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august-anon · 4 years

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LERning New Things About Ourselves -- Pineapple’s Fics!

Note From August: With Pineapple taking a break from tumblr until she’s an adult, I will be hosting her fic on my blog for the time being. You can find them under tags like pineapple fics and pineapple writing. Once she is back, they will be deleted from my blog and reposted to her own. Thanks for being understanding to her during this time! Don’t forget to show her your love!

Word Count: 9111 words

Characters: lee!Virgil, ler!Roman

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Virgil’s heart thudded out of his chest as he stared up at the maliciously coy smile leaning over him. He had never been so excited yet so terrified in his life. “So, darling,” cooed his captor. “Shall we begin your destruction?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It all started on that fateful day when Virgil Anthony decided to post an ad for a new roommate. His previous roommates, Patton and Logan each got married and moved away, leaving Virgil with an empty apartment and no friends.

He was surprisingly content with that reality had it not been for a silly little thing called “rent” that incessantly found itself worming its way into Virgil’s life, and grew impressively large throughout the months. So, deciding he wished to eat this month, he begrudgingly settled on posting a chipper little advertisement on their community college’s website requesting a new roommate, provided they could come up with $450 a month. Weeks passed by and he was starting to lose hope until finally, he got a reply. After a quick online interview, he found himself with a new roommate. Before Virgil knew it, it was moving day.

And that was when he met Roman Prince. Roman was… eccentric.. to say the least, but despite their slightly awkward interview, Virgil knew he was the one. And maybe it helped that he made twice what Virgil made in a week, and brought with him a flatscreen TV and a Switch. Just a little.

“Ahh! Hello!” greeted the man as he set down his suitcase on the steps leading to the apartment. “You must be Virgil!” He stuck out the newly freed hand to shake Virgil’s. Virgil accepted.

“Hey, dude. Yeah, and you must be Roman,” he acknowledged with a smile. “Do you need help with your stuff?”

Roman waved his hand. “Nah, a couple of buddies of mine are coming by later to help me. For now, it’s just me and my suitcase,” he answered, pointing to the suitcase he left by the staircase. Virgil nodded.

“Okay, cool. Well, why don’t you come in, and we can chat.” Virgil wrung his hands slightly as he spoke, his nerves lit up from the social anxiety. He was trying his best to be friendly and not scare this guy off. Fortunately, Roman seemed to do most of the talking for the both of them. Only a couple hours in, the two found themselves seated on the sofa, sipping wine, and getting to know each other. Well, it was mostly Virgil getting to know Roman.

“So, how long have you lived in Cheyenne?” Virgil asked him.

“About three years now! We moved right after I graduated highschool, my parents grew up here, and I decided to go to college here too,” he answered, pointing to the east side of the apartment in the direction of the community college.

Virgil smiled. “That’s nice you all can live in the same area. You get along with your family well, I take it?”

Roman bobbed his head. “Oh yeah. I’m an only child, and it’s safe to say they spoiled me,” he chuckled, and Virgil joined him. Roman shrugged, smiling wryly. “I mean, I’m sure you figured that out considering no sibling should ever feel this confident,” he joked.

Virgil snickered. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Coming from a kid with three older brothers, I know.” He poured some more red wine into both of their glasses. “So, where do you work?” he inquired, ignoring the urge to ask where he makes so much money,

“I work at the bar across the street, Rattlesnake Juice Bar. I’m the manager,” Roman said, bringing the glass up to his lips. Virgil’s eyes widened slightly in surprise.

“Wow, that’s impressive! Normally at twenty-one, employers don't offer management positions at bars,” commented Virgil, sipping his own drink. Roman swallowed his drink and shrugged.

“I guess it was because I had some experience, you know? I’ve been in management since I was seventeen.” Virgil nodded his head with a smile.

“Yeah, that’d do it,” he chuckled. Virgil shifted so he sat on his knees. “So, are you going to do management for a major?” he asked.

Roman shook his head. “No, actually, although it’d probably be a better career plan. Instead, I’m majoring in Journalism with a minor in Creative Writing.” Virgil brought the glass up to his lips, preparing to drink again.

“Oh wow, that’s cool. What do you like to write?”

“Tickle fanfiction.”

Virgil coughed violently, and spit the wine he just had in his mouth onto his shirt. Roman’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh, oh my gosh, are you alright?” he asked, hurriedly grabbing paper towels and handing them to the still sputtering man. Virgil snapped back to reality and finally noticed the spill.

“Oh, for heavens’ sake-“ he muttered, graciously accepting the towels and dabbing at his shirt. Roman furrowed his eyebrows as he helped Virgil clean up.

“Are you alright?” he asked again, his voice laced in genuine concern. Virgil looked up at him for a moment and examined his eyes for any signs of malfeasance. Nothing.

