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novoaa1writes · 3 years

Text

honest

pairing(s): daisy johnson x nb!reader, melinda may & nb!reader (familial)

summary:

coming out is never easy—even when you’ve got reliable people in corner.

contains: angst & fluff with happy ending

(also available on ao3.)

word count: ~2,000

rating: teen

warnings: sparring, self-doubt; anxiety (not chronic); muscle pains, bruises, and aches (from exertion); mild language; coming out; discussions of gender and sexuality

notes:

in my head, this is staged at the playground somewhere in season 2-3ish of marvel’s agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

— —

disclaimer: this is in no way reflective of the experiences of all non-binary individuals everywhere. as someone who’s recently had the realization that i am Not Woman and Not Man and has been subsequently made to have some rather difficult conversations with those closest to me about changing up pronouns, this is simply based off of my own experience and struggles with my gender / sexuality. it’s a uniquely personal thing to come to terms with, and it’s different for everyone.

feel free to message me if you’d like to talk about it!

— —

You let out a long, slow breath, eyeing yourself critically in the bathroom mirror.

Nervous eyes, shower-damp skin, lower lip swollen and puffy from biting it relentlessly—an obtrusive testament to the overwhelming abundance of unease ballooning in your chest.

Yeah. Seems about right.

“C’mon, Y/N,” you grumble, taking great care to pitch your voice well below the hum of the fan overhead. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

The more insistent you become, the less you believe it.

“It’s just Daisy,” you continue, silently willing yourself to remain undeterred by the crushing doubt that gnaws away at your insides. “She’ll understand.”

... But will she?

You frown at your reflection, skin prickling with frustration. “And if she doesn’t…” you trail off, hating the quiver in your voice for betraying your weakness. “If she doesn’t, then you shouldn’t be with her anyways.” Your voice comes out stronger this time, even if the words themselves are enough to scare you shitless.

You like Daisy. Could grow to love her, even.

Being with her… it’s made you the happiest you’ve ever been in your entire life, and damn it all, but you mean that.

“She’s going to understand,” you say aloud. “She will.”

God, you pray that that’s true.

— —

7:00am sees you getting your ass thrown violently all across the mats by an ever-indomitable Melinda May, racking up bruises and scratches and aches like no one’s business.

By the time 9:00am hits, you’re a wheezing mess, sprawled spread-eagled atop the sparring mats—lungs on fire, chest heaving for breath; sweat-drenched skin littered with technicolored bruising.

In short, it’s hellish.

“C’mon,” May urges, tone curt and even. She looms imposingly down upon you from above, a decidedly unamused expression gracing her elegant features—and, get this: not a single hair out of place, nor a hint of labored breathing.

You groan and squint up at her, searching for—

A-ha!

There, just above one immaculately-manicured brow and, like, two millimeters beneath her hairline—a tiny little droplet of perspiration. As you watch, it seems to absorb itself into her flawless skin—disappearing before your eyes like it was never even there.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you grumble.

May just raises a single brow, offering you a hand up. “Up.”

You frown at her but don’t push your luck; rather, you accept the proffered hand and allow her to pull you to your feet. Your arms and legs and abdominal muscles all scream in protest as you lurch upright into a flat-footed stance, but you grit your teeth and bear it.

Training with May—torturous (and often humiliating) as it may be—is voluntary. Something you chose, and continue to choose even despite the unadulterated hell it puts your body through with every swift kick and bone-jarring punch.

Not only that, you’re lucky to study opposite someone as fearless, skilled, and fucking terrifying as Melinda May.

Even when your limbs are all ache-y and sore and burning with a pain beyond your years, you know that.

Still…

You probably could’ve done without this today. After all, getting your ass kicked for a solid two hours all across the mats doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. And, considering the conversation you plan to have with Daisy this afternoon, you’re gonna need to muster up all the confidence you can get.

— —

“Spit it out,” May prompts, sidling up to match you stride for stride as you take a couple cool-down laps around the miniature track (¼ the size of a regulation model)... walking, that is. Not jogging.

Honestly, you think that if you even tried jogging right now, you’d pass out.

You spare her a sidelong glance as the two of you round the bend, perfectly in sync. “What?”

May purses her lips, giving you a look. “You were sloppy today,” she remarks pointedly. “Distracted.”

Her stare seems to burn holes through the side of your head.

“Wow, thanks,” you mumble. The sardonic quip tastes funny coming off your tongue.

“You were off today,” May reiterates, sidestepping your wisecrack entirely. Her footsteps are soundless even as the soles of your beat-up Air Force Ones slap the tread audibly with every stride. “That doesn’t happen often.”

“Sure it does.” You shrug. “You kicked my ass today, same as always. If you ask me—” You hesitate briefly at the look on May’s face, which is plainly screaming ‘I didn’t’ “—today’s been anything but out of the ordinary.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” May remarks without missing a beat. It’s like she didn’t even hear you (which you damn well know that she did).

Still, you don’t do her the disservice of arguing the point any further.

You walk another ten paces in perfect silence—no, twelve. You know because you count each one.

Unsurprisingly, you’re first to break the immersive quiet. “I think I want to tell Daisy.”

May’s impartial expression doesn’t change. “About?”

You almost roll your eyes, but manage to curb the impulse at the very last second. “You know what about.”

Hell, May was the first person you told. You came to her quarters hyperventilating in the dead of night, tears streaming down both cheeks and a sense of such deep-seated discomfort swelling in your chest, your ribs positively ached with the force of it.

“I want to hear you say it.”

You bite your lower lip, apprehension gnawing at your insides. “About…” You trail off, internally scolding yourself. This shouldn’t be so fucking hard. “About me being… non-binary.”

Non-binary.

What a flimsy little term. So matter-of-fact… almost scientific in nature. And yet, the way it affects you is nothing short of visceral—all-encompassing and monstrous, compressing your very lungs in an iron-clad vice until it’s agony to draw breath.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts ; voicing this simple reality that’s plagued you since you were very small, looming malignantly in the margins of everything you do… and yet, the truth of it rings keen and strong in your ears—clear as a bell.

It’s liberating and frightful all in one; a grating juxtaposition, to be clear.

“Yes.” The sound of May’s uncharacteristically gentle intonation cuts clean through the blaring noise in your head, yanking you out from a sea of inner turmoil with startling decision. “I’m proud of you.”

Her words—gently-spoken as they may be—hit you like consecutive sucker punches to the gut. “What?” you choke, forcing out a breathless chuckle.

May—predictably—is staunch, unyielding… wholly undeterred. “You’re being true to yourself,” she insists, matching you step for step as you start in on lap two. Your chest burns something awful and your legs aren’t much better, but you pay it little mind. “That’s no small thing.”

“It’s terrifying,” you tell her. As far as you’re concerned, that’s something of an understatement.

She nods. “It often is.”

“What if… What if I tell her and she doesn’t like me anymore?”

May raises a single brow. “Daisy, a known bisexual who has stated on more than one occasion that the gender binary is ‘stupid’ and ‘exclusionary’? Daisy, who’s been on dates with more than one openly non-binary person in the past?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

May—bless her heart—doesn’t snort or sigh or roll her eyes, but you can tell it’s not for lack of wanting. Instead, she merely slants you a pointed look that says, ‘Exactly.’

You walk the next six strides in silence, your feet aching in your shoes.

“I’m going to tell her,” you say eventually, a tinge of cautious certainty creeping into your tone. You don’t know who you’re trying to convince—yourself, or May.

All the same, May is nothing if not steady and dependable amidst stormy seas; she always knows just what to say. (Or, what not to say, as it were.)

There are no tears, no hugs, no flowery platitudes… nothing but a sharp nod of approval and the barest hint of a grin curving her lips, like she sees you for who you are and she approves—like she’s proud, even. You don’t know how else to translate the tender mercy in her eyes, the way it seems to warm you from the inside out.

Yeah, you can tell Daisy.

You’re going to tell Daisy.

And May’s gonna be right there beside you the whole time.

— —

In retrospect, you definitely could’ve gone about this better.

Like, you weren’t exactly going for the kind of heartfelt reconciliation you’d see in some coming-of-age sap-fest movie on the big screen; and it’s not as though there’s an exact script to follow for all this, but…

Pulling away from a decidedly heated kiss to blurt out, “I’m not a woman”—and doing so while you’re half-naked and straddling the lap of a similarly scantily-clad Daisy in bed, no less—definitely hadn’t been your first choice.

Judging by the expression on Daisy’s pretty features—which is caught somewhere between taken aback and genuinely concerned—she’s coming to the same conclusion.

To her credit, though, she recovers quickly—though the crease between her brows (a testament to her lingering bewilderment) remains. “What?”

You swallow thickly, carding your fingers through her tousled hair—a nervous habit of yours you’d developed as of late. “I’m…” You sigh, apprehension building in your chest. “I’m not a woman.”

Daisy’s brows raise marginally even as she offers a shallow nod, wide attentive eyes steadfastly holding yours. “Okay…” she begins gently, rubbing circles into the bare skin above your left hipbone with a callused thumb—a subtle nudge for you to continue.

“I just—I don’t feel like a woman,” you say, and this time it’s easier, even if the sheer measure of honesty in that statement is enough to make your stomach turn. “And I don’t feel like a man, either.”

Understanding flares in Daisy’s pretty brown eyes. “Okay,” she says again. “So, you’re not a woman…” She pauses, dipping her head to place a feather-light kiss upon your shoulder. “And you’re not a man,” she continues, lifting her jaw to study you face-to-face, the tip of her pert nose brushing up against your own. “Which means… ?”

“I’m, um,” you squirm a bit, shifting atop her bare thighs, “... non-binary.” Your cheeks are hot, burning with shame, and you have never been so grateful that your skin is tawny enough to conceal it.

Daisy doesn’t blink. “Okay,” she replies, then leans forth to place a barely-there peck atop your lips.

You frown down at her, lips tingling. “‘Okay’?” you repeat.

Daisy grins, leaning in for another kiss—and you’re all too quick to indulge her even as your thoughts spin and disbelief wars violently with consternation within your chest.

Her lips are soft and warm against your own; when her tongue flits out to trace your lips, you’re parting them in an instant to meet her halfway; the sensation of kissing her is nothing short of euphoric, and you surrender willfully unto it like leaves in the brisk autumn wind.

Seconds pass, or maybe it’s minutes, but she’s catching your lower lip between her teeth and you’re sucking on the tip of her tongue and—

Quite suddenly, the kiss has become nothing short of filthy—all open-mouthed and desperate and bruising just how you like, and damn it all, but you can finish the rest of the conversation another time.

For now… well. You’re preoccupied with other things.

— —

(Later that night, when you’re both laid up in bed and drifting off to sleep, Daisy asks if you’d like her to start referring to you as ‘they’ and ‘them’ rather than ‘she’ and ‘her.’

When you answer in the affirmative, telling her that nothing would make you happier, the sheer measure of honesty in your words doesn’t feel nearly as nauseating as it did before.

In fact, it’s rather the opposite.

The way Daisy reacts—a murmured, “Okay”; a feather-light kiss upon your forehead; two strong arms pulling you closer in the dark… well. That’s just icing on the cake.

Despite everything—the self-doubt, the second guessing, the aching soreness settling into the very marrow of your bones—you feel yourself break out into a broad grin beneath the pitch-dark cover of night.

You feel good; comfortable in your own skin. You feel… happy.)

— —

end notes: i want melinda may to be my friend.

LINK TO MASTERLIST

#stuff i wrote #daisy johnson x reader #melinda may & reader #daisy johnson x nb!reader #melinda may & nb!reader #nb!reader #non-binary reader #reader-insert #marvel fic #quake x reader #quake x nb!reader

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aaluminiumas · 3 years

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Die for Me

あなたこそが “ 海賊王 ” になる男

Lukewarm blood gushed out from the deep wounds. Ripping apart huge chunks of flesh and feeling the solidity of a bone inside, Monet genuinely relished her superiority savoring every note of the harrowing, blood-curdling shriek the woman in her deadly embrace emitted.

That Marine girl was no good at all; her tactics may not be exactly lame or useless, nor did she lack fervor or courage, but she turned out to be too modest and polite to attack – and also feeble. While the Marines claimed to have implemented a variety of brand-new top-notch techniques that would improve fighting skills of nearly any novice, they tended to send weaklings barely able to resist a simple scuffle, let alone serious combat with high ranks such as her or Caesar. This one wasn’t an exception to the rule: though promoted, Tashigi proved her disability to be on the offensive, thus confirming Monet’s expectations and dispelling the illusion of power Smoker had successfully created earlier.

“I adore it when you yell so desperately,” the Harpy muttered nonchalantly in the unctuous voice, her lips smeared with blood. “So I might break your scapula just for fun. My fangs can go through bone like butter. What a lovely day we are having, aren’t we?.. Care to brighten it further?”

Monet’s viselike grip tightened, and a bone cracked; Tashigi’s scream of utter anguish pierced the chaos and turmoil. In a moment, the woman limped in the Harpy’s wings. This last shrill seemed to have deserted her internally, leaving little to no stamina to stand up for herself and resist the throes shooting through her fragile body. The Harpy, though, felt no remorse or contrition. Quite on the contrary, she yielded into the perverse pleasure of being in charge – her well-nurtured sadistic inclinations and proclivities could finally splurge and flourish. Normally, it was Doflamingo whose hatred of the Marines came unwrapped. He was always in command; he was always aware of the potential threat and danger that could strike at any given moment, and now she could defend him from this invasion without an innuendo on his part. He had protected her in the past, bestowed a shelter, and took care of her younger sister—

“Enough.”

A low voice, hardly louder than Tashigi’s shallow breath muffled all the sounds, including explosions and the clash in the distant rooms. A swordsman with cold resolution in the single eye stood there, unmoving, his face serious, yet completely unreadable.

Monet’s fine features contorted in a lopsided smirk, her head withdrawing from Tashigi’s injured shoulder. Spoiled by pride, the swordsman didn’t seem to see a worthy opponent in her. Good for him, she thought. The Marine’s death would be on his hands – after all, he couldn’t compare to one of the best soldiers among the Donquixotes.

“I said enough,” he growled quietly, advancing and raising his katana, the silver eye narrowing. “Didn’t you hear?”

“She shouted too loudly. Should I shut her up?” Monet’s voice remained vaguely flirtatious, her antics jaunty, but the swordsman betrayed no emotion whatsoever. Instead, without a single warning, he pivoted forward, sword at the ready. Prancing at superhuman speed, the man neatly cut her in half – her logia powers weren’t a mere obstacle to him or his blade.

“I’m a Logia, you fool,” Monet spat with a haughty grin, “You think I’m scared?”

That fact alone contributed to her arrogance and hoity-toity attitude. While the majority of the Donquixote Family had to satisfy themselves with commonplace and hackneyed Paramecias, she got lucky – Doflamingo brought in a Logia fruit, the rarest type, and presented it to her. He might have intended to give it to Vergo, who hadn’t joined the number of the fruit-eaters and preferred to use his innate physical force. At any rate, such thoughts barely intruded on her mind: Doflamingo, the Young Master she worshipped, literally made her a gift desired by many. And what a scenery it was: he called in a meeting, ordered his favorite delicacies, thus forcing the whole city to cook for him, and sprawled across his improvised throne. Trebol, giggling under his breath, Diamante with his ever-lasting smirk, the imperturbable Pica, Vergo with the rigorous mien… Well, she was never part of the elite – nor did she plan to climb higher. The seat beside Doflamingo’s feet seemed comfortable enough to occupy – this position turned her into a valuable asset, who caught all the messages and orders intoned in a low, seductive voice. Despite that, the Young Master did not banish her – he remained seated, asking her to tell them all about her first murder – committed with a taste.

Logia powers made the bearer almost invincible, and Monet, a proficient user, trained by the best, especially by Vergo, knew what she was worth.

“I’m a Logia,” the Harpy repeated, the blizzard howling louder. “It doesn’t hurt me.”

“We’ll see,” came the answer.

Not even looking at her, the man grabbed the wounded woman and hurried to the exit, while Monet, absolutely dumbfounded, discovered that she could not get together. What appeared to be a single cut turned out to be a series of swift swishes in the air that slashed her snow-made body in a split second with the power that significantly surpassed her own. The result unfolded in slow motion: the more time went, the more it hurt; paralyzed, she listlessly perused the gashes opening in her skin – the man had inflicted much more damage than she had initially anticipated.

Furious, lacerated by what seemed to be a hundred blades, Monet yelled – and realized that it caused another wound to splay. The flesh got torn apart somewhere in her stomach and sent an impetus to the lungs prompting another incision to dehisce. The blood spurted up and flushed out from her mouth, staining the green shirt. Coughing, gagging, and covering her lips with a defective wing that had also been slit and now painted vermillion, the Harpy leaned over a gigantic machine with a red button on its panel. Half-conscious, she stared at it – it certainly was a way out. If she pushes it, the whole island will go up in flames. Nobody survived, case closed. Nobody discovers the dirty scheme Vergo had initiated in the Marine to abduct kids; nobody learns about the dubious experiments of the ambiguous nature performed by Caesar. Nobody connects Young Master – her Young Master – to the helter-skelter in the lab, nobody–

Her consciousness drifted away; small lacerations proved to be even worse than the deeper ones – blood didn’t stop from dripping, and she couldn’t control the amount she had lost. Falling to the ground, quivering, Monet twitched her wings in a fruitless attempt to maintain balance. It was overkill, anyway, at least she deemed so. Her wounds were fatal; she very well understood that she was a goner – but it was still in her power to prevent future events from happening.

Suddenly, Monet heard the quiet mumbling of a snail. Caesar, concerned about Joker’s supervision and unremitting control (the notion he strongly believed but which wasn’t true to the fact: Doflamingo, after Monet’s infiltration, called every once in a while, just to give the man heebie-jeebies, in case he felt lazy), installed snails everywhere, each equipped with a unique number. Only Joker could have access to them – no one else would be able to call here, the sanctum sanctorum of the lab.

The injured wing reached for the receiver, then twitched and fell. Trembling, the Harpy moaned in agony, choked on the blood, and made a feeble attempt to get up. Didn’t work; her face contorted in pure anguish. Invincible, trained, fortified by a number of experiments conducted under Doflamingo’s supervision, she never expected a failure. Especially a failure like this.

The snail kept grumbling, Monet whimpered; struggling to stand up, the Harpy felt a million needles skewering into her body, avulsing the thinnest and the tiniest blood vessels. She had to be slow not to disturb the veins that still remained intact. Making a superhuman effort, Monet propped herself up, her chest heaving, her wings jittered ever so slightly. Panting, leaning over the tremendous apparatus towering over her, the Harpy managed to answer the call.

“Monet?” called a low, mellifluous voice coming from a snail. “Monet, do you read?”

“Yes, Young Master,” she mustered her shattered self to respond.

“I do not have the slightest idea what is happening right now,” he drawled pensively, “But it is certainly far from the plan I have drawn up.”

“They– they snatched Caesar.”

Doflamingo paused, pondering over her words. That loudmouth fool, calling himself a genius, failed to kick the teenager’s ass and let himself get captured by a bunch of mere kids playing real pirates. It had been funny to hear that that Strawhat Luffy defeated Sir Crocodile, one of the most feared and infamous warlords; after all, Doflamingo shook hands with the man and knew exactly what his weaknesses were, but Caesar Clown was another thing. First off, he claimed himself to be a brilliant scientist, and, in fact, he had managed to synthesize a drug that made children comparable to giants in force and probably in size. Furthermore, he used his earlier formulae and calculations, retrieved the readouts of the past experiments to create artificial Devil Fruits. So, he clearly was not a complete idiot. However, he employed none of his ingenious tricks to kill the annoying brat on sight when he had the opportunity. Too bad the factory couldn’t work without his involvement – otherwise, Doflamingo himself would’ve got disposed of Caesar as well.

“Monet,” he finally spoke, his voice dropping down a notch. “You were loyal to me.”

“Till the end, Young Master,” she muttered, her voice not louder than a susurrus of wind.

“Die for me.” He commanded coolly, his eyes staring into space unwinkingly. “Monet, die for me and send this place to hell. Take them all along with you.”

“Yes, Young Master. I will do as you please.”

Her lips, covered with blood and gore, stretched in a gentle smile addressed to no one in particular. He cared about her. He wanted her to perform this last task for him, in the name of his future achievements and accomplishments, and she would not let him down.

She raised her wing, slightly quavering, preparing to hit the red button. Exuding a quiet hum, the Harpy lowered it – and gasped, immediately falling onto the ground with a loud, heavy thump.

“Monet?.. Monet, what’s happened? Monet, can you hear me?..”

She uttered a wheezing sound, and her visage froze in a rictus of death.

#one piece #doflamingo x monet #monet #doflamingo #donquixote doflamingo

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wouldduskwood · 3 years

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Descendants of Despair Part 44

During the drive back, Jake began casting awkward glances in my direction. I hoped he wasn’t regretting what had happened. I definitely wasn’t. Finally, my curiosity got the better of me. “What is it?” I asked. “Uh...I probably should have asked this before we had sex for the first time...but…” he paused and raised an eyebrow. “You’re concerned I might get pregnant?” I asked, grinning at his discomfort in asking. Jake nodded without taking his eyes off the road. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “Look, it isn’t that I am opposed…but…” I put my hand on his thigh and squeezed it gently. “We are hardly in the position to provide a good home for anyone. I have the contraceptive implant in my arm. It works for around 5 years, so I have a good 3 years left on this one...look...I am very real about what can happen when a woman is out alone. I won a lot, but I also lost some. Even though I had moved off the street...I hadn’t forgotten it...this gave me some peace of mind.” I replied warily. Everything in my life had revolved around the horrors I had faced growing up. Now, safe with Jake, it was easy to forget until I was faced with a situation like this. Jake’s hand gripped mine. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he declared. “No matter what.”

I struggled to form an answer, so instead kissed Jake’s cheek lovingly. He turned and smiled at me briefly before returning his eyes to the road. We drove the remainder of the way in silence. As we arrived back home, Jake took my hand and led me through to his set up. Sitting on the floor with an arm around me, he caressed my hair as he checked everything that had happened while we had been out. Finally, satisfied we were safe, he glanced in my direction. “You look exhausted. How about we shower then we need to get some sleep so we don’t make mistakes tomorrow.” I nodded warily and allowed Jake to lead me through to the bathroom. We showered together, embracing each other as we washed. Finally, as the water began to cool, we got out, dried off and dressed for bed.

I fell asleep as soon as I lay on the floor in Jake’s arms, waking to the sun breaking. Jake was still snoozing, his arms wrapped lightly around me. As I moved, he woke quickly. “Mmh, everything okay?” he whispered as he kissed my head. “Yeah… nervous I guess.” I mumbled. “Trust me, I am too…” he acknowledged. “We will get the camera work done this morning. All going well, I will have eyes in there by this evening. If not, we abandon and...I dunno...forget Phil?” Jake grinned hopefully. I pushed him lightly, feigning anger at him then pulled myself out of his arms and began to get ready.

We left not long after we had woken, too edgy to stay around the house and complete the menial tasks of cleaning and laundry that we usually occupied ourselves with in the mornings. I dressed in the business suit we had managed to obtain during an outing one day and tied my hair back in a bun. Some glasses with fake lenses completed my business ensemble. The drive towards town seemed quick as I barely had time to get my thoughts together when we were pulling up a street away from the police station, far enough that the cameras wouldn’t pick up our car from being in the area and close enough to jam the signal. I sat quietly, allowing Jake to work and internally panicking.

This whole situation was out of my depth. Usually, when I needed something, I came up with a quick plan then barrelled head first into action. Being able to think on my feet and adapt to situations was what had kept me alive at this point. But now, Jake’s concern for my well-being was beginning to leach into my own concerns. Suddenly happy with my place in life, I wasn’t willing to lose that. “Okay, done.” Jake sighed as he leaned back in his seat. “Now, they may try and solve the problem themselves or they may contact a real firm to fix them. I guess we just need to wait and see.”

I nodded warily. Wait and see was always a tough game. We occupied ourselves by attempting small talk. It wasn’t always an easy task as the situation meant we were trying to remain light and breezy... but most of our lives before now had been anything but that. After a while, we started kissing instead. It was a lot easier than talking and made us both feel connected. Finally, after what seemed like hours, our decoy phone began to ring. Jake cast me a quick look, his eyes wide. He handed me the phone and I swallowed sharply before answering.

It was only a few minutes of my life, but it felt like an eternity, under Jake’s anxious gaze. Finally, I hung up the phone and handed it back to him, completely ready to throw it at him. “It’s set up, I’ve got access in half an hour.” I stated as calmly as I could. Jake nodded warily and sat back in his seat, his eyes closed and breathing heavy. I looked at him helplessly, unsure what to say or do to make the situation any better. Finally, he took a deep breath, turned to face me and smashed his lips against mine for a moment. Then, he turned his back on me. “You have everything you need. Go.” Jake said coldly.

I knew why he did it, but it was still unnerving. Not a good way to start. Walking towards the prison, I rehearsed over and over the routine we had established. Upon reaching my destination, I found I had never been more intimidated by a building than this one. It wasn’t the security or the fact that the building was swarming with police and criminals. It was the sudden realisation that I was completely alone in this and nothing from my past could entirely prepare me for what was coming. Being with Jake had lowered my defenses.

‘Confidence is key,’ I told myself as I made my way through the security, flashing the ID lanyard Jake had put together. I couldn't believe the idiot didn't check to make sure the ID was genuine. Making my way to the desk, I signed in, only partially listening to the complaints they were making about the downed cameras. Rather, I spent the time analysing my surroundings, looking for easy escape routes and things that might potentially stand in my way. I followed my guide through a couple of corridors and found myself in the security control room of the prison. Screens flicked between various angles, all showing black. The angles changed every 10 seconds or so, shown by a location and camera ID displaying under each blank picture. “Okay, I will just need a bit of time to work through the system and find the bug.” I stated firmly, placing myself in the seat usually occupied by security.

I logged into the network, using the details they had so haphazardly provided me. To begin with, I opened a simple command shell programme, hoping that the string commands I typed would be enough to fool them into thinking I was doing the job they had employed me for. Sitting back in my chair like I was in for a long wait, I looked towards my companions and said; “Now I just have to wait for the programme to pick up on whatever is going on. It may take a while. If you have other work that needs to be done, I can stay here and man this. This system is out of commission until it runs through anyway so all I can do is sit and stare at the screens.” I said, aiming to infuse as much conviction as I could in my statement. My unassuming form coupled with a look of boredom was enough to have them look at each other then agree to leave me to it. I knew that I wouldn’t have long alone, so I had to act fast.

Taking a USB from my pocket, I quickly plugged it into the back of the system and sent Jake a message that I was ready to go. I watched as Jake’s hack appeared on screen, various scrolling strings of complex code appeared with a task progress bar. I watched impatiently as the code ran, hoping that we would have enough time to get through before I was sprung. Around 10 minutes later, I received a message on screen claiming success. I quickly penned a message to Jake to let him know his application had been a success and I had completed my part of the mission, then I hid all traces of the application as best as I could just as the security team arrived back. Thankfully, Jake reinstated the camera network just as they arrived.

“Good timing,” I smiled. “It looks like it was just a failure from overloading. I have fixed that and given it a bit more leeway in case of overload in the future.” I shook their hands then led the way out, trying not to run as the cameras would now pick up on my face. As soon as I left the station and was clear of their cameras, I took off running to one of the escape routes I had practised. My phone began buzzing and I answered it quickly, while running. “Which route are you taking?” Jake asked urgently. “A.” I replied hastily as I jumped. “I’ll be at the fire escape when you arrive.” He announced and my line went dead just as I heard something behind me and turned to see a figure running over the building I was on. Without thinking, I jumped onto the final building and headed straight down the fire escape, landing just as Jake arrived.

Rushing into the car, I closed the door quickly behind me. “Drive,” I growled. Jake cast me a concerned look but followed my instruction. I turned to see whether my pursuer had kept up but couldn’t make out anything as we were travelling too fast.

“What happened?” Jake snarled. “I thought everything had gone well?” “Someone was waiting…” I stuttered.

Part 45

#duskwood jakexmc fanfic #duskwood jake x #duskwood jakexplayer #duskwood jake x player #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood fanfic #duskwood #duskwood jakexmc #fanfiction #fanfic #jake x mc #jakexmc #hackerman

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ceo-of-daichi · 4 years

Text

Characters ~ Iwaizumi Hajime x Fem!Reader

Summary ~ Iwaizumi has a big crush on you, but has no idea how to talk to you without panicking. Oikawa offers an easy solution, will you find out about your secret admirer? Will you accept his affection when you find out?

Genre ~ Fluff

Warnings ~ Swearing

Word Count ~ 1.8k

A/N ~ So here it is as promised... a fic that isn’t about the loml Daichi! Had fun writing this though, want to dedicate this to @iwaxme as like a late birthday fic? Its the least i can do for you babie❤️ Hopefully i do him justice🥰 Thank you @karasu-hoes for proof reading my fic!! I really appreciate it!

Hearing the familiar squeak of volleyball shoes as you walked up to the gym was like music to your ears. You had missed this crazy bunch over the summer break. You weren’t really involved with the Aoba Johsai boys volleyball team, however you enjoyed occasionally popping to their practices. Being good friends with Watari the rest of the team welcomed you with open arms. Walking through the gym doors, Oikawa instantly noticed your presence.

‘[y/n]-channnn’ You rolled your eyes so hard you almost lost them in the back of your head, as he skipped over to you.

‘What do you want, Oinkawa?’ Throwing him a slight smirk as you made your way over to Watari.

‘Rudeeeeee [y/n]-chann’ He whines while making his way back to the other 3rd years slightly dejected.

Chatting to Watari as usual during their break you noticed an unfamiliar pair of eyes on you, usually it was just Oikawa being his weird flirty self however these weren’t his eyes, they seemed to bore through you.

Slowly turning around you locked eyes with Iwaizumi, why was he staring at you? Did you have a stain on your uniform that you didn’t know about? Luckily the minute you looked over at him he turned away, a slight pink tinting his ears. You were confused, however you brushed it off continuing your conversation with Watari. Meanwhile Iwaizumi was having an internal argument with himself, when did you get that pretty? Did that happen over summer or has he just not noticed you in this way now? Finding himself lost in thought for a good 5 minutes before snapping out of it, he had to talk to you…

Practice ending at usual time, you grabbed your stuff and got up off the bench. You were ready to walk home with Watari as usual, but before you could shout at him someone else wanted your attention.

‘Hey, [y/n]’ Iwaizumi started fairly confidently as he jogged across the gym to you.

‘Hm? Oh hey Iwaizumi what's up?’ Turning towards him and greeting him with a smile, suddenly he struggled to form a sentence, his face turning bright red. You were smiling so brightly it completely made him freak out inside, you were even more beautiful up close. Not used to feeling like this he began to panic.

‘Oh i was… i-i was just grabbing this…’ Mad at himself that he pussied out as he bent down to pick up a towel from the bag.

‘Okay… well i’ll see you tomorrow’ As you walked off to Watari, Iwaizumi was mentally cursing everything. A simple conversation, that's all it was yet he couldn’t even do that.

Luckily for Iwaizumi, Oikawa saw the whole thing. Or at least Oikawa would say it was lucky for him, seen as though Iwa-chan clearly needed some help flirting.

‘I think that is the worst i have ever seen you talk to a girl Iwa-chan’ He said, flinging an arm around his pissed looking friend.

‘Like you could have done any better shittykawa..’ He huffed, trying to calm his blush down, that was still adorning his cheeks.

‘You clearly like her, let me help you!! I can wingman you!’ Oikawa stated excitedly, although Iwaizumi wasn’t too happy with this arrangement he agreed. He needed some help if he was going to get you to notice him. The worst thing was, he craved your attention, getting you to notice him or at least laugh and be happy due to him was his main focus.

Waking up late the next day, you started to panic. Refusing to be late to school, you jumped out of bed, throwing your uniform on and basically sprinting to school. By the time you got there you had about 10 minutes to spare, sighing as you started making your way towards the lockers needing to swap some of your books around. Opening your locker you noticed a loose piece of coloured paper falling to the floor, you definitely did not put that in there. Unfolding it carefully and reading the contents you face lit up in a bright smile.

‘Look Iwa-chann she's smiling and might even be blushing slightly!! I told you it would work!’ Oikawa whispered to his friend from around the corner. Iwaizumi poked his head around the corner smiling at the sight before him, Oikawa was right. Your cheeks were lightly dusted pink and you had a huge smile on your face. Seeing you like this because of him made his heart beat out of his chest.

‘Come on Shittykawa lets get out of here before she notices us’ He had to stop himself skipping off he was that happy.

You peered around after you finished reading the note, no one looked suspicious or like this wasn’t their normal routine. The note was sweet even though it was only a couple of lines long, it was signed anonymously though. You calm down your blush as you head towards your classroom, your mind not being able to focus on anything apart from the note.

After that you could not concentrate, your mind was clouded with curiosity. Would this happen again, or was it a one time thing? Was it a boy who sent it or a girl? They must know you because how would they know your locker number..? Your friends could tell something was off but everytime they questioned it you brushed them off, saying you were just spaced out.

At practice that afternoon, as you sat on the bench as you do almost every practice, you started to catch eyes with Iwaizumi more. Giving him small smiles here and there. Has he always been that attractive? The answer was yes and you knew it, but somehow looking at him now, the way he gave you a slight smile as he was practicing spikes, it was like something had changed. Shaking your head and smiling, not like anything would happen between you both, he was way out of your league. Plus you now had a secret admirer, and if they kept leaving you notes… You would have to figure out a way to find out who they were.

For the next week Iwaizumi left short and sweet messages every morning in your locker just to see your reaction. You were still clueless who it was, and he didn’t want you to find out any time soon, what if you were disappointed it was him? He couldn’t take his mind off during practice...After all, you were extremely pretty, and he was just Oikawa’s second to girls like you. He started to get angry just at the thought, wanting to throw a volleyball straight into the back of shittykawas head. But he refrained from doing so as he spotted you walking into the gym.

~ A Couple of Weeks Later ~

This is it you thought to yourself as you woke up at the bright and early time of 6am. You were going to catch the person who had been leaving notes in your locker, for the best part of 3 weeks. Packing up all your school books, you got changed and started your walk to Aoba Johsai. It was chilly out, so much so that you could see your breath in the air. Speeding up so you could get there faster, you spotted someone walking in front of you. Fairly tall and muscular built, he was wearing what looked like your school's uniform. Wondering what he was doing heading to school this early, it suddenly hit you.

Dropping back slightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice, you began to match his pace. Making sure not to lose him, as you suspected when he got to school he went straight to your locker. Slipping something inside. Due to his winter coat you couldn’t see his features, cursing you decided to follow him as he walked off. Praying he would go to the library or something to study, however where he went surprised you.

Ducking behind a corner as he walked through the double doors to the boys gym, no way. He was one of the volleyball boys? Impossible… He wasn’t tall enough to be Oikawa, plus he would never do something like use notes. Who could it be? Unless… You shook that thought instantly out of your head. There is no way Iwaizumi, the ACE of the volleyball team was leaving you notes.

It took you 10 minutes to gather up the courage to walk into the gym and confront whoever it was, but eventually you peaked your head through the double doors. Your eyes went wide as you locked eyes with Iwaizumi, you both just standing there staring at each other in disbelief.

‘I-Iwaizumi… you’ve been leaving notes in my locker?’ You couldn’t help but sound surprised. Blushing he started to slowly make his way over to you.

‘And if i did?’ A hint of worry tinting his tone.

‘I would say…Why me?’ This was something you were genuinely curious about, he must have girls flocking to him. Why you?

