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kindredhearts13 · 2 years

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Dissecting the Cleaning Lady, Episode 1x07 “Our Father, Who Art in Vegas”

Alright, it is finally time to break down this episode that has been occupying FAR TOO MUCH of my mind these past few days. Based off of my notes (and yes, I took notes- I’m that invested), this is going to be a long one. Strap in.

GARRETT

Okay, it is absolutely no secret that I DO NOT like Garrett. His entire being annoys me, BUT I have to say that I think this was his strongest episode. Still not a fan, but I felt like I know and understand more about him than I have this entire season now- so, I actually have an interest to know what is going to happen to him now. Let me explain:

Up until this point, I felt like we were supposed to empathize with Garrett due to his family issues- sympathize at the very least. But, his enormous ego and tendency for utter ignorance has made that a very tall order that- for me- has yet to be fulfilled. This episode, I felt like I got him; as in, I felt like I understood why he is the way he is. Now, don’t get me wrong, I think Oliver Hudson is doing a great job playing this character- annoying as he is; but I truly think the real diamond in the rough of Garrett’s character is Liza Weil’s portrayal of Agent Russo. Liza is a phenomenal actress that has found a way to anchor every character she’s given and somehow make them feel more authentic than they may even be written to be. (Case and point, in How to Get Away with Murder she was cast opposite AMAZING actors and tended to steal the scene from all of them; EXCEPT Viola Davis because literally no one, not even Meryl Streep, could ever.) Agent Russo seems to be such a badass woman with a strong sense of self and a solid moral compass. When Garrett sent Thony, Fiona, and Gabby to the detention center, she wasn’t just angry because he did it without going through the proper channels, but she was upset because he was in the wrong. He unnecessarily put these women at risk to try and prove something; and all he proved was how incompetent he is.

The use of her character to help bolster his tells me we’re going to have some questions answered because of her. She sees the good in him, even when we don’t. In a way, their relationship mirrors Thony and Arman, except the woman has the power. I am curious if they’ll take them down the romantic route and have Garrett’s obsession with Arman and Thony cause issues with them- how that will all play out. No idea, but I can’t imagine getting someone as capable as Liza on the show and wasting her talent. So, I am officially curious to see what they do with her (and by way, Garrett, Thony, and Arman).

My main question where Garrett’s concerned is quite simple: Why is he so obsessed with Arman? Arman is a whole ass meal, but Garrett isn’t fixated on him for that reason; so, I just need more clarity. There is absolutely no way they’ve done all of this research and don’t know that Hayak is the head of this whole organization; and while I understand wanting to get to the person that could take Hayak down and all that he’s connected to with insider info, it feels weird to me that Garrett barely mentions him, he only focuses on ONE person and people connected to Arman.

NADIA

I LOVE Nadia. I want to know so much more about her than we do, but she makes the most of every single scene that she’s in. The show of strength amongst female characters in this show is absolutely delicious and something that I take such pride in as a female viewer. Seeing women depicted as complex, flawed, vulnerable, strong and multi-faceted is so beautiful, and I love getting a new dose of that with these women each week.

Something that truly struck me this episode, more than any other time, is how absolutely terrified she is. Not of losing Arman, not even of Hayak to a certain extent. Nadia is genuinely terrified of being meaningless, powerless. Her use of the word “common” was so striking because she was directly referring to Thony and her life in that way. Whatever Nadia has been through, and it appears to have been a lot, it clearly took everything she had to get to where she is. I think that Thony being “common” is more of a threat of Nadia ending up that way, more of a threat of her losing her beloved life, than anything else- even than losing Arman, her husband.

Something that really strikes me about Nadia is her relationship with Arman. It’s weird to say, but they remind me of siblings more than a married couple at times. They seem so intensely not intimate with each other in the way you would expect them to be, and the way they speak to each other- mainly Nadia to Arman- is quite spiteful, when you think about it.

“Did you really think throwing some money at a sick little boy makes you a good man?”

For the second time, we watched Nadia cut Arman down with her words. Belittle him, emasculate him, and then walk away with her head held high after doing it. She knows what to say to hurt him, because I think that deep down she’s always known that Arman’s moral compass didn’t match hers exactly. He was desperate too, but not as much as she. I would argue that’s why hearing Thony say, “You’re not the man I thought you were,” cut so deeply. He’s used to hearing how horrid, less than he is. He craves those “here’s a drawing my kid made of you because you’re his hero” moments that he just doesn’t have. Or, at least, didn’t before Thony.

We already know that Arman’s greatest struggle is his conscious and sense of self. He so badly wants to be what he believes is a good man, and because Thony is the best thing in his life, he views what she sees as good to be just that, good. Arman hasn’t yet learned to accept and love himself as he is, so he so desperately wants someone- particularly the person who woke up the humanity he’s been hiding away- to see him as a good person, “a good man.” I would dare to guess that Arman’s idea of a good man has a lot to do with his father. He spoke about Hayak in terms of strength and power, but when he spoke of his family, it was with a sense of reference and remorse. Back when he was good. With good people.

Nadia, his wife, sees him as a monster- perhaps not in the way he sees himself, but still not in the way he wants to be seen. The interesting thing here is that I don’t think Arman being a monster is necessarily a bad thing to Nadia. He’s a titan of his industry, a monster when he needs to be, and they’ve been wildly successful because of it. To her, they are who they are, and there’s no point of pretending any differently. But for him, he wants more, he wants to be more. And that truly terrifies Nadia.

I’d like to close this section out by pointing out how incredibly lackluster their intimacy seems. Arman had to convince himself to kiss Nadia, Nadia. That tells you something.

MARCO

Okay, I have to admit, I don’t hate Marco- I don’t necessarily like him, but I don’t hate him. I think he’s a selfish asshole who deserves to get punched; but I actually have sympathy for him because he’s just pathetic. Marco makes me sad more than anything, because he is so lost. He is literally trying so hard to pretend that he isn’t sinking when he 100% is. The saddest thing is that he probably wouldn’t have lost Thony, even before she came to Vegas, had he just admitted that to himself (and to her).

Thony gave up her career, so much of her life, trying to save Luca and she ended up having to keep every single thing together for her family. She had to carry the weight of the vastly unbalanced emotional (and potentially more) responsibilities of her marriage, keep hope alive for her son so that he wouldn’t give up and could have as normal of a life as possible, and try and keep herself standing on two feet and breathing and moving all at the same time. I can’t even imagine how incredibly exhausted Thony is. The saddest thing about their marriage is that he is actively choosing to ignore how unhappy she is, instead of rising up to be what she’s needed for a long time now.

Two of the biggest things I noticed about them are:

1. Marco gaslights her

2. Thony is so uncomfortable doing anything remotely intimate with him that you can feel it through the screen.

Let’s further analyze this.

It has bothered, and not gone unnoticed by, me that the only thing consistent about Marco is his ability to make literally every single thing about him. Before arriving in Vegas, he turned every conversation about Luca’s health into a conversation about his needs. Luca getting sicker suddenly became Marco needing to see his son, not Marco trying to help find a solution. Luca needing a liver transplant turned into Marco needing Thony to send him money, not him doing what Thony would’ve done and figuring out how we can work himself to the bone to get there. He talks to Fiona about being away from his family for almost a year and not being able to do anything, but I can’t help but question why he wasn’t able to do anything? Even if money carries more from the US to the Philippines, for what reason was he UNABLE to do even the bare minimum in supporting his family? EMOTIONALLY SUPPORTING HIS WIFE? Marco is the king of victim mentality and it’s extremely infuriating.

He also has the profound ability to manipulate her into feeling badly about the choices that he’s made. She asks him, a gambling addict, a valid question about how he was able to gather money so quickly. And he turns it into her being unsupportive, judgmental (a throwback to Arman calling her sanctimonious, something that hit a nerve for her during that argument).

“Why do you always have to assume the worst of me?”

But absolutely no answer was ever given to her question, yet he expected her to answer every single one of his.

Let’s point out the obvious, neither Thony nor Arman wear their wedding rings but both of their spouses do. I feel like this is clear foreshadowing (to me, I think we’ll see Arman and Thony getting married at some point before the series, as a whole, ends and a they’ll work with the cinematographer to have a very artistic shot of their hands with rings on them- but that’s in the future).

The show has done a good job at pointing out and hinting at the issues within the marriage between Thony and Marco, and it honestly came at no surprise that they weren’t sharing a bed- save for a few times to be intimate, as suggested by Marco. What strikes me here is just how so incredibly uncomfortable this entire exchange makes Thony. I felt uneasy watching her on screen and was afraid that she’d force herself into something that she didn’t want to do because of her guilt, but I am so glad that she didn’t. Kudos to the show for that.

At the top of that first bathroom scene with them, Marco says how much he’s missed Thony. Her response is, “We missed you, too,” not “I missed you, too.” Then, he tries to kiss her and become intimate, and she is just so visibly uncomfortable. She tries to respectfully move away from him, and he even as he tries to convince her that things weren’t as bad as she thinks; she stands her ground. I truly believe that Thony is trying to hold onto this marriage mainly for Luca- she grew up without her Dad and doesn’t want to do anything that could potentially lessen Luca’s time with his Dad (unless absolutely necessary, like, moving to save his life). There’s also basis for an argument that Thony is afraid of failure. She doesn’t want to fail Luca, she doesn’t want to fail Fiona, she doesn’t want to fail Arman, she doesn’t want to fail her marriage and I think her strive for perfection ties into her having to rely on herself more than anyone else. Outside of Fiona, and recently in her life Arman, who has she been able to rely on besides herself?

I feel for her so much because this woman is so deserving of love and support, but she’s with someone that is more in love with the idea of her than the actual woman that she is. The difference in how Marco and Arman treat Thony is astounding. Arguably, Marco should know her more. She’s his wife. She’s his sister’s best friend. And they have a son together. But we saw in just one scene how little he actually knows her and can read her; or, one could say how little he cares about how she feels. He speaks to her with a hint of condescension. As if she’s too naive to realize what’s happening around her and undeserving of being trusted to make her own decisions and take care of herself. I understand the need for open, continuous communication in a marriage but Marco doesn’t actually listen to Thony. He is rightfully upset that she kept any word of Arman from him, but he is wrong to completely shut down the lines of communication and start speaking to her as if she hasn’t been keeping their son alive all this time. He doesn’t offer her the respect that she deserves and consistently puts his feelings and needs ahead of her own.

Showing up to her job unannounced and trying to force her out of the way to get to her boss? Gaslighting her every time she asks him a valid question? Horrid. But outside of all of this, and stealing from his own son- which is just next level buffoonery- he acts as if it is her fault that he hasn’t stepped up as a husband and father; as if Thony being herself- strong, independent, resourceful- somehow emasculates him. He takes zero responsibility for the dissolving of his marriage, but is fully ready to place all blame on her.

Something that I did appreciate from Marco was seeing him with Fiona. They have a good relationship and it was really sweet to catch those little moments of them just joking around and being family. It gives glimpses into the man that Thony probably fell in love with- the sad reality, however, is that he wasn’t able to be that person for her as a partner.

Sidenote: I am curious about Fiona’s reaction to Thony potentially being with Arman. She knows something is going on, but she also seemed far more willing to understand than to judge. I don’t know if she knows the extent of the issues with Thony and her brother, but she defintely knows that something is up with them and has been for a while.

ARMAN & THONY

Okay, this post is about to get longer- so sorry but shout out to you if you’re still here. Time to dig into this brilliant pair.

So, I already touched on the juxtaposition of how Marco and Arman treat Thony, but I’d like to expand by breaking down how Arman’s treatment of Thony so incredibly differs from her husband.

Arman supports Thony. At this point, we have seen Arman literally and figuratively support Thony. He doesn’t know every single thing about her, every single thing going through her mind- but he knows that she’s hurting and needs support and that’s enough for him. He’s just there, even when she doesn’t ask him to be. I’ve spoken about how emotionally intelligent Arman is, but it is not lost on me how much he pays attention to her.

While Marco didn’t seen to quite get it when Thony rejected being intimate with him- he picked up on it somewhat- but even so. Arman is incredibly aware of what is going on with her based off of her body language. He knows what she looks like when happy or stressed or sad. And he knows because he cares enough to pay attention and always check in with her to confirm his suspicions, and see how he can then support her should anything be wrong. Also, a point should be made that Arman knew how to evoke an erotic response out of Thony (the moaning) the very first time they had any physical intimacy but her husband clearly isn’t quite that in tune with her.

Arman respects Thony. As much as he loves being there for her and finding a solution to her problems, he respects her independence and how completely capable she is. He asks her permission before just doing something, trying to understand her boundaries. I imagine that the closer they get, the more he’ll feel comfortable making decisions without always checking in first- but these would always be rooted in his conversations with her, knowing how she feels about something, and making sure that it aligns with her level of comfort. He isn’t emasculated by her strength and self-sufficiency, he’s enthralled with it; and it makes her vulnerability all the more meaningful to him, in turn. And even when upset and cross with her, he doesn’t condescend her. He has threatened back when they first met, but he’s gone out of his way to be tender with her once he’s realized that he didn’t treat her with the level of respect initially deserved.

An example of this would be their discussion in the wine cellar (we will touch on this again in a moment); he starts to lose his temper when he hears about the FBI but quickly adjusts his tone when speaking to her, as to not disrespect her or make her feel blamed for something that was not her fault. He’s more measured than he’s ever been when talking to her while upset. That tells us that, one, he is actively making an effort to work on his outbursts; but also that something truly shifted for him from that kiss. Besides realizing that he’s falling (has fallen) in love with Thony, he realized that he’s revealed the parts of himself that he views as beastly or monster-like and she’s still here. She still cares about him. And she still thinks he’s a good man.

Okay, let’s address the use of “we” vs “I.” It clearly cut Arman to the core when Thony said “I’ll find another way,” after Arman telling her “We’ll find another way” before their kiss. But, in her defense, I don’t think she met it that way- as in to hurt him. I think there’s a two-fold reason for this response: for one, it was a knee-jerk reaction. We’ve already discussed how she has to do everything herself, she’s used to having doors closed in her face and trying to find a solution. It slipped out of her so naturally like it’s something she says all of the time.

Now, here’s the second part to it: she and Arman looked at each other for a long time, an unspoken conversation happening. I truly believe that she just let it hang in the air, in part, because Arman pretty much told her he was tapping out of her life the last time they spoke. He was in his feelings, thinking he was doing this noble thing but also being the one to “cut the chord first;” when in reality he went from telling her that they were in all of this together to saying that he’s already thinking ahead to his life without her. He didn’t mean it, but he said it. And she can only do so much with that.

Okay, to this post is already so long, so I am going to make a separate post to discuss the duality and dichotomy of Arman and Nadia vs Thony and Marco, take a look at that Marco vs Arman stand-off, and where I think the relationship between Arman and Thony stands/is heading. There’s some more I would like to unpack, but I think that deserves its own post ahead of Monday.

#the cleaning lady #the cleaning lady 1x07 #thony de la rosa #thony x arman #arman morales #luca de la rosa #Marco de la Rosa #fiona de la rosa #nadia morales #garrett miller #agent miller #armany

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thegingeralien · 3 years

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Thought I might share my “doing homework with adhd” tips in case the might help even just one person (because that would make me feel happy).

Who am I to be giving you advice? Good point! I am still terrible at studying and I’m 26 and at University for the millionth time. But I have studied A LOT in my 22 years of schooling with varying degrees of success.

I see a lot of people, especially teenagers or first year university/college students, with ADHD asking for tips on how to study. But if you do a google search most of the websites and advice that comes up can be extremely ableist. So I hope I can help someone!

TIPS TO HELP YOU STUDY WHEN YOU HAVE AN ADHD GREMLIN BRAIN!:

1. Chewing gum!

- This might come across as a weird one, but it has actually really helped me. I use it as a form of stimming to help keep me focused and concentrating. Other forms of stimming can potentially end up being more of a distraction when you actually need to be reading or writing - but they can help if you just need to be listening. Try not to get a bubble gum or fun flavoured one though - as they can end up making your mouth feel dry, lose flavour quickly, and just give your brain way too many sensory things to become distracted with.

2. Buying colour coded stationary!

- New stationary can make me really excited to start studying, but that excitement never lasts long and the act of buying stationary can sometimes become it’s own hobby. That’s not what we are going for here. I really recommend, especially if you are a visual learner like me, to buy colour coded stationary. This means removable page markers, different coloured post it notes, highlighters, sometimes even pens. This way if your mind jumps from one topic to the other, it doesn’t matter. Go with the flow. Forcing your ADHD gremlin brain to focus can be extremely counter intuitive. So pick a colour for each topic, and stick to that system to find organisation among your own chaos!

3. Buy a really cheap, boring year diary with hardly any writing inside.

- Not sure if your school/university has their own diary but they can be perfect for what I am on about. Generally you can find them for really cheap, soft cover, no writing or designs within the dates. Just dates, days, weeks and lines where you can write your homework. This helped me a lot in High School. I wish I had kept doing it in University, but I am good with giving advice, and not so much with taking it. I used to decorate the outside of it however I wanted. Some years I would redecorate the same diary every semester. In the public holidays or holiday days I would colour those lines in with different highlighters to make it look like a rainbow. But every assignment due date, homework, draft, rewrite, form I had to bring back, library book due date, school activity days, ANYTHING to do with school I would write in there with reminds and check lists. Important due dates would be highlighted, general homework and daily to do lists t(o help me not leave my assignments to the last minute) would have a tick box beside them (because ticking tick boxes is free dopamine). Try to not put birthdays or fun things in it. This is a small way to stay on track so it helps you actually stay on track with the big things when you’re home.

4. Big whiteboards stuck on the wall where you can’t avoid it.

- This is not something I had in school, but I so wish I did. I have been using this recently to keep on top of house work (as maintaining your own house is tiring) and my small business or other things I really can’t avoid. If I physically write it down (not just in my phone) it psychologically does help you commit it to memory. Again, physically putting a line through a task you just completed is a hecking great rush of dopamine. But the biggest reason I love my white board, I can’t ignore it. It is stuck to the wall and is never out of sight, out of mind. I can’t put my phone or diary down and then refuse to look at it until I’m past the due date. Again, I’m not a perfect person, there are days where I don’t do anything I have written on the white board. But the great thing is, I don’t have to continuously feel like I failure, as I can wipe it all off the next morning or week and start fresh. I also put important things I have to remember that I’m doing during the week so I don’t forget them.

5. Icky Medication.

- I know not everyone wants to be on medication, and I understand. I am not forcing you to. No matter what your opinions are, you lovely gremlin who is still reading this post, regarding medication, you are valid and I respect you. My personal experience with medication has not been the best. I have been misdiagnosed for a severe chunk of my academic life which has seen me trying to focus and maintain school work under some even worse states then I am unmedicated! However, since receiving my diagnosis and finding the right ADHD medication for me, I have the ability to get so much work done without having to unnecessarily struggle. It’s unfortunately not magic, it will not turn me into a robot that makes me do work and turn out incredible, noble peace prize winning assignments (as much as I wish that were possible). I still have the ability to be a lump, doom scrolling through tumblr, forgetting to eat, and ignoring responsibilities. But it really helps me when I sit down and start that thing that isn’t fun. Yesterday it helped me hyperfocus on cleaning my office which was a terrifying room to be in. So it’s pretty close to magic in my opinion!

6. Accessing Disability Support at your place of learning.

- Not all of you taking the time to read this will have either a) an offical diagnosis or b) a good disability support available to you wherever you are completing your studies. And that is okay. This dot point just won’t be for you right now. But keep it in mind for a time when it might apply to you, as it’s something I never thought I would need, but will never take for granted ever again.

- If you have an offical diagnosis and Disability Support, make an appointment with the disability support adviser. DO IT NOW! Get your psychiatrist to write a diagnosis letter outlining that you have <enter superpower that makes you hilarious here> and that you are receiving <enter x,y,z treatment here> and that you would benefit from receiving <enter what you have always wished you had on the days you can’t make your ADHD gremlin brain do the thing here>. Now these benefits can be, but not limit to: automatic extensions on ALL assignments, extra time on exams, extra breaks to walk around while taking exams, special consideration when marking assignments, my university allows me to take exams in a separate room with only the other students in my subject who also have disability support (occasionally I have taken an exam alone with only a tutor present) so I don’t get distracted, permission to take fidget items into class or exam (I have the option to wear headphones, as long as I can display that they are not connected to anything). Maybe you can come up with some great ones for you with your disability advisor or your psychiatrist.

- The disability advisor will often go through your course outline with you at the start of each semester or year. This is annoying and a great time for disassociating, but can be useful in hindsight because you are made aware of everything that will come up during your class so you are not surprised. Because lets be honest, it is unlikely you are going to look at the course calendar too often.

- Side Note: I make an appointment every semester with my disability support officer for my area of study to make sure I have my special considerations for the year. Now I may go through the whole year without ever using my considerations. However, the fact that I know they are there takes an insane amount of pressure off of myself. If I’m having an insanely screwy loony tune mental health moment, I can email my coordinator my disability plan and say I need an extension due to personal reasons, and WHOOP, there it izzzzz.

7. Dedicated one thing or a few things that have nothing to do with food/alcohol/other substances to reward yourself with for doing the thing!

- This may not work for everyone. It doesn’t always work for me. I used to reward myself with food, but that only reinforced my stimming with overeating and my already bad relationship with food. And I feel as though that would be the same with any other substance that can be linked with addiction. (Addiction is a tough word, cause what aren’t I addicted to, I have ADHD, but hopefully you get what I mean!).

-Now, boring try and not choose this aside, lets think of somethings that work really well as rewards!

- My partner likes to come give me a kiss and a hug when ever they have written and reread a paragraph, you might buy a book when you get a really good mark, you might want to go make a cup of tea and watch an episode of your hyperfixation after studying for <enter a good period of time here>, you might allow yourself to partake in an activity you usually do while procrastinating (but at least this time you know you aren’t putting something off), talk to someone who you know will tell you they are proud of you as they understand the mental struggle you go through to concentrate (if you can’t think of anyone, it is 110% okay if that person are the amazing people on tumblr or the adhd tumblr chats. We will freaking pop a bottle of champagne for you cause we get it!).

- Try and make what ever you choose be something in a different room or away from your working space. Getting out can really calm you down.

8. Don’t be afraid to ask for assistance.

- This is true for anything, but I don’t mean just asking your teacher to give you extra help understanding the task and marking rubric. Many people online, tutors, librarians at your school, past or present students offer assistance rereading and making small edits (they won’t make it magical unfortunately) to your assignments. If you are like me and once you have written or completed the dreaded thing, you can not imagine or force your gremlin brain reread or edit the thing. So it can help to just delegate this to someone else, who hasn’t read it before, so they won’t disassociate or skim read it. They will often notice things you never would have even if you were neurotypical as that is just what happens when you have been working on something for so long.

9. Repetitive music.

- It generally helps if this has no lyrics. Lo-fi is amazing. Classical is alright too if it works for you, but both my partner and I agree that it can really assist you to keep up pace and focus when the beat is a high and repetitive (almost meditative) tempo.

10. Limit your screen space.

- This is a tip completely from my partner @dr-adhd who also has ADHD, is an avid PC gamer and is consistently in a battle with their gremlin brain to focus on completing their PhD. They have discovered that it really helps them to limit their screen space - simply put, work on one screen only. They have done more work more easily when they have their one screen on their laptop to focus on. Whereas their office has multiple screens so they could be playing runescape, watching YouTube, listening to lo-fi and doing work - which never worked (shocking right hahaha).

11. At the risk of sounding like a Mum... Put your phone and other electronics other than the assignment necessary one, away.

- I am a Mum, but to a fluffy puppy dog, so I hate to sound like my Mum when I was in high school, but she was right. Mobiles are the single easiest and biggest distraction in ADHD history. I often, even at coffee shops, have to turn my phone over so that I am not consistently looking at it every time the screen lights up to say the pizza place has sent me a coupon, or a carpet place that has been having a sale since I was born is... still having a sale, or a friend from school wants you to watch this TikTok. Even though you might not want to ignore your friends, because people pleasing, difficulting making/keeping friends and RSD are hecking real things, but they can all wait. Trust me, none of them are urgent. That TikTok will still be funny in an hour or two. And I’m probably completely right when I say that whomever just messaged you, never replies as quickly as you want them too. So I doubt they are going to think twice if you are MIA to finish your thing.

My partner or I might add to this later, but at the moment I already know that I probably wouldn’t read this wall of words if I was the one reading it, so if you are still with me, THANK YOU and I really hope I might have helped you. Sorry for the mound of words, but maybe you can reblog, screen shot, or save this and read a dot point at a time or refer to it when you need. Don’t be afraid to ask questions, I promise what ever it is, I’ve asked the same thing once in my life or something MUCH stupider.

#ADHD #Study tips #actually adhd #autistic #adhd #neurodivergent #adhd study tips #advice #adhdstudytips #studying with adhd #adhd advice #ask adhd #adhd mood #adhd life #adhd vibe #disability support #uni support #school advice

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ushittyoldman · 3 years

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nobody’s fault but mine (pt. 2)

Levi wouldn’t really be Levi if he knew how to handle his intense feelings for you.

pairing. levi x fem!reader AND a little bit of jean x fem!reader (b/c once again i am a slut 4 jean too)

warnings. some fluff, language (b prepared for a lot of the f-bomb)

a/n. hi sorry 4 the long wait, life is a little hectic rn (it’s snowing n our power has been going out on n off for the past few days lmfao also school b lowkey kicking my ass) BUT i wanted 2 say thank u so so much 4 all ur feedback to part 1 it was so so so unexpected n sweet n flattering i literally still can’t wrap my head around it. i would rly appreciate some feedback 2 this one too since this is A LOT more levi n i actually adored writing him but i would luv 2 know what u guys think of my characterization of him (im a little nervy) but yes feedback is encouraged! this is kinda long but a lot happens so i rly hope u guys appreciate this n enjoy it bc it took me so long 2 write n rewrite it heheheh (side note 4 the sake of age n everything, all the 104th cadets r actually 18+ including our cute lil reader) also! pls continue 2 request more levi ok that’s it 4 now enjoy!

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

“Jean!”

The hushed voices stirred you out of the pleasant state of unconsciousness you had been in. A sharp pain shot through your head as you slowly opened your eyes, blinking quickly to adjust to the bright light. You flexed your fingers subtly as an attempt to gain awareness of yourself and your surroundings. Once you were comfortable, you slowly turned your head to your right and saw a scene you had grown painfully familiar with– Jean arguing with someone. The victim of the week was Armin, and you almost wanted to laugh at the quick back-and-forth between the two.

“Your bedside manner… sucks,” you managed to mumble. You cringed at the uncharacteristic hoarseness of your voice.

“There she is!” Jean exclaimed, shooting a victorious smirk at Armin, before fondly looking down at you, as he moved closer to your side.

You heard multiple gasps of your name, and you quickly turned your head to your left, before regretting it due to the sharp pang that followed in your head. Nevertheless, you mustered up as bright a smile as you could, looking at your friends who had all taken various positions throughout the room. Eren was the first to your bed, embracing you tightly.

“That was scary,” he softly mumbled your name, before pulling back, “Don’t do that again.”

The concern on his face startled you momentarily, and you couldn’t help but avert your eyes. You blinked quickly before looking up and shyly smiling at Eren.

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

You then looked up at your fellow cadets, who stood surrounding your small bed in the infirmary. Your love for these people sat heavily in your chest, and you beamed up at them, before you realized you were in the infirmary.

“What happened?” you genuinely asked, your husky voice taking you by surprise again.

“Oh, I’ll tell you what happened!” Jean scowled, crossing his arms in anger, “That little bastard—”

“Jean, you can’t say that about the Captain!” Sasha chided, looking sideways in fear as if to emphasize her point.