“Um, yeah, I-“ he coughed again, his cheeks turning a light pink. “Yeah, I just, you know, went down the wrong pipe,” he stuttered, gesturing vaguely to his throat. Roman nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, that happens to me all the time. Are you sure you’re good?”

Virgil nodded a bit too earnestly as he got up to go throw away the wine-soaked paper towels. Once safely in the kitchen, he refocused his breathing and tried to calm his beating heart. It was a good thing too, because as soon as he returned, Roman continued the conversation right back up where it had left off.

Virgil barely had time to sit down before Roman began speaking again. “Yeah, so anyways, back to our conversation, I write tickle fanfiction,” he explained with a smile. “It’s super fun. I have quite the following on Tumblr too! Over three hundred followers and they're growing by the minute!” Roman raved. Virgil just started in utter disbelief.

“Oh, well. That’s, uh, cool.”

Roman’s face lit up in excitement. “I take it you know what tickle fanfiction is?” he asked eagerly.

Virgil’s face heated to a thousand degrees. “No! I-I mean, no, not really. I just, I was being supportive. Yeah.” Virgil cringed at how painfully obvious he was being. This guy had to know his slip up. At least he clearly didn’t have to worry about being judged with Roman. But alarmingly, Roman actually appeared to believe him.

“Oh! Well, it’s the coolest thing. Basically-“ he paused for a moment. “Hm, actually, I guess the best way to explain is to start at the very beginning!”

And there Virgil sat, for an entire hour, as he listened to Roman in great explicit detail explain every aspect of the fixation of tickling, the community he was in, and everything he wrote about without a single stutter or slip up. And Virgil listened the whole way through, flinching at the subconscious wiggling of fingers as Roman discussed teases, and thanking whoever the genius inventor of foundation was, for it was the only thing keeping him from blinding his new roommate with the power of his flush as Roman described lees and lers.

Virgil also found out that apparently Roman was a ler. How…interesting.

Finally, mercifully, Roman stopped talking. “Oh goodness,” he laughed. “I’ve been talking for almost an hour, haven’t I!”

Exactly fifty-six minutes, thought Virgil.

“Sorry, I just get really excited and passionate about tickling and writing! Writing is my biggest hobby, and I love it so much. I try to be in touch with all my followers too, you know? I message back to anyone who messages me first, and reply to comments when I can.”

“Um, yeah. Well, I, uh, better throw this shirt in the wash,” Virgil interjected, leaping from the couch and scurrying out of the room.

Roman stared, watching his roommate in confusion, but ultimately shrugged it off and went to go find his new room.

It had been a week since the incident, and frankly, Virgil had not fully recovered yet. He didn’t even know how to begin to process the fact that a proud, confident ler was now living with him. He desperately wanted to know what Roman’s Tumblr account was to see if he could follow him. But discreetly of course, because even though Roman may be secure and confident in his quirk, Virgil was not, and that was just how it was. It would be easy, right? Just ignore him when he talks about it. Virgil was sure Roman was probably used to it.

Later that afternoon, Virgil was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, and was intensely scrolling through Tumblr on his phone trying to find Roman’s blog, when the man in question walked into the room.

Virgil all but threw his phone across the room in a panic when he heard the heavy footsteps behind him. He spun around. “Uh, y-yes?” he asked, closing his eyes in an attempt to slow his pounding heart rate. Roman didn’t seem to notice the odd behavior.

“Hey, Virge! So, you’re an English major, right?” He pulled up a chair at the dining room table and sat down. Virgil nodded, happy for the change of conversation.

“Yep. Whatcha need?”

Roman pulled out his phone and scrolled for a bit before handing it over to Virgil. “Do you mind proofreading this for any grammar or spelling errors?”

Virgil nodded and accepted the phone, squinting to try and read the tiny print. This wasn’t uncommon for Virgil. Many of his acquaintances often asked Virgil to proofread their emails and letters to bosses and businesses. It wasn’t until a few seconds of staring until he noticed.

It was a tickle fic. Virgil’s face blossomed into a bright red, as he glanced up at Roman who was sitting stone faced and calm.

“What-” he cleared his throat, “What is this?” he asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

Roman tilted his head. “One of my fics! I’m not the best with grammar, and I was really hoping you could help me edit. You know, as a writing major I really want to get better,” he responded with a smile. Virgil took a shaky breath. No, this was fine. Completely and totally fine. He was just reading a fic in the direct presence of a ler, and then giving him pointers on how to make it better.

“Well, um, you could, maybe, reword this better,” he finally said after a minute.

“What part?”

Virgil pointed to a sentence on the screen. “That one.”

Roman looked at him and giggled. “Virge, do you really think I can see that? Just read it to me, silly.”

Virgil’s face felt like it was on fire. “Oh, um. Okay. So you w-wrote, ‘He laughed, squirming all over the bed, as Chuni followed him, massaging his r-ribs.’ Yeah?” He glanced up at Roman to see him listening intently. Oh, this was hard. “Um, so, to make it flow better you can reword it slightly by changing, changing the order.” He cleared his throat again. “For example, ‘He laughed and squirmed all over the bed and Chuni followed him, m-massaging his ribs.’ Does that, um, make sense?” he clarified.

Roman smiled and nodded. “Yeah, it does! Thanks! Anything else?” Virgil shut his eyes in an attempt to control his breathing.

“Well you, um, spelt t-tormenting wrong,” he grimaced. Roman leaned over.

“Oh did I?” Virgil nodded, propping his head up on his arm in a weak attempt to hide his face. “Can you go over the rest with me?”

Virgil pinched his arm. “Yep, sure thing,” he squeaked.

That was by the longest afternoon of his young adult life. But if he thought that was bad, nothing compared to what happened a month later.

Virgil had still not yet found Roman’s blog, and he kicked himself for not checking to see what the title of the one fic he proofread was so he could search it up later. Regardless, he was still very closeted in his secret fantasy, and somehow managed to keep his cool throughout the many conversations where Roman brought up his ler moods, and writings, and such.

“Virgil!” exclaimed Roman, bursting into the room. Virgil jumped slightly from his seat on the couch, nearly dropping his phone.

“Um, yes?” He turned to see Roman holding a ukulele. “Why do you have a ukulele?”

Roman smiled excitedly. “Well, so you know how I talk about teases, right? How they’re essential to the wreckage of a lee?” Virgil forcefully shoved the embarrassment panic creeping up down his throat. “Well, I thought how cool it’d be, as a new type of tease, to write song parodies of nursery rhymes, but make them tickle related!”

Virgil’s stomach twisted in a pleasant coil as he sat in complete shock. Surely not. “I, uh-“

“You wanna hear some?” he asked, bouncing up and down excitedly on his toes. Virgil continued to ogle as he begged his

voice to work.

“Um, s-sure,” he stuttered out, his voice cracking at the end.

Roman beamed. “Perfect! Okay, so you know the song Tiny Tim, right?”

Virgil coughed. “T-the turtle song?” Roman nodded.

“Yep! But I changed it.” He did a strum of the ukulele before beginning to play the catchy tune. “I have a little feather,” he sang out, his voice ringing out with the chords of the instrument. “His name is Tiny Tim, I used him on my lee, to see if he would grin!” Virgil blanched at the teasing lilt in his voice. “I drank up all his laughter, it made him buck and squeal, and now he’s nice and flustered, his smile oh so real!”

Roman finished the song and looked at Virgil expectantly. Unfortunately, at that moment Virgil’s voice decided to duck out and leave him. Roman giggled at him. “Are you speechless at my talent or something?”

Virgil, horrified, frantically willed the embarrassment away as he finally found his voice. “Oh, no, sorry. Uh, yeah no. It was good. Good,” he took a breath while rubbing the back of his neck. “Job. Yeah,” he finished lamely.

Roman pumped his fists in excitement. “Yessss! I was super proud of it! You wanna hear another one?” Rather than wait for a response, he strummed the ukulele again. “Oh, so this tease requires a specific name for it. Do you mind if I just use yours?”

Virgil swore he was going to have a stroke.

“Oh I know a little lee,” he sang, this time playing a new tune. “His name is Wiggle Virgey,” he paused his singing to look at him. “Adding y’s at the end of names makes it teasy,” he explained.

Virgil said nothing.

“He is so very nice, but oh he is so giggly, and so goes his arms, and his arms go like so, and his arms are always so-oh-oh!”

Yep. Virgil was going to die.

After two more verses, Roman finally finished his song and Virgil was all but willing to sell both his kidneys to disappear from this conversation.

“So, what did you think? That one isn’t my best, but I liked it!” Roman commented nonchalantly.

Virgil simply stared and nodded. Roman furrowed his eyebrows in concern. “Are you feeling alright?”

Virgil blinked. “YeAh, why?” His voice cracked as he tried to speak. He quickly coughed to cover it up.

“I don’t know, you just seem sick or something. You’ve been coughing an awful lot. Your face is like bright red and you’ve been oddly quiet,” said Roman. That only made Virgil blush even more.

“No, yeah, no I’m fine,” he answered, waving him off. “Yeah, but I really gotta go work on, um that thing, for school, see ya around.” And with that, Virgil darted out of the room for the second time, leaving Roman standing alone in utter bewilderment.

Virgil had done his very best to avoid Roman after the whole tease incident, which was difficult considering they lived under the same roof. And even worse considering Roman was the most oblivious guy on the planet.

Virgil was in bed, scrolling through Tumblr on his phone, when he saw another post from his favorite writer, TheLeringPrince. He felt his lee mood spike as he saw it was a new tease post. Eagerly, he tapped the post and began to read. Slowly as he read though, something seemed off. The tease post was various nursery rhymes all modified to fit into the theme of tickling. And Tiny Tim was one of them.

Virgil’s heart began to race and his mind started spinning as he hurriedly tried to calm himself down. “No, Virgil,” he breathed out. “No, it’s just a coincidence. Roman probably stole it from this guy or maybe just thought of the same idea.” Ironically, he found himself wishing his roommate was a thief who stole credit from his favorite Tumblr user’s work, rather than admit that Roman was said favorite Tumblr user.

But right at the bottom of the post, there was a little bold sentence that truly made Virgil’s heart stop.

‘And many of you have been wondering about my sudden improvement in my grammar and spelling. Well, you can thank my brand new roommate for helping me proofread all my new fics and teases!’

What was Virgil’s luck? Of all the people on this planet of seven billion, he gets a roommate who, not only is a confident and charismatic ler who happily reads his teases and fics to Virgil, but is also the specific ler that Virgil had been daydreaming about being destroyed by for years.

Virgil wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug whoever ordained this or punch them.

Virgil contemplated it for a while before finally deciding to tell his anxiety to hit the road, and take this glorious opportunity by the horns. So with a deep breath, he clicked on TheLeringPrince’s profile, then DM’s, then opened his keypad.

Immenslee_Ticklish: Hey, just wanted to say that I really like your stuff, and that you seem like a pretty cool dude. Would you want to chat sometime?’

Immediately, he received a reply.

TheLeringPrince: Why thank you, Immenslee. And yes, I would love to chat ;)

Days went by, and Roman and Virgil were talking through their blogs constantly. Roman had taken to teasing Virgil quite thoroughly on the platform, and Virgil obviously ate it up. Roman even mentioned wanting to meet up sometime. Virgil would be lying if he said he didn't nearly pass out at that.

Of course they still talked in real life, only Roman didn’t know who Virgil was. Oddly enough, Virgil almost felt safer talking to his Tumblr handle rather than to him in real life. He had to laugh at that. Six months ago, Virgil would have fainted at the idea of living with his favorite ler. And now, here he was, finally having something to satiate his ever present, insatiable lee mood! And he was hiding.

He just wasn’t sure how to tell him! Leave his Tumblr open? Text him? Tell him through Tumblr DMs? For goodness’ sake, what was he so afraid of? This guy was clearly accepting and non judgmental about the whole thing. Most people would kill to be in this position. Well, most lees anyways.

Little did Virgil know, but Roman was already pretty suspicious. He didn’t have any evidence of the fact, but he was pretty certain that Virgil had to have some lee in him somewhere. His blush and stutters were getting increasingly obvious and even though Roman could be an idiot, he wasn’t stupid. It took him a while to figure it out, but once he did, there was nothing stopping him. Except of course, if Virgil for some reason just didn’t want to be tickled. That was fine too. But there was something in him that made Roman sincerely doubt that was the case.

Roman had never had a problem about being open with his fixation. He figured that if people were going to judge him based on a silly little liking, then they weren’t worth being in his life. He could understand why some people hid it, sure. It was scary to be so open about something other people found weird. But Roman just never had that fear.

But one day, Roman got a message. It was from a follower named Immenslee_Ticklish. Now Roman recognized this user, as they often commented, liked, and reblogged alot of his works. They were great fans, and apparently very much lee themselves. And all of a sudden, after two whole years of following Roman, they decide to message him.

Interesting.

But Roman ultimately decided to keep quiet about his suspicions because if Virgil wasn’t saying anything, then he didn’t want Roman to know. And Roman respected that. Even if he really wanted to tickle him.

Turns out he didn’t have to wait much longer.

Virgil had practiced it for weeks. He knew exactly what to say, and how he was going to say it. But that all flew out the window as he stared at Roman.

“Virgil, buddy, you’ve been staring at me for three minutes now,” commented Roman, raising an eyebrow at the man in question. “You came to tell me something.” Virgil inhaled deeply and tried to speak, but the words got caught in his throat. Roman gave him a sympathetic look. “Hey, it’s okay. No need to be scared.” Virgil just stared at him. Roman’s heart broke for this kid, who was obviously scared out of his mind. “I promise I’m not going to be upset, or judge you, or do whatever your pretty little head is thinking might happen.

“I’mImenseleeTicklish!” he spat out suddenly. Roman jumped in surprise, but as soon as it hit him, he grinned.

“Oh, are you now?” he hummed, a sly smile watching the flustered boy with great amusement.

“Wait, no, I meant like the username. I’m the user Immenslee_Ticklish. I didn’t mean it like I’m immensely ticklish, well, I might be, but-“

Roman’s amused look caused him to stop talking. “So, yes?”

Virgil nodded. “I’m, uh, I’m a lee. Yeah.” The two of them stared at each other, neither one breaking the deafening silence or the intense eye contact.

“Well that’s very valuable information,” Roman stated calmly, being the first to speak, and before walking away and into the kitchen.

Wait?! Before walking away?!

Virgil’s mouth dropped open as he watched Roman walk off. “Wait!” he called indignantly. Roman paused, smirking away from Virgil.

“Yes?”

Virgil just stared for a minute, waving his arms dramatically as if it would help him speak. “Aren’t you going to, um, do something?”

Roman turned around to face him, as Virgil paled at seeing Roman smile darkly at him. “Like what?”

Realization hit him like a truck, and Virgil gaped in absolute horror. He was going to make him ask, wasn’t he? Oh, this was mean. So, so, so mean.

But at this point the lee mood was so bad that his dignity was going to have to leave him.

“I- were you, um,” he covered his face with his hands. “Were you gonna tickle me?”

He could hear Roman’s evil grin. “Do you want me to?”

“Um, yes. Please.” He swallowed harshly.

Roman clapped. “Why look at those manners!” he praised, gleaming at the whining boy in the living room. “I would love to. But to be clear, what exactly do you want to happen?”

“W-What do you mean?” Virgil asked, peeking from behind his hands.

“Tell me exactly what you want for me to do. In explicit detail, or I won’t do any of it,” cooed Roman.

“You’re so mean,” Virgil whined into his hands again. Roman laughed at his expense.

“I’m waiting~”

Virgil glared at him through his hands. “I want you to wreck me and tease me and destroy my resolve, and I want you to do it now! Please.” He added, lest he be made to repeat his request in a more polite manner. Roman reeled back, a tad surprised at the direct request.

“Well, good for you. I’d be happy to,” he nodded, impressed. “Very well. Meet me in your room in ten minutes~” he teased with a wink.

After he left, Virgil let it sink in. He was about to be ruthlessly teased and broken by his ler idol in ten minutes.

Oh he was going to die.

Virgil’s heart thudded out of his chest as he stared up at the malicious coy smile leaning over him. He had never been so excited yet so terrified in his life. “So, darling,” cooed his captor. “Shall we begin your destruction?” Roman’s voice lowered significantly into a husky tone that sent shivers down Virgil’s spine. He tugged on his restraints, waves of excitement and panic flooding his body, and feeding his lee mood from before. He had waited years. Years and years and years for this day. To be in this position, and about to get wrecked into oblivion. He had no idea what Roman was going to do, but he was excitedly terrified.

Roman took a single finger and began aimlessly swirling around Virgil’s belly, going in zigzag patterns, curlicues, and idle shapes while he rested his head on Virgil’s chest. Virgil’s breath hitched, the gentle touches not quite tickling, but was setting an amazing precedent for what was about to take place. Roman let out a deep breath, purposely aiming it for Virgil’s neck, rewarding him with a satisfying squeal as the man scrunched up his shoulders as much as he could.

“I have a dilemma, Virgil,” sighed Roman melodramatically. “I feel like, since you’ve waited all this time for some expert ler to completely wreck you, destroy you, and undo your very resolve, that you ought to have a good experience, hm?” he commented, glancing up to look at Virgil’s wobbly smile. “I mean you’ve been so patient! It’d feel criminal to deprive you of the best possible experience. Don’t you agree?” He paused, waiting for a reply while still mindlessly twisting his finger on the pale expanse of skin, but all Virgil did was squeak softly in embarrassment.

Suddenly, Roman snapped his fingers, causing Virgil to flinch slightly. “I’ve got it!” he announced, smiling darkly. “Let’s let you choose.”

Virgil’s eyes widened in pure horror. “What?”

“Why choose your own teases, of course! Who better knows exactly how to tease and fluster you, and turn you into a giggling blushy pile of goo then yourself?” Roman enunciated his point with a few teasing pokes to his chest. Virgil squirmed in an attempt to get the pokes to hit his stomach but he had no such luck. “So, Giggles, you want to try it?”

Virgil bit his lip and bounced his legs anxiously. “No!” he whined, his wobbly smile growing by the minute.

Roman grinned. “No? But it’s like a choose your own adventure! You choose your own teases and tools! Won’t that be fun?” Virgil shook his head violently. Roman mock pouted. “But I think it will be fun!”

Virgil made a strangled guttural sound in reply. “I-“

“Yes, dear,” he urged, resting his chin on Virgil’s chest once again.

Virgil sighed and closed his eyes in frustration. “I-I can’t tease,” he mumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I can’t tease!” he repeated, only slightly louder this time. Fortunately, Roman heard him.

“Oh well, that’s not a problem, silly. You aren’t saying the teases. I am!” he replied with a smirk. Virgil peaked one eye open.

“But I thought you said-“

“Oh, I know what I said,” he answered, cutting Virgil off. “No, I already know what teases you chose. You don’t have to say a word.” To Virgil's confusion, he pulled out his phone. It wasn’t until Roman started scrolling and grinning that Virgil’s eyes widened in panicked realization.

“No, no, no, NO!” Virgil called out, bouncing in anticipation. He tried lunging for the phone but his bonds held him back.

Roman pretended not to hear him. “Hm, let’s see. Posts, then notes, then-“ Roman grinned up at Virgil. “Ah yes, reblogged by Immenselee_ticklish! Oh, look there’s a comment too!”

“No! No, don’t read the comment!”

“It says, ‘Ahhhh!! Oh gosh, I’m blushing so hard!!’ Hold up.” Roman turned to look up at Virgil who was fire engine red. He smirked. “Would you look at that. Anyway, it continues to say, ‘I would die if anyone said this to me!’ And then there’s a blushing face.”

He smirked again as he faced Virgil. “So, would you say you’ve died?” Virgil whined longingly. Roman nodded while looking back at his phone. “I’d say yes.”

Roman continued to scroll only for his eyes to light up in delight. “Oh looky here!” Virgil slammed his eyes shut, not daring to.

“No, no, no, no.”

“Virgil look! It’s a gif! Oh wow.”

Oh yeah. Virgil definitely wasn’t going to look. He was strong, he was resilient, and nothing could break him!

“Aww and they’re getting their bellybutton tickled! Isn’t that your most favorite spot in the whole wide world?”

Um, yeah. It was easy, mind over matter. He wouldn’t look. Easy.

“Hey! And it’s your best friend! Mr. Toothbrush!”

Yeah, he... What was he saying?

“Roman, please,” he begged, eyes still clamped shut. The endless teases were killing him. His ever present lee mood had grown into a ravenous monster that he thought would never be satiated. His body screamed for tickles. It was more than a want, or even a craving. It was a need at this point. And Roman knew that and it only fueled his evil ler facade all the more.

“Aw, poor baby. Don’t worry, we’ll start soon,” he cooed.

Roman made Virgil lie there, flustered and helpless, and oh so terribly lee, and wait as he read out tease after tease that Virgil reblogged from his Tumblr, and even read the comments from the lee himself. Virgil wished with every second of every minute spent lying on that bed he had never made that Tumblr account.

After ten or so teases, Roman finally, mercifully, put the phone away. Virgil sighed in relief. Finally! He was going to be tickled to his limits, then past them, then have them pushed even further. He didn’t just want to be broken. He didn’t just want to be destroyed. No, he wanted so much more.

Roman marched up to the table and placed both hands on Virgil’s thighs. “So, a little birdie told me you like baby talk,” he teased. Virgil blushed, which Roman took for a yes. “So would a, oh I don’t know, little kitchy, kitchy, coo would get you all flustered, hm? A little-“ his voice dropped an octave. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~” his face morphed to a maniacal grin.

Virgil's face turned crimson as he wiggled around on the table. “Noho!” He barked out a laugh. Roman raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“No? Hmm. What about nursery rhymes, huh? You sure liked the ones I sang to you earlier this month! Do you want to hear some of those? ‘Cause I got some good ones~” Roman whipped out a feather seemingly out of nowhere and waved it teasingly in front of Virgil’s nose. Virgil yelped at the sensation.

“I have a little feather,” sang out Roman, his voice rising and falling with the feather. “His name is Tiny Tim. I used him on my lee, to see if he would grin.” He winked at Virgil who just blushed deeper. “I drank up all the laughter, it made him buck and squeal, and now he’s nice and flustered,” Another wink. “His smile is so real.”

Virgil was already softly giggling at the song, and it only encouraged Roman to keep going. “You got a little giggle button, right? I have another fun song, just. for. him!” he cheered, punctuating each word with a poke to his bellybutton, making Virgil squeal each time.

He took the feather and ran it in a large teasy circle all around the vast expanse of vulnerable tummy. “Ring around the belly, a button full of jelly,” he heard Virgil snort when the feathers hit a particular spot on his waistline. “-tickle, tickle, they all fall down!” Roman ended the verse with several flicks of the fluffy feather to Virgil’s bellybutton, causing him to buck and laugh, but it was still technically soft tickles. Virgil didn’t want soft tickles right now.

“Rohohoho,” he whined through the giggles. Roman ignored him.

“Let’s see. Oh, here’s another favorite of mine!” He cleared his throat and lifted the feather again. “Oh head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes! Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes~” He ran the feather all over the respective places, and it didn’t tickle much, but Roman’s plan was working. Virgil was getting more and more flustered, and more and more ticklish.

“Oh feet, tummies, arms and chins, arms and chins. Feet, tummies, arms and chins, arms and chins~” Roman watched in glee as Virgil’s face turned darker and darker with each song, and how even though the tickling was so light, his giggles were still sharp.

All of a sudden, with zero warning, Roman ditched the feather and attacked Virgil’s tummy with all ten fingers. “Oh, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes! She’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes-“ Virgil fell into deep belly laughter as he thrashed and pulled desperately. “She’ll be tickling Virgil senseless, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless, she’ll be tickling Virgil senseless when she comes!”

Virgil had never felt more embarrassed in his life, but that made the tickling so much more fun. After two more verses, Roman stopped. Virgil whined again at the loss of contact.

Roman chuckled. “You really are a hopeless lee, aren’t you?”

Virgil scrunched his nose. “Shut up.”

Roman’s eyebrows raised in an accusatory way. “Do you want to say that again?”

“What? Shut up?” snarked Virgil, trying to wind him up to get wrecked and forced to apologize, but unfortunately, Roman saw right through his plan.

“Wow. You really are desperate. Stooping so low as to provoke me to lash out and wreck you right this minute?” Roman tisked lightly. “Imagine! You honestly think that I’m going to fall for the oldest trick in the book? I hate to break it to you, Stormcloud, but I’m far more experienced than you think I am,” he added, shaking his head in disapproval. “I ought to make you wait longer just for that.”

Virgil gasped and shook his head desperately. “No, no, please no! I’m sorry!”

Roman shook his head again. “Poor little lee. So desperate you’ve lost your dignity. Here you are, begging like this for me to so horribly wreck you until you can’t even remember your own name.” Despite his words of disapproval, he smiled. “Oh course, I don’t blame you. I am very talented so I understand your eagerness. For that reason, I will grant mercy and not punish you for your lousy attempts at brattiness.”

Virgil let out the biggest sigh of relief imaginable. At last! He was going to be wrecked!

“But I still have one more game before we start.”

Virgil threw his head back onto the bed with such a force it almost hurt. “Oh my gosh, Roman please,” he begged, whining at a new frequency.

Roman sighed. “One more! You can do it. I have to make sure your ticklish little body is at optimal sensitivity! So, here’s an easy game to finish you off.” He walked around to the side of the bed. “Just gotta warm you up,” he winked before wiggling his fingers menacingly above Virgil. Virgil asked, and sucked in his stomach, but Roman simply drew in closer. The fingers were so tantalizingly close to the tickle spot, and Virgil swore he felt them already. And in his mind, he pleaded and begged with Roman to hurry up and get on with it already, but on the outside he was completely stunned into silence.

Until Roman did a fake out.

Roman launched his wiggling fingers at Virgil full speed without any sort of warning, and Virgil lost it. He laughed, he snorted, he cackled, and he squealed. He jerked and thrashed all over his limited free space for a whole minute until he realized. Roman’s hands were behind his back, as he watched Virgil with the most evil look you could imagine.

“You're awful!” screeched Virgil, both mortified by his own reaction, and furious at Roman’s trick. Roman laughed out loud.

“Hmm, okay, okay. I’ll wreck you now. Besides, I can’t just keep you here, endlessly teasing and torturing you forever?” He paused with a smirk. “Actually-“

“Roman!” Virgil cried out, laughing in both frustration at his lee mood, and anticipation from what was coming.

Roman laughed at his panic. “I’m just kidding, jeez. You poor lee. Alright, I’ll wreck you, on the one condition you tell me your worst spots.”

Virgil’s eyes turned to saucers. “I-what?”

“You heard me! Give me those death spots or else no tickles~” he sang, thinking the nerves were from his tease.

But strangely, Virgil turned more bashful, rather than flustered. It was almost a sheepish look on his face that replaced the embarrassment. That certainly got Roman’s attention.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing in slight concern. Virgil scrunched his face up and looked down.

“I-I well, I don’t know what my worst spots are,” he replied with a shy smile.

Roman was confused for about two seconds before it dawned on him. “You-“ he stared in utter wonderment. “You‘ve never tickled before, have you?”

Virgil’s face flushed under the attention. “Well, yeah, no not really,” he mumbled sheepishly.

Oh, this was a game changer. Roman beamed. “You mean to tell me, I’m your first time?” Virgil smiled again, and nodded hesitantly. Roman had never been so excited in his life. “Well then, I guess we have work to do!” he commented, a wicked grin and a twinkle shining in his eye.

Roman turned and walked down to the end of the bed, clicking his tongue as he examined the body in front of him. “I suppose the best thing to do would be to either go bottom to top, or top to bottom.” He tilted his head up at Virgil while smiling. “Would you by any chance have a preference?”

Virgil huffed. “I guess, I don’t know. Bottom to top?” he suggested, more or so not caring as he really just wanted to be wrecked already. Roman clapped.

“Perfect! That means I get to play with your cute little feet!” he cheered. Virgil blushed. Roman held tight of the right foot’s ankle and took the same pointer finger and carefully slid it from the tippy top of the toes all the way down to the heel. Virgil immediately started his giggles anew, wiggling his upper body at the light touches. “Oh good! It seems you’re ticklish here! What else can we try?”

Roman soon added the other four fingers into the fray and began ruthlessly scratching up and down and all around the soft tender arches, making Virgil snort and fall into deeper laughter at the feeling. He tickled all around the foot, being very thorough and detailed in his methods, making sure not one inch of ticklish skin was left unscathed. Then, without warning, he moved up to the toes. He wiggled each little toe and scolded them if they curled up. Eventually, he pulled them back and gave them a good scratching underneath as punishment for their misbehavior. Virgil thrashed like nobody’s business, finally getting exactly what he wanted, and it was so much better then he had ever thought. And he certainly didn’t complain when Roman informed him that his other foot was getting left out, and needed the same tickly treatment.

After both feet were thoroughly assaulted (Roman may have had to go back to the right foot again, it seemed to be getting lonely), he spidered his fingers all the way up to Virgil’s knees. Virgil smiled in anticipation, bouncing his leg as he waited.

“Ah yes, the knees. Such an underrated tickle spot! Very few people think about the knees being so terribly ticklish, but they can be! It all starts with this little pressure point, riiiight here.” Roman began rapidly wheezing the muscle right above Virgil knee, making him fall into deep laughter. “Oh wonderful!” shouted Roman above the loud laughter. “It seems as if your knees are just as horridly sensitive as I thought!” His squeezing fingers quickly switched to spidering ones, and darted right on the underneath of his knees, sending Virgil snorting.

Roman awed at the adorable sounds. “Aww, aren’t you just the cutest little thing? Are my tickly, tickly tickles making you giggle, hm?” he cooed, relishing in the deep red color that was Virgil’s face and the tiny snorts mixed in with the hysterical giggles.

“Nohohohoho!” Virgil giggled out, trying to kick his legs but the restraints keeping every inch of ticklish skin in place.

“No?” questioned Roman. “Well, that’s a shame! Why don’t we try something else then,” he pondered and immediately grabbed the young man’s thighs, squeezing sporadically and rapidly every area of muscle. Virgil’s eyes bulged out as he flung himself to sit up right and cackle.

Roman’s eyes lit up with mischief at the extremity of Virgil’s reaction. “Oh, what's this? Does this tickle? Are you ticklish here?” he asked, the teasing lilt in his voice making the ruthless squeezing at his thighs all the worse. Virgil fell back on to the bed to wheeze with laughter when Roman moved up closer to his hips. “Virgil!” scolded Roman. “Hello! I’m talking to you! Does this tickle?” he asked again, not for one second stopping the wretched attack on the loathsomely sensitive muscle.

When Virgil still didn’t reply, Roman felt a spike of worry, and slowed his squeezing fingers just a little. Virgil’s wheezy laughter died down, until it was more or less hysterical giggles.

“Yes!” Virgil called out. Roman was confused for a minute until he remembered the question he had asked a few minutes earlier. He took his hands off his legs, leaving Virgil limp and giggly.

“Oh good! See I guessed it did, but I was just checking,” he winked. “Congratulations, Virgil. I think you might have your first death spot.”

Virgil weakly held up a thumbs up, his giddy smile bright enough to blind someone. Roman smiled at him softly. “How about we take a break?” So he sat next to Virgil on the bed, gently rubbing his shin comfortingly, waiting for Virgil to regain all the breath he’d lost until finally-

“Um, I think I’m ready to go again,” piped up the younger man. Roman grinned.

“You sure?” Virgil nodded eagerly. Roman leaned next to Virgil’s ear, making him squeak. Oh he’d have to remember that.

“Well then,” he purred, his voice sending shivers down Virgil’s spine. “Allow me to continue your destruction.” He peered down the bed where Virgil was stretched out, and examined it carefully like a puzzle. He walked down the side to the right of his hips. “Now if my memory serves me, correct me-” Roman began, but Virgil barked out a laugh. Roman glared at him. “What?”

“Dude, what did you say?” he asked, laughing again. Roman crossed his arms.

“If my memory serves me, correct me. It’s a saying!” Virgil burst out laughing again. “What?!”

“The saying is, ‘If my memory serves me, correctly,’ not correct me,” he teased, still laughing at Roman’s miss interpretation.

“Okay, yeah, laugh it up, Virgil,” he retorted, immediately squeezing his right thigh again. Promptly the teasing man burst into laughter at the feeling, and proceeded to howl on the bed. “Don’t correct me again!” he playfully scolded before ceasing the tickling.

Roman crawled up on the bed in between Virgil legs in hopes of being able to navigate better. “Now, I say we try hips next. Some people overlook it, but they look wonderfully ticklish to me~” he sang, already the tone giving Virgil the giggles. Roman grinned at the pink color once again rising to his cheeks. “Aww, does mentioning the tickly tickles making you a little neeeervous?” he sang again, whilst skimming the skin of his waist and pant line. Virgil’s giggles greatly increased from both the tickling and the teasing alike, as he began wiggling around in the bed.

Roman’s scratching fingers followed the wiggly hips with great ease, smiling in adoration as he listened to the sweet soft giggles come from his captive. “You’re adorable,” he commented without really thinking.

“Nuhnuhