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impaladolan · 4 years

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Capture - Grayson Dolan [1/-]

summary: a typical morning run leads to a new life of monstrous things you’d never want to speak of in front of your own mother.. ;)

warnings: not exactly smut— but some bdsm elements, swearing, and a kinda short little chapter for this soon-to-be series!

YOUR rapid breaths aligned with the pattern of your feet created a musical rhythm for your excessively beating heart to follow, your lips muttering numbers that you really didn't know why you were counting. You could see your breath in the shallow light that cascades from each lamp-fixture littered with moths and flys that linger still in the early midst of the morning. The exuberating feeling of the cool air entering and exiting your lungs each moment was what you lived for. Though it was the very first task of the day, it was all around your favorite. To wake up around four in the morning and run a couple miles before six o'clock made you feel on top of the world. And it never feels better than it does in the fall season, where the autumn leaves decorate the ground beneath you and the air frigid but nice against your rosy cheeks. You always dread when the winter came, needless to say that you've fell a time or two on the slippery sidewalks of New Jersey in the middle of January. But that didn't stop you, though your tailbone suffered for a month or two.

But this morning's air felt different.

You couldn't necessarily put a finger on it, but it just had an off-putting feeling that made the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Maybe it was the obnoxiously loud barking dog yanking on it's bound chains or the screeching pussy cat settled in a tin garbage can, it all just felt eerie and ominous.

Subconsciously, you decided to take a breather break and have a seat on a nearby bench. Your chest rose and fell at a quick pace, much like your running, as you sat yourself down, soon to study the area around you. Tame Impala soothingly played through the earphones engulfed by your ears, a soft humming of the lyrics coming from your own mouth as your breaths began to steady. It was incredibly nice out, with barely any wind and a chilled atmosphere surrounding your active body was the perfect mixture for the start of a day. It felt almost too nice..

Yes, you appreciated the lyrics and productions of Tame Impala's songs, but if it weren't for those soft rhythms, you would've heard the obvious crackle of a broken, stepped on stick not too far behind you. You would've heard the soft breaths that heaved and hoed around you. Even the ever so quiet chuckle of a presumable man's presence hidden in the creeping darkness. So when this dark figure approached your sound persona, you had no clue. It came to you as a surprise when the sudden pressure of a cloth clashed against both of you airways. Only out of fright did you largely inhale the calming scent that made your eyelids droop. You faded in and out of consciousness, remembering the little details you could grasp at the few times your eyes were open. One moment you felt as though you were quite a bit taller, maybe thrown over a giants shoulder. And another, where the cushiony seats of a fine smelling vehicle wrapped you in a warmth you didn't know your body needed. But after hearing the faint click of a seatbelt, your body was limp and useless, so your eyes permanently shut out of fatigue and tiredness.

It feels like a dream, it has to be a dream.

To wake up in such a beautifully furnished room surrounded by a puffy duvet and comfy pillows laid beneath your head was far from what you last remembered—which wasn't much at all. You remember waking up, getting dressed and heading out for a run, as usual, but the rest was too foggy and it made your overbearing headache worsen. So instead of focusing on how you may have gotten in such a lovely room, you exchanged your thoughts to where your are in the meantime. It was no secret that you were definitely settled in someone else's bed, distinguishably a man's since the colors of the room were neutral and gray. Tall glass windows that cover the entirety of the wall on your left where showcasing the glimmering rise of the sun, but it wasn't very bright considering the drowsy overcast that hung around.

It kinda fit your mood, actually.

But nonetheless you needed to figure out how to exactly leave the nice comfort of the mattress you were sprawled across. Though, the attempt to leave was absurd. Your limbs ached as much as your head does, which is a great amount, and it felt near impossible to even lift your head in the slightest. So with a sigh of defeat, you retire back to your former position, except this time there was the view of the unmoving ceiling.

Contrary to your aches and pains, your body jolted upward when the loud, intrusive sound of a heavy door opening invaded the large space around you. You didn't dare look to your right, towards what could be the reason you were in such a place. The spaced out footsteps that smacked against the marble flooring, due to lack of footwear, became near and you just couldn't resist the slight opening of your eyes.

Low and behold, an angel of a man stood before you, with a sheepish grin and a button nose. He was shirtless, thankfully, but his lower half was covered by a pair of dark sweatpants that nicely shaped his long legs for him. His chiseled abs and biceps that were proudly on display almost seemed like a magazine cover, even his narrow jawline contributed to beauty. You suddenly felt your eyes widen and your body heat rise extremely quick. Oh god, his glossy hazel eyes that scoured your sleep-ridden face made your core almost want to explode. Your cheeks turned red by the immediate aroused thoughts that clouded your brain. Never did you ever think you'd find a capturer so handsome..

"Morning, sweetheart.." And his voice, ooh, it cut the air with a deep masculinity that you weren't even sure if you could handle any more of it. It took a second before you could finally come to your senses and realize that this man could possibly be the one that had taken you when you were off guard and oblivious to the plans of someone or some man.

You briefly coughed before announcing, "I'm not your sweetheart, sir.." It felt weird talking, almost foreign. Your throat was dry and scratchy while your mouth was the same, it was hard to even move your tongue, but you managed your sassy remark. "Not sir, Daddy." He corrected with a stern look. In an instant your entire face was engulfed by a dark red that made your eyes water with surprise and shock.

Daddy?

You've never thought to call anybody this absurd name, not even did you call your own father daddy. It never occurred to your liking, but this struck different. The way his lips formed the word and how his voice rasped made your body fall into a spell of tinglings and your core had never ached so bad— you were in need to at least touch it, or relieve the consuming pain it withheld. "Excuse me?" Your shivery voice belted, though it contrasted against your lingering thoughts and bodily needs. "You heard me, sweetheart. If I hear you call me anything but Daddy, you'll be ruined and punished. Understand?" He was stern and sexy at the exact same time, and your head was in a whirlwind. While one part of your wanted to bolt up and slap him, the other majority wanted to test him, maybe actually make him punish you.

"Oh, but sir? I'm not exactly sure if I do understand.." Oh god, the fury that came across his face when the lack of a name was present in your little sentence. You almost thought he'd kill you right then and there, but the tightness in his jaw slacked and a smirk rose on his lips. A scream was caught in your throat when you felt his large hands lift you out of the overwhelming comfort of the duvet, and sprawl you across his knees with your ass fixed high up in the air. At that moment, you noticed the black, silky nightgown you've never seen or purchased before, that clings to your body quite nicely. But the thought vanished when the same pair of hands lifted the ends of the gown and scrunched it all the to your chest. You gasped when his fingers lightly touched your regrettably soaked folds before he pulled the matching black silk thong down your slightly shaking legs.

"It's clear as fucking daylight. Maybe you need a lesson on how to actually fucking listen to instruction, yeah?" He growled while his hand clutches your right ass cheek with a firm grip. His anger had only increased the slippery mess that your core withheld, but you could never admit to that. "I'm quite sure I know how to take fucking instructions S—A-aah!" The pain of an uncalled smack against your ass silenced you from any snood remark you could muster. "Better shut that loud fuckin' mouth of yours before it gets you in some more trouble." He seethed, repeating his actions, but the harmful truth to it was that you, in fact, enjoy the pleasureful pain he was proceeding with, one slap at a time until both of your cheeks were a rosy red and your nipples were sharpened to their farthest extent. God, you never wanted to be fucked more than you do in this moment.

But he had other plans.

Although, the plans didn't exactly involve you. He roughly picked you up and laid you back onto the bed, the sight of your hazy eyes and the longing look on your face almost made him want to fuck you right then and there, but he sadly restrained. He swiftly walked away, to where he presumably came from in the first place, but he stopped mid-step to turn around and demand one last thing.

"Don't you dare fucking touch yourself, sweetheart. Or you'll be sorry you even came by those flimsy fingers of yours." His last words had you feeling worse than before and made you want to "break the rules," because whatever he would do to you would be ten times better if he were mad, right?

to be continued...

(masterlist)

#dolan twins #dolan twins smut #grayson dolan #writing #dt #ethan dolan #ethan grant dolan #ethan dolan smut #dolantwins #grayson dolan smut #smut #wrote this at 3am #;)#love you 4 reading this :)#capture #gray #dtfan10m

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timerainseternal · 3 years

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Who’s your favorite character of tua and why

I enjoy most of the characters in Umbrella Academy, but my favorite is Five! As for why, there are a lot of reasons, but I think, writing-wise it's because I don't know what he will do at any given moment, but I trust where he's going. This is a difficult balance to pull off, but I'll try to explain exactly what I mean and why I feel that way.