Your face started to flush as you realised he looked slightly confused by your question, like there was an obvious answer you were missing.

‘[y/n]... You're smart, funny, intelligent, you never take Oikawa’s shit. Hell most girls would be falling to their knees if they even got a fraction of what you take of him… And most of all… your beautiful’ He stepped closer cupping your cheek and looking into your eyes. When you didn’t reply, mainly because you were caught up in his eyes, he panicked.

‘A-Are you happy it's me?’ He drops his hand back to his side, waiting to hear the worst.

‘You are kidding right Hajime? I’m just… You're too good for me…’ On one hand he was completely imploding inside at the use of his name, it rolled off your tongue perfectly. On the other hand, he hated the fact you didn’t think you were good enough for him, even though in his eyes, it was the other way around.

With that, he lifted your chin with his hand, getting a sudden boost of confidence, he pressed his lips against yours softly. You froze for a second, unsure of how to function, but soon enough you kissed him back, moving your arms around his neck. His lips were soft, and you enjoyed the kiss while it lasted. It wasn’t long before he pulled away a small smile on his face.

‘Is that enough proof that you are good enough for me? More than good enough for me… your perfect…’

Tags ~ @bb-noya @vventure @stcrryskies @iwaxme @ardorwrites-hq-mha @sugawarasimp @super-noya

#haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #hajime #haikyuu x reader #hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu #hq x reader #hq x you #iwaizumi x you #hajime x you #haikyuu fanfic #fanfic #not daichi #are you suprised #Jas Babie❤️#i live jas #lydz loves jas

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rae-is-typing · 4 years

Text

kicked out

Description: You’re a part of the LGBTQ+ community, but your mother is a part of a religion that hates the LGBTQ+ community. You come out and she kicks you out. Tony helps.

Characters: reader, reader’s mother, Tony Stark, mention of Peter Parker

Reader is gender neutral!

Warnings: homophobia, transphobia, general hate towards those in the LGBTQ+ community, intense bigotry, being kicked out, anxiety attack

Disclaimers: This one shot is not meant to be one about hating religion. This piece was loosely based on my own internal struggle with myself and the religion I was raised in. I’ve also never dealt with direct backlash because of my identity. I’m not out yet and I have no desire to be out yet. This is the worst case scenario I would be facing if I did come out.

I tried to make the religion and the identity as ambiguous as possible to make it a little more universal, but this one shot definitely points to the identity being gay, queer, bi, or pan, so I’m sorry I didn’t make it anymore neutral.

If you have a problem with this fic or the way it was written, I urge you to message me. We can have a conversation about where I went wrong and how I can learn from the experience and do better in the future.

Word count: 2k

The Avengers love you, plain and simple. How could they not grow to love the adorable teen they let into their unconventional family? (If Tony had his way, he would legally adopt you in a heartbeat.) Unfortunately for Tony, you had a mom. She was a pretty good one, she fed you, clothed you and supported you in most things you did. You moved to New York together when your father died. Your mother was also very religious. You were born and raised in the church your mother and father were raised in. You never had a problem with it; the people were amazing, the community was like a big family, you grew up with all the youth, and, most importantly, felt loved and safe. You rallied together against what they claimed to be of the devil. That included people in the LGBT+ community. When you grew up, you realized how you truly feel about people of your sex, and how you feel about people of the same sex. It started slowly. You began to accept that part of yourself when you met someone like you. He was nice, compassionate, accepting of others and helped everyone he could. He was one of the best people you’ve ever met. He was nothing like what you’re mother and religion told you LGBTQ+ people were like. What had really convinced you that the LGBTQ+ are real people was when one of your closest friends came out. You accepted them, they were not only in the same boat as you (not that you were ready to tell anyone), they were one of you. But not everyone thought so. You saw it whenever you went to church and they were at the meetings. It didn’t make sense to you. They were one of you, right? So they got a pass. Apparently not. You knew through the disappointed and judgemental eyes burning with disgust. It made you sick and only further solidified your resolve to stay in the closet. You soon learned it was easier said than done. Whenever you wanted to avoid the rallies, you chickened out and went, too afraid to disappoint your friends and mother. You always stuck to the standards and tried to be the perfect child your mother always wanted. It was exhausting. Admittedly, you saw the difference between your congregation, and the Avengers when you first met them. They were the first people you could truly be yourself with. As cheesy as it sounds, it was evident. They encouraged your individuality and loved you because of your personality and your abilities.

You could talk to them, and you did. You told Peter first. He hugged you and told you that he’s bisexual and hasn’t come out to May yet.

You told Tony about yourself a week later. He smiled at you, wrapped an arm around you and told you he was proud of you for discovering yourself and beginning to accept that part of you. It was something you didn’t expect, not that it wasn’t welcome. You were on top of the world for a couple weeks, thankful that some of the most important people in your life loved you still. But as of late, your thoughts about yourself have been killing your spirit. You were so tired of pretending. The toll it took on you was obvious to everyone that didn’t know you as the perfect sheep. The people that were worried the most were the Avengers. You were at the tower a lot more than usual, not that they were complaining. It was just odd. You hesitated when they asked you simple questions, spaced out a lot more, ate less and claimed you felt sick almost every other day. They’d share concerned glances and tried to talk with you, but you’d brush it off and used school, drama or headaches to excuse your strange behaviour. It worked- for a while. Then you stopped going to the tower completely. It wasn’t your fault. Your mother heard you say one positive thing about the LGBTQ+ community and freaked out. She went off saying that it was the Avengers corrupting you and that she never should have let you take the Stark internship in the first place, and so much more. You had never heard her yell so much in your life, it was terrifying. She stopped letting you go out, you were only allowed to go to School and Church, took away all forms of technology and outside communication.

You were going crazy, there was no way you could keep living like this. So, you told her. You finally told her what you are, how you felt and why she shouldn’t make decisions for you when you were perfectly capable of making them yourself. You had waited a couple weeks, so you thought she’d be more level headed. But, you were wrong. She freaked out more than before.

You knew for a fact that it was worse than before because she kicked you out.

You were shocked, confused and most of all hurt. You’re a part of the LGBTQ+ community, but she was still your mother.

“What?” You asked, confusion lacing you voice.

“You heard me, get out. Get out of my house.” Your mom stated firmly, disgust obvious in her voice.

“You can’t do this, I’m your child!”

“Not anymore. You have until I get back, get you stuff and get out!” She shouted, walking out and slamming the door.

You sat on the couch until her words sank in. Your mother is kicking you out.

I’m homeless now. Where am I going to go? What am I going to tell my friends, what am I going to tell Peter? What am I going to tell Tony? What am I going to do? I can’t do it on my own. I can’t do it. I can’t…

Your breathing sped up, your heart races, and waves of nausea hit you hard.

Nevertheless, you got up and searched for your phone. As soon as you found it, you eagerly dialled in his personal number and called. He didn’t answer. You wanted to cry, you tried again with no answer. You plugged in your phone, put your head in your hands and sobbed.

Moments later, your phone rang. It was Tony.

“Tony,” You breathed out.

“Y/N! Where’ve you been, kid? It’s not as fun here without you.” His tone was light and relieved now that he could talk to you and make sure you’re okay.

“Tony, my mom, she- I- I wouldn’t have called if I had another option, I’m sorry, it’s just-”

“Whoa, hey, slow down and take a deep breath, Y/N.” His tone changed from fun to concerned in an instant. “What happened with your mom?”

“I-I told- I told her about me and that- that I- and she- Tony I can’t- she- I don’t-” You’re crying hard, unable to form coherent sentences and unable to breathe properly.

“Y/N, where are you?” Tony asked.

“H-home.”

“I’m coming over, stay on the line with me sweetheart, can you do that?”

“Ye-eah.”

As promised, you didn’t hang up until Tony was standing in front of you- Iron Man suit and all. He immediately pulled you in his arms when he got the suit off and began to calm you down.

“Can you tell me what happened now, kid?”

“She kicked me out.” You spoke into his chest.

“She what?” Tony growled. How could a mother be so cruel? Anger flooded his veins, how could someone turn away from their child for simply being honest with themselves?

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have called you if I had any other option. Please don’t be mad, I’m so sorry.” You bury your face in his chest, wanting this day to be a bad dream.

“It’s good you called me, Y/N. I’m not mad, not at you.” Tony held you in his arms, cradling your head against his chest and rubbing an arm up and down your back. There’s no hesitation, he knows that he needs to be there for you. “You’re staying with me.”

“W-what?”

“My dear, you are coming back to the tower. You will be sleeping, eating, doing your homework, socializing, and living with me and the rest of us at my tower. Okay?”

You can only nod, too overwhelmed to speak while clutching the back of Tony’s shirt like it was the only thing that was keeping you alive. He kept rubbing your back and letting you cry into his chest. Right now, his comfort doesn’t matter to him, not when his kid is crying in his arms.

It seems, though, that he’s the only one that heard the door begin to open.

Tony grips your forearm and steps in front of you. Your mother opens the door with puffy red eyes and dried tears on her face. She looks genuinely sad for what she had to do, but that look of sadness dissipates when she sees Tony and you standing in her living room.

“What are you doing here?” She hisses. “What is that doing here?"

"Y/N, go to your room and pack what you want to take.” Tony’s voice is even and strong. You hesitate, tears still streaming down your face, fingers still clutching Tony’s clothes like you were a toddler hiding from another adult. “Y/N, now.”

You turn briskly, running down the small hallway and into your room. You lock the door, rip your suitcase from your closet and stuff all of your sentimental items first before your favorite clothes.

Their voices are easily heard through the thin apartment walls. You hear Tony defending you and your mom berating you.

“That thing is not my child. I did not raise a sinner!”

“Y/N is a human being with a name that you gave them. You are their mother, mothers are supposed to love their children, not throw them out like yesterday’s garbage.”

You’ve never heard Tony this angry.

I shouldn’t have called him, he’s mad, she’s mad, I made her mad, she hates me she hates she hates me she hates me

You grabbed a pillow and cried in earnest into it, managing to cover your ears as well as your mouth to muffle your sobs and the voices coming through the walls.

A knock at your door makes you jump and hold your breath.

“Y/N, it’s me. Are you ready to go?” Tony says. You can hear the anger that was in his voice, even if he’s trying to stay as calm as he can for you.

“Yeah,” you croak, wiping your face. You grab the bag and open the door. Tony is shaking with fury, but he wraps an arm around you and walks you to the living room. Your mother says nothing to you as she sits on the couch with a prideful look on her face. “We’re flying back to the tower so I need you to hold on tightly and do not let go under any circumstances.”

You nod at the instructions and Tony suits up. The quiet mechanical sounds are music to your ears. He places an arm on the middle of your back and hooks one under your knees. He hoists you up easily, the bag resting your chest and held tightly by you.

Tony flies slower and lower than usual, keeping you in mind. You have one arm around his neck and the other holding the bag to your chest. He lands on a balcony to one of the top floors and carries you inside. Placing you on the ground with care, he holds your shoulders and assures himself you’re stable. He takes off the suit and walks you to a room.

“You can stay here for now. I’ll talk with Pepper and the team about what happened. I’ll only tell them that you’re staying for awhile. You can tell them the other news when you’re ready.”

You nod. He closes the door and you sit on the bed, staring at the wall.

A feeling of deep longing grows in your chest, along with feelings of rejection and pain. Your head drops to your hands and all you can do is cry.

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norgestan · 3 years

Note

norandro, eva/nora, amiris 👀❣️

NORANDRO:

i mean, starting off pretty strong with my favorite eskam couple. oh god. THEM. as someone who cannot stomach season 2 and also skipped william's clip and william's clip only when season 4 of skam came to an end... i will ALWAYS love what eskam did for this couple. i think i explain it pretty well on my season 3 review, but to sum up those thoughts: i think this is what noorhelm was truly supposed to be, they're both pretty flawed characters with great arcs who make their get-together super interesting and organic, alejandro is my baby and the most developed william and i'll die on this hill, etc.

especially i think that norandro, for a ship that got way less screentime that all their other counterparts, is by FAR the most developed couple in all of them and up there in eskam too, and although they weren't the focus of most of the show, it's clear as day that the writers really tried to tell a compelling story with these two - and they succeeded. it's shocking to me that eskam actually got to link the "everyone is fighting a battle" motto that has become a meme for how poorly incorporated it is on the skamverse, as alejandro effectively behaved around that motto: during season 3 and onwards, which is where i believe he's fully reformed as a character and love interest, he never hurts nora - nor anyone - in any way. he struggles to tell nora how he doesn't want a relationship because he doesn't want to hurt her, and in the miscommunication fest that their first clip of s3 is, i've always LOVED that nora calls alejandro a "fuckboy" still, and he's clearly annoyed by this, but doesn't bite back. he's always so mindful of her feelings even though he's struggling himself, BECAUSE he understands that his suffering is not the center of the world! because treating people with kindness is a strength in itself! and it continues like that for the rest of the season. like, at his most petty, he just sends a text to nora calling her a "fuckboy", which is honestly hilarious. he deals with a lot of jealousy because of nora's new relationship, yet he values her friendship so much that he never snaps at her, he never lets it show when he's talking to her, and he's never passive-aggressive about it - you can tell that he's so genuinely glad that they're still friends after all. god, the clip where he realizes that miquel is a shit boyfriend while he's talking to nora... imagine the things any other william would've said there. imagine the ways alejandro could've been petty or overprotective and fuck everything up. instead, he recognizes nora needs space and even though it hurts to be away from her, he does it because he understands it's what she needs - and his own feelings and entitlement (that he previously showed, too!) aren't the most important thing. it's beautiful. UGH. what a great character eskam crafted, there.

i like them well enough in s4, too. i think, for what they had to work with, they took them in a good direction and their happy ending feels deserved. it's just that... personally, i wish there was more introspection of nora's aftermath in s3, which is also one of my complaints with season 3 - and where characters like emma could've been SO good. although i understand the intentions, a lot of nora's internal turmoil regarding her abusive relationship with miquel are only tied to her desire to be with alejandro. it's frustrating that it became so boy-focused when the girl squad was the center of the emotional climax of nora's season. to me, the solution is still in giving the pov's to the girl squad and not... random characters lol, but oh well. i think eskam did good there and i still love this couple the most!!! i just wish there was an universe where their story doesn't have to be wrapped up in one season and we can get actual glimpses of a beautiful slow burn where they can finally get together and make their relationship work - and this is where the fanfic part comes in, i guess! as someone who loves the couple, i liked seeing them lovey-dovey in the background of s4, but also i wouldn't have been too mad if they held off from making them completely canon and only hinted their status as endgame, kinda how they did with eva and jorge. oh, and speaking of eva, i guess...

NOREVA:

i guess, the main thing with them is that i love norandro so much that i can't really see nora with any other love interest??????? now, platonically. UGH. 12/10. anyone who's seen season 3 should know and i shouldn't even have to explain it tbh. i love the focus that is put on their friendship and how emotionally charged it is when it comes to miquel and the aftermath of all that. like, a similar thing is done with norandro - because at that point, nora and alejandro were exclusively friends, but it becomes even more relevant when it's about eva. eva who, you know, was in a toxic relationship herself. i love that she herself brings up her relationship with jorge when she's talking about miquel, and how wary she is of everything that happening. the fact that she's the first one to sense it feels so right!!! i love that eskam really made them close and gave them the window scene, which is both so powerful on its message and a true love letter to female friendships.

i think eva is a really underrated eskam character as it is, like... people really don't understand how great of a character she is and how much she's grown. they are quick to call her a boring, ooc party girl once s2 rolls around, like eskam didn't spend TIME making eva herself declare that hooking up with cristian (and cristian ONLY!) was something she did out of fun and she was decided to stop as soon as it stopped being fun for her. moreover, eva is such a perceptive person: she's been that way since s1 and it has only carried across for the entirety of the show since then. and when pairing two really good characters together, like eva and nora, you really can't go wrong. their friendship brings great things out of both of them and it goes through its own arc during nora's season, whereas other seasons either dump eva as noora's bff midway through or just make them really close to introduce character drama but don't really do anything to their dynamic as it is.

romantically... sigh. i'm sorry LOL as much as i love girls kissing and wlw romance done right... i don't see potential for this relationship outside their platonic dynamic. which is, btw, incredibly strong and beautiful. i'm super contented with how eskam handled their friendship and therefore i wouldn't want anything else from them, and it's not like nooreva where the chemistry was THERE. however! i'm always open to see people's interpretations of what romantic noreva could be. wasn't it you who wrote that beautiful fic of nora realizing she's bi and falling for eva after season 3? because now THAT'S the shit i'm looking for. i think there's a lot of potential there which i'd like to see explored in fic, but other than that, i love their relationship how it is and i've never felt a desire to see them as each other romantic interests.

AMIRIS:

first things first: why did eskam NEVER confirm cris having an embarrassing, sweet, confusing childhood crush on amira? i mean, it's my headcanon that she'll later realize it and she'll jolt awake and think "holy FUCK" but like... it's a thing that isaks are into their jonases. why didn't it happen here :(((((

being honest, childhood friends to lovers has never been my thing? a simple friends to lovers doesn't do it for me: i like my relationships rocky, with lots of character moments and whose survival and success depend only on the people involved making efforts to change and do better. if you've seen s4... yeah, that's not really the case. it's just disappointing because damn, amiris is the realest thing indeed, but also... what case are the writers doing for them? because it was only irene and hajar doing the intense gazing and bringing all the chemistry home. s4 cris is a mess and a half, and while i like the idea of the bench scene featuring both of them, and being more about cris reminding amira the reasons she's made it this far instead of lecturing her about sucking it up better... the result is still lackluster. there are SO many issues on their friendship that were introduced and then dropped, and it's really nice that cris finally is there to comfort amira when shit goes down, it truly is! but what else is there? it's just a small part of s4 being a bunch of missed potential. they could've REALLY done something great with their relationship and bring back and close cris' development in the show, but we only got... well, nothing. back to 0. amira has to live with those problems, now. things like that really make it seem like once amira broadens her horizons, she won't really go back to her friendship with the girls, and cris will be a lingering wound of the past. oh well.

ehem. romantically!!!!!!! as i said, cris was totally crushing on amira at some point. like... canon really makes a point at making cris' brother amira's love interest, where dani has nothing to offer to amira than cris hasn't done yet. iftar on a rooftop? ha, loser, cris did it first. admiring her passion and her faith? cris does it arguably way better than dani. longtime pining? dude. go home. okay, i'll cut dani soto some slack since it's not about him lol. point is, if amira was charmed by all of those things, then what tells me that the option of her and cris being a thing is off the table? at the end of the day, they're indeed a relationship that needs a lot of work and patience to last. the 500k slow burn is writing itself, really.

(regardless of amiris' future, i still think irene and hajar have to do a cute romcom romance at some point. their chemistry is off the charts.)

#skam españa #putting a read more thingy because as usual i've gone in too deep #also yes. i did mark 'i want to kiss them' in every ship. and what about it #thank you so much for your ask adelaide!!!!!!!! <3 #answered

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prurientpuddlejumper · 4 years

Text

A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 1

Chapter 2 ->

Summary: Surviving being bitten and burned alive by the Red Dragon was the easy part. Frederick Chilton has a long road ahead before things will ever be close to normal again. But your fiancé is a fighter, and you’ll be with him the whole way.

Sequel to A Punchable Face That I Want to Kiss

CW: hospitals, surgery, major injury recovery. Sorry for the silly title, this will, in fact, be an angst-fest.

2,368 words

He seemed fine that first day—as fine as anyone could be after surviving what he had. His skin was red and cracked from being set on fire, and both his lips had been violently torn off—but they had found him in time. He was in the hospital recovering. Talking. You were able to speak with him, and reassure him that you still wanted to marry him, however long his recovery would take. Lips or no lips. You loved him.

You thought that meant he was going to be fine. The Red Dragon didn’t kill him.

But it wasn’t that simple.

His kidney started failing. Dehydration. He needed a massive amount of IV fluids to replace what he had lost and save him, but that volume of fluid had consequences. It made his body swell up to the point that you couldn’t recognize him—to the point that his airway was swollen closed and he couldn’t breathe on his own. And his single, struggling kidney might fail anyway.

Just a day ago he was talking to you, laughing as you teased him, telling you that you didn’t have to stay with him, and crying when you said you would. You had yelled at him for being such an idiot.

When you walked in the next morning, he was gone.

Overnight, he was like a cadaver, lying unconscious with ventilator and feeding tubes stuffed down his throat. Why did you yell at him?

You were so helpless. There was nothing you could do to make any sort of difference, not even encourage him with tender words or a joke. He couldn’t hear you. He was gone. Every snarky, sassy, smug, self-important, dramatic, gossipy remark was gone—silenced—leaving you with a body and no idea when or if he would wake up. All you could do was watch as he swelled, and hope that the fluids did their job saving his life before they killed him. All you could do was be grateful for every breath, every stubborn heartbeat, and pray they didn’t stop.

A doctor told you his chances of waking up would be slim for a healthy person. With ninety percent of his skin destroyed, bacteria could easily enter his bloodstream, and he could rapidly die of sepsis. The complication of his previous organ damage—especially the kidney Abel Gideon removed—made his probability of recovering next to zero.

“You don’t know what he’s lived through,” you seethed. “He did not survive three different serial killers just to die now. So you are not going to treat him like a lost cause, or…” You tried to think of what he would say, “Or I will sue this hospital for malpractice! That is the renowned psychiatrist and bestselling author Dr. Frederick Chilton, and you will not give up on him.”

Blustering didn’t suit you. And haughty threats couldn’t bring his swelling down. The doctors were doing everything they could, but the internal pressure became too much for him to breathe, even with the assistance of a ventilator and oxygen tubes in his nose. They carted him away to the operating room to cut more holes in him.

All you could do was watch.

“It will cause additional scarring,” a very kind nurse with curly hair explained to you as you blinked vacantly in a waiting room, trying not to break down, “but it should allow his chest to expand and save his life.”

You nodded, arms wrapped around your chest. He wouldn’t even notice a few more in the highway map of scars that his body had become. So long as he survived. You were supposed to get married. You just wanted him to wake up.

***

Frederick Chilton awoke in a bare and lonely hospital room.

A nurse came in to check on him after a few minutes of blinking groggily and trying to get his bearings through the static fuzz clouding his mind. She explained what had happened, reviewed the medications he was on, showed him the button to press to call for help, and handed him a remote control. No visitors to announce. No one waiting in the lobby all night, haggard with worry, for him to regain consciousness. No flowers crowding the bedside table.

The small television attached to the far wall, which he could barely see or hear, was less than useless, and the morphine drip prevented him from being able to focus enough to read a book. So he lay in bed, alone, in silence save for the tedious beep of the heart monitor.

It was so dull, he was grateful for having been unconscious for the last thirty hours, which was how long it took for the surgeons to get all the organs back inside of him that Abel Gideon took out, determining which ones were viable to go back, and which would go septic and kill him. Like a jigsaw puzzle. Humpty Dumpty, and not all of the pieces could be put together again.

Days passed, and his only visitor was a police officer there on a formality to take his statement.

He would have thought being disemboweled would make a man more popular. Of course it didn’t. This spared him his pride, at the least—he couldn’t tolerate visitors seeing him pale and clammy-skinned, whimpering with pain in a miserable little hospital gown—and for that he was grateful of his churlish nature, which pushed everyone well past arm’s length.

And yet, he wished they would at least try. He wanted people clamoring at his recovery room door so that he could send them away.

He would never be subjected to the indignity of being seen so weak—and yet, what he wouldn’t give to walk in to his office on his first day back and have all of his employees treat him softly, like he was some fragile thing, and not the tyrant they despised. To have them ask if he was all right.

Why didn’t he have more visitors? More flowers? More cards?

He was not well-liked, but he was distinguished. That warranted somebody stopping by with condolences. It was just that there was so little in his bare hospital room to distract him from the pain.

As the anesthetic wore off, a throbbing soreness radiated out from his abdomen, growing sharper with time. It was agonizing. With every breath, the contracting of his diaphragm and the expanding of his lungs and ribs tormented the stitches in his skin and the abused organs inside. He was either pumped full of so much morphine he couldn’t stay awake, or was clear-headed and wishing they would pump him full of more drugs so he could not be.

His mother sent a card, and so did the staff of the Baltimore State Hospital For The Criminally Insane. Both had flowers on the front, watercolor roses, and flowing script font in gold, and both meant equally little.

Perfunctory.

The one from the hospital had been insisted upon by the administrator, who had forced the staff to sign it. Each message was generic and impersonal, like they’d been taken from a standardized get-well form letter—although a few were kind enough to make him close his eyes and pretend they were genuinely meant for him. “We miss you, and wish you a speedy recovery!” His heart turned to think one of his employees really missed him and looked forward to him returning. He found the name signed under the message. He had no idea who it was, but he was certain he had never spoken to them.

The one from his mother had most likely been picked out by a maid, presented to her to mark her signature, and then mailed by said maid. It served mainly as a reminder that she hadn’t bothered to visit in person.

Both stung more to receive than if he had no cards at all—written proof that the only way anyone cared for him was as a formality.

There was a third card, however. The only one sent by someone who wasn’t socially obligated to.

You.

Unlike the others, it was completely unexpected. Jack Crawford, Alana Bloom, or Hannibal Lecter he would have understood, but you were last person he expected to hear from.

It wasn’t even a real card, but printed at home on plain, flimsy printer paper with a cartoon dog wearing a cone-collar that said “Sorry you’re feeling ruff” on the cover. The inside had a short, hand-written message: Glad you didn’t die.

Childish. Cheap. He should have been insulted. The whole thing was obviously intended to convey how little you cared. But he kept the damned thing long after he’d thrown the other two in the trash. He wished you would come visit so he could tell you how tacky you were to your face. Perhaps it was best that you didn’t—he would have wanted to buy himself flowers to fill the room with first, so it wouldn’t seem as if you were the only one who cared, or that your tasteless little gesture was anything of significance to him.

He was Dr. Frederick Chilton. It was important for you to know that he didn’t need you at all.

***

Frederick’s eyes moved behind closed lids. The swollen purple lids began to twitch, then slowly creep open. The room was hazy and bright with colors streaking at odd geometric angles away from the lights that produced them.

All he could make out were flowers. Dozens of them, hundreds, surrounding him in a resplendent cloud cloud of white and lavender. Either he fell asleep outside in the garden, or he had died and somehow gotten into heaven.

“No, you’re alive, Frederick,” you said from somewhere close. He must have been whispering to himself out loud. Your voice was wavering with powerful sobs that you shoved down to force it to sound soft and patient, but he could hear the laughter in it, too. “You’ve been out for awhile, but you’re doing really well. You just had a successful surgery. They finished debriding your burns and installing temporary grafts so you don’t go septic. Oh, and they were able to get a skin sample! It’s already in the lab so they can start growing you some of your own new skin.”

“Where…?” he blinked a few times, and tried to move before realizing he couldn’t. His body was heavier than lead and a dull ache like paper being torn pulsed beneath his skin at odd intervals. He went to lick his lips, but they weren’t there. His tongue hit empty air above his teeth, and then nothing until it encountered a gauze bandage and a plastic tube going into his nose.

That brought everything crashing back, and he groaned at reality, missing the previous few moments of anesthetic fog when the Red Dragon was just a dream.

You sat beside his hospital bed, on the side of his good eye, watching over him with a hopeful smile, rambling on about how happy you were that he was awake. There was a blue hospital blanket folded over the arm of the chair, and your hair was a mess—he wondered how long you’d been there. Every inch of surface space that wasn’t needed for medical purposes was covered in roses.

“You bought out Holland’s entire stock of flower exports.”

The way the words scraped sluggishly and humorlessly from his hoarse throat, his eyelids drooping lifelessly, made it sound like a reproach—but you laughed. You always laughed at his jokes.

“They’re all fake,” you admitted. “Hospital rules—you’re an infection risk.”

He wanted to flash you a charming smile, but he couldn’t. He did not know if his face would ever be able to produce a smile again, or how many agonizing surgeries it would take before it could. You wanted to squeeze his hand and kiss him softly, over and over, but you couldn’t. It would be weeks before you could casually touch his skin without the risk of it ripping off. At least now that he was wrapped head to toe in thick gauze, you could reach out and gently rest your hand on top of his. It stung bitterly, but he didn’t show it—he didn’t want you to take your hand away. The pressure was comforting, and your engagement ring sparkled on your finger.

“I am… glad to see you. These places can be so dull.” He met your gaze, hoping his one functional eye could shoulder the entire burden of body language in conveying his gratitude. He felt so defeated. Hollowed out. He stared up at the plain white ceiling. His words were often callous; it was physical passion which had brought you together in the first place, and without it, he feared he may begin to push you away like everyone else.

“Frederick,” you smiled, but your eyes looked like they might cry. “I’m glad to see you, too. Really glad. I don’t know who was there looking out for you the last few times you were in the hospital, but I wanted to make sure you know how loved you are this time. I’m going to be here every single day with books, and podcasts, fake flowers, and anything you want that I’m allowed to sneak in, until we can go home together.”

He didn’t want to say something trite like, “I couldn’t do this without you.”

He could.

He had before. But he didn’t want to. He never wanted to again. You had wormed so deeply into his heart and given his world color and meaning he had never known, even in his darkest moments. You made the biggest things seem unimportant, and the smallest things monumentally significant. He could never tell you how important you were to him, what it meant to not be alone.

The heart monitor betrayed the warm fluttering in his chest as the slow, steady beeping rapidly increased. You glanced up at the machine with concern, then back down to him, a sly grin spreading across your cheeks. Prideful embarrassment was written clearly all over his face, even with only part of his face left.

You wished more than ever that you could kiss him.

#Frederick Chilton #Frederick Chilton x reader #hannibal #Raúl Esparza #burn recovery #bryan fuller was letting Chilton get away with his burn way too easily tbh #actually so I am by letting him be conscious and also not dead but hey #this is a bit more like it #my writing

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timetoresurface · 4 years

Text

sweaty palms / JYH

a 5k friends to something more Yunho x Y/N where Y/N starts to realize she might like Yunho more than just a friend.

This can be read as a one-shot or as part two to One Day At a Time. I don’t know why, but I can’t stop thinking about this Yunho and Y/N. I think they’re cute.

“You have been here for over a year, and you still don’t know how to eat with chopsticks?” Yunho asked you in disbelief while trying to hide his laugh. He picked up your favourite side dish and put it on your plate. You thanked him by giving him a genuine smile, which always made him blush like crazy. He didn’t need a lot for his ears to turn adorably red.

“It’s hard.” You whispered while struggling to pick up the piece of food Yuhno had put on your plate. When you finally managed to eat the side dish, Yuhno applauded you as if you had just won some sports competition.

“No, it’s not.” He told you matter of factly, which kind of made you want to punch him in the face. Unluckily for you was his face too handsome to hurt, so you tried to verbally punch him in the face.

“You have been in an international band for over two years, and you can only say a simple greeting in English.” You told him while laughing softly. You were the only one who could say these things to Yunho. Somehow he never got mad at you when you said hurtful things.

“It’s hard.” He repeated your words with the most prominent pout on his face. You quickly squeezed his cheeks which made him laugh softly.

“No, it’s not.” You responded while trying to eat with the tricky chopsticks. The truth is that you had actually gotten better at eating with chopsticks, but you liked the fact that Yunho took care of you when you were struggling. He knew you could properly eat without his help, but he somehow loved to take care of you.

You and Yunho had met through a dating app. Which is weird because he is an idol, and you are a foreigner who kind of spoke the Korean language. You were a strange match for friends, but somehow both of you managed to make time for each other. He had also deleted his profile on the dating app, not wanting to create a scandal. The only reason he had the dating profile was that he had lost a bet. He only kept messaging you because he actually thought you were interesting enough to keep the conversation going.

He explained the situation the first time you met up in real life when he wanted to show you the best ramen place in town. The restaurant was closed, and you ended up eating something from the convenience store around the corner of where he lived. You still remember how it suddenly turned dark, and you couldn’t recall how long you had sat on the side of the street with him talking about nothing and everything.

You exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch, which was extremely difficult at first. You worked a cliche office job, so you worked from Monday until Friday from eight AM until seven PM. Yunho practised 24/7 which made it challenging to stay in touch. Somehow you found a routine to meet up once a week to have food, and this has been going for a couple of months. You knew more about Yunho than about your friends back home at the moment.

He was always there and easy to contact. When you called him in the middle of the night due to some stressful nightmare, he would always pick up and make sure you were okay. Whenever he had a comeback with his group, he would always make sure to send you detailed updates if he found a second of free time. Whenever the two of you were together, the evening was filled with laugher and good food. You always hated the moment you had to say goodbye to him because you were never sure if you would see him the next week. He would always promise you that he would come, but life as an idol isn’t the most carefree life. Sometimes he had to cancel last minute, but he always made sure to make it up to you by buying you your favourite snack the next time you saw him.

“What are you thinking about?” Yunho asked you once he realized you hadn’t been actively involved in the conversation.

“Reminiscing.” You told him while you averted your eyes toward the couple in the back of the restaurant. They were acting and talking like you and Yunho, but their hands were intertwined. They looked at each other as if they were the only person on the earth that was worthy of their attention. You actually wanted something like that, and that’s why you had made a profile on the shallow dating app. Yunho was something you didn’t expect, but it was a pleasant surprise. A good friend is worth more than a simple one night stand or fuck buddy.

“About what?” He asked you curiously, suddenly turning serious.

“About our friendship.” You told him honestly. Your eyes found him, and the way he stared at you made you think of the couple in the back. There was no way he was looking at you because of a romantic feeling, but you liked to think he considered you worthy of his attention. Someone he could tell his secrets to, and someone who he could trust through thick and thin.

“How much you love me?” He asked you teasingly. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t hide the smile his teasing had prompted. He had this talent of making you feel relaxed and at ease in even the most uncomfortable situations. He always knew what to say when you were feeling down, and he always knew how to make your smile bigger when you were already happy.

“Of course, but also about how I never checked or deleted my profile. Do you think I should try the dating thing again?” You asked him softly. You had never really spoken about dating or liking someone. You also never talked about the fact you met through a dating app.

“I think you should, but Korean men are not used to girls like you.” He told you while stuffing his mouth with food. Was he trying to avoid talking about you wanting to date someone?

“Girls like me? You mean me being not Korean?” You asked him uncomfortably, not knowing what to do with your hands.

“Yes.” He simply stated while he kept his eyes and attention on the food before him. Maybe you shouldn’t talk about this with Yunho. Perhaps you should just consider opening the topic of conversation again with your colleague Yuna. It was because of her you had met Yunho. She had swiped right when you weren’t paying attention. At first, you blamed her for doing something so reckless, but right now, you were grateful for her turning your lack of dating into her life’s mission.

You decided to drop the topic as both you and Yunho became a little awkward. The rest of the evening was pleasant, but once you returned home, there was still a bitter aftertaste. Why did he suddenly close up when you talked about your non-existent dating life? Was it that difficult to pretend to be interested? You decided to talk about your struggles to Yuna.

“Is it that weird for me to want to date?” You asked her after you explained the situation to her.

“I don’t know, maybe he’s jealous?” She told while sipping from her iced americano.

“We’re not like that, and I have discussed this with you before.” You told her sternly, not wanting to start that discussion again.

“You said it yourself he looks at you like you put the stars in the freaking sky.” She reasoned with you, but you simply ignored her. Yunho was not the problem at this moment.

“Honestly, this is not important. What should I do about my other situation?” You asked after you took a sip from your iced americano. Usually, cold coffee’s weren’t your cup of tea, but as everyone in Seoul was obsessed with an iced americano, you decided to learn to like it.

“I know someone who I could set you up with. His English is excellent, and he is very handsome. I can’t date him because he has dated one of my friends. But I still keep in touch with him from time to time. Do you want me to set it up?” She told you while she took out her phone.

“Isn’t that weird?” You asked her. She handed you her phone and showed you his Instagram account. He wasn’t indeed bad looking, but you still felt weird to date someone you had never talked to.

“That’s how Korean people date. Get used to it now that you are stuck here.” And she was right. You had to adapt to life here, even if it meant to do something that was out of your comfort zone. You simply nodded your head, and Yuna quickly made arrangements for your blind date.

—

“You’re going on a blind date?” Yunho asked you, but you couldn’t read him. He didn’t ask you in disbelief or anything, he simply asked you because he knew you didn’t like to date new people.

“Yuna arranged something.” You mumbled softly while you scooped a bit out of your shared ice cream pot. You were sitting next to Yunho on the swings of a playground close to where he lives. He held out the ice cream pot for you while you both were softly swinging. It wasn’t your first time on these swings. Whenever Yunho had a busy schedule you would meet him here to share some food. Tonight you decided to have some ice cream.

“When?” He asked you. He kept his gaze straight forward, not eating from the ice cream or looking at you. He didn’t seem invested in your story, but he did keep asking you questions.

“I don’t know yet. We’re still setting a date through Yuna. It’s so weird to not have his number and talk to the other person.” You explained to him while taking another scoop of the delicious chocolate dessert.

“That’s how normal Korean people date.” He simply stated. He still hadn’t taken a bite from his favourite flavour, and it confused you. Yunho is the type of guy to inhale food.

“Have you ever been on a blind date?” You asked him softly. He immediately turned his head toward you, but you couldn’t read the look in his eyes. He seemed to be thinking of something, but you couldn’t decipher him. It was always like that with him. He continually changes himself according to the situation. Sometimes you weren’t sure if you actually knew the real Yunho. If anyone even knew the real him. You’d like to think you came close to deciphering him, but he always surprised you.

“I consider our first meeting as my only experience of dating.” He confessed softly while looking deeply into your eyes. You couldn’t stand the intensity of his stare, so you decided to look away.

“At least you never had a disastrous date.” You mumbled softly. You were actually glad Yunho hadn’t really dated anyone. It made it even more extraordinary how the two of you met. Almost romantic.

“Have you dated a lot?” He asked you. He finally started to eat from the ice cream, and the tension that you didn’t know you were holding, was finally leaving your body.

“I haven’t really been active here. I only dated you in my time in Seoul, but back home I kind of dated a lot.” You tried to explain to him. You didn’t want to make it look like you were a serial dater. You wanted him to feel special like he made you feel.

“Any of them disastrous?” He asked you cautiously as if he was scared of your answer. Or at least, that’s what you hoped.

“Most of them were.” You laughed softly, remembering the handful of guys you have dated throughout your time. Some of them were okay, but most of them were just wrong. They only talked about themselves and asked you if you wanted to have a drink at their place. We all know what happens when you accept a drink. You’re not going to be sucking on a straw if you accept their invitation.

“Why do you keep on dating if most of them weren’t pleasant?” He asked you while he kept staring at you intently, and your heart did a weird thing where it skipped a beat. Why did he have such a significant effect on you lately?

“I’m a hopeless romantic. You know that.” You answered him honestly.

“I know you. You don’t want a relationship, so why keep on seeing people you barely know?” He stopped looking at you, and it felt as if you were losing him. You wanted his eyes on you forever. You wanted to look at him forever while he was staring at you.

“I have had one good relationship, and once you’ve had it, you just want it again.” You confessed.

“But the relationship ended. Why would you want to go through heartbreak again? You told me yourself you never wanted that again. What has changed?” He asked you, and honestly, you didn’t know the answer either. It’s true what he said. What has changed?

“Isn’t love the reason for everything? Why we live? Why we want to keep going in life?” You asked him hypothetically, knowing he had another reason to live. For his fans. For his band members. He doesn’t have time for love and all the problems that come with loving someone.

“I guess so.” He shrugged. He looked at his phone and got up immediately. “I have to go. I’m going to miss practise if I don’t leave right now.” He told you.

“Bye.” Was the only thing you could say when you saw him leave. You hated this part the most. You disliked him going, but there was no reason for him to say. The conversation had ended, and the ice cream had melted.

Y/N: You left your backpack. I’ll drop it off tonight. Yunho: Thanks. I thought I lost it. Y/N: 7 is okay? Yunho: Perfect!

“Y/N?” You quickly turned around to see who was calling you. “Are you free tonight?” Yuna asked you once she stood next to you. You really wanted to leave work, and bring back Yunho’s backpack before dropping dead on your couch.

“Why?” You asked her curiously.

“Felix is free tonight and asked if you wanted to get something to eat with him.” She told you excitedly, and you smiled. Felix wanted to spend his only free night with you. Not precisely with you because he didn’t know you, but it still felt good.

“What time?” You asked her returning her excitement for the night. It had been a while since you spend time alone with a guy. You didn’t count Yunho as you were simply friends.

“At eight. I’ll text you the details, and his number.”

“I can do that.” You confirmed her.

“I’ll text him that you’re in.” She said while running off to wherever she was heading to.

“Thanks.”

“Hurry. You need to get out of these work clothes into something more presentable.” Yuna told you. You looked down at your two-piece suit, and you almost panicked. This is most definitely not a suitable date look.

You quickly hurried home to put on your best dress, and reapply your make-up. You didn’t want to look like you had put too much effort in, but you still wanted to look presentable. You grabbed Yunho’s backpack before closing the door of your apartment. The restaurant Felix had chosen wasn’t far from Yunho’s practice room, so you had enough time to be a good friend and on time for your date.

“I’m Y/N. I’m here to give Yunho his backpack.” You told the person at the front desk. Usually, you could just walk in, but you always tried to check yourself in. You didn’t want people to think you were some weird fan who wanted to sneak into the boy’s practice room.

“I have you on our list. Yunho is in the practice room on the fifth floor.” The person told you nicely. You followed her instructions because you had never gone to the practice room by yourself. Usually, they call Yunho, and he would take you to wherever he wanted to hang out.

It wasn’t hard to find where Yunho was. You simply followed the noise once you walked out of the elevator. It warmed your heart that he worked for a company that let them have a lot of fun and free time. The reason he practices so much is that he wants to himself. His company has repeatedly asked him to slow down, but he really wanted to give the best to their fans. His ambition was something you adored about him. He isn’t the kind of guy to let you down.

“Yunho!” You said while knocking on the wall to signal you had come into their room. The boys stopped talking while Yunho turned around to where you were standing. He was dressed in black sweatpants and a black t-shirt, but somehow he stood out to you. The shirt was fitted in the right places, and you simply adored him in all black matched with his pale pink hair.

“Y/N! You’re…” Yunho started saying, but he never finished his sentence. He was staring at you with his mouth wide open.

“I’m what?” You asked him insecurely. Did you have something on your face or in your hair?

“Beautiful.” He whispered softly, but he quickly recovered himself. “What are you doing here?” He asked you while keeping his eyes locked on your frame. As if he didn’t want to miss a moment of you standing there.

“I told you I would bring back your backpack. You forgot it yesterday at the playground.” You explained to him, trying to hide your red face after he had called you beautiful. Had he really meant it? You didn’t think you looked much different than usual, but you did usually hang out with Yunho without make-up and in sweatpants. Maybe he had forgotten you were actually a pretty girl. You’d like to think you were pretty.

“Oh.” Was al he said which left you both staring at each other in silence. The other boys in the room softly whispered something to each other, but you didn’t care. Your eyes and your whole existence were fixed on Yunho.

“I have to go.” You told him once you found your voice again. It came out shaky, but it was enough for him to get the message.

“Where are you going?” He asked you while he ran his hand through his hair. His beautiful, candy-floss hair that you loved so much. You were never really a fan of boys colouring their in unnatural colours, but Yunho was the exception. He looked good in anything and everything.

“I have a date.” You confessed. Your hands were fiddling with the small bag you carried. Why was it so awkward to talk about this with Yunho? Why did you suddenly want him to tell you to not go on your date? Why could you only think of him and about him, and just him him him.

“Oh.” Was the only response you got, which was not the kind you wanted. Why did he look okay with you going on a date with someone else? Just get yourself together. Yunho is a friend who has told you from the start he didn’t want to date, and didn’t consider you someone who could change his mind. You had also told him you didn’t want a relationship, and you probably wouldn’t fall for him. There is nothing going on between the two of you.

“Okay. I’ll see you.” You finally responded after your internal struggle. He stood frozen in his spot, but you didn’t have the time to wait for him to wake up.

“Call me.” He quickly said before you left the room. “After your date.” He explained once he saw your confused expression. You simply nodded your head before saying goodbye to everyone. This time again, you left Yunho with a bad aftertaste. Something was changing, and you were scared of things to turn for the bad. You weren’t ready to say goodbye to Yunho because you hadn’t figured out your feelings for the pink-haired guy.

—

“You are Australian?” You asked your date in disbelief. You had met Felix in front of the restaurant, and you immediately hit it off. He was kind and a perfect gentleman for opening the door for you. He didn’t seem like the cocky guy, and you didn’t feel pressured to pretend to be someone you weren’t. It was also a nice change to speak English with someone who actually spoke English.

“I know I don’t look it, but yes I am.” He confirmed in a thick Australian accent, making you melt.

“You’re accent is to die for.” You told him dreamily. You’ve always had a thing for accents, and he was the perfect mixture of everything. He seemed confident, but not the kind of scaring you away. Not the type of guy who thought he was the most fantastic guy in the world, even though he probably came close.

“Thanks. So where are you from?” He asked you, and you couldn’t stop asking each other questions throughout the night. You shared a nice meal, but you wouldn’t remember the food. You would remember Felix and his funny stories he told you with his thick accent.

“So, who is the guy you’re trying to forget?” He suddenly asked you while he was walking you home. You stopped walking and looked at him with confused eyes. Why would he ask you something like that?

“Why are you asking?”

“I honestly think you’re a beautiful girl, but you haven’t really reacted to my flirting. I’m guessing there is someone else on your mind.” Felix explained himself, and it did actually make sense. He had tried to take your hand into his, and he had tried to flirt with you. Why hadn’t you reacted?

“I’m not sure if there is.” You told him honestly. You started walking again, but your thoughts weren’t in the conversation with Felix. Your thoughts immediately rushed back to Yunho.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Felix finally said. He pushed his hands back into his pockets while he walked next to you.

“There is honestly nothing to say. Nothing has happened, and nothing will ever happen.” You explained to him. He deserved an explanation of why you weren’t interested. You probably would have been all over him if it hadn’t been for Yunho.

“Have you ever tried anything? You don’t know if you don’t try.” Felix tried to help you. You looked into his eyes, and you could tell he was sincere. Felix actually wanted to help you, and it warmed your heart. There were still good guys here in Seoul, perhaps it is because he is Australian.

“We have made sure from the beginning we didn’t want anything. We met under very unusual circumstances.” You told him softly.

“If you’re not going to do anything about it, I wouldn’t mind taking your mind off him.” Felix offered. You stopped in front of your apartment building, and he followed your moves.

“Are you free next week?” You asked him. Your hands were fiddling with your small bag, a bit nervous about his reaction. Maybe he didn’t want to hang out with someone as confused as you are at this moment.

“I know a good place for some Australian food.” He told you cheekily, and you offered him a genuine smile. His eyes were scanning your lips, but you quickly broke the moment.

“Of course you do.” You laughed, opening the door of the complex.

“I’ll text you the details?” Felix asked while he kept the door open.

“Sure.” You nodded your head.

“Have a good night, Y/N,” Felix said before he left. Your heart didn’t skip a beat. Your eyes weren’t focused on his lips, and your palms weren’t sweaty. Felix is probably not the one for you, but someone is making your heart flutter, but you were convinced you didn’t make his palms sweaty.

Yunho: Why didn’t you call me yesterday? Yunho: How was your date? Yunho: Hello?

Y/N: I’ll call you tonight?

Yunho: You want to meet up tonight?

Y/N: What time?

Yunho: Whenever you want.

Y/N: When does your practise end?

Yunho: Doesn’t matter Yunho: I’ll make time for you Yunho: Just tell me the time and place, and I’ll be there

Y/N: playground at eight?

Yunho: I’ll be there

You don’t know why you felt so nervous about meeting Yunho at your usual spot. It felt like the first time. You decided to change out of your work clothes into a dress. The last time he had seen you in one, he had told you how beautiful you were. You wanted him to think you were always pretty. You wanted him to think you were the most gorgeous girl in the city. Did that make you pathetic?

You hadn’t slept the night before because you were constantly thinking about Yunho and how he made you feel. The only conclusion that makes sense is that you actually like him. That you have feelings for the person who has been kind of your best friend in a city where you didn’t know many people. You didn’t just like him because he was kind and considerate of you, but also because you find him attractive. You had always found him pretty, but lately, your thoughts have been involuntary wandering toward a different road.

It wasn’t just all in your head. He did stare at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Little did he know your focus was always on him even when you were looking up at the starry night sky.

“Y/N!” Yunho said softly. You were seated on the slide deep in thought about Yunho, you hadn’t noticed him walking over to you.

“Hi.” There wasn’t much you could say. You didn’t know how to start this conversation without losing him. You might have figured out your feelings for the man, but that didn’t mean you wanted to throw away the friendship you had with him. You were sure he didn’t have any feelings for you, simply because he didn’t have time for love. He didn’t have time to be in a relationship because he was an idol, and honestly, you did understand. You just wished it was different.

“What are you thinking?” Yunho asked you while he seated himself next to you in the sand.

“Nothing.”

“You look really pretty.”

“Can you not say these things?” You asked him irritated. You wanted him to figure out your feelings by himself. You didn’t wish to tell him because you were embarrassed. You were ashamed because you were the most cliche person on the planet at the moment. You had fallen for a good friend, and you didn’t want to lose him, but you also didn’t want him to be too sweet to you.

“That you’re beautiful?” He asked you, shocked. He tried to hold your hand, but you quickly pretended to be busy searching your bag for something invisible.

“Yes.” You simply confirmed. He reached out to you to brush a lost stray of hair behind your ear. Your heart was racing, and you hoped he didn’t hear your internal struggles whenever he touched you.

“Why?” His voice turned sad as if you had just beaten him. As if you had just told him to never eat again.

“Because I don’t know where it comes from.” You tried to explain, but it came out more cryptically than you had intended.

“What do you mean?” He asked you confused. His big eyes searching yours for an answer he was never going to find.

“I don’t know.” You broke the eye contact. You couldn’t look into his eyes without starting to cry. These feelings had always been there, but you had always tried to keep them hidden. Your date with Felix had awakened your inner feelings, and you couldn’t hide them anymore. You also didn’t want to tell him, scared of how he might react.

“Is everything all right?” Yunho asked you worriedly. He finally managed to grab your hand to hold it in his. His other hand touched your cheek softly, scared he might break you.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry.” You told him softly, letting your hand fall into his hand. You liked his delicate touch. You wanted to feel of his skin on yours, but you were greedy. You wanted and needed more.

“Did that guy do anything?” Yunho suddenly asked you in a raised voice. His sudden change startled you, but you quickly shook your head. The unexpected act made your heart flutter. He did really care for you, why wasn’t that enough?

“Someone else hurt me.” You simply stated. He let go of your hand and quickly stood up. He surprised you again by his actions, but you weren’t surprised. Yunho always surprised you. You had never really figured him out.

“Who did? Where is he? What happened?” He asked you at a fast pace. You didn’t understand half of what he had said, but you knew the intention.

“You did.” You confessed, locking your eyes with his again. You reached out for is hand, and he let you hold his sweaty palms.

“Me?” He crouched down until he was at eye level. He looked hurt, confused, and not okay. Di you just break him? You hadn’t even told him why. Did he figure it out? Did he not want to break your heart?

“I like you.” You whispered while you gently stroked his face. His head rested in your hand while he closed his eyes. Your other hand pushed his hair back so you could look at him. His hair was always in front of his eyes, but you loved to look into his eyes.

“Can you say that again?” He whispered softly with his eyes closed.

“I like you, Yunho.” You whispered again, afraid you might scare him off if you were any louder. His eyes finally opened, and a single tear fell from his left eye. His hand wiped away the lost tear. He brushed your hair behind your ear and just looked at you. You couldn’t decipher what was going on inside his head, but you felt him moving closer to you. He looked at your lips and back into your eyes as if he was asking for permission. You simply nodded your head while you kept your hands frozen in his hair.

He leaned forward with determination, and you could feel his breath fanning over your face. He smelled like peppermint and a bright future. He looked like a dream when he was staring at you as if you put the stars in the night sky just for him. He stopped the moment before your lips would connect, and your heart dropped. Why did he stop? But before you could react, his lips connected with yours. It was so innocent, yet rewarding to feel his lips on yours. It wasn’t like one of those close-mouthes kisses like you had never kissed before. It was a full-on, open-mouthed almost sexual kiss which left you wanting more. The way our lips fit like puzzle pieces. The way he reacted when you pulled him closer, and he held you tighter and tighter. When you broke away after what had seemed like ages, he simply stared at you.

“I love you.” He softly confessed before his lips crashed on yours again, making your heart skip a beat, and your palms sweaty.

#yunho #yunho fanfic #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez fan fiction #yunho fic #jeong yunho #jeong yunho x reader #ateez x reader #ateez x Y/N #ateez x you

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goth-girlfriend · 4 years

Text

Endeavor’s Intern

(4/?)

Pairing: Endeavor/Enji Todoroki x Student Reader

Rating: Fluff

Warnings: none?

Notes: Spelling errors? I was going to finish it with this part but decided I’d like to add a bit more before I finish.

💙❤️🖤❤️💙🖤💙❤️🖤❤️💙🖤💙❤️🖤❤️💙

“SHOTO!” I jumped onto his back and clung to him. His hands grabbed my thighs to keep me from falling off his back.

