childhood and it takes someone as passionate and caring as you to deal with him.

Ruggie Bucchi

Giving: Acts of service

Whatever you need, it can't be much worse than what Leona might've asked for, can it? Besides, this time he isn't forced into serving someone because he has to do it. He will be helping you on his own will. He mostly means it as a way to build up a strong relationship through being productive and helpful as a partner

It may start off as a normal friendship, with him often doing nothing more playing around and chilling with you, but soon enough he'll begin to consider you a part of his own family. He may not seem to, but he does take your relationship seriously and finds himself responsible toward you and your life.He may be young, but he's got the spirits of an experienced'family man'. Ruggie is surely one of the most helpful and reliable boyfriends or partners one can ask for.

Receiving: Quality time

No joke when I say he's got the spirits of a family man. Nothing means to him more than spending time with his dear ones does and when it comes to you, you are his dearest. He tries to put your time together into the best possible use, way more than just going for walks or simply chit chatting.

He often decides on something to do with you before hand and if he couldn't come up with anything, he'd ask you for recommendations. Your time spent together may sometimes be short so he can't always go for extravagant plans.

Ice cream dates and afternoon coffees will be pretty common ways of hanging out with him. He always makes sure to order your favorite flavor unless you want to give something new a try. Doesn't really matter how you're spending time together, he never fails to make you smile through it. As long as you're happy, doesn't really matter what you're doing.

Jack howl:

Giving: Acts of service

Nothing less would be expected from our tsundere wolf boy. He's already a best friend to many around him and of course, he's an amazing one; despite his seemingly cold and unfriendly appearance he is pretty caring and protective his friends, from helping them on school work to standing up for them when they're in trouble.

Just imagine how supportive he would be if you two are not simply friends but also lovers this time. He takes no effort in helping you out no matter what the trouble is; buying groceries, studying for an exam, needing help finishing a task or simple stuff like you needing a hug or a piggy back ride.

He often fails to realize this but he's awfully sweet; if you point this out he'd surely blush all of a sudden, turn away his head and tell you that it's not true, not that you are going to buy that though. After all you know better, under those muscles and and rough skin there's an overly fluffy heart.

Giving and receiving: Quality time

Why of course he loves nothing more than spending time with his dear ones, especially his darling. He wants it to be more than just talking and doing nothing special though, that'd be a waste of time when there's hundreds of things he's willing to be doing with you.

Playing games, practicing sports and maybe hanging out with the rest of your friends are his favorites, he often appreciates the lively atmosphere. That somewhat depends on his mood though, sometimes he wants to get rid of the quiet pace and other times, all he needs is to be alone with you as he takes a short nap. He'd love it even more if you play with his tail or rub his ears while he's pretending to be asleep.

Azul Ashengrotto

Giving: Quality time

Running the mostrolounge and managing the whole Octavinelle at the same time is quite hard; you can clearly see that he's much of an overly busy person. If there's one thing Azul prefers over money and power, that'll be you and only you. You can see the big deal here, he's offering you the worthiest thing he's got: his time.

He may not directly address it but he wants to show that he cares for you just as much as he cares for business, that no matter what great powers he's dealing with everyday; you'd still get to have your special time with him alone.

He's pretty considering toward the conversations you'd get to have at this short time; he may enjoy talking about his experiments in mostrolounge or the latest contracts he's made with the students, but in case that you don't really appreciate talking or hearing about them, he'd quickly switch to a topic which would match your tastes, something that'll make you enjoy you time with him. If he's spending time with him, he's got to make sure that it'll be spent well: He'd be a good listener, an understanding partner and in summary, a great lover.

Receiving: Physical touch

His body has always been his weakness; an isolated child afraid of who's been mocked because of his chubby body and now, an affectionate young boy who doesn't know just how sensitive he is to his darling's touch. Even the very simple physical affections such as hugging and forehead kisses would make him melt, he'd refuse to accept but you can clearly see that he's touch starved.

He's got a balance of hating to be touched and wanting it so badly, which mostly depends on the person touching him. It's pretty hard for him to let someone in and even his close friends make him feel insecure sometimes, so he decides to keep his softer parts for you and only you. He does want to be touched but by you and just you. He feels safe in your embrace and loved under your kiss, you can either send him to heavens or set him on fire.

He is weak for you, and this is why you'll br the only one who'd ever get to see this side of him. If he's supposed to be in control it's going to be for you and only you. He belongs to you.

Jade Leech

Giving: Acts of service

You'll be the lady/lord and he'll be the butler, loyal and elegant. Doesn't really need you to be pushing him into it since he enjoys playing the rule of the servant on his own, you can say that he enjoys spoiling you.

Phrasing you is also counted as aprt of his daily duties, never to be forgotten. He makes sure to remind you that he loves you everyday, maybe a small kiss or a wink too alongside of it. Give him the opportunity and he'll help you with almost anything; having your meals prepared, helping you get dressed, shopping, etc.

His favorite would be preparing your morning/afternoon tea or coffee depending on your taste. His main point is to impress you, but he'd appreciate it even more if you are the hard to satisfy type, the more challenging, the better. Sometimes he enjoys being humiliated as well because it encourages him to work harder until he hears that awfully rare 'thank you' from his darling.

Receiving: Quality time

His darling is probably going to be one of the most interesting people he's ever met; not all people get to catch his attention after all. He finds spending time with you not only thrilling but also important; as lovers you two are supposed to be each other's closest friends as well, so what may be more important than spending time together when you've got a choice?

Your time together will usually be spent with you talking and him listening as he loves nothing more than hearing your voice, maybe having something too drink to as you talk. He likes asking you questions; How was your day? Did you get to sleep well last night? Is there anything special you're going to do this afternoon? etc.

Though he's careful not to get to the point of bothering you with them. He often leaves deciding on what you should do together to you, but if it's ever on him it'll most likely end ups being a nature investigation date; mostly mountains and lakes. He'd absolutely love it if his darling is into nature as much he is, that'd be even better if the darling is a mushroom lover! He enjoys finding similar interests between you and him, makes him believe in your relationship being the perfect match even more.

Floyd Leech

Giving: Physical touch

Not to be dirty, but he genuinely enjoys it when you're close, your warm bodies touching and your breaths meeting. As he tightly squeezes you. The feeling is ...priceless.

It's mainly because it's something one can do only with his closest ones; he means to show that he's way more than just a friend. Normal friends won't tightly squeeze each other from behind, normal friends won't give each other pocky kisses and small bites on neck, normal friends would never touch each other like lovers touch, and that's why he wants there to be a difference.

He'd probably be really pissed off he sees anyone but him laying a finger on you. Even as it's just a small hug or friends' handholding. It low-key disgusts him. He wants to be your one and only, no one but him should ever be this close to you.

On the top of that, he has a thing for leaving marks behind~ You probably know how sharp those teeth of his are. He isn't into taking advantage of you, but he loves teasing you. Kissing and biting special spots such as your cheek would be one his favorite although he rarely gives it a try; unless...

Giving and Receiving: Quality time

Just as said, he isn't one to be easily attached to others; therefore his darling is surely someone special in too many terms. No need to be greatly rich or beautiful to attract him, he wants someone whom he finds interesting. Someone he enjoys getting to know better and having his time spent with.

His darling would be one of the very few people who hardly ever tire him, therefore it's always a new adventure when he gets to spend his time with you. He is willing to hear your ideas, see the way you think and possibly, how different you may be compared to Floyd.

Doesn't really matter what you're doing, let it be another study session together or taking his time to check on you after his classes; he'd appreciate it anyway. You willing to spend time with him is a sign of you preferring him over the rest of your friends, you could've been with anyone, yet you chose him. Meanwhile, wants to see his darling as excited as himself about getting to be together, it'll be pretty frustrating if he's the only one enjoying this relationship after all, wouldn't it?

#Twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #Azul Ashengrotto #Trey clover #jade leech #floyd leech #cater Diamond #ace trappola #deuce spade #Jack Howl #Ruggie Bucchi #disney twisted wonderland #TUMBLR DON'T KILL MY TAGS YOU PIECE OF FUCK

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songtoyou · 3 years

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Tempting Fate - Part Five

Paring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Nothing major, but there is lots of smoking, particularly marijuana.

Word Count: 2,098

Story Summary: Tommy is not a believer in fate or destiny. However, a new resident in Small Heath will question his beliefs and push his boundaries outside his comfort zone.

A/N: Remember, this story takes place during season two of the show. May Carleton makes an appearance in this chapter. Once again, I included Romani phrases in this chapter. I found the phrase online and hope it is correct. If it isn’t, then I am profoundly sorry and do not wish to offend anyone. That is never my intent. Remember, there is no Grace or Greta in this fic. They do not exist in the realm of this alternate universe.

Please do not post any of my fics to other sites without my permission.

Tag list: @owenniasstars

You did not know what you and Tommy were to each other. The terms “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” didn’t seem right as it was too mundane and basic. However, you and Tommy had grown a little be closer after you both apologized for miscommunicating with one another. Tommy would often walk you home at night after work and stay the night. It became routine for you to wake up next to him in the morning, which was nice and comforting.

For Tommy, being with you was nothing he had ever experienced before. Before the war, he would go on dates every once in a while, but nothing ever lasted longer than a week or two. After the war, it was all one-night stands or nights spent at whore houses. However, with you, it was all new for him. There was something about being with you that Tommy could not quite describe the feeling until Polly coaxed it out of him.

“Safe. Thomas, you feel safe for the first in a long time. Being with this girl will change your life for the better. She is good for you. The two of you will balance one another, her lightness with your darkness. However, there is a darkness in her as well, just as I can see the light in you, my dear nephew. But make no mistake, it is still in you to do some good in this world. Let her help,” Polly explained one day while Tommy was in his office.

Leaning back in his chair, Tommy could nothing but agree with his aunt, “I know that Pol. Part of me is terrified.” He went on to tell Aunt Polly that he didn’t want to “ruin” you or get you hurt, but Polly waved him off.

“Tommy, she can take care of herself. As a gypsy, she has seen things in her life, just like you. Remember, you said it yourself. She is you. And you are her. You are each other’s match.”

One thing about being connected to Tommy was that people around Small Heath treated you differently. The women smiled at you more, while the men tipped their hats to you and greeted you with “mam” or “miss.” It was all new to you.

Even the male patrons at the bar treated you differently. No longer did they affectionately give you a hard time or joke around with you. They maintained their distance but were respectful. You particularly noticed how the men made sure to act accordingly around you whenever Tommy stopped by The Garrison. It was the same when John and Arthur were around.

You were in the back room of the bar when Esme stopped by one afternoon. She greeted you with a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go for a walk down by the Cut, yeah,” Esme suggested. “It is slow out there. I am sure Harry could give you a break.”

“Okay. Let me finish up these last few glasses, then we can head out,” You replied to the woman who was quickly becoming your best friend. You were thankful to have Esme around. She was another person you could confide in. Esme reminded you of your sisters back home and how much you missed them. You pushed the homesick feeling aside and finished cleaning the last bar glass. Wiping your hands on your apron, Esme followed you to the front of the bar.

You told Harry that you were taking your break. “Harry, I won’t be gone too long, okay.”

“Take your time, dear. I don’t think I’ll be expecting a rush anytime soon,” said Harry wiping down the tables.

While the two you walked arm-in-arm, Esme asked how you were holding up now that you were considered Tommy’s “girl” and all. “I’m not his girl, Esme,” you laughed off your friend’s accusation.

Esme rolled her eyes. “Don’t act naïve now, my dear friend. You are Tommy’s girl. Everyone knows it. He better be treating you right. If he doesn’t, I’ll cut his balls right off.”

“So, far so good. He has been very…I don’t know…” you began but stopped to try to collect your thoughts.

“What?” Esme asked.

“It is like there are two sides to Tommy, you know: public Tommy and private Tommy,” you began to explain. “In public, Tommy is always guarded, which I get. He has to be with what he does. However, when it is the two of us alone, he is something else. He is so sweet and gentle. He smiles more too. And laughs. Tommy has the cutest laugh I have ever heard. So delightful to the ears.”

Esme smiled at her friend and said, “I have never once heard Tommy laugh. Didn’t even know he could do such a thing.”

“So, when are you and John any closer to expanding your family? Lord knows you both like the activity that goes with procreation.”

“Not yet. But hopefully soon. The kids are looking forward to having another brother or sister in the mix. I’m lucky, you know. I was worried that John’s children wouldn’t accept when we got married. I was worried that I would never be able to live up to Martha as a wife or mother,” Esme revealed to you as the two of you finally reached the Cut.

Sitting on a box crate, Esme sat down beside you. She pulled out a rolled cannabis cigarette and began to light it. Coughing out a puff, she passed the joint over to you. “John loves you very much, Esme. The kids adore you. Why wouldn’t they? You are so much fun, so sweet, caring, and they will always have your back. Kids have pure hearts. They can sense when someone is a good person, and you fit the bill. You’re special, my dear. Everyone is lucky to grace your presence sees what a wonderful woman you are.”

Blushing, Esme looked down at her feet. “You could give John a run for his money with the way you can talk a woman up.”

You chuckled and took in a puff. The effects of the rolled cannabis were setting in and making you feel relax and calm. It was a nice feeling. The two of you sat in comfortable silence while passing the joint back and forth.

You and Esme turned heads when commotion came from Charlie’s Yard. “I wonder what is going on over there?” you wondered aloud and handed Esme the joint. “I’m going to go check it out. You want to come along?”

“Nah, I better get back to the house,” said Esme and stubbed out the joint and put it in her pocket. “See you later.”

You waved goodbye and walked over to Charlie’s. You saw him and Curly with Pyramus. Instantly, you saw the horse was agitated. You picked up your speed to reach the horse.

“Hey, what is going on? Is he okay?” you asked, concerned for Pyramus’s well-being.

Charlie told you that they were getting Pyramus ready for transport, but the horse was not up for it.

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” Curly mumbled. “He doesn’t want to leave, Charlie.”

Charlie merely sighed, “Curly, the horse will be fine. He is stubborn as usual, like his owner.”

“May I?” you asked Charlie. When he gave you an okay, you reached out to Pyramus and began rubbing his muzzle. “It’s okay, boy. You’re going to okay. Rum tum bi Salama (Go in peace),” you said to Pyramus softly. “Si tut bocklo? (Are you hungry?)”

You turned to Curly and asked he had any treats for Pyramus. “It might help him calm down. He loves apples or carrots,” you told him.

“I might have some around. I’ll be back,” said Curly and left to retrieve the treats.

You continued to pet Pyramus, which seemed to help calm him for the time being. It only got better when Curly returned with an apple, which you began to cut up for Pyramus to eat. “He seems to be more relaxed.”

All of a sudden, an extra pair of footsteps could be heard approaching. You could make out Tommy’s voice not too far, but there was another voice with him. A feminine voice. One you had not heard before. You quickly turned around to see Tommy walking with a beautiful woman. From the looks of her clothes, you could tell she was wealthy.

When Tommy saw you with Pyramus, he smiled at you and introduced you to the woman, May Carleton. She would be the one to train Pyramus. You shook her hand and offered a ‘hello.’ She went up the horse and began petting him along with you.

You told her that Pyramus tended to respond well with treats when stressed. May smiled at you. “He is a beautiful horse. Overly sweet, but he will make a good racehorse,” May remarked and turned back to Tommy. “The timeline you want the horse ready for Epsom is not much, but I can get him ready.”

You didn’t care for how May only referred to Pyramus as “the horse.” It was like she only viewed him as a job and not one of God’s best creatures. You looked over at Pyramus, and he was happily chomping away at his apple. He was too innocent for a life as a racehorse. The last thing you wanted was for Pyramus to be broken. You could feel the panic start to rise in your chest and your breath start to quicken. You didn’t know if it was anxiety or the joint you just smoked making you feel that way.

“Tommy,” you spoke up and got his attention. You motioned with your hand for him to follow, which he obliged. When the two of you were away from the others, you spoke your concerns. “How much do you know about this May Carleton? Is she trustworthy? What are her methods for training a horse?” you went on, but Tommy silenced you by placing a kiss on your lips.

When Tommy retreated, he cupped your face and looked at you with adoring eyes. “Pyramus will be taken care of, I promise. I would not send him away if I didn’t know that he would be treated well. May’s family has a long history of training racehorses. She knows what she is doing.”

You breathed a sigh of relief at Tommy’s reassurance. Now you felt silly. “I’m sorry for worrying. You probably think I’m childish,” you expressed quietly, looking down at the ground.

Tommy touched your chin to make you look at him directly. His blue eyes always left you breathless. You could drown in them if you stared too long. No amount of alcohol, cannabis, opium, or other drugs could compare to Tommy Shelby’s effects on you. He was addicting. He was handsome. He was dangerous. He was cruel. He was scary. He could also be kind and sweet-tempered. Tommy Shelby was an enigma. He would become a stain on your existence one way or another, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Sijoukar,” you said suddenly.

When Tommy asked who, you scoffed. “May. She is pretty. Don’t you think?”

“Hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar,” you teased. “Even I can admit she is gorgeous. It’s okay. I don’t mind if you think other women are attractive. It is part of human nature.”

With a smirk, Tommy wrapped his arms around you and gave you one last deep kiss. “You better get back to work. I’ll see you late tonight, and I’ll walk you home, yeah.”

He walked you towards the exit with his hand in yours. You waved goodbye to Curly and Charlie and gave a polite nod to May. You didn’t miss the brief look of disappointment on May’s face when she saw you and Tommy walk past her hand-in-hand. You smirked when you passed the woman.

“I’ll tell you what, how about after a couple of weeks, we go visit Pyramus? See how he is doing and all. You and me, together,” suggested Tommy as you both neared the Yard’s exit.

“Really?” you asked, bewildered at Tommy’s idea.

“Why not? It would be our first adventure together. What do you say?”

“I like that idea. Oh, think of a fun and trouble we could get into. I don’t think the world is ready for us, Mr. Shelby,” you laughed and wrapped your arms around Tommy’s shoulders.

Again, kissing you on the lips, Tommy leaned into your ear to whisper, “We are going to set the world on fire, love. You and me, love.”

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic

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vilevampire · 3 years

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“Isn’t it Love?” (One Shot)

Thank you @ducksoup17 for helping me beta read this :) Rating: General audiences Trigger Warnings: Panic attacks Pairing: Louie Duck x B.O.Y.D Summary: Boyd thinks he might be in love. 1.805 words Ao3 Link

"Dr. Dad?"

Gyro stopped writing in his notebook.

Right now, there were only him and Boyd in the lab.

He dropped his pen to focus his full attention on his son.

"Yes, 2B— I mean… Boyd?"

"What is love like?"

Gyro blinked his eyes.

"Pardon?"

"What does romantic attraction feel like?"

"Boyd, who taught you those words?"

"The internet." Boyd chirped happily.

Gyro scratched his head with a grunt.

"Those are not things for you to worry about. Why would you even want to know this?" He reached out to his coffee mug and took a sip.

"It's because I think that I might be in love, Dr. Dad." Boyd explained a little awkwardly.

Gyro suddenly spat his coffee in a coughing fit.

Startled, Boyd reached out to pat his father's back lightly.

When Gyro could finally stop coughing, he screeched:

"IN LOVE?! With who? How? Since when?!"

Boyd put his hands on his back while looking bashfully at the floor.

"I don't know. It started somewhat recently." Gyro couldn't help but notice that Boyd had avoided his first question. The more his son talked, the more color drained away from his face. "I've been experiencing confusing feelings when talking to and thinking about a specific person. I searched for answers online and the results said that I might be in love."

Gyro massaged his temples with a groan.

Boyd, being the smart kid he is, immediately noticed his father's unrest. Carefully, he approached Gyro and spoke up:

"Dr. Dad?" He hesitated. "Am I… bad for feeling this way?"

Gyro looked down at his child.

Boyd had already grown far beyond a simple robot ages ago. He had surpassed all of Gyro's expectations and, to this day, he was still his greatest creation.

Boyd deserved much better than a grumpy dad.

Alas, Gyro really wasn't cut out for this whole father and son thing.

With a sigh, Gyro pulled Boyd into a hug, which was quickly reciprocated.

"You're not bad for having feelings, Boyd. I was just surprised, that's all." He pushed his son away gently. "However, I don't think I'm the right person to explain more about this subject to you."

Boyd looked at his father with a frown. His Dr. Dad was the smartest person he knew. He always had the solutions for everything.

If he couldn't give him the answer to his dilemma, who else could?

—————

Boyd knocked on the elegant wooden door.

"Doofus?"

…

No response.

He knocked again. This time, he heard a grumble come from inside. Boyd turned the doorknob and pushed it open.

"What do you want, you lousy piece of machinery?" Doofus pierced him with his eyes. He was currently in the middle of… something.

His head was dripping wet and a bucket full of water could be seen in his hands.

Fortunately, Boyd had already learned long ago not to question his older brother's strange pastime activities.

"Brother, what is love like?"

Doofus stopped whatever the hell he was doing to look up at Boyd.

"And why would you like to know that, hmm?"

The corners of Boyd's mouth twitched. A warm blush spread across his cheeks while he fidgeted with his thumbs.

Of course, Doofus noticed all of this.

"Ho-hooo." He eyed Boyd curiously. "Well, what do we have here? It would seem my little brother has been fiddling around?"

Boyd quietly tapped his feet on the floor. Maybe Doofus wasn't the right person to ask about this after all.

"Well, you're in luck. You've come to the right person."

Boyd looked up at him.

"I did?"

"Yes." Doofus got up from his chair to pace around his room, gesturing wildly at his brother. "You see, Boyd, love is like sweet, sticky honey, and the self-sacrificing bees that make it. It's the rush of fresh air you feel after getting locked inside a room for two weeks, it's that moment when you realize chickens can't fly despite having wings."

Boyd furrowed his brows while listening to Doofus' rant.

"I don't think I get it."

Doofus smirked weirdly at him. He patted his brother's shoulder reassuringly.

"Someday you will, brother. Someday you will."

...As it turns out, Doofus wasn't the right person to ask about this after all.

—————

"Huey, can I ask you something?"

Huey looked up from his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook to gaze at Boyd. The two of them were hanging out in the triplet's bedroom while Huey's brothers weren't around.

"Of course. What's up?"

"What is love like?"

Huey seemed unprepared for this question.

"Why do you want to know something like that?"

"...Why does everybody ask me that? Can't you please just tell me?" Boyd pouted while blushing a little.

Boyd was an incredibly easy person to read. Anyone with half a pair of eyes could discern the boy's emotions just from taking one look at his face.

Combine that with the fact that he was Huey's best friend, of course Huey would quickly realize what was probably going on.

"Boyd, could it be... you have a crush on someone?" Huey smiled gently at his friend. "That's adorable. Who is it? Can you tell me?" He poked Boyd teasingly.

Boyd pondered over this.

Huey was his best friend in the whole world.

Maybe it would be okay if he told him?

Boyd shifted around nervously, the soft blush on his cheeks becoming increasingly stronger.

"...ouie..."

"Hm?"

"...I think—" Boyd took a deep breath. "I think I like... Louie..."

Huey suddenly closed his book with a heavy-sounding thud.

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again:

"You have a crush on Louie? My brother Louie?!"

Boyd nodded shyly.

Huey became speechless. The gears started turning in his head.

Should he tell Boyd how Louie felt about him?

No, no, Louie himself had to be the one to do it.

"Have you considered confessing to him?"

Boyd fiddled with his thumbs as he spoke:

"I have, but... I'm not sure. What if—" He hesitated. "What if he doesn't feel the same way about me?"

Slowly, Boyd's eyes widened and his pupils constricted, tears threatening to escape.

"Huey— Huey, what if he doesn't like me back? What if he doesn't like robots?" Boyd's breath became erratic as he began twisting and pulling on Huey's bedsheets. "What if he actually hates me? Wha-"

"Hey! Boyd, calm down, please." Huey held onto his friend's face forcefully but gently. "It's okay. Look at me. I'm here. Please focus on your breathing. You'll get through this, okay?"

Boyd stared into Huey's eyes without blinking, a single tear quietly running down his cheek. He closed his eyes abruptly and sniffed.

Huey pulled him into a hug.

"It's okay."

"I'm here for you."

"You're not a bother."

"You're a real person."

"None of us hate you."

"You're more than just a robot."

He spent many minutes saying comforting words to his friend until Boyd's silent cries eventually calmed down.

This wasn't the first time they had done this.

"Boyd, listen to me," Huey spoke kindly but firmly, still holding his friend in his arms. "Nobody hates you, okay? Especially not Louie. He's your friend."

He could feel Boyd give a weak nod under his grasp, so he kept going:

"And you're my best friend, alright? I could never hate you. You're an amazing person who's going through a lot right now." He paused. "You should consider opening up to Louie about how you feel."

Boyd held tightly onto the back of Huey's clothes.

"Are you sure? Do you think it's a good idea?"

"Yes. Your heart will feel much lighter after you tell him the truth, trust me."

"...Okay. I will try."

—————

"So, did you have something you wanna tell me?" Louie crossed his legs.

He looked the same as always: hands in his pockets, nonchalant, peaceful and easy-going, yet also cunning and sharp... everything Boyd ever aspired to be.

Boyd gulped apprehensively.

"Louie, do you hate me?" He blurted out before getting straight to the point.

It was a good start.

Louie stared at him in surprise.

"What? No? Do I act like I hate you?"

Boyd bit down on his beak nervously.

"No... I just..." He looked away, his voice trailing off.

Louie decided to pick it up from there.

"Dude, you're like, one of the coolest people I know."

Boyd looked over at him again.

"And I love hanging out with you. Sometimes it feels like you're one of the only people who really get me."

"Really?" Boyd choked out. "I'm… glad you feel that way."

"Of course." Louie nodded. "I like you very much, dude. You're my friend."

Boyd's heart started racing as he struggled to get his words out.

"Actually-" He paused, opening up his beak to speak, but finding himself unable to do so.

Boyd's selective mutism was a recurring issue.

It had gotten slightly better over time, but there were still many moments where he would be too anxious to say anything out loud.

Louie was already used to this, so he patiently waited for his friend to find his voice.

However, as more seconds stretched out, the more it seemed like he couldn't. Boyd was unable to get the words out of his throat. He stood completely frozen, except for his trembling beak, silently telling the words-

"—I love you?"

Louie's face flushed red.

He read Boyd's lips and accidentally let the words slip out of his mouth.

"That's what you were trying to say, right?" He tried playing it smooth, but it was clear that he was getting flustered.

After seeing the usually silver-tongued, smug, and overly confident Louie Duck crumble into a flushing mess, Boyd finally gathered enough courage to speak up:

"I love you."

Louie closed his mouth to focus all of his attention on the robot in front of him.

"I'm not sure since when, but... I think this is what I'm feeling" His voice grew increasingly steady the more he spoke. "I'm in love with you, Louie. You're amazing in every sense of the word. You're smart, funny, observant, assertive, loyal, trustworthy, level-headed, you're pretty, you always know what to say, you're compassionate, you pick up on the little details, you understand me, you make me feel better, you're so amazing..."

Boyd stopped for a moment, trying to pry for Louie's reaction.

"Louie?"

The duck's face was completely covered by his hoodie, with his hands covering his eyes.

But even then, Boyd could still tell with the help of his heat sensors that Louie's face was definitely blushing wildly.

"Louie? Are you—"

"BATHROOM BREAK!" He suddenly exclaimed, running away as fast as he possibly could.

"...Huh."

Boyd was very confused.

He was very, very confused, but…

Huey was right about one thing at least.

His chest didn't feel as tight anymore.

#louyd #louie duck #boyd gearloose #ducktales fanfic #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #boyd #boyd drake #ducktales fanfiction #ducktales 17 #dt 17 #boyd beaks #ducktales boyd #louie ducktales #boyd ducktales #idk how else to tag this #txt #ccs #my writing

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syntheticpoetry · 4 years

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The Ghosts That We Knew

See my original post on the origins of this story here!

Summary: Blaine Anderson is no stranger to hospitals and has been volunteering on the pediatric unit of Lima General Hospital for years when Kurt Hummel comes along. After Blaine is attacked at his school's Sadie Hawkins Dance, he has his best friend Kurt to help him deal with the aftermath. And when Kurt becomes the target of the McKinley football team's bullying campaign, he can count on Blaine to have his back.

AU where Blaine transfers to McKinley instead of Dalton. Set during season 1.A story of two best friends finding courage to face their bullies and discovering love along the way.

Author’s Note: Blaine has a reason he has been in an out of the hospital since childhood that will be revealed, but if you are overly cautious of the level of angst surrounding it I can assure you it's nothing heartbreaking/super serious. It's actually quite common. I cannot thank @esperantoauthor enough for beta reading this for me and really helping me whip it into shape!

AO3 Link || FFN Link

Chapter 1: Of Viral Videos and Disney Princes

The last time that Kurt Hummel remembers being in a hospital, he told his mother that he loved her for the last time.

That was six years ago.

As he walks through the lobby, towards the directory by the elevators, he keeps his gaze fixed forward, careful not to spare a glance at the waiting area to his right. He spent so many months in that waiting room. Entire seasons, multiple holidays spent watching people receive good news and bad news, with his father stoic and silent beside him as his mother underwent procedure after procedure. Until it was their turn to be the family that received bad news. The doctor sounded sincere as he said a lot of big words Kurt could not quite understand at the time, but he understood the look on his father’s face. He took to studying the ugly designs on the carpet to distract from the tight clench in his father’s jaw, the way he kept himself so still and barely blinked through the entire explanation— Kurt knew, even at eight years old, what it was like to use up all of your willpower to hold yourself together for the sake of someone else. To this day, he cannot look at paisley print without thinking back to that awful day.

Kurt scans the directory before punching the up button to call the elevator and folds his arms across his chest, tapping his foot as he awaits its arrival. When he first heard about the volunteer program on the pediatric unit he was naturally hesitant to return to the place that held some of his worst memories. He had been on the fence about it all summer, torn between the desire to give back to the hospital staff that had gone above and beyond in their attempts to cure his mother’s cancer and wanting to put as much distance as possible between himself and the place where they finally had to say goodbye to each other.

Until he saw that YouTube video.

A curly-haired boy with big doe eyes and an unwavering grin, guitar in hand, leading a Disney themed sing-along with a group of elementary school age kids. The warmth that spread through Kurt’s chest was almost overwhelming as he watched the boy march around the room performing Hakuna Matata with the parade of children trailing behind, mimicking him raucously and off-key. It was the first time Kurt had really smiled in a long time.

So he had decided to look into the program. Mostly because witnessing the boundless energy of pure joy from each child singing along in that video elicited memories of countless nights of living room performances with his own father, both of them puffy-eyed and exhausted but still managing to find the stamina to sing at the top of their lungs, using the furniture as stage props. They were two lost souls attempting to cling to each other through tidal waves of insurmountable grief, and those nights together— well, those nights wereeverything to Kurt. He had never felt closer to his father than when they were both breathless and laughing their way through the most eclectic collection of songs imaginable, hugging each other tightly at the end of each performance.

And if Kurt happened to run into the boy from the video along the way, well, that would certainly just be an added bonus. Kurt did have eyes after all. And there was no denying the boy’s natural charm or the air of confidence with which he carried himself.

Truth be told, entering yet another school year with no friends was beginning to take its toll on Kurt and the possibility of finding camaraderie with a cute boy who seemingly shared similar interests was certainly enticing.

Ding!

The doors slide open before him revealing an empty elevator. Kurt steps in and presses the button for the fourth floor. He thinks about that video and jumping on armchairs and couches in his living room with his father for the entire ride up.

***

He has to be buzzed in to enter the unit, which he thinks is strange. But the woman who greets him, a young nurse with bright green eyes and deep auburn hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, explains it is the protocol for all pediatric units in order to prevent children from wandering away or being kidnapped. There are security bracelets around each patient’s ankle that trigger an alarm if they are taken past a bright yellow line painted on the floor.

“Who would kidnap sick kids from a hospital?” Kurt asks, looking absolutely horrified.

“You would be surprised at how common it is. Parents fighting over custody, usually.”

He nods and guesses that makes sense, but the thought is still deeply unsettling.

The hallways are empty as she leads him to a room behind the nurse’s station. The unit is certainly much different from the one his mother had been on. The walls are covered in murals of different cartoon characters and scenes from popular storybooks. While the nurse punches in a code, Kurt studies a painting of Rapunzel in a high stone tower, golden plaited hair strung over the edge of the window for a handsome prince at the bottom. The door buzzes and she holds it open for him. “I’ll let my supervisor know you’re here.”

Kurt thanks her and takes a seat at one of the tables to wait. On the far wall he spots a bulletin board covered in an overabundance of overlapping photos, hand-drawn pictures and a variety of cards both homemade and store-bought. He casts a quick glance towards the door before crossing the room to investigate. He cannot help but smile as he scans over the collection of memories, reminiscing back to his own pile of hand drawn cards for the staff on the oncology unit.

Then something catches his eye.

It’s the curly haired boy from the video. He’s standing, guitar in hand with the strap over his shoulder, in the center of a group photo, surrounded by children of varying ages and the unit staff. His outfit is different from the one in the video though. He’s wearing baggy sweatpants and a printed T-shirt, only the edges of the otherwise obscured design visible from behind the guitar over his torso. In the video he had certainly seemed more, well, put together, to say the least. He had worn light grey slacks and a navy polo shirt accented with a white bow tie, which Kurt could not help but notice because he could count on one hand the amount of teenage boys he had ever seen wearing bow ties in the state of Ohio, himself included.

Kurt wonders how often he comes by to visit and volunteer. Maybe there is a chance they will be able to meet after all.

The faint beeping of the key code and jiggling of the door handle to his left draws his attention and he turns in time to see an older woman with ashy blonde hair and huge round glasses that take up half of her face walk in. Her scrub top is printed with different Winnie the Pooh characters. She smiles and approaches him, extending her hand. “Hi, you must be Kurt. I’m Jeannie; we spoke on the phone last week.”

“Oh! Yes,” Kurt shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Shall we?” She gestures to a table and Kurt takes a seat opposite her. “So we just have to get some paperwork in order and then we can take a little tour around the unit so you can meet the kids.”

“Okay.”

“This is your first time volunteering, right?” She opens a Manila folder and begins rifling through a large stack of papers.

“Yes.”

“What drew you to it?”

Kurt steals a glance towards the bulletin board, lips curling up into a half-smile. “I heard about it through my school a few months back, but honestly? I spent a lot of time visiting my mom in this hospital when I was a kid and when me and my dad would get home he would always try to cheer me up. We put on a lot of concerts for my stuffed animals in our living room. And I mean… like a lot .”

Her eyes are soft as she listens, a piece of paper held loosely between both hands just inches off of the table, almost forgotten, and gives him an empathetic smile.

“I saw that video of the Disney sing-along online and I just really wanted to be a part of it, helping kids, especially with music, because it’s really helped me through some tough times.”

“Well,” She straightens up and slides the paper across the table towards him, “I think the kids will really love having you around. Do you play any instruments?”

“Never missed a piano lesson,” Kurt says, grinning. “But mostly, I love to sing.”

The paperwork consists of a lot of signatures. Kurt is not to discuss any of the patients or their health conditions with others in order to maintain privacy regulations, not to post anything to social media without permission, and just a lot of general information about the hospital’s protocols such as what to do in the event of emergency scenarios (of which there are many ). By the end of it, Kurt has a pretty sizable stack of papers to take home with him and a dull cramp in his wrist.

“I know it seems like a lot of information, but nothing you have to memorise. You’ll always be with other staff members who will guide you through every step of the way.”

Kurt releases a nervous laugh, “Okay, good. I can save my highlighters for school work then.”

***

Jeannie leads the way to the playroom which, she explains, is a safe space for all the children on the unit that remains open every day until 7 p.m. No medications or treatments are allowed to be administered to a child in the playroom, they must be brought out first. There are about ten kids inside, ranging from toddlers to older teens, all of whom have seemingly gravitated towards splitting into their own little cliques based on ages. As soon as they enter the room two of the younger kids, a boy and girl no older than three or four, look up from a mountain of blocks and start crying. Kurt casts an alarmed glance at Jeannie.

“It’s okay, you can keep playing.” Jeannie kneels down and stacks a loose block onto their small tower. “Everyone, this is Kurt, he’s going to be coming by to help out and spend some time with all of you.” She stands up and backs away from the two toddlers with the blocks to stand beside Kurt again.

“It’s the uniform,” she says quietly to him. “Some get scared when they see us come into a room cause it usually means it’s time for medicine or treatments.”

“Hi, Kurt!” A small girl with bronze skin, a round face, and long thick black hair comes over and takes his hand. “I’m Melanie! You wanna come draw with me?”

She does not wait for an answer before she starts tugging on his hand and walking back towards a small rectangular table covered with construction paper and crayons. She climbs into one of two plastic blue chairs which are far too tiny for Kurt to fit in, so he sits on the floor beside the table, crossing his legs. Melanie slides a piece of yellow construction paper towards him and pushes a pile of crayons into the middle for them to share.

“Did you draw all of these?” Kurt picks up a red crayon and starts sketching.

“Yes! My daddy brought my big brother to visit and we draw together,” she says, shading in what looks like a sunflower with a purple crayon.

“They’re very beautiful; I like that one a lot.” Kurt taps the one she is currently working on. “I’ve never seen a purple sunflower before.”

“I’m gonna invent them one day,” she says matter-of-factly. Kurt smiles and returns to his sketch of a new outfit design that has been floating around his mind for the past week.

“Woah!”

Kurt begins to lift his head up to locate where the voice has come from when he spots movement beside his left elbow. To say the boy is small would be an understatement. He is tiny . A pale, skinny little thing dressed in Batman pajamas that look two sizes too big on him. He has wide, bright blue eyes and is wearing a charcoal grey beanie. Clutched between his toothpick arms is a stuffed rabbit with drooping ears the size of its entire body.

“Hello,” Kurt says as the boy leans forward to peer at his drawing.

“You can draw,” the boy says, clutching his rabbit closer.

“Would you like to draw with us?”

“Can’t draw,” he says.

“Oh, I bet that’s not true,” Kurt says and holds out the crayon to him. “Everyone can draw.”

The boy looks at the crayon then up to Kurt and shakes his head shyly before raising the bunny up to his chin, hugging it tightly.

“What’s your name?” Kurt asks.

“Jason,” he says quietly.

“Well, would you like to watch me and Melanie draw?”

“I’m really good.” Melanie looks up at him. “You can sit next to me, I’ll show you.”

Kurt spends the next hour drawing with Melanie while Jason continues to peek curiously between them. The other kids begin to trickle out of the room, some led by nurses, some by visiting family members. Pretty soon, only the three of them are left until Jason’s mother comes in to collect him. Before he leaves, Kurt holds out a piece of paper to him.

“Something tells me you like Batman,” Kurt says as Jason’s eyes widen at the image of a child-sized Batman with bright blue eyes. “How about next time you can draw me?”

“Okay.” Jason grins, slipping the picture between his stuffed bunny and his chest to hold it there safely. “But you’re gonna look like a potato. I really can’t draw.”

It is the most Kurt has heard him speak all afternoon. Something about the way he talks contradicts the way he looks. Kurt wonders how old he actually is; the boy looks smaller than most five year olds he’s seen but definitely talks like an older child. Kurt makes a mental note to find out next time. “Deal. I can’t wait to see it.”

Jason’s mom gives Kurt a parting smile before she shepherds her son away. Soon after, Melanie’s nurse comes to collect her as well, leaving only Kurt and Jeannie in the empty playroom.

“That went well,” she says. “You’re a natural with them.”

Kurt beams back at her, a sense of pride swelling in his chest.

After his dad comes to pick him up, Kurt spends the entire car ride home filling him in on the events of the day, excluding Jason and Melanie’s names. He goes to bed that night with his mind already buzzing with activities for the next visit.

***

Kurt starts volunteering two days a week after school and over the course of the next month, he becomes very familiar with some of the regular kids on the unit. Jason, he discovers, is actually nine years old, has leukemia and is in his final round of chemotherapy by the first week in October. Melanie has sickle cell anemia and had been hospitalized for something called ‘sickle cell crisis’— she had gone home two weeks after they first met, but Kurt learns that she usually returns frequently for the same problem. There’s a teenage boy not much older than Kurt is, but taller and skinnier with jet black hair and sad eyes, named Julian who has cystic fibrosis— he usually keeps to himself, oftentimes choosing to sit in the back corner of the playroom and silently watch everyone else.

The rest have been a whirlwind of faces and names with a variety of issues such as pneumonia, appendicitis, broken bones and asthma attacks. There have also been quite a few cases of children who have come in with injuries as a result of abuse at home, more so than Kurt would have imagined actually occurred. He finds trying to interact and engage with those kids to be the most heartbreaking.

Some of the kids are not as keen to warm up to him as others, keeping to themselves or staying with their families while Kurt leads sing-alongs, painting lessons, hosts movie nights, and reads aloud during story time. He has developed a steady routine in the five weeks since he began volunteering. So on the Tuesday during the second week of October he waves hello to the security personnel by the front entrance like he usually does. He rides up the same elevator and is buzzed into the unit by Rosie, the first nurse he met with the auburn hair. And with his usual wide smile in place, he strolls into the playroom with a new four-pack of Disney themed puzzles under his arm.

But when he walks in, the kids are already sitting in a circle, staring up at a boy with loosely gelled curls coiffed into a fluffy side part, bright hazel eyes, and a sapphire acoustic guitar perched on his lap. Kurt is caught completely off guard as he realises, Oh god, it’s him! It’s the guy from the video!

He looks shorter in person than Kurt assumed. In both the photo on the bulletin board and the video his hair was ungelled and wild. Kurt vividly remembers his dark curls bouncing as he bopped his head along to the music while impersonating Timon and Pumba for the younger kids. He’s dressed in another carefully selected outfit though— bright red pants, a black polo and a white bow tie with black polka dots on it.

“Kurt!” A few of them yell excitedly.

“Ah, so you’re the famous Kurt I’ve been hearing so much about,” The boy with the guitar says, that same unwavering grin already in place. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Blaine.”

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detectivedreameater · 3 years

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Misery Loves Meals || Miriam and Marley

TIMING: A week ago PARTIES: @meflemming and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Marley and Miriam meet up for a battle of wits, but soon realize their similarities and come to an agreement. CONTENT: Head trauma mention, Slight body horror description

Usually, Miriam only stopped by Al’s restaurant to pick up to-go orders for Elle on nights that her assistant stayed at Miriam’s house, but that hadn’t been for several weeks, now, seeing as how someone was almost always home. She was a bit unused to the tacky vinyl booths as she sat, warming her hands on a mug of coffee that she could smell had been brewed too weak. She was curious about this stranger she was meeting with on the internet; someone who had clearly reached out to her at the wrong time. It was, perhaps, a bad habit of Miriam’s, to fight with people using barbed words when she felt any sort of negative emotion. But better to do this than to go out and make another mess. She told herself that was the reason she hadn’t been out to feed since the incident with Morgan; she’d been dropping far too many bodies, even though she’d cut back on hunting quite a lot in the last few months. She simply needed to cut back more. Even if it left her irritable. This was nothing compared to twenty years spent starving in a mausoleum, and she’d chosen to do that, too. She heard the door open and glanced up, seeing a head of dark hair and a leather jacket walk through. She schooled her face into a pleasant smile. “Hello. Marley, I assume?”

After everything that had happened-- or, more accurately, everything Marley had done-- she really needed a way to let out some steam. Usually she had two methods of doing that: 1) angry sex. Was there really anything better than that, to get out all your aggression? She wasn’t sure. And 2) feeding on someone who she thought deserved it. But seeing as both those options were things she found herself not wanting to do, Marley was stuck in a vicarious position. Not to mention that her abilities had been thrown completely out of whack lately, more so than she’d noticed before. She’d thought maybe she was getting better, but at this point, it almost seemed as if the opposite were true. And she didn’t like that thought at all. So then what was this meeting with Mim Flemming? She wasn’t sure. She wanted to try and feed on her, just a little bit, to make sure she wasn’t getting worse. That was all, right? It would only be a little bit. She’d stop before it got too far, like with Deirdre, like with Nadia, like with Lydia. She’d stop. And so it was with this that she entered Al’s, her best leather jacket adorned, sunglasses snug on her face. She spotted Mim right away and stopped at the edge of the booth. “If I’m Marley, that must make you Mim, then,” she held out her hand, “pleasure to meet you. Is this seat taken?”:

“I suppose it does,” Miriam said with a small laugh, taking Marley’s hand and giving it the kind of firm handshake she’d been taught to give in the business world. She looked this woman over, just as keen to read her as Marley was probably keen to read Miriam. A nice jacket, though Miriam knew she could make better and sunglass on despite it being both night time and indoors. It was curious, but not something Miriam was willing to comment on just yet. “It’s wonderful to meet you, as well. It’s not taken at all, please, have a seat.” She settled in, picking up her mug and taking a sip of coffee. Yes, she’d been right. It wasn’t brewed nearly strong enough. She’d have to simply suffer through it. “How rude of me. Would you like something? Coffee? Tea? I believe the food here is also enjoyable?” Though, they weren’t here to enjoy the atmosphere of Al’s, were they? Marley was here because she believed she could read Miriam after one single, insignificant online interaction, and Miriam was here to prove this woman wrong.

Just the pose Miriam was sitting in told Marley enough to know what kind of woman she was meeting here. The confidence, the gravitas, the commanding energy-- this was a woman who knew what she wanted and how to get it. White business men probably called her a “bitch”, and if Marley hadn’t been so in her head lately, she would’ve been just her type. After she shook her hand-- strong, firm-- Marley sat across from her and settled into the booth, her skin prickling ever so slightly as she remembered all the times she’d come here with Anita. Swallowing, she grinned back at the other woman. “Coffee would be great,” she answered, noting that the other woman also was drinking coffee, late at night. Either she was a nightshift worker, or she was part of the night life here. She hazarded a guess it was the latter. “It’s got decent food, I’ve heard. I mostly just come here in the mornings before work. I take it you’ve never been here, then?”

Waving down a waitress, Miriam gave a smile and asked, “Could I get another coffee for my friend here? Thank you, darling.” She turned back to Marley, taking in the other woman’s mannerisms once more, the way the woman seemed to shake her head as if clearing it. She had a nice smile, though, if somewhat blocked by the glasses she still didn’t take off, something that Miriam found curiouser and curiouser. “I often get food to go from here, but it’s rarely for myself.” Though, she’d been to Al’s plenty of times, in her youth. Honestly, it hadn’t changed at all, since then. Neither had Al, if she thought about it. “My assistant enjoys their onion rings. I have a few dietary restrictions, unfortunately, that make it harder for me to enjoy the food they offer here.” She took another sip of coffee at that. “I have no doubt it’s good food, though. What is it you do? For work, I mean.”

“Do you often get food for your assistant, then? Isn’t that supposed to be the other way around?” Marley asked. It was a simple question, but a probing one. The way people answer simple questions could give away a lot about them, and Marley wanted to be sure that she knew everything she could about this woman before diving in. It would be easy enough, though, to pry through her fears. The waitress returned momentarily with Marley’s coffee and she wrapped her hands around the cup, breathing in the bitter scent for a moment before taking a sip. “Dietary restrictions? I understand that, I’ve got a few myself.” She set the cup down and tapped the side of it, pondering a moment. “I’m a detective,” she answered after a short, purposeful pause, “I work at the WCPD.” At least, on good days she did. Right now, those were few and far between.

“Occasionally, yes.” Miriam gave Marley a small grin. “Perhaps, but if I have her doing something for me, I’d rather go and get something for her than have her stop in the middle of work.” Besides, it was so much easier to have something waiting for Elle at the house if she was watching it for the night. Not that there was much need for that, at this point. Not with Evelyn staying with her most nights. Not with Miriam only going out to pretend like she was hunting. She felt neutered; a witch hunter that didn’t even hunt witches. If she kept this up, they’d begin to think that she’d left again. “It’s rather unfortunate. I can’t eat most things, and what I do just doesn’t taste that good. I try to keep to the Paleo diet, I believe it’s called. For my health. And yourself?” A detective, huh? This one was quite different from Agatha, with her serious demeanor and intent focus on her work. Marley seemed… perhaps laid back wasn’t the right word, but certainly not so tightly wound. “WCPD? I’m sure you see quite a lot of interesting cases.”

“Hmm. Now, you seem like the kind of boss all underpaid assistants need. How sweet of you,” Marley said, stirring her coffee even though there was nothing in it to mix in. She took another sip, contemplating. “Paleo? That’s rather intense. I have a thing about salt,” she said, “I have to be very careful with it, and salt is in most food, so it’s really hard.” She shrugged. Most people didn’t often connect salt with mara, but she also didn’t mind someone thinking, perhaps, she was a ghost. She’d love to watch them waggle an iron rod at her and then balk when nothing happened. The thought made her grin. What she wanted most, though, was to know what made Miriam tick. She had a slight read on her already, but she still needed more. She didn’t wanna cheat, after all. She leaned her chin on her palm, staring across the table at Miriam. “Oh, yeah. You have no idea. We see some crazy ass shit. This town is just full of surprises. How long have you lived here?”

“It’s purely for pragmatic reasons, I assure you,” Miriam said, leaning her elbows on the table and resting her head in her hands. She smirked. “As I said, it’s easier to let her work and get it myself.” It wouldn’t do for just any stranger off the street to think that Miriam was anything more than a hardass. She had a reputation to uphold: charming, polite, distant. Shrewd business owners did not take time out of their schedules to go pick up food for their assistants. Usually, it was the other way around, even if their diet was as limited as Miriam’s was. “It’s really not so bad. I’ve gotten used to it over the years. Salt?” She raised an eyebrow, ever so slightly. She knew quite a bit about things with salt. She’d been careful, making sure that there wasn’t any in her home as soon as she knew that Evelyn was going to be staying for an extended period of time. All of the strange, overly salted snacks Elle kept around? Packaged up and sent home with the girl within an hour. “It’s good to keep things low sodium, I personally think. I try to avoid it myself.” Marley was so confident, so sure of herself, at least on the surface. “I’m sure I can’t imagine.” Though, she could. She knew she could. She had no doubt some poor, unsuspecting officer had stumbled upon her handiwork at least once. She tried not to linger on that thought, to let it seep into her head and make her regret. Instead, she eased back, relaxed, and lied. “Oh, about a year now, and it truly is something else. I can’t imagine there’s anywhere else quite like it, here.”

Pragmatic, huh? Marley’s brows rose at the word. She doubted that was the entire motive behind it, Mim was a woman of few words, but they were chosen carefully. And when someone chose their words like that, it meant they were trying to put out a certain persona. One that Marley could easily see through. She mirrored Miriam’s posture, only leaning on elbow on the table, however, and tracing the rim of her cup with one finger. “So you’ve been dealing with this for a long time, then? Your dietary condition?” She was already putting the pieces together-- Miriam was definitely not human. Now, if only she could figure out what kind of not-human she was. A creature of the night, probably, but there were many of those. The paleo diet could mean a plethora of things as well. She was not mara, unless she was wearing contacts, but she didn’t have any of the signs. Marley looked at the salt shaker on the table before glancing back to Miriam. “Do you now?” Maybe she was a mara. Marley had come to find many of them preferred wearing contacts over glasses-- it was much easier to accidentally lose your glasses. Suddenly, Miriam’s body language changed and Marley’s senses tingled-- a lie. Why would she lie about how long she’d been here? A change in baseline behavior was never wrong, though. “Only a year? How are you adjusting? And you’re right about that-- White Crest certainly has a unique atmosphere. And the nightlife really isn’t like anywhere else.”

“A couple of years now, yes,” Miriam said easily. “It’s rather annoying, at times, but nothing so egregious.” She took a sip of her coffee, still displeased by its lack of flavor. “I can still enjoy a nice brew, which is lovely.” Even if this wasn’t a particularly nice brew. She watched Marley’s eyes move behind the glasses and followed them to the salt shaker. Curiouser and curiouser. “I do, yes. Do you have any idea the amount of damage sodium reaps on the body. Horrible, simply horrible.” She smirked. Not that it would hurt her; it would just hurt someone that she, well, cared about. And it was apparently interesting to this stranger. “Give or take, yes. It’s been a rather strange year. But I like to think I’m adjusting well; moved into an old family home, took over an old family business. It feels like I’ve been here forever.” That was, perhaps, a bit too on the nose, but Miriam didn’t care. This was a fun game. Certainly more fun than she’d been able to have without her usual fare of slaughtering people. “The nightlife is truly phenomenal. It’s amazing how this little town comes alive at night.”

A couple of years. That wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the entire truth, but Marley could tell it wasn’t a full lie. So, probably not a mara. If she was, it would have been affecting her her entire life. Marley felt a twinge of disappointment, but it was soon replaced with eagerness. She could get a small meal out of this if she played it right. Just a little glare. Nothing big or long or damaging. Just enough to get her by for the weekend. “As long as I can have coffee, I don’t mind not being able to eat much, so amen to that,” she said, raising her glass and taking a long sip. It was thick and bitter, just like she liked it. Al’s had trained her in to liking it that way. “Hmm, the town has a way of doing that to you, doesn’t it? I remember my first month here felt like an entire year. I think I worked more overtime that month than the rest of my life combined.” Another thoughtful sip, as she regarded the other woman. Family business, new to town, nightlife. Something didn’t add up here. Marley leaned forward, elbows on the table. “So what’s your poison, then, Mim?” Hushed her voice. “Brains or blood or booze?”

Miriam smirked and raised her glass along with Marley. “I agree completely.” Even if caffeine was pointless, there was something about drinking coffee, about warming her perpetually cold hands around a warm mug or cup that made her feel alive. “It does, yes. Time seems to both slow and speed up impossibly around here. I hope you were paid well for all of that. Overtime on the police force in this town seems like an absolute bitch.” She cocked her head a bit to the side. “And how long have you lived here? I’d say I’m surprised to have not seen you around, but I do my best to stay on the right side of the law.” She gave Marley her most charming grin, always just a bit lopsided with the way her mouth was shaped, a trait she’d inherited from her mother. Months before, she might have winked, might have leaned forward, allowed her eyelids to fall forward just a bit. But her heart wasn’t in it. Even before the situation with Morgan, she’d found herself less inclined to flirt, and when she did, she felt a bit guilty, thinking about how much she’d rather be at her home with someone that she maybe, just maybe, cared about. It was ridiculous. Instead, she cocked her head a bit. Well, it’s not like she was being subtle. “Oh, booze, without a doubt.” She let her eyes flash red, much as she had the first night she met Evelyn. “I need more of it than I once did, but definitely booze. And you, Marley? Salt allergies are rather unusual. Do you also go bump in the night?”

Marley’s whole body was tingling. Her mind wasn’t even registering the rest of the conversation, because she could feel herself craving to taste her fear. It had been so long since she’d fed intentionally, she could feel her heartbeat increasing. Blood racing, breath picking up. She wanted to do it so bad, it would feel so good. After all the shit that had been going on, fighting with Anita, messing up with Erin, yelling at Dakota-- she needed this. She deserved this. And it would just be a little bit, right? Just a little flash. Just a little taste. She wasn’t even thrown or surprised by Miriam’s flash of red-- not mara, but vampire. What kind? Marley didn’t care. She’d dealt with vampires before. She could not hurt her here, Marley was untouchable. And for the first time in a long time, Marley felt powerful. “You know what they say,” she answered slowly, removing her glasses, “I’m a walking nightmare.” And she met Miriam’s gaze, red eyes to red-- but she didn’t pull the trigger. Couldn’t. Something was stopping her. Hesitation or tentativeness or-- guilt. She swallowed, tried to thing of a way to salvage the situation. “I take it you’ve met a mara before,” she said, sliding her glasses back on, looking away. “Don’t suppose you’d volunteer to be a meal, would you?”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, darling. I think you’re quite a delight.” But Miriam was grinning as the words left her mouth, overly pleased with the way this encounter had turned out, along with the fact that she’d properly been able to identify another supernatural, especially one that she’d never heard of prior to the last year such as a mara. She gazed at the other woman curiously, still pleased at the way this conversation had ended up going. Here she thought she was going to be dealing with some overconfident bitch on the internet, but Marley was interesting company, and polite on top of it. This was unexpected indeed. “I’ve met a mara or two, yes. I know one quite well.” Her lips twitched a bit as she mulled over Marley’s question. “Can you? Make a meal out of me, I mean. I don’t sleep, so I don’t exactly have nightmares. You’re welcome to try, though. I’m rather curious as to what you’d see. I only ask that you help me, as well.” With every day that passed, blood was doing less and less to sustain her. She needed fear, pain, negative emotions. “Not blood,” she said, quietly. “But, perhaps, my misery in exchange for yours?”

“I can,” Marley stated simply, “we don’t feed exclusively on nightmares. Just one look,” she tapped the side of her head indicating her glowing, red eyes, “and you’ll see your worst fears manifested here in this booth. And the fear you feel from it-- that’s what I feed on.” She used to take pride in explaining her powers, used to take pride in the fact that she could drop a six foot five tall man with only a glance-- but now it felt hollow. They felt...dark. Her powers were only able to hurt. Never help, never heal. And they’d failed her when she needed them most, and now they rarely worked right. She looked back across the table at Miriam. “Misery? I’ve never heard of a vampire that can feed on that.” She gave a little scoff, “You wouldn’t like my blood, anyway. According to another vampire who thought it would be fun to take a bite out of me, my blood tastes like dirt and it makes you hallucinate.” She stirred her coffee once more, contemplating. “How does it work?” she asked, tapping her cup now. “Will I feel it?” And she wasn’t sure what answer she wanted, because she desperately wanted to feel something other than this misery.

“Well, that’s convenient. The world is your buffett.” Miriam couldn’t help but be just a little jealous, especially after years of thinking that she had to exclusively feed off of witches. Or people that she thought were witches. What a fool she’d been. Perhaps, if she could feed off of Marley, it’d been that she could maybe, just maybe, not have to feel miserably hungry all the time. “I must admit, I’m curious as to what those fears would be. I haven’t been properly afraid of anything in a very long time. Alright. You can do it.” There was little to fear, she’d found, when she didn’t give a shit about what people would think. Except, now, she did give a shit. She had reasons to give a shit. It was kind of annoying. “I’m not a normal vampire, unfortunately. It’d be much, much simpler. But dirt and hallucinations sound a bit too much like a Grateful Dead concert than is to my liking. I’ll think I’ll pass.” She wrinkled up her nose. “I’ve… never done it in a controlled environment, I’ll admit. But you would feel it, and I would cause it.” She smirked. “Perhaps you’ll be miserable just being inside my head.”

“It should be,” Marley answered quietly, “but it’s not that simple.” If only it were. For so long, she’d let herself just feed on whoever she thought deserved it. People who acted preyed on others in bars, or criminals who got away with it. People who thought they were better than everyone else. She thought back to Deirdre, and how her fears had manifested and how nice they had tasted. She remembered her begging Marley to stop and Marley, selfish and angry, had kept going. She remembered Nadia’s nightmare, being dragged through a life crumbling apart because of a ghost. She remembered all the people she destroyed just to get a meal. She removed her glasses slowly-- if she wanted to change, she needed to practice, right? “Just a little glimpse is all I need,” she said with an even breath. “I’d hate for you to have to relive the 70’s. I also don’t appreciate biting as much as one would think,” she said with a wry grin, shallow and ghostly on her face, opposite Miriam’s smirk. “Good,” she said, “I want to feel it.” Rolled her neck before looking back at her. “Who first?”

“Nothing ever is,” Miriam murmured. If her heart still beat, she imagined it would have been a bit faster than normal, both from the conversation and from anticipation. She had no idea how this was going to go, what she was getting herself into. Hadn’t she dealt with enough nightmares back in the summer? She should know, just from that, what it was that Marley would likely see. But she’d changed some, since then, had new worries, new concerns. What was she afraid of? She knew, but she never touched that. It had always been important to Miriam to never, never be afraid. Fear was weakness. Weakness was not tolerated. Not when dealing with men that didn’t believe a young woman had any place running a profitable business. Not when overhearing your husband talk about how he was just using you for your money. Not when you stared him in the eyes as you killed him slowly, hands shaking the entire time. She couldn’t be weak, she couldn’t have fears. “Take whatever you need, darling,” She said, her tone seemingly careless. “Who knows? You might get a good look at just how bad the 70s were.” She raised an eyebrow. “You go first. I’m… still figuring out how I’m going to do this without physically harming you.” She gave Marley a tight, fanged grin.

“The 70;s, huh?” Marley answered, readjusting her eyes to look back over at Miriam. She didn’t meet her gaze quite yet, worried she might trigger the gaze too soon, but made sure to look at her enough that she would get to see her eyes shining before it happened. While they usually brought her shame, she’d been learning to accept that part of herself. Slowly, but surely. Maybe one day she could even come to like them, to enjoy them the same way Anita used to look at her. The thought made her heart clench and she looked away again. “Brace yourself,” she said, pushing her coffee cup away in case things got...difficult. “And I'm sorry in advance.” Because this wasn’t going to be fun, for either of them. But when she lifted her gaze, she was ready-- she let the power flow through her and centered it in her eyes and when she opened them, she let Miriam fall into her fears, and she fell after her.

“Hmm,” Miriam hummed as she prepared for whatever was about to happen. There was no need to apologize for this, she thought, especially since she’d asked for it, been curious about it. Then, meeting Marley’s gaze, she waited. At first, nothing. The restaurant didn’t change. It was still just the two of them sitting in the booth. She raised her eyebrows, underwhelmed. But Miriam looked down at her hands. Her left hand was turning gray, the sickly shade of gray that she had remembered from years of being in the mausoleum. She attempted to twitch her fingers, but they wouldn’t move. The skin on her right hand was beginning to flay itself away from her skin, and Miriam did not need to breathe, but she did all the same, sharply, tightly, a strangle in her throat. She meant to look up at Marley, to say that it was enough, but the man sitting in the booth beside the mara made Miriam pause.

“You deserve this, Miriam,” Theo said, his voice dead, his eyes dead, everything about him dead. “You deserve this.” His voice was joined by Gillian’s, by his parents’, by her own, by Thomas Klein, Morgan,, Elle, Evelyn, her own, and, most damningly, Miriam knew that it was the truth. She deserved to suffer for all the suffering she’d put so many though. It suited her that one of her biggest fears was something that she knew would eventually come to pass: the judgement and damnation of everyone, even the people she cared about.

Eyes clenched tight, Miriam said, “Stop. Stop. Please stop.” The voices didn’t. They just kept echoing, blaming, buzzing around in her head like wasps. Miriam could feel her fangs dig into her tongue, dark bitter blood filling her mouth. If she opened her eyes, they’d be just as red as Marley’s. Shutting her eyes didn’t keep the image away.

The thing about fear was that everyone was afraid of something. Sometimes it was something easy, like spiders or fire or walls closing in. Sometimes they were more complicated, like a falling from a height, or lightning, or drowning. And sometimes, they were so psychologically imbued, it even threw Marley for a loop. She watched as Miriam’s skin turned grey. She watched as it burned away from her muscle, sinew and bone left behind. She heard the voices calling out to her, telling her she deserved this. Telling her she was cruel. Telling her she was a monster. Marley’s heart jolted.

Stop. Stop. Please stop. She blinked so heavily the world tilted sideways. Shook her head furiously and tore her gaze away from Miriam. “Fuck,” she hissed, pressing her palms to her eyes. Fuck, she hated that. It was like facing her own damn fears. She could feel Miriam’s fear in such a visceral manner it made her stomach churn. If things had been reversed, it just would have been Erin sitting there. And Anita, and Agatha, and Jane. And Deirdre, glaring down at her with those judgemental eyes, telling her she deserved this. That she deserved to suffer. All because she hadn’t stopped. Once, just once.

Marley didn’t look back up at Miriam until she’d put her glasses back on. Looks like they were both monsters of their own making. She let out a breath. “If it helps, you can hurt me,” she muttered quietly, “you can’t actually do any damage to me at night.”

As the voices faded, and Miriam found that she could move her hands again, she went completely still, head bowed. She didn’t breathe, didn’t do anything but collect herself for a moment or two or three. Slowly, her fangs went away. She could feel the redness fading from her irises, though she felt tears in her eyes. When she started moving again, Miriam blinked them away and looked up. Marley looked just as miserable as Miriam felt. Marley felt as miserable as Miriam felt. How ironic. Miriam’s nightmares ended up causing Marley’s distress, leaving them both with a meal. Lovely, both of them were fed, and both of them felt absolutely shitty because of it. “No need,” she said, surprised by how rough her voice sounded. “Tragically, this is the best I’ve felt in days. I think that was beneficial for both of us.” Even if it had been positively wretched. Still, she hadn’t been able to properly feed in weeks, too overcome by something that equated to a conscience to do anything more than lie about what she was doing and sit in her car for hours on end. This was, sadly, what her best looked like. “I think that hurt you enough.”

Marley hated that that was a true statement. It did hurt her, a lot. She hated that she had to do that to feed, she hated that she had to tear people’s minds apart just to survive. Peter always preached about feeding safely and thoughtfully, but how was that possible when just one feeding could do that to someone. When just one look could cripple someone for days. She glanced across the table miserably before leaning forward to grab her coffee and downing it. “Yeah,” she sighed heavily, “sure did.” She slid her coffee cup back to the middle of the table and ran her hands through her hair. “Misery loves company, right?” she sat up, then and started sliding from the booth. “Glad we both got our fill. Same time next week?” she asked, pulling out her wallet and throwing down some cash onto the table. She gave Miriam a steady glance from behind her glasses. Lowered her voice, trying to soften it, despite the heaviness in her chest. “It can be like monster rehab, right? If we’re not hurting other people, it’s gotta be better than suffering alone.”

“It certainly does,” Miriam said, wrapping her hand around her mug even though it had long ago lost its heat. Sighing, she stood up as well. There was no reason to stay and, once the lingering fear and disgust died down, she’d be doing a lot better than she had before coming here. The night hadn’t quite gone the way she expected, but she couldn’t say that she was displeased with the outcome. She laughed, the sound humorless in the back of her throat. “I look forward to it.” She gave Marley a tight nod. “Monster rehab. I suppose it’s about time I tried it. Thank you, Marley. See you next week. I’ll pay next time.” With that, Miriam headed out. She met up with the waitress on the way out, thanking her for the coffee with a smile that was more sincere than the one she’d given when she came in. On the way to her car, she shook her head. Monster rehab. Perhaps this wasn’t quite what she’d been thinking, when she’d just decided to go cold turkey on feeding, but it certainly was a solution. And, Marley was right; they weren’t suffering alone. If they could both benefit from this arrangement, it couldn’t be bad. She got in her car, turned on the heat, and got ready to head home. The ache in her stomach had dulled, even if the one in her chest had grown.

#chatzy #wickedswriting #miriam #misery loves meals #chatzy: miriam #head trauma mention tw #//so many m's in this title lmfao

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sweetheartyuta · 4 years

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Bandslam! Taeyong

Happy to be back - bunny x (PSA this is reposted from squares react where I was Admin luna, the blog has since went inactive so I’m transferring my works to my new account :))

• So you’d been friends with taeyong since you were in diapers and you’d been inseparable ever since, you always had each other’s backs and were always very protective of one another. • You were both very musically talented, taeyong with his ability to write such meaningful lyrics and play the electric guitar expertly and you had a “great voice” as taeyong would say and definitely weren’t too shabby on the drums. • You’d spend the majority of your time together practicing in your parent’s soundproof garage, making covers and posting them online, which definitely got you some recognition at school and a growing support group online, although it was a small following it was greatly appreciated by you both. • With your growing support online you quickly befriended Johnny who was a magician on the electric keyboard and jaehyun who was a wiz on the bass guitar and soon enough, the pair quickly became the new additions to your band • anyone that looked over at the four of you would have thought that you had known each other forever. • When you joined together as a band, no other high school in your area could compete with you four, you were a force to be reckoned with, often asked to perform at school ceremonies and even prom. • That night when you rocked up in a dress with drumsticks in hand he saw you in a completely different light, like he was staring for so long Johnny had to punch him on the arm and was like ‘’dude are you okay you’re staring” • “wha- oh yeah I’m okay” realising he’d been staring for too long a pink hue made its way to his cheeks • He was at a loss, you looked simply radiant, he had always seen you as his best friend but the hammering in his ribcage was telling him a different story, after playing a few songs for your fellow classmates he made his way over to the food, trying to figure out what it was he felt when he looked at you. • A gentle tap on the shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts as he turned to meet your eyes gazing at him worriedly • “ dude are you okay you’ve been really quiet all night, this isn’t like you” • And because he’s not sure what was going on with him either he just smiled and reassured you, it wasn’t a fake smile though because he was always happiest when he was around you, he didn’t have to fake a smile. • He felt a tug on his arm and was then dragged to the dance floor “come on doofus let’s dance” he laughed at your comment and felt a warmth in his chest, after all these years you hadn’t changed at all, you never were one to follow the crowd, you were always your own person, dressing how you wanted, stood up for what you believed In and never changed who you were just for the sake of popularity. • And that is what he lov- liked!! That was what he liked about you • A slow song played next and you both groaned, you had talked about that cliché moment at dances when the couple get up to dance and a slow song starts to play but you laughed together as you started to sway to the beat. • Your hands held his shoulders lightly, as your head rested on his chest, almost like a hug, while his hands slowly made their way to your waist, causing an acceleration in his heartbeat though you were too busy to notice as you hummed along to the song. • He closed his eyes, never wanting to forget this moment, the moment he realised he liked you, more than a friend, he took in your sweet voice, quietly singing along to the song when all of a sudden you snorted as you looked across the hall to find Johnny and Jaehyun dancing the same way you two were to make fun of the both of you, he couldn’t help but laugh too at the sight in front of them. • Jaehyun was leaning his head on Johnny’s shoulder as they were almost the same height, twirling around the hall as they listened to you laughing. • They were so happy for taeyong, they knew before he did that he would have feelings for you, the way his ears seemed to perk up when you talked in a conversation, you balanced him out, he had a cold exterior, his prominent features scared many into thinking he was a very cold person but after befriending him the boys knew differently. • Whereas you were bubbly and had friendly features and they took a liking to you instantly, they first realised that taeyong liked you when they joined your group, the way he was overly protective as he was used to things just being you and him, it took him longer to accept the boys than you. • But now taeyong couldn’t imagine life without the three of you and couldn’t be more grateful for three friends he knew would be there for him for life and the trio felt the same way. • After prom taeyong would be so confused, noting things about you that he had never realised before, the way you lit up band practice when you walked into the garage, the way you threw your head back and you closed your eyes when you found something really funny and he couldn’t tell whether he actually had feelings for you or if it was just a crush. • So one day at lunch you’d be sitting at a table with Jaehyun and Taeyong and Johnny walks over with a poster in his hand and slam it on the table “guys you know we have to enter this right ?!” • You’d share a hesitant look with taeyong, although you didn’t deny the talent your band had, you had never participated in any competition therefore you wouldn’t know the kind of talent the other groups had • The competition meant business though, the winning group would receive a record deal and cash prize, the two things any aspiring musicians wished for • After some persuasion from Johnny you gave in, looking around the table you smiled, you wouldn’t want to take part in the competition with anyone else and it would be stupid to pass up an opportunity like this, jaehyun and Johnny high fived and cheered, sending all of the attention in the lunch room your way • The four of you knew that there was no chance you’d even qualify without a lot of practice. After countless nights spent in the garage you auditioned and qualified, making it to the final, although you had done well throughout the competition and received good feedback from the judges. You knew that winning the competition without doing something to make yourselves stand out wasn’t happening

• So you decided to come up with your own song, yes it was a risky move but with the lyrical geniuses that are jaehyun and taeyong and your knowledge of composing music mixed with Johnny’s editing skills you were pretty confident that you could create something great that would catch the eye of the judges and may give you the edge. • You all decided to stay at Taeyong’s house, giving you the opportunity to shoot ideas back and forth (while devouring a mountain of Doritos) and ask the guys for their opinion. Your eyelids slowly started to droop after five hours of nonstop composing and changing things around, you rested your head comfortably on Taeyong’s shoulder, slowly falling asleep. • It was a normal thing you would do but it felt different this time to Taeyong, his heart leapt at the sight of you laying on his shoulder, with your laptop balancing on your legs and shallow breaths leaving your mouth • He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to (he definitely didn’t) so he placed your laptop carefully onto the table and placed an arm around your waist, the guys had fallen asleep an hour before, tiring themselves out by eating so much pizza • He placed his lyric book on the ground and wrapped a blanket around you both and slowly fell asleep himself. • You were the first to wake up and you were surprised to say the least when you felt someone’s arm around you, you looked up at Taeyong to see him sleeping peacefully, a small blush forming on your face • Your feelings towards Taeyong had started to bloom recently, you just couldn’t imagine your life without him, always planning your futures together, he was your partner in crime and you were always curious if you would work out as a couple. • The next few band practices you had were all night-ers, trying to perfect the song, changing the tuning slightly as you did. Both Jaehyun and Johnny had begun to pick up on your feelings for Taeyong and began to put a plan into action, they’d leave you two alone at lunch time and say they had detention for doing something stupid and go sit in the library to give you two time to talk. They’d set the wrong time for band practice so they’d get there half an hour later than you did. • Basically doing anything to let you guys figure out your feelings for one another. • So anyways the day of the bandslam final comes and you were well prepared and you knew that even if you didn’t win you still tried your hardest and you still had your three best friends and nothing could change that. • Don’t get me wrong though, you were up against some pretty stiff competition, the level of talent was insane but you didn’t have much time to think about it since you were one of the first bands to play. • ¬¬the look of confusion which very quickly turned to excitement that came from the judges and the crowd was priceless as they realised you were playing your own song, though Taeyong looked more nervous than usual. • You let it slide because you thought it was just because of the competition but little did you know he was planning on asking you to be his girlfriend if you won • The performance was definitely one of the best you’ve had, you couldn’t help but feel emotional at knowing all of the hard work you put in had paid off and the reaction from the crowd was something that you never wanted to forget. • The competition was left down to three different groups, all of which had did very well with their performances, standing on the stage waiting for your results you felt like your heart was about to drop to your stomach. Taeyong took hold of your hand and interlocked it with his own, giving it a squeeze, you looked up to Taeyong who gave you a reassuring smile. • You were too busy in your own thoughts to realise your name had been called out as the winning group, everyone was screaming and you were pulled into a group hug by Johnny “wE DID IT GUYS, WE ACTUALLY DID IT” • Taeyong pulled away from you and grabbed a mic and got the attention of the crowd who were cheering you “so I promised myself I’d do something if we won this competition” he turned to face you taking your hand in his own “ will you go out with me?” • And god, you would be in tears now if you weren’t already crying, you’d nod your head and pull him in for a hug, shyly kissing his cheek. • To be honest the two noobs were probably freaking out more over the fact you said yes to being Taeyong’s girlfriend than winning the competition, they’d pick you both up and spin you round “IT’S ABOUT TIME WE THOUGHT IT WAS NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN” • Honestly this was a day that would go down in history for all four of you, though you’d be the biggest winner of all because you got a record deal and walked away with Taeyong not just as your best friend, as your boyfriend.

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mylifeblog814 · 3 years

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Cuban Dating Websites

Find Cuban singles for flirty online dating Finding friendly and attractive Cuban singles in your city couldn’t be easier when you sign up to our dating site. We’re the first-choice website for single Cubans, and what’s even better is that lots of our members are hoping to meet a man with your looks and personality. Thus, this website can be regarded as one of the Cuban dating sites. Being an American dating site at the beginning of its creation, now this site has surpassed the borders of the country and serves mainly as the international dating platform.

Let me guess. You went to Cuba for a long weekend and met a seemingly mysterious and charming local at Fabrica del Arte or at some other paladar in with live music. One kiss and exchange of social media handles later and you’re officially in a relationship. Welcome to Dating a Cuban.

Cubans are notorious for their charm and their confidence toshow you it. We don’t blame you forfalling in lust in a weekend. No one does, not even Camila Caballo in herfamous “Havana” hit song.

Free Cuban Dating Sites

But, I hate to break it to you,you aren’t alone.

If I had a dollar every time someone messaged me (onInstagram) a version of that story, I could buy an overly priced motorcyclealready on this damn island.

Dating a cuban and the love culture in general here is hard to explain and even more complicated to understand. Though, anyone who’s spent significant time here knows what I’m talking about.

In some unspoken language, we all do. We all know what’shappening and we all keep our mouths shut. I mean, after all, it isn’t ourbusiness. But I’m willing to share a few observations I’ve learned over theyears.

So before you recharge a cell-phone or send any moneythrough Western Union, let me try my best to describe and give you some tips onhow things work here on the island of lust.

And by no means is this a blanket explanation of every Cuban-foreign relationship. I myself would be a hypocrite to state that, as I am a Cuban-American engaged to a Cuban-Russian born (its complicated…).

So no, this does not apply toeveryone. But it does, indeed, apply.

1. Cuba’s Bad Economy Creates Avenues of Desperation

First things first: Cuba’s economy. It’s no surprise to anyone that Cuba isn’t exactly experiencing its “Golden” age.

With wages low and opportunities even lower, for many theCuban dream no longer is a dream inside the country.

Cubans look north. They look south. East and west. Just about anywhere but Cuba for their dreams for a better future.

It’s something everyone here seems to have in common. Itunites the country in some bizarre melancholy way and everyone talks about it.It’s the social glue that bonds us all together.

And because of this, Cubans have tried various differentmethods to leave the island or make their situation on it much morecomfortable.

That’s where you come in.

2. Dating a Cuban 101: Jineteros

To the seemingly naïve foreigner,many don’t know what a “Jinetero” is. Though, in Cuban culture, ‘jinetero” is aterm we grow up with.

Jineteros or Jineteras in thesimpliest form are hustlers in any way but most known for being in the sex industry.Whether for a day, a week, or for an entire relationship.

Yes, I said it- an entirerelationship.

We have met some jineteros thatwill fake being in love to continue an ongoing relationship with a foreigner. It’sa sad truth, but it does happen. They will have their own families on theisland and when the foreigner comes, their partner vacates the home and therest of the family plays along. Theywork together for the week.

Of course, like I said not every relationship is this way but if you expect to be dating a Cuban you will absolutely have to know what a jinetero is.

3. It will Be an Expensive Relationship

Expect to pay…. For everything. Unfortunately, few Cubans have the money totake their partners on a proper date to wine and dine them. That shit doesn’t happen here.

If you’re used to your partnerstaking you different places and having them pay or sharing costs, this will definitelytest you.

Because besides the costs ofgoing out to dinner and dates, you will have to get to Cuba and most likelygift them things they and their family needs. Oh yes, the. Family is alwaysincluded in Cuba. Always.

The real costs are maintainingthe relationship. Want to call Cuba?EXPENSIVE AF

Want to talk to them on theinternet? EXPENSIVE AF

Want them to leave the country with you to start your life together? SUPER SUPER SUPER EXPENSIVE AFFF FOR YEARS.

But if they are worth it, then you won’t care. Here are some apps you’ll need in Cuba.

4. Cubans Cheat… A Lot

I know this is particularly hardand uncomfortable point to write, but they likelihood of your Cuban cheating onyou while you’re not in Cuba is enormous. Whether you’re okay with it or not, its really apart of the culture.

And weirdly because its so prevalentits still taboo to talk about. Its likewe all know its happening but pretending its not.

Ojos que no ven, Corazon que nosiente (Eyes that do not see, heart that does not feel).

Really though: Cubans cheat andthey do often.

When there’s nothing to do all day and the culture very open with sex in general, the field is wide open. Plus its also very hard to find out what you’re partner is doing inside the low connected island all day.

I recommend having an honesttalk with yourself and your partner about what you expect and your values.

5. Dating a Cuban = Moving Incredibly Fast

Cuban Dating Websites For Us

I’m laughing writing this pointup but here’s a typical storyline:

Day 1: You meet and have fun

Day 2: You Meet the Family

Day 3: The Proposal

Ok that’s a bit of anexaggeration, but true. Cubans date insanely fast compared to foreigners.

Cuban Dating Website

For example, foreigners take months to decide if they are actually in a relationship or not, Cubans are moved into their in-laws in a month, have a ring, and call each other “maridos (husband/wife).

I’m serious.

In conclusion, don’t be weirded out (and I am warning you) If you get proposed to on your 3rd or 4th visit and already having their mom calling you her son or daughter in law.

If you think its going too fast,just try to explain to your partner how things are a bit faster than what youare used to. Don’t feel pressured into things if your gut is telling you somethingelse.

Overall:

Cuban Dating Sites

If you’re traveling to Cuba as a female solo or in a group, please please read my tips on female travel in Cuba. In short, Cuba is a fun and extremely safe place for females. You’ll just get lots of catcalls! 🙂

Cuban Dating Sites

Catching a Cuban eye is veryvery (extremely) easy to do, but knowing what to expect is hard. They will charm the shit out of you but youhave to be careful who really has good intentions, as in any relationship, withanyone, from anywhere.

Many Cuban-Foreign relationshipsare very beautiful and we know many long -lasting ones so of course take this blogwith just precaution.

All I ask is that if he or sheis constantly asking for money or material items to do a hard look. I advisestrongly against be sending large amounts of money on the regular to your Cubanboo.

In other words, have fun and be safe!

If you need help planning, as always let us know!

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jenniferhettenbach · 3 years

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Our Last Goodbye

Sometimes when you're a kid, adults can seem bigger than life. These forces that come into your life and teach you things, both good and bad, both healthy and not so much leaving their impression in who we become. But as you grow and age, you step outside those shadows of adults, of mimicked behavior and start making a shadow of your own, and sometimes, when you see that person you thought you knew so well from outside of their shadow, from a different angle, things can sometimes appear differently in a way you hadn't expected.

My grandfather died last night. He was eighty-five years old, and the last year or so had been really down hill for him as his health slowly deteriorated to the point where he could no longer live alone, something he had done since his divorce from my grandmother back in the late 70's early 80's.

My grandfather was a big part of my young life, taking care of me, helping with the expense of me, and being an escape rout for when my father's wife became more than I could handle. He was one of the few people I knew that stood up for me, at least in the sense of telling my folks when he thought they were doing it wrong, something I would inherit when I had my own three kids. He also bailed me out of a lot of trouble, usually money wise, when I was a teenager and young adult. And I had my fair share of trouble.

After my first marriage ended like most of my family said it would, in a mess and I was suddenly single with two small boys, he was there. He helped me whenever I needed it with money, food, a sitter for the boys. He did all the things for my boys that he had done for me, and just like when I was a kid when he thought they were parenting the wrong way, I heard about it, weather I wanted to or not.

After first returning home, I found the constant demand for his way a bothersome annoyance, but one I had to deal with because of all the help he had given me over the years. I had also been through a stressful ordeal with the ex, stress that didn't go away with the signing of divorce papers. I wasn't exactly trustworthy of my decision making skills, but as time went on I started to resent the fact that I because I had taken money and help from him, and if I ever forgot that little tidbit he was more than willing to throw it in my face.

As the boys and I grew older and I became more and more confident in my parenting, remarried, had a wider support system, I was still having arguments about hair cuts, styles, clothing choices, punishment styles, even when the boys were sick the review of weather they should be taken to the doctors office or not, and if the doctor had given the child the right medicine after we returned. And as we all grew up little by little the problem only became worse.

When my new marriage produced a daughter, the focus then became tallying how much of what came from who and if the boys from my first marriage were being significantly compensated. The idea that I had any control over this was laughable, but even more so was the idea that of informing any of them that they needed to increase the attention/gifts/money spent on one child over another.

But the real problem, the one that took away my ability to be manipulated, forgive or even let slide came in the form of undermining my parenting when my middle son who had become overly dependent and some say addicted to his video game console. When my sons temperament became violent because of loss of a game or a turn or even someone online talking trash to him, would spark these brutal outbursts that could range from a smashed controller or headset to a fist through the wall to the police being called because he was smashing a pipe into the windows of the car.

After one such incident, he had been grounded from his video games for bad behavior in school. An action which sparked a rampage of substantial magnitude featuring a broken flat screen, broken steps, and more than a few blows at me before he fled the scene headed for my grandfathers house a few blocks away.

I called the old man to let him know the storm that was headed in his direction and that I had already called the police and they should be right behind him. My grandfather asked me what had happened, I proceeded to tell him, including the part about my sixteen year old son hitting me and pushing me down to the ground. And this mild mannered, rarely raised his voice man I had known all my life, screeched at me like some kind of banshee.

"You are a liar!"

You know when something happens that you never in a million years expected to happen so when it does happen it takes a minute for your brain to let in the fact that it happened? That is the stunned feeling a have for a brief second and I tune out, trying to process what I just heard. My grandfather still screeches and when I tune back in, I wish I hadn't.

"Its you and that husband of yours doing hitting him! And now you are trying to put the blame on him!"

Now, I have never claimed to be a saint, I’m not even in the neighborhood of saint, in fact, in my teens and early twenties I did some really shitty stuff (lying and stealing) to people who I should have known better. But since then I had grown up, remarried, and tried my best to do the best by the kids. Did I always do everything right? No. But I didn't abuse them. This kind of blatant cruelness, this thinking so badly of me, this making my job harder than it needed to be, was more than I could take, and somewhere in my mind without thought or decision, whatever closeness or bond we had evaporated.

I gave him a wide berth and kept my distance the best I could. We had come to some fork in the road, and I knew we were unable to continue further. I didn't hate him or even dislike him, he just wanted things I could no longer give him; a little girls admiration.

When I was informed of his passing there were no tears, no pain, no influx of emotions I often found with others. I didn’t even feel a loss. There was nothing. Nothing until I opened my mouth to say it out loud, to hear the words my brain knew but my heart had yet to hear; “Royce passed away last night.” Only then did the emotions hit me like a brick to the face. The air rushed from my chest and my vision blurred with tears. My husband who I had said it out loud to, said “What did you say?” But I could not speak again, could not push the words past the sudden lump in my throat.

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jj-ktae · 4 years

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Protect me not - Chapter 1 -

Title : Protect me not Genre : Soldier!Au, Action, Angst, Fluff Pairing : Mark Tuan x Fem!Reader Words : 3597 Summary : You’re just a university student, they are part of a hidden force in the Army. Their duty is to protect you from the people who want you dead. Their plan? Do whatever it takes to succeed. It’s the very first time they get handed such a job, so it’s no surprise when one of them gets involved more than he should be.

AN : It’s a rewrite from a series I started back in 2016 on another website so if you already saw this around the internet, don’t freak out.

Every chapter will have a picture, always ‘from the past’ and in different locations all over the world. Obviously, the locations won’t match with where the pictures were actually taken. I will use them as photos taken during previous missions.

Credit to @softseunies for the picture!

Teaser /

Chapter 1

“Food is the best.” Seven boys are walking down the streets, enjoying a well-deserved day off. It’s a sunny day with many people walking around, something they have yet to get accustomed to.

It’s been two days. Two days of coming back to old habits and finding peace in the comfort of their home.

“Jackson, you got drunk so many times that I’m surprised you are still alive.” One boy answers, tone mocking.

“It’s not like we almost all died because of Bambam.” A third person adds.

“It’s not my fault!” Said Bambam sounds outraged, his accent getting thicker with each word. “You tell me to press the detonator, so I press the detonator! This is because the initial plan was a failure. Jinyoung thought we could kill twenty Russian Mercenaries in fifteen minutes…no wonder we almost died.” Bambam adds, tone accusing.

“The plan was just fine!” Jinyoung snaps, “If Youngjae could actually use a computer, it would have been easier for you.” His mocking tone makes them laugh.

“I can use a computer, not a Russian computer. Yugyeom played online games and it all turned gibberish!” Youngjae is quick to answer, hitting Jinyoung on the back with a loud scoff.

“It doesn’t matter, we’re all here, right? You’re so tiring, kids.” One very annoyed boy chirps in, jaw tensed and eyes dark.

Jackson agrees, repeating the same sentence in a falsely angry tone, sticking his tongue playfully toward the rest and laughing when a couple of cursing words are thrown his way.

“As I said,” Jaebeom adds lowly, “you’re so tiring.” He opens the entrance door of a little building, trying to busy himself with anything else but the constant bickering of the boys he calls his team.

“Well, I miss Russian women.” Bambam presses on the elevator’s button, mouth curving upwards and eyebrow wiggling.

Jinyoung snorts, rolling his eyes because how on earth did Bambam become such a womanizer?

“Mark was the luckiest, and he didn’t even touch any of them.” Jaebum muses before wriggling his brows at the latter, who still hasn’t uttered a word.

“So much for calling them kids…” Said boy barely sighs, not the least surprised by their behaviour.

None of them are normal.

Jackson puts an arm around his shoulders comfortingly, whispering about how much of a pro his friend is.

“I don’t get how you can think about this even when you have guns put on your temple.” Mark answers, eyeing the boys as they are busy mimicking weird dance moves.

They shrug, not getting how much of a problem it is to think about their needs, no matter the situation.

“If we could put all the shit off of your head, they would be room for a real brain, actually.” Mark’s comment makes them laugh, not the least annoyed by what he implies.

“Bastard.” Is the only answer he receives.

The day is quiet, with no major events and too much noise. The group of boys barely came back from their last mission and can finally rest – and Jaebeom would hardly call it that way if you ask him – while doing nothing.

But it never stays that way.

“Come here! The major is on the phone.” Jaebum’s voice makes them stop to go to the living-room, where he is sitting on the huge couch, eyes serious.

“Sir, yes sir! Private Im Jae beom speaking.”

They all hear some shuffling on the phone, followed by quick whispering. The major looks busy sorting things out so they keep quiet, waiting for what seems to be important enough to call them while they’re off-duty.

“You’ll be on duty starting tomorrow. The next mission is in South-Korea. The name’s Y/N. She’s 25 and is a university student at Korea University. The mission is to Keep her safe. I sent the mission’s content to Private Choi Young Jae. You have until tomorrow to agree on a plan. If the target dies, we all die. You’re all dismissed.”

Youngjae is quick to grab is laptop. His fingers fly on the keyboard while the rest gathers around him. He opens a file that turned them all silent, too busy reading.

Y/N, 25 years old. University student. Main mission: Infiltrate the university and keep her alive. Second mission: Discover the secret behind a chemical medicine called Orion. Means: Full permission.

You are all part of the university now.

Im Jaebum: University supervisor Mark Tuan: Student, International Transfer from the US. Jackson Wang: Student, International Transfer from HONG KONG Park Jinyoung: In charge of tutoring and academic support. Choi Youngjae: Information Technology worker. Bambam: Student, International Transfer from THAILAND Kim Yugyeom: Security volunteer.

Here is a file with all the information about the target and your false profiles.

They all look at each other.

“Looks like a shitty mission.” Jackson says.

“I’d rather go back to Russia. What do I do, do I tell them not to run in the hall?” Yugyeom sighs, not the least convinced.

Mark points at Jackson and Bambam who bat their lashes at him before coughing loudly, not liking the team choice.

“You three are too unstable to actually work at a university.” Jaebum seems to hear Mark’s silent plea and smirks when the later closes his eyes, already done with them.

Y/N lives in Apgujeong, Gangnam. No relatives. One friend: Kim Yebin. Majoring in Marketing. Working part-time at a convenience store in Apgujeong. Background: Dr Cheol’s daughter and only alive member of his family. Here is a picture. She mustn’t discover about the mission. You will be dismissed as soon as she knows it.

Tomorrow, 8 a.m., Korea University.

PS: Report is every night at 9 PM

“That’s all?” Jinyoung says. He doesn’t know about what they should do, but he can already tell this isn’t going to be easy.

“I’m going to be a university student!” Bambam boasts, already overly confident because he is going to be such a perfect student, he can’t wait.

If only they knew.

*-*

It’s barely 8a.m when you hear your best friend complain loudly. The day barely started, but all she can do is whine at how you didn’t let her grab some random guy at a party. Her voice is too high for someone who woke up less than an hour ago.

“Better thank me rather than sulking. If it wasn’t for me, you’d have slept with him.” You stop midway in the stairs to point a judging finger at her dishevelled state.

She starts sulking, her face a tad swollen from her wild night.

“You have a boyfriend! Next time you want to do this, just…don’t do it while I’m here.”

“But you’re my best friend!”

“That’s right, that’s what best-friends are for, Yebin.” You conclude, feeling apologetic because Yebin totally looks exhausted despite her silly grin. “My first class is English. How about you?”

“Economy. Meet you at 12, same place?”

You wave at her, hurrying before it gets too late. The class is barely filled with students when you enter the room, head dipping in your bag and feet fast as you pick a sit somewhere calm.

Calm is what you aim for, no matter what.

It has been that way ever since your father died. Well, even before that, considering he spent most of his life locked in his laboratory to work on things that were out of your reach.

When he died, you decided to continue your own way, because there wasn’t a lot you could do anyway. You were not sad nor happy, and every day was more like a calm road. University was great so far because there were so many people that you were barely noticeable in the crowd.

English is the most bearable class and you could even sleep, sometimes. As the teacher enters, a simple wave serves as a greeting before a suitcase falls on the long desk.

“We’ll be working on a text about stock exchange and monetary system. I’ll put the course on the internet platform so just take notes.” A huge text appears on the whiteboard and the teacher sits, ready to read the exact same sentences with a monotone voice.

You take your laptop off your bag and start taking notes but it ends up looking like a mess when you notice you won’t be able to concentrate.

And you can totally thank the three boys in front of you for making things harder than they already are.

“Fuck you, I don’t understand!” One very agitated young guy whispers, hair wild and clothes shiny.

“Shut up, just sit down.” The second guy answers. He looks bored and it seems his arms are crossed over his chest in a laid-back manner.

“I’m going to hit you, Bam.” The third one is a bit bustier, you notice it from the way his arm looks huge as his head rests over his hand.

“I’m Thai! How would I know about Sock exchange!”

One of them whispers a soft it’s stock exchange, making the guy laugh, not even embarrassed.

You shake your head, blaming your lack of concentration on the lack of sleep. You can do this. You can totally listen to-

“What’s the point in taking this class if I can’t follow.” You end up glancing again just as the agitated guy leans, arms going behind his head.

You don’t remember seeing them and you’ve been taking this class for quite a few years now.

The teacher starts explaining about what you’ll have to do for the next class, which includes a series of questions about the text and a presentation of the stock exchange and how you think it would work, based on three big companies of your choice.

You sigh yet don’t stop typing, not ready to spend more sleepless nights. You hear the guys in front of you complain about having homework while the skinny one laughs and when the busty guy tries to kick him under the table, his arms almost knock your laptop over the little desk. He turns around hastily.

“Sorry! Did I break it?” You are finally able to see his face, surprised by his perfect switch into another language to address you.

You just shake your head and the guy gives you his best goofy smile. “It’s boring, right?” He adds before the quiet guy’s voice cuts him, icy. You’re not sure but he seems to be talking about distracting other students.

“I almost broke her laptop! Just listen and leave me alone!” He raises some protective arm and proceeds to engage in a heated argument with his friend about how university is also supposed to be about being friendly.

You stay put, blinking at the two when a deep and icy voice startles you. He seems to be trying to threaten his friends but they barely listen to him and soon the guy turns again, hand going up in a polite manner.

“My name’s Bambam, I’m a transfer student from Thailand.” He extends his hand, smile cheeky yet looking genuinely friendly.

“Y/N” He nods and shakes your palm, his eyes shining. He gives you one last smile before turning around, avoiding his two friends’ death glare.

When the class ends, you were barely done answering the questions and your text was full of mistakes. You give up, putting your stuff back into your bag and proceed to go to your next class.

Marketing Analytics.

You enter an almost empty class – the fact that it was abnormally hard to score good grades with that evil teacher probably the reason why no one was picking this subject. You let your bag rest on one of the tables at the far end of the room and sit leisurely, ready to fight against sleepiness.

A hand on your arm makes you look up, hand freezing on your laptop.

“You’re taking this class, too!” This Bambam guy is back, with his white teeth and extraordinary fancy clothes.

“Yes, why?”

“Just sayin’. Can I sit here?” He sits down without waiting for an answer, making you narrow your eyes at the sudden intrusion.

“It’s our first day here. We need to make friends, right?” Bambam giggles, stopping when he hears exasperated sighs. You both look to the side, slowly

His two friends are literally glaring at him.

“Come and sit with us, at the front.” The quiet guy is looking at him like he is dead meat but Bambam brushes him off, already dismissing the other two take a notebook from his shiny backpack. You shrug, turning your laptop on and deciding not to engage in more conversation with the guy in hope he would let you be for the rest of the day. You hear noises and the sound of chairs moving so you assume they decided to join because a second later everything is silent again as the teacher enters.

“We’re going to continue where we left things off. There are, as we saw, tools that can help gauge how successful the marketing of a company is. What I want is the creation of your own tools. Take 4 items, explain them, and send me the report. Since this project is only going to last two hours, you’ll start now and will continue next week. The deadline is the end of next class. You can do it alone or in group. The number doesn’t matter; I just want everybody’s name written.” He puts a blank paper on the first desk and proceeds to go out of the class, leaving the students to discuss things with each other.

“That’s so cool! Let’s team!” Bambam squeals, his hand aiming for your shoulder again and making you flinch.

“I’d rather do it alone…” You try to explain, eyes reaching up to meet the guy’s pouty face and puppy eyes. He blinks cutely, looking hurt and sad to be rejected.

“We started today, we know nothing about last week’s class…” He trails off, hand stopping on his notebook and eyes looking around the room in distress.

“We’ll figure something out, Bam. It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” The busty guy leans and sends you a sorry smile before leaning back again. The piece of papers arrives at his desk and you see him write his name briefly before passing the paper.

Great, now you feel guilty. You sigh inwardly, already regretting what your next words are going to be.

“Ok, let’s do it together. I’m not really good when it comes to Analytics though…” You explain, hoping they won’t hate you later when they’ll discover their grade.

But Bambam dismisses your worries, explaining that Jackson is smart - and even the latter seems surprised by the sudden praise - while jumping on his chair.

You smile at Bambam and chuckle when he reaches for his pen to listen to whatever you’re going to say.

They know a bit about analytics and Bambam was right, Jackson is rather smart. He translated a couple of sentences from English to Korean and it helped them a lot. Bambam noted everything down, teasing his friend yet complimenting his skills. The third one was silent and didn’t say much so she didn’t push him. The two others were already taking a lot of your space anyway.

You noticed they can be quite noisy, too.

When the class ends, you take your stuff and leave before they can greet you, eager to find your dear peacefulness back.

The three find themselves alone in the classroom and it doesn’t take a minute before Mark speaks, shaking his head and looking terribly annoyed by the situation “If we weren’t in a university, I would have already attached you to a car and took the speedway.” He threatens, a hand reaching for his scalp to rub his locks messily.

“We need to make sure she’s alive! What’s so bad about being friends with her? It’s not like we can stalk her! We’re not in battlefield, y’know.” Bambam answers defensively.

“I thought he was crazy at first, but it makes sense. We can’t stalk a girl like that. She might think we’re crazy, but at least we’re crazy friendly, not crazy creepy.” Jackson adds, trying to calm an obviously fuming Mark.

“We can’t be too close. Did you forget that she can’t know about this?” Mark tries to explain, feeling like he will not have a choice in what is going to happen starting now.

“You’re the weird one. We’ll watch out for her, that’s all.” Jackson concludes, putting a hand around Bambam’s shoulder as the two proceed to leave the classroom.

Picking these three as students wasn’t just some random idea from their hierarchy. The reason behind such a choice also had to do with the fact that each private had its specialty. Each of them had something they were the best at and with Jackson, Bambam and Mark watching after you, it was going to be complicated for anyone to hurt you without ending with broken limbs or a hole in their body.

Jackson is specialised in Martial art. His knowledge of the combat techniques is beyond anyone else and his agility makes it hard for anyone to win a fight.

Bambam is an expert of weaponry. His love and knowledge about guns put him in charge of supplying the group, just like his skills in craftsmanship which makes him unbeatable in this field.

Mark’s situation is not the same. He has a different background and a different path, one that doesn’t put him on the same page as the others.

Because Mark is nothing but an ex-assassin.

It doesn’t make him unskilled or incapable of protecting a target and on the contrary, his ability to do whatever is takes to succeed a mission makes him one of the most dangerous to deal with. He also has a thing for cutlery, something that he explains as something that had to do with his past.

Making the three of them the closest persons to the target wasn’t just out of pure luck and with them, you are the safest girl around town.

You meet a yawning Yebin during lunch, eating leisurely and looking as done as ever.

“I can’t believe I survived a 4 hours long Economy class.” She sighs, stretching slowly and groaning when a couple of bones crack in the process.

You laugh, “I survived a bunch of weird guys, today.” You explain, grabbing your food quietly. “Transferred students.”

Yebin can only laugh tiredly, fork dipping into your lunchbox to steal some food. “Life is hard.”

*-*

“We can’t even hang out with the guys because of their schedule.” Jackson complains as he gives his friends their sandwich.

“Seven new guy students together is a bit too difficult to hide anyway.” Bambam answers, aiming for a calm spot to eat.

Mark is silent, eyes scanning the unknown place because all of this is so not familiar. Students run, others are asleep in the park, he can see guys flirting with girls, others playing football.

He sees his two colleagues go toward the park and follows, glancing around from time to time. He is not used to such commotion, unless it comes from a battlefield or a fight. This place makes him go on alert so much, because everything is unpredictable and he feels like something would run into him any minute. He sees the target with her friend and puts a hand on Bambam, signalling him to aim for a spot not far from the two.

“She’s at 6, don’t turn around, Bam.” Jackson says, looking at his food. “I suppose it’s Kim Yebin.” he adds.

Bambam groans “I wanna see too! Is she hot?”

“Can you stop this?” Mark turns to them. “We don’t give a shit if they’re hot.”

“Correction: You don’t give a shit. We do. We get stuck with you party pooper and we don’t even get to check out on girls.” Bambam claps his hands at Jackson’s sharp comment, nodding in appreciation.

Mark gets up silently and leaves the two guys, which doesn’t even worry them. Bambam grabs the opportunity to sit next to Jackson before grabbing his pink sunglasses to let them rest on his nose.

“Is this your cover? You look stupid, Bam.”

Mark decides he’d be better off alone. He isn’t surprised when his friends don’t try to stop him. It’s a habit; he’d leave to go on his own and appear when help was needed. Mark isn’t one to put up with such stupidity and he knows better than strangle them in public, so might as well isolate himself and check on the girl alone.

He sits in another corner where he could see her without revealing himself. She is chatting happily, smiling and pushing the other girl whose cheeks are turning red from all the laugh.

She looks like a normal girl.

What could possibly be the cause of such a mission?

Mark tries and observes. He looks at the way she stares at the crowd, how her hands play with her jacket, but nothing strikes him. You’re just a university student. Mark isn’t one to think for too long. His thing is running in the heap, cutting bodies and finishing the work, making sure everyone was still alive.

Jinyoung calls him the Punisher because he is killing faster than a heartbeat, or so to speak. He isn’t just an emotionless military dog, but his character is one of an executor, and it had been this way for 10 years now. Thinking of a plan is usually Jaebeom’s role, his objective being making sure nothing could stop them. Mark sighs when he understands he’d only be baby-sitting.

What a shitty mission.

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

Text

Love Error

milkandheonnie said:

I am probably too late (as always), but it's worth a shot: I dare you to write Woong in your Becoming Human world.

Pairing: Jeon Woong x reader

World: Becoming Human (read HERE)

Genre: robot au / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 3051

You weren’t too worried about the complications of taking your work home with you. Sure, you had been debriefed before leaving the lab and it was no secret within the company that falling in love with your work could be a possibility.

After all, your team leader was complete proof of that. Leo had fallen in love with Yerin and fought through everything that separated them from having an organic connection, one that indicated love could exist between anyone.

Even between a robot and human.

But when it came to you, well, you had no interest in love. You were married, for lack of a better term, to your job and held no desire for anything further than that. What made your heart beat faster was watching artificial intelligence mature. When a circuit board you had spent hours on got fired up for the first run and it’s successful. As a computer scientist, you had a love for facts. For things you could see occur before you.

Feelings weren’t something you dabbled in, even when it came to your job.

“I’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry about us,” you assured Leo as he hesitated in handing over the package that contained all the information about the Woong bot beside you. You took it from his hand and smiled. “I’m only going to be working on sharpening up his errors. Nothing more.”

“That’s what I said,” a voice interjected, smiling at you both before stopping beside her husband. Kissing Leo’s cheek, Yerin then giggled. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

You grinned, despite feeling confident that what had happened to them would never occur for you. “I’ll owe you if anything does!”

“Oh, make a list of rules, even so. You don’t know how long he’ll be staying for and…” Yerin turned to look at Leo in distaste as he regarded her with a dark look and then she sighed. “It’s always better to be safe than sorry.”

“I expect a full report by the end of the week of how your testing pans out, Y/N. Shall we, my hard to please wife?”

“For that, you’ll be cooking dinner,” Yerin remarked as the couple waved you off and you listened to their banter with a warm smile before turning to the bot beside you.

Kboy Cyborgs had taken off years ago, though with the advances in robotics thanks to Leo’s near human-like emotions, they had truly changed the world. Kboys were everywhere and the first line of Kgirls was already in the testing phase. You had been working on them for some time now, so it was going to be far too easy to work with Woong over the week out of the office. He was already an established robot, though he had malfunctioned during staff training. Although he was still running online, and as you gestured for him to follow you to the underground parking lot, in which he did with ease, you had a lot to fix before he could go out and be in the world. It wouldn’t take you more than the week to fix and even though most people liked the idea of having a relaxing time away from the office, you were looking forward to this additional project.

Woong cleared his throat and caught your attention once you were both seated in your car. “So are we off to your house now, noona?”

“We are,” you confirmed as you navigated the evening traffic. It was odd to have a travel buddy when you normally drove home in silence. However, Woong was curious and asked many questions on the ride to your apartment.

Which didn’t stop once inside your home. “Wow, do you live here alone?”

“Yes, it’s just me.”

“Don’t you get bored? Do you own a cat? My sources indicate a lot of people who are live alone have feline companions. A dog, given your dedication to the lab, would be impractical.”

You stared at the robot and then sighed. “No, I don’t have a cat.”

“Are you allergic? Would you like one? I could search through adoption advertisements right now-”

“No, I’m fine without one, thank you Woong.”

His lips pulled together with a slight purse before he smiled and walked towards your bookshelf. “Wow, may I read these?”

“Sure.”

He then darted into your kitchen. “Should I make us some dinner? I have the appropriate functions installed to eat food. We can share our first meal together!”

You didn’t respond, feeling exhausted with how he flitted about your apartment so quickly. Was this why Yerin suggested rules? Had Leo been like this as well? You had a lot to decipher about this bot, but with how much he was chattering, you did the best thing to solve the issue. Swiftly, you reached for the button at the back of his neck, sending him off to sleep.

And then you took in a deep breath, relaxing into the silence that enveloped you.

You had no idea how anyone could live with a Kboy full time.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t leave Woong offline to get your work done. So, once you were sufficiently fed and ready to, you turned him back on, his eyes blinking rapidly as he processed new information. He gasped at you noisily which surprised you. “I was offline for three hours?! Why would you do that?”

“Okay, Woong. Let’s get some facts in place. You’re here for me to work on. Not to become my friend or anything like that-”

“But I would like to become friends with you,” he mentioned with a pout and you heaved a deep breath, trying not to focus on his expression. You felt a surge of guilt over his surprise at being shut off and it was the last thing you wished to entertain today.

You cleared your throat. “We will begin work on your processing error. I’m going to attach my laptop to you and if anything feels odd as I work, I need you to mention it immediately, okay?”

“Of course. I want to be functioning at the best I can because that means one day someone will want to be my friend.”

You tried not to play into his pettiness, ignoring the way he folded his arms across his chest. You didn’t know a lot about the living Woong, but so far your experience with the robot form was definitely more than you had expected. He seemed so polite and quiet in the introduction video you had watched earlier. Right now, he was very playful and easily offended. You wondered if there was an error in his programming there too. Then again, Kboys had evolved into becoming their own sentient beings. Base traits were installed from the idol modelling, but each bot had the ability to grow their intelligence.

This Woong perhaps was just like this naturally.

Thankfully, he was incredibly helpful during your initial testing. Whenever he found a circuit that ran too slowly or diverted, he let you know immediately. You had developed a solid working relationship already that you could appreciate. This remained the same over the next three days, and if it wasn’t for his efficiency whilst you worked – which you chose to do for the majority of your time together – you were certain you would have gone insane with all his endless chatter.

Unplugging your laptop on your fourth session, you smiled at him. “Thank you, Woong. That will be all for tonight.”

“Will you charge now?”

You smiled at the endearing term for sleep. Nodding, you got up and stretched your tired limbs. “I will be going to bed. Please, don’t make too much noise like last night. Perhaps you could read the books as you requested when you first came to stay.”

“Charge well, noona,” he said with the widest smile. You blinked, it was so genuine and you were confused at why you chest tightened. “I’ll promise to be silent.”

You awoke to a high pitched scream, jolting upright just in time for your bedroom door to be thrown open, Woong dashing into your room in terror.

You were completely distressed by everything that was happening, especially when the robot climbed up onto your bed and tried to hide behind you.

“What is going on?”

“Oh, noona! It’s GIANT!”

“What is?”

“The… the… oh my god, I can’t say it. But it’s so big and I was just sitting there reading my thirty-fourth book for the evening when it crawled my way and-” He let out an unintelligible whine, shuddering from head to toe.

You frowned. “A bug?”

“A BUG!”

“But Woong, you’re a robot. A bug shouldn’t scare you,” you explained, attempting to move him away from your pillows. You were too tired for this kind of interruption. Honestly, a bug?! A robot like Woong could kill it with ease. You knew you would have to report this behaviour to Leo, you weren’t aware of such a trait.

However, Woong refused to move off your bed. “I’m not going back out there.”

“Woong, I’m sleeping!”

“I’ll be quiet in here! Just don’t send me back out there to the bug!” he pleaded, and perhaps because you were too tired to remain awake for much longer, you waved him off, laying down again and rolling onto your side away from your work guest. Woong breathed out a relieved sigh and then laid down too. “Thank you for your acceptance.”

“I just want to sleep Woong, that’s all there is to it.”

And boy, did you sleep well. You had possibly the best sleep that you could remember. You were just the right temperature, not overly hot that you needed to kick off the blankets, and not too cold either. When you finally woke up, you didn’t quite want to get up. You were content.

It was during this moment you became aware of what was happening around you. Or, more specifically, what was on you. Opening your eyes quickly, you glanced down at the arm over your waist and felt a leg over yours. The firm chest that was imprinted in your back cradled your entire body and at first, you were surprised to find yourself so relaxed in the arms of the soundly sleeping robot.

And then you were frantic. “Woong!”

“What?” he mumbled, nestling in further. You gasped and slapped his arm off. “Why are you moving, I was comfortable.”

“You cannot sleep with me!” As soon as you were free to leap out of your bed, you did so, eyes wide when you found that Woong’s shirt had been removed. Darting your eyes to the ceiling, you attempted to calm yourself down. But your mind connected on a thought and you pointed at him incredulously. “Please tell me you didn’t infiltrate the old AI modes. You’re not in lover mode, are you?!”

“What is a lover mode? I was just charging. Besides, it was you who did it first. In the middle of the night, you turned around and snuggled into me saying I was the right temperature to cool you down and that you loved the sound of my system purring along.” Woong knelt upon your bed after fetching his shirt and threw it over his head. And then he smirked. “You even called me your cat. Are you adopting me, noona?”

“You’re making that up.”

He shifted closer. “Want to read my memory card?”

“No wonder Yerin warned me,” you breathed, shaking your head and then pointed to the door. “Out you go, it’s time for breakfast.

The humour fell from his expression, and instead, he looked concerned. “You’re coming right?”

“Why?”

“The bug, it might still be out there.”

“Oh good grief,” you chimed, heading for the door. Woong stepped in behind you, peering around you. After searching the entire space for the bug and coming up empty, Woong relaxed and started making you breakfast.

It was surprisingly a nice experience to share a meal with someone and it had become your favourite part of the day so far this week. You didn’t really talk, Woong was somewhat aware now of your prickly mannerisms, simply shooting you several smiles over the meal. You couldn’t help but feel comfortable around him by the time you were ready to work on his processing again.

Much like yesterday, you worked on his system directory and Woong helped you figure out the issues. You had already debugged three pathways and were working on the fourth when he yelped in pain.

“Are you okay?!”

“Ow, my neck!” he cried and you looked at the hand he had raised to cup it, gently reaching out to slip your hand to where it was. You gasped when you saw the bug there, darting your focus to Woong’s face. How had he felt the bite of the bug? Of course, being bloodless, the bug had just died upon contact, but it surprised you all the same.

“You, you really felt that?”

“What was it?”

“The bug, it bit you. It’s dead, don’t panic,” you added on as he went to move and he relaxed, frowning about his experience. You checked the area of his skin. “You even have a mark. How did that happen?”

“Well our skin is fired by circuits remember, it makes sense I would feel it if I can feel the touch of your hand on me as well,” he mentioned, his tone sounding thicker. You glanced down at him and away from where your hand resided, Woong looking up at you wholly. “I can feel you.”

Where it came from, even you were surprised. The words you had proclaimed to your team leader swirled around in your mind as your lips pressed to Woong’s, his own passionately moving against yours. Somehow, in the midst of the embrace, you found yourself pulled onto him, sitting in his lap as the kiss deepened. And just like the circuits you worked with day in and out, you felt a surge fire pathways throughout you. From your lips all the way to your toes, everything felt alive and open.

You were overwhelmed.

“I felt that the most,” he breathed when you pulled away, and you gasped, lifting your hand to your mouth in realisation. Woong smiled, tenderly pushing your hair behind an ear. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Remember what?”

“January seventh, twenty-nineteen.”

“That was my first day in the lab,” you replied immediately, brows knitting together. “How do you know that?”

“Because on your first day you made a mistake with a robot and cried about it.”

You stared back at him, the memory resurfacing. You had been given a simple task of placing a memory chip into a robot in your first assignment, accidentally hitting a main circuit in the process. You had been told to fix it before you went home and to learn all about why circuits were critical. That moment in time had led you to become the best at repairing circuits in the entire laboratory.

How did Woong know this though?

He smiled, gently rubbing your back. “It’s okay, mistakes happen and I’ll be fine. Just like right now, with the bug. I’m okay.”

His words felt familiar and you snapped your focus to his face. “It was you. I made the mistake with you.”

“I mean, it’s fair. I didn’t have this face back then. Or any face,” he replied, cringing at the memory. Then he smiled. “But I hoped you would remember me. You told me that I would be your favourite robot if I survived. And I have.”

“Why didn’t you tell me beforehand?” you wondered and Woong smiled. “You knew I wouldn’t let you come home with me?”

“For a closed off human, you’re pretty easy for me to read, Y/N. I think we’re meant to be.”

“Oh no,” you rebutted, shaking your head with a laugh. “I’m not about to go that far. It was one kiss.”

“We could have more,” he offered, leaning in closer. “I’ve always liked you, after all.”

You blinked rapidly, that thick tone was a curse and you were entrapped by it. Pushing Woong back, you laughed. “Easy.”

“Okay, so it’s too fast. I get it. Even though both times you’ve initiated everything, noona. Just remember that.” He laid back down and then pointed to your computer. A picture of complete innocence. You scoffed. “Aren’t we working right now?”

“What am I going to tell Leo on Monday?” you wondered aloud, heaving in a deep breath before leaning down to capture his lips again. After the kiss ended, Woong grinned up at you.

“Tell him there were more issues underlying the ones we knew of and that I need further testing.”

“Then he can do that in the lab.” Woong shook his head. “I only trust you inside my mind.”

“I don’t trust you getting inside of mine.”

“Why, are you afraid you might fall in love with me?” he mused, smiling up at you.

“Well, I did make a mistake with you in the past, and you’re still full of errors. I guess it is up to me to fix them.”

“One kiss at a time?” he suggested and you moved back to your laptop, working your way quickly through his memory bank to see your name clearly there from when his memory card was inserted. You smiled.

“Let’s just see how the rest of this week goes. I might want to trade you in for something better.”

“Hey!”

You glanced up, grinning wickedly. “Well, you opened my heart up to like more than just the circuits running inside of you. I should get a model that I find physically attractive.”

“Are you saying you… wow.”

You then wrote a code into his mind, logging it there permanently. It silenced Woong as he recognised it. “I have a love error?”

“Yep, my diagnosis is that your circuits are so messed up because of me. I’ll have to tell Leo, I’ve made an error that’s going to take a while to solve.”

Woong sat up and nodded. “And since you’re so good at figuring out how to work with my circuits, I’ll definitely make sure we share that same error by the time Monday comes around.”

_________________

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anxiouslymalicious · 5 years

Text

Until we meet again.

Pairing: Ben Hardy x (fem) Reader

Summary: A continuation of "Until we’re old and grey” in which Ben won’t keep his promises.

Word Count: 2221

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, hurt and heartache, potentially slightly angsty

A/N: I planned for this to be a lot different, but while I was writing, I just couldn’t go any other way, sorry!

It had been months since your talk with Ben. You had actively tried to change a few of the things you two talked about, but for the most part, you tried to accept your flaws. Your newfound confidence had also spread online. After posting several pictures together, Ben’s fans became less vicious to you, some of them accepted that they couldn’t change your feelings for each other, others were quieted down by his community.

Over the past months, Ben had been doing a lot of work that was more local to your home in London. At times, you could even join him on set and appear as an extra in the movie. Either way, you were glad that you got to spend more time with your boyfriend. Or that’s what you thought.

It was late at night, something around 2am and you were in a hazy state. Sleep tried to take hold of you, but you tried to resist. The episode of Brooklyn 99 that was running in the background was long abandoned, though and you were fighting to keep your eyes open. You had gotten up way too early that morning so you could join Ben on his run before you got ready for work, but you had to stop and go back home after only half the route Ben had in mind. It was too much for you and you were exhausted. Normally, you two wouldn’t run that far, which confused you, but you simply decided that he was overly enthusiastic that morning. When you came home, you took a quick shower before making a quick breakfast for both of you. You were hoping to catch Ben before leaving for work, but you didn’t. You left him a quick note, telling him that you prepared breakfast for him which was on a plate in the fridge, that you loved him and couldn’t wait to see him again that evening.

But you didn’t.

You fell asleep not long after you had started another episode on Netflix, still waiting for the familiar sound of his keys unlocking the door, the tapping of his feet as he sneaked inside, desperately trying not to wake you up or the quiet ‘good night, princess’ that he would whisper when he finally got into bed and wrapped his tired arms around your only half asleep body.

But it never came.

The next morning, you figured out that he had gone to the gym for several hours again before crashing on the couch. You decided against waking him, letting him sleep for a bit longer while you made breakfast. Frankie suddenly started barking happily and you assumed that Ben must have woken up and greeted her with a huge hug.

“I’m going for a run with Frankie. See you later, love.”, Ben said, leaving the flat before you could even get a word out. You only saw Ben again that Saturday when he returned to bring Frankie home and grab his gym back. In the evening, he grabbed an apple for dinner and left. According to him, he would hang out with a few friends. On his Instagram, you watched him downing drink after drink with some of his co-stars. All of them were really buff, huge men with more muscles than you thought were pretty. But to each their own.

Your eyebrows furrowed with worries about your boyfriend. And so, you decided to address it. The only problem was that you didn’t know when he would be home next. You spent your Saturday night cuddling with Frankie, desperately trying to stay up once more, but failing. At some point, you retreated and went to sleep in your bedroom. Your heart broke. Over the past years of your relationship, neither of you had ever pushed the other away like this. Especially Ben. He was never one to talk too much about his feelings, but he did curl up by your side and have you talk to him about your day. Usually, Frankie would try to push her way in between you two and get the affection she wanted.

You missed those moments. Those sincere moments. Like the one you two had when you talked about your insecurities. He was so supporting of you at that time and your relationship seemed like it reached a new high at that point, but now it felt like you two had never hit a low like this one. Probably because you hadn’t.

“It’s alright.”, you whispered to yourself as you curled up under the blankets, once more feeling alone and lonely. “Every relationship has its ups and downs. He’ll come around.”

It wasn’t long until Frankie curled up beside you, on Ben’s side of the bed. She was whimpering. Your heart felt like it had officially sunken into your stomach, the feeling unbearable. Frankie was like a furry little daughter to Ben and yourself, she meant the world to you and you hadn’t thought about how this whole situation might affect her.

“Shh, baby. It’ll be alright. Benny will come back to us. I’ll talk to him in the morning.”, you whispered to the dog, your back to the door as you petted her, trying to calm her down as much as possible.

You never noticed Ben standing around the corner, listening in on you breaking down, talking about your fears and sorrows to his beloved dog. He felt a lump in his throat, silent tears rolled down his cheek before he even noticed them forming in his eyes. Ben’s body was pressed tightly against the wall behind him, his hands curling into a ball. He didn’t know how he felt. He was mad. Mad at himself because he hurt the two most important beings in his life. But he was also mad at you because you were not talking to him. He almost felt betrayed, you asked him to talk to you and now you were the one with a problem and didn’t talk.

Ben also felt sad because he let it come this far. He never intended for his excessive workouts to have this kind of an effect on you. He never wanted for them to have any effect on you. It was just that he felt insecure.

Ben bit his lip and, in his tipsy state, sneaked back out of the door. On his way out, he called Gwil, asking if he could crash at his.

The next morning, you woke up to Frankie impatiently and nervously hopping about the bed, softly trying to wake you up. You groaned at the sunlight flooding your room and looked at the dog. Confusion marked your face as you looked from Frankie to the still empty side of the bed that belonged to Ben. A sigh escaped your lips as you concluded that he hadn’t come home at all last night. Your insecurities made your heart feel heavy as you put on some sweats and a sweatshirt that you deemed fitting to go for a walk with Frankie. It was a sweet, short walk, but you didn’t feel nearly as energised as you usually did afterwards. It was quite the opposite, really. You were almost dreading going back home, your fear of not meeting Ben there was too much. Maybe you were a little scared of actually meeting Ben there, too.

You were afraid that he might have found someone new.

Someone who was prettier than you.

Someone better than you.

You tried to shake off those negative thoughts and walked up to your shared flat. As you opened the door, you didn’t expect for Ben to be home. But he was.

“Ben, baby? How are you?”, you asked carefully. To him, you sounded almost like you were afraid he might disappear or run off like a deer if you moved too fast or asked the wrong questions. It hurt seeing Ben like that. He looked like hell. He had dark shadows under his eyes, his lips were chapped from biting onto them all the time. He had stubble growing on his face and his hair looked flat and it was unkempt. Ben looked almost lifeless.

“Y/N, we need to talk.”, he croaked. You only now noticed that his eyes were red and bloodshot, he had probably been crying for quite a while. You had to swallow a lump in your throat as you looked at his current state.

“Yeah, alright. I’ve been wanting to talk to you, love. Is everything alright?”, you asked as you sat down on the couch beside him, with your knees touching his. Your hand landed on his thigh, trying to provide him a little comfort. Ben moved a bit away, the sudden movement hurting you just as much as it confused you.

“Y/N, I think we need a break.”, he said, his elbows resting on his thighs as his face sank to his hands. He couldn’t even look at you.

“What? Why do you think so? Did I do something- “

“Goddamn it, Y/N. It’s not always about you. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t support me with what I am doing.”, Ben angrily interrupted you, his eyes glued to the ground as a fresh wave of tears filled his eyes.

“What are you talking about, Ben? When have I not supported you?”, you asked, growing irritated yourself. Over the past years, you had dedicated your life to that man. Getting up earlier in the morning to prepare breakfast for him, cooking dinner not only for you, but also for him, walking with Frankie, keeping the flat clean and keeping your shared finances in check were only a few of the things you had been doing over the past months. Your blood was boiling and you knew that it was only a matter of minutes, if not seconds until a wave of sadness was going to hit you.

“I heard you last night!”, he got up from his seat on the couch and started pacing around the room. “I heard what you said to Frankie. If you’re doing that bad, then what are you still doing here? Why won’t you just leave?” Ben’s back was to you, his hands balled to fists by his side, his body tense.

“I will not leave because I love you, Ben. And this is not you talking. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I am here for you.”, you tried your best to stay calm, your voice quivering and much softer than it had been just seconds earlier. You were not about to give up on this relationship.

“Nothing is going on. You have just become unbearable. I’ve got a lot going on and don’t need a clingy, insecure little girl to hold me back. And now please leave, Y/N,” Ben’s words stung. Not only you, but him. He didn’t know what he was doing. He didn’t want to do that. But he let his insecurities win. He wanted to take his own words back, he really did, but he couldn’t.

Hot tears fell down your cheeks and you desperately wanted to scream. You wanted to scream and feel Ben’s arms around you, telling you that he didn’t mean it.

He didn’t.

You walked to face him and tried to look into his eyes, but he never raised his gaze from the ground. He couldn’t.

You wrapped your arms around your own body tightly, trying to find something to hold on. Quickly, you turned around and walked towards the door, not even bothering to pack some clothes. All you needed was still in the pouch of your sweatshirt. Phone, wallet, keys.

“Until we meet again.”, you whispered. Your voice was hoarse and a painful sob pushed its way through your lips against your will. Ben was confused for a moment before he finally registered what you meant.

“What?”, he asked, his own voice sounding strained.

“It’s not until we’re old and grey. Our love lasted until we met again at this rocky road. And now you’re leaving me standing in the rain. But I want you to know that I will always have a special place in my heart for you.”, you pressed out before leaving behind the man you called your home.

“Until we meet again.”, Ben whispered, his heart broken, his love gone. His insecurities and fears had won. She would now meet someone who had more time for her. She would now find someone who was better looking than him. She would now learn to love a man who was better for her than him. Someone who would not let his fears of losing the woman he loved so much take over him. Someone who would not break up with her to give her the chance of meeting someone better, but someone who was the perfect man for her.

What Ben always failed to realise was that he was that, despite all his imperfections, he was that perfect man for her.

The blonde man stepped to the door, leaning his hand against the cold wood. His knees buckled, then gave in. He let his body drop, leaned his head against the door and cried. Occasionally, pained sobs ripped through his body.

Not even Frankie, who gently leaned against him, could help him ease the pain.

That was truly an extraordinary morning.

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dvp95 · 5 years

Text

can’t breathe when you touch my sleeve - chapter 10

pairing: dan howell/phil lester

rating: e

warnings: none

tags: alternate universe, slow burn, fluff & humour, tiny bit of inner turmoil wrt sexuality but trust me it’s not that deep, deeper than anticipated but still not that deep y'all this is primarily silly, eventual smut, idiots in love

word count: 4,286 for this chapter (45,795 total)

summary: Dan keeps making a fool of himself in interviews, to the point where it’s basically a meme. Now he’s got to sit down for the better part of an hour and sell his show to the YouTuber he’d had a massive crush on when he was a teenager.

read from the beginning on ao3 or on tumblr!

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"Daniel?"

Dan blinks. He blinks again, zoning back into the conversation he's supposed to be a part of.

"Er," he says, sheepish. "What was the question?"

"Are you sure you're feeling okay, Daniel?" the woman asks - the interviewer asks, fuck, this is like the sixth time he's asked her to repeat herself. "I heard you were ill yesterday, weren't you?"

He wasn't. But that is what Jaime and Patrick had sworn up and down to anyone who asked, because they're good partners in crime like that. They look like they regret it now.

"Yeah, Daniel," Jaime says, stressing his name in a way that makes Dan think she's one more fuckup from smacking him in the back of the head. He'd probably deserve it, at this point. He can't remember being this scatterbrained in his whole life, and that's saying something. "You sure you're okay being out of bed?"

The word 'bed' gets stressed too, just a bit, and Dan feels a flush creeping up his neck.

It's honestly unreasonable how he can't seem to focus on the task at hand, which is answering softball questions about the show he's worked on for three years, because his mind keeps drifting back to Phil.

Phil, who he'd left in bed with Thor, all sleepy noises and grumpiness at Dan needing to leave. Phil, who has the day off and might still be mostly naked and lazy while he waits for Dan to come back. Phil, who he only has three days left with.

Three more days in London. Two sleeps. And Dan has shit to do every single goddamn day of it.

This is a work trip, technically. They've got a handful of interviews the next two days that couldn't be scheduled for their first London stretch, and then they're going to France. That's exciting, it is, a mark of success that Dan never expected for himself, but right now he's frustrated by anything that cuts into the time he could be using to kiss Phil.

Dan is so busy remembering how Phil's mouth had felt against his that he forgets to answer the question. He can practically feel his eyes glaze over.

"Daniel," Patrick says, audibly exasperated.

It takes a lot to get Patrick to that point, so Dan ducks his head and mumbles another apology.

"He's fine," Jaime tells the very nice and concerned interviewer whose name Dan has long forgotten. "He's just got a lot on his mind right now and he's really shit at multitasking."

"Hey," says Dan. It's a weak protest.

The interviewer is a tall woman with kind eyes that crinkle into laughter lines when she smiles at him. She's dressed casually, has a denim jacket with patches and pins all over it, and Dan feels his eyes linger at the rainbow on her pocket.

What is that like? To be so certain and so confident that you can wear it on your sleeve even in a professional environment? Dan doesn't know that he'll be able to get there.

He wants to compliment her on it. It's the same urge he had in the restaurant with Phil's family, vocalizing that he wishes he could wear more nail polish. The same swirling anxiety of being judged for it follows quickly, but this time it's amplified by the recording device in the interviewer's hand, the knowledge that anything he says right now will be analyzed to death later.

Dan wants to live authentically, and he wants to get to a place where he doesn't need to hide, but he's frustrated by the reality of how much progress that's going to take. It's not going to be easy, it already hasn't been, and it's never going to stop.

Even with making a name for himself and having an audience, Dan knows that coming out publicly still won't stop strangers from making assumptions about him or demanding an explanation for the women he's been seen with. He'll have to come out over and over and - it's scary. It's really scary.

The compliment catches in his throat. He can't say it to someone recording him, no matter how kind her eyes are. He hasn't even told his grandma yet.

"I like your jacket," he says instead. He feels like a coward for it.

"Thanks," the woman says brightly, looking down at herself and tapping one of her bigger patches. "Customized it myself, obviously. It's a wee bit more colourful than you like to be seen in, right?"

The casual chirping helps Dan relax, reminds him that this is a laid-back interview with easy questions. Nobody is shining a heat lamp on him and asking for an expose on how he spent part of last night inside of another man.

He grins and shrugs. "Yeah, alright, I wear a lot of black. Sue me. I can still think colours look nice on some people."

Great. Now he's thinking about Phil again.

"Like Jaime," Patrick offers, tugging at one of Jaime's bubblegum braids. Dan still can't tell if it's a wig or not, but she smacks Patrick's hand away like it's her own hair.

"That's true," says Dan. "Jaime wears as much black as I do, though, I dunno that she's the best example."

Patrick nods, solemn. "At least her hair is interesting."

"Oi, fuck you. Sorry," Dan adds sheepishly. Even though this is an online print interview, he still feels a little bit of shame whenever he slips up and curses during an interview.

The woman - Cara? Catherine? Camilla? Ca-something? - just laughs and waves his apology off.

With an ease that Dan can't help but notice isn't quite as practised as Phil's, the interviewer moves on to questions about their other cast members. While they don't have any trouble making fun of each other, it's even more fun to exaggerate stories of people who aren't here to defend themselves.

Dan tries so hard to participate. He does. He laughs in all the right places and gives Jaime grief for not remembering something right, because he's given this poor interviewer nothing of substance. The thing is that Jaime is better at telling stories and Patrick is so dry and stoic with interrupting jokes that Dan knows he isn't needed for this. He lets them bicker over a story detail that he's long forgotten and feels himself start to zone back out.

He listens to Patrick's slow timbre, Jaime's trill of a laugh, and lets his mind drift back to where it wants to be.

Even though it's tempting, Dan isn't stupid enough to text Phil in the middle of doing his fucking job. He has to resort to checking his phone between interviews and pictures, getting more and more pouty about the lack of response to the things he's sending throughout the morning. Phil must be having a lie-in, because it takes him a couple of hours to even see Dan's texts.

ugh i should have just stayed in bed

pls send thor pics

and you pics but like give me a heads up if your dick is out im at work

i dropped my coffee on jaimes lap fml shes gonna kill me

im just so distracted lmaooo

canft believe youre just asleep thats so rude

Oh nooooooo. I always cry over spilt coffee :( you want me to bring you one? I can come hang out for lunch!

The sweet text is accompanied by a photo of Thor asleep on the sofa, his little head pillowed on Phil's knee. Phil is wearing Dan's pyjama pants and - it's hard to tell for sure, with the way the photo is angled, but Dan thinks he's got the Friends shirt on. Frankly, that should be gross. Dan wore that shirt for way too long for it not to smell like, well, his sweat, and that is objectively not sexy.

Dan feels gooey warmth spread from his stomach outwards, anyway. Maybe it is gross, but it makes him happy to think about Phil's shirt smelling like him the way that his own Yeezy shirt still faintly smells like Phil. He covers his mouth with a hand so nobody milling around will see him grinning like an idiot.

thats ok, Dan texts back one-handed. yall look comfy you should stay. i'll b back for dinner and snuggles ok?

Ok! ^_^

God, but Dan wants to be there now. He wants to be the one cuddled up with his head in Phil's lap. He recognises that it's very stupid to be jealous of a dog, but he isn't going to let that stop him.

"Hey, Howell." Patrick's voice interrupts the daydream of slender fingers carding through Dan's hair.

Dan blinks. He blinks again, looks up.

"I didn't even see you sit down," Dan tells him, bemused. They're sharing a bench in the building's lobby, not wanting to go too far in case they need to go back upstairs for more photos during the short break in their day.

"Yeah, you're on another planet," says Patrick. Dan wishes he could argue that fact. "Things went well with your whole Love Actually emergency, then?"

The reference pulls Dan up short. He feels his brow furrow as he walks through the entire film in his head. "What are you talking about? None of this happened in Love Actually."

"It's British, isn't it," Patrick says nonsensically.

"I don't," Dan starts, but then he gives up. He and Patrick are close as coworkers - friends, even - but Dan never quite understands the links that Patrick's brain makes. "It went well. It went really well. I don't know if Jaime told you everything I texted her, but I like... fully ended up meeting the family."

Patrick's eyebrows raise slightly. That's quite a reaction, from him. "You met the parents? Bro. You just started dating."

They're not in an overly crowded area, but people keep waking by them on their way in or out of the building, so Dan is pleasantly surprised to discover that Patrick can play the pronoun game, too.

"Yeah," says Dan. He doesn't want to get into the mix-up right now. He's sure that Patrick will have another incomprehensible reference when he hears about it. "But it just feels... I dunno. Right? In a way other people haven't? Maybe that's obvious."

"It's not obvious," says Patrick. He's snapping a hair elastic around his wrist idly, the gesture something Dan had thought was an expression of annoyance or frustration when they first met. Dan knows now that it means Patrick is tired, that he wants to shove his hair off his shoulders and stop it from tickling his neck. They're only halfway through their day, though, still a couple of photoshoots to get through, so he can't put his hair up just yet.

Dan knows so much about these people. He's learned it all from such close proximity for the past three years, but he also genuinely likes spending time with them. He feels, suddenly, very guilty for wishing cancellation on this thing they've all worked so hard for.

"Sorry," Dan says.

"For what?"

He doesn't really know how to voice it. He shrugs. "For being a shit coworker right now."

Patrick gives him an indecipherable look and shakes his head. "Daniel," he says, "you're not being a shit coworker."

"I kind of am, though," says Dan. "Like I can't focus at all, I'm missing interviews, and I... I don't know how much I want to go back to Atlanta. Is that bad?"

"Why would that be bad?" Patrick hums. "This is your home."

Home isn't an easy concept for Dan to wrap his head around. He hadn't had a happy one for most of his life, hadn't been able to find somewhere that felt quite right ever since he escaped that. So it's a little disconcerting when Patrick's words settle into his chest and feel like indisputable truth.

"London is home," Dan echoes, wondering it it feels just as right coming out of his own mouth. It does. His head is spinning, a bit.

"Yeah," Patrick says, like it's that easy.

Dan gives himself a little shake back into the present. He smiles, wry. "Still, I probably shouldn't be crossing my fingers under tables for the producers to shut us down."

For a moment, Patrick looks confused. Dan is all ready to apologise again, shove those feelings down, but Patrick just says, "So negotiate your contract. You know that you aren't required by law to see the show through to the end, right? You can just not come back for season four, or only come back for a couple episodes instead of a full season."

They're sat in a fairly public area, with other people walking about, but Dan could hear a pin drop in the shattering silence that rings in his ears at Patrick's use of logic.

"I," says Dan, "did not think of that."

Patrick nods. "You kind of tunnel-vision sometimes, has anyone ever told you that?"

By the time Dan returns to Phil's building, he's talked himself into and back out of quitting his job a dozen times. It's a dumb decision, but not much dumber than simply waiting for someone else to make the decision for him.

He decides to call Amy when he's in France and talk the options through with her. She's already looking for potential gigs in the UK for him, so hopefully the conversation isn't going to come as much of a surprise to her. The last thing he needs is for his agent to get upset with him over making changes in his life.

Dan's head is buzzing with it, loud enough to give him a headache. He texts Phil that he's outside and waits to be let in. He gets an intrusive domestic fantasy of letting himself in with his own key, and reminds himself to rein in this U-Haul bullshit.

"Hey!" Phil beams as he opens the door and steps back for Dan to come in. Other people live on the other floors, but Phil still leans in for a long kiss the moment the door closes behind Dan.

It sends sparks up Dan's spine and quiets some of the unending noise in his head. He sighs, leans into the kiss, wraps his arms around Phil's waist to pull him even closer.

He's cognizant of where they are, though, so he pulls back to rest their foreheads together after a moment. "Hey yourself."

"Did you have a good day?" Phil asks, his tri-coloured eyes bright and unguarded.

"Yeah, but it's better now," says Dan. He's parroting what Phil said to him yesterday, and he can tell that Phil recognises it from the little smile on his face. "You look nice. You showered just for me?"

Phil laughs and tugs at Dan's wrist, pulling him down the stairs. They've got four left feet between them, honestly, so it's a miracle nobody takes a nosedive.

"Yeah," he says as they narrowly avoid any number of broken bones. He presses Dan against the wall next to his front door and grins at him. "But it was also for the judgey moms at the dog park. You look nicer, you didn't take the makeup off?"

To be honest, Dan had forgotten it was even on his face. He settles his hands on Phil's hips and smiles. "They made me look like the best version of me, why would I erase all their hard work?"

"Mm, you do look pretty," Phil says, and Dan is lucky to have his back against a wall. His knees might have actually buckled at the praise if he was unsupported.

"Pretty, huh?" Dan asks. He tries to keep his tone dry, like it's a big joke, but Phil's big eyes just see too much.

"Very pretty," says Phil. Dan doesn't know how to handle being complimented by Phil's deep, sincere voice, but he isn't given much of a chance to react before Phil is speaking again. "But I don't know that I'd call this the best version of you. You looked really nice when you came, y'know."

"Fuck, Phil," Dan laughs, a little breathless. "I was literally gone for ten hours."

"Ten hours too many," Phil grumbles.

Dan laughs again, but he has to admit that Phil has a point. The day had absolutely dragged on with the knowledge that his probably-boyfriend was waiting for him.

"You wanna go inside, then?" Dan suggests, running his thumbs just under the hem of Phil's clean shirt. "I'll do a lot of things, but this floor is cement, mate. I'm not blowing you out here."

The giggle that's surprised out of Phil makes Dan smile so wide it hurts his cheeks. He smacks the center of Dan's chest lightly and steps back to let them both into his flat. "I was thinking we could, like, order dinner first or whatever, but I'm not going to complain if you want to switch up the itinerary."

"The itinerary," Dan mocks, looking around for a ball of fluff running directly at them as he struggles with his shoes. "Uh, where's Thor?"

"Uh," says Phil. There's colour high in his cheeks that he tries to hide by flopping onto the sofa. The sweats he stole off of Dan don't really leave much to the imagination at all, not when he's sitting like that, and Dan almost loses his balance when he stands up straight. The pink doesn't leave Phil's face, but a knowing smirk joins it. "He's in the bathroom."

Dan's heart skips like an old CD player and he laughs to mask just how fond he is. "Uh huh, and here you are acting like you were really ordering food first."

"Well," Phil says, his smirk growing, "we could still order first, it'd be at least twenty."

"Sounds like a challenge," Dan hums, coming around the sofa to sit on the other end and lean forward, kissing the sliver of skin where Phil's shirt is riding up. "Why don't you do that, and I'll go get a bloody condom."

Phil blushes, proper blushes, and pulls a packet out of his pocket. "Ta-da," he jokes, weakly. "For my next trick -"

"If you say you're going to make your penis disappear," Dan says, flat, "then I'm walking out."

They just look at each other for a long moment, like a staring contest neither of them initiated, and then Phil snorts. That sets them both off and soon enough they're laughing, Dan's nose tucked against Phil's hipbone and Phil's hand over his mouth.

"I wasn't going to say that," Phil insists, still giggling. "I wasn't."

"Sure you weren't." Dan grins up at him and slides up his body, a little less graceful than he'd imagined it in his head. He presses their smiles together and licks into Phil's mouth. A little noise passes between them when Phil's hands find their way into Dan's hair, but Dan isn't sure which of them it comes from.

The giddy feeling of laughter doesn't leave Dan's chest. He lets it make a home there as he trails kisses all over Phil's long, pale neck. He doesn't need to guess when Phil likes something - he squirms and makes these little huffs of noises, grip on Dan's curls tightening just a bit before it loosens again. It feels impossibly powerful to learn how to take Phil apart like this, like they're teenagers snogging on the sofa in their first relationship.

It's strange that this does feel like a first relationship for Dan, in a lot of ways. He loved his first girlfriend and cared about other women he's dated, but it's not the same at all.

Finally, Dan is allowed to feel all the things he's supposed to have felt when he was younger. He's allowed to let budding affection and lust and friendship all wrap up in one person.

"So, the piercings," Dan murmurs, letting his hand slide up Phil's shirt to toy with one of them.

"What about them?" Phil asks. He already sounds impatient and needy, like he had last night, and the sound of it goes straight to Dan's dick.

Dan laughs and sits up, helping Phil get his shirt off over his head. "I mean, do they do things for you? Do they feel good when I touch them? How do you want me to touch them to make them feel good?"

"Do you always ask this many questions during sex?" Phil asks, dry.

There's no point in lying. "Yeah, I tend to babble." Dan gives him a winning smile and taps at Phil's hips, a silent request for him to lift up. Phil does happily, arching up for Dan and letting his stolen sweats get tugged off. "Guess you'll have to shut me up somehow."

Phil laughs, muffling the sound of it with his palm, and shakes his head. He looks so fucking gorgeous like this, giggly and naked and starting to get hard against his thigh. Dan has no idea how he got this lucky.

"That's such a terrible line," Phil informs him, grinning wide. He doesn't seem bothered by Dan being dressed when he isn't. He just settles back against the cushions and wiggles a bit, either trying to get comfortable or just teasing Dan. Either is possible at this point.

"It's not a line," Dan protests, shrugging his jacket off and settling back between Phil's legs. He presses his mouth to Phil's soft tummy and, unable to help himself, blows a raspberry.

Phil kicks out at him, instinctive, and his tongue is trapped between his teeth as he tries to hold back giggles.

"My nipples aren't sensitive," Phil tells him, voice wavering with some combination of amusement and arousal. He drops a hand to wrap around his own cock, thumbing at the metal on the tip of it. "This is. It, like, tugs. It's nice."

Biting back a groan at the sight, Dan digs around for the condom. He impatiently knocks Phil's hand out of the way to get him hard enough that he can roll it on. The piercing just above his balls settles nicely at the bottom of the latex, almost like it's holding it in place. Dan rolls it between his fingers, watches Phil's eyes flutter closed. "And this one?"

"Not as much. Still good, though." Phil's tongue darts out to lick his lips, and Dan grins at the unconscious reminder of what he's meant to be doing.

It's not the most comfortable for them to be laid out on the sofa like this, lanky as they are, but Dan isn't nineteen anymore. His knees do not hold up the way they used to. He wraps his hand around the base of Phil's cock and lets the tips of his fingers idly play with the metal bar as he finally gets his mouth on Phil.

Dan isn't used to the taste of latex accompanying a blowjob, but it isn't unpleasant. He gives Phil a couple of long licks and then sucks lightly at the head, not sure how much pressure Phil likes yet.

That's something he thinks he'd love to learn. He wants to know everything about Phil's body, wants to make him tremble with it.

Dan is extremely offended when he glances up and sees that Phil is tapping something on his phone, but the offense settles when Phil huffs a laugh and says, "Put in for takeaway. All yours, now."

The phone gets put down and Dan tongues at the bump of Phil's Prince Albert ring through the condom. That makes Phil's breath hitch, his hips jerk just a bit.

It's been years since Dan has had a cock in his mouth, but he likes to think it's like riding a bike. He takes Phil deep, hollows out his cheeks, repeats any motion that makes Phil let out soft groans. He forgot how much he likes this, fuck.

Much like everything else, it's somehow impossibly better with Phil.

Phil keeps a hand in Dan's hair and braces the other on the back of the sofa, breathing hard, and Dan doesn't want to close his eyes and miss a fucking moment of this.

"Fuck," Phil breathes, and Dan responds with an answering moan around his dick. "Yeah, alright, that's - fuck, Dan, you feel so good, look so pretty like that."

The praise still makes Dan shudder. He sucks Phil harder, feeling the weight of Phil's cock on his tongue as he speeds up his movements.

Dan remembers blowjobs to be pretty fast. He also never gave one to a man older than twenty, though, and his jaw starts to ache once he realises that Phil isn't going to be pushed over the edge as quickly as he's used to.

He pulls off to give his jaw a break, stroking Phil and pressing his open mouth along the side of him.

"You think I feel nice?" Dan laughs, pleased by the way the gust of air makes Phil's cock twitch. "Fucking, forgot how good this feels."

"Yeah?" Phil prompts, his voice deep and breathy and so, so nice to listen to. No wonder he's so successful on the radio. "You like sucking cock?"

Dan shivers. "Yeah," he says. He's unashamed, because he feels safe here with Phil. He can admit to liking a cock in his mouth, a hand in his hair, being called pretty. "Yours specifically, though."

Phil laughs. "That's good. I like specifically your cock, too." He looks over at his kitchen for a moment and raises his eyebrows. "I'll get dressed and answer the door when the pizza gets here if you can make me come in the next five minutes."

Well. Never let it be said that Dan Howell backs down from a challenge.

#phanfic #phan #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words #can't breathe when you touch my sleeve

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amphtaminedreams · 5 years

Text

To All the Characters I’ve Overly Identified with Before: Borderline Personality Disorder and Attachment to Fictional Characters

It’s been a month, and I’m still not over how Game of Thrones ended. I’m still not over the way that a character who, throughout the previous seventy something episodes of the show, was only ever ruthless towards people who were deserving of her wrath (within the context of westerosi justice because let’s not forget everyone’s favourite man of honour Ned Stark decapitated a young man for running for his life in the first episode), suddenly massacred a whole city in the penultimate episode. I’m not over the way that writers who spent the previous seasons showing that they were capable of translating the moral ambiguity of George R.R Martin’s characters from page to screen, got lazy and left us with a character whose actions became impossible to defend right as the show was ending. I’m not over the way that such a beautifully complex character who endured so much hurt and trauma was reduced to nothing more than a “crazy woman” by a couple of male writers in her final moments. I’m not over the fact that Emilia Clarke put her heart and soul into the character and did everything she could to bring Daenerys Targaryen to life for David Benioff and Dan Weiss to both literally and figuratively assassinate her.

I think those feels have been felt by a lot of Game of Thrones fans since the show ended. God knows I’ve watched enough youtube video essays and read enough articles and liked enough tweets reiterating the sentiment. Daenerys Targaryen was, in my opinion, the best character on Game of Thrones. I wasn’t angry because she didn’t end up sitting on the throne (though my boy Drogon made sure nobody else ever would either and I guess I can get behind that), I was angry because all the balance that made her character so great was thrown out the window in order to progress the story of her male counterpart and bring a show that probably could’ve done with another 2 seasons to an end. Dany has always had a dark side, she is the “fire” that the title of the book series refers to, but throughout the show, we’ve never seen her indulge that side to the point of no return. We’ve seen her wrestle with it and use it to exact punishment on those who deserve it when needs be, and that was part of what I liked about her. Not to go all feminist essay on anyone’s ass but we don’t usually get to see women in TV who are celebrated for their powers of intimidation, and I liked how prior to season 8, the narrative never made female characters like Dany or Arya or Brienne out to be monsters for killing people the same way that basically every single man on the show did at one point or another. I liked that sometimes she was a little excessive because it made sense, she did have “dragon” in her, and she still had lines she wouldn’t cross, clear values and principles; she fought for the innocent, for women and for children, and for freedom. On a personal level, I loved her because we watched her go from a lonely, scared and vulnerable girl to a strong, ambitious and self-assured woman and that was a trajectory I wanted to relate to.

And then all of a sudden, without any justification or build up at all, she’s a mass murderer of the same “downtrodden” people she always claimed to fight for. Fuck, I’m thinking. I literally watched that episode through my hands because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. When I say I cried on and off for about 3 days after I watched the final episode, I’m not exaggerating; I only need to see a screen cap now a month later or an interview with Emilia Clarke and I’m off again. It literally felt as if I was mourning the loss of a real person. But this isn’t the first time I’ve had this kind of attachment to a character. Daenerys Targaryen was probably just the last in a long list of women I overly identified with.

I’m not much like her at all really, I’ve burnt myself from taking the film off my microwaved lasagne and not moving my thumb away from the hot air in time (lmao), however, I think I saw parts of myself in her journey and traits that I wanted to have, thus, I latched on. Before Daenerys Targaryen there was Spencer Hastings and before her there was Cassie Ainsworth and then if we’re gonna throw it all the way back, there was Hermione Granger (and some other characters I was more mildly obsessed with along the way, Katniss Everdeen, Bree Van de Kamp and Cosima Niehaus, I’m looking at you). I still love all those characters now but when their respective shows or films were actually current, I was completely obsessed. I spent my 16th birthday at the Harry Potter studios on the outskirts of London with my family, forget birthday parties or meals out with my friends. I wished more than anything that I had 2 best friends that loved me unconditionally and I did my best to emulate that drive and intelligence and work ethic everyone associates with Hermione. I told myself I was just like her even though I lacked the confidence to put my hand up in all but one of my classes and last time I checked, was just trying to conquer GCSEs not fight an evil wizard snaked hybrid man or whatever Voldemort is. I identified with the loneliness and the need for control that I saw in Cassie, and was like “oH eM GeE, tHat’s sO mE!” at Spencer’s perfectionism. When I was speeding for my exams (and then, unfortunately, for long after), I felt spiritually connected to that whole Pretty Little Liars arc where Spencer started popping adderall on the daily even though I could really only wish for someone to care about me enough to stalk me like A did and the worst possible outcome of my all nighter was not taking in enough content to bullshit my way through a 30 marker.

They would understand me, they would be my friend. They represent me. That was the baseline sentiment of my obsession. And I think that’s the borderline part of me jumping out. See, such a huge part of BPD is feeling unwanted and misunderstood and forgettable and really, deeply lonely. Like it’s a kind of loneliness I think you feel like an actual person can never really fulfil because the (faulty and not necessarily reflective of reality) thought pattern is that they’ll lose interest and leave you sooner or later. Fictional characters are always there, until the show gets cancelled or the character gets killed off, at least, and then comes the completely disproportionate tidal wave of grief. They exist in a different world too, a one that feels a lot less dangerous (even if it’s actually way more dangerous, I mean I really wouldn’t last five fucking minutes in Westeros) and detached from the often chronically muted reality of BPD.

Then there’s the trouble with the sense of self, part and package of BPD for most, which facilitates, you know, thinking that a genius witch or, like, any character in skins (because in hindsight as great as that show was, WHY DO NONE OF THEM HAVE JOBS YET SEEMINGLY AN ENDLESS SUPPLY OF DRUGS AND PARENTS THAT NEVER SEEM TO CARE WHERE THE HELL THEY ARE!?) resembles you as a person in any way. Though I suppose I’m learning recently as I begin to reflect more on what I enjoy and value, I’ve never had much more than a vague idea of what my positive qualities are, so when I saw them fully realised in a character it was a treasure trove of mannerisms and traits and ways of carrying oneself to adopt. It becomes a mould into which you can squeeze the ball of meh-ness and uncertainty you feel you resemble. Now I’m realising that although it might take me a little more time and a lot more effort, it’s much more rewarding to become the very best version of myself, but back then, I suppose I didn’t recognise why I was doing what I was doing.

I only got diagnosed with BPD and started learning about it when it was 19, so all the years before that were pretty much spent unaware of the reasons why I had these quirks. As I “recover” (I suppose that’s the right word) and I get back into hobbies and spend more time with friends, I feel like I’m beginning to discover more and more of who I am. I’m starting to accept that there are positive things about me and plenty of things for people to like, right here in this world, not some fictional one.

I still love characters way too much and get overly attached and invested in TV shows but even that doesn’t necessarily have to be something to be ashamed of. When I’ve got into *ahem* discussions with people online about characters before, I’ve occasionally gotten the “why do you care so much, it’s not real life!” in response, and I mean, there’s definitely a point to be made if your passion for something is causing you to lash out at real life people with real life feelings. But when you’re not, when it can give you hours of discussion and entertainment and can drive you to make real positive changes in the world too, what’s wrong with passion? There’s nothing I love more than having a conversation with someone who I can tell really loves what they’re talking about, so why should I be ashamed of having the capacity to become deeply invested in things too? I think as long as it’s not taking over my life as I have allowed it to do so in the past, there’s nothing wrong with having passion for fictional things or for anything, for that matter. As long as it’s not something fucked up, like idk, white supremacy or Rick and Morty (JOKING).

I don’t regret loving all the things I loved because being a huge Harry Potter fan for so many years did give me an escape when I absolutely hated myself and couldn’t find much enjoyment in real life. I hope that if I do have children one day, they’ll love it too, maybe not quite as much as I did but enough for it to give them all the joy it gave me, all the same. So in summary, yeah, fuck David Benioff and Dan Weiss (lmao, I’m joking, they’re just shitty original screenplay writers who could probably do with a class or two on how to write female characters), but also, understand before you make fun of someone for being overly invested in something that there’s probably a good reason for it and that, at the end of the day, they’re usually not hurting anyone. I’ll probably still be stanning Daenerys Targaryen and pretending season 8 episode 5 didn’t happen until the day I die. Let me live, okay?

Lauren x

#bpd #harry potter #Hermione granger #Emma watson #cassie ainsworth #skins #gameofthrones #got #antigot #DaenerysTargaryen #daenerys targaryen #emilia clarke

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detectivedreameater · 3 years

Text

Asking Too Much || Anita and Marley

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @professoranieves and @detectivedreameater SUMMARY: Anita shows up wasted at Marley’s to yell at her. CONTENT: Heavy Alcohol Use

Anita was drunk. Sure, she drank a lot before she was painfully dumped by the only person she let get close to her in almost 15 years, but now she really drank. The meaningless hookups actually felt meaningless now. All of her solo activities that she used to love just made her feel empty. Even going home to Mexico didn’t feel right. There weren’t enough mexican beauties to get Marley off her mind. Which sort of explained why after drinking … far too much out at a bar she wound up giving the cab driver Marley’s address instead of her own. The driver was talking to her asking why she didn’t get out of the car yet. For a moment she thought about telling him to bring her to her actual house, but then a rush of alcohol-induced confidence took over and she paid the driver then walked up to Marley’s door. She banged on the door, fully unaware of the time or even if she’d actually be home. But she had some shit to get off her chest.

Marley had felt sick and tired almost constantly the past few days. She didn’t fully understand why, but she did know it only started after her meet up with Dakota, and after her terrible conversation with Anita online. She’d spent most of the night tossing and turning on her couch, trying to concentrate on a TV show, but it ended up as mostly white noise in the background. And it stayed that way for several hours. Her head hammered and so did the door. That was strange. She sat up, staring at the door. If it was Erin, she’d just come in, she didn’t need Marley to come open it for her. But after a moment, the banging came again, which meant it wasn’t Erin and that was even stranger, because there was literally no one else Marley could think of that would want to drop by at 2am. Groaning, she hoisted herself up off her couch and dragged herself over to the door. “Hold on!” she called out, rubbing her eyes and putting on her glasses-- just in case-- before turning to the door, scraping a few sticky notes off the wood, and opening it. “What do you-- Anita?” startled, she blinked, took off her glasses, as if maybe she were seeing something or hallucinating. “What-- why-- you’re here?” she looked around. Had she come to the wrong place? “Why.”

The reality of what Anita was doing really sunk in when Marley opened the door. She had gone so long without seeing her face, without seeing her body. It was the longest they’d been apart since they first met and instinctively she felt a pull to just wrap her arms around Marley and feel how perfectly their bodies fit with one another. But that wasn’t why she was there because no matter how much she wanted that she knew Marley didn’t anymore. “Why am I here?” She asked, just repeating the words she had heard with a slight slur. “Because - cause I’m fucking angry, okay? That’s why I’m here.” She wasn’t sure why she didn’t notice at first, but as soon as she saw the jacket Marley was wearing she stopped for a second. Mostly because she realized she was wearing the charm Marley had given her around her neck still. Fuck. Without acknowledging any of it, she quickly reached up and tucked the necklace into her shirt. “And you’re the reason I’m angry. So I decided to … well I was in the cab and then I was here and, just… fuck - you’re the worst, ya know that? You’re the fucking worst because you said that I was different and then… and well, you fucking lied.”

It became clear the second Anita started speaking that she was drunk. More than that, actually. She was absolutely wasted. Marley could smell it on her breath, and see it in the sway. She thought about inviting her in for a moment, but that stubborn anger inside of her made her close the door so that it was only her frame in it and she looked at Anita through tired eyes, removing her glasses. “You’re drunk,” she said quietly, glancing down, “go home. Tell the cab you gave him the wrong address. I’ll give you cash if you need it.” She straightened up a little, turning back to the little door side table Erin had set up for her with all her important belongings to take out on it were. Her waller, her keys, her badge. She didn’t want to make this last longer than it needed to, because looking at Anita, hearing her voice after all this time, was making her chest hurt and burn with her sorrow. “And I didn’t lie,” she said under her breath, turning to look back at her, holding out a twenty dollar bill.

Anita pushed away Marley’s hand as she tried to give her money. “I didn’t give him the wrong address and besides he already left.” She wasn’t really sure about that part because she hadn’t seen him leave and she wasn’t really in the mood to turn around and look. Regardless, she was already there and even if all they did was yell at each other for some reason this felt better than being all alone or even with someone else. “You did though. Or it didn’t matter enough to mean anything. You never seemed like the kinda person who didn’t fight for what they wanted. So don’t try to tell me this isn’t what you wanted. Yet what do you do? Send me gifts?! Gifts you didn’t intend to even fucking send? What’s that shit? And ok? Yeah, I skipped town. You could’ve called though. If you were worried or whatever. But did anyone reach out to me? No. Not you, and not Morgan.” She was talking so fast and not even realizing what she was saying. In fact she wasn’t entirely sure she was even speaking english by the end of that. Which made sense, she often switched to spanish when she was drunk or overly worked up, and tonight she was both.

Marley doubted that was true, but she wasn’t about to point that out. Anita was mad enough without her being nit-picky like that. At any other time, Marley would have been plenty okay with Anita standing there yelling at her, but as it were, her head hurt and she was beyond exhausted and she’d actually fucking cried-- angry tears-- earlier that day because of Anita. And this was all her fault, and she had no right to feel this way. She pocketed the money and threw her wallet back down onto the table, turning to head into her house, letting the door swing open for Anita to follow her in if she wanted. Which it seemed like she did, if only just to yell. “Would you even have picked up if I called?” she asked, going over to the counter and popping open her pain med bottle. If Anita was here to argue, she’d need it. “Don’t, Anita,” she said in a low voice, still hunched over the counter, “just...don’t. Okay. You don’t know anything about how I feel or what I want or why I did that. Because I don’t know any of those things. So just-- be mad, or whatever, but just stop. Stop saying I didn’t care or that I didn’t want you. Because it’s not true.” It was never a lie.

Anita rolled her eyes, not really at anything in particular just because it felt like the right thing to do. She was tired of hearing Marley say the same fucking thing. Without giving it any thought she followed Marley through the front door into her place, the pain of being back there hitting her all at once. “Yeah, I would have.” She really didn’t know if she was lying about that one. It probably would have depended on the day. “Just… help me understand. I’m smart, and that’s not me being cocky. I have two PhD’s. I’m smart. But this…” she gestured between the two of them, “this I just don’t fucking understand.” It would all be so much easier if Marley just said she didn’t want her, that things weren’t working out because they were too different or because Marley just didn’t like the monogamous lifestyle. Any explanation would be better than what she kept getting from Marley. Anita needed something to wrap her head around.

Marley turned around to face Anita but didn’t look at her yet. Her eyes burned with her struggle to keep the tears away, pressing palms roughly into them. She shook her head. “I don’t know what you want me to say here, Anita,” she finally relented, “I’ve told you all I can, all that I--” all that she understood about it, about why she’d done this to them. “I don’t know what you want from me,” she repeated, even if she knew that wasn’t entirely true. She knew exactly what Anita wanted from her, she just wasn’t sure she could give it to her. She wasn’t sure she was enough of herself, enough of a person, to give Anita what she wanted, what she needed, from Marley. She looked up, then, eyes puffy and red, but dry and tired. “Just tell me what you want from me.”

As Anita looked into Marley’s eyes she felt speechless. What she needed she knew she couldn’t have. She wanted things to go back to how they were. When the two of them were together before things just felt right. Anita wasn’t afraid of having to hide who she really was and she wasn’t ashamed of what she was. Now she felt so empty, like she had found something she needed with Marley and not having it anymore left her broken in a way she never knew was possible. “I want you.” She finally admitted, though she practically whispered it. Scared to admit it to herself let alone to Marley. “I made that pretty clear the last time I saw you.” She had, hadn’t she? She felt practically mortified with how much she had begged and pleaded with her that night.

Marley fell silent as she waited for Anita’s answer. As she waited for her to give her something to go off of, something to tell her to make it all better. But the thing was, it wasn’t that simple. It never could be. Because it wasn’t just about wanting her back, or needing her. There was something missing inside of Marley and she didn’t know how to tell Anita that. She didn’t know how to look at the woman she wanted more than air and tell her she was nothing but an empty shell of the woman she used to be. And the truth was that Marley wanted her, too. She wanted her so bad, but at the same time, she wanted something different for Anita. And she didn’t know how to say any of that. “I...I mean I--” she chewed her lip, “you did. You made that-- you did.” Her gaze fell to her feet and she couldn’t keep the tears out of her eyes anymore. “You did,” she kept repeating it quietly, scrubbing the tears away. “I’m not-- I don’t know why. You shouldn’t, I’m not-- I know I--” she shook her head again, “I’m sorry.”

Seeing Marley’s response made everything worse for Anita. Just further proving that this was not cut and dry. She may have been pretty wasted but she could see the hesitations in Marley’s movements and tone. They wanted each other but Marley wouldn’t let either of them have what they wanted. And Anita was once again left wondering why and not getting any answers. Maybe talking wasn’t gonna get them anywhere. Anita took a few steps towards Marley, then with a bit more confidence she reached out and placed her hands on Marley’s hips, pulling her towards her till their faces were close. There was a soft hesitation in her movement, but Anita began to lean her face up to kiss her. Maybe if they could just do what they did best the rest would fall into place.

Marley didn’t know what was happening until Anita was touching her and pulling her towards her and their faces were so close together. And she wanted it so bad, god did she want it. But her entire body seized up when she felt Anita’s cold lips against hers and she put her hands up, pushing her away. “Anita, wait--” she said, stepping back and finding herself bumping into the counter, “we--” shouldn’t. But the word fell short. She opened and closed her mouth a few times but found no more words. “You’re not thinking straight,” she finally said, swallowing every other thing she wanted to say like ‘I missed you so much’ and ‘Please kiss me’. And everything else in between. Every thought that she’d had since last time Anita had been here and everything she’d wished she’d been able to say when she had been. She bit her lip and looked away, body still stiff. “You should...go home,” she muttered. Because Marley wasn’t sure she could say no if she tried again, if she pleaded with her again, if she asked to stay again. And nothing good would come of that. Not tonight.

Even though Anita never thought anything would hurt more than the night Marley ended things, tonight she discovered she was wrong. This hurt more. Maybe it was foolish to think that after all this Marley would still really want her. Maybe it was stupid to think that a kiss or a night in bed might fix whatever had broken between them. All she knew was that she wanted Marley so bad that her bones ached. But as she pushed her away all Anita felt was embarrassed. She took a few steps away, clenching her jaw to stop herself from screaming or crying - she wasn’t fully sure what emotion was gonna take over first. “I’m sorry…” She mumbled looking around awkwardly. “I guess I just hoped…” she let her sentence trail off. For the first time things really felt… over. Marley really didn’t want her, even as she literally threw herself at her. “I’ll leave.” As she turned to the door she felt the soft stream of tears begin to pour out and she tried to get to the door before the tears turned into a sob.

Marley heard the pain in Anita’s voice and she felt herself ache again. She felt her entire body tightening, shaking, racked with a pain she was wholly unfamiliar with-- and yet she still just watched Anita walk away. Let her walk away. She barely even had the strength to close the door, collapsing in on herself and sliding to the floor where she stood, back pressed against the counter. She let out a strangled sob as she tried to keep herself together enough to not just lose it here on the floor, but she could feel her mind slipping away from her again. Why couldn’t she just cut Anita off for good? Why couldn’t she just let Anita go? Why did seeing her like that make Marley’s heart feel as if someone had ripped it straight from her chest? Why did this feel worse than before? Why did Marley suddenly feel as if she was drowning? She wanted Anita and she’d let her walk out the front door. She wanted Anita and she was sure, in this moment, that she had ruined it for good now.

Happy fucking New Year.

#chatzy #chatzy: anita #wickedswriting #asking too much #anita #tw alcohol use

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