Firstly, I don't know what he'll do, which makes him interesting to watch. He's full of contradictions in many ways, he's very resourceful, and he's written as someone who is extremely smart. (Though another thing I find interesting is that unlike with many other "genius" characters, intelligence--as in knowledge or ability like with his scribbling-on-the-walls math--isn't his primary trait, at least not to me. Before that I would say that he is at least determined, as well as resourceful in a way that isn't linked strictly to book smarts. Instead, he's driven on sustained desperation that "geniuses" never seem to get in media, and even though he's so smart and generally competent, his plans often or always fail, which I actually made a whole post about. Even further, we know he's 58, so his knowledge is based not only on natural ability, but also a lot of work and time, which is also not the general presentation. We know he's smart, but figuring out time travel took him a whole lifetime.) Anyway, even his power set is...fluidly defined. I don't know what plans he will make, or what side effects will follow--only that, based on past experience, side effects will follow. As such, I'm very entertained watching him constantly pivoting and coming up with new ideas and plans, especially since I think he gets more plot turns than anyone else in the series, or at least is a more active force in those turns.

His choices also showcase the desperation that is at the core of him, and the moral greyness that comes from it. He's not bound by normal considerations like most of the others are; often, he doesn't even consider them. What might be off-limits to others isn't off-limits to him (which is like his powers in a funny kind of way). But really, it all stems from the fact of having lost everything with his 45-year stint in the apocalypse and the loneliness that comes from that. It's an interesting philosophical thought experiment. What are morals in a dead world? What are a few thousand people compared to the end of humanity? What are we if everything else gets stripped away?

And for Five, the answer is not in the violence we've seen him commit, but instead the love he shows. He was presented as a prickly genius who is smarter than everyone and knows everything (like he says to Allison in ep 1) and who is also a time-travelling assassin hardened by decades in a wasteland. We expect competence, cold calculation, and a near-complete lack of empathy. But then we meet Dolores, and we learn that he's doing everything for his family, and we see that everything he does is for love of other people. Specific other people, sure, but love nonetheless. And he isn't cool about it, isn't aloof; he's lost it all before, and he's desperate, and nothing he does--despite what most shows tell you about geniuses--really fixes any problem completely, and especially not the relationships that got broken when he left.

Yet even despite all that, he's also predictable in a way that lets me trust him. Obviously, as an audience, we see how pressing and devastating the apocalypse is. It's the end. Yet none of the other characters understand that the way we do, or the way Five does. His ultimate goal is to stop that from happening and protect his family, and given his life experience, I know that there is nothing that will stop him as long as he's around. I trust that his character will make decisions towards an end goal that I agree with as the audience, and that as long as that remains true, I know that even if I don't know where he's going with a plan, I can at least trust his intent. Even with the Commission, where he worked as an assassin and presumably murdered innocents, the end goal is great enough that it makes sense. Moreover, though, is that once we see that his motivation is for love and to protect, not from a place of sadism or superiority, and that he will even listen to others to find a less violent workaround (as with Luther in s1), I trust his intentions even more.

That's part of what makes the murder of the Board, and then the aftermath, so interesting: it's a study in contradiction, the urge to be violent and feel seen and effective and successful, contrasted with a sense of guilt and remorse and an understanding that it's not the best version of himself. He's warring with those instincts, but the writers have portrayed him in a way that allows for understanding and sympathy.

For another thing, as I think @the-aro-ace-arrow-ace mentioned, given his unique standing as both 13 and 58, he can't really have a romantic relationship to pull him away like the others can, nor do I think he would if he could, considering the timespan the show tends to give him. He's not really in the mindset for romance at all, and especially not a romance that would distract him from his goals. Not only was Dolores an extension of his own mind for a long time, but also was one he was willing to abandon, first going with the Handler, then again towards the end of season 1. Not only does this make his goals less likely to be swayed from what I, as an audience member, consider to be important, but also romance as the sort of "love at first sight, I will prioritize you over everyone else without any real merit behind it" is always a bit flimsy to me. Maybe I'm a little too aromantic to get it, but I generally find it a bit distracting at best unless done really well. (I did like Raymond and Allison as a couple. I thought that was done really well, where they had time and chemistry and respect for each other, and I enjoyed the time they spent together. It doesn't hurt that Allison is my second favorite, but it stands well even besides that. It's just a good relationship.)

Finally, all of that plays into Five's relationships with others. He isn't good at being a social creature (understandable), yet that's what he values most: his family. He wants to be empathetic--and in many cases he can be--but he's battling his own inability to be understood. He doesn't even fully understand himself in the world he left when he was a child. In a very real sense, he can't do what has become most important to him--not that his siblings are the best role models for communication. It makes sense, then, that he was able to seemingly connect with Reginald. Five wants to connect with the people he missed and felt like he wronged, no matter if he actually was in the wrong or not. He so often gets ignored/misunderstood/considered crazy that even as someone just watching that conversation, it felt cathartic for him to be listened to and taken seriously, even if I think Reginald is the absolute worst and that the best thing for him to do would be to stay dead. Five thought he was being the most rational of his siblings in that supper, but he didn't realize that his biases were as strong or stronger, and just had a different root. His relationships with others are his strongest desire/goal/motivator, but he has such a distorted perception of the way the world works on a daily, interpersonal level and also who he is in that world, that he can't really make it work right, and that's really neat to watch.

In my mind, also, what Five is looking for isn't actually his family from 2019. It isn't even his family from 2002, or at least not just them. I think that what he wants is to be who he was when he left, before he got stuck in the apocalypse. He wants his family because he loves them--I don't doubt that, and I don't want to discredit it--but also because I think in some sense he believes that if he can just be with them again, he can make things the way they used to be, the way he used to be. He's kind of like Luther in that regard, except that Luther is beginning to move on, and Five is stuck in it. The tragedy in this, of course, is that he's the time traveller here, and no matter what time he goes to, his only choice is forwards for himself. He can't go back, even if he reaches the exact moment he left. This, of course, is speculation--or analysis, if we use the kinder term--but I think it shows how much can be read into his character based on his choices and narrative arc, and that in itself is interesting whether it was intended or not.

So, that's an overly long answer to your question! It's Five because I think he's interesting, and I think he's interesting because the writers have backed themselves into a corner where he kind of has to be. I hope that was what you were looking for!

#asks #tua asks

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lemonietrinket · 4 years

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Save A Nation ||| Johnny x Reader

Summary: Johnny knows how hot he is. Oh he knows. He also knows that a certain someone has had a crush on him for a very long time. And he also knows you’re not confident enough to address it. But this is the catch for you, you see: because he is. Genre: Fluff? I don’t think it is... But it ain’t exactly hardcore smut, is it? If ya’ll wanna kiss John Seo then this is a fic that caters to that very purpose, kk Warning(s): Johnny. Word Count: 2965 how is this longer than the min&joo one wHaT Theme Songs: Flower Shower - Hyuna; Who Is In Your Heart Now? - Studio Killers AN: December 13 prompt, mistletoe! (credit: @songi-writes) Also, can we have some more appreciation for Johnny’s lips pls. They are the definition of beautiful! And also my man Johnny in general like come on guys he’s out here serving looks, personality and comedy on a diamond encrusted plate my dudes, give him some attention