Deku looking shocked, his eyes wide.

“ARE YOU TWO DATING?!” Denki stepped into ask.

I laughed as Shoto seemed unamused, I wrapped my arms around his neck and rested my chin on his shoulder.

“What do you think?” I asked and tilted my head.

“Yes?” Denki asked instead of answering.

“...........ok.” I shrugged and moved upwards and tried to get higher.

“So, let’s get to class.” I said still cling to Shoto.

He sighed and started to walk, Deku fell into step on our left, Denki to our right. He was curious that’s for sure.

“Also no, it’s not Shoto I’m dating. He’s just the bestest friend in the whole world!” I squeezed him.

He sighed and bounced to get me higher. Denki didn’t seem impressed or like he believe it.

“So winter break comes up next week. What are you going to be doing?” I asked.

“Spending it with my step mom.” He said keeping a straight face.

“Awe, that’s sweet. I like her, she’s sweet and pretty.” I smiled at him.

“Yeah, Dad never stops talking about her.” He looked back at me.

“Anyways, what about you guys?” I asked the other two.

“I’ll be him with my mom.” Deku answered.

“I’ll be with the fam, you know how it is.” Denki said and sighed with a smile.

“That’s sweet.” I said, we finally stopped at the class door.

“Oof, such a short walk.” I mumbled.

“Because you weren’t walking.” Shoto said rolled his eyes.

“Hehe,” I smield and opened the door, “What are we waiting for?”

We entered the class only three of four people were here. I made my wya to my seat and took a deep breath and sighed. Deku and Denki went to their seats and I was lucky to be beside Shoto.

“So where are we going?” I asked and tilted my head.

“I don’t know, he said it was a surprise. My brother and sister don’t know. I think they would freak out if they figure out his second girlfriend is the same age as his last child.” Shoto whispered back.

“Yeah, So it’s just you me and the big guy?” I asked, I paused and thought, “and Deku?” I I nodded in his direction.

“I was going to ask him until Kaminari showed up. I was just lucky you showed up to break the silence.” He was so serious.

“Oh, well, tomorrow is Friday. Do it then or you never will.” I sighed and pat his shoulder.

“Now I’m cold soooooo,” I slid closer to Shoto and hugged his left arm.

“You’re so warm.” I pressed my cheek into his shoulder, “So warm.”

A lot of people rushed in started to take seats just as the bell rang.

“Everyone shut up and sit down.” I smield At Aizawa as I moved to my desk.

It’s gotta be a struggle being a pro hero and a teacher. Especially with this class.

“Alright, as a reward for how good most of you have been doing and have grown. We’re going to be having a party.” Cheers erupted.

“SHUT UP BEFORE I CANCEL IT.” Everyone stopped.

“It’s nothing fancy, just our class. Today is our last day before break starts. We’re going to run a quick test like on the first day of school to see how much your control over your quirk and skills have improved. So get out of here and go get dressed.” He sighed and pulled out a juice pouch.

“Atleast it’s not a test.” I mumbled and stood up lingering at the back of class avoiding the big group. The day went by, just like the first day, long and sweaty. Luckily it wasn’t as hot as the beginning of the school year.

Bakugo still reminded number one, followed by Midoriya who tied with Todoroki then Shoji, Tokoyami, Kirishima, me, the rest followed, and the most important part, Mineta was last. I smiled, he’d progressed but not enough to move up. He was lucky the first time Midoriya didn’t have a quirk exactly but this time he lucked out.

Every sat down taking deep breaths and trying to relax on the drying field. Todorki sat his legs ages did him and leaning back on his open palms. I dropped beside him a threw my myself back over his lap.

“It’s hot.” I whined taking his right hand putting it on my forehead, “You’re such a good friend.”

The rest of the Deku squad came around and started to chatter, I was staring up at the sky as it started to turn from its pale blue to a darker blue. The sun was moving over making room for the moon. I sighed and sat up.

“Deku, I need to talk to you and Todoroki.” They both looked at me. “Privately.”

After they followed me to a more secluded part of the field I turned to Shoto and gave him a look. “So, this isn’t my business so I’m leaving.”

I turned and walked not waiting. I made it back and plopped down beside Tokoyami who was sitting in the shade of a tree. Just a calm and nice person to sit silently with while the time passed. He opened his right eye and looked at me. I gave a small smile and he nodded before closing it again. This is what a friendship is made of, no words, just a peace full silence.

Time passed and I found myself staring at the sun through the leaves thinking about times I’ve spent in secret at the Todoroki Estate. My parents didn’t know, they lived in a different city, I had been staying in a student apartment until the school opened dorms. Whenever unexpected breaks came up I’d just tell them I was staying with Deku and his mom and they approved. In reality I’d go and stay with Shoto and stay in his house in the guest room. I might be infatuated with his dad but I’m not a loose woman. I arched my chest popped my back and stretched my legs out. My mind drifting to memories, of shopping with Shoto using his dads card, spending time with Endeavor, stuck under his heavy arm pressed against his side as we watched movies. Lingering in his office when he was busy with hero stuff. Hanging out with Shoto more and getting to know more about Endeavor then I would’ve expected. Soft touches and forehead kisses. Helping mend his and Shoto’s relationship, they might not be lovey dovey but now they can hold a simple conversation without cold stares and loud Soba slurping. I thought of every picture in my camera roll and Snapchat, picture with Enji, pictures with my future step son Shoto, pictures with both of them. Pictures of just them together. The day came to an end, and everyone finally started to head back in. I walked beside Tokoyami, just casually. When everyone was hot and back in the classroom Aizawa told us to dress nice for tomorrow for a photo. Everyone mumbled an okay and then left.

“So, Shoto....” I started as I dropped onto his bed, “How’d it go?”

“He said yes.” His simple answer as he looked through his closet.

“Great.” I chirped and stretched across his bed.

“He now also knows you’re going to be my step mother.” I chocked.

“what....” I faced him.

“A family vacation and you would be there, I can’t lie and say I invited you. It would make no sense for you to just show up. So I told him you were dating my dad.” He found a white button up shirt and grabbed closet hanger.

“Oh, so I can call him son in law now....” I grinned up at him as he tensed.

“Sure.” He mumbled and didn’t face me.

“NOW TELL ME.” I shoved myself up, “Where are we going?”

“Ask Endeavor when you see him today, now get up we have to get to class. I won’t be late for this photo because you’re interested in my dad and vacation.”

The party passed quickly, Momo tried to make a move on Todoroki which was stopped by Deku accidentally bumping into Iida who bumped into Uraraka who bumped Momo out of the way and away from Shoto. It was a calm first period, we took photo’s with Aizawa Separately and then together as a large group. He seemed happy as he looked at his phone until Kaminari screamed.

“IM GOING TO MISS YOU DADZAWA.” and then hugged his shoulders which led to a group hug.

The rest of the day was spent watching movies, when the day finally ended class 1-A spent all night singing Karaoke and playing games. Everyone heard Bakugo genuinely laugh after Kirishima tackles him and started to tickle his sides. He’s the only one brave enough and the only one who would’ve survived. Bakugo was nice the rest of the night, small ‘heh’s coming out of him every now thin. Leaning on each other and smiling talking about things that happened until Mina brought up the game of secret Santa we had all decided to play. So everyone traded gifts and decided to not open them until Christmas the only thing being you have to send a video to the person who sent it to you. I thanked Todoroki as he gave me a box. I gave one to Kirishima, who gave one to Bakugo, who gave one to Deku, who gave one to Tokoyami, then Mina, then Shoji, then Ochako, then Mineta, then Sero, then Ojiro, then Jirou, the rest followed until everyone had one gift.

“Group chat! Everyone has to send a picture of what they get!” Kirishima said and made a chat before anyone could deny.

I smield down at my phone as people sent messages with names and pictures. The night ended and we all went our separate way in the morning with goodbyes, take care, hugs and platonic cheek kisses.

I was the last one, everyone had left. I head back up and grabbed my bag, and a bag with the things I needed. I walked home, looking up at the sky. It was starting to pepper itself with stars. I made my way up an apartment building to the third level. Room 300, I opened it. It looked exactly how I last remembered it. Navy walls, white counter tops. Black glass Kotatsu, navy cushions with stars and constellations. I sighed the cold air filled my lungs. I stepped in, and turned on the bright white lights. I locked the door behind me. The kitchen was still small, white walls, black stove and sink, black refrigerator, wood knife block with gold knives I bought for the esthetic. I saw a bowl of mangos and picked a note that was laying on it.

‘(Y/n),

Were sorry we couldn’t bring you home. We sent a grocery order, If you’re reading this note it means the order made it to your apartment. Your dad and I sent you gifts we bought for Christmas. We love you, and stay safe.

Also, I sent a few extra hundred to your bank account buy yourself something nice while your off for break.

We love you, Merry Christmas. Well call you soon.’

I nodded at the note and just sighed. I made my way to my room, the walls here mimicked the living room with gold trim. I had placed metallic vinyl stars along the crown and down wards. I stepped over to my desk and it’s chair. I looked at my bed, king size leaving almost no room for anything else. Two standing lamps on either side of the head of the bed. The windows beside it were letting the moons light shine in through.

I sighed and laid in my bed and took in the feeling of the cold heavy blankets. I felt my eyes stinging, Why was I crying? I’d get to spend a week with Enji and Shoto and Deku. But I guess after that I’ll be alone for four weeks. Being alone that’s why, I sighed and rolled onto my stomach burying my face into a pillow. I pulled the blanket over myself and fell asleep in the moonlight.

I woke up heart racing to tapping on my window. I looked at the window ready to face whatever it could be. All I came to face were large slow raindrops pelting themselves against the window. I watched the skies, bright blue and purple lightening bolts lights up the dark. I wish it could rain forever sometimes, but I guess that’s just not the case. I sighed and pushed the blankets back feeling the heat build up. The rumbling of my ac started up, I yawned and stretched. At some point last night I ditched my pants and bra. I pushed myself up and took a shower and got ready to do nothing. It’ll be this week and next week before I get to see Shoto and Enji. What should I do?

I looked around my living room and huffed, “I probably should’ve stocked up on entertainment. I guess I can go to that large art store down the street. Or binge watch some Netflix.” I grabbed my phone to check my bank account. I’d been saving up and rarely spending to be able to splurge on myself on Christmas. I’d saved up $800, and let me see what my mom sent. “600?!”

“I have $1,400.00 to spend on myself! I could do so much... but I should probably save it for vacation in case I want to buy something.” I closed my phone and just decided to binge watch Avatar The Last Airbender. I got antsy and started to practice baking. I wasn’t bad but I wasn’t a pro.

I sighed leaning on the counter staring at the screen, Zuko’s back story played and I spoke to myself. “He’s definitely the reason I’ve had so many explosive crushes.”

The rest of the day went by slow, I recited the deliveries of present, I made cupcakes and a cake, an egg pudding, and I tried my hand in mochi. I sighed and started to make the icing to actually finish the cupcakes. I looked up smiling at a funny scene from Avatar. I started to pipe on the icing, and smiled at the black and white swirls.

The first week passed slowly, I used every tube of paint I had and still cut them open, I wore down every crayon, used every pot and pan at least five times. I started watching naruto with fillers, and took up sculpting with ten pounds of air dry clay I got on sale for four dollars. I smiled at the little frog I had finally finished, I put it in the sun to let it dry with the other frogs and turtles.

‘Hey you wanna come over?’ ❄️🔥

‘Yes please😢’ ☀️🖤

‘Alright, you should know what to bring by now. We’ll be there to pick you up in 30.’ ❄️🔥

‘Your such a life saver 😭 do you like sweets by the way?’ ☀️🖤

‘Sure, what’s your address? Natsuo will eat it if I dont so what do you have?’ ❄️🔥

‘A bakery, I just sent you my location’ ☀️🖤

‘You live in a bakery? 🤔’ ❄️🔥

‘Nope, just been bored. I’ll pack so see you when you get here.💙💙💙’ ☀️🖤

‘Food?’ ❄️🔥

‘Bread???’❄️🔥

‘🍩🍩🍩??? 👀 👀’ ❄️🔥

I finished packing and grabbed my favorite pillow and went to the kitchen and packed two cakes and about two dozen different muffins, and a tin of all my cookies.

‘I’m ready.’☀️🖤

‘You live here? 🤭🤭’ ❄️🔥

‘Yeah why?’ ☀️🖤

‘Your husband doesn’t seemed to pleased....👀’ ❄️🔥

‘HE LIVES IN A MANSION MY APARTMENT IS LIKE HALF THE SIZE OF ONE OF YOUR SMALL CLOSETS. 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔💔’ ☀️🖤

‘Sorry 😅 just come out.’ ❄️🔥

‘I need help to bring boxes down. 😐’ ☀️🖤

‘He’s going.’ ❄️🔥

I opened the door and came face to face with Enjis chest before he knocked.

‘Enji!’ I cheered.

“Shoto said you needed help.” He said and stood there looking down at me.

“Yeah, I uh....work for a baked and I have a lot of sweets that I’m not going to eat so I asked Todoroki and he said I could take them so he and Natsuo could eat.” I smiled up at him.

“I see.” He looked past me at boxes.

“Well let’s get these down then.” He picked up the boxes with ease and took my bag still after I denied.

I followed him, my phone and wallet in hand, I looked at the building one last time before getting into the car. I sat in the back Shoto passenger and Enji driving. I smiled and scooted to the middle and watched the scenery from the middle of the windshield.

We made it to the estate and I learned Natsuo and Fuyumi wouldn’t be home till Wednesday, considering it’s Saturday I can love on my boo. I settled in the lavish guest room and then made a bee live for Enji’s office. I burst in not knocking and found him standing over his desk. I moved behind him and hugged his waist pushing my right cheek into his back.

“I missed you.” I smield and squeezed him, it had no physical effect considering the man was rock hard.

He pulled my off and turned around, I hugged him again and he took me into his chest. He was so warm, and broad. I smiled into his warmth and enjoyed the physical affection. I felt tears pricking at my eyes, I’m not alone anymore.

The next two hours I spent talking to Enji and kissing his cheeks at random times and hugging his neck and shoulders and arms. I left once he got a phone call and it sounded important. I found Todorki staring at one of the boxes I brought.

“Let’s eat!” I said and popped the box of cake open.

His aurora darkened and he held up a knife, ‘I’ve been waiting for this.’

He cut into the cake and we started to feat, we finished the cake laughing on a sugar high at the sound of Shoto’s chair making a funny sound.

I smield at Shoto and he smield back.

“I’m glad it’s you and not just some random lady who doesn’t care about anyone else but herself.” His words were weird.

“I don’t know what you mean but okay.”

“You make us happy, my dad, you spend time with me and see me as a person and friend when no one else did.”

“Stop Sho, I’ll cry.” I said now understanding.

“He’s lucky, and if he messes up he’ll lose the both of us.” He threatened before stuffing himself with more cake.

His belly now round as he slouched.

“I love you both, really, as much as I can. I really honestly do.” I smield down at the empty messy box.

“I’ll clean up, go clena your face.” I handed him a napkin and patted his head.

I cleaned up thinking about what the future could hold and wondering what it does hold for the future.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

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kittycatasaurus · 4 years

Text

Hisirdoux x Reader // Word count:1.5k No warnings I don’t think?

This was purely self indulgent since there isn’t too much fic of my boy, decided I’d post it in case anyone else wants some douxie love but be warned I haven’t finished a fanfic in years so it might flow poorly and I have no clue how to write speech lmao. I’m pretty sure it’s genderneutral, please let me know if I used masc/fem pronouns for reader anywhere and I’ll make sure to check carefully if I post anymore fics. Hope at least one person enjoys it but anywho let’s go!

Today was a normal day, average in most every way (for being a day you dared to venture outside). The weather was pleasant and mild, the streets weren’t too busy, and soon enough you would be meeting up with a friend to spend the weekend sleeping over at their apartment. Fortunately for you they lived in the same area, hence you were familiar with the specific building of flats where they resided, however, it had been a while since you’d stepped foot inside one of said architectures. This, paired with the many urban legends you’d heard over the years of ghosts and spirits transporting folks into different dimensions, led to a paranoia of elevators in tall housing complexes. Five or less floors was as comfortable as you would desire ideally. But alas, your friend lived almost on the top floor, meaning it was the elevator for no more than a few minutes, or dozens of flights of stairs. As much as you had your fears, you didn’t feel like walking up all those stairs to arrive exhausted before your friend, so you sucked it up and boarded the elevator. The fact that no one else was inside both put you on edge and caused you to let out a sigh of relief, elevator journeys always feel awkward with a stranger or two.

As you were letting out your nervous breath with closed eyes, you failed to notice one other person board the elevator before the doors shut on their own. Opening your eyes after a few seconds, you were startled by the presence of a young (looking) man dressed in punk-ish attire. The embarrassing noise you let out startled the man as well who turned to face you, eyes wide and a question on his tongue, “Are, are you alright? Did I startle you? My apologies love.” The word ‘love’ broke you out of the trance you’d been under; simply gawking at the beautiful man before you, a blush erupting over your face at such a handsome person referring to you with such a term. Clocking that he’d genuinely asked you something before calling you love, you barely got out an answer, “YES! I mean, yes, thank you, sorry, I’m fine, just spaced out for a moment there…” Trailing off after that mess of a reply, you dropped your gaze to the floor of the elevator. Before the silence could settle the man chuckled before it shifted to full on laughter. Before you could even come up with your next thought, the man stopped his giggling fit to say “I hope that didn’t seem like I was laughing at you, I was really more laughing at your reaction to yourself, that was quite precious, the way you fumbled about with your words.” Honestly you’d probably be quite offended had he not said that with the sweetest smile you had ever had the fortune of witnessing. Still embarrassed, you simply gave a curt nod and resumed looking at the corner. The next few seconds continued in silence as you passed by over half the floors until the elevator came to an abrupt stop. When the doors failed to open upon this pause, it got you thinking something was unfortunately wrong. After a moment of holding your breath, the elevator still failed to either continue its ascension or open the doors, resulting in you letting an “Oh bother” slip out. The man seemed to just then realise the elevator was stuck himself and immediately hit the help button before him.

“Uh, try not to panic alright? I’m sure someone’ll be on their way to help soon so you don’t need to worry.” The stranger’s attempt to reassure and comfort you was greatly appreciated, however you weren’t so much frightened of being trapped in a tight and high up space as you were embarrassed to be in such an environment with a stranger, albeit a cute one. Not wanting to concern the kind man, you managed a somewhat more confident reply than earlier, “Thank you, but I’ll be fine, no worries, I wasn’t going to panic. Um, I really appreciate your consideration though.”

The man looked surprised for a moment before his mouth moved up into a smirk, “Huh, did I imagine our earlier chat or something, you sounded like a whole different person just now.”

His teasing once again caused your face to redden, but you didn’t let him shake you, rolling your eyes with an insincere huff.

“So, I don’t know about you but I’d rather we not spend the next however long in silence. How about we start with names? I’ll go first, the name’s Hisirdoux Casperan, but my friends call me Douxie.” He winked. This ‘Douxie’ character seemed to think he absolutely oozed charm (and he would be right but still) and despite not wanting to fall for it, you couldn’t keep the small grin off your face as he bowed dramatically.

“Nice to meet you Hisirdoux, you can call me (anytime) Y/N. So what brings you round these parts?” You replied.

The pleasant conversation kept up, you were amazed at how easy Douxie was to talk to. Normally the idea of having to talk to a stranger to fill up silence made you want to simply stop existing, but with Hisirdoux you found yourself wanting the chat to last forever. However, all good things must come to an end, you begrudgingly thought as someone finally showed up to pry open the door to allow you and Douxie to leave the elevator. Only then did you realise that the pair of you must have been stuck inside for a couple hours at least as your friend was nervously standing in the hall. Before going over to them, you stopped yourself, turning back to face Hisirdoux who was already looking at you forlorn. He snapped out of it the second he noticed you had turned back to face him though and you swore you could see a blush on his face. Jogging up to him you spoke with unbelievable confidence “I don’t know what I’ll do if I never see you again, so I’m going to have to ask for your number Douxie.”

Hisirdoux was both impressed and flustered by your bold line resulting in him writing his number on your arm with an uncharacteristically shy giggle. All the while your friend stood in awe mere feet away.

“I’ll call you tonight Doux?” You half stated, half asked as you backed up towards your friend. Douxie simply nodded in response as you both waved goodbye.

The second the door closed after you and your friend returned to their flat, your confident façade evaporated and your friend started freaking out as quietly as they could allow themselves to. “OMG OMG OMG” They started, “who was that? They were so cute? You were flirting!” The cheesiest grin was on their face all the while.

“Hush you! His name is Hisirdoux…” You grumbled, ever so embarrassed by their reaction. However, they were clearly not satisfied with the information given to them so you continued “We met on the elevator, what was I supposed to do after he started talking to me, ignore him? Besides you saw how cute he is.” The last part was muttered under your breath but your friend still managed to hear and proceeded to freak again. Deciding to ignore them for the time being, you pulled out your phone and saved Douxie into your contacts debating whether or not to text him yet. Your internal debate ended when you heard “do it” from your friend in a surprisingly soft tone. Looking up, you saw a gentle smile on their face, encouraging you to suck it up and send the boy a text, it was a simple line, just to do the job. “Hey Douxie, this is Y/N, from the elevator :)”, The text was sent before you could begin overthinking. After just a few moments, a reply came through “Thanks for specifying, I might not have remembered had you not mentioned the elevator we only got out of 20 minutes ago ;)” His sarcasm was just as pleasantly irritating through text as it had been in person and all you sent in response was a “>:p”. You pictured him laughing at that and could do nothing to stop the smile that overtook your face. Your friend decided to leave you to your daydreams as they returned to playing whatever game they had on, as Hisirdoux and you managed to continue chatting for hours until it became quite late and your eyes were struggling to stay open. As you let out another long yawn you heard your friend call out, “all right you, pack it in, you need to get to sleep now, say goodnight and finish up already.” After yet another grumble of reluctant agreement, you started on your last text of the night “Ugghhh my friend said I have to go to sleep now so goodnight I guess Doux. Sweet dreams, loverboy <3” Your tired brain had no filter for what was off bounds to say for having just met and you didn't think twice about sending a heart emoji before tucking yourself under the covers and closing your eyes, almost immediately zonking out. One last text came through, though you wouldn’t see it until morning, wishing you pleasant dreams as well, although Hisirdoux ended his message with ‘angel’, liking the name loverboy for himself.

#hisirdoux casperan #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux #toa hisirdoux #x reader #tales of arcadia #douxie #douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #tales of arcadia x reader #toa fanfic

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southeastasianists · 4 years

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Editor’s note: The following is a guest piece authored by LGBT+ advocacy group Heckin Unicorn on so-called conversion therapy in Singapore. It was not produced by Coconuts Singapore.

Sam embarked on a journey of self-discovery in his 20s. He had been through many abusive relationships, and for reasons he couldn’t quite grasp, he’d always felt that something was missing in his life. Sam wanted to get in tune with his emotions. He wanted to heal.

At 26, Sam flew to Japan to attend a spiritual workshop. The workshop’s exercise was simple, but intense: attendees were paired up, and for 3 hours, each pair had to stare meditatively into each other’s eyes. The poetic beauty in this exercise wasn’t lost to him: staring into the windows of another’s soul would help him get in touch with his own.

Yet for hours, nothing happened.

Then his sensei came over and gently touched his chest, or what spiritual practitioners called the “heart space”. And in a single stroke, Sam’s inner soul broke loose with an explosive force. He started shrieking — so uncontrollably, in fact, that he had to be restrained by several workshop attendees. Anguish, anger, and confusion raced through his mind. It was an excruciating 30 minutes of raw physical reaction, as if years of emotions ripped through his body. Yet it was nothing compared to what was about to hit him in the months to come.

Because in that moment, something clicked into place. Sam suddenly recalled that he was a victim of “conversion therapy” over a decade ago. He finally understood why he’d always felt that something was missing, and why he felt so strongly that he had to heal himself. Deeply repressed and harrowing memories came rushing back like an avalanche.

Sam fought to stay alive over the next 3 months. He suffered from hallucinations, and would cry inconsolably for days on end. He would vomit uncontrollably. His body burned in pain. He wanted to end the suffering. He wanted to end his life. But in between the painful outbreaks, Sam found the strength to fight for his survival. He knew that to live, he had to find out more about what had happened to him. He began researching extensively about “conversion therapy”, and the more he researched, the more he recalled the lost years of his adolescence.

Slowly, his memories fell into place.

Sam went through a lot at a young age. He learnt that he was gay while going through puberty. And through interactions with his closest family members, he learned that it was something he needed to get rid of.

When he came out to his mum at 13, she told him that she expects a grand funeral when she dies. It was her cold, indirect way of telling him that she expects him to bear children and grandchildren for her. When Sam turned to his aunt, she called him derogatory names and told him that people will not accept him if he continues to be gay. The message from his family was clear: turn straight, or else.

So at 15, Sam scoured the internet for answers about his sexuality. In the age of dial-up internet, genuine LGBTQ+ content was hard to come by. The information that he found about STDs scared him — HIV was still called the “gay virus” back then. Sam started getting desperate. He needed to find a way to turn straight.

And then he found a solution — or so he thought.

Sam began attending a “conversion therapy” programme offered by a local church when he was 15. It marketed itself as a counselling service that could help people who were “struggling with unwanted same-sex attraction”, and sounded exactly like what Sam was looking for. Even though he only signed up for their counselling services, he felt compelled to attend their church services as the years went by. His family never knew that he was participating in “conversion therapy” sessions; they were more concerned that he was converting from Taoism to Christianity.

Perhaps the scariest part about the “conversion therapy” programme was how, to 15-year-old Sam, it just felt right. Sam’s 1-on-1 sessions with his counsellor felt like normal counselling sessions. Sure, scripture was quoted a lot in their hour-long sessions, but to Sam — and anyone who desperately wanted to turn straight, for that matter — everything seemed to make sense. Because in a world full of rejection, the programme claimed to provide all the answers.

Sam’s memories about his counselling sessions are hazy, but their core message remains clear in his mind: you’ll go to hell if you’re gay. It was a powerful and terrifying message, and it fueled Sam’s desire to continue with the programme. He didn’t know back then that his sexual desires were innate and perfectly normal, so he confided his feelings with his counsellor and followed everything he was instructed to do. For a long time, everything he heard in his counselling sessions made him feel like turning straight was a real possibility.

Celibacy was a strong mandate of the “conversion therapy” programme. Sam’s counsellor told him many times that he would go to hell unless he stopped masturbating. He told Sam that it was wrong and sinful to have sexual desires. And as an impressionable teenager going through the peak of puberty, Sam absorbed and believed everything his counsellor told him.

Throughout his 4 years in the programme, Sam suppressed his desires and took things to the extreme. He would hold tightly onto his bed frame every night before going to bed to prevent himself from touching his body. It was a physically and mentally exhausting exercise, but Sam managed to push through every night for 6 consecutive months before he succumbed to his desires. He wouldn’t know this until years later, but this extreme psychological conditioning left him with a debilitating inability to touch himself.

In one church session, the pastor discouraged churchgoers from listening to secular music. Only Christian music should be allowed in their lives, the pastor declared. The next week, Sam brought his entire music CD collection to church, and watched it being burnt and destroyed. Sam was so enthralled by the programme’s promises that no physical coercion was required to get him to engage in such extreme activities. To him, listening to everything they say was the only way to not end up in hell.

There were a few reasons that ultimately made Sam leave the programme after 4 years. First of all, nothing worked. Sam knew that he was still gay, and that all he managed to do was to suppress his innate desires and convince himself that he isn’t worthy of love. He was also harassed by a cell group leader, but nothing seemed to be done about it after he raised this up to the church leadership. And in an attempt to negotiate some joy back into his life, Sam asked a church friend if God would accept him if he were to be in a loving gay relationship, but abstained from sex for life. The answer: an unequivocal no.

When Sam left the programme at 19, he wasn’t a changed man — he was broken. He left not because he realised that their teachings harmed his mental health, but because after 4 years of trying, he has resigned to his fate of going to hell.

Sam turns 38 this year. And in the last decade or so, he’s been to hell and back.

After spending thousands of dollars in medical scans, Sam was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. In simple terms, he experiences chronic physical pain induced by his extreme psychological trauma (side note: psychological trauma isn’t the only factor that could induce symptoms of fibromyalgia). These painful outbreaks aren’t just unpredictable, but also incurable. His chest would tighten and he would gasp for air; his face would twitch suddenly and uncontrollably; he would suffer from the inability to speak; he is often fatigued and would suffer from migraines.

Sam also faced considerable financial challenges over the last couple of decades. There were months when Sam was unable to get out of bed. His inner demons would take control, and he would find himself once again fighting for his life. Because of this, Sam had been in and out of jobs. This, coupled with his expensive medical treatment and therapies, set his finances back considerably.

It would be nice if we could end Sam’s story on a positive note. But the truth is that even though Sam is a fierce survivor, his experience with “conversion therapy” still affects him decades after the sessions have ended. Sam isn’t ready to date yet, because he thinks that he carries too much emotional baggage for any relationship to work. He continues to face difficulties fully accepting his sexuality, even though he understands that there’s nothing wrong with being gay. And he continues to sleep with his arms wide apart, because physical contact still makes his body burn in pain.

Let this be clear: “conversion therapy” practices exist in Singapore. Many of these programmes continue to showcase “success” cases without acknowledging, or perhaps understanding, how “conversion therapy” can irreparably damage a person’s psychological and physical wellbeing.

According to the United Nations, any attempt to change or suppress someone’s sexual orientation or gender identity is a form of “conversion therapy”. Many international psychiatric organisations have condemned “conversion therapy” practices because the medical consensus agrees that they not only don’t work, but could cause mental harm to participants (page 115). Taiwan has fully banned “conversion therapy” practices, while Germany has done so for minors. Other countries such as Canada, Israel, New Zealand, and the UK are considering legislation that would make them illegal.

Yet “conversion therapy” remains legal in Singapore. Many teenagers like Sam will continue to enrol in programmes that psychologically condition them to suppress their innate sexuality. Most of them would emerge from the programmes with their sexuality unchanged, but mental health deeply affected. Some of them will kill themselves.

#Southeast Asia #Singapore #Conversion Therapy #LGBTQIA Issues #LGBTQIA Rights #Christianity

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crackcrocs · 3 years

Text

DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #3

3. Transformation Central

the entities of my personalities would like to come together in one voice that speaks through me, we or I call this collection of words from the mustiest corners of my brain to this note page to voice something that might come close to what I feel underneath the skin I wear. In all my unorganised words- I might even go as far as to call this a poem, titled:

‘TRANSFORMATION CENTRAL’

sub characters in my head would appreciate if this could be visualised & understood through as deep a lens as humanly possible. even I confuse myself so if you can decode or relate to any of this, wonderful. If not, I’m locked in my own mind, swallowed the keys to my soul.

SIMILARITIES & INTERCONNECTEDNESS BETWEEN HUMAN & PLANT CONSCIOUSNESS EXIST! if you look closely at my nose freckles you’ll see the resemblance of the constellations above. if you look at the human veins & the layout of a tree, this is further proof.

{VISUALS THROUGH A SEPIA WINDOW STARING @ THE AUTUMN LEAFS; IMAGINING THE SEEDS UNDERNEATH, THROUGH NUMB ROOT VESSELS THAT PERMEATE THROUGH EVERY MEMBRANE OF MY EXTERNAL TO INTERNAL ENVIRONMENT}

~FEATURING THE VICIOUS CYCLE OF DEPRESSION & PERFECTIONISM.

here goes:

What is this part of my mind ?

If you want; delve inside-

I may look sweet like Alice,

but underneath it all

I deteste looking in the mirror

-cos I see the mad hatter.

my inner child needs a platter-

full of care not distortion & abuse pls.

less fibbin would’ve been a breeze.

now following the dead fish in the stream!

HOW on EARTH do I fit with the cod & the Haddock?

I’m the rainbow fish- beat & battered.

dim my own light cos I’m too afraid to shine.

alone.

thieves tried to steal my shiny scales.

I sat and watched them grow.

In the sea realm they were mean gargantuan selfish whales, with poisonous shark fangs & alligator tails. scorpion hands. (gremlins)

and still they make me feel like the alien-

I cant take it.

Make it make sense ?

I can’t.

controller in my hand-

Off balance stance.

anxiously I move round like a wobbly jelly.

where’s the button to balance my chi & shut out the ego ?

the teLLIE telling lies to our vision!

change the channel aura terracotta orange- daily dosage of vitamin D & C.

catch me sun gazing by the sea

head buzzin like a bee.

speaking from a dusty box

stuck on top of a forbidden shelf

cos I dunno how else.

I’m tryna delve deep but forgot how to dive

How can i visualise? scenery foggy-

the establishment man with the glue gun got me xD

inner monk burning but at peace

Cos I refuse to believe

If the only way is the American dream

Interconnected; like the frog in science -let’s dissect it!

down to every floating atom spirit neighbouring your door

subcategories & divisions, it’s more!

than the rich and the poor -prism that’s been built

do we all feel like a performance monkey on stilts?

will my data be extracted & used to mould a robots personality some day?

well obviously not.

does the price of our lives all amount down to slave ways?

LABOUR YAY!

but morals & values it seems we’ve forgot.

sO If i don’t speak its cos I’m lost.

or maybe i’m enlightened-

Standing at the edge of the porch;

watching TRYING to understand how the flowers grow.

questioning eVERYTHING man made!

I’ve stepped out of the perfect picture frame

I can see the coal pollute the sky

I need to hop on the train-

but I’m comfortable

Sunset to sunrise statue standing still.

what’s the ingredients to life’s yucky pie?

I’ve exceeded mental lotteries.

Sanity n universal peace would be a trophy.

TIL then I’ll be crafting & shaping a solid pottery reality,

with a few pence, gum, and a bandana of belongings tied to stick.

thinking one day I’ll be laying the bricks

& building a kingdom of bliss.

guess for now I’ll use the intricate delicate materials in my tool box- that’s all I’ve got.

might have a long way- maybe worth a shot.

I observe, cruisin in the sky.

dunno why..

I jus look @ the hills.

Only time & history reveals.

no thanks mr men-

I don’t want your prescription pills.

there’s enough propaganda as it is.

I won’t jump on the merry go round-

til my core trusts & envisions we’ll actually feel safe!

I don’t want to take part in this faux fur, sweet nothings & a jack in a box punching blur, so called future.

oh and genuinely thanks quarantine-for once again, I can hear bird sounds!

guess this is me tryna speak out loud!!!...

it’s not thrilling

system time killing everything-

mother nature’s oxygen

everything is nauseating

clock ticking, I better start creating.

they should write a book on how to be free when the system set us up to believe that we’re tied to the cut down trees that gives them a currency of greed that they breed.

If blindfolded, I don’t wanna eat what they feed.

Whilst they profit of us -tell us smile and the bandits don’t wanna see us happy.

they’re too busy robbing all our hoods.

In exchange for the silence, they’ve granted us with a 21’st century fashion garment of a slave muzzle! labelled conform.

More delusion to add to the already desensitised norm.

zootonic diseases, welcome covid 19 to your plastic kiddy tea party!- apologies for questioning your motive!

Been handed too many hot plates with a post it note saying HOLD THIS.

we’ll be okay just hush.

Same Shan message told to every generational seed.

If we don’t TRY overpower-

we’ll never succeed!

it’s getting even more scary.

Artificial intelligence.

Societal negligence..

my canvas isn’t clear-dunno am I schizo ?

finger painting, cos it makes more sense.

struggling to blend.

borderline conspiracist pretending to be fine;

moving the goal post, hovering above the race line.

who made the chalk? who set the lanes?

I wanna know it all, maybe¿ far past insane.

I can fit all I need in the palm of my hand,

Maybe even less! cut a finger off not sure it’ll even add stress.

hi from personality Peter, even sober- always away with the fairies.

Pass the pixie dust, I’m in a rush

Found shelter in the comfort of pan physicists timer, no not the one on your phone!

Ring ring, skeptical! is it my demon or my mommy on the phone?

I’m stuck in the airspace of an infinite glass filled with beach particles trying to form myself standing up still attempting not to slip through the hands of my very own discovery.

time is running out & ill go when I go.

I’m sitting inside the fly trap -

stardust, chakras can you feel the sensation colors like a starburst.

deep emotion is a curse.

still entrapped in the sand dune of nothingness-

flipping a domino monopoly of solidified thoughts as I sway with the wind.

I’m the trapped sandbox in the playground & the slipping sand in my own hands.

Inhale chronic but I wanna enter the quiet realm of white noise

-color of a wife beater vest, calmer than the ease in ignorance of a red neck.

sadomasochistic, messes.

but oblivion, seems like less stress.

Unfortunately I can see, with all eyes

empathetic paralysis, gets me vexed.

Punching truth into the core of your chest!

It’s not funny, neither is the one on the receiving end..

My limbs are numb

& im done playing octopus alchemy.

I want minimalism & life can be simple,

Evil entities have made it hard.

Maybe I’ve got stars above my head like an old cartoon character.

But I can’t make it make sense, are they out to get me. worse all of us? Or have I bottled myself tryna re mesh the broken shards,

I feel glued to the floor cos there’s a pretty price to pay if you want more.

I see life through a different lense, maybe born downside up, Benjamin button I came out the back door-

Outside looking in, digesting confusion.

Is to be a product of environment a sin?

rummage through my messy brain.

personalities sardine packed in this tin

I’m the wizard of my mania

Scaring & attracting the black crows-

they’re my friends.

Sometimes still a cowardly lion

Roaring pain & true riddles at the wrenching wicked witch posse of the west.

will my voice ever be loud enough to shed light wit my words and grate the sweet zest

In to the cake i’m baking?

Probably not.

Got more thoughts than the autumn leaves collected by the garden rake. alone.

gathering & storing the pains of yesterday.

sometimes I stay in line

Other times in my head Im on my hands juggling out of time.

but I really don’t mind if I lose or win.

we all have a pace

I jus don’t want the 1% to win the race.

It’s unfair!

Humanity does anyone care ??

Half lady

half fairy

Good MOOrning-

from my anagrams.

no I’m not a cow.

twister fidget spinner brain in the flesh-

form of expression this time around lyrics.

feel I’m jus a silly rubix

& still mourning

I don’t like dairy

pass the oat milk.

Are you aware the industry are sabotaging our diets?

we want peace!

the powerful elite-

perceive & deceive

the scene they want us to be.

chuck the narcissistic psychopathic pie back in our face-

every time we almost found & addressed the Programme & Control man in the maze.

evil & extroverted- he said that the anarchists have to be the cause of riots.

working isn’t class. I said let’s switch roles- he said pass.

It’s piss! Who’s got the bomb & the guns?

Who got the land? off wit OUR heads 4 fun!

it’s pure scary.

Pharmaceutics handshake.

with the cooked up suppliers, also crooked wack liars.

I’d rather shot a gallon of bloody blubbery infused slaughter house milk

If it meant we didn’t use cocoons for silk.

why not add a drizzle of bleach to the concoction & maybe that’s a reach.

every time I guzzle fakeness, it taste peak.

I want real fruit, what next-

a seedless peach ???

what’s the difference between a weirdo & a freak?

layers & levels to the shit.

Magnifying tapping the window of society, I’ll be puffing green til I get to the land of Oz.

sponge soaked soaking up emotions

Suffocated by deduction of care in life

feel entrapped in this paradigm

what am I thinking ?

got the verbs & a cuppa tea

It’s mixed with torment & desire to be free.

I’d rather be awake than asleep

When I get too comfy I feel weak

Demons they reap

underneath

rip the seems as I bleed

Concrete

Solid

Emotions

Is all you’re getting

It’s all sad scenes in the imagery I’m setting

people need care we seem to be forgetting

why are we in debt wit

a posse of clowns

pay the price so we can get a frown

here’s some seratonin

quit ya moaning

life is all sound

aw yeh¿ if you’re not an over thinker!

product of environment- Sirius flickers

theyve done a ritual like it’s Wicca

now here’s your gold sticker..

for managing to co operate.

In this world fuelled off of evil n hate

waking ups a bloody disgrace

I am not amazed.

Man I love my fam n my friends

Just hate this part of my brain that feels the need to play pretend

sometimes I feel insane

but I’m calm

need to escape so I don’t do harm

Gold lioness in the sky by the sea

with puff the magic dragon

fire out my mouth, fuel helps me breathe

I will shine bright

Promise imma be alright

even tho I’m not sure why

I function like this

I wanna be myself

It’s just hard to find the comfortability

To feel happy and pretty

Lay me down on a bed of roses

Ring around sing about overdose emotions

Sorry dunno how to communicate

Heads in a constant debate

Should I go or should I stay

My head clashes

Burnin the next ciggy as my thoughts become ashes.

#LCZABIBU #deathwillonlybethebeginning

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kimkymury · 4 years

Text

Blue Rose Tears - Chapter 9

Hey everyone, another chapter of Pascal x Carl fanfic is here, I hope you like it!

I’d like to thanks @depressedoverdrawings for for reviewing the history and help fixing grammatical errors.

Warning: Just a little warning, some characters have distorted views about sexuality, and those views do not represent what I think in real life. This was written on purpose to suit the environment and the time that the story takes place, since at that time people were more closed minded.

The Portuguese Version of this story is avaliable on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/963625097-as-l%C3%A1grimas-da-rosa-azul-cap%C3%ADtulo-9

Under the cut!

Chapter 9

P.O.V Narrator

The boy who had been concentrated on the teacher's lecture now found himself exchanging messages with the friend next to him. Carl's every movement was made with care and apprehension, fearful that they'd be discovered. On the other hand, the red-haired boy didn't care so much about discretion. His indifference towards the classes was evident: every time he attended the class, he always counted the minutes to return to the laboratory. The dark-haired boy discreetly unfolded the paper he was given, preventing the act of unfolding it from making any noise and hiding it in one of the pages of the book. The almost illegible handwriting was one of the scientist's characteristics, and it took a little effort to understand what was written. Carl was already used to it, reading what was on the paper was not a problem.

Carl begins to read the note hidden inside the book:

"Latin truly is a dead language, they could teach us actually useful things, like Biology, ne in vobis? (Don't you agree?)"

The last part of the sentence was written in Latin. The redhead liked to make clear that the fact that he found the subject useless didn't mean he was ignorant of it. Complaints on his friend's part were common, Carl just didn't think he would expose his whining during class. Pascal looked at him as if waiting for an answer. The dark haired boy needed to think about what to write and return the paper without causing suspicion. The pencil slides over the surface of the paper quickly, as the writer struggled to make as little noise as possible. The redhead is pleased to receive the small piece of paper back, he opens it and gets ready to read and answer. Carl's careful and beautifully rounded handwriting carried the words the scientist had already expected.

"I know you prefer to study other things, but you need to learn Latin if you plan to graduate someday."

Carl's words were so predictable that Pascal had an answer ready, he just needed to know if it was the right time to make his proposal. The small piece of paper is passed again to the friend, who was eager to continue the conversation, despite being afraid of getting caught.

"We have yet another class after lunch, the teachers must be trying to destroy our brains, like this. I was thinking of going to the greenhouse to pick new species of flowers after noon. Would you like to join me?"

The religious boy repeatedly reread what was written, for fear of being mistaken. Had Pascal just invited him to go the greenhouse during class time? The friend's habit of failing on purpose was known to everyone, and no one was surprised when they didn't see him in class. But with Carl it was different, he was the complete opposite of Pascal, he could count on the fingers of one hand how many absences he had in an year. It would be risky, they could be caught, punished, warned and maybe even their families would know. His good nature and rigidly constructed morals screamed at him to refuse the invitation, the fear and emotion of being doing something wrong mixing together. But the desire to spend some time with the redhead proved greater than all that. Fervently hoping that they wouldn't be seen or discovered, the dark-haired boy internally asked for forgiveness for what he was about to do, feeling unimaginable guilt. But it was his curiosity won the control over his actions, not his guilt. The note is returned slowly. Carl could not believe what he had written, there was still time to change his mind, but he didn't.

Pascal opens the paper and smiles, satisfied with what he'd read. The opportunities to see his friend doing risky things were rare; he liked seeing him leave his comfort zone.

"As long as we don't get caught, I accept." - That small sentence was enough to end the message exchange. Now they had to calmly wait until the right time.

In a way, the scientist wasn't so bothered by how long Latin class was taking now, he seemed distracted, thinking about what was going to happen, with a simple, surreptitious smile on his face. The religious boy, on the other hand, turned his attention entirely to what he was learning. For him the hours seemed endless, as he felt a sickening mixture of anxiety and excitement at the same time. He'd never agreed to doing something so risky before. The truth is that Carl would have refused the invitation had it been made by anyone else, but with Pascal was different, he knew that he would have fun, as long he was with his friend. It was a time that deserved to be spent and a risk that was worth taking, he concluded. And while the religious boy was lost in his thoughts and feelings, the scientist's mind worked at full speed. He was extremely determined in what he did and felt, and didn't make the proposal to his friend without a proper reason behind it. He wanted to put his feelings to the test.

With his chin on one hand and a bored look that watched the professor read the passages in the book, Pascal remembered what it had been like to discover what he felt. It was a strange feeling, it wasn't like anything he'd read in his biology books. It was a genuine happiness, that seemed to have no particular cause. He was surprised, but he was not disappointed, after all, he knew he was liable to have feelings like anyone else. He just didn't expect those feelings to be for the person he least expected. Someone who was by his side all the time, someone who probably wouldn't feel the same way about him. Frustration was part of his life, but the frustration he felt now burned like impotence, it wassomething that even made him feel physical pain. Discreetly, the red-haired boy's gaze turned to the boy next to him; he carefully analyzed his friend, who was concentrated on what he read. The white skin had few imperfections, just a few slight marks, too subtle to be noticed. The hair was as dark as black ink, its texture was smooth, and it looked thin, soft, and easy to comb. The eyes, dark as the night sky, showed a permanent expression of sadness or worry, as if something was always troubling him.

Pascal might consider himself stupid for being enchanted by such common things, things he saw daily and for so long, and yet, no matter how much time passed or how close they were, Carl kept fascinating him. A slight sigh is released, the expression that seemed bored before, now seemed thoughtful. Every second until lunchtime was counted impatiently by both boys, who were surprised at their excitement over going flower-picking together.

After a few hours, the lunchtime bell rang, providing a great relief for all students. The way from the classroom to the cafeteria was walked quietly; Carl still wondered if it had been a good idea to accept the invitation, and whether he should have refused. But that thought changed shortly after they sat down to eat, as Serge was unaccompanied and sat next to Carl just like the night before. The pianist asked some questions about Carl's morning tardiness, but soon his curiosity was placated with some excuses. However, the other boys present, like Kurt and Neka, quickly took the opportunity to make all kinds of jokes possible with the situation.

"Professor Watts often complains that we are late for the first class of the day, next time I'll just tell him that even the Class Representative does it, so there's no reason why I shouldn't do it too." - The boy with curly red hair said, making everyone at the table laugh, even Carl.

It almost made him forget why he had been so excited for lunch, but the exchange of looks he had made with Pascal quickly reminded him. It was as if they agreed on the right time to act by exchanging looks. Conversation between friends flowed naturally, the dark-haired boy was so distracted that his thoughts about the gypsy boy, which had previously disturbed him, were forgotten for a few moments. The minutes passed and the number of students in the cafeteria decreased. The boys' dishes were progressively emptied as they became more apprehensive about how to leave without being caught. The older boy, who sat across from Carl, nodded discreetly, indicating that it was time to act.

The two young men stood up after making up some excuse for their friends who were still eating, afraid that their nervousness was evident in some way. Everything would have gone perfectly, were it not for Serge's intervention:

"Carl, Gilbert didn't come to class today, why don't we sit side by side in Latin class after lunch?" - The pianist asked before Carl could walk away, leaving him at a loss for an answer.

Pascal stopped walking after hearing this. He had his doubts whether Carl would really continue with the plan after receiving Serge's invitation. He wasn't a hypocrite, he knew it was difficult for his friend to deal with unrequited feelings. Yet, he couldn't help but feel frustrated at the gypsy boy's attitude. He knew that feeling wasn't reasonable, it wasn't as if Serge had asked that just to annoy him, he didn't even have any idea about what was going on with Carl. The scientist patiently waited for the religious boy to respond. Carl's conscience was split in two. It was a fact that spending time with Serge was all he wanted, especially now that the blond boy wasn't near. But a part of him, the part that controlled his decisions, made him think that perhaps the time he could spend with Pascal, as risky as it could be, would be more worthwhile.

"I'm sorry, but I promised Pascal that I would help him in today's class" - The dark-haired boy said, trying to look as convincing as possible, feeling bad about lying and refusing his friend's invitation.

It was difficult to refuse the request of a person he so yearned to be close to, but in a strange way, he found himself wanting to be with Pascal even more than with Serge. The redhead understood him like nobody else, he could be who he really was with him, he felt understood and safe. Pascal, on the other hand, was somewhat jealous of the way Serge was deified by Carl. But the scientist made an effort to be rational, and he would not let a feeling or a whim impair his relationship with his friend.

With a gesture of understanding, Serge made no further inquiries and soon went back to talking with the other boys. The two friends then took the opportunity and left the dining hall, which was already getting empty as the students finished their lunch. In the corridors were some teachers and other school staff, who guaranteed the supervision of the students, so that they didn't escape the school or avoided attending classes. Some boys used the last minutes of lunch to talk or rest outdoors, at the small courtyard in the center of Lacombrade.

A feeling of nervousness came over Carl. He walked calmly beside his friend, who seemed to be concetrated on his own thoughts. It was practically impossible to get out without being caught, but the red-haired boy was already an adept truant, and so had a plan already orchestrated in his mind.

"There is no way to leave without being seen! What are we going to do now?" - The dark haired boy asked in a low voice, doubting the possibility of his friend having an answer.

"At exactly five to one, Professor Watts crosses to the other corridor, leaving free passage to a small room used to store materials and other useless things. There's a small window that gives access to the outside. After leaving throught it, we simply follow the path to the greenhouse. " - The redhead replied as if describing an everyday act, which it really was, to him.

While he was somewhat impressed wish his friend's experience in truancy, the dark-haired boy felt the need to reprimand him for taking such risky and immoral actions, but he knew that now was not the ideal time for that. And even if it was, Pascal would not hear his sermons; he was used to his routine of going to look for flowers to pick, and would have no intention of abandoning it. The two friends waited (one of them anxiously) for the moment when the professor would leave his post and the passage would be free. The scientist as naturally, as if nothing was amiss, while his religious friend watched the surroundings in fear of being caught. There was nobody else in that part of the school, it was a seldom frequented place, which relaxed their worries over being watched.

However, it would have surprised them to know that there was one person who watched the scene intently. A young boy who also carried the surname Messier, saw his brother accompanied by the redhead, and was surprised by what he saw.

In a deeper part of his mind, he had already imagined the scientist's possible intentions, and noticed that he had some sort of strong affection for Carl. Sebastian did not imagine that his brother would go as far as breaking a Lacombrade rule however, rules that he defended at any cost, just to be able to hang out with Pascal. He let out a tiny sigh and started walking in the opposite direction. Sometimes, it seemed that they weren't even brothers, so different they were.

After the short journey was made without raising suspicion, they approached the old wooden door. It was not well cared for like the other school doors, and it seemed to not having been changed in a long time. Carl vaguely remembered this room. He hadn't had many opportunities to enter it, but he knew it was always locked and could only be opened with a key that only the school staff had access to.

"We don't have the key, how are we going to open it?" - The religious boy asked while turning the knob and failing to open the door, wondering if his friend had any solution to this problem.

From inside one of the pockets, the red-haired boy took out a small key that he used to unlock the door, prompting Carl to ask where he got it from. He did not believe that his friend would be able to steal something just for his own benefit. Pascal had many defects, but dishonesty was not one of them.

"This type of doorknob is an old model, similar to those in my house. I just took a key of mine and filed it in a similar shape until I managed to open it." - The redhead said just before opening the door.

Really, he might not look like it, but he was a real genius. An eccentric and even rebellious genius, but one who possessed a greater intelligence than most usually expected. He went in first and waited for his friend, who was still standing at the door, hesitating. The dark-haired boy looked around before entering, asking God's forgiveness for doing something wrong, letting guilt consume him before proceeding. Carl had gone delinquent. He wasn't proud of it, but something was telling him to continue. Maybe it was the strong desire to forget about his problems and get a little distraction, or to just enjoy the company of his best friend, which was comforting. Their friendship was inexplicable, unshakable, they understood each other better than anyone. Pascal didn't show it much, but he was extremely happy that Carl had accompanied him. It meant a lot to him, it meant that the dark-haired boy liked his company.

The scientist's feelings, which were already strong, had intensified in recent days. He knew that he was not reciprocated, that Carl's heart was already broken and he would not surrender easily, but he was satisfied with only his presence.

I loved you from the beginning, Since I saw you, you have won a special place in my heart. I don't know what makes me love you so much, it's irrational, it's against logic. It's like breaking the laws of physics, it hurts me to see you so close, And to know you are so far away. If numbers could describe us, we would be the Riemann Hypothesis*.

Frustrations were part of Pascal Biquet's life. He had already become so used to them that he saw no problem in having one more in his collection.

* Considered one of the most difficult mathematical problems of all time, this equation has never been solved and there is a prize for those who can solve it.

Continued in Next Chapter

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