“Captain, my ass!”

You attempted to stifle your giggling, yet your mood significantly dropped upon remembering Levi’s treatment towards you this past month. You tried to conceal your obviously bothered expression, but you felt a hand softly ruffle your hair. You looked up and smiled at Reiner.

“Don’t sweat it, kiddo, I’m sure he’ll tone down the punishments after this,” he reassured, obviously mistaking your dejection over your unreciprocated feelings for Levi for something else.

Appreciating the gesture, you continued to smile up at him while nodding softly. Reiner had a comforting presence, and you felt your mood brighten slightly.

“Fingers crossed,” you deadpanned, earning a soft laugh from Bertholdt, who had taken a seat at the foot of your bed.

Jean’s relentless bashing of the Captain continued, as Sasha, Connie, and Armin attempted to calm him down, warning him about the consequences they’d all have to face if word got back to Levi. Eren gritted his teeth in irritation, as he glared up at Jean, threatening to “knock him out if he didn’t shut up,” while Mikasa had silently moved around the chaos to rest her calloused hand on your own, silently squeezing as a gesture of comfort. You squeezed back.

“Look, all I’m saying is he obviously has it out for her. She’s a better soldier than all of us– even you, titan boy— and it’s still not good enough? I call bullshit!”

“I think he’s just trying to be a good teacher, I’m sure there’s a lot I can still improve on,” you justified, and all eyes turned to you.

“There’s not,” Mikasa bluntly stated, leaving no room for argument.

Your friends all agreed, and you scrunched your nose playfully to conceal the warmth that had spread throughout your body at their praise. You worked hard to get where you were– there was a satisfaction in knowing that all of your effort wasn’t going unacknowledged.

“Jean-boy’s right—”

“Bastard!”

“—Captain Levi has been unnecessarily cruel to her, and we’ve all noticed it!” Eren’s fists clenched in anger as he ignored Jean’s yelling.

“But the Captain isn’t the type to hold grudges or act impulsively, so I think there’s something deeper to it,” Armin reasoned, apologetically glancing at you in case his words offended you.

You nodded softly, not wanting to worsen your headache; however, it didn’t really matter when Jean’s painfully loud voice retaliated almost immediately.

“He overworked her to the point of her passing out from exhaustion and severe dehydration!” His eyebrows furrowed in anger, and his sandy brown hair bounced with his every move.

You winced from the pain in your head, and the movement didn’t go unnoticed by Reiner, who glanced at you from where he stood.

“Jean— inside voice, yeah?” Reiner softly spoke, subtly tilting his head down towards you. Jean’s gaze softened and concern replaced the anger on his contorted features, as he apologized to you.

“Yeah, seriously, what are you getting so worked up for?” Connie innocently asked, before a knowing look crossed his features. He turned to his partner-in-crime, and the two donned shit-eating grins as they turned back to Jean.

“Right, that’s why.”

Bertholdt, whose lanky body had been horizontally lying across the bed comfortably, sat up onto his elbows and cluelessly asked, “What’s why?”

Sasha’s smile widened, and she crossed her arms, mimicking Connie’s knowing smirk. “It’s because Jean-boy, here, is sweet on our dear little—”

“Would you shut up!” Jean yelled louder than before, fists shaking in anger. His face was flushed an impossible shade of red, and you would’ve joined in on the laughter, had your head not exploded from the pain.

You were fully aware of the incessant teasing Jean received regarding his relationship with you, and you would honestly be lying if you said you didn’t get a kick out of it as well. Deciding to spare your friend today, you sent a good-natured smile to him, hoping that would be enough to quell his frustration.

Had you not turned to converse with Eren, you wouldn’t have missed Jean’s dazed smile.

While talking to Eren, your mind briefly drifted to Levi and the situation that was weighing heavily on you. You didn’t want to believe that the Captain hated you– you desperately grasped onto your excuse that he was simply a harsh teacher. And yet, you knew there was something more to it.

In a panic-driven moment, you momentarily wondered if he had somehow found out about your feelings for him. You remembered him telling you about his upbringing— you knew better than most that Levi and confessions of love did not go together... at all. Before you could further dig yourself deeper into the pitiful hole you had been in the past month, a painfully familiar voice broke through your intrusive thoughts.

“You know how loud you are? This isn’t a damn daycare.”

“Sir!”

All conversation in the room came to an abrupt halt. You couldn’t help but grow amused at the sight of Eren and Bertholdt scrambling off your bed to stand and salute their superior. Your small smile was wiped off your face when your eyes met stormy grey ones. You quickly looked down, before inhaling quickly and swiftly pulling your bedsheets back. You attempted to muster as much strength as you could, ignoring the multiple eyes on you. You gracefully stood up from the bed, and turned to Levi, managing the salute as well. You slowly looked up at him.

“Sir,” you shakily mumbled, internally cringing once again at the uncharacteristic rasp to your voice.

You received proud looks of admiration from your friends, though Jean’s remained more concerned than proud. Idiot! he thought to himself. We know you’re strong, now’s not the time to prove it!

Levi, meanwhile, had tried his very best to suppress the guilt that had been eating away at him for the past day; however, it had only worsened when he saw you and heard your weak voice. Upon making eye contact with you, he almost wanted to fall to his knees and apologize profusely for everything he had put you through, audience be damned.

Levi had spent the better half of the day pacing around your room in the infirmary wing of the Scout Regiment’s base, lost deeply in his thoughts, as his concern for you weighed heavily in his heart. After a few more hours of pacing, he had finally come to the conclusion that he was an idiot (a grade A, unique brand of idiot all in a league of his very own), and that he was in love with you.

Where the first realization annoyed him to high heaven, the second one brought him a sense of peace that was only heightened every time he had looked at your unconscious form.

Levi, uncomfortable with the amount of self-actualizing he had done that day, had left the room after softly caressing your cheek, hoping to convey all of his guilt and apologies and love into the simple gesture. Once he was away from the infirmary wing of the base, he inhaled deeply, itching for the comfort of a cup of warm tea. On his way to the mess hall, he had passed by your friends from the 104th, all undoubtedly on their way to see you. Levi’s eyebrow had slightly risen upon noticing the varying looks of defiance and anger on each of their faces. He had remained unfazed, his half-lidded eyes looking away, as if he hadn’t even seen them at all.

Somehow, it was harder to face them now with you standing amongst them.

His face retained its usual impassive and bored expression, yet it momentarily faltered when he noticed you slightly stumble from where you were standing next to the hospital bed. Levi’s heartbeat quickened, and he made a subtle move to rush over to you to catch you for the second time that day, but Jean was quicker. The taller man had been keeping a watchful eye on you, and had quickly dropped his salute to stand behind you and steady your slightly uncoordinated form. You comfortably relaxed backwards into his arms as you sent a grateful smile up at him, and he softly smiled back in response, leading you back to the bed.

Levi was both relieved and a little fucking pissed off.

“Visiting hours are over— I need to talk to the brat,” he lazily said, authority ringing loudly and clearly in his command.

For the first time in all his years of captaining the scouts, there was a quick hesitation after his command.

Levi raised an unamused eyebrow at each of the cadets, silently challenging them to disobey him. Despite his threatening aura, he wouldn’t blame any of your friends if they were to defy Levi. The Captain deserved it for his treatment of you— he’d take it like a man.

Your eyes widened in surprise when your friends subtly glanced at you, silently asking if it was okay to leave you alone with him. Upon hearing Levi’s request to talk to you, your heart had begun to uncontrollably race and you swore you could feel it in your throat. You were disappointed in yourself for growing excited at finally being able to talk to him.

Blinking quickly, your cheeks grew hot under everyone’s gazes, so you reassuringly smiled at your eight friends, and you once again felt the genuine love you had for them erupt within your heart.

Ever the peacemaker of the group, Armin signaled for the rest to follow him out of the room, and they each uncertainly walked behind him. Mikasa squeezed your hand once more before following closely behind Eren, who sent you an encouraging smile. Bertholdt subtly sent a thumbs up to you, while Reiner winked at you as he looked over his broad shoulder. Your smile widened; however, it faltered when your eyes met Jean’s. His irritated expression worried you, yet before you could respond, he turned away and walked past Levi.

Levi had to give it to Jean— not many people had the balls to openly glare at the Captain.

Once everyone was gone, the tension within the room increased tenfold. You looked at Levi, and you bit your lip in contemplation, anticipating what he would say. Many thoughts rang through your head.

Was it another punishment? Was he going to yell at me? Did he find out about my fee–

“How do you feel?”

You almost had to pinch yourself. After one month of barely any interactions with your friend— if you were still even allowed to call him that— you realized how starved you were for pleasant conversation with Levi.

“I’ve been better,” you breathed out, still cautious. “How… how do you feel?”

Even after such an unpleasant experience, your unwavering kindness shone just as brightly. Levi’s heart ached so sweetly, and he internally groaned upon realizing how fucking whipped he was.

He silently stepped forward, pulling a seat to the side of your bed. Once he was seated, Levi looked into your eyes, and you felt your breath hitch at the intensity of the swirl of emotions dancing within his normally cold eyes. He exhaled softly.

You noticed how tired he looked.

“Just peachy.”

There was a pregnant pause, and you came to realize that there was just too much you wanted to say to him, and you didn’t know where to start. Your soft eyes held his sharp gaze.

“You scared the shit out of me, brat.”

Your heart involuntarily skipped a beat, and your eyes widened in response.

“I did?” you internally slapped yourself at your stupid response.

“Yeah. You did.”

“Sorry, sir,” you softly mumbled.

“Levi… just Levi.”

The Levi in front of you was a completely different man from the one who you’ve had the pleasure of interacting with over the past month. You thought back to your friends and their anger at your mistreatment, and you thought of the many unfair punishments, cold shoulder treatments, and overworking during training (despite you being second only to Humanity’s Strongest, himself). Slowly, your incredulity at being treated like a lapdog began to dim and was replaced by your growing indignation. Though you were no stranger to standing up for yourself, you still felt your anxiety skyrocket as you looked back up at your superior.

“Do you hate me, Captain? Did I… did I do something?”

And there it was.

Levi knew the question would come up at some point, and yet he still felt ill-prepared in his response. He knew this was a big step for you— in the whole year that he’s gotten to know you, he learned how much you hated confrontation. You blatantly ignoring his request and choosing to address him by his title caught his attention, and he frowned. When he looked into your slightly watery eyes, a warmth spread throughout his chest, and he had to clear his throat.

“Don’t say shit like that, you haven’t done anything.”

Levi wanted to punch himself— he was never good with words.

You, however, weren’t fazed by the manner in which he spoke. You had fallen for the man, harsh words and all.

“Then why have you—” you paused as you momentarily lost your voice.

Levi thought it was cute (to be fair, he found everything about you endearing), yet he knew it would be inappropriate to openly admire you when you were so clearly upset with him.

“Sorry,” you grew embarrassed and licked your lips, “It’s just… well, why have you been ignoring me? And— and yelling at me? We stopped drinking tea together, and practicing in the forests. You don’t even acknowledge me when I talk to you! I’m sure you have a really good reason, sir, but I just—”

Levi detested the sick feeling of guilt that churned within his heart. In hindsight, he really should’ve thought it through before he began his little plan of distancing himself from you. How else was he supposed to tell you oh, everyone in the fucking Scout Regiment wants you, and so do I, but I haven’t done anything about it because I’m a pussy, so I just decided to take it out on you and wallow in my own self-pity like the sad little man I am, without sounding like he was deranged.

“—I just miss you.”

Levi’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch, and his breath hitched. This time it was the sincerity in your eyes that made him look away quickly.

“I…”

I’ve missed you too, dammit.

At his lack of a response, your eyebrows furrowed, and your irritation grew. Your small hands balled the soft bedsheet, and you swallowed to soften the burn in your throat before speaking.

“Why did you even come here?” you scoffed indignantly, attempting to mask your hurt, “Was it to just to yell at me some more? Oh, I know! Maybe I need to run through training ten more times again, right?”

The guilt churned even more in his chest, and Levi seriously wanted to punch himself. He willed himself to say something— anything— but he felt speechless in front of you.

“Levi,” you hoarsely spoke with desperation, and he looked into your watery eyes. “Say something, please.”

It was as if you had read his mind, and a slight feeling of reassurance quelled the storm in his heart; you really were the only one for him. As he met your eyes— your beautiful, enchanting eyes— he felt his self-hatred skyrocket at the amount of hurt in them. He had grown used to seeing them filled with humor, kindness, and a soft edge that was rare to find nowadays. Yet seeing them filled with such pain and hurt was unsettling, and Levi went mute for the fifth time that day.

You nodded in understanding when he failed to say anything, and your heart clenched. Jean had been right— you were nothing more than a lovesick puppy. You blinked quickly as a poor attempt to conceal your tears, yet nothing ever escaped the Captain’s attention.

His gaze softened, and Levi found out something else about himself— he really didn’t like seeing you cry.

“Shit, please don’t cry,” he tenderly mumbled, as he leaned closer to you and gently cupped your face to wipe away your tears with the pads of his thumb.

Your breath hitched and your full lips involuntarily parted. You relished in the warmth of his touch, and you wanted nothing more than to lean into his comforting hand. Your name fell from his lips, and you felt yourself come back to reality. Remembering just how you had gotten into this situation, you decided to stand your ground. Despite everything in your body begging to give in and accept this moment with the Captain, you stood unwavering in your decision.

You gently grabbed his large hand with both your hands, and moved it away from your face and into your lap. You held it there loosely and delicately rubbed your fingers over his hand soothingly before eventually stopping, and looking back up at him.

His usual bored expression was long gone, and in its place was a very tender and vulnerable expression. A storm was brewing in his grey eyes, and you distantly remembered stargazing once with him. You had desperately wished you could read his thoughts— somehow, you had found his daunting eyes more fascinating than the starry sky. You felt an ache in your heart at the intimate memories, and you really really wished Levi loved you the way you love him.

“You know what, Levi? It doesn’t even matter if you hate me, because—” you inhaled sharply.

This has to be done, you reassured yourself, or else you’d be subjecting yourself to an onslaught of hurt and heartbreak.

“—Because I hate you.”

Your lip quivered and your broken voice faltered. And of course, Levi noticed.

His eyes darted down to your lips at the slight movement. His hands had stilled, and he decided that getting eaten by a damn titan would be much less painful than this.

And then he’s looking at you. You looked back at him, yet he’s looking at you— through you— in that way that makes you want to hide and hold your ground at the same time.

“Right,” Levi drawled, and you knew he didn’t believe you (hell, you were unconvinced yourself). His eyes reverted back to their cold nature, and he ran a hand through his hair, allowing the silky strands to softly land against his forehead.

He stood up, and wordlessly gave you a onceover. Under his scrutiny, you felt yourself grow insecure, but deep down you desperately hoped he’d stay. You bit your bottom lip in apprehension, and Levi’s eyes softened at the sight of your nervous habit.

How is it that he could kill titans all the livelong day yet when it came to this sweet girl, so small and disarming, he couldn’t even utter a single word?

Levi had never felt more pathetic. He peered down at you, momentarily debating whether it would be right for him to attempt one last thing before finally deciding fuck it, and gently cupping your cheek for the third time that day, bending down, and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. He gingerly inhaled your enticing scent, appreciating how even after the hell he had put you through, you still smelled so alluring.

You were positive that Levi could hear your heartbeat. You blinked many times in disbelief, as he pulled away and sent one last lingering gaze down at you.

Levi slightly smirked at the pretty blush that had colored your cheeks, his half-lidded eyes drinking in the mesmerizing sight of you sitting up in your bed and gaping up at him, your cheeks flushed and wet with the remnants of your tears. He turned around and silently left the room.

He had ignored every part of his body that begged him to stay.

▲▼▲

“Shut up, I can barely hear them!”

“Ow— Bertholdt, you’re stepping on my foot!”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Watch it, horse face!”

“Eren.”

“You piece of shit, I’m—”

The piece of bread that had been tightly held in Sasha’s grip suddenly fell to the floor. Everyone went silent.

“Holy shit, I think… I think he just kissed her.”

Jean really hoped Sasha was wrong.

He decided to ignore the fact that her freakishly good hearing bordered on supernatural, so there was really no way she could’ve been wrong with a mere wooden door standing between her and the conversation.

“I knew there was something going on between them! Reiner— pay up.”

Reiner muttered several curses under his breath as he pulled out a hefty stack of cash from his pocket. Connie’s grin widened.

Armin had glanced up at Jean, slightly alarmed at the dark expression on his face. Before he could comfort his friend, the door suddenly opened. Everyone scrambled to straighten themselves up, attempting to act like they hadn’t been just eavesdropping on the entire conversation between you and the Captain.

A chorus of sir’s rang throughout the large hallway, and Levi grew amused at the sight before him. His lips twitched upwards, and the cadets had to almost physically stop their mouths from dropping open at the sight. Levi’s ghost of a smile disappeared when his eyes met Jean’s seething ones.

The two held each other’s gazes, Levi’s expression being cool, while Jean’s had been irritated. Levi was not a fucking idiot; he knew the kid was in love with you.

Join the fucking club.

Levi, realizing that this was the exact reason he had gotten himself into that mess with you and not really wanting to sour his somewhat good mood, looked away from Jean to nod at the group of your friends.

“As you were.”

He brushed past Jean, his gaze as intimidating as ever, as he silently walked down the hallway. Jean’s fists clenched tightly. Once Levi had turned the corner, the group exploded into chatter, their reactions varying from stunned to adoring.

Jean really really fucking hoped Sasha was wrong.

▲▼▲

Your horse trotted proudly through the vast landscape, the wind blew through your open hair, your friends teased each other amicably, and your excitement grew at finally being cleared to join the scouts on their next expedition. Though you hadn’t been getting much sleep lately, and you’ve been a little too preoccupied to eat much, nothing could bring your mood down at this moment.

You were alongside your friends as you all followed the section commanders as their horses galloped into the edge of the forest. The mission for today was to exterminate any titans who had wandered too close to the walls. A simple mission, and you were more than capable.

You had been in a great mood.

Until your eyes landed on Levi.

He had been further up, leading his own squad. He had turned around to respond to Gunther, and that’s when his eyes had met yours. Your internal conflict grew, and you ultimately ended up averting your eyes and ignoring him, deciding to maintain your cold treatment towards him.

Him kissing your head had only further confused you, despite the sweet butterflies you felt every time you thought back to it. Levi’s treatment towards you had unexpectedly changed since that day in the infirmary, and it had reverted to the way it was before his sudden aversion to you, though there was something much sweeter in his actions. You swore you were getting whiplash.

Though he had been significantly kinder to you, you had held your ground, unrelenting in your declaration. Part of you was terrified that if you gave in and became comfortable, he’d suddenly return back to the yelling, the punishments, and the overworking. Part of you also didn’t want to face reality— your feelings were unreciprocated, and they would only serve to bring you a world of heartache and sadness.

Your cold shoulder towards him was nothing compared to the way he had treated you. Yours mainly consisted of avoiding him, and when that wasn’t an option and you had to interact with him, you kept it civil and short. Your heart would ache, but you knew it was for the best. It helped that Jean would offer approving smiles and words of encouragement, even going as far as to smirk when you had ignored the Captain.

Levi, meanwhile, had frowned when he noticed that you ignored him. Again.

In all honesty, he did deserve it, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt like a bitch. He grew irked at your display. Levi hoped you would understand that him kissing your head and showing affection towards you was his grand confession of love. You knew he was shit with words, and he hoped that that would be enough.

He was sadly fucking mistaken.

His attention had been on you the whole mission. Even when the scouts had to dismount from the horses to use the ODM gear through the trees, he had somehow managed to keep a watchful eye on you. You were graceful as ever as you flew through the trees, though his observing gaze noticed that your reaction time was noticeably slower than normal. He had also noticed the dark circles under your usually bright eyes, and he grew worried upon noticing your overall state.

Levi, himself, wasn’t faring much better. He was getting virtually no sleep, running completely on caffeine, adrenaline, and pure will, yet he still made sure he was in excellent shape when it came to these missions— humanity was resting on his shoulders, after all.

The firing of a flare gun in the distance indicated that the group would be encountering titans— a lot of titans— from the left. The soldiers prepared, all eyes focused on the left. You had conveniently taken up the right-most end of the formation, and your attention had also been on the left, your blades held tightly in your hands.

It was only by chance that Levi decided to glance down at you as he soared above you in the middle of the formation. Your eyes met once again, and Levi’s heart lurched at the beautiful sight, when movement behind you immediately caught his attention. A large abnormal with the ability to jump from tree to tree had suddenly appeared and made an attempt to grab you. Your attention had been solely on Levi, so you hadn’t noticed, especially over the roar of the wind in your ears.

Levi’s eyes widened, and he yelled out your name. The rich baritone of his deep voice reached your ears, and you turned slightly behind you, yet you reacted too slowly. Your body jerked backwards, flying so far from the group. You flew through the air at such a great speed that it took you by surprise when you slammed against a tree as the wires of your ODM gear grew tangled. The abnormal had missed you— barely. Your head slammed against the tree and you felt the wind knocked out of your body at the impact.

You whimpered at the hell of a hospital stay you’d have to face after this.

The abnormal almost seemed to be grinning wider upon realizing that it had successfully subdued you. You attempted to quickly stand up, though your body yelled in agony at the movement. Willing yourself to fight back, you shakily stood up, tightly gripping your blades that had miraculously not fallen to the ground throughout the struggle. You winced at the searing pain that shot through your head, yet you clenched your teeth in determination. Realizing that your gear was broken and therefore useless, you quickly discarded yourself of it, and felt some of the tension in your body alleviate now that you were significantly lighter.

“The hell is she doing?” Jean yelled incredulously from his spot next to Levi, and the other members of the group looked on in shock as they all attempted to make it to you in time.

“She’s fighting back,” Levi spoke through gritted teeth, his worry for you eating him alive. His eyebrows were furrowed in stress and anxiety, and he was now soaring impossibly fast through the trees in order to reach you.

Stupid brat. Stupid, resilient, little brat.

“Attagirl!” Oluo and Eld cheered, and Petra shoved them, warning them to stop their blatant ogling in the middle of a dangerous mission. They skillfully dodged her attack, grinning at their adept use of the ODM gear.

A noise towards the side caught their attention, and the group realized the titans they had been anticipating were now in sight. Levi coolly assessed the shitty situation, before commanding that most of the soldiers take care of the titans, while Levi, his squad, and some of the 104th’s cadets would assist you. The group split up, and Levi turned his attention back to you, his heart thumping against his chest.

As the titan made a move to grab you, you exhaled quickly to focus before skillfully jumping onto its elongated arm and running quickly towards its nape. You were defying gravity as you gained speed the higher you went. The titan wasn’t stupid, and it began to grab you with its other arm, yet you anticipated its move. You lithely dodged it, executing a quick front flip as you narrowly escaped its grasp once again.

This was it!

You saw your opening. You leaped forward and pushed your feet against its shoulder as hard as you could, soaring high up in the air above the titan. Muscle memory served you well, and you thought back to the training circuit that had mimicked a situation almost exactly like this one. You gracefully began to spin yourself faster and faster, your cape billowing behind you as you finally readied your blades for the final blow. You yelled out, as your head pain worsened. As a result, your maneuver faltered slightly, almost imperceptible to the human eye. The titan noticed.

It lashed a large hand out again, attempting to grab you, but it accidentally slapped your body away. You cried out in pain, and you flew in the direction of your friends, hurtling towards the ground. You were falling so fast, and you felt yourself grow dizzy from being chucked around so much in the last five minutes.

Eren yelled out your name, a whimper stuck in his throat at the sight of your almost lifeless body spiraling downwards. Jean’s eyes widened, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to make it in time.

Levi’s heart stopped upon witnessing the titan slap your body with so much force. You were plummeting towards the ground at an impossible speed, and he didn’t even think twice before withdrawing his ODM gear’s hooks and diving towards you within the blink of an eye. His cape flew behind him, and a determined glint had overtaken his angry features.

You had been bordering between consciousness and unconsciousness, yet the sight above you had been so clear that it almost felt as if everything was moving in slow motion. Your long hair flew around you, creating a curtain around your face, as you looked up at Levi. He had dived towards you, his jaw so tightly clenched. His muscular long arm began reaching out to you. The ground was quickly approaching, and you felt a sense of serenity at the sight of your Captain, despite your confusion and the severity of this situation.

“Levi,” you mumbled, smiling softly.

His face dropped upon seeing the calm expression on your face, and he willed himself to go faster, a number of expletive curses ringing through his head.

That damn titan. Did it know how small you were? How precious you were?

He spun himself slightly to gain momentum, and he saw you were just within reach. Levi confidently stretched his strong arm out even more, managing to wrap his hand around your arm. He swiftly pulled you into his chest, one arm wrapping around your waist, while the other hand cradled your head protectively against his broad chest. He swiftly flipped himself around to face his body upwards, further ensuring he’d take the majority of the blow in case you two ended up hitting the ground, and shot both of his ODM gear’s hooks into a nearby tree, propelling both of you away from the ground and towards the high branch. You fleetingly realized how familiar this position felt.

Once Levi safely landed, he kneeled, and supported your body against his thigh as he continued to hold you in his arms. He quickly looked over his shoulder, and could make out the sight of the titan falling to the ground. All the members of his squad seemed alive and well, so he turned his attention back to you. His eyes quickly darted over your face, desperately searching for any obvious injuries.

Your eyes fluttered open at the feeling of Levi running his hands through your hair and over your cheeks. The Levi in front of you was leagues different from the cool and composed one you had come to know. He had a frantic look in his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly, as he desperately peered down at you.

“Le… Levi?” You mumbled, your voice still a little hoarse from your recent infirmary stay.

“You are so precious to me, you hear me?” He lowly spoke, panic and anger and a whole plethora of emotions coloring his normally deadpan voice.

Your jaw fell open and you were almost positive you were suffering from a mean concussion, and this was a hallucination. “Wha—”

“You’re a fucking brat— an incredibly frustrating, resilient little brat— but you’re mine.”

You dazedly looked up at him, and you realized how close his face was to yours. His muscular chest was heaving up and down, and a small droplet of sweat dripped down from his hairline. Levi’s handsome features held nothing but adoration for you, and in that moment nothing could bring you down from the high you were experiencing. You felt his warm hands cup your cheek once more, a habit he seemed to be fond of.

“You want a fucking declaration of love? Here it is— if anything happens to you, I swear I’ll kill every titan on this piece of shit planet,” he spoke, surprisingly unbothered with how vulnerable he was being with you. He moved closer to you, his forehead nearly resting on your own. “I don’t give a fuck if you hate me or not. You’re mine, and I’m yours. And that’s all there is to it.”

Your hand creeped up to grasp the wrist of the hand that had been caressing your face, and you tightened your fingers around it. He froze, momentarily wondering if you were rejecting his confession, and he internally groaned at the thought.

There’d be no coming back from this one.

“You’re mine?” You shakily asked, a gloriously beautiful smile slowly gracing your features.

“That’s what I said,” he mumbled, attempting to conceal how lovestruck he felt at your smile.

“After… after we get home and I get some medical attention, you’re going to have to kiss me, alright? I’m—”

You were cut off by his lips pressing against your own. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you relished in the soft feeling of his lips molding against yours. You felt an indescribable warmth erupt in your chest, and you whimpered against Levi’s lips. His kiss was soft and warm, a huge contrast to the Levi from this past month. He pulled away just as quickly as he had bent down.

“One for the road,” he simply explained, glancing down at you. He internally smirked at the pretty blush coloring your cheeks— he was always fond of the sight.

▲▼▲

“You’re not serious.”

“Do I look like I’m joking?”

You stifled your giggles at Levi’s straight face. Your expression still showed your disbelief at what he had just told you.

“I’m not an idiot, Levi, I know how some people look at me,” you laughed, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Even the Commander?”

“Oh, I’m working my way up through the ranks right now, can’t you tell?” You teased, gesturing down to your intertwined bodies, as you both faced each other in his warm bed.

“You’re funny, brat,” he deadpanned, no heat and all fondness as he affectionately pinched your cheeks.

You snuggled deeper into his chest, savoring the warmth that you were enveloped in. You were wearing his shirt— still warm and smelling strongly of him— and you inhaled softly as your face pressed deeper into his chest. Somehow, the slight aftermath of your headache from the recent expedition began to dull slightly.

“I’m sorry again,” Levi murmured, softly cradling your head against his chest.

“Really? I couldn’t tell the first five hundred times you said so,” you teased, looking up at him. Your breath hitched at the sight of his face angled down towards you, dark wisps of hair falling over his eyes and structured face. Levi was so painfully handsome, you could feel your heart flutter.

His eyes were intense, and his guilt continued to stir within his stomach. Seemingly able to read his mind, you pressed a chaste kiss to his warm chest.

“Idiot,” you mumbled, “I really wouldn’t care if the King himself came up to me and proposed, and you know exactly why.”

“Humor me.”

“Terrifying guy, goes by the name of Humanity’s Strongest Soldier?”

He chuckled lowly, the deepness of his voice vibrating through his chest, and your insides turned to mush. Feeling relieved at successfully pulling Levi out of his little hole of guilt, you yawned softly. Your bruised ribs still ached at times, yet you ignored it this time to cuddle deeper into Levi, who was also on the verge of sleep.

He was sleepily looking down at you, observing your attempts to get comfortable in his embrace, and he softly smiled to himself. His muscular arms tightened around you, one of his hands coming to rest on the soft curve of your hip. He relished in the fact that sleep would be coming easily to him with you here. Levi had surprised himself with how easily he was able to show his affections toward you, and he chalked it up to that being further proof that you really were the only one for him.

He felt a warmth come from the sweet pang in his chest, and it spread throughout his entire body. Levi had learned to associate that feeling with you.

His eyes closed silently, and you pressed one last kiss to his chest.

“Precious,” he mumbled, “Precious little brat.”

▲▼▲

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #attack on titan #attack on titan fic #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #levi aot #levi fanfiction #aot fanfiction #aot #request #jean kirschtien #jean kirstein x reader

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llemonteaa · 3 years

Text

Your daily dose of angst

No one deserves to be second best. That’s something you learnt the hard way.

Pairings: Oikawa x f!reader & Iwaizumi x f!reader

WC: 1,769

Warnings: swearing, angst (with a little dose of fluff at the end :)

You always wondered, even to this day, why Oikawa had chosen you in the first place. When asked what his ideal type was, Oikawa would laugh and say, “Someone who makes me look greater than I already am of course,” Cue Iwaizumi smacking him in the head.

“Mean Iwa-Chan! Fine, my ideal type would preferably be someone with fair hair, an adorable smile and a lovely ass to rest my head on. Oh, and she must also love milkbread.”

None of those boxes would be ticked for you unfortunately. Your hair was jet black and curtained part of your face, which only added to your supposedly mean aura. Your resting face was somewhat frightening and your smile could be described as Kageyama’s Cheshire Cat grin. Not to mention your ass was almost as non existent as Oikawa’s (oops), and you much preferred pork buns to milkbread.

Yet despite that, Oikawa had asked you out one humid Friday afternoon, exactly 7 months ago today. But you realised, maybe a bit too late, that a lot can happen in 7 months.

Oikawa of course, was infamous for having fangirls practically glued to his hip wherever he went. And dating you didn’t change that in the slightest. In fact, his fangirls, especially one in particular, seemed to go up and above their way to spend time with your boyfriend, even when you were inevitably stood by his side.

“As I was saying-” you began.

“Oikawa! I was just hoping to bump into you!” someone swatted you aside, your vision now platinum curls.

Reni. She practically threw herself onto Oikawa, bending over slightly so that he’s have a clear view of the lace panties underneath her unbelieveably short skirt.

“Oh hey Reni. What’s up?” Your boyfriend turned to face who you called his number one, entirely devoted, fangirl.

“So, about our History project, would it be too much trouble to ask for some help? I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure it all out, even sacrificing much required beauty sleep, but I’m still yet to make any progress. And seeing how you are quite the History whizz...”

“Of course Reni, you’re the first person who’s complimented me on my brains. When would you like to meet up?” It was almost a joke how YOUR boyfriend seemed to be spending more time with a girl who had nothing but the audacity, than his s/o herself. And History whizz your ass, everyone including Iwaizumi, who had overheard that particular part of the conversation as he passed and scoffed, knew that it would be a miracle if the teacher graded him on History at all.

“If you could, now would be a great time.” Reni fluttered her eyelashes which reminded you of rather hairy caterpillars.

“Well I’m not doing anything as of now, apart from talking to y/n, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Right y/n?” Both pairs of eyes seemed to acknowledge you for the first time. You, the girlfriend, but at the same time you the thirdwheel, apparently.

“Well in fact I do mind but...” you hadn’t even managed to get out before Reni used her large boobs to push you out of the way.

“You see Oikawa, y/n doesn’t mind at all. So come on now, my books are in my dorm.”

And with that, she grabbed your boyfriend’s arm and dragged him down the hall in the direction of the girl’s dorms, Oikawa throwing a sheepish glance over his shoulder.

“We’ll resume our conversation in a bit y/n~”

Yeah right. You’d probably forget what you were even talking to him about by the time he came back from the spawn of Satan’s hellhole.

In the weeks that followed, you found every minute of your time alone with Oikawa accompanied by Reni. No matter where or what you were doing with your boyfriend, she always seemed to find an excuse to but it. And Oikawa was nevertheless, just as oblivious to Reni’s attempts to jump in his pants as he was to your blatant annoyance.

“But y/n you have to understand. Reni hurt her ankle yesterday during her cheerleading practise and being the kind friend I am, I had to help her make her way around school.” Your boyfriend attempted to reason with you, after you had pulled him behind the school gym where he was moments from entering. This was partially because you had desperately needed to confront him about how much time he seemed to be unnecessarily spending with Reni and also in an attempt to prevent the devil herself from seeking you guys, Oikawa specifically, out.

“No, I don’t have to understand. Reni dropped the sprained ankle act the moment she thought my back was turned. God you can be so blind sometimes.” You rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“y/n, now you’re just being unreasonable. You know I only ever spend time with Reni when she’s in need of my help. I’m simply doing what any decent friend would do.”

“Except she needs your help all the goddamn time. You could ask anyone, anyone, and they’ll tell you how Reni’s been crushing on you since way before we got together.”

“Yes, I know that, but she’s stopped liking me since I asked you out. y/n what’s so hard for you to understand?”

“Everything Oikawa, everything is so hard to understand. And yet I think you’re the one who doesn’t understand the most. Reni doesn’t ever need your help, she just wants it. And she wants it to the point where she’s willing to make up any crappy excuse to get alone with you. I’m starting to think you guys are the ones dating and I’m just the ‘friend’.”

“y/n you know that’s not true...”

“Do I know that? Do I? Because if I did, then I wouldn’t constantly need to be fighting for your attention knowing it’s always going to be a losing battle. Your there for Reni more than you’re there for me, and we’re the ones in a relationship. I’m not stopping you from seeing Reni because that would just be wrong on my behalf, but at least put some effort in Oikawa.”

“Put some effort in? Oh you must be fucking kidding me. You should be grateful I even asked you out in the first place instead of telling me to put some effort in. The difference between you and Reni is that she’s not a jealous and clingy bitch who can’t even handle her own partner from seeing his friends without kicking up a fight. I could easily dump you anyday y/n and yet I haven’t, so how about you put some effort in and stop being so fucking controlling.”

It seemed as if everything came to a standstill the moment those venomous words left his mouth. It made your eyes water and your heart clench, every syllable of ‘jealous’, every syllable of ‘controlling’, stabbed your heart to the point you wondered if you’d ever be able to piece it back together.

Yet through the darkness a tiny flicker of light fought its way through. And that tiny flicker of light is what reminded you that not a single bit of this stupid argument was your fault. Blinking a few times, you forced yourself to bite back your tears that threatened to tumble, before clenching your fists to the point your knuckles turned white, and glowered up at your soon to be ex boyfriend.

“I lowered my fucking standards for you Tooru. Lowered my fucking standards to be with someone who only sees me as second best. Who’d rather let some bitch with a skirt shorter than your hindsight to drag you around like a doll with no brains. All this time I could’ve been with someone who wouldn’t let their ‘friend’ control every minute of their life and completely disregard the fact that they were taken. Well lucky for you Tooru, Reni’s all yours now. She’s won, that bitch with the cockroach eyelashes has won. So now you can get the fuck out of my way because we’re over.”

And with that you shoved your way past your ex, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your blazer, your hair framing your face now slick with fresh tears.

It was his loss after all. His loss that he wasn’t able to decipher friendliness from flirtiness. Or maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe Oikawa knew ignoring his relationship status to spend time with someone who was quite blatantly ready to jump into his pants at any given opportunity was wrong. Maybe Oikawa knew he’d have you forever, he’d have you to come back to when everyone else left him for the same reason his last girlfriend did. Except this time he was wrong. He didn’t have you forever. And it was all his fault.

Deep down he knew you had every right to shove past him, he knew you had every right to be furious with him, yet admitting that would’ve been the last thing he’d do. So instead Oikawa just scoffed before heading in the opposite direction that you had disappeared in, and into the gym. Completely oblivious to the fact that his best friend had just heard the entire event go down.

2 months later

You giggled as you let your boyfriend Iwaizumi drag you along the school halls. Similar to how you used to watch her do to him. Except in this point in time, you could honestly care less about_ them._ Now you had found yourself a perfect boyfriend who saw you as nothing but the best. He’d see through any girl’s lame attempts to buy themselves alone time with him and would certainly cherish every moment spent together. Hajime knew just how easy it was to let someone slip through your fingers when you took advantage of them just being there, after seeing the exact situation enravel in front of his best friend only a couple months ago.

“Babe are you even listening to me?”

God was her voice annoying.

“Babe.”

Oikawa sighed before finally glancing down at the girl who spent every second possible hanging off him like the school tie he wore.

“Hm Reni.” He zoned out the moment she began rambling on about God knows what. Probably something to do with how he seemed to have gained more fangirls or whatever. But he didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was you. You, who was currently skipping along with his best friend, happier than you’d ever been with him. You who was never like this. Never like Reni who was jealous, clingy and so fucking controlling.

Oh.

a/n: We all know that both Oikawa and Iwaizumi would be the best boyfriends ever despite Oikawa being a piece of shit in this.😌

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Lost & Found - 13

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment, oc feels like she’s gonna puke which, honestly, same

Word Count: 5.3k

a/n: we’ve only got a few chapters left!!!! *cue the screaming*

Chapter 13. You Never Walk Alone

series masterlist

I’ve never been one to follow the rules.

In fact, I’ve wondered many times if I came into existence for the sole purpose of breaking as many rules as possible within a short amount of time.

However, as I sit here staring down at my phone and listening to it ringing without someone answering on the other end, I find myself promising whoever is listening to my prayers that I’ll obey every rule to come my way for the rest of my life as long as someone just answers me.

For hours, no one does.

By the time the moon has risen, I’ve finally dozed off on the couch with my phone still in hand and a very confused Elle on my stomach. When my phone begins to ring, I jump, nearly falling off of the couch in the process.

Without even bothering to see who is calling me, I bring the phone up to my ear.

“Yah, hyung. I’m already- oh...Jolie?”

I blink, wondering for a moment if this is all some cruel dream. “...Jimin? What’s going on- what happened?”

“You’re safe- she’s safe, hyung.” There’s chatter in the background, but my ears perk up at a familiar voice. “I’m so sorry, you must have been worried sick- hey!”

“Jolie?”

I jump off the couch, eyes wide. “Chung-hei?! What’s going on? Why haven’t you been answering your phone? I- I thought…”

I don’t quite know what I thought. Obviously, that the worst had transpired. Chung-hei knows exactly what path my thoughts have taken, as she’s quick to explain.

“I’m so sorry, Jolie. When we left your place Sunmi noticed that someone was tailing us,” my breath comes up short. “I think they thought you were with us, they might have been tailing the car for the past couple of days to make sure it was yours. And then they probably saw Christina…”

She doesn’t need to explain that to me. No doubt whoever was tailing them saw Christina with her severed thread and automatically assumed that she was Jimin’s estranged soulmate.

“So what happened? Is everyone ok? Is Christina alright?”

There’s some fumbling on the other side of the phone, and I swear I hear Chung-hei’s annoyed sigh but it’s quickly covered as another familiar voice breaks through the phone.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me!” Christina shouts a little unnecessarily.

“I- how did you hear me?” I ask, furrowing my brows. “Am I on speaker?”

There’s a long pause in which I know that I must be on speaker, especially as a voice that sounds mysteriously like Kim Seokjin shouts “Yeah you are we wanted to know what you sound like!” There’s a muffled grunt in which I can imagine someone giving him a firm elbow to the ribs.

“Hang on, let me step outside-” Christina’s suggestion is met with a load of whining, but she must ignore them because a second later all is silent save for the sound of wind. “There. I needed to get out of there- I’m freaking out. I’m so dying right now.”

“I’m sure you’re rattled, you were literally just tailed! How did you lose them?”

“Oh, yeah. That sucked, but I was talking about the fact that I literally just met BTS. I don’t want to spoil anything for you, but Park Jimin is so much more handsome in person. I couldn’t hardly think straight in there-”

“Yeah, yeah,” I groan, burying my face in my hands. “Save it for later. I was a mess over here, thinking you’d died or something. Can you please explain what went on?”

Once she subsides in her giggling - and I get over the strange butterflies that have somehow come to life in my stomach - Christina gets to the point.

“Right...well, we’d only made it a couple of blocks before Sumni noticed that someone was following us. She’s been trained to pick up on that kind of stuff, you know. She said that they’d been hiding out near your apartment earlier, and that it looked like they’d been waiting the entire time while we’d been inside.”

“So how’d you lose them?”

“She drove straight toward the Bighit building and contacted the security there. By the time the people tracking us knew that she was leading them into a trap, it was too late. They got pulled over, security took them over to the police department a little while ago.”

I shiver thinking about them lurking outside of my apartment, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

“And...why didn’t you answer my calls, then? I seriously was about to go running around Seoul looking for you.”

Christina barks a laugh. “That’d be a sight to see. We were told to power off our phones, they’re being looked at right now to make sure they weren’t able to somehow get a way to track us through there. We should get them back pretty soon.”

Taking a seat and then slinking down to sprawl out on the couch, I sight at the ceiling. My eyes well up tears of relief, but I close my eyes to stop them from escaping. “I’m happy you’re safe.”

“Me too. The boys were already at the Bighit building, you should’ve seen Jimin. He was-” Christina lowers her voice as though suddenly realizing that she’s not that far from the man in question, “You know how the boys say that he can be really scary when he’s angry?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I believe them now. I think it was a good thing security took those people away before he could see them. He probably would have killed them, he looked so pissed off.”

I snort out a laugh, throwing my hand over my mouth. “Let me guess, that only made him more attractive to you?”

“You know what, it totally did.”

It feels good to laugh after the stress of the day, so I let it out. Giggling up a storm with Christina who admits that she may be wavering in her undying devotion for Jimin simply because of the fact that Taehyung offered her a glass of lemonade.

“Oh, oh! He’s looking at me- oh. He’s telling me to come back inside.” I let out another guffaw at Christina’s massive crush on Taehyung. “Hey, I have to turn you back over to your soulmate now, but I’ll let you know when I get my phone back. Ok?”

“Ok,” I mumble, suddenly going quiet. There’s some static as the phone is exchanged, and suddenly Jimin’s speaking to me.

“Hey...you doing ok?”

I blink, taken aback by his question. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Then, when he doesn’t respond, “Are you...alright?”

From the way the voices in the background are fading, Jimin must be moving away to find a more private location. Indeed, I again hear Seokjin’s teasing voice in the background however it’s too muffled to understand.

“Yeah. All good over here.” I hear a door click shut. “There’s something I need to talk to you about, though. About everything that happened today. You might not like it, but...well, it’s for your own safety.”

This has me sitting up straight, bracing for whatever it is he’s about to say. “Ok…”

“We need you to stay inside, don’t leave your house. Just for a couple of days, maximum. We don’t know if these people had more that were trying to track you, and until we can round them all up…”

I stare blankly at the wall in front of me. Stay here? No work?

Honestly, it doesn’t sound that bad.

Except for one little thing.

“...Jolie?”

“I...I’m not sure, Jimin.”

“I know. I know, and I’m sorry,” it makes it so much worse, because I can hear just how sorry he is. “But please, just for a few days. We need- I need you safe.”

How can I say no to that?

“Alright.”

“You’ll do it? I’ll have groceries delivered, just text me what you need-”

“I’m pretty sure I can pay for my groceries, Jimin,” I say with a strained smile, eyeing the calendar on the wall and the circled date just a couple of days from now. Hopefully all of this will blow over by then. “Don’t worry.”

“Honestly, if you don’t send me a grocery list I’ll just end up sending random food to your apartment. So take your pick, I guess.”

Rolling my eyes fondly, I give an over exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll compile a list.”

✂

The girls get their phones back not long after I finish my conversation with Jimin. Sunmi is quick to send me a play by play of Christina’s growing crush, which helps to ease the worry growing in the pit of my stomach.

The next morning there’s a pile of groceries waiting outside on my doorstep, making me smile softly. Jimin had clearly added a few items to my small list, because I don’t remember requesting a bag of chocolates or a bag of Doritos. Either way, I’ll take it.

There isn’t a whole lot to do with my day off, other than find a new show to watch and different ways to annoy Elle. Jimin texts me throughout the day, and I find myself itching to call him.

If only to just hear his voice for a moment.

However, as my fingers hover over the call button, I find myself hesitating. It scares me just how quickly I want to interact with him. After all that I did to distance myself from him, I’ve been reduced to an insatiable fangirl after a bouquet of flowers and some slipped chocolates.

Staring at my phone, I try my best to control my breathing. Then I send off a message.

Me: Ok, help. I’m freaking out.

Christina is quick to respond.

Christina 🍯: hahahahaha

Me: what.

Me: I come to you for help and I get laughed at? 😡

Christina 🍯: no, it’s just...when are you not freaking out?

Christina 🍯: think about it

Christina 🍯: you always are lol

Me: Ok. Not helping. Remember, I came to you for help?

Christina 🍯: right right, what’s up

Me: I think this is all happening too fast

Christina 🍯: I’m assuming this is about Park Jimin?? Who, might I add, looked fiiiine in his sweats yesterday

Me: QUIT IT

Me: I’M GROWING WEAK

Christina 🍯: are you feeling things?!! 😱

Me: YES OK I AM PLS HELP

Christina 🍯: I don’t see why you need help…?

Christina 🍯: isn’t this a good thing?

Me: is it?

Christina 🍯: ...yes.

Christina 🍯: what brought this on?

Me: I want to call him.

Christina 🍯: ….

Me: We just talked last night.

Christina 🍯: ….

Me: well, isn’t it all a bit much? I mean, I literally was trying to be completely separated from him just a few weeks ago and now I’m suddenly having to remind myself that I don’t need to constantly talk to him! Isn’t that like a bit...idk, a bit sketchy??

Christina 🍯: no.

Christina ��: idk if you remember this, but he’s your soulmate. And sometimes when people start to meet their soulmates, they want to talk all the time.

Me: isn’t it going to annoy him? I mean, I already kinda feel like a pity case…

Christina 🍯: first off, no. you’re not a pity case, so stop thinking that. If anyone’s a pity case, it’s me because I was invited to lunch today with Chung-hei nd the boys and I’m gonna ride this out for as long as possible

Christina 🍯: if I could sneak you a picture of Tae without looking like a creep, I totally would 😰

Me: ok, I don’t know how to respond to that lolll

Me: have fun at lunch though!!! Don’t drool or anything

Christina 🍯: yeah, let’s move past that 😂

Christina 🍯: just, call him. Honestly, he’s been checking his phone constantly anyways. And, don’t you think he deserves it? Call him. You know I don’t mean this in a rude way but...he’s done everything in this weird relationship-that’s-not-a-relationship so far. Time for you to return the favor.

✂

“...Jimin?”

Jimin blinks, looking around the table until his eyes land on who was just calling his name. Chung-hei smiles at him from her spot beside Namjoon.

“Yes?”

It’s when everyone starts to giggle that he realizes he must have missed something.

“How’re you doing over there?” Chung-hei asks. Jimin frowns.

“...good. How are you?”

Namjoon places his arm on the back of Chung-hei’s chair, and Jimin notices the way her cheeks automatically redden.

“You seem a little distracted today,” Namjoon croons. “That’s all.”

Looking around at everyone’s amused faces, Jimin notices one face that isn’t looking in his direction.

Christina is smiling slightly at her phone, fingers flying across the screen as she texts out a message.

“Christina’s distracted too!” Jimin points to the girl like a kindergartener, a sly smile on his face when she looks up at him with raised brows.

“Hey, it’s for a good reason,” she says.

“Oh?” Taehyung leans forward, resting his chin in his hand. “And what would that be?”

Everyone notices the way Christina looks at Taehyung before quickly looking away, as though looking at him for too long could burn her. Like a moth to a candle, though, she can’t quite stay away.

“His soulmate,” she finally says, pointing an accusing finger right back at him. “I’m helping her through an existential crisis or something.”

Jimin automatically scoots forward, concern written across his face. “What’s going on? Does she need something?”

Christina snorts as a text - a text from Jolie, apparently - comes through on her phone. “No. She’s fine. Just needs to get out of her head. I suspect that sitting cooped up in the house isn’t helping.”

Ah.

It had hurt to have to order her to stay home, he knew how much that could hurt. Sure, some people might not have a problem with it. But something told him that there were only so many distractions in Jolie’s small apartment that could keep her entertained. Hopefully it would all be over soon.

And then what?

That was the question that had been plaguing him today. How long would he be forced to run this same track over and over again? How long until they were both ready to face each other?

They were going to face each other, right?

Christina sits back in her chair with a satisfied sigh, looking quite pleased with herself.

“What are you so happy about?” Jimin asks, leaning back and crossing his arms. Christina merely looks at him and then down at his phone which sits atop the table.

Just like magic, it begins to ring.

“O-oh, uh…” Jimin scrambles to his feet, nearly tipping over his water in the process. Grabbing his phone, he looks for the quickest exit.

“Why don’t you just stay in here?” Jin asks, ever the prying one. “We can all chat.”

Jimin pays him no mind, heading straight for the door and bringing the phone to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?” He prays he sounds nonchalant.

“Aish, he’s already so over-protective,” Hobi calls out loud enough for Jolie to hear on the other side of the phone.

“Hyung! At least wait until I’m out of the room!” Jimin shouts back, finally slipping out into the hallway. Jolie’s laugh is enough to make him smile.

“Sounds like you’re having fun,” she teases.

Jimin sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. “So much. How are you? Have you gone stir-crazy yet?”

There’s a moment’s silence. “Yes. Definitely. I think by about eight o’clock this morning, actually.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

Another moment of silence, in which Jimin scrambles for something - anything to say in order to keep her on the phone.

“Did you, uh, get the groceries?” It’s a pointless question; he was notified this morning when they were dropped off.

“Oh! I did! And I saw some chocolate…? And Doritos. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Jimin grins. “Nope. No clue.”

“Huh. Interesting. I could have sworn you’d added them in there. What are you trying to do, make me fall in love with you or something?”

Of course, the answer is yes. Can he say that, though?

Aren’t they supposed to be taking this slow? Why did nobody tell him that it would be this hard to do something so simple?

“Sorry...was that awkward?”

Jimin starts at the sound of Jolie’s voice, realizing that he never responded. “Er, no. Sorry, I was just thinking.” He chuckles awkwardly. “Is chocolate all it takes, then?”

He swears he can hear a gasp on the other side of the phone, but then again that may just be wishful thinking.

Either way, he temporarily throws caution to the wind. He knows he’s toeing the line, but he can’t find it in himself to back off. Not when he can hear Jolie’s soft laugh on the other side of the phone and wonders if she’s wearing that same smile he saw for a fraction of a second all those weeks ago.

“Well, it’s a good start. Obviously the chips were a bonus.”

“Ah, yeah. I thought those might be a nice touch.” He pauses. “Hey, are your flowers still doing good? Or are they dead?”

“I feel like I’m in danger of receiving more flowers if these ones are dead,” Jolie muses.

“Danger? Really?”

“You know you don’t have to keep me in constant supply of flowers, right? Besides, I’m planning on drying the ones I have now.”

“Consider it a present for making you stay inside for so long.”

Jolie hums on the other side, and Jimin finds himself nodding along to the sound. “About that...any updates? Do I have any more stalkers?”

Jimin shivers at the thought. He’s dealt with his fair share of stalkers over the years, he’s had quite enough of them. “Nothing yet, but we should know more by tonight at the latest. I’ll be sure to call you as soon as I know.”

It’s quiet on the other side, but Jimin allows some time for the quiet to settle. When he doesn’t get a response back for a while, he quietly speaks.

“Hey, you alright over there?”

There’s a long sigh, one that he thinks he wasn’t supposed to hear. “Mm? Oh, yeah. All good. You good?”

Jimin smiles. “All good.”

✂

House arrest doesn’t suit me. It’s going on day three, and I’ve found that the thrill of television isn’t what it used to be. Especially not as the pile of empty chocolate wrappers grow.

I told Jimin as much last night before I went to bed. I also accused him of trying to make me gain weight. He only cackled and told me he’d send over healthier foods in the morning.

I should have known it sounded too good to be true. This morning I checked my porch to see a suspicious grocery bag with bananas and apples on the top. Upon further inspection I found that the fruit was only a cover for what lay underneath.

Two more bags of assorted chocolates.

Oh, and a note that Jimin must have added for the deliverer which was left on the bag. It simply said: delivery request: please hide chocolate under the fruit.

“I can’t believe it.”

“Wow, so are we past saying hello when we call? I don’t know how I feel about that.”

I try to ignore how easy - how right - it feels to just grab my phone and call Jimin up. There are still a fair amount of nerves going into it, but over the past few days we’ve grown accustomed to it.

“You sent me more chocolate!”

“Buuut I countered it with fruit. Isn’t that good?”

I roll my eyes. “Sure, but the fact that you’re forcing me to practice self-restraint is absolutely horrible.

“Ah, I see. So next time I should just send the apples?”

“No…”

I find a comfortable spot on the couch, staring at the calendar before me. Staring at the date, with a little circle around it.

Nothing to celebrate today. But certainly something to remember.

Jimin’s rambling - he rambles, I’ve come to learn this - about his day and how they have an interview coming up this weekend, however I find that I’m struggling to listen. Especially as the calendar grows larger and larger in my eyes.

I wait until it’s dark to slip out.

With my pre-ordered train ticket shining on my phone, I keep my head down and my hood up as I rush to the station. At this time of night on a weekday, there aren’t nearly as many people about. That being said, it’s still Seoul. There are still plenty of people on the sidewalks, and I can only pray that they don’t notice my lack of a red thread amidst the sea of threads adorning the roads.

Thankfully, I make it to the station without much of an issue. It isn’t long before I’m settled and holding the dried hydrangeas close to my chest.

It isn’t a long ride to my hometown, only about twenty minutes by train. Throughout the entire time I remain on high alert, knowing that if I somehow wind up in trouble that Bighit may very well murder me in my sleep.

I watch as the train rolls to a stop at my destination, and I hurry off before anyone can notice me. Once I’m outside, I let out a sigh of relief.

It’s been too long.

One year, actually.

The cemetery isn’t far from the station, and I don’t dare risk a taxi. So, with my flowers still in hand, I begin my silent pilgrimage.

✂

Not much has changed here. I peeked the same family that runs the sweet shop I used to adore, constantly begging for just enough won for some sweets. The streets even look the same, only a few small changes here and there.

It’s the fact that this was my home but that I don’t quite belong here anymore that makes my feet all the heavier. When the cemetery finally comes into view, I take a deep breath and trudge onward.

Coming to a stop before a small tombstone, I groan and kneel before it. It was a longer walk than I remembered.

“Hey Mom,” I whisper, taking care to gently separate the bouquet in half and lay some flowers on either side. “Dad.” Once the flowers are in their proper places, I lean back on my hands.

“I’m not really supposed to be outside right now...but, I promised I’d visit every year, didn’t I?” I look expectantly at the tombstone, but receive no answer. The stone is cold and unwavering, but I find that I don’t mind. The moon is bright and full, shining down enough light to see clearly. “Well, I’m here. I would have brought you some fresh flowers but...well, things are a little complicated right now.”

Inhaling deeply, I chew on my bottom lip before exhaling. As I do, my vision blurs a bit with unshed tears. Finally, bringing my left hand forward, I look down at the severed thread.

“Mom, you wouldn’t know who he is, but I met my soulmate. Well, not officially, I guess. That’s where things get complicated. But I’m trying to fix it.” Looking heavenward, I watch the stars winking down at me. “Dad, you’ll know him. His name is Park Jimin.”

✂

“What do you mean she’s not home?”

Jimin is currently pacing in the living room, listening to Sunmi’s voice on speaker. The others sit in various spaces around the room, each mirroring a look of concern.

Sunmi had been cleared to head over to Jolie’s, which Jimin had deemed a tender mercy. He felt horrible for her, knowing that she was probably going crazy. So, Sunmi had gone over to surprise her.

Except there was one little problem.

“I’m telling you, she’s not here,” Sunmi responds, struggling to maintain her composure. “I got here about ten minutes ago and knocked, but all the lights were off and it looked like nobody was home. Nobody’s answering. She’s not here, and she won’t answer her phone.”

Jimin looks around the room in horror. Automatically his mind conjures up the worst-possible scenarios. “Where would she go? There’s no sign of a break-in, right?”

Chung-hei frowns on the other side of the room, pulling her phone out. “I’ll check her location right now,” she reassures.

“No, everything looks normal. Should I ask around? See if anyone’s seen her?”

“No, not yet. That will only raise suspicion.” Jimin says, watching with bated breath and Chung-hei tries to locate his soulmate.

When Chung-hei’s expression changes from confused worry to stunned understanding, Jimin isn’t sure how to react.

“What is it?” He asks, impatient.

“I didn’t realize,” Chung-hei mumbles. “What’s the date today?” She answers the question herself, confirming it. “She’s back home.”

“What do you mean? Sunmi just said-”

“No, not that home.” Chung-hei flips the phone around to show him. “It’s been a year. And she promised him she’d visit every year.”

It takes a moment for Jimin to process the information, already thinking about how quickly he can convince someone to tail him while he drives out to Jolie. She can get in the other car to return, obviously so she doesn’t have to see him-

“One year.” Jimin blinks, suddenly remembering what Jolie mentioned in her letter. “It’s the anniversary of her father’s passing.”

Chung-hei’s solemn nod is answer enough.

Jimin stumbles back to sit in the nearest chair, rubbing his hands over his face. “I need to go out there-”

“No, you know you can’t do that,” Namjoon immediately rejects.

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

Namjoon grinds his jaw, glancing at Chung-hei as the two share a silent conversation. When Namjoon’s shoulders relax, Jimin finds himself hoping. There’s no way he can leave Jolie to go through this alone.

“Bang Sihyuk will kill us if he finds out,” Namjoon begins.

“I don’t care-”

“I do.” Namjoon sighs. “So don’t get caught.”

Jimin blinks. “What?”

Namjoon shrugs, looking around the room. “Don’t get caught. Make it look like you snuck out.”

Leaping to his feet, Jimin hardly has time to grab his jacket before he’s flying out the door. “Send me the location!” He shouts out before the door closes.

He doesn’t know what possesses him as he sprints down the street, but he’s reminded of the last time he went running toward his soulmate.

This time, he knows that he’s been through the heartbreak. Surely he’s been through the worst of it. Now, all that’s on his mind is the fact that his soulmate is alone and she shouldn’t be.

He’s tired of being alone.

It’s been years since Jimin last took the train, but Chung-hei explains in her text containing Jolie’s location that it might be his best bet.

Without a second thought, Jimin boards the train and heads toward his soulmate.

✂

My eyelids are drooping, but the walk back to the train station seems daunting. “I need to get going,” I mumble.

My voice is a little hoarse from all the talking I’ve done over the past hour. Even in death, my parents can’t escape my rambling.

Not that I think they mind.

I rise to my feet, taking one last look at the flowers that my soulmate gifted me before leaving them there on the tombstone.

“Goodnight, Mom and Dad.”

Despite my exhaustion, I remember to walk briskly back toward the gas station. I keep my head down with my hands in my pocket.

My heart feels a little heavy tonight. I shoot a melancholy smile toward the stars, who act as my solitary companion tonight. I can’t shake the feeling that I would really rather not be alone tonight.

Nobody deserves to mourn alone.

My fingers itch to call Jimin or Christina or anybody, but I put it off. I had my phone on silent, and the last thing I needed was bringing attention to myself by talking loud enough for everyone to hear. If Jimin found out that I was out here…

He’d probably stop sending me chocolates. At the very least.

Yes, it would be best to wait until I’m home and in the warmth of my bed before calling him.

Like a dream, my feet carry me toward the train station. It’s downhill for the most part, making it easier than I thought it would be. A tender mercy, I suppose, for a day like today.

Thankfully, it’s late enough now that the station is empty for the most part. Only a few stragglers wander about, all of which are too tired to pay me any mind. However, as I near the ticket booth, I feel it.

Almost like something pulling on my thread. It’s a similar feeling to what I felt as the thread had been cut, but there’s no reason for it to be acting up again.

“That’ll be 26,000 won,” the person on the other side of the booth drawls, looking for all the world like they’d rather walk across hot coals then have to spend another moment here.

“Oh, right.” I pull the money from my wallet, sliding it under the little window. “Sorry about that, I got distracted-”

“Here ya go,” they interrupt, clearly not very interested in what was distracting me. All the better, I suppose.

Thanking them, I pocket the ticket and make my way to a bench before the platform. The train should be here in about fifteen minutes.

But there’s that annoying tug again, nearly pulling my hand off my lap. I frown down at the thread, too tired to put that much thought into it. I’ll have to ask Christina if she’s ever known a thread to act up.

There’s a cold draft in the station, one that only gets worse as an incoming train pulls up and comes to a stop. I keep my head down as the doors open and people begin to file out.

At least, I try to until I’m practically thrown off my seat as my thread pushes and pulls at me. It’s starting to cause a scene, so I hurry off to the side and half-hide behind a pillar. Hopefully nobody will question why I gave up my perfectly nice seat.

Burying my hand in my pocket, I look around to make sure nobody is coming my way when my eyes catch on something- or rather, a lack of something.

Someone walks off the train, however the typical red thread doesn’t accompany them.

That’s not the only thing that alarms me. It’s the fact that I know them.

Park Jimin glides off of the train and looks around, trying to deduce which exit to take. He pulls his phone out to look at something when he drops it due to a sudden jolt.

I watch, utterly paralyzed as he stumbles forward. Almost as though pulled by some invisible thread.

His eyes are wide and he’s practically buried under the large, puffy jacket he wears. It’s brown, to match his brown hair, which is ridiculously ruffled. He’s chewing on the inside of his lips as he lifts his head to look around yet again.

From across the station, our eyes meet. Slowly, so slowly it burns, I see the recognition register in his eyes as he trails from my face down to my left hand and back up to my eyes again.

Jimin freezes, and I realize that it isn’t because he’s afraid or nervous.

This is my choice to make. Even now, after all that’s happened, he still allows me to choose.

So, with a tentative step forward quickly followed by another, I choose him.

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morningfears · 3 years

Text

Hiking

Rating: PG-13 (Language, mostly)

Summary: College!Luke and hiking for the 10k celebration.

Word Count: 2.1k (...this was supposed to be a drabble, whoops)

“Tell me why we’re doing this again.”

You listened to the crunch of gravel beneath Luke’s feet, a signal that he was rounding the car to meet you at the trunk, and bit back a laugh as you reached for the extra water bottle you’d packed because you knew that he was going to forget his own. He’d been whining since you picked him up, a pout on his lips and sunglasses perched on his nose, and you knew that he’d stop the moment you truly got annoyed with him.

For now, though, you were enjoying making fun of him just as much as he was whining.

“It was my turn to pick our activity. I like to hike.” You pressed the bottle into his hands, a saccharine smile on your lips, before you closed the trunk and shrugged. “I also like to see you miserable.”

He turned his head toward you, bright blue eyes hidden by the sunglasses he’d snagged from you years ago, and scowled. “You owe me pancakes for this. It’s so early.”

“It’s nearly ten, Luke.” He waved a hand dismissively when you scoffed, unashamed of his status as the late riser in your friendship, and leaned against the car to take a sip of his water. “Don’t drink too much. If you puke on me, I will murder you. No one will find your body up here.”

Luke snorted at that, his hands moving to tighten the cap on his water bottle before he waved them at the nearly full parking area. “There are literally fifty other people on this trail right now. Someone would find me.”

“Shut up and start moving, yeah?”

Luke breathed an exaggerated sigh and made a show of dragging his feet, sending dust and rocks flying in his wake, but followed you toward the trail. He was joking - that much he made clear when he cracked a grin at your laughter - and you knew that he had no intentions of making the hike miserable for either of you. He was annoyed to be awake so early on his only day off but there was no one he’d rather spend the day with.

And, besides, it wasn’t the first time he’d gone hiking with you.

The first time Luke went hiking with you, you were both freshmen in college and equally shy. You were a friend of a friend of a friend - Ashton was dating your roommate’s older sister - and had somehow gotten roped into going hiking with the group of them. It was Ashton’s idea, to drag all of you out to the middle of nowhere right before fall break, and Luke had only tagged along because Calum and Michael dragged him.

While you weren’t exactly the most social of the bunch, it was clear that you and Ashton were the only ones who’d actually hiked before. Whereas everyone else showed up in black, wearing various old band t-shirts and, in Michael’s bad judgement and mildly hungover case, jeans, the two of you wore actual gym gear and appropriate shoes.

Luke quickly fell to the back of the pack, happy to be away from the chatter and the attention as he struggled up the mountain, and somewhere along the trip, you fell back with him. He knew that you were capable of beating them all up the mountain - and probably back down, if he had to wager a guess - but you kept pace with him and never even made a face at the sweat that made his t-shirt stick to his skin.

You were halfway up the mountain before either of you spoke - to everyone’s surprise, it was him; he complimented the All Time Low sticker on your water bottle - but it seemed as if neither of you knew how to shut up after that moment.

Your friendship formed quickly, bolstered by your commonalities and strengthened by your differences. If you weren’t in class or at work, you were at Luke’s. And if you weren’t there, the pair of you could usually be found elsewhere together.

When he moved into a frat house and you moved into an apartment, nothing changed. The brothers knew you, just as your roommates knew him, but your nearly nightly outings - to diners, to the movies, to the mall, to the park near campus - shifted to once a week activities that you took turns planning once you both delved deeper into your respective majors.

Luke was your best friend, just as you were his, and you were grateful for the strange hike that brought him into your life. That was, however, to everyone’s surprise, all that you were.

You had a small crush on Luke when you met - even drenched in sweat and struggling to keep himself upright, trudging up the side of a mountain he was cute - but the more you got to know him, the greater your crush grew. He was everything you’d always wanted, all wrapped in an adorable package, but you told yourself early on that you weren’t going to push; whatever happened with Luke, happened.

You knew, deep down, that Luke felt the same. You saw the way that he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking. You saw the way he blushed when you complimented him or the way he grew flustered whenever anyone pointed out how cute the two of you would be together. Neither of you hid your feelings well but you were content to see where things went.

You always said that you’d rather have him in your life as just a friend than not at all.

Your line of thinking had recently undergone a bit of a shift. You were both approaching your senior year; two semesters away from the great unknown. Luke had plans to stay in the city and work for a record company. You were weighing your options to continue your education and considering leaving to give life elsewhere a shot.

It hurt, thinking that you’d be separated from Luke after so long of him being your only constant, but you knew that you either needed to make a move or move on.

“Alright, you haven’t said a word in almost a mile. Stop thinking, start talking.”

Luke’s words, said through huffs of air forced past his lips, broke you from your thoughts and you blinked when you noticed just how far down the trail you’d made it. You were glad you’d chosen one so familiar - the one you hiked the first time you met and found yourself returning to, time and time again - as you’d mostly relied on muscle memory to make it this far.

“Nothing to talk about. Just stressing over that Media Law final. Baker’s a dickhead and is going to make it unnecessarily difficult.” You knew that you should tell Luke the truth, spill your worries as you normally did, but you couldn’t force the words out.

It was easier this way, to continue on as you had for the past few years, and pretend that the heartache blossoming in your chest wasn’t real.

“Bullshit.” Luke stopped, nudged you to the side of the trail to let others pass, and met your eyes to search them. “That was your sad face. Baker gets the mad face. What’s up? You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“Of course I do, Luke.” The words fell past your lips readily, confident and clear, because you knew that. You knew that you could talk to Luke about absolutely anything and he would be there to listen. You knew that he’d never judge or laugh, not if it was a serious discussion, and that helped calm the raging sea of emotions in the pit of your stomach.

But nothing could quell the ache that settled in your bones when he looked at you the way he was.

He had a habit of looking at you like you were the one who hung the stars and moon. His eyes, usually unfocused as he zoned out, were clear and bright and shining with an admiration that rolled off him in waves. Whenever he looked at you like that, right in the eye, he always had a hand on you in some way. This time, he had one hand on your shoulder and the other cupping your cheek.

“What happens next May?”

Luke blinked, confused by the question. “Next May? After graduation?” When you nodded, your eyes flicking between his own and the sand beneath your feet, he shifted his weight and nodded slowly. “I’m staying here and you… You’re going to do something amazing. You might stay here, you might move to fucking Siberia. But whatever you do, you’re going to do it well because that’s just the kind of person you are, honey. You can’t half-ass anything, even if you try.”

Luke grinned when that got a small laugh but it was quickly replaced with a frown when you shook your head. “That’s not what I meant.” You trailed off, almost embarrassed to ask, before the words escaped your lips in a near whisper. “What happens to us?”

That was a question Luke had long considered. He, too, wondered what would happen to you both as you moved into the working world and farther away from one another. He wondered what would happen if you left the city. He wondered how he would continue on without seeing you every day.

And he realized that he didn’t want that.

“We’ll still be us,” he answered finally, his voice just as quiet as yours had been. “We’ll see each other every minute we can and if you decide to go somewhere else, we’ll FaceTime so much that we might as well just livestream our lives to each other. If you leave, I’ll come visit whenever I can and you know you’ll always have a place to stay with me if you want to come back. Nothing will change for us after graduation because I love you and I won’t let it.”

Before you could speak, before you could ask him if he really believed that was possible, Luke continued speaking.

“You know that I mean that in every sense of the word. You’re my best friend and I love you but you know that I also love you with a capital ‘L’. Being friends with you is something I’d never change but I don’t want to spend our last guaranteed year together wondering what could be. I don’t want to just dream about kissing you, I want to actually kiss you. I want to wake up to you asking me to go hiking and kiss you to convince you to stay in bed. I want to hold your hand and wake up beside you every morning. I want to be the annoying couple everyone already thinks we are because it’s us. And it always has been.”

It felt as if a weight was lifted from your chest as Luke rambled, words spilling past his lips in a rush. He was passionate, certain, and braver than you ever could be. He took the first step, just when you were beginning to think neither of you would ever make it there, and the only way you could think to respond was with a kiss.

Pressing your lips to Luke’s didn’t send fireworks erupting across the sky nor did it feel as if the earth was going to shatter at your feet. It did, however, feel as if you were exactly where you were meant to be. You were wrapped in his arms, hands tangled in his curls, and nothing had ever felt more right.

You were upset that you’d wasted so much time, waiting for life to just happen. But, as you pulled away and rested your forehead against Luke’s, you decided that nothing else mattered anymore. The future, the one where you and Luke existed and everything else came as it would, was all that mattered.

Luke, with his bright grin and flushed cheeks, grabbed your hand and began tugging you back the way you’d come. With a laugh, you dug your heels into the ground and shook your head. “Nope. Finish hike first. Then, we go to my place and shower.”

“You’re going to make your boyfriend hike two more miles?”

“For every half mile you finish, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Make it every quarter and I get to touch your butt.”

“Shut up and start hiking, Hemmings.”

With another grin in your direction, Luke returned his sunglasses to the bridge of his nose and kept his hand in yours as he tugged you along down the path. In the future, there would be more hikes and more kisses.

And neither of you could wait.

___________________________________

Author’s Note: ....there’s not as much hiking in this as I wanted but I got started and it, uh, had a mind of its own. Anyway, two fics in like a week? Who am I?

#luke hemmings imagine #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #luke hemmings imagines #5 seconds of summer imagine #luke hemmings x reader #5sos x reader #mine

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kyuuppi · 4 years

Text

Fruit Salad (NSFW)

Pairing: Orihara Izaya x Reader ( ♀ )

Genre: SMUT, a lot of subtle fluff cause Izaya is my husbando and I love him

⚠️WARNING⚠️ Oh boy... food play, object insertion, light dirty talk, maybe some degradation?, kitchen sex, fingering, really messy oral, light nipple play, biting, spit play, slightly insecure reader, unfortunately Izaya does not get nakey :(

WC: 4.4k

Izaya hums to himself as he moves around the room with purpose, seeming to have already mentally planned at least ten steps ahead of each action he takes--the antithesis to your own frazzled, jerky movements as your flit between various cardboard boxes, unable to recall the contents of a single one without reading the haphazard black sharpie words etched on the sides. You feel frustration well within you as you realize you are not even halfway done with unpacking the bedroom after nearly two hours.

‘Why the hell do I have so many clothes when I wear the same three sweatshirts every week!’

Glancing over at Izaya’s side of the room you can’t help but feel envious at his few, neatly organized boxes he seems to instinctively know the contents of. All of his clothing seems to fit in a single large box, the bulk of his belongings being various computer hardware and other communication devices that he handles with care.

As per usual, he seems to have a sixth sense for knowing exactly what you’re thinking and his head lifts from the short stack of books in his hands to meet your annoyed gaze with a taunting grin.

“It’s rude to stare, y’know.”

You tear your eyes away from his form with a scoff, a self of hopelessness coming over your form when your eyes land on yet another box mockingly labelled “clothes.” Three months ago, when Izaya had suggested the two of you move in together as your lease at your previous place was coming to an end, you had been ecstatic, to say the least. In the midst of your twenties it is easy to compare yourself to others you deemed more successful and established and you were starting to feel your minimum wage job and shabby apartment complex, filled with mostly rowdy college freshmen with a few grumpy elderly cat ladies sprinkled in, was holding you back. Moving into a fancy new apartment you could never even dream of affording by yourself and with your handsome boyfriend of two years no less--now that is how succeeding in life really looks, right? You were excited to open a new chapter of your life but now, as you stand in the middle of an unfamiliar living room with at least thirty boxes scattered around and the beginnings of hunger pains settling in the pits of your stomach from skipping breakfast, you aren’t so sure.

The beginnings of your internal self-pity rants are interrupted by the familiar childish lilt of Izaya’s voice as he approaches one of the larger boxes by your side.

“My, my...it seems my favorite little human needs some help,” he teases, easily cutting through the messy layers of packing tape with one of his numerous pocket knives he seems to always have.

In the corner of your eye you recognize one of the colorful lumps that springs from the opened box as a childhood Gudetama plush you had all but forgotten you owned. It likely lived most of the past four years in the back corner of your closet, to be honest.

Izaya’s offer immediately relieves some of the pressure from your shoulders and you find yourself growing warm at his display of genuine kindness. At times like these it is difficult to imagine Izaya as the sadistic monster most of Ikebukuro makes him out to be--

“I wonder if I’ll find something naughty in one of these boxes~”

Nevermind. He is definitely a monster.

You use all of your strength to jab his arm in retaliation, your face feeling hot as you sputter out that you don’t have any “naughty” belongings, thank you very much! He only laughs manically, completely unfazed by your physical attack as he makes his way to your new shared bedroom to put your unnecessarily large collection of plushies away.

Having some of your burdens removed you feel much more clear headed and decide to get started on putting the dishes away so the two of you could at least have silverware for the takeout you’ll inevitably be ordering soon. Having spent a great deal of time in a few of Izaya’s apartments over the past few years, you already have an idea of where he keeps certain things and you try to make a conscious effort to satisfy the both of you with locations you think make the most sense. Pretty soon, the repetitive actions of putting forks in draws and plates in cupboards becomes second nature and you find yourself zoning out as you work, oblivious to Izaya’s own labors in the other room until his voice once again breaks the relative silence of the apartment.

“What’s in this box?” Izaya asks innocently as he approaches the kitchen you’re in.

You turn your head to look at what he is referring to, unsurprised to find him already peering inside the flaps of the bright pink box he had just opened. It would be more surprising to you if he hadn’t opened the box. As an information broker and a naturally curious person in general, Izaya has a habit of checking things himself rather than waiting for someone to tell him what he wants to hear. You suppose in his field he is used to people attempting to lie to protect themselves anyway but the first few months of having your boyfriend casually invading every aspect of your privacy were overwhelming, to say the least. Rather than reaching a compromise (Izaya didn’t exactly do compromises), you grew used to it and no longer felt scandalized if you saw him shamelessly scrolling through your cell phone you had just changed the pass code to or bringing up a topic you had only talked about once before with a close friend. His actions had good intentions behind them...usually.

You recognize the pink box immediately and can’t help but to smile fondly at the memory.

“Ah, my mom dropped that off when she came to visit a few weeks ago. She said it's a housewarming gift. I haven’t gotten around to opening it though,” you answer, watching as he pulls out a few items and placing them on the breakfast bar between you two.

The first few objects are what you would expect, a few overpriced scented candles and a plush blanket in your favorite color. It is one of the last few items Izaya pulls out that has your mouth falling slack with shock and his own expression morphing from confusion to pure glee. Dangled from his right hand is an atrociously bright colored pack of small, uniform circles surrounded by clear plastic squares adorning matching colored cartoon fruits drawn on each.

Condoms...fruit flavored condoms.

You silently pray the group will just open up and swallow you whole as Izaya carelessly tosses the box to the side to turn all of his attention on the pack in his hands, excitedly assessing each of the options. While of course you are no stranger to sex, Izaya had a healthy libido afterall, it was generally a small, undisclosed part of your relationship together. When the moment struck it would happen, generally very vanilla with the occasional teasing remarks or dirty talk via Izaya, but afterwards neither of you ever talked about it or brought it up. But...now that you two would be living together...would it happen more often? Your cheeks instantly heat up in mortification at where your own perverted train of thought was rapidly heading.

“Which do you think we should try first, y/n-chan?” your boyfriend casually asks, eying the bright yellow pineapple flavor.

You nearly choke on your own spit.

“Wh-wha...Izaya, we need to get back to unpacking! P-put those away already,” you stutter out, stepping forward in an attempt to grab the pack from his hands, missing when he easily side-steps you and instead grabs your arm to pull you closer to his warm body. Your brain nearly short circuits when he leans forward to your left ear, hot breath leaving goosebumps along your neck as he murmurs.

“It’s important to take breaks, y’know,” he suggests calmly, like a doctor placating a panicked patient.

It works infuriatingly well and you find your whole body feeling like gelatin as you subconsciously relax in his hold.

“You like strawberries, right, y/n-chan~?”

You nod dumbly, thoughts too scattered to even think about what he’s really asking when his soft lips are just barely brushing the tip of your ear before his teeth offer a little nip that has your whole body shuddering. You’re brought back to your senses when you feel the arms he had snaked around your waist contract and pull up, gently placing you on top of the kitchen island.

“W-wait, we should go to the bedroom.”

Izaya seems unperturbed, fiddling with something behind you as his lips leave a trail of searing kisses along your neck. He doesn’t make a move to acknowledge your suggestion until you place your hands on his shoulders and attempt to push him off of you, at which he naturally doesn’t budge a single centimeter.

“Hmm? I’m in the kitchen because I’m going to eat something--I don’t see the problem.”

Something in the pit of your stomach flutters at the implication and you can’t find it in yourself to argue further. He disconnects from your neck and takes a step back only to tug at the bottom of your top. You raise your arms obediently, the action almost instinctive at this point, and he pulls your shirt off of your body, wasting no time removing your bra immediately afterwards. You immediately shiver at the sudden cold and would have moved your arms in front of your chest in embarrassment at how the brightly lit kitchen in midday leaves you feeling more exposed than usual but Izaya moves quickly and his lips are already back on your neck before you can ever react. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed a bowl of fruits next to you that you didn’t remember being there before. You think nothing of it and let your eyes flutter closed when Izaya’s lips finally find your right nipple, sucking the nub into his hot mouth without hesitation, making your spine tingle. Your hands move up to clutch his dark locks, desperate for something to keep you grounded but the action only spurs him on further and he lets out a soft groan as he swirls his tongue around before scrapping the sensitive flesh with his teeth. You yelp when he sucks harshly, back arching away only for his hands to keep your firmly in place. He pulls back, releasing the nipple with a small pop before he moves his attention to it’s twin. You feel lightheaded with the contrast of cold air nipping at the rapidly cooling saliva on your right nipple while the left one is subjected to the blazing heat of Izaya’s mouth.

His right hand remains secured on the small of your back while the left first around to tease the nipple not in his mouth, mimicking the actions of his tongue with his fingers as he rolls the hardened bud in tight circles before pinching which his teeth nip. Your thighs rub together as you feel wetness pool in your underwear and you briefly wonder if it's possible to reach an orgasm with nipple stimulation alone.

Before you can find out firsthand, Izaya releases both of your nipples and pulls back. You can’t help the small whine that escapes your lips at the loss when both nipples now feel cold and achy. He giggles at that, the gleam in his vermillion eyes seeming dangerous.

“Don’t worry, princess, Izaya-sama will take good care of you~” he childishly promises, a stark contrast to the nimble fingers now unbuttoning your shorts before gently pushing your shoulder back until you lay flat on the marble counter. The surface is cold and hard, uncomfortable on your back, but the heat between your legs takes priority over all other discomforts. You waste no time lifting your hips so he can slide the fabric of your shorts and panties down your legs at once, all usual inhibitions seemingly lost when your head feels so fuzzy.

Izaya’s large hands firmly plant themselves on each of your knees and spread them apart slowly, like he’s opening his own personal Christmas present, until your heels are pressed into the edge of the counter. You can feel the cold air on your folds and know you must be absolutely soaked but you can’t resist chancing a glance up at Izaya’s expression.

Big mistake.

You can see the hunger in his eyes as his gaze is glued to the space between your thighs, licking his own lips in anticipation. Your core clenches at the sight and you feel more slick leaking out of your hole. His eyes follow the movement before he glances up at your flushed face and offers a knowing smirk. You think your soul just left your body.

His left hand slides down from your knee to your inner thigh, thumb resting right at the junction between your leg and pelvis right his right hand moves directly to your folds, two fingers gliding easily along the slick lips before reaching your clit, causing your whole body to jerk at the light contact.

He rubs circles around your clit through the hood until whines and soft moans are spilling your lips, his other hand teasing your folds with just his thumb. All movement stops abruptly and he pulls his hands away but before you can even mourn the loss of stimulation, his thumbs are hooked into each side of your folds and pulling your cunt open before he’s ducking his head down and swiping his tongue along the wetness. The moan that leaves your throat sounds nearly pornographic but you find it difficult to care when the tip of his wet tongue moves up to flick at your clit a few times before sliding back down and circling your small hole.

Izaya is neat and organized in all other aspects of his life but every time he eats your pussy it’s absolutely messy. Rather than lapping up your wetness he drools around his own tongue, making it ever wetter until every movement releases obscene clicks and sloshing sounds. He pulls back only a few centimeters, retracting his tongue back into his mouth for a second. You watch with morbid fascination as he collects the saliva in his mouth only to purse his lips over your pussy and let the liquid slowly drip down directly into your twitching hole. It feels dirty, it is dirty, but you can’t deny the flutter in your gut and the way your core absolutely pulses in pleasure as you audibly whimper. He keeps you spread open as his tongue delves back in, thrusting in and out of you before returning to your engorged clit. His right hand releases its hold only to push his middle finger inside of you, an easy glide with excess liquids dripping down to the counter by now. With each inwards thrust his finger curls upwards, stabbing a part of your fleshy insides that make your vision bloom until the kitchen lights above you are starbursts and everything is swimming.

The next time he pulls his middle finger out he presses his ring finger beside it and both are pressing into you, providing the slight sting of a stretch that has you keening while your cunt eagerly accepts them. His lips wrap around your clit to harshly suck as his two fingers press into that same spongy part and you’re seeing stars. You feel a familiar pressure in the pits of your belly, building bigger and bigger with each thrust of his fingers and scrape of his teeth against your clit. You’re going to cum soon.

“I-ngh--Izaya,” you whimper out, struggling to form the words you need to express your warning.

It is pointless really, Izaya is already exceptional at reading body language, even more so yours. He only hums in acknowledgement, the vibrations further stimulating your clit and making you press your hips forwards, seeking more as you draw closer and closer to the finish line. Every muscle in your body seems to contract as you feel it coming, tensing up in preparation for the impending release.

That’s when he decides to pull away.

You aren’t sure whether to cry or punch him in the face when you feel your incoming climax completely disappear, leaving your clit still throbbing and your hole empty, hopelessly clenching and unclenching around nothing. Your eyes open to give him the strongest glare you can muster only for him to not even be looking at you, instead fiddling with something you can’t see from your angle. You open your mouth, ready to curse him out until the words die in your throat as you watch him bring the fingers of high right hand that were just inside of you to his own mouth, casually licking them clean. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“Hmm...ah, this one is perfect.”

Your brows furrow in confusion as he seems to make up his mind about something. You move to sit up but he’s already back between your legs, grinning down at you as if he hadn’t just robbed you of an orgasm.

His left thumb slides back to your clit, making you shudder as a flame seems to rekindle inside of you. He wastes no time to set a fast pace rubbing your clit, quickly bringing you back close to where you were before but not quite. Then you feel something blunt pressed against your whole, much larger than any of his fingers. For a moment you think it might be his cock but you don’t recall seeing him unbuckle his pants at any point and the cool temperature is nothing like his familiar heat.

The object is circled around your hole and you notice it feels really smooth...like latex.

“Wh-what is that,” you ask nervously. The two of you haven't used toys before and you don’t recall him ever mentioning owning any.

His grin widens, seeming amused by your apprehension.

“You wanted to try strawberry, right? Well, I prefer bananas so why not both.”

You scramble to sit up and nearly have a heart attack when you see the curved yellow object wrapped in neon pink pressed against your pussy.

“Izaya, th-thats…!”

“Strawberry and banana--its like a smoothie~,” he explains proudly.

A sudden pinch on your clit has your arms faltering and makes you fall back, yelping as your back reconnects with the marble.

“Now be a good girl, yeah? I need to take care of this poor pussy.”

You choke on your own saliva as he presses the covered tip of the thick fruit into you, slowly stretching your hole open with a sharp sting.

“It’s just begging to be filled,” he croons.

You feel the stretch of each centimeter as he pushes it in but Izaya is relentless and doesn’t let up on the pressure until the tip bumps into your cervix and your muscles are spasming uncontrollably as your mouth opens in a silent scream.

“It’s...big,” you stutter out dumbly, hardly even aware you’re speaking out loud.

Izaya feigns an innocently concerned expression as his left thumb continues to rub circles into your clit.

“Ehh~? Then we’ll have to make sure we stretch you open properly ‘cause my cock is even bigger.”

You instinctively clench as you feel him pulling it out slowly, never fully removing it before he’s pushing it back in. The residual wetness from earlier makes a resounding squelch every time he pushes it back in that has your cheeks burning in shame.

With each thrust the stretch stings less and less, aided by his teasing on your clit never faltering, and instead you feel the familiar pleasure of having something thrusting inside of you, rubbing against your slick walls. The natural curve of the fruit forces the tip to hook into a spot just before your cervix then dragging along the top of your walls as it’s pulled out only to repeat the motion. That same pressure in your lower belly returns but a little stronger and you think if Izaya denies your orgasm this time you might actually die.

Izaya however, does not offer any indications that he plans to do so and instead moves his left hand from your cit to push your right thigh higher, your knee nearly touching your chest, so he has room to lean down use his tongue instead, right hand still continuing to fuck the banana into you, gradually quickening his pace until it feels punishing and its almost too much. The battering of the tip against your cervix has your body trying to pull away but Izaya’s hand keeps you firmly in place, forcing you to accept whatever he gives you.

It’s when he uses his teeth to lightly nibble on your bud while simultaneously shifting the angle of fruit that your climax rips through your body, setting every nerve ending in your body on fire and rendering your eyes useless as white blinds your vision. Your mouth is open and sounds are coming out but you yourself can’t even process what you’re saying. Izaya continues his assault with vigor, making you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before the come down has you too sensitive and using what little remains of your strength to kick him away and attempt to close your legs.

You hardly have the strength to deny him of anything on a good day, let alone after an intense orgasm, but he seems to be feeling generous enough to stop when you say it's too much. He pulls his head away from between your thighs and you try to ignore the glistening juices dripping down the corners of his mouth and smeared on his chin as he slowly removes the banana from your fluttering pussy. You feel empty again and you can literally feel your stretched hole gaping, leaving you feeling embarrassed. Izaya dips down suddenly to press a single peck to your clit. You whine softly in over-sensitivity but the unexpectedly sweet gesture makes your chest feel warm.

As you attempt to catch your breath, Izaya moves away again, removing the sticky condom from the fruit and throwing it in the trash bin before placing the equally sticky banana back on the counter next to the fruit bowl. You’re about to make a complaint when he moves back to your side, smirking at your disheveled state and picking you up, one hand behind your back and the other beneath your knees, to carry you to the bedroom.

He places you on the freshly made sheets gingerly, your body immediately sinking into the plush mattress like a puddle. He leaves the room only to return a few seconds later with a plastic bottle of water and a paper pamphlet you recognize as the menu to one of your favorite takeout restaurants. Your brows furrow in confusion as he takes a seat next to you on the bed, silently skimming through the menu, undoubtedly already knowing what both of you will order.

Despite the heaviness in your lids and bonelessness of your body, you sit up to question the man.

“Izaya?”

His eyes shift over to you in question, his expression dangerously mischievous yet unreadable as usual.

“Aren’t you...don’t you need to, like...get off?” you cringe at how awkward and undeniably unsexy your words sound and you can see the mirth in his gaze but he decides to spare you the teasing for now.

“Aww, my little human is so eager to please her god~” he lilts.

You roll your eyes in response before squealing when he pulls you into his arms, forcing you both to lie back down on the bed, entangled in his arms while he teasing blows a puff of air in your left ear just to watch you squirm as you try to get away.

“Don’t worry, y/n-chan, I’m satisfied just watching you.”

Your chest swells and your annoyed expression melts into a small smile at the implication that he cared more about your own pleasure and exhaustion than his own needs--

“I never would have thought you’d enjoy getting fucked by a fruit so much~! Next time should we try a cucumber?”

You have zero regrets when you punch him in the chest.

#izaya x reader #durarara #durarara imagine #durarara scenario #izaya imagine #izaya scenario #reader insert #smut #durarara smut #izaya smut #durarara x reader #anime imagine #anime scenario #anime fic #durarara fic #forgive me lord for i have sinned #I just want Izaya to eat my pssy like that :(

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that-sarcastic-writer · 4 years

Text

Overprotective- Spencer Reid X Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Young!Reader

Request by @ghostofmags : can we get a spencer imagine where the reader is younger and he likes to think he has to protect her because she also is very smol :) thanks

Warnings: cursing, like lots of it, angst, relationship problems, specified female reader, fluff at the end

WC: 1.7k

Tag list

A/N: little note here, so when I read younger I thought ten or so years younger. So Spencer is let's say 38 or 39 (pretty much his actual age) and reader is about 28. Also, I might mention the fact that reader is shorter than Spencer, because that's what it says on the request, it's not a big deal, but I'm saying anyways in case someone doesn't like that. But honestly idrk if this is what you wanted? But, here it is, I'm so sorry if this isn't what you wanted

You hadn't exchanged a word since you landed. There was so much tension radiating between you and Spencer you could cut it slick with a knife. And it wasn't because you didn't have anything to say. God no. You had so much to say you felt like you were going to explode. But you were professional and you didn't want to make a scene in front of the team. So you waited until you were at the privacy of your shared apartment to make a scene. And the moment you heard Spencer shut the front door behind him, you started yelling.

"I can't fucking believe you, Spencer!" You yelled at the Doctor, your voice just echoing on the walls.

Needless to say, Spencer was not in the mood, nor had the energy to deal with you right now. The case the team had been working on was a particularly long and difficult one and he was exhausted. He let out a long and exasperated sigh, running a hand through his brown curls, mentally preparing himself to deal with you, "can we not do this right now? I'm exhausted, I really don't want to fight." He pretty much begged, sounding exhausted beyond relief. In a different situation, you would've been more reasonable, more understanding and you would've let it go. But this time, it just became too much, you were too angry and too frustrated with him to let it go.

"Oh no, we're doing this right now. You're gonna listen to everything I have to say." You said almost sternly, crossing your arms over your chest. You were just trying not to snap, you really were trying. But the response he gave you wasn't helping, at all.

He sighed again and closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead before speaking, "look, you can yell at me all you want. Tomorrow. I'm really not in the mood to deal with this right now." He half rolled his eyes and sighed, starting to walk away. Probably not the wisest choice.

You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he started to walk away, your lips pursing together irritatingly, "Spencer, don't walk away or I swear to God." You pretty much growled, your words coming out harsher than you intended to and a hand came to grab his forearm, making him stop dead on his tracks. You could've sworn you heard him mutter under his breath as he took a few steps back until you let his arm go.

"What." Was his only response, his tone absolutely stripped of emotion and care, and he held an equally blank face expression. It took all of your will power not to strangle him right there and then.

"Don't fucking what me, Spencer. I'm fucking tired of you treating me like a goddamn child!" You shouted at him, hands coming up in the air as you shouted angry words at the tall brunette. Who's only response was an unamused expression and a roll of eyes. "See what I mean? You're always undermining me and you never take me seriously. You always talk for me, you refuse to let me talk to unsubs alone, I always have to be on the field with you. And that's if I even get to go out on the field in the first place, because you make sure to make me stay back every chance you get!" You continued to shout, letting out every frustration you've bottled up for the past two years you've been dating Spencer.

All the while, Spencer stood there silently, taking all your screams quietly. He was usually rather calm and collected during your part of a fight, and he'd listen, quietly. And that was just worse than screaming at you from the get go, because that meant you were going to get a mouthful when you were done. He was like the calm before the storm. And you definitely didn't want to be around when that storm finally came by.

"Spencer, you can't just keep me out of the field like that whenever you fucking please. I may be younger than you, but that doesn't mean I'm less capable of doing my job than you are. And I just wish you would stop treating me like a child, who needs to be under your protection twenty-four-seven because I don't." You finally finished your rant, your voice lowering down by the end of it. But you were still just as agitated and frustrated. You were basically all up in his face by the time you were done. Well, all up in his chest, because you barely made it to his chin. Meaning, you had to tilt your head up as much as you could to look at him, and even then, you stood short.

The entire time you spoke, Spencer kept his gaze forward, way past your head, not even bothering you to look down at you. Until he decided to speak. "You done?" He finally looked down at you, his lips pursed into an irritated expression. You crossed your arms over your chest and shrugged as a response. "Great. Now that you're done unnecessarily screaming at my face, we can talk like the adult you claim to be." He started, already pushing at your buttons even more. "You see, I would treat you like an adult, I really would, I would if you acted like one. Maybe if you weren't so short fused, or if you actually showed me you can handle things on your own I wouldn't feel the need to have to protect you all the time."

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you listened to him continue to undermine you. Maybe having this conversation after a week long case and a five hour flight wasn't exactly ideal. Spencer can be more harsh and— with a lack of a better word— more of an ass during arguments when tired and annoyed. And you figured, you were getting nowhere screaming at him. He didn't respond well to that.

"I'm an adult, Spencer, I'm damn near thirty years old, I don't need your protection." You defended, puffing out a small breath through your nose, "and I get that I still may be younger than you but I'm not your daughter, I don't need you watching over my shoulder all the time, shielding me from the dangers of the world. And I just wish you stopped treating like some helpless child that needs your protection." You said, your tone changing from angry to tired and hurt. Because as much as you hated to admit it, every time Spencer treated you like you weren't capable of taking care of yourself, it made you feel just as such.

Spencer stayed silent for a good minute, his previously cold and hard expression of annoyance starting to slowly soften. He let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand into his curls but still said nothing.

You sighed, shaking your head before turning around to walk away, knowing this conversation was going nowhere. Spencer took that as his cue to do something. "Hey, no, come here." He sighed, reaching to grab a hold of your arm like you did his earlier. And you stopped when you felt his grip of your arm, half turning your body to face him and simply let him slowly drag you back, not fighting but not welcoming him either. You looked up at him with a deep frown and pursed lips, your arms folded over your chest, letting him know you weren't letting your walls down so easily.

"I know you're not my daughter. I never said you were." He starts to say, carefully grabbing your face into his significantly larger hands and looked down at you with his usually soft amber eyes, "but you're my girlfriend, and I love you. And I don't know if I could ever live with the idea of losing the love of my life again. That's why I'm so protective of you all the time."

You let out a small breath, your demeanor starting to change into a more calm and relaxed one the moment he grabbed your face. You slowly relaxed your body, eventually dropping your arms to your sides and your expression half softened.

You always knew Spencer was scared of losing the people he loved, god knows he has, but something about hearing him say that broke your heart and it made you want to understand him, "Spencer, I know. And I get it, I really do. But you can't just keep me from doing my job just because you want to protect me. I'm not any less capable at taking care of myself than you are just because I'm younger and it really hurts that you think I can't take of myself."

"I know and I'm sorry. But can you blame? You're just so—" he lightly squeezed your face in his hands, finding amusement in how small you looked from his perspective, having to tilt his head down to look at him and even tower over you sometimes. "I could easily pin you down or throw you over my shoulder. I mean, look how small and cute you are, you really blame for trying to protect you all the time?" He laughed softly, going back to his cute and more playful demeanor you loved so much, wanting apologize for his previous words and behavior in a way he knew would work better on you than an apology.

Though you still laughed at his words, they still earned him a glare and a hard smack on the chest, "I may be small and short but I can still kick your ass faster than you can name kidnapping statistics so don't even test me." You said matter of factly, narrowing your eyes at him and playfully poked his chest.

Spencer chuckled, raising his arms up in defense and nodded, taking a step back playfully, "yeah, I've seen you train, and shoot. I'd rather not your aim." He laughed softly, stepping forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body to his, "but seriously, you're the strongest, bravest and most capable woman I've ever met, and I'm sorry if I've made you feel like you aren't. I just, I could never live with the fact that I let you get hurt or couldn't protect you if something ever happened to you. But I promise I'll work on my protectiveness."

"That's all I wanted to hear."

~~~~~~~~~

So this is my first Spencer Reid work. Honestly I'm not too happy with the end result of it. But we all start somewhere right? I'm trying to get back to writing so if you have any Reid request please send them my way. And if you'd like to be added to my Spencer Reid tag list also let me know. So yeah, thanks for reading this garbage and I'm out for now. Buh bye!

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #Matthew gray Gubler #mgg #x reader #x reader insert #self insert

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fumingspice · 3 years

Text

guardians

original work! im bored to death and i have nothing much to do so i guess maybe i could post this and see if people like it or not. mallorie whyte is sarah paulson 🤜👱🏻‍♀️

01 | oakwood academy

october 24th 2022

eli, ma. andromadex

-Madison

THE FINAL WORDS that Madison's stepmother Inez had jokingly yelled out the car window at her before she sped off to work were fairly sticking with her all throughout the day. She had driven at neck-breaking speed as she often had a habit of doing, and then braked so hard that she probably would have given any other passenger in the car a pretty bad whiplash, which Madison was convinced that Inez is immune to it by now, and then rolled down her window and told her; "y’know, if you want to actually make some friends you should really quit acting so bitchy."

Mind you, this was after she had gone on at her for days on end about being herself.

Madison was not opposed to making friends at this school. She wanted to. It's just so difficult when the fantastic, gold-crested reputation of your parents follows you around everywhere you go, and it's even worse when everyone else in your school completely matches that reputation.

To her, there's nothing worse than extra-cred class. She could promise you that. Especially when there are only fifteen more minutes left of the school day until the school bell rang sweet salvation and the students were released from the clutches school for another day. The classroom was decorated in crisp oranges, reds, yellows and browns; and the smothering scent of the ten-plus pumpkin spice candles could probably be smelt from miles away.

Madison's teacher, Ms. DuBois, was from Salem, and she loved nothing more than talking about witches in Salem. DuBois continued to rattle on about the executions that took place during the Salem Witch Trials of 1692- and since they were in Eli and not Salem, Madison could not fathom a single plausible reason as to why her extra-cred class had decided to adopt the Salem Witch Trials.

Oakwood Academy, Madison's new school, had managed to work its way to having one of the top academic records in America by providing an extra area of study for every year that a student attended. It was just one of the classes that would act as a "relaxer" for the workload that the Academy dumped on their students. They allocated five sets of twenty-five students to five different classes. For example; her older brother was allocated into a class that studied some of history's most famous serial criminals. The girl had been hit with a low-key pang of jealousy when she looked at his workbook, but she would never admit that.

Serial killer documentaries from Buzzfeed Unsolved was for her what World War II was to her brother Tiano.

Halfway through the class, Madison decided that Ms DuBois' babbles were nothing more than folklore and legends. There is no possible way that witches could exist, and even if they did; they would have become so sparsely spread out throughout the centuries that bloodlines would have become diluted into non-existence.

Madison had finally just about given up listening, getting ready to switch to her earphones when DuBois began talking about Gwendoline Proctor and Marie-Anne Dufosett. Judging by the amount of borderline useless word scrambles and pop quizzes that she had been bombarded with since August in which their names had popped up in, this would no doubt be just as bleak as the rest of the topic.

"Marie-Anne Dufosett was burned at the stake along with her mother and some other accused women-"

Well, that's just peachy.

"-However, does anybody know who accused Mademoiselle Dufosett of Witchcraft and Conspiring with the Devil?"

A few hands shot up. Oh, great, Madison thought, another room full of Hocus Pocus lovers.

DuBois picked on a boy at the back of the room wearing a black turtleneck underneath his blazer. "Perrone Goguillon," he answered.

Well, at least I know that instead of how to pay taxes.

Ms DuBois clapped her hands together and was about to praise him when Madison poked her head up and blurted out, "who in fresh hell is Peregrine Goujon?" The class burst into a peal of abrupt laughter and her face flashed a red that was possibly close to her burgundy uniform.

DuBois waited patiently for the laughter to die down, giving Madison a well-intended smile. She'd been trying to pry Madison out of her shell for weeks. "Miss Delvaux, I'm so happy that we've finally been graced with your conscious presence," she said. "Perrone Goguillon was one of the last witches to burnt at the stake in France."

What has that got to do with Salem?

There was a pause.

Turtleneck Boy piped up yet again. "Wasn't Perrone Marie-Anne's mother?"

Ms DuBois nodded, what followed probably should have been a moment for shock factor was cut short by Madison's unimpressive comment of; "Sounds like someone gained some serious mommy-issues."

Apart from a few smirks and sniggers, the room stayed in a star awkward silence. It was that moment when Madison had realised that making fun of witches in this classroom was possibly as close as you could get to treason.

The bell finally rang out before Madison could embarrass herself any further. She pulled on her coat and started speed-walking to get out of the school. She found listening to Toxic by Britney Speers always made her faster.

The crisp Massachusetts air stung at her cheeks hard, nipping at them until they were a hard red. The leaves crunched with a prominent sound and the wind blew quite fiercely. She hated fall- she missed the sweet Florida summer and sunshine that she had become so accustomed to. She missed splashing about in their swimming pool with her friends, sitting on her boyfriend's shoulders and having matches of pool basketball. They could get very competitive and Madison was certainly no stranger to having her head pushed underwater for the sake of one of her friends scoring a goal.

Her family had just moved to Massachusetts for her stepmother's work, as they often had moved around for that reason numerous times in the past. Inez worked with companies that were hanging on the edge of bankruptcy. A quick call to her office and she would work on the case as soon as possible. Most cases she could work on from home or online, but every few years a huge opportunity or promotion would come up that would require a move. It was always worth it. Inez was a wizard with a logbook and her incredible finances knowledge; she would advise the company and work with as many people as possible to save the company and boost its profits massively.

The job also came with a pretty hefty paycheck. Inez had been in Madison's life for as long as the girl could recall memory.

Now that the latest- and hopefully final- addition to the Delvaux family had come, Madison's father spent most of his time at home taking care of baby Thomas. In contrast to Inez, Madison's father came from a long line of "old" money; decades ago, his family was incredibly wealthy Franco-Belgian gold merchants, owning around 40% of the most flourishing gold mines in Belgium and France of which together bestowed them with a huge amount of the finest Belgian gold. Although the number of which lowered to about 750 tons of gold, the family net worth was still well into the billions.

Madison's father broke away from the complete gold-mine owning tradition and earned a job as a professor of physics in certain prestigious colleges across the country, although, there were still plenty of goldmines still to his name.

However, despite their needless fortune, most of the family, along with Inez, managed to stay incorrupt, helping to build many schools, hospitals and jobs in developing countries and donating thousands of millions of dollars to charities, side-lining with the Delvaux-Proveux Foundation to help create a better society with whatever difference they could cause.

Her parents did their best to remain humble- which sometimes proved itself difficult when the next five generations of their family could probably eat from solid gold plates if they chose to.

Needless to say, they spent only what they needed to, didn't exploit their riches, lived in the slightly more luxurious suburban homes. Madison was sent to Oakwood Academy; possibly the most unnecessarily expensive school in the north-east of America along with her adopted older brother Tiano and her adopted little sister Safina; the second youngest, Aleja went to an elementary not far from their home, and baby Thomas just did his best not to poop his pants straight after his diaper had been changed. Madison was convinced he did his best to poop at the worst possible time.

The house they had recently moved into was a beautiful country mansion, overlooking a lake and meadows, the balcony that showed a complete view of the landscape was perhaps Madison's favourite part of the house- apart from her bed of course.

She walked briskly up the pathway leading to the front door, doing her best to not show that she was absolutely freezing to death despite the massive coat. No sooner had she got in the door that she turned the heater on full blast and ran upstairs, diving into her bed.

Inconveniently, she was now too warm.

Madison rolled her eyes and then rolled out of bed with a slight thud, ran downstairs, lowered the heating, then ran back upstairs again- now at a slightly more satisfactory temperature. Her phone began to buzz; an incoming facetime from her friends back in Florida.

Madison jumped up promptly, fixing her hair and trying to make it look like she wasn't considering an attempt at home-made abseiling down the wall beneath her window. She accepted the call and lo and behold the screams and squeals of five of her best friends burst from the phone from on the other side of the country. Meghan, the girl in front and centre, called out Madison's name with an ear-piercing screech.

"Woah, Woah. Calm down, Meghan I'm not hoping to go deaf anytime soon," she muttered, pretending to be annoyed, making a particular fuss of changing the settings on her hearing aid. Meghan playfully rolled her eyes and began talking over the other girls.

"Oh, shut up, Maddie. How's Massachusetts? Find any cute warlocks that we need to come out and see?" She asked.

"Meghan, this place is amazing and beautiful- there's so many other things here than witches and warlocks and Harvard's array of nerds," she said, pretending she didn't want to hop on her tricycle and go home.

To be truthful, it was obvious that Meghan could see straight through the blatant lie.

"Well, if you say so, babes. Give us a tour of your house! We need to see chez Madison after stalking it for an hour on Google Maps."

Madison gave a hearty chuckle. "Well, if you insist."

Madison began her own rendition of a virtual tour around her house, showing everything from the luxury bathrooms to the heated pool in the basement. The ooooooo's and ahhhhhhhhh's were constant. The house was beautiful- that was undeniable. However, the crowning glory of the house was a massive stain-glass window depicting a woman by the lake.

"The realtors said that the builder of the house had it built in 1876 to memorialize the women persecuted and killed during the witch trials," Madison said, admiring the beautiful display of colours on the floor from the sun shining through the window.

"That's cheery."

That's typical Meghan.

"Now, more important than your sexy house; are you or are you not coming to prom?" Meghan asked, expectantly.

Madison shrugged, "I'm not sure, we only just got here, and I don't think my parents would want me flying across the country all by myself."

Meghan let out a slightly satisfied sigh. "So, does that mean Dylan is now free for me to take as my date?"

Madison gritted her teeth hard. Only forever has Meghan been trying to steal Dylan away from her. "Sure, as long as it's just as friends," she answered, fully emphasizing the word "friends".

Meghan laughed emptily. "Well, how else would I be taking him? Trust me, Maddie baby, if I wanted Dylan so bad, I would've gotten him months ago." There was a coy smile and awkward glances shared by the others.

Madison bit her tongue.

"Yeah?" She called out into the empty house. "Coming now, Nez!" She looked back at the screen, told them, "talk later, gals, Nez wants me to help her in the basement," and hung up without waiting for a response, already knowing that Meghan would be commenting on how strange she was acting.

Madison and Meghan had been stuck to each other's waist since pre-school, grew up in close neighborhoods, and had practically been raised together. One time, Madison's family took Meghan to Disney Land, then straight to Universal Studios after. To say they were spoiled rotten in childhood because of the Delvaux family wealth was an understatement. It was only now approaching adult years was Meghan taking full advantage of her best friend's wealth- hinting off about getting her into Yale or Harvard, Madison smiled and nodded when she brought these things up, knowing full well Meghan didn't hold enough brain cells to even use a dishwasher.

The jangle of keys and the opening of the door sounded from downstairs. "The party's home! Maddie honey, you here?" Inez called, audibly struggling with grocery bags. "Coming!" she called back, skipping down the stairs two steps at a time. Inez relieved herself of one of the six bags she had carried from the car.

"When are you going to learn to walk down the stairs without the risk of breaking your damn neck?" she asked, walking to the kitchen and setting half of the bags on the counter, and doing the same with Maddie's bags. Madison laughed and shook her head, "when we confirm that the birds don't work for the bourgeoisie."

Inez rolled her eyes and pulled Madison into a hug. "Well, in that case, I may as well buy a neck brace and put the hospital on speed dial."

Madison gave a real laugh this time and pulled away, throwing a damp washcloth at Inez's face. "Megan facetimed me earlier with Linda, Karlie, Houston, Seoul and London.

Inez pulled a face, "yeah, and how did that turn out?" Madison sighed, "she asked me if she could take Dylan to prom."

Her stepmom stopped unpacking and lurched into deep thought. "Why are all your friends named after cities?" Madison was about to continue when she stopped to think about the question.

"Back to the topic, Nez."

Inez’s eyes widened in shock. "She did not, did she?" Madison nodded carefully, bracing herself for Inez launching into a huge monologue, as she often did when something morally wrong happened. "After everything that we've done for that girl- everything that you've done for that girl, this is how she repays you?" Inez barely stopped to breathe. "She has known about our plans to move here since last Summer! The sneaky little bug kept this behind your back and knew it would be safe to tell you that she was going to steal Dylan from you as soon as you were a safe distance away-"

Madison promptly stopped her, knowing this could and would go on all night. "I'm not as bothered as I should be, Nez. Dylan and I were drifting even before the move. I think this is just my final sign that we just aren't meant to be- God, I always knew nothing serious would become of Dylan and me," she admitted, sipping on a diet coke that Inez had just slid down the countertop. Her stepmother pursed her lips, her incredible dark brown eyes glazing over as they always did when she fell deep into thought, as Madison often admired them doing so when she was trying to find a solution to a particularly difficult business situation, then, within seconds, bounced back out of it once again.

Inez presented an envelope to Madison, addressed to her. "Well, this might bring your spirits up at least," she placed in front of Madison. "I just know it is what it is."

Madison's jaw dropped as she read the letter.

Months ago, while they still lived in Florida, Madison's tutor convinced her to take part in a writing competition. The competition was hosted by one of New York's most prestigious publication companies, namely by their founder; Mallorie Whyte, possibly one of the most sought after and revered journalists in the Western Hemisphere. Madison completely worshipped the woman. Whyte being a first generation French American was the main factor in inspiring Madison to learn the language; not for the benefit of her Senegalese brother.

But he did not need to know that.

Inez spoke again, mainly just to make sure that Madison hadn't become paralyzed from shock. "Is she telling you to buy a damn dictionary or was your spelling fine?” Inez teased. There was no response, but Madison was finished reading, and Inez became heart-scared that she would lick the page.

Madison was dumbfounded for a few more seconds. "I got first place in the contest. She wants me to come to New York and meet her! Bloody hell, she thinks I could help her out with new ideas?" Maddie took another break before screaming the house down. "The Mallorie Whyte wants me because she thinks I could help her-"

She completely froze up in shock, her frightened stepmother running behind her in case she fell backwards. "Three weeks?!" Madison screeched, loud enough to wake up the dead. Inez almost jumped from her skin, laughing when she recovered.

"Three weeks, Maddie! We have plenty of time," she attempted to reason, even though trying to calm Madison down when she was as excited as this was next to impossible.

Madison looked highly offended. "Three weeks? Do you see the state of this house? It needs to be perfect!"

The house was next to gleaming spotless.

Inez rolled her eyes and tugged Madison's belt loop as she was about to run into the hall. In her lifetime, she had met many people that she could consider crazy, but no one came as close to her stepdaughter when she was fangirling over Mallorie Whyte. "Yes, honey that's all well and good," Inez said, attempting to calm down the lunatic in front of her, "but in the meantime, I want you to tidy your bedroom, do your homework and do some studying."

Madison nodded obediently, grabbed her Cola, and ran upstairs, careful not to spill anything on the grey carpet. The fragrance of her apple blossom burning in an incense bowl wafted around the room, and her speaker was set to play music from her playlist when it detected motion in the room. The past few moments of excitement had wiped what had happened before the letter out of her mind.

Dylan.

Meghan had practically taken Dylan away from her- not that she cared, not now anyway. Mallorie freakin' Whyte had sent her a handwritten letter for Christ's sake, she wasn't going to be moping over a boy that her supposed best friend has had her eyes on for months. She had known since before announcing the move that the boy was falling under Meghan's spell, she had seen it; the messages, the winks and the giggles, the almost-too-close kiss under the stairway. She was never ignorant to the fact that there was something between Dylan and Meghan going on behind her back- they were both horrible liars and barely tried to cover it up- she just did her best to pretend nothing had happened.

It's not as if she wasn't the jealous type- she used to be- Dylan had been around most of her friendship group while she was crushing on him. She had just grown an indifference to seeing him flirt with other girls. She had grown used to it.

The notification of her computer sounded, distracting herself from her slightly depressing thoughts. It was an email notification, from Mallorie Whyte herself. Madison almost fainted at the sight of it. Not only had she just received a written letter, but she had also taken time to contact online. Madison caught her breath at the possibility of having a conversation with this woman three weeks before they met, she opened the email, scanning every word;

Madison,

I apologize for reaching out to you in such an informal manner, but I just couldn't wait to get into correspondence with you sooner! Your entry into our contest here at Whyte’s Journalism and Publications utterly rocked my soul at the core, your work blooms amazingly at your young age.

The reason I picked your entry was that after many hours of reading and re-reading hundreds of thousands of entries, I realized that yours spoke to me in a way that no other one did. The beauty of your language and knowledge of how our world and society works touched me in a way no other did- heart-breaking, yet somehow warming, in the same way, to know that there are still people in this world who still have a love for life.

I noted in your information folder that Halloween was your least favourite holiday- a complete juxtaposition of my own opinion. Samhain is the best time of year- and I am excited to spend this glorious time of year with you and your family starting next weekend, as I've just finished sorting arrangements with Ms. Inez.

Best regards and wishes, and excitement to meet you,

Mallorie Whyte.

Inez smiled to herself from downstairs, setting her drink down and running up the stairs having heard the rather obvious sound of Madison's delighted squeal and subsequent crash on the floor.

#anyway #this is original for once LMAO #yeah i promise there's some gross billie fluff coming at some point #writeblr

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gingerwritess · 5 years

Note

I was watching Brooklyn 99 and felt inspired by the dialogue. “Am I just a piece of meat to you?” “Yes. Now put on a smile, pork chop.” I just got strong pre dating idiots vibes when I thought about it.

“You.”

Tony Stark slams his hands down on the bar top.

“You are the one dating Dr. Who, yes?”

“Actually,” you sigh and take a sip of your beer, “I’m one of your employees, thank you very much, and you recently promoted me.”

“Well of course I know that.” He chuckles and slides into the seat next to you, raising a finger at the bartender. “I don’t mean that in any disrespect. I hear you’re a whiz in the language department?”

“One of my stronger suits, I guess.”

“We’re thinking of moving you up a few more levels.” The bartender slides him a glass; Stark clinks it against your bottle with a small smile. “I’m…not supposed to tell you yet.”

Stay cool. Stay cool.

“That’s neat.” You laugh nervously—what the hell are you supposed to say to that?? “I appreciate it, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony,” he corrects with a smile. “Thing is, you’d be working at the same level as loverboy over there, which from what I’ve heard, is quite the workplace love story?”

He tips his glass towards Loki—Laing—who seems to have decided that standing in a corner alone, watching everyone else mill about while still wearing his lab coat, is normal human behaviour.

Well…okay, maybe he’s not too far off. Dr. Banner is doing the same thing over in that other corner.

“We’ll just break up,” you blurt before you can stop yourself—then mentally slap yourself across the face.

“Wow. Okay, well, uh, that’s unnecessary,” Tony laughs. “Unless you’re looking for a way out, all you’ve gotta do is fill out a quick form just for HR to keep on record. Y’know, just to make sure he’s not using our rooms, equipment to give you any private checkups…”

You choke on your drink, spewing beer across the bar top.

“That’s not gonna happen,” you cough, furiously shaking your head. “Really, I swear, we don’t—no, god, no, we don’t do that.”

Tony’s eyebrow quirks. “Sure. Just fill out the form for me and we’ll get you movin’ as soon as we can, alright?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, of course! Thank you, Tony!”

He winks and pushes off the bar, heading back out into the crowd—stopping to shake Laing’s hand and engage him in a quick little conversation.

Oh, if only he knew.

You’ve been trying to avoid him all night, trying to make this first little (okay, unnecessarily giant) staff “meet your bosses” party as enjoyable and progressive to your career as possible.

Judging from the fact that you just spoke to the boss of all bosses over a beer about your love life…things are going pretty well.

Yeah, you can risk a quick chance to mock how awkward Loki looks at this party.

“Hey, loverboy.”

You slide up next to him and bump his hip with yours.

He just nods.

“Enjoying yourself?”

Shaking his head, he brings his glass of dark liquor to his lips and downs it in one gulp.

“Holy shit,” you laugh as he lowers the glass. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s been an interesting night,” he sighs, running a hand through his blond hair.

“Same here. I got promoted, like, a week and a half ago, and Tony Stark just told me they’re moving me up even higher.”

He glances over at you, finger tapping the rim of his glass. “You, too?”

“What?”

“I was promoted as well,” he explains, pushing off the wall and heading back towards the bar, you trailing not far behind. “I now have access to the scans of the brain belonging to a certain super soldier.”

Your jaw drops. “You’re joking.”

“Afraid not.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe, mind spinning. “You’ve barely been here a month, how the hell did you pull that off??”

Glass refilled, he raises it and clinks it against your half-finished beer with a lopsided grin. “I have my ways, darling.”

“Nuh-uh, tell me how you did that.”

“Robert Laing is the most qualified person in this building,” he chuckles, clearly enjoying your bewilderment. “I have…eight? Eight PhD’s, putting me even over our beloved Dr. Banner, and I may have told them I’ve worked for SHIELD for over a decade.”

“God of lies,” you mutter, spinning back around on your stool to slump against the bar top. “So that’s why I’m getting promoted, too, right? What’d you tell them about me?”

He cocks his head. “What do you mean?”

“I got promoted to the same level as you. You lied about me, too, right? Said I worked with Howard Stark or some shit, just to help your little charade?”

“No…” he slowly shakes his head. “You earned your promotion by your own hand. All I’ve ever said about you is that you’re good in bed, don’t flatter yourself.”

“Y’know, sometimes I forget I hate you. Then you remind me.”

Loki raises his hands with a laugh. “Only speculating. I have to act the part, don’t I?”

“Robert Laing doesn’t need to be a class A douche,” you groan, dropping your head to your hands. “How about you make your fake self a sweet, dorky guy with a soft heart? Not some dick who’s only with his girl for the sex?”

“He’s a minimal effort character,” Loki replies smoothly. “Being two people at once is rather trying. If I spend too much time trying to be Robert, I could lose focus and let my duplicate slip.”

“And how terrible would that be—”

“Careful,” he cuts in, leaning towards you to speak low in your ear; “do I need to remind you what could happen if you intervene with my cover?”

“I know who you are,” you snap, grabbing a fork off the bar top and jabbing it into his stomach—he’s a little too close. Two can play this game. “And you just got yourself promoted to work right alongside your big bro. All it’ll take is one good yell from me and you’re back where you started, Loki.”

He scowls, teeth gritting in your ear. “Go on. Stab me, right here. Tell my brother the truth, show everyone here who I really am.”

“Maybe I will,” you hiss, pushing the fork into his gut a little harder. His fingers wrap around your bicep and squeeze as he starts to laugh, quiet and low, his breath tickling your neck.

“So fearsome.”

You grab his glass and slosh the drink in his face, dripping down the front of his precious lab coat.

“Aren’t I?”

With that, you hop off your seat and wrench your arm from his grip, leaving him sputtering at the bar behind you.

Of course, your smug satisfaction is momentary, screeching to a stop when a large hand wraps around your bicep again and with a sudden gust of wind, you’re no longer walking away from the bar.

“Not another word,” Loki hisses, fingers still tight around your arm. “Seems that I haven’t made myself clear enough as to the discretion our little arrangement.”

Your back hits a wall—and something else, crashing to the floor as you try to yank your arm out of his grip.

Ah. Mops.

“You are so—hmph—predictable,” you grit out, struggling to find your footing amidst the dark janitors closet. “You’d be a wonderful fanfiction character from 2012, whisking damsels off to dark closets—”

“Romantic, I know. Now stop—moving—” Loki grabs your other arm when you punch him in the gut and try to duck away, pushing you back against the wall—ooh, he’s almost sort-of panting. Guess he’s not invincible after all.

You stick your nose in the air, stomping your foot with a small huff of annoyance when you find you can’t cross your arms. “What now, Robbie? Gonna kill me or kiss me?”

“Robbie—oh, kill you. Definitely, without a moment’s hesitation, kill you.”

The knife to your throat was expected. So far almost every interaction you’ve had with this lovely old god has ended with one of you at the other’s throat, so you’re not exactly surprised.

You clear your throat, attempting to roll your eyes at the god pinning you to the wall. “Predictable,” you mutter, kicking pointlessly at his knees.

His eyes narrow, jaw clenches, fingers tighten around your arm…and he lets go.

He heaves a huge sigh, twirls the knife around his finger and pockets it, stepping away from you.

“Contrary to popular belief,” he says, long fingers pressing to his chest, “I don’t actually crave blood on my hands.”

“Couldn’t tell,” you scowl, rubbing your neck and shoving past him to the door of the little closet. Oh, perfect.

Locked.

“You planned this, didn’t you.”

Loki smiles. “Makes you more likely to listen to me, doesn’t it?”

That might be your best glare yet. Not that he could see it, with how dark it is in here, but it still counts.

“I was trying to not have to threaten you for silence,” he sighs, having the nerve to sound annoyed with you. “But it seems that you’re not overly fond of me nor the other version of me, so you really have no one to blame but yourself.”

“You self-righteous son of a—”

“You don’t have to like me,” he cuts in, lifting his hands in front of him. “I just need you to cooperate. Otherwise…you know too much to be kept alive.”

“Y’know, if this is how you present yourself to everyone new you meet, I’m not—ugh, surprised—no one likes you.” Giving the doorknob one last helpless yank, you bang your forehead against the wall with a huff of defeat. “You’re the worst.”

“So I’ve heard.”

He steps closer, hands still raised, palms open to you. Good, no knife this time.

This “relationship” is so screwed up that you’re almost touched by the fact that this time, he’s not trying to kill you.

“Can I trust you? Or do I have to silence you myself?”

You sigh, loud and exaggerated beyond belief just so he knows you’re not happy about it.

“Fine.”

“Good girl.”

A shocked, indignant little sound leaving your throat, you immediately raise your hand to slap the everloving shit out of him for that, but he chuckles and the lock on the door clicks.

“After you, darling.” He shifts back into Dr. Laing and opens the door for you with a wave of his hand.

“I’m not your d—”

“Having fun in there?”

Okay, mental note to tell Loki that the next time he picks a random closet to teleport to, don’t pick one in the restricted levels locker rooms.

“I-I’m so sorry, we got lost,” you stammer, not expecting to have ever run into the Black Widow in a locker room at work—she and the other avengers aren’t exactly at your paygrade.

“Lost,” she repeats, an amused grin tugging at her lips. “Okay. Laing, zip up and get out of here before I have to escort you.”

You spin on your heel to find Loki—once again your fake doctor-lover—slipping out of the little closet, a hand in front of his crotch zipping his pants, sheepishly grinning as he tucks his shirt into the waistband of his pants.

Oh, the little shit.

“You can’t blame me,” he chuckles, grabbing your hand and squeezing—he must’ve guessed you were about to slap him, for real this time. “Actually, you can’t blame her, either…can’t resist, what can I say?”

“Sorry. We’re leaving now,” you mutter, storming out of the locker room and dragging Loki along behind you before he gets any more detailed.

“You’re doing better already,” Loki laughs as you round a corner and practically shove him into the elevator, waiting until the second the door closes to bitch-slap him right across the face.

There’s a moment of shocked silence—you’ll treasure that forever. But then…

“…was that supposed to hurt?”

For the record, it hurt your hand more than it probably hurt his annoyingly defined cheekbones, but man, did that feel good.

“No,” you growl, turning around and crossing your arms as the elevator drops. “Just wanted you to know that I could do it.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

You can hear the patronising amusement laced into his voice.

“You’re the single worst person I’ve ever met.”

He smiles, glancing over at you. “You’ve mentioned, and yet you still play along with my charade.”

“Only because you threaten to kill me!”

“I think you like it,” he hums, rocking back and forth on his heels. “You’ve at least dressed your part tonight. You could pass for a love interest.”

“So that’s it? I’m just a piece of meat to you?”

“Yes.” The elevator dings and the door slides open, the staff party still in full swing. “Now put on a smile, pork chop.”

SMACK.

As long as you get to keep slapping him whenever he pisses you off, this little fake-lationship might just last long enough for Loki to leave.

If anything, seeing his stunned, flushed face after your palm meets his cheek is doing wonders for your confidence.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, please reblog and feel free to send me ideas!

~ masterlist link in my bio ~

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettghost13 @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mischievousbellerina @kcd15 @mellowgirl01 @lokislilcaribbeanprincess @allthingzhiddleston @scorpionchild81 @lokixme @blue-automne @galaxycharmed @devilbat @kangaroobunny @end-up-well @planetariumx @sarcsep @mrfandomtastic @amaru163 @im-way-too-many-fandoms @caswinchester2000 @kybaeza @wester-than-west @vintagesunshinebitch @adefectivedetective @poetic-nikolai @moonduhsted @kerri-masson @iamverity @innaminitus @spnbarnes @narcissxblack @woohoney @anxiousamandapanda @padmeisgay @authordreaming13 @lokisironthrone @theunknowinglys @highfuncti0ningfangirl @epicfallenismine @stubby-toe-589331 @fandomnerdsarecool @retrofantasyland @arch-venus25 @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @littleredstarfish @marshyrebelcloud @okie–loki @atterodominatus @stfxlou @pandacookieowo

#loki x reader #loki reader insert #loki slowburn #loki enemies to lovers #loki fake dating #loki imagine #pre-dating idiots

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frstbiitten · 3 years

Text

cw: blood, violence

At what time had she arrived home the night before? She didn't feel sore in her head, maybe a little in her body, didn't know exactly what time it was, much less why she felt so exhausted. Heard the cell phone ringing from somewhere in the room, it was a loud and unnecessarily annoying noise, she waited a few seconds for it to stop. It stopped ringing for a moment, only to start ringing again. By the end she had no choice but to leave the mattress and go for the cell phone, inside of one of the pockets of her jeans, they were laying on the floor near the front door. The number belonged to no other than Violet.

"Violet, please, I swear I'm fine." Frost answered somewhat exasperated, her body still trying to shake off the sleepy feeling, again she wondered what time it was, noon? She came back somewhat tired last night, that explained it.

"Ah, Frost, hello, sorry, I thought you had woken up some time ago, did you get through your adventure alright at least?" Oh, she was referring to Jason, she still had the feeling of his lips saturating various areas of her body, places that might be somewhat embarrassing, she didn't know how to feel about that yet.

"Well...yeah...it was kind of interesting."

"Well, well, at least one of us got some action, but I'm calling you for something urgent: you see, since Jasper died, Kit has been distancing herself from me a lot, we've never gone this long without talking to each other, you know? And I'm worried, I've been following her and I haven't been able to call her, it's like her number's been blocked, so I need you to help me find her."

That put Frost in a very compromising place, she could either say no and go on with her day, or be gentle and less selfish and tell her she would help her find Kit.

"Yes, I understand your concern, I gather that if you've been following her, you know where she is."

"Yes, that's the problem, that's what I need you for, and I'm hoping you can help me with this, I've seen her getting out of fancy cars, accompanied by men who I can tell are not simply members of a criminal street gang, I mean she may be involved in something much more serious."

"And why are you so concerned about that, not that it's the closest thing to her previous work?"

Heard Violet let out a huff as she headed for the bathroom, looking at her reflection in the mirror, there was a very striking purple mark on her pale neck.

"You're missing my point, Kit was never like this with me, she's my friend and I'm worried I can't have contact with her, I'm sorry about Jasper's death but I'm sick of being alone, maybe I've started over again but I need her in my life still." It was something almost touching, Violet's voice seemed to break from moment to moment, maybe she was teary-eyed by that specific minute and was even choking back a sob as she spoke.

"Okay... I'll be waiting for you, literally, I have nothing else to do."

"Okay, then I'll see you in the evening."

"By the way, where have you seen Kit?" to Frost, this was a question of great importance.

"I don't know if you've been to Hollywood or Beverly Hills before, you know, places where you and I would be seen in the worst possible way, but I have a bad feeling about this."

Frost had almost no memory of seeing those places before, she knew very well what they were but beyond that, she had never set foot in those places, Frost wouldn't know exactly what she would run into. Something inside her told her it wouldn't be a night like others.

"I understand... see you later."

***************

The best way to enter these places is not by walking but by car, in a cab to be precise, although the cost of the trip would be somewhat exorbitant, it was to be expected that it would not be a cheap visit at all. Both paid out of their pockets with what they had, Violet gave clear instructions as to where they would end their journey, at least a less suspicious distance from the club, but close enough to not walk too far.

Maybe for Violet, this world was unfamiliar to her but it wasn't completely unfamiliar, for Frost this was new, the flashing neon lights, the bright signs, and the sound of a Saturday night in a city where it was more than obvious that someone like her couldn't fit in safely. Frost followed Violet closely, not wanting to get lost in all the hustle and bustle or she wouldn't know how to get back. Suddenly Violet stopped and held Frost's hand for a moment, she had spotted something near the club.

"See that car, the white one with tinted windows?" She didn't want to point it out so as not to raise any suspicion, they were close enough to notice who was arriving or who was leaving. "Look, that's Kit." They both watched as Kit stepped out of the luxury car, she had always been someone posh but now it was clear she had received more money these past few weeks than either of them. "I don't know why she's coming here, nor do I know how we could get in, maybe the back of the club I guess."

"Maybe, although there are probably bodyguards watching."

"But you know how to beat up people... I don't think it's going to be a big problem for you."

In response to Violet's advice, Frost simply sighed, so this was what she had brought her along for.

Well there was no turning back now, much less when she left two cameras and three bodyguards disabled, she decided not to kill them, that might make things worse for the two of them, and Violet had no combat skills, even if she was much taller than Frost. The unlucky guys ended up passed out on the ground, near a trash can, and with their communicators out of function, hands and feet wrapped in ice, maybe it would have some long term side effect, but it wasn't part of Frost's main concern, it wasn't her problem.

Through the back door they entered a dark corridor, from the ceiling appeared two rows on each side of LED lights that changed colors continuously, from there they could smell the aroma of the room perfumer, something fruity, but also the smell of cigarettes was present. They didn't have much time until someone would discover what they had done, they passed near the back section of the kitchen, they couldn't see it but they could hear it, it didn't take long for Frost's stomach to start growling, it was better not to pay attention to it.

"Where do you think it could be? This place is huge." The young woman heard noises coming from all corners, footsteps, laughter, glasses falling, whatever.

"I want to believe we're not too far away, but I don't know, I've never been inside this place." Violet was confused about it too, it seemed like they were never going to make it to the dance floor, let alone the stairs to the second floor.

At the end of the hallway there seemed to be nothing but a dark space, dark curtains hung from the ceiling and behind the metal door, the sound of music could be heard clearly. Frost walked towards the door, it appeared heavy but without the need to use a key to open it. Before even touching the lever, she felt a stabbing sensation in her shoulder, at first it didn't seem worrisome but the scream she heard was enough, whatever had pierced her shoulder now was only inserting it further into her muscles and something pushed her to the floor.

The object came out of her body and went in again, knowing full well that it would cut her back once more. But that didn't happen, she heard Violet struggle with the attacker and ask her to stop.

"Shit, Kit, you asshole stop! She didn't do anything to you for you to do this to her!"

"Because of her Jasper is dead! If we had never met her, she'd be alive!"

Hearing those last words, Frost did her best to pull herself up from the ground, noticing that blood was pouring down her shoulders and arms. They were deep cuts, deep enough that she had to take care of every move with extreme detail or the pain would start hitting her again. Kit was holding the knife with both hands while lying on the floor and Violet was trying to calm her down at the same time, it only took Frost a few seconds to remove the knife from Kit, pressing her chest with one of her feet and freezing her hands slightly.

"Wow, I guess that's how you greet everyone, do you know why we're here?" Frost was going to keep her foot on Kit's chest until she calmed down, Violet decided to let go of her arms just in case, worrying mostly for Frost now and her wounds.

"Why would that matter to me? You're not welcomed here, you're scum Frost!" Had never seen Kit act so aggressively, she even tried to hit her leg, but at her touch she felt the coldness of the young woman's skin.

"I've been trying to track you down, you weren't answering my calls and I got worried to the point of tracking you down, I had to come with Frost because I didn't know how dangerous this would be." But Violet was on the verge of running away now, this is not the Kit she knows, her words aren't true at all, perhaps coming alone without Frost would have been a better option, she risked her life after all without knowing. "Frost, are you okay?"

"I've been worse."

It was only there when Kit calmed down, Frost took her foot off her chest and decided to give the two friends a moment. This was of no concern to her, she only came to help Violet in case something more serious happened. She focused from moment to moment on their conversation, leaning against one of the walls in the dark, they talked about pacts and fears, Kit was recruited by a Russian mafia boss, she was a companion but also an informant, had her charms and skills that were useful for them and her mostly. At times she lost the thread of the conversation, keeping her attention on the knife soaked with her blood in her hands, her own blood, she felt the wound closing slowly although she could not ignore the intense pain in her back. She cleaned the blade by covering it with a layer of thin ice and removing it, leaving the shards to melt on the ground.

She felt like leaving them both alone, as they had a lot to talk about with each other and she didn't want to be in their way, it was clear that Kit didn't like the idea of her being there with Violet. Frost was a curious person and of course, the metal door caught her attention, heard music and people on the other side, she rested her hand on the lever and gently opened it, but the squeak caught the attention of the other two girls.

"If I were you I wouldn't let them see me, especially after what you did a few months ago." Kit decided to stop Frost before opening the door, placing her hand over hers, she didn't want her to leave for good reasons. "Look, it's a small world out there, and even if you, you insufferable snowball with anger issues, think you live tucked inside a bubble, believe me, your head already has a price on it, and more than likely someone or more than one person is looking for you, and for very good reasons."

"First of all, I don't have anger issues, got it? Okay, second; I know how to defend myself." And she was insistent besides, as she opened the door backward.

"Yeah, I saw how you defended yourself against me, if it wasn't for Violet, you'd already be getting torn to pieces in some machine and ending inside of a garbage bag."

Violet was already wearing herself out from this argument, pulling Kit away from Frost before they both started fighting again.

"Kit... please...don't make the night any more difficult." She left her friend behind to accompany Frost who was already about to leave, as she was curious about it too, maybe she would never set foot in a place like this again. Kit only rolled her eyes, irritated almost, for her friend was not in favor of her decisions and now the girl she wanted to kill had her knife, she was going to ask for it later. There probably wouldn't be a "later".

The club was packed with people, the music was loud and they were pretty close to the bar. There were glasses in the shapes of crystals hanging from the ceiling in some areas, velvet-lined furniture and expensive drinks, well the two girls were in for a surprise if they were thirsty, most of it was out of their budget. It was entertaining for Kit to see Violet so amused, even walking while dancing, but Frost's presence was what she hadn't expected, though it was a good opportunity. She pulled out her cell phone, several contacts on it were there that night, and to all of them, she sent them the same message:

"She's here."

#novel #((it's been a while and i know is quite short but here it is))#blood tw #violence tw

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moneypedia · 3 years

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By Drew Shepherd

“You’re so judgmental!!!”

That’s the response I get when I delve a little too deep into my analytical side.

I’m somewhat of a perfectionist myself, so it’s no surprise that I hold others to my own lofty standards. And that’s one of many flaws I’m still working on.

There are certain times, however, when I’m unapologetic in my ways. And as you can see by the title of this article, this is one of those times.

The ability to screen out promiscuous women is one of the most valuable skills any man can have. It keeps you from wasting precious resources on a girl who couldn’t care less about you, and it protects you from being yet another clueless man in the dark.

A girl who sleeps around is never a good choice for your investment. And no matter what our culture tries to prove, the truth is that past sexual experience will always affect future relationships for the worse.

That’s why I created this list of 15 red flags to look for when you evaluate a potential partner.

This list is by no means exhaustive, and I’m sure there are plenty more signs you should be aware of too. But this one is intended to be a relatively quick check, and I’ve tried to limit it to signs you can notice within a few weeks at the most, or that you can easily find out with a scan of her social media.

Now I’m sure both you and I will catch some flak here for being “judgmental”, but remember, it’s not wrong to look out for your own interests. And in order to protect those interests, you need to discern the character of the people closest to you.

Being judgmental is assuming people’s character based on qualities outside their control. Discernment is deducing their character based on info they freely provide.

Only a fool would need a DNA test on an apple tree to confirm what it is…

Smart people just look at the fruit.

The 15 Red Flags Every Man Should Know

#1 She can’t stay at home. / She’s a party girl.

What it means: She needs excitement.

If she can’t enjoy a quiet night at home, walk away.

These kind of girls seem fun and interesting at first, but their lifestyle gets old fast. Plus there’s no telling how many intoxicated guys have taken their shot at her.

So find a girl who would rather read a book, watch a TV show, work out at home, cook a new meal, or talk to her friends on the phone.

“But that doesn’t sound like fun…”

No, most guys would say it doesn’t. But you know what’s more important than fun in relationships?

Stability.

A girl who runs out of her place every night has a need for excitement. And that need will find a way to bite you.

Sure, everything will be great when you’re both in a good mood, but what happens when she gets bored, or worse, when she’s unhappy?

If she needed excitement before she met you she will need it afterwards. And those thrills won’t be limited to a few drinks with the girls.

Most people are plenty fun when you get to know them anyway. So instead of worrying about that, ask yourself some more important questions:

Will she be there during a rough patch in your life?

Will she say “no” when a bigger fish comes along?

Does she avoid situations where she’ll be unnecessarily tempted?

Those are the questions you want answered (indirectly of course—actions speak louder than words).

Work on all those first. Then you can talk about fun.

#2 She has too many male friends.

What it means: She’s addicted to male attention.

Notice I said friends here and not acquaintances.

There’s nothing wrong with a woman having a conversation with a man. And if you do have a problem with that, you’re too possessive. A woman making small talk with her male coworker isn’t cause for concern.

But if she has close relationships to other guys, and she consistently talks to them about personal issues, that’s when you should be worried.

The true number of platonic male-female relationships is very small, and most of them only exist due to special circumstances.

But for the most part, men and women do not just become friends.

The truth is that the two sexes are equal, but different. And it’s tough for us to form close bonds outside of a romantic or sexual relationship.

Any girl who has tons of guy friends is bad news because almost all of them are attracted to her. And since she hasn’t made an effort to turn them down, it means she’s addicted to their attention.

If you don’t meet the requirements of such a popular girl, she’ll eagerly pick a replacement from her pool of waiting “friends”.

#3 She has tattoos or piercings on interior body parts.

What it means: She’s impulsive.

I’ve never been a fan of tattoos, so I wouldn’t look for a significant other who has any. But this red flag is more about the positioning of the ones she has.

If a girl has tattoos or piercings on any interior body parts (i.e. her upper thighs, torso, etc.), it is not a good sign. And here are only a few reasons why:

Someone had to put it there

People don’t get tattoos to cover them up

She makes long-term decisions based on short-term results

It’s just a terrible choice all around. Why would you taint the natural beauty you have with a man-made distraction?

It doesn’t make sense to me.

But in a way, I guess you should be happy when you see a girl like this. She’s made your job easy by effectively saying, “Don’t take me serious.”

#4 She’s a (moderate to heavy) drinker. / She does recreational drugs.

What it means: She allows unnecessary temptation.

Contrary to popular belief, human beings are not inherently good. And when given the choice, we will always be inclined to do what’s morally wrong.

Many times our conscious thought overrides this inclination, but whenever alcohol or drugs are involved, that inhibition goes out the window.

The point here is related to the first red flag about party girls—she allows herself to be tempted. And why would you ever trust a girl who intentionally lowers her self-control?

You are playing with fire and you know it.

Yes, crimes like theft will always be wrong, but we all have a responsibility to lock our doors.

#5 She’s a man hater. / She tests you to see if you’re man enough.

What it means: She lacks healthy relationships with the men in her life.

“All men are blah blah blah…”

“Guys only care about blah blah blah…”

“Men don’t deserve blah blah blah blah blah…”

Yeah, it’s annoying.

Man haters are the worst. I understand that some of us really are terrible, but if every guy she meets is like that, take a look at the common denominator.

Yes, I’m tough on the opposite sex sometimes, but even I know that there are fantastic women out there.

You can’t let the good ones convince you that all girls are sweet and innocent, and you can’t let the bad ones blind you to the praiseworthy women either.

The same is true about our side.

So if a girl always complains about the men in her life, she’s either still bitter about a failed relationship, or she presents herself as an object for men to lust after.

#6 She can’t put her phone down. / She’s addicted to social media.

What it means: She craves attention and drama.

The online version of too many male friends.

A smart girl knows that male attention doesn’t result from her “amazing personality”.

The number of friends and likes she gets is directly proportional to how attractive people think she is.

This stuff is honestly common sense by now but you still see the same thing all the time. A fairly attractive girl only has to post a few pictures, and boom, she’s got 50 dudes trying to hit her up.

She probably won’t give any of them the time of day—unless one of them is like, so hot—but at least she got her daily attention fix. Plus she’s found a new group of reliable “friends” to support her.

It’s ridiculous. And don’t even get me started on the drama.

If she’s more interested in her phone than she is in you, don’t try to change her mind.

#7 She’s comfortable in revealing clothes. / She’s insensitive to male touch.

What it means: She’s used to it.

Do you really think she dresses that way for you?

Do you honestly believe it’s normal for guys to hug and hold her like it’s no big deal?

She’s used to it, man. And even if she isn’t promiscuous now, it won’t take much effort for her to get that way.

But going back to her style of dress, you might believe her choice of clothes doesn’t matter anymore. You think that times have changed, and this girl is different. So different in fact that she’s above all of human nature.

Yeah, keep believing that.

The reality is that men are visual creatures. And both men and women instinctively know that the way a women dresses determines the type of attention she gets.

Our society doesn’t like to acknowledge that fact nowadays, so we try to ignore it as best as we can.

Instead, we say she has high self esteem, that she deserves to show off her body. And if you don’t like it, you’re living in the past.

But please don’t buy the “I’m-proud-of-my-body-so-I-need-to-be-half-naked” excuse.

People who are comfortable with a fit body, or great wealth, or whatever else they have don’t feel the need to show it off. They rest assured in the knowledge that it’s there.

The only people who show off are the ones who need validation. And they always need it from multiple people.

So if any girl shows too much skin, or if she’s fine with being hugged or touched any kind of way, you need to reconsider.

#8 She believes that things just happen. / She follows her heart. / She’s in love with “love” and relationships.

What it means: She lacks emotional control.

These girls are tricky for inexperienced guys, so let me explain.

It feels great at first to be the focus of a girl’s undying love. And the highs of having a beautiful woman enraptured by you is something straight outta the movies.

But guess what?

You will never be the only one.

You just happen to be her drug of the month. And all it takes is a more attractive or manipulative man to change her loyalties.

That is the dark reality of girls who “follow their heart.”

So instead of chasing a girl who’s crazy….about you, find a girl who tempers her heart with her head.

Don’t be afraid of love. Just make sure it’s the real thing first.

#9 She uses profanity.

What it means: She doesn’t value purity.

I don’t like profanity.

Sure, I went through a phase where it was cool to sprinkle in some “sentence enhancers”, but even then it still felt wrong.

Pure speech is something I value now, and it really does bother me to hear people—male or female—casually drop f-bombs. I don’t give them a stare or anything, but I know that profanity usually indicates that something is off in your life.

That’s one reason why I never use profanity on this site. Out of all the posts on HFE, I haven’t used a single curse word, and I plan to keep it that way.

But getting back to the meaning of this red flag, it just shows a lack of class.

If a girl doesn’t have the decency to control something as simple as her conversation, think about how ugly the rest of her lifestyle is.

#10 She’s friends with known promiscuous women. / She takes an interest in promiscuous celebrities.

What it means: She won’t be shamed for sleeping around, and she will probably be encouraged to do so.

Men compartmentalize their friends.

Of course not every guy is the same, but usually he’ll have his videogame pals, his college study group, his boys from work, his basketball squad, his fantasy football crew, and so on.

And what’s funny about all these friend buckets is that they usually include men from all walks of life.

You’ll have a mix of low income guys, wealthy guys, smart guys, dumb guys, you get the point. But as long as they all have that one thing in common, they don’t really care about much else.

Women are different.

Almost every girl I know has friends who are very similar to her. Everything from the way they dress, to the grades they get, to the income they earn, to the guys they like, and even their political stance—it’s almost always the same.

While men care more about the one activity they have in common, women focus more on similar lifestyles.

And now you see where I’m going.

You may not be able to tell if she sleeps around, but if you know her friends do, it’s a giant red flag.

Even if this girl is completely innocent, she knows her friends won’t look down on her if she does indulge, and that’s why she’s surrounded herself with them.

It’s even worse if she takes an interest in promiscuous celebrities. They’re just like her friends who get around but with additional influence and social status.

If [blank] can do [blank] and still be [blank], why can’t she?

#11 She uses New Age lingo. / She’s into horoscopes.

What it means: She won’t take responsibility for her actions.

If you meet a girl who always goes on about people’s “energy”, the workings of karma, or the meaning behind her horoscope, you need to run and run quickly.

I have numerous reasons why I wouldn’t get with a girl like this, but one of the more practical ones is that she won’t take responsibility for anything.

The stars are what drive her behavior, and she will be justified in spiting you because her negative-energy-sense was tingling.

It’s bad enough dealing with people who can’t control their impulses, but if she truly believes that “the universe” is causing her actions, avoid her at all costs.

#12 She has no discernible skills outside of her physical appearance.

What it means: She’s going down the wrong career path.

Everyone needs money. And if that need is not met, people will resort to all kinds of evil to meet it.

If this particular girl doesn’t have any marketable skills outside of being “hot”, she is going down the wrong road.

Eventually she will…

A. Find some way to make money off her appearance

B. Get bailed out by another man, or…

C. Be left in a financial hole when her beauty fades

Now you could argue that A wouldn’t be too bad of a scenario depending on the work involved (e.g. innocent modeling), but none of these are favorable to her developing a solid set of skills when she had the chance.

Not only has she put herself in a position where her beauty can be abused, but she’s also shown that she’s fine with being a drain on people’s resources.

That’s not good.

Everyone needs a strong work ethic, no matter who they are. And if she doesn’t have one, she’ll be pressured into compromising situations.

#13 She rushes the relationship. / She’s a little too perfect. / She tries too hard to seem like a good match.

What it means: She’s overcompensating.

Another tricky one here.

The average guy won’t deal with many girls like this, but the name of this site isn’t Hunger for Average, so you need to look out for this one.

As you start to care more about your appearance and get your life in order, you’ll notice that girls will seemingly come out of nowhere. And the ones you were invisible to before will make it obvious that they’re interested.

Sounds great right?

But the problem is that some of these girls won’t have the best intentions.

Almost every semi-attractive girl has been treated like a princess her whole life (and that’s one reason why a man who’s trained himself to be immune to beauty is so attractive to them).

But the side effect of this treatment is that many women expect partiality from every guy they meet. So now when they see you—a man who’s in good shape and has his life together—they don’t see a person, but rather, a tool who has the means to carry “her highness” through life.

This is particularly an issue with a girl in her late 20’s or early 30’s. Her internal clock is ticking and she knows she has to find a man before her beauty fades.

But you can’t let her clock dictate your life.

People get burned all the time by making hasty choices. And it’s a known manipulation tactic to rush people into big decisions.

Yes, there will be girls who genuinely like you, and they’ll be eager to start something special together. But you need to be aware of the other scenario too.

Beauty doesn’t get ignored. And if an attractive girl hasn’t locked down a man by this time in her life, it’s very possible that she used her beauty for other means when she was younger, and now she’s scrambling to find a man who doesn’t know any better.

Of course this isn’t always the case. Breakups happen and some people just have an unfortunate streak with relationships. But barring any significant change to her appearance, and without any other special cause, the former is a real possibility.

Remember that your interests are important too. And you are not obligated to take any dude’s leftovers simply because she needs a man now.

“But she’s changed! She’s not like that anymore! And she’s committed to doing better!”

That’s great. And I applaud her. But that doesn’t mean you owe her a relationship.

I’m all for acceptance and forgiveness, but I also know that forgiveness isn’t the removal of all consequences.

#14 She accuses you of being promiscuous, or worse, tries to prove you are.

What it means: She’s telling you how she would act if she was in your position (a.k.a. projection).

A girl who makes accusations like this doesn’t understand how any decent looking person could say no to their suitors. Especially since she could never hope to do the same.

You’re just a stupid boy who couldn’t possibly deny easy pleasure, and it’s her job to prove that assumption right.

It’s all so silly.

I’ve dealt with girls who tried to find faults that weren’t there and I had a real good laugh afterwards.

But while it is funny that a former acne-faced, overweight, emo guy would have to convince anyone he’s not about that life, I am very serious about guarding my integrity.

So if any girl accuses me of something like this, I know we need to part ways.

#15 Your gut tells you so.

What it means: You’re not comfortable with her.

Attraction is weird.

The first time anyone sees a person they like, comfort is nowhere to be found. There’s excitement, there’s anxiety, and there’s interest—not comfort.

But that all changes as time goes by.

The more you get to know someone, the more comfortable you feel around them.

The guy you thought was an antisocial creep just happens to be the life of the party. The girl you thought was such a snob before is actually kind and warm-hearted. And this new familiarity generally leads to more comfort.

But if time passes and you still don’t feel comfortable around this girl, it’s a bad sign. Your body is subconsciously telling you that something about her is off. And you know deep down that you can’t trust her.

“But didn’t you just make fun of girls and their ‘negative-energy-sense’? So how is it okay for guys to do the same thing?”

Because what I’m talking about here isn’t just a feeling. What I’m describing are physiological changes that happen solely because of this person.

Yes, it sounds far-fetched, but if you are fine around every person except her, something is wrong. And I’m not talking about a few butterflies in the stomach here.

If you start breaking a sweat when she shows up, if your sleep schedule suddenly changes, and if you’re always on your toes around her, your body is in alert mode. And instead of being able to work, or perfect your craft, or do anything else, you will constantly be thinking about her.

But again, don’t confuse this with some middle school crush obsession. This is about a girl who won’t give you any assurance that she is committed to you.

You will have to do everything to keep the relationship afloat, and that always leads to disaster. The minute you fall short in her eyes your worst fear will come true.

Of course you still want to be as attractive as possible to make her decision easy, but if the success of the relationship depends solely on you, find someone else.

Good leaders set an example for others and create a vision for the future…

They don’t do all the work.

Successful relationships will always take effort, but if you can’t relax at all with her, it’s a bad sign.

Weed ‘Em Out

So if you read this whole post, you’ve probably noticed a theme here.

All of these are signs that stem from a lack of one character trait:

Self-control.

This list is all about discerning if a girl has that one critical trait.

If she doesn’t have it, don’t try to change her, don’t make excuses for her, and please don’t waste time thinking about her. Just walk away.

And if you have a hard time doing that, ask yourself if you would help a man who acted the same way.

Sure, this may all seem cold-blooded, but when the stakes are this high, it’s always better to be safe than sorry. There is simply too much at risk when you choose a long term partner. And if you can’t trust someone you’ll eventually think about marrying, you need to end it as soon as possible.

No amount of beauty is worth the headache and embarrassment. If a woman’s actions show that she doesn’t respect you, move on and find a girl who does.

Just remember that nothing here is foolproof either. Some girls are crafty and they won’t show many of the signs listed here—but that’s okay.

The point isn’t to catch every girl who’s like this. The point is to save time by weeding out the easy ones. And once you do that, you’ll be closer to finding a girl who’s worth the investment.

So be smart, stay strong, and have a little fun too. It’s easy to get too serious about things like this, but keep a good attitude and you’ll be fine.

If you know what all to avoid, just imagine how much you can cherish a keeper.

-Drew

#relationships

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threadofdestiny · 4 years

Text

The opportunities we may take

Sinbad x Oc

Soulmate AU

Part 14

Two sides of a coin

---Kingdom of Sindria, Gardens---

Hours passed to days, days to a few weeks, since Salome and Malik had arrived in Sindria. It wouldn't be long until they reached a full month since Sinbad brought them from Dalmasca to his small kingdom, but it felt like an eternity had passed since then. It had taken a while, but over time the siblings had been able to adapt to the life in the palace and they found their own rhythm with which they began to shape their time. In addition to her training on her Djinn control, Salome had started to receive the people who sought her out for guidance as their Lady of the rukh. Many looked for advice or consolation and hoped to find it with their holy prophetess, who was always eager to help as much as she could. The king had opened his gates to those seekers, but also ordered his main adviser, Ja'far, to regulate clearly when they were allowed to see Salome. Despite the fact that Malik never stayed far away from her, Sinbad had gotten into the habit of having one of his generals and a few of his guards posted near her when she was in the presence of strangers. But above all Salome had also began to spend large parts of her free time with the eight generals and the King himself, when they were not busy.

Like many afternoons before, Sinbad and Salome took the opportunity to stroll through his well tended gardens, a place which the man had quickly learned, was one of the most preferred spots of his lovely companion. Within the short time-span of her stay, the prophetess and the king had also managed to find a relaxed rhythm with which they both felt comfortable in each others presence. Not that Sinbad changed much of his behavior, but it was the atmosphere that surrounded him that seemed to feel a little more open and honest towards her.

Salome was chuckling lightly, listening to the young king as he cheerfully described how he had escaped his adviser to be able to spend some time with the young woman, while she was picking some flowers to make a small, colorful bouquet. "Poor Ja'far! I bet he'll get wrinkles before you do, because you give him such a hard time, Sin!", commented the young lady with a tender smile on her lips as she turned to Sinbad, while she shook her head at his antics. The man, however, showed no remorse, while he crossed his arms behind the back of his head, as he sauntered next to her, grinning cheekily. "Believe me... he's used to it!", Sinbad replied in a good mood, while he stopped next to her when she turned away again, to reach for another plant, holding it thoughtfully to her small collection. "Hmm, I wonder how long it will take him to find you here in the gardens. "Salome mused aloud, before she turned back around to the king, leaving the small flower on it's stem.

Shrugging, Sinbad started to move again, but stopped immediately, when his gaze landed on something behind her. Before the girl could follow his look, however, he had began to lean down to his female companion, only to stretch his arm past her frame, to reach for something behind her. The king was so close to Salome that she felt his breath against the thin flesh of her ear, making the young woman began to blush furiously. In a shy manner, she bowed her head to let some of her windswept curls fall over her heated face. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose the moment she felt the warmth of his body radiating through his clothes, heating her smaller one. She could smell the scent of wine, sea salt and other various oriental spices lingering on his warm skin. Her senses were overrun by his presence, pushing her thoughts to wander to the few nights when they had shared the space of her bed, while drifting to sleep into each others arms. It seemed silly to get so nervous after falling asleep next to him a few times in the private of the dark, but now it was broad daylight and others would be able to see how close they really are. It felt so much more real to share an intimate moment in public. Not like their stolen moments in her chambers, that felt like treasured dreams which were to tender to share them with the rest of the world.

Only when Sinbad had straightened up again did Salome dare to let her stagnant breath escape from her lungs, before she carefully looked up at him again, just to realize that he had picked a lily from the higher flowerpots behind her. Grinning playfully, he twisted the flower between his fingers for a moment, while humming thoughtfully to himself and looking at her with appreciating eyes. "I guess I have to make the most of my time then!", the king said undeterred, before he carefully pushed the white flower behind Salome's ear. Her breath hitched again, but she didn't pull away, letting him secure his gift carefully and feeling how his fingers danced tenderly over her auricle for a brief moment, before he pulled his hand back. Salome looked up to the man with glistening eyes and opened her mouth without saying a word, while Sinbad let his gaze wander over his work before he nodded in a satisfied manner. "Perfect!", he said softly with a gentle smile on his lips.

Bashfully, the young lady lowered her eyes as she swallowed nervously. "M-Maybe you should be careful which flower you give to a person. Every flower has a meaning... So it could happen that some gestures could be misinterpreted, you know?", she explained carefully, as her fingertips danced over the soft petals of her new hair-accessory. "Well, then enlighten me. What is the meaning of this one?", the king asked in a curious manner, tilting his head inquiringly. Hesitating, Salome bit her lower lip, before she began to answer his question softly: "In the language of flowers, the white lily stands for purity, love, affection but also for a new beginning. I heard once that in some cultures lovers used to give these, when they were reunited! So... eh." Not knowing how to end her babbling without further embarrassing herself, the young lady paused briefly. Sinbad, however, chuckled lightly, reaching for her chin to lift it up and forcing her gently to look at him again. "Then it seems that I have chosen the perfect flower to give you!", answered the king in a velvet tone, before breaking into an amused laughter, when he saw her flustered expression. "After all, you are far too innocent and pure for this world!"

"Don't make fun of things like that, Sin!", Salome said in annoyance, before she paused, tilting her head to one side in a distracted manner. Concentrated, the prophetess began to listen to the rukh's whispers, not noticing how the expression in Sinbad's golden eyes softened tenderly, while he let his gaze slide over her features. When Salome turned back to the king, the purple haired man blinked shortly, before he curiously bent his head, asking in a nonverbal way what she had heard.

Excited beyond measure, the young prophetess grabbed Sinbad's arm, when she announced what the rukh had whispered to her: "He is finally here!"

Sinbad watched with interest how Salome nervously shifted her weight from one leg to the other. She stood a few steps away from him, playing excitedly with the amulet that hung around her neck, while she waited for the gates to open. The two of them resided in his throne room, keeping their silence in anticipation. The hall was quite deserted, with the exception of a part of the king's inner circle and a few guards that were posted at several doors.

Ja'far, who was sitting on the left side of his king, sighed softly, while still in a bad mood, after he had been ditched a few hours ago. Grumbling, he turned to the next page of his stack of papers which he had pinned to his clipboard, before scribbling something on the top of the document. He hadn't gotten around completely of being angry about Sinbad's neglect of his duties. Not even after the white-haired man had learned that they were expecting a relatively spontaneous guest within the same day. But in the end, this was the reason why they now lingered in the hall, waiting for their guest's arrival.

Sinbad had sent Spartos and Malik to go to the harbor, while he had convinced Salome to wait with him in the palace so as not to cause any more attention to her than necessary. Even in his own kingdom, the king did not want her to unnecessarily wander around relatively unguarded through the streets as long as the crowd around her was so fixated on the news of her presence. He felt more comfortable when she moved under his careful gaze for the meanwhile, even when he knew that Malik and Spartos would have been strong enough to protect her if necessary. But Sinbad kept that motive to himself for the time being, after all he was the one who announced her presence beforehand, so it seemed controversial to want keep her in the castle now.

While they waited for their guest to arrive, the king accordingly had enough time to study the behavior of his prophetess, as well as to wonder what he meant to her if she was already reacting so excited, before he actually had arrived.

Sinbad frowned surprisingly annoyed and crossed his arms over his chest, when Salome descended a few steps further away from him, as the tall doors began to open. Malik and Spartos, together with an unfamiliar man, led a small delegation of men and women in temple clothing inside the great hall. The style of their attire was not quite as expansive as Sinbad had seen on the recording several weeks ago, but it was unmistakably a cut that had been based on the Dalmascian robes, which were adapted for travelers.

"Well then!", Ja'far muttered next to Sinbad, before he dutifully stood to pay his respects to the guests. The rest of the generals rose slowly, as well, while Sinbad remained seated, studying the scene that played out before his eyes.

The unknown man, who led the group together with Spartos and Malik, supported himself on his ornate wooden staff, while he walked through the great hall, dragging his right leg hardly noticeable. He had a dark, neatly short shaved beard and chin-length hair that surrounded his quite handsome face in light waves. Despite his young looking features, Sinbad could tell from the gaze in his steal colored eyes, that this man must have already seen a lot in his life. His clothes consisted of a fine, high-necked white tunic that was worn down a little from his travels and a red wrap that hung from one shoulder down to his ankles and was held closed at the hips with a sand-colored cloth. As with all priests of the former Dalmasca, the amulet of the holy king hung also clearly visible around his neck, proudly resting on his chest to indicate his status.

After the king had briefly examined the newcomer and his followers, Sinbad's gaze flew to Salome, who stared at the arriving group with trembling shoulders. It didn't take long, however, until she had released her from her stupor and started to descend hurriedly the remaining steps, only to run towards her old friend in openly showed euphoria. "Isaac!" Salome shouted with exultation, before throwing herself into the leader's arms and hugging him tightly. Isaac had stopped when he saw his prophetess come running towards him to consolidate his footing before the impending collision. A small smile crept onto the man's serious expression as he pressed his free hand gently against the back of her head. "Salome!" He replied softly, closing his eyes gladly. "I'm so happy to see you!" Said the young woman happily as she pulled away from her old friend to look into his light-blue eyes. Nodding, Isaac slid his hand from the back of Salome's head to her cheek, stroking her soft skin with his ringed fingers. "Me too! You look just like the way I remember you! Blesses to the holy king to see you unharmed", he stated softly, but not surprised, after examining her carefully.

At that moment, Sinbad cleared his throat to get their attention with raised eyebrows. Salome immediately turned to look at the king in alarm, before remembering her etiquette and taking a few steps towards the reader of the waves. "King Sinbad, if I may introduce: This is one of my oldest friends, Isaac. As I have told you before, he's one of the former arch-priests of the Temple of Dalmasca.", Salome announced beaming while she curtsied at the purple-haired man, to show her good manners in public, while said man leaned back in his throne and smiled down at his lovely protege. Immediately after getting introduced, Isaac and the rest of his people got on their knees, but not without Sinbad to miss the fact how said priest briefly gave the young woman an attentive look.

"Welcome to my kingdom!", greeted Sinbad his new guests without a pause, as he put his elbows on his armrests to clasp his hands in a business-like pose in front of his chest. "We thank you for receiving us with open arms, Your Majesty!", Isaac replied solemnly, while he bowed his head a little lower in respect, before the priest slowly looked up again. Sinbad, who himself was a man who analyzed the people around him extensively, recognized the look with which Salome's childhood friend was appraising him. It was like he was trying to assess the king and compare it with what he had probably already learned from the ruler of the seven seas.

"I guess you've traveled all the way here because of Salome?" Sinbad stated in a serious tone. Isaac nodded curtly and gave the young woman a small smile as Spartos walked past them and took his position in the ranks of his king before all the generals took their places in their seats. "Yes, after I received the news from Malik that Salome was saved by you, I made the necessary preparations to go to Sindria, your Majesty.", The priest confirmed after slowly getting up again. "If you would allow me and a handful of my people, we would like to linger so that we can teach Salome as we did in the past and be of direct service to her. This and ensuring her protection were my, no our duties as priests even before Dalmasca's fall. But of course there is nowhere safer than in your care, King Sinbad, which is why the latter task has become rather secondary! But that's not the only reason we're here...", began Isaac to explain quite directly, while he put his fingertips on the golden amulet that was resting against his chest. Sinbad estimated the older man for a moment while he thought about what Salome's old childhood friend had said before the king let his gaze wander over the retinue of the former arch-priest.

"What's the other reason?" Sinbad asked calmly, without responding to Isaac's request for the time being. The arch-priest also scanned the crowd as he weighed down how detailed he should be. "You can speak freely. I place my complete confidence in each and every one of my people,", commented the King with a serious expression on his face, after he had read the dark haired man's thoughtful expression. Nodding in satisfaction, Isaac ran his hand through his hair before answering:"Just before the fall of Dalmasca, it emerged that the masters of the black rukh themselves had infiltrated our island. This, however, should have been impossible. So it can be concluded that we ourselves had traitors in our ranks. However, the person behind it had unfortunately escaped undetected. The losses within our ranks were to great to find the culprits, but of course I can guarantee, that those who followed me are free of such crimes. After... the sealing of the temple, the surviving priests set out to find out more about the black rukh and their masters background. Are you familiar with the organization 'Al Thamen'?" Sinbad nodded with a clenched jaw, while tension spread among the generals. With a grim face the king thought about the fall of his first kingdom and how said organization had played a great role in that tragedy. "Yes, I know who they are. We clashed with them a few times. It is them who are responsible for an incredible amount of injustice in this world and are therefore a thorn in our side.", answered the king with a grave tone.

A meaningful silence spread in the hall for a few moments, until Isaac began to smile with satisfaction after he heard the kings statement. "I'm happy to hear that you are working against Al Thamen. With that fact confirmed, I am able to reveal my last reason why I have traveled to Sindria.", the priest explained, while he pulled a scroll out of is his red robes. With his head bowed respectfully, Isaac held out the sealed document to Sinbad, which Ja'far accepted after the king had nodded at his consultant. Some rukh circled around the object, murmuring soft words that only Salome could hear. Listening quietly, she dropped her eyes falteringly, but otherwise continued to be silent while the men talked to each other. Sinbad inspected the item, as Isaac began to speak again: "This is a translated transcript of a part of King Solomon's writings, concerning the Reader of the waves and the Listener of the rukh. Should these two find each other, it is an arch-priests duty to hand the document to the Reader of the waves. In this scroll it is explained why King Solomon sent the prophetess into this world and which duty's she have to fulfill!"

Taking a deep breath, Salome looked up from the floor with her pupils dilated with shock, while Sinbad carefully opened the seal, after sending her a thoughtful gaze, before carefully rolling up the translation. With deliberate steps, the young woman began to climb up to the purple haired man who was sitting in his throne, while he eagerly began to read the contents of the document.

"Sin?", Salome whispered to him uncertainly when she saw the king suddenly look up at her in silence with an illegible expression. Salome nervously closed her hands in front of her chest while she waited for a reaction from the king, but it wasn't he who broke the tense silence.

"King Solomon's rukh are watching over the natural course of fate, while the black rukh, however, cause hatred and corruption, and transform this natural course of history in unnatural and tragic ways to create a fate full of cruelty to be able to form even more dark rukh, which were born within fallen individuals. In order to counteract this, the reader of the waves should use the wisdom of the Lady of the rukh. to be able to intervene if necessary.", Isaac explained in a solemn voice, while hammering the lower tip of his staff against the marble floor. The dull sound echoed through the hall like a clap of thunder.

"The knowledge about the true way of the natural flow and how it must not to be touched if not necessary was gifted to the prophetess...As well as the will and the power to change what is to be changed, which is inherent in your Majesty... in combination it will be the greatest asset against the black rukh." Isaac finished his explanation gravely. A meaningful silence spread in the hall, while all eyes rested on Sinbad and Salome, who at that moment only had eyes for one another. It was Malik who took a step forward and broke the quiet moment: "The possibilities that the two of you can seize together can completely reshape the structure of this world."

#sinbad magi #Sinbad #Adventures of Sinbad #Magi #magi labyrinth of magic #sinbadxoc

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beca-mitchell · 4 years

Text

we are the wild youth (2/5)

chapter 2: don’t leave me tongue tied

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Chapter summary: Tutoring is going well, all things considered.

Again, rated M/E for depictions and references to coitus. Chapter title is from Grouplove’s “Tongue Tied”.

Word count: 4,536

Read below or on AO3.

Beca knows Chloe is intelligent. Beca wouldn’t hold it against her if the opposite were true because Chloe also wants to work hard. She just knows it.

It’s just that Chloe seems hell-bent on making Beca’s life particularly hard.

“Okay, I know you understood this just a few days ago. I watched you do that entire set of problems.”

Chloe grins at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Beca stares, baffled at the array of papers before her. “I don’t know how you did this.”

“I just really don’t understand it,” Chloe says in a completely convincing tone.

“Your father—”

Chloe’s expression darkens immediately. “I don’t care what he wants,” she says quickly. "He doesn't control my life." She stands from the chair pulled up to Beca’s desk and instead moves to lie down comfortably on Beca’s bed, looking supremely comfortable.

Beca rolls her eyes to her ceiling and prays for patience.

It is only the second week—end of the second week, really—of tutoring Chloe and she is already near her rope’s end. “You have an assignment coming up. I can’t help you with that, Chloe.”

“I know.”

“It’s worth like...a fifth of your grade. That’s twenty percent.”

“I know what a fifth is, Beca.”

“I’m really not sure what you know anymore,” Beca exclaims, pointing out the mess of formulas and half-completed equations. “What else are you taking this semester?”

“A literature course and some other elective,” Chloe answers, still staring blankly up at Beca’s ceiling. Beca pulls up patience from the last ounces of her reserves.

“Are you purposefully failing those classes too?”

At that, Chloe sits up. “What are you talking about?”

Beca straightens and attempts to look tall. “I know you’ve taken all these classes before. The math ones at least. They’re literally the only ones you have left to get your degree. You could have graduated by now,” Beca points out unnecessarily. “Maybe with two degrees, somehow. Or at least you would have made use of the fact that you have two majors going on.”

Chloe sits up, looking thoroughly disgruntled. “Oh, you know everything about my life, do you?”

“Why are you trying to stay?” Beca asks, somewhat incredulously. “Don’t you want to get out of here? Make something of your life?”

Chloe shoots her an annoyed glance. “You literally sound like my dad right now. Wow.”

Beca blinks and suddenly feels as if she is floating back into her own body. “Chloe, I’m not—”

“You are. It’s okay. I’ve heard it all. From him, from my mom. It's...whatever.”

It isn’t that Chloe sounds overtly defeated but the words themselves are enough to make a pang rush through Beca’s chest. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t appropriate,” she murmurs.

I know the feeling all too well.

And another thought—

We’re the same.

With that in mind, Beca returns to her own work, unable to do more than file that away for later. Maybe never to return to that thought. It’s a lot for a Thursday afternoon.

Chloe tucks her bottom lip between her teeth as she contemplates Beca from her perch on Beca’s bed. She begins to sit up slowly. “You could totally make it up to me though.”

“How?” Beca asks distractedly, writing down some corrections and explanations to go through with Chloe later. “Wait,” she says quickly. “I don’t have to make anythi…” she trails off upon actually looking up and catching the very pointed and heated expression Chloe is shooting her. “Uh,” she fumbles with her pen. “No,” she says firmly. “I’m not going to…” she glances at her door as if wary that one of her roommates is about to walk past. “I’m not going to have sex with you again,” she hisses.

“Uh huh,” Chloe says, standing slowly.

Beca puts down her pen. “I’m not.” She quickly crosses her arms over her chest, not missing the way Chloe’s eyes drift down to her chest. “Chloe,” she warns half-heartedly. “Chloe Beale.”

“A break,” Chloe suggests, reaching out to rub Beca’s shoulders as she moves to stand behind her, leaving Beca’s line of sight. Beca’s heart races uncontrollably despite the pleasurable sensation flowing through her shoulders. “A short one.” Her breath ghosts Beca’s ear as she leans down. “Or a long one, I don’t mind.”

Beca’s posture slackens as Chloe’s fingers knead into her shoulders expertly. “You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“With who?” Chloe asks softly, leaning down to press a kiss against Beca’s neck, then another when Beca doesn’t protest. “Nobody’s here. Just you and me,” she whispers. An intimate secret between the two of them.

Their own little world.

“Just…” Beca’s eyes flutter shut as Chloe’s hands move down to cup her breasts with achingly precise movements. “Make it quick,” she rasps in a last ditch attempt to regain some control on the situation. With each heaving breath she takes, she presses her chest into Chloe’s hands, much to Chloe’s delight.

Chloe’s laugh is playful, yet dark. It makes all kinds of heat shoot straight between Beca’s legs. “As the tutor commands.”

- - x - -

Thus far, Chloe has barely taken instruction from Beca seriously, so Beca isn’t sure why she had expected it from her at all.

Her earlier make it quick demand had been nothing but a smokescreen. It had been a show, a farce perhaps, of Chloe letting Beca think she had any authority near her when there was a bed so close to them.

If freshman-year Beca could see her now.

Chloe is anything but quick. She is thorough and precise, with how deeply she presses her tongue between Beca’s legs.

“Please,” Beca begs, not recognizing her own voice, laced with all kinds of desire and lust. “Chloe, please.”

Chloe hums, nipping around the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her teeth, blunt and even, drag across Beca’s flesh leisurely like Chloe has all the time in the world to do this. To taste every last drop of Beca.

“Please what?” she murmurs after kissing her way back up Beca’s body. “Tell me. Tell me what to do.”

Beca’s mind stutters to a stop, suddenly unable to form coherent words of any kind. A deep, pitiful whine escapes her instead when Chloe’s hips settle firmly between her legs, parting them further.

“How about this?” Chloe suggests, dragging her fingers up Beca’s slit teasingly before rubbing firm circles against her aching clit.

Chloe is full of good suggestions, Beca thinks as a final parting thought before she is nodding vigorously and pulling Chloe in for a deep, messy kiss. As surely as Chloe's tongue pushes into her mouth, Chloe's fingers gently ease their way through Beca's folds with familiarity. Beca groans deeply, arching her body right up into Chloe's, trying not to pump her hips too impatiently. She tries, but she's not much better at being patient.

Chloe nips along her jaw, alternating between sharp grazes of her teeth and soothing strokes of her tongue. Beca can vaguely make out a pattern of sorts, trying to ground herself in a rhythm of some kind.

"Stop thinking," Chloe mumbles before she captures Beca's lips again.

Somewhere behind them, Beca’s notebook flutters from the wind gently blowing through the open window.

- - x - -

It is only later that Beca accidentally picks up Chloe's phone. She sees a long message from Dad and the length makes her think that it is her own phone. It is only as she sweeps her hair back and focuses her bleary eyes on the message that she sees words like 'clinic' and 'responsibility' and 'disappointment' that it occurs to her that this is in fact not her phone. She glances over her shoulder to see Chloe watching her tiredly, much of the previous bliss now wiped completely from her face.

"Sorry," Beca murmurs as Chloe curls an arm over her. She thinks Chloe is reaching for the phone. "I didn't realize..." she trails off as Chloe casually loosens Beca's grip from her phone and lets it tumble to Beca's carpeted floor.

"I'll respond to him later," Chloe says, putting her hand low on Beca's abdomen. "I'm busy right now."

Beca can't disagree with that and soon forgets about anything else.

- - x - -

One-on-one time with Chloe isn’t what Beca anticipated for her final year at Barden.

Chloe gives Beca the impression that she has dreams of her own.

Beca would never presume that a person didn’t have dreams, but there is something about Chloe that Beca longs to figure out; something that she longs to unlock.

It’s in the way Chloe’s gaze unfocuses sometimes. How she stares at her textbook without really looking. It’s in the way Chloe sighs and pulls out a novel on dreary days, reading instead of studying despite Beca’s feeble protests. It’s in the way Chloe smiles when she listens to music, like each emotion courses through her freely—the most free she’s ever felt.

The last one, Beca identifies with the most. She sees a lot of herself in Chloe’s demeanor. She forgets often that Chloe is older than her by three years—it seems like nothing, after all, in the grand scheme of their lives.

She slips sometimes in her own thoughts, wandering and wandering until she finds herself imagining what Chloe would be like as a friend.

She longs to ask—longs to ask between hurried trysts, books shoved to the floor in Beca’s living room; longs to ask when Chloe’s breath washes across her neck in steady deep breaths—she longs to ask whether they could be friends, even as they slip further and further from any sense of normalcy.

“What?” Chloe murmurs, barely looking up from her calculator.

Beca bites her lip. “Nothing,” she replies quietly.

It really is nothing. Beca intends on keeping it that way, at least.

- - x - -

Chloe hey, want to grab a coffee?

Beca we don’t have a session today

Chloe i know, dork

Beca ok

- - x - -

"I'm not really a fan of coffee anyway," Chloe murmurs before she presses a deep, lingering kiss against Beca's waiting mouth. Beca, still trying to catch her breath, stutters out a gasp, arching deliciously against Chloe's body like she has nowhere else in the world to be. Somewhere, faintly, she knows they should stop. She should stop Chloe's hand from travelling down between her legs again. She should stop her own body from reacting so insistently; she should stop herself from spreading her legs further, but she can't. She can't do more than be helpless for Chloe's touch; she can't do more than crave this visceral form of intimacy. The primal urges that well up from deep within her whenever she gets so much within touching distance.

"Beca?" Chloe asks, voice low and wanting.

Beca breathes out deep, more awake than ever. "Yeah," she murmurs.

"Tell me you want me again."

"God, yes."

Beca can't say that she's a big fan of coffee anymore either.

- - x - -

“I didn’t know you were into this stuff,” Chloe says one day in November. As it nears the end of the Fall semester, Beca finds herself more frantic than ever, thus more clumsy. More accepting of people like Chloe specifically into her life and into her personal space.

Like now, with Chloe lounging at Beca’s bedroom desk, making herself comfortable at Beca’s computer.

“Hey,” Beca chastises. She stands and pulls her headphones away from Chloe’s head. “No touching.” She quickly closes her laptop, feeling a strange rush of embarrassment despite the knowledge that all she wants to do is share music with the world one day.

Somehow the thought of Chloe’s judgment means more than anything Beca could have ever imagined for herself.

Chloe pouts. “Sorry, it was open.” Beca frowns a moment longer. “I’m sorry,” Chloe emphasizes, looking apologetic and sincere. “I didn’t mean to be so nosy with your stuff.”

“Well that ‘stuff’ is my future, okay?” It bursts out of Beca before she can stop herself and she flushes, embarrassed. Not many people even know about this, with the exception of Jesse, Luke who graduated, her dad, and like two other people whom Beca deemed worthy (and who had wanted to listen to her music).

“I didn’t mean...” Chloe trails off, correctly assessing that Beca isn’t one to dwell on embarrassing moments or outbursts. Beca appreciates that. “Did you ever play this while you were the campus radio host?” Chloe asks. “Or other…” Chloe contemplates her words. “Mixes?”

“Some,” Beca says vaguely. When she looks up she realizes Chloe is watching her intently, causing her to blush furiously under all the attention Chloe is giving her.

“Why aren’t you still working there this year?” Chloe wonders.

“Because I’m leaving and it isn’t worth tying myself down to that place,” Beca replies shortly.

Her words strike a chord between the both of them, harsher than Beca intends but words were never her forte, hence the multitude of lyric-less arrangements she has sitting on her harddrive.

In the ensuing silence, Beca hesitantly looks up to meet Chloe’s eyes from across the table. Chloe looks unphased, which is unnerving on its own.

But Beca realizes that she looks sad.

“I—”

“Oh, it’s just—” Chloe laughs and cuts her off quickly. “Bummer, I would have enjoyed hearing your shows. Nice study breaks. I think you’re very talented, by the way. Just an observation.”

Beca isn’t sure what to say to all of that, so she chances another glance at Chloe who looks even more embarrassed.

Chloe looks away, an atypical blush creeping across her cheeks.

Beca exhales at the sight—an intriguing and appealing sight to be sure—and tries to will away the heat rising in her cheeks as well. She’s sure her cheeks are red. “Thank you,” she finally murmurs, keeping her emotions in check.

So much for normalcy.

“I do think you’re very talented, by the way,” Chloe says before she leaves that evening. “I didn’t mean to pry, but I think it’s cool. Like super cool that you’re committed to what you want.”

“I...yeah. I, sorry for snapping. I guess I kind of just don’t really share this stuff with people.”

Chloe smiles at her, leaning against the doorframe. “Well, if you ever need another pair of ears.”

Beca swallows, unsure where the sudden urge to kiss Chloe comes from. She tamps it down and stares at the center of Chloe’s nose. “Thank you.”

Chloe grins at her for a few moments longer before she slings her bag over her shoulder and finally makes her way down the hallway. “Bye Beca,” she singsongs from down the hall.

- - x - -

Beca can hear Chloe in her music. It’s in the melodies and the harmonies. It’s in the downbeats. The offbeats.

It’s in everything, permeating through the very essence of her work.

She pulls her headphones down around her neck, pressing her forehead against her palms.

Shit.

- - x - -

“I have an idea,” Beca says, dropping her bag by Chloe’s feet. She stands over Chloe who is hunched over her books in her favorite corner of the library.

“What’s that?” Chloe asks, lifting her head slowly to smile at Beca. Her gaze tracks down Beca’s body slowly making Beca somehow feel severely underdressed despite the thick sweater and overcoat she’s wearing.

She frowns, drawing the lapels of her coat closer together. “A proposition, if you will,” Beca drawls.

Chloe’s eyes seem to glimmer, making Beca’s heart race more than she could have ever anticipated given their surroundings. “What is it, Bec?” she repeats in a less suggestive tone. The nickname tumbles from her mouth easily, like she had been saying it all her life. Beca can’t say she minds.

“I...made some study mixes for you,” Beca says, feeling her face grow hot at the immediate and excited smile that stretches across Chloe’s lips. She immediately holds her hands out in front of Beca, expectation written in her eyes. “But, I’ll only give you a new one each time you finish a practice exam.”

Chloe groans, dropping her hands. “Beca,” she whines in a tone that reminds Beca of just two weeks ago. Chloe’s voice echoing in the communal shower stalls. Beca’s heart racing at the thought of being caught. Beca’s heart racing at the sight of Chloe coming apart beneath her hands. “Come on, I got this.”

“It’s incentive,” Beca argues.

“It’s torture,” Chloe replies dramatically. She sighs. “But something is better than nothing. Gimme.”

Beca, pleased by the reception to her idea, hands Chloe the precious USB. It touches her more that Chloe wants to listen to her music—that Chloe wants to hear what she has to say. Granted, it’s through music, but Chloe, more than anybody thus far has proven to be a staunch supporter.

A cheerleader, even.

A friend.

Though the definitive period at the end of that assessment feels less and less like a period and more like a question mark. Beca is pretty sure that even if she weren’t considering the extremely inappropriate circumstances under which they are continuing to sleep with each other, she’s sure that they aren’t just friends anymore, if they ever were.

It’s frustrating.

“Hey, Bec?” Chloe asks while pulling out her laptop. Beca tries to clear her head and hums in response. “My...parents are wondering if you want to come over for dinner sometime next week. Probably Wednesday or Thursday night. I know you don’t have night class or anything.”

It isn’t what Beca is expecting at all. “They what?”

“It’s just, um...I guess they want to thank you? For helping me.”

“They’re already paying me.”

“Just come, Beca,” Chloe says with a gentle smile. “They won’t bite. Much.” She laughs, a little hollowly. “They might not even notice you’re there if I’m being honest.”

Beca wants to inquire more, but it is that moment when Jesse materializes at her side, smiling at both her and Chloe like they’re all great friends. Beca chances a glance at Chloe and notes her carefully-neutral expression.

“What?” Beca asks, attempting not to be abrupt. She tries, really, but she’s still kind of reeling from the fact that Chloe asked her to literally meet her parents. She feels hot all over and quickly pulls off her scarf.

“Bec, it’s USC. They got back to me. I’m in. Early admittance. And since—”

“They what? Oh my God! Jesse, that’s amazing!”

She pulls him in for a hug, uncaring that a passing library staffer shushes her. Behind her, Chloe giggles.

“I—I guess you just weren’t answering your phone and you mentioned you had tutoring, so…” Jesse steps back and smiles again at Chloe, albeit a bit more hesitantly.

“That’s me,” Chloe says. “I’m the tutoring. Congrats by the way,” she says sincerely, with no small measure of kindness. “I don’t really know you that well, but that’s amazing, friend of Beca’s.”

“I know,” he says, relieved. “I mean, I guess I didn’t know until just now. But I’m getting out of here.”

“That’s—yeah. Wow,” Beca murmurs.

“You will too, Beca.”

“I have to,” she says without really thinking about it.

Something shifts in the air, but it is only perceptible to Beca. Or so she thinks. She forces a smile on her face and when she turns back to face Chloe, she sees the same expression mirrored back at her.

She forgets to give Chloe a response.

- - x - -

Chloe Titanium?? You really shouldn’t have

Beca what do you mean

Chloe That song used to be my lady jam ;) if you know what i mean

Beca …

Chloe it’s making a comeback tonight, i guess

Beca Chloe! Do not use my homework-incentive music to get yourself off!

- - x - -

(It is admittedly kind of hot, the thought that Chloe gets off to that song. Hotter still, the thought that Chloe’s going to get off to Beca’s spin on the song.

It’s kind of hot because she can see Chloe vividly - the flush in her cheeks and the swell of her lips. Somehow more swollen even without Beca’s ministrations because she’s biting her own lip and trying not to cry out or scream or moan or whimper.

It’s the kind of hot that makes Beca put her music on, bite her lip, and slowly push her hand down her underwear.

That kind of hot.

But Beca kind of just wants to know if Chloe likes her music.

It’s weird.)

- - x - -

(To be fair, things have been increasingly weird and Beca has no idea how to deal with it.)

- - x - -

Beca isn’t sure how to explain it, but the rift between her and Chloe only seems to grow over the next week. Chloe cancels tutoring and Beca begrudgingly agrees only because she knows Chloe actually does understand the content. The more selfish part of her wants to see Chloe, however.

She misses her.

It’s weird.

What’s weirder is that she does end up seeing Chloe on one of their scheduled tutoring days and it is completely accidental. Beca ends up volunteering at the community center at the behest of one of her Residual Heat co-workers. Well, she had started volunteering over the summer. It ended up carrying through to the rest of the semester.

She’s still brushing glitter off her hands, a sneak attack from one of her more rowdy students (and she’s dreading cleaning the glitter off her laptop when she gets home), when she sees Chloe through the glass doors leading to the dance studio.

Chloe, with her hair up in a messy ponytail, wearing a plain white t-shirt and black leggings, somehow looking more attractive than ever.

Beca gulps, watching Chloe gently guide a little girl’s arms into the right positions, clapping excitedly when her student seemingly succeeds in nailing down a specific series of moves. Beca gapes, unsure where her surprise comes from really. It’s not really that she has trouble merging this image of Chloe with the one she has in her mind (relaxed demeanor and leather jacket, easy smile to send Beca’s heart into a tailspin), but it’s just that this is so…

This is more like Chloe Beale—both the image of her in her mind and the Chloe she has come to know slowly over time. It is indescribably sweet and tender, the way Chloe exudes a certain gentleness.

Beca finds herself smiling the more she watches Chloe, so much so that she doesn’t even realize Chloe has spotted her until Chloe raps sharply on the glass pane and raises an eyebrow at her. Beca startles and mouths a hello at Chloe, waving awkwardly. Chloe waves back, albeit hesitantly and glances around like she isn’t quite certain if she wants Beca to know this about her.

“I’ll just go,” Beca says quickly. Chloe frowns, gesturing at her ear. “Oh,” Beca says awkwardly. She gestures with her hands. “I’ll just—” she points towards the exit. “Go,” she finishes lamely.

Chloe shrugs, waving at Beca and returning to her class.

The thing is, Beca ends up waiting for Chloe. She waits because for some reason, a force compels her to stay and she’s kind of tired of fighting it. It is only fitting that Chloe rounds the corner just as Beca finishes listening to a new song she had been tinkering with over the past week—it is fitting because the song, like so many others, reminded her so much of Chloe.

Chloe is surprised to see her waiting on a bench right by the exit with her bicycle. “You stayed,” she comments as she nears.

“I’m uh…” Beca grips her bike to steady herself. “I didn’t know you taught here too.”

Chloe’s cheeks are flushed, not from the cold, but from embarrassment. As if she has just been caught doing something she shouldn’t. “It’s just for some spare change and I enjoy it.”

“That’s…” Beca still sees the vision of Chloe bending down, ruffling her student’s hair, looking cheerful, affectionate, and most importantly, carefree. Beautiful. “Nice,” she says instead. “That’s nice of you,” she reiterates.

Chloe pauses like she expects Beca to say something else, but relief crosses her face when nothing else comes. “Thank you.” Chloe’s brow furrows and some tension appears to leave her shoulders. “What were you doing here?”

“I volunteer at the community center.” Beca shrugs. “Just to pass time. Teaching kids how to use Garageband. It’s almost like I work in an Apple store, but less fancy. They spend most of their time figuring out if there are fart noises in the stock audio.”

“You’re an angel aren’t you?” Chloe reaches out to squeeze her cheek, an action that Beca finds herself not shying away from to her own surprise. “Do you have another mix for me then?”

Beca swats her hand away playfully and leans out of Chloe’s grasp. “No, because you haven’t given me your completed practice exam.”

Chloe grumbles and draws her sweater around her shoulders. “I thought they were made specially for me.”

They are, Beca thinks immediately but quickly stifles the thought by clenching her fist in her jacket pocket. “With conditions,” she says instead, attempting a grin. “Need a ride?” Beca asks when she notices Chloe simply stuffing her hands into her pockets.

Chloe eyes her bike. “On that?”

“You can wear my helmet.”

Chloe mock-gasps, but accepts the helmet nonetheless. “Fine,” she says. “But only because I live like two blocks away and you seem responsible.”

“I’m very responsible. As your tutor, your safety is my responsibility.”

“Is it now? I thought education was your responsibility.”

“I’m making it my responsibility,” Beca declares. “Get up here.”

“You do care!”

More than you can imagine.

Somehow they manage: Chloe tells her where her apartment is; Chloe sits on her handlebars and Beca peddles as steadily as she can; it is quiet for the most part, save for Chloe’s giggling whenever Beca swerves to avoid a rock; it is oddly romantic.

Beca isn’t afraid of falling, not with her chin hooked over Chloe’s shoulder so she can see as best as she can.

Her heart pounds nonetheless, with Chloe’s warmth enveloping her.

Chloe smells like cherry blossoms and sunshine.

It’s a different kind of falling.

“Come in?” Chloe asks, eyes bright with promise and more.

Beca knows she shouldn’t—she really shouldn’t. Not when all these feelings, new and old, ripple inside her with a multitude of swirling uncertainties.

She shouldn’t take Chloe’s hand and follow her up to her apartment. She shouldn’t let Chloe’s lips latch onto her neck while her hands hastily push at the clothes on Beca’s body. She shouldn’t let Chloe guide her gently into the shower—she shouldn’t beg for more when Chloe’s fingers slip inside her aching cunt.

She shouldn’t, but her body cries out for Chloe in more ways than one and she helpless to do anything more than be swept away by the tide of her emotions.

Beca shouldn’t stay overnight, something they have been careful about not doing in the past, but she does. She folds herself into Chloe’s arms and falls asleep to the sound of Chloe’s deep, even breaths in her ear. She lets her body sink into Chloe’s touch.

She stays because she’s tired of fighting the one thing that has made her feel the most alive she’s ever felt in her four years at Barden.

/end chapter 2

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#bechloe #fanfiction #pitch perfect #mine #my fanfic #text #we are the wild youth

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