Set in a university.

~~~

The party was loud. A butchered club-remixed christmas song hammered the speakers at the hands of a completely sozzled DJ, as the throng of people shimmering like hyper-flammable lycra ebbed and flowed with the beat like shoals of plastic fish beneath the cheap strobe lights. House parties were never that good, if you were honest. But this one. This one was spectacular.

You wished you could say the reason for you believing so was actually good, or anywhere close to rational. But alas, it was not, since your reason was literally a boy.

Not just any old boy, though, in your defence. No no, it was the one of those god-crafted creatures whose blessed features had been cropping up in your line of sight ever since the beginning of the year. At the cafe, at the mall... Even in your favourite hidden-gem vintage charity shop.

One of those boys.

It was if Fate wanted you to do something.

But you never would. Never.

Because you knew who this boy was.

Johnny Seo.

God of charisma, king of basketball, comedy gold. He was on the front of the university monthly magazine for nearly every edition, he had his own radio show, he got extra-special discounts at several bars because he was just so...

He was in the choir for god’s sake, and he was the one person no one made fun of for it.

There was no way you would risk ousting yourself out for ridicule like that. You may not be the smartest in the world, but you knew that asking him out for him to inevitably turn you down would make you the laughing stock for the rest of the year. And that was the best case scenario.

It wasn’t like you thought poorly of yourself, not at all. You were intelligent, and talented, and certainly attractive enough. It’s just you knew you lacked something. The thing that separated him from everyone else. The thing that made him destined for the stars whilst everyone else settled for the moon. The thing that no doubt made you feel head over heels for him when you’d barely even spoken to him.

It wasn’t your way to do things at all, but here you were. Caught in a daze, admiring him as he spoke to someone else.

You were so out of it, you hadn’t even noticed that that someone was actually your best friend. She didn’t see what you saw in the guy, and merely laughed at you when she caught you like this, rolling her eyes every time you stuttered an flimsy explanation at her.

This time you were purely snagged on his lips alone.

Soft, gentle, the gateway to all the secrets that he knew, and all the words he could inspire the world with. Hand-drawn by an artist and delicately positioned on his features, their ulterior motive to make those lips hurt you as you dreamt of running the pads of your fingertips across them, touching them with your own, seeking a sanctuary and your own hell in them.

God, it wasn’t fair.

Whoever got to kiss them even only once must have saved a nation in a past life.

Caught in your daydream, you were hardly subtle.

You never were.

Johnny couldn’t help but glance over at you whenever he had the opportunity, and it didn’t change in this case either. Even if your best friend was watching. Maybe if she noticed she’d urge you to do something after all.

He cracked a smile, completely unrelated to what your best friend was saying, at the thought of how shy you were. You just didn’t want to cause anyone trouble, whether it be him, your best friend, or yourself. You wouldn’t want to even be a trouble to the people you no doubt had invented in your own head, purely as a reason to stop you from saying anything to him. No, you wouldn’t even want them to exert themselves in mocking you. You were wiser than he ever was though because he just let himself flow into things head first and then talked his way out of the consequences, always relatively unscathed.

But the fact remained, you would never do something. So it was on him.

He hadn’t expected to see you around in the same places as much as he did. You’d had a lot more in common than he’d expected when he first saw you. He thought you’d have been into much... less ordinary things.

He didn’t know really, maybe the sunlight had dazzled him then, but that day in the summer when he first saw you, your laugh rivalling the entire world’s music, your eyes rivalling the galaxies above, your lips...

He was entranced by them then, just as he was now, transfixed as they gradually parted to mouth the thoughts charging through your head. He wondered what you were thinking, whether it was about him.

Oh who was he kidding, he knew it was about him. You were all he could think about too, after all.

Suddenly, something knocked his arm.

He snapped his eyes away, lips curving into a charming smile familiar to you—the one that always appeared when he’d been caught doing doing he shouldn’t be doing.

Sucked to be him though, because your best friend was extremely gay and hella proud of it, and so wasn’t having any of his antics.

“Hey,” she shouted over the music, “she’s been pining after you for months on end, Mr I’m-Seo-Hot-And-I-Know-It. Put me out of my goddamn misery and kiss her already?”

He blinked at her, startled but relieved nonetheless.

He had the perfect idea, and this was the cue to enact it.

You barely registered the fact he’d walked over before it was too late. Johnny’s drop-dead gorgeous face and unwavering stare was focused solely on you within a single blink.

Your daze shattered as you were thrust into reality.

He then said something.

You panicked.

You hadn’t heard what he said. The music had stopped too at that very moment, parting the sound for you to hear his velvet smooth voice as well as Fate had garnered it so, and your dumb ass hadn’t even been listening.

Too focused on the pools of onyx that made up his eyes.

You cursed to yourself in your head. Pull. Yourself. Together.

All he’d said was hi.

“Hey, I was talking to your friend. She said you were feeling a bit overwhelmed by the party and wanted to leave but since she was being selfish and didn’t want to, you’d been stuck here waiting for her?”

He waited diligently for you to respond. Eventually you nodded dumbly. Realising that was the best he was going to get, with a gentle smile, he continued, “Well, I was heading out, and will happily walk you back, if you’d like?”

That smile wasn’t one you recognised.

You scolded yourself for feeling a spike of excitement at that thought. You haven’t seen him that much, you haven’t seen every smile that those lips of his have curved beautifully into.

You were just too eager to jump on the ‘he sees me differently from everyone else’ train. Which was obviously a poor reaction, in your opinion.

Oh, how little you knew.

You managed a word this time, however. Congrats. “Please.”

He flashed you his characteristic, bright, welcoming, dashing grin, offering out his hand for you to take.

He just wanted to help you out of your chair. A gentleman. The way your breath hitched at that much.

It wasn’t wise to take his hand though. Your hand would be clammy from the heat of the party, and your nerves from just being close to him. And he may suspect something.

Ha.

But it would be too smart to listen to your own mental advice, regardless. You took his hand instinctively, and got to your feet a little bit too fast for your own liking.

And then he asked you another question. This time you didn’t hear because it was too loud. And you had no hope in hell in guessing what it was, because you’d ushered your eyes away from his own. His eyes were too good to look into for long periods of time. Unhealthy for you. They made you blush too hard.

Wait was he doing the long stare deliberately?

He presumed your coat, if you had one and he sure hoped you did because it was cold out and he didn’t want you sick, was by the door.

Leading you through the crowds, flashing that smile at a couple of people to get them to move, with his hand very very lightly brushing your shoulder to make sure you didn’t get lost in the crowds. It was polite, but also protective.

Maybe your past life had been pretty good. But had you saved a nation?

Probably not?

Reaching the porch, and seeing the mounds of coats, he sweat-dropped. Even if yours was in there, it would take forever to find it.

“Hey, is your coat, like, not black?” he enquired, closing the door to block most of the sound from the other rooms.

You hesitated, forcing the cogs in your head to turn. Suddenly you hit a spark and remembered. “I didn’t have a coat with me. I forgot.”

He looked concerned to say the least, and you were confused as to why. Before you could think about it for even a second, he passed you a chic trench coat. It matched his outfit.

Oh no.

“I... no I—”

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” he insisted, catching onto your pause. He held it out, nodding his head and indicating for you to turn around.

You obliged, and let him slip the coat over your arms, and up to your neck. Tying it up at the front by one button, it was huge on you. He’d forgotten how much taller he was than you. Oh well, you looked absolutely adorable.

He could have kissed you right then. But he had to stick to the plan.

“Is it left or right to your apartment?” he asked, opening the front door to the cold outside.

Walking along the ice cold streets, at an awfully slow pace, you almost felt your heart return slightly back to normal. You felt bad for making him take such short steps, it being icy and yourself in nice but not exactly practical shoes for the weather. His legs were so long, you wondered what it was like to be tall.

Actually, his legs were astoundingly proportioned, with those thighs—

“I know a shortcut, actually,” he announced, slightly out of the blue, especially for him.

Truth be told, he’d been trying to think of a way to get you to go with him to the tree. It wasn’t en-route at all, but he couldn’t think of a better excuse.

That being said, he couldn’t deny the impact taking in the sight of you had on his thought process. It was a lot to handle, that was for sure.

“Oh, ok, sure.”

Turning the two of you into the park through the gate a few steps away, you quickly realised that there was no shortcut this way, having walked this way a couple of times before. But there was a real brightness in his eyes, and it wasn’t just the streetlights. He seemed excited.

So you followed beside him, keeping up with his light conversation as best you could. Though you still couldn’t quite render what was going on.

He’d asked you about your favourite bands, your favourite animals, what you liked to do on an evening. He moved onto deeper things, your opinions on the latest news events, whether you believed in ghosts, what you thought of conspiracy theories.

And though you were nervous, it didn’t feel wrong. Or worrying. Or unnatural. Eventually words began to flow from your lips like they normally did. Perhaps you were even more honest than you usually were. Johnny didn’t judge. In fact he just told more embarrassing stories about himself. Like where he’d got some of his scars from, some of the people he’d met, and what being in the choir was truly like.

“Honestly, I don’t know what those jocks are making fun of choir kids for,” he explained, “choir-ing is hard. Not only does everyone gossip over one another, but the teachers berate you too. There’s no loyalty in the choir, it’s a basket of snakes, all armed with not one knife, but two! Only the most wary and sly stay alive.”

“So how do you keep yourself alive then?” you asked, genuinely unable to see this man as ‘sly’.

“Good question, my secret, you see, is—” He glanced up, away from your face, to spot that he’d reached his destination. “—going to have to wait.”

Before you could protest, he utilised those long legs of his and took off quite far ahead, up the mound central to the park, crowned by a giant bare maple tree. You followed him, head and feet working separately as your eyes stared at him, where he waited.

You could still remember the folklore of the maple tree, told to you by your best friend when you met them under it. Fate made it so that if you kissed beneath it, your love would remain eternal. It was a bunch of crap really, because so many couples had kissed beneath its branches and broke up within weeks. You and your best friend had laughed about it numerous times before, hearing their sickly vows from where you sat in the summer a tree away, before making bets on how long they would—

Oh.

Your feet brought you to a standstill right in front of the man you’d admired from afar for so long.

“I’m sorry for dragging you a little further from your dorm,” he said, smiling sweetly and apologetically, “but I had an idea and I couldn’t let it go to waste.”

You noticed his hand, pointing upwards, above both him and you.

Your joints were heavy, out of shock and also the sheer will of wanting this to not be a dream.

There, above your head, was a sprig of mistletoe, tied to the branch and fluttering in the wind.

“I know we haven’t spoken much, but I’ve been so intrigued by you for the past year, and I know you have too,” he began, his words instantly bringing your focus back to him.

You pushed yourself to meet his stare. As much as it made you feel vulnerable, it felt so good to finally take them in at close proximity, to have them to yourself, to have him to yourself alone.

To you surprise, it was Johnny that looked away first, gaze looping to the grass, mottled with snow, as he continued, “And since I didn’t know how to move things forwards exactly, I decided that this would... well,” he looked back up, eyes glimmering with a smile at the corners, even if his lips did not follow, “it would at least be memorable, all cinematic, even if it didn’t...”

You stepped forwards, cold-blemished hands slowly edging up to his face.

Cupping his cheek, you flinched at how icy the skin you found there was, only to replace your hand with much more certainty after. His hand came up to hold yours, to press your palm into his skin.

It felt slightly rough, with some craft he no doubt could teach you. They were warm, strong, welcoming. You wanted to just, hold them. Between your fingers, against your cheek, to your heart.

You couldn’t manage to stare into his eyes any longer, the passion in his stare was too much to handle, and so you reverted to taking in the lines and shadows of his face. You didn’t expect anyone this beautiful to even exist on earth and yet here a person was, with his soft skin and sculpted jaw and those inviting lips...

Shifting your hand out from his, you pulled it away, and instead to where you could feel his breath, cool and clouded upon your skin.

You pressed a single finger against the cushion of his bottom lip, running the pad across the etches, just as you’d dreamt of doing for so long.

His hand came to meet yours once again, but instead held it still at his lips. And there he pressed a kiss into your fingerprint.

“May I kiss you properly?”

You almost choked on your own heart at his words.

“Yes,” you whispered, standing as high as you could reach, your arms snaking around his neck to mirror his own actions, his hands dropping and holding you close by the waist.

Your lips met and it was nothing like you’d imagined. It was so much more than that.

They were so much warmer, so much more sweet and delectable than you could have ever guessed. Ambrosian. You were in heaven by his touches alone, secure and protected from the cold and cruelty of the rest of the world, even if only for a moment. How could you have lived without this the whole of your life?

His hair was smooth to touch, as you wrung some tresses between your fingers, soaking up as much of him as you could.

He didn’t pull away until you did. And you only did so because you had lost all of your air.

You breathed heavily as you shivered in his arms, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Kiss me again?” you pleaded, voice barely anything more than the breeze.

He opened his eyes, fingers reaching up and stroking your hair away from your face. “Gladly.”

How many nations had you saved?

~~~

AN: Edited, and I honestly don’t understand how I expected you guys to understand some parts lol It’s legible now tho!

With some extra tidbits too yeee ....!

Hope you enjoyed!

Masterlist

Edited: 16th December 2019

Re-edited: part way through 3rd February 2020

#johnny #johnny x reader #johnny reader #johnny reader insert #johnny seo #johnny nct #johnny oneshot #johnny christmas #nct johnny christmas #johnny seo oneshot #johnny suh #nct christmas #nct mistletoe #johnny x reader oneshot #idk what to call this

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kiruuuuu · 5 years

Text

Thatcher/Lesion oneshot in which Lesion has a tattoo and Thatcher hates it. (Rating T, fierce denial and fluff I suppose, ~2.5k words) - dedicated to @glazkov-smile who put this ship into my brain where it now festers and grows shakes fist

The first time Thatcher catches a glimpse of it, all he feels – curiously enough – is betrayal.

No part of it makes sense, it’s neither his body nor his decision and yet it’s as if he’s been deceived in some way, left in the dark about a topic concerning him personally. It’s irrelevant how nonsensical his emotions are because they’re there regardless and no amount of logical arguing with himself is able to make them vanish. He can’t rationalise it even if he tries, and he tries desperately. He’s merely being a judgemental old fart, probably, something he’s been called before in differing contexts. But he doesn’t know how to deal with it.

It was no longer than a second: Bandit pulled on the back of Lesion’s collar to drop an ice cube into his shirt, and Thatcher just happened to look over at the commotion and saw colour lick at the back of Lesion’s neck, usually hidden by whatever garish shirt the man inexplicably chose to wear that day but now revealed in a flash of ink. And it’s enough to conjure up a profound disappointment in Thatcher.

They’ve known each other for years now, stayed in contact where Smoke exchanged irregular messages which taper off now and then, only to rekindle once in a blue moon. No, Thatcher and Lesion wrote and called almost every week, given their work permitted it, left messages on a variety of media depending on their current location and sent each other postcards even, both of them carefully and happily maintaining an unlikely friendship. They differ in many regards though not the most important ones, and thus remained pointed towards each other like magnets. Friendships like this one are rare, Thatcher has come to understand this all too keenly.

And he can’t stand tattoos.

To him, they’re much worse than gaudy jewellery, flamboyant clothes and unnaturally dyed hair together – not only are they alarmingly permanent but also usually horribly tacky. Who cares if someone managed to father a child? Congratulations, they fulfilled their purpose the way nature intended, no need to plaster their kid’s heartbeat or birth date or entire bloody face all over their arms and legs and basically rub it under everyone’s nose. He doesn’t care to know the names of people’s partners nor is he interested in cringy quotes or supposedly deep and symbolic bullshit which allegedly holds so much meaning for its bearer. They’re ugly. They mar skin instead of decorating it.

He much prefers freckles, scars, stretch marks, hair, natural discolouration, any sort of blemish which tells him this person is alive and breathing and not airbrushed or genetically engineered to look this way. He doesn’t care tattoos have been around forever, to him they’re a disgrace and can erase all his interest in someone. Can, and have.

Thinking back, he’s fairly sure he ranted about this to Lesion’s face before, was met with the usual calm patience tinged with amusement whenever he complains about something at length, earned no more than a half-reply implying his position was at best a bit too extreme and at worst complete and utter dogshite in Lesion’s opinion. He’s never dismissive about it, merely pokes fun but ultimately chooses to respect Thatcher’s views which is probably one of the reasons why they’re still friends.

So when he catches sight of precise strokes lining Lesion’s back, Thatcher is appalled. Indignant. Offended, even.

He needs to see it.

Just like he demands details about all the unnecessary so-called ‘apps’ most people around him use so he can judge them accordingly, curiosity grips him in its iron hold and compels him to view the entire disaster Lesion immortalised on his body for reasons unknown. Maybe it’s linked to a previous partner, a family member, a time in Lesion’s life about which Thatcher knows nothing yet, something deeply personal – in which case he’ll still disapprove of the ink but possibly gain more insight into his friend’s past. In that case, it’d be a worthwhile endeavour despite the knowledge of what exactly is tainting Lesion’s skin. He won’t be able to unsee it afterwards.

“Do you want to fight?”, he interrupts Lesion’s current conversation and gets a good-natured laugh from his friend and a concerned look from Ying in return.

“I thought we agreed not to argue politics in the workplace anymore”, Lesion replies cheerfully and moves his toothpick from one corner of his mouth to the other, Thatcher’s gaze following its journey momentarily.

“You said you were a little rusty in whatever fancy martial arts style you always torture the recruits with, so I thought you could use a refresher.”

“It’s much too warm to fight”, Ying points out and Thatcher barely bites back a response along the lines of that’s the point.

Lesion ignores her statement and leans back in his lawn chair, one of Rainbow’s most sought after commodity in summer – ants are prevalent and therefore sitting in the grass ill-advised. “Even if I did, I’d go to Yumiko and not you – no offence.”

“I bet you’ve been doing it for longer than she has.”

“Possibly, but she’s still lengths better.” The younger man raises an amused eyebrow. “Mike, are you bored?”

Oh. It’s the perfect excuse, his entire team is known for their eccentric solutions to boredom as well as striking fear into everyone’s heart as soon as it looks like they’ve got nothing to do. “Yes”, he lies smoothly, “so you can either join me willingly or spend the rest of the day anticipating a non-consensual fight. I’ll know when you least expect it, Tze Long.”

“Sounds like you don’t have a choice at all”, Ying sighs, shaking her head. “Men.”

“Don’t pretend you wouldn’t jump on the opportunity to roll through the mud with Elena, my dear”, Lesion comments casually after which neither of the two stick around for long enough to watch her turn crimson and splutter at the accusation. “So, tell me. Was this a misguided rescue mission or do you need my help with anything embarrassing?”

Thatcher blinks at the unexpected question until he realises his excuse sounds so terribly flimsy Lesion didn’t buy it for a second, correctly assuming an ulterior motive. Even if he’s nowhere near guessing it. “Oh, neither. I really just – it was a genuine suggestion and I…” He trails off when crinkles appear around dark eyes.

“Aren’t we a little too old to kill time by beating each other up? Let’s go drink some green tea to cool down instead, shall we?”

His objection dies on his tongue as his friend turns away, wearing a small smile. “I don’t even like green tea”, Thatcher protests quietly yet trails after Lesion nonetheless.

“Let’s go swimming.”

Lesion pauses visibly, marks his spot on the page he’s currently on and then glances up sceptically. “Now?”

Yes, Thatcher almost blurts out but catches himself just in time, checks his watch and pretends like he didn’t completely lose track of the hours ticking by purely because of Lesion’s presence. It’s a common occurrence, oddly enough. “Of course not”, he scoffs, “but what about tomorrow?”

“Where is this coming from? We’ve never gone for a swim together, you prefer going alone.” Fortunately, there’s no suspicion in his voice, only curiosity.

“I just thought you might want to join me. When’s the last time you went swimming?”

“Yesterday. Meghan invited me.”

Ah. Thatcher squints before he can help himself – they probably spent the time showing off their respective tattoos, and for some reason this thought makes it worse than as if Lesion had gone with anyone else. Even Blackbeard. “Well. If you don’t want to, that’s fine”, he concludes curtly and directs his attention back to the book in his own lap, fighting down another wave of dismay. So others are allowed to see it, apparently, where he’d not even been aware of it at all.

“What? Of course we can go, I was just surprised -”

“Nah. Nevermind.”

“Mike.” There’s gentle exasperation in Lesion’s voice now and he leans forward in the armchair which has become basically his over the course of several months – it bears his imprint and smells of him. Not that Thatcher would know. “I didn’t say no.”

“I’m busy tomorrow anyway”, he lies through his teeth and wonders whether he sounds cranky.

Lesion silently examines him for a few seconds longer, expression unreadable, and finally shrugs. “Alright. If you do want to go, just let me know.”

The doors of his wardrobe have mirrors. It’s the perfect plan. Thatcher buys the Dutch beer Lesion likes so much, and while Maestro is in the middle of listing all the exotic animals he’s eaten in his life with Smoke listening intently (and probably adding quite a few to his bucket list), while Mute snitches on Bandit’s newest plan to Sledge, while Sledge pointedly ignores Maestro’s hand slowly creeping up his thigh – while all of them are gathered in Thatcher’s living room, he makes sure to spill some of it down Lesion’s back.

“Whoops”, he says after his friend has jumped up with an undignified noise of surprise and hopes dearly that either none of the others watched him very deliberately tip his bottle or that they at least know to keep their mouths shut. “Come on, let’s get you something else to wear.”

“Why did we even stay in if I end up smelling like pub anyway”, Lesion complains weakly on the way to the bedroom, lamenting the wasted drink and accepting the fresh t-shirt Thatcher presses into his hands. “Thanks. You can go ahead.”

Thatcher pauses, hovering uncertainly. This – isn’t how it’s supposed to go. The last time, Lesion undressed in front of him without any qualms and he hoped it would be the same now, positioned his friend between himself and the mirrors so he’d get a good look no matter what. “I, uh -”

“Do you want to watch me change?”, Lesion asks, audibly entertained.

“No, I just – you probably need a towel, right? To get rid of the beer.”

“Sure”, the younger man agrees easily and Thatcher nods more to himself than for his benefit, leaves the room and dashes as soon as he’s out of eyesight. He’s never fetched a wet towel faster in his life, hoping to at least see part of it if Lesion’s in the middle of undressing, yet when he returns, Lesion is still wearing his soaked shirt. As well as a meaningful smirk. “Thank you, Mike. I’ve got it from here.”

No, he’s not going to let this opportunity pass. “Are you sure you don’t need help with your back?”

“Do you want to see it that badly?”

Oh.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Your personal vendetta against my shirts. It took me a few days to realise why so many of them ended up ruined, stained, ripped or threatened. You’ve not seen it before, have you?”

He hasn’t been that obvious. Has he? Thatcher considers denying everything but his curiosity prevails, triumphs over the prospect of never living this down. Defeated, he shakes his head, prepares for the inevitable ribbing yet is merely awarded with Lesion’s fingers reaching up to unbutton his soiled shirt, a gesture so hypnotising all speech evades him.

“I didn’t know you were that interested”, Lesion comments nonchalantly as if the temperature in the room hadn’t just jumped up a few degrees – or maybe Thatcher is experiencing a heatwave, yet whatever it is, his face is burning.

“I’m not”, he replies petulantly and is in the middle of justifying all his actions to himself in his head when the piece of fabric drops, carelessly gets discarded, and then Lesion turns.

It’s -

Well, it’s large, first of all, covering the entirety of his back and seemingly continuing even below the waistband of his trousers, just shy of curling all the way around his ribs. The ink is vibrant and mesmerising, no part of Lesion’s natural skin colour visible between all the vivid colours crassly at odds with everything Thatcher considers desirable. To him, it looks more like a yakuza tattoo than anything else, the motif of a roaring tiger familiar yet kept in a more tasteful style, no cartoonish bulging eyes or exaggerated features. Part of it is shiny with moisture, making it look even more recent and amplifying the otherworldly feel of it.

And it’s still a tattoo, even if the fact that it’s Lesion’s back changes something about it; even if the outline of his shoulder blades, the dip of his lower back, the gently curved spine do something to Thatcher, its nature remains intact. He doesn’t know why anyone would choose to deface their natural beauty like this, would spend a horrendous amount of money on something this hideous, would endure a million needle pricks only to look like this.

He also has no idea why he can’t stop staring.

A detail catches his attention and, without thinking, he lifts his hand and brushes over the tiger’s face with a thumb, the skin warm and slightly sticky. “He’s got a scar below his eye”, Thatcher murmurs and fights hard to keep this odd, uncalled-for reverent tone out of his voice.

“Do you want to watch him dance?”, Lesion asks him quietly and his brain is too occupied to process his words, discern the meaning behind them because – surely, he’s not -

The air is thick around them and it’s not only a byproduct of the season; it’s not stuffy yet heavy nonetheless, struggles against Thatcher’s deep inhale. His other fingers join his thumb in resting on intricate swirls, scared to move in case they smudge the ornate ink. “What do you mean?”, he hears himself mumble, possibly hoping for a repetition only, not even a clarification.

“Oh. Nevermind.” Lesion’s reply is soft and it sounds like he’s grinning. “I’m glad you seem to like it though.”

“I don’t”, Thatcher protests immediately and withdraws his hand, suddenly light-headed with the rush of oxygen, air flooding his lungs, returned to normal from one second to the next.

His friend throws him a look over his shoulder and he really looks like the Cheshire cat for some reason, as if he’s having the time of his life and Thatcher feels like he missed something somewhere along the way. “Alright”, Lesion agrees readily.

They get him cleaned up and into Thatcher’s shirt without any more interruptions, but when he turns to leave, the Brit holds him back yet falters at the expectant, amused and open smile with which the gesture is met.

“How about”, he begins, suddenly sheepish, “we go swimming this weekend?”

And to his relief, Lesion nods immediately, grinning and extremely pleased with the suggestion. “Of course. I’d love to.”

#rainbow six siege #thatcher #lesion #thatcher/lesion #fanfic #oneshot #had I known I'd get myself stuck I never would've encouraged you #all it took was those 1k words you wrote #I already have more ideas #crying

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aozorasoann · 6 years

Text

"The thing about being protective”

@lheonce Here’s your gift for the Baguette Secret Santa! I hope you like it! J’ai utilisé mon interprétation des personnages pour plusieurs choses, surtout Katelyn, donc j’espère que ça te conviendra ^^’

Synopsis : “The twins are spending time together and Katelyn can’t help but think about their relationship”

No one exactly knew how it had happened except for the twins themselves, but somehow, Andrew had started teaching Aaron how to drive. They didn't know who had the idea, how Andrew decided it was acceptable to let Aaron drive his Maserati or even that Aaron wanted to learn, but the fact was that now, every sunday and wednesday, the twins took a few hours to themselves during which Andrew drove Aaron somewhere and taught him how to drive. No one knew how the lessons were going or even if Andrew could be a decent teacher despite his, let's say, unusual ways of communicating, but the twins' relationship didn't seem to have changed much in any way despite the lessons, so one did have to assume that they could be going worse.

Katelyn would even, if someone had asked her, admit that it seemed that the lessons were going very well, for Aaron seemed in a pretty good mood everytime he came back from them, not that she ever pointed it out. She liked her boyfriend happy and if that meant not talking about the way he and his brother tentatively tried to mend their fractured relationship, well, she wasn't exactly happy about it but she was a patient and tactful person and she could wait for the right moment.

She would have said that it was sweet of Andrew to teach him if she had never met Andrew Minyard, but she also knew that most of Andrew's bark and bite had to do with how overprotective he was of his people. Still definitely not sweet though. But once again, if connecting with his jerk of a brother was the reason the love of her life was so... she wouldn't say happy, but content, satisfied in a way, well then who was she to complain?

It was Sunday, so she was actually waiting for him to finish one of these lessons when the thing happened for the first time. Aaron was joining her in the dorms to study - unfortunately nothing more, her roommates had refused to leave the room empty - and she had been waiting in the hallway, hoping that maybe they could find someplace where they would, at least, not be disturbed by very loud and nosy roommates who never seemed able to leave her and her relationship alone.

He had been coming from the stairs, a soft smile on his lips the moment he saw her, when Eliza, one of the girls next door, opened her door laughing, a boy Katelyn didn't know behing her. Whatever they had intended to do, they froze the moment they saw Aaron. Eliza had seen him a few times probably, since she lived next to Katelyn, but the guy clearly never had and, almost immeditaly, blurted out "Man, isn't that the guy who murdered someone?"

To his credit, Aaron barely reacted. He didn't roll his eyes or flip the guy off like he might have wanted to, he didn't freeze like he would have almost a year ago, he kept walking with a frown but didn't dignify it with an answer.

Katelyn, however? She wanted to kill the guy.

Who did he think he was? He didn't know Aaron, he didn't know Andrew, he didn't know whatever had happened that awful day, he had no right to judge or be afraid like his voice implied. He had no right to hurt her boyfriend like that.

"Excuse you?" she said icily.

The guy seemed to suddenly realize she was there and maybe he saw inside her head for one second because he took a step back. He was frowning.

"Sorry," he said "I just didn't know he'd be there. I mean, I didn't follow the thing, but..."

"Well then you don't have any opinion worth sharing," she interrupted him while taking Aaron's arm. "And we're leaving."

She might have dragged her boyfriend behind her for a few steps before the anger abated enough for her to think straight again. Aaron was silent, but when she turned toward him, he was smirking.

"That was cute."

"Shut up," she grumbled.

He slowly took her hand away from his arm and kept it in his own, delicately. Maybe too delicately for what she had felt she would have used them for if they had stayed there even one more second.

"Not that I don't enjoy seeing you defending me, pumpkin juice, but you don't have to listen to them. I've dealed with much worse than that when it was still fresh news."

He had meant to reassure her, but she just felt worse, and that bottomless anger, that thing that she had felt then threatened to come back again. She wanted to destroy them, all those who had dared to pass judgement on him without having walked in his shoes. She breathed deeply and felt the poison recede a little. Aaron had probably seen her face because he was now holding her hand in both of his, concern present in his eyes. She forced a pout.

"Pumpkin juice? Seriously? Didn't we already have a discussion about that?"

"You talked, I decided I liked it and elected to ignore you."

She huffed in mock outrage and let him laugh at her before she admitted she had no idea where they should be going.

While they walked, looking for a place to stop, she couldn't help but wonder about the thing, the anger. She had felt it swallow her whole, maybe if she hadn't left she would have fought. Maybe she would have hurt the guy and not regretted it. She had to wonder, even for just one second, if it was the way Andrew felt when he saw her.

She never exactly forgot about it, but it came back to her when she was searching for him and knocked on his dorm room. She wasn't surprised to have Matt Boyd open the door and even less surprised at the smile he gave her. What she had done to deserve such a nice welcome every time he saw her, she didn't know, but it probably had nothing to do with how she had kicked his ass in the last team party's drinking contest.

"Hello Katelyn, you were looking for Aaron?" She nodded and Matt shook his head. "He is not here right now, went out something like one hour ago. 'said Andrew needed him for something. But he should be back soon."

Behind him, Nicky appeared and added: "You want to wait for him here? I made coffee. We both forgot about it so it's kind of disgusting, to be honest, but hey, coffee is coffee."

She laughed and politely refused. While they could be nice people, they were also very interested in her relationship. A lot more than even her nosiest roommates, who could harass her every day while Aaron never said a word about his relationships to anyone. And while she wouldn't mind entertaining them with a few stories (like the time they had fought for something dumb and she had changed his contact name to "fucking dumbass", she would have left out the sweet things he had done to beg for forgiveness, though, these belonged to her and only her), she also knew that despite Matt's claims, if he had gone to help Andrew with something, it might actually take him more than an hour or two before coming back. She would rather start her homework than wait for hours with her boyfriend's cousin and roommate.

There were actually a few instances in which she had realized how much her boyfriend loved his brother. They were small things, things he could deny if he wanted to pretend he hated him, but they happened nonetheless. The twins loved each other, no matter how self-destructive they acted about it. It was a fact Katelyn might have accepted before they did themselves. There were some times, especially around the trial, when she remembered Aaron saying – and probably sometimes pretending - that Andrew needed him for something and leaving her with a few apologies. He might have never noticed the times his excuses were flimsy at best and Katelyn never told him. She never asked, half because she didn't want to embarrass him and half because she didn't want to get between the brothers. Andrew had been clear enough about what would happen to her if she did.

But when she thought about it, most of the time, she wondered if the two brothers didn't simply need to know that the other was safe. Safe and close. She hoped they could learn to let go of the other, or their future life wouldn't be easy. Not that it would be even without that, she feared these boys could never have an easy life.

A few days after failing to find her boyfriend in his room, she was the lucky secret witness of a rare scene. When she realized how hard it was to catch Neil Josten and Andrew during their alone time, she had to wonder if it was extreme good luck or extreme bad luck that had made her go to the stadium that day.

Truth being said, she was there to get something for Aaron. He had forgotten his gloves. The cold winter wind had reminded him soon enough, but since Katelyn didn't have class while he did at the moment, he had asked her if she could and "Please Pumpkin juice? I will rub your shoulders!" and "You don't need to make impossible promises if you want me to do things, dummy, we both know you can barely reach my shoulders." and that was as good as a yes.

She hadn't expected to see Palmetto's Oddest Couple there but the terror that had seized her at the moment had obliterated every other feeling. She had pretty awful memories of the last time these two alone had been with her. Her first reaction had been to hide in the next room, hoping that they did not see her. A few secondes later, Andrew's bored voice had said a few words and she had tensed before realizing they were addressed to Neil. "You're an idiot."

Neil groaned. "It's just a bruise."

"A bruise or bruised ribs. Remind me why you wouldn't let Abby look at you."

"You know why."

"That's still incredibly stupid of you, Mr. I'll be Court one day. I know Kevin already had a talk with you about hiding your injuries."

"It's nothing, I swear!"

"This isn't nothing."

Neil snorted at that and there was a little bit of annoyance in Andrew's voice when he started talking again.

"You know what I meant. Keep your smart comments to yourself."

"You know you like it. But fine, I'll let Abby take a look. Now, I'll give you your hand back but only if you let me stand up."

"Try to walk without almost dying, for a change."

They kept bickering until they had left, a banter with sweet undertones that reminded her that yes, these two had a relationship, as weird and private as it was and - oh my god were they holding hands? Well of course they were, they were a couple weren't they?

She felt a little ashamed to realize how much she had expected the unusual couple to do nothing classically refered to as couple-y, but maybe it was just that they never did this kind of thing in front of others. Andrew was a private person, Aaron was too, but with the way Neil talked and sassed everyone who looked at him the wrong way, she had expected something else from him, grand gestures, public displays of affection... Yet she couldn't imagine Andrew agreeing with that so maybe it was the reason.

She decided to stop thinking about it. Her boyfriend's brother's love life wasn't anything she should find interest in, so why was she suddenly so obsessed? Maybe it was the same kind of fascination one had with the way dangerous animals lived? As long as you weren't running for your life, they just looked like fierce creatures with interesting habits.

Yet, the exchange she had witnessed sticked with her. Andrew had a point in that every injury Neil got could should be professionally examined, but the fact that he took the time to make sure Neil was or wasn't alright before convincing him to go and see the team nurse spoke of a care she should have already associated with him. After all, it wasn't the first time she had seen - heard - whatever - him be protective. It might just have been the first time there wasn't any violence involved with the protection.

But more than that, she thought about the way Neil had acted. Teasing, yes, a little annoyed as if his lover? Boyfriend? was acting like an overconcerned mother hen, but soon enough, he had been calm and placating. Which, well, fair enough, placating Andrew was always a priority she would say, but it was quite obvious that Neil had agreed to go and see the team nurse so quickly for Andrew's sake and not because he agreed with him.

It reminded her of the way she acted around Aaron when he came back bruised from training. She knew it was nothing, she knew they had a nurse, she even knew Aaron could take care of himself - obviously, he was acing the same courses she was taking - but she couldn't help but worry. She wanted to help. It was a feeling she had come to associate with her boyfriend everytime she saw him. She wanted to protect him in a way, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. She, Katelyn, fierce cheeleader yes but one of the most ordinary person in that damn school, wanted to protect her backliner of a boyfriend, who had already gone through so much shit that his skin had basically turned to steel.

Sometimes, she had seen Neil's eyes turn to ice when one dared throw a derogative word towards Andrew, even though the man himself didn't seem to give a flying fuck about the way others saw him. Better to be feared than loved might have been the Minyard way, but it clearly wasn't something their significant other agreed with. And the ones who loved them had one thing in common: they desperately wanted to protect these people who could probably look after themselves.

Probably. The thing resurfaced a few weeks later. She had said goodbye to Aaron, who had accompanied her to her class because it was on the way to these famous driving lessons that seemed to make him so content, and had left. Then, one of these jerks that are unfortunately everywhere – a guy named Claus who she had barely ever talked to but who loved to give her his opinion even when she clearly wasn't interested - said so loudly that it was obvious he wanted her to hear: "I still don't get how that guy didn't end up in prison."

Slowly, she had turned towards him and she had felt the venom, the poison take control of her veins. That violent need to protect posessed her. "He was protecting his brother, you asshole, how dare you say something like that."

"Yeah, right. Pretty sure the freak was enjoying it anyway."

Well, looked like she was going to tear him a new asshole.

The biggest miracle that happened that day might have been the fact that the guy didn't even get a black eye. She got in his face, ready to throw him to the ground - some would have said she probably couldn't do it, she didn't have the strength, but she was actually pretty sure she could have taken him. (Being a cheerleader takes a lot more strength than people think.) But she stopped at putting a finger in his face.

"Oh no, mister, you don't get to say that. You need to learn how to shut your trap before someone shuts it for you. I'm enclined to destroy your jaw right now and you would deserve it."

"Come on, you can't..."

"I can and I will! You don't get to insult my boyfriend like that. Are you saying that if you saw someone hurting a person you love you wouldn't help them? If so you are despicable, much more despicable than my Aaron could ever be. And then you try to pretend that someone could actually enjoy... you are digusting, be glad I'm the one who heard you, I'll stop at a warning for this time. Next time I'll punch you I swear, and I know two people who would have done worse if they had heard you. Believe-me, if they had decided to kill you, I would have watched."

"Why are you defending him? You hate him! Is it because he's your boytoy's brother, 'cause come on Kate, you know the guy is crazy!"

"Disliking and being disliked by someone does not stop you from being a fucking decent person, you piece of shit!" She spat. "But I wouldn't be surprised if the concept seemed totally alien to you."

She had to stop there, because the teacher had just arrived and was watching the scene with the tired eyes of someone who had had far too many similar moments in their life.

"Am I interrupting something?" he said in a dry voice implying that he didn't care as long as it didn't disturb their class.

"No, not really. We were done." Katelyn answered, still glaring at the douchebag.

He clearly thought it wasn't worth missing class for and didn't add anything, so she ended up sitting down, silently forcing herself to calm down her anger, seething, thinking it was a good thing Aaron had not witnessed that. In fact, she was so focused on biting her tongue that she didn't check the hallway or see blonde hair walking away.

Aaron could not have had, in fact, witnessed the scene, as he was now standing in front of the Maserati, anxiously waiting for his brother who had never made a habit of being late for these lessons.

Finally, he saw Andrew coming closer, expressionless as always. Yet, in that weird way that only those who really knew him could notice, he looked a little thoughtful.

Nonchalantly, he threw his keys at his brother, who caught them, fumbling a little bit but never dropping them.

"We'll make it short today." said Andrew.

"Got somewhere to be?"

"I don't. You might. Someone will need to check on you soon."

"What?"

He didn't get any answer and wasn't that surprised, getting an answer with words out of Andrew had been deemed impossible by pretty much anyone that wasn't Neil Josten. Aaron quickly forgot about it, only remembering a few hours later, when Andrew made him stop early and dropped him of in front of the building where Katelyn had her classes.

When she came out, she had seemed a little distressed and just mentioned some people were being assholes about him. He didn't ask to know more, he had waited for a while and during that time, far too many people had already thrown jokes about what had happened earlier at him, but he had to wonder about the odds of Andrew hearing Katelyn fiercely defending both of them.

"Someone will need to check on you soon." Andrew had said. He had a little smile, wondering at the fact that Andrew now thought of Katelyn as someone. Someone important enough for Aaron that he would sacrifice their precious bonding time to let her check on him.

(Here's a secret no one has to know: no one convinced Andrew to start teaching Aaron how to drive. Both of them may have needed that time together and neither of them would have freely admitted it, but when Andrew had thrown the keys at his brother while saying "Time for you to stop being useless around a car", they had both known what this was really about.)

What had just happened wasn't exactly trust or even a tentative friendship. But it was some kind of acceptance. It was Andrew accepting that Katelyn was important for his brother and that she actually found him - both of them - worth defending. It was accepting that, maybe, he could let her protect him sometimes, instead of doing it all on his own.

And right now, for Aaron, it was more than enough.

#aftg #the foxhole court #Aaron Minyard #Katelyn #kaaron #Andrew Minyard #andreil #(in the background but still there)

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showdepremiosclub · 4 years

Text

Just Say No To Sex

( Extended satire, presented In 10 installations of 4 pages each. This is the second installation; previous ones are included on this site, in instance you miss one.).

" They all seem remarkably real in their purposes," Dr. Coburn responded. "As youths are vulnerable to do, they really intend to do their component to conserve the world-- and now they see a practical method to continue.".

" We shall see. Yet, also if you have the ability to instill your linguistic nonsense, how much time do you expect they'll abstain prior to their fulminating libidos bewilder your flimsy barricades?".

" Until they are easily as well as securely married. I also presume that one of the most thorough students will remain to keep an extensive degree of procreative small amounts in wedlock.".

" Please, they would certainly all be much safer merely making use of prophylactics.".

" Prophylactics? Oh, don't also point out the word. How abnormal, just how risky, just how--".

"-- Concerning waiting on time to expose the solution?" she disrupted, and then, sighing, claimed, "Precious me, the greatest responsibility a bright person can have today is the lack of a strong scientific history. Your well-intentioned mind just does not have actually the expertise called for to innovate credibly in the field you have actually chosen. It is plagued with many webs you simply can't separate yourself from them.".

" Webs to you, Prissy. Caring preservation to me!".

" Yes, out with the brand-new, in with the old! Let us promote old suggestions, run out as developments. Luddites of the world, unify!".

" I confess happily! Antiquated suggestions are my favored kind. They have withstood the test of time as well as, as a result, their merit is self-evident." After that he leaned ahead as well as issued, what was to her, an especially disheartening reproach. "Prepare yourself, Priscilla. The around the world adoption of my technique will in fact make the need for your misguided educational programs and medical research superfluous.".

" Physician Coburn, you are-- in the field in which you are dabbling-- a most oblivious, insensitive, and dangerous man.".

" Oblivious! Aloof! And hazardous? Ah, currently I understand well the taunting trendsetters have actually needed to manage from time long past. I can, at this time, also offer consolation with the early plight of my arch-nemesis, Freud. What nerve he had to persist against the Victorian tide. I will obtain a page from him, however, not in regards to his incorrect unearthing of the sex drive, however in remarkable doggedness.".

" Please, don't dumbfound yourself with Freud. Your method is not only impractical; it's one of the most cockamamie-- ".

"-- Dr. Ernst, if you please. One of my all-time the very least preferred words is 'cockamamie.' What a regrettable morass of mortifying associations.".

" Excuse me, Richard. Often your prudery is revelatory. I shall just call it runaway lack of knowledge." "I think I have currently endured enough of the slings of specialist jealousy. Do you think I do not know the clinical school is close to itself due to the fact that this historic advancement in sexual behavior-modification has come from the sociology division?".

" Not, Medical professional. The reality, like it or otherwise, is that at the clinical school we need to be entirely practical every minute. Lives rely on the practical orderliness of our treatments. Most importantly, we know we have to deal with humanity as we locate it-- delicate and restless humanity. We likewise recognize that at this specific time in background, because of the huge selection of undesirable pregnancies, expanding overpopulation, as well as prevalent Sexually transmitted diseases, Nature has us, like it or not, by the spheres!".

" Pity on you, Priscilla! What language-- and also for a lady of your distinction.".

" Oh, fiddlesticks! Would certainly you be better if I stated it has us by the ovaries?".

" Do not minimize the alarming circumstance we find ourselves in. You have failed to remember one very crucial element of my approach. It is a new reality, not a technique of birth control that has shown poor to our overheated needs or the gleam in a frenzied scientist's eye. No, no, mine is a pragmatic method that is available for immediate implementation.".

" Oh, Dickie-- ".

"-- Priscilla, please. You understand exactly how I feel regarding that alternating appellation.".

" Yes, dear," she replied with a trace of sympathy. "Sorry.".

" Concerning what?".

" Calling you 'dear.'".

" Oh. I really did not discover.".

" Of course," she claimed, surrendering herself to his hurtful indifference as well as progressing with her debate. "However someplace underneath your fearless surface area, certainly you suspect the eternal inclinations of males and female. Just how can you potentially believe that your so-called method can moderate the tidal bore of sexual desire that sweeps through the globe at every minute? Exactly how can it restrain the young, whose whole physical being throbs with sex-related eagerness? Or the poor, who have priceless couple of other enjoyments? Or the affluent, who perpetually court indulgence?".

" My dear Dr. Ernst, what you clearly fail to recognize is that I do not simply ask people simply to say no to sex. I give, in a collection of one hundred engaging and self-evidently real axioms the resources the human will needs to be victorious-- axioms that will eventually no doubt be viewed as the Euclidean geometry of sex-related resistance.".

" Sorry, I continue to be not impressed.".

" Why? Due to the fact that you have actually been dethroned. While you and also your realistic associates have trusted to sexual propriety in the warmth of wish and also the far perspective of medical study, I have had the insight to see the gold at my feet.".

" Fool's gold, I'm afraid!".

" On the contrary, a strong gold chain every link of which contains irrefutable logic-- a detailed technique in which every declaration follows the other as relentlessly as one moment follows its antecedent! Take, as an example, Coburn's First Axiom of Abstaining. I risk you to discover an imperfection in it," he tested, and also took guide from the coffee table. He opened it and held it towards her, as he recited, 'Sex leads to pregnancy. Maternity leads to overpopulation. For that reason, sex needs to be prevented.' Argue with that, if you risk!".

" Richard, the debate is not with your self-evident rubbish yet with your expect compliance. How in the world do you expect such a lightweight train of facilities as well as verdicts to urge the world's billions to abide by sexual abstinence?".

" Buffoon me if you must, Priscilla! Nonetheless, my hopes are being validated as increasingly more diligent students sign up for my genuinely enlightened method.".

" To discover what? To state no to sex, regardless of every natural proclivity and also lure, state no despite drunkenness or medications? Sorry, Richard. I much prefer prophylactics to Coburn.".

" Oh, Dr. Ernst, the effrontery also to state my name in apposition to that sine qua non of imperfect treatment.".

Then, the doorbell called. Physician Coburn checked out his watch. "Ah, ha," he introduced, "that should be my new star candidate, Dan Fox.".

" Fox? He wants to subscribe?" "Correct. He phoned call to apply right prior to you arrived. Normally, I invited him ahead over right away, lest the legendary stud have second thoughts.".

" I can not believe his interest is at all genuine.".

" After that it's a great fortuity that he has arrived while you're still here.".

" If by some opportunity you are able to apply also moderate restraints on him, how many young girls' hopes you'll ruin. It's outrageous to think you can regulate him, provided the variety of ladies who had actually tear their own garments off to jump into the sack with him.".

Simply then Melanie entered the space, as well as claimed, "Really did not I listen to the buzzer ring?".

" Yes, dear. I think it's Dan Fox.".

Melanie appeared abnormally upset. "Dan Fox? What's he doing right here?".

" He intends to enroll in my program.".

" Father, begun. He's the last man on the planet--".

"-- Now, now, Mel, do not prejudge him." He observed her doubt. "Please, simply obtain the door.".

" Sure," she consented, with a little bit of teeth grinding.

He stood proudly while Melanie walked there.

She took a deep breath and also pulled it open. "What are you doing below?" she asked the good-looking athlete.

" Hi, Melanie," he replied. "I want to sign up for you dad's course.".

" Certain, you do," she stated, showing she suspected him of nurturing an overlooked intention.

" Allow him in, Mel," Doctor Coburn called.

" All right," she concurred, as well as stood aside.

" Thanks," he informed her.

" Dan, my child, come right in," Coburn called.

" Thanks!" he responded, with as much clear enthusiasm as he might muster up.

Melanie shut the door and observed as her papa put out his hand.

" Welcome, Fox.".

" Thankful to be below," he claimed, eying the hesitant observer beside his new-found mentor. "You know Dr. Ernst?" Coburn asked.

" Yes, I do," Dan said. "Hi, Dr. Ernst.".

" Hi, Mr. Fox," she responded distantly.

" I'm happy you made the big choice to research with me, Dan," Dr. Coburn claimed.

" Thanks," he responded. "I'm persuaded it's the responsible point to do-- I mean, with all the issues sex can cause.".

" Good, Dan!" Dr. Coburn exclaimed. "I see that, besides brawn, you've got minds.".

" Thanks, sir. My ideal is, like the ancient Greeks claimed, 'a sound mind in a sound body.'".

" In an extremely audio body," Dr. Ernst commented. "The women inform me you're rather alluring.".

" Many thanks. But it's not my mistake. I was born by doing this.".

" But you can rise over it, I assure you," Dr. Coburn suggested him.

" That's my goal," Dan said. "I need to save my energy for football.".

" Tell me, Dan," Dr. Ernst made inquiries, "what makes you think Physician Coburn's technique can work for you? Have you review his new book?".

" Not yet," Dan confessed, "however I have actually heard a great deal regarding it. From what I can tell, it interest the mind-- and I like that. Mind over body-- the very same point you need in the 4th quarter when you lag and also you have to do a whole lot greater than you believe you can.".

Dr. Coburn counted on Dr. Ernst, and also informed her, "I have wonderful confidence in this boy." Then he eyed Dan seriously. "My hope is that you'll turn into one of my celebrity students.".

In some way, this remark cut Melanie to the quick, as well as she stated, "Dad, I need to speak to you.".

" Later on, dear. In the meanwhile, please, companion Mr. Fox to my research study as well as get him registered.".

She checked out Dan with condescension. "I can not think this! Begin.".

" Many thanks, Melanie," he claimed, and also followed her.

" What do you assume?" Dr. Coburn asked.

" Me? Oh, I also have fantastic confidence in him," she replied wryly. "Did you notice the way he looked at your daughter?".

" No, I really did not. It all appeared rather common to me.".

" Really?" she asked. "And why do you believe Melanie appeared so anxious? Could she possibly be captivated with him?".

" Mel? Oh, please, she's much also well trained for such an indiscretion.".

" Richard, occasionally you are a blind butt. Fox certainly has something on his mind other than learning exactly how to say no to sex.".

" You think he's just here due to the fact that he's interested in Melanie? Little Melanie, with all the sexy women that go to his beck and call?".

" I have a suggestion.".

" You indicate, a proposition?".

" Whatever. You teach him your method as best you can. Then you arrange for him as well as Melanie to be alone for an evening.".

" Alone?".

" Yes, and also Melanie has to be provided directions that she is to try every wile she can manage to break down his willpower. If he preserves his indifference to her advancements, I will leave you to proselytize as thoroughly as you can. On the other hand, if by some chance he can not withstand her beauties as well as succumbs, you will certainly confess defeat and also cease to promote your technique.".

" But poor Melanie-- to subject her to such a severe experience.".

" Do not inform me you presume she might be in any kind of sort of threat? Richard, if your method is half just as good as you claim it is, she'll be faced with an overwhelming, and also as a result an entirely safe, job.".

" However to ask her to do something so as opposed to her lifelong training--".

" Yes, but consider the feasible benefits if you do well with Dan. Your victory will certainly reverberate throughout the school. I'll withdraw all my arguments as well as suggest that the clinical school withdraw its. After that you'll have a freedom on campus as well as on the welcoming arms of a desperate globe!".

" Do you I have your word on that?".

" Definitely. Currently, how much time do you require to indoctrinate Mr. Fox?".

" That relies on just how much time he wants to give me. But in no occasion will I require greater than one month.".

" Then you have actually obtained a bargain," she stated, and produced her hand.

" Offer, Priscilla!" he verified, as well as offered her hand a hearty shake. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.".

" My enjoyment, Richard.".

" Don't neglect your gift," he told her, and grabbed the autographed duplicate of his book from the coffee table.

She accepted it.

As he strolled her to the door, she claimed, "Best of luck. You'll require it.".

" Thanks, Priscilla," he replied, "but not nearly as much luck as you'll require.".

She offered him a peck on the cheek, and also his face purged somewhat that somewhat humiliated him. "Till then," she claimed, and also went out the door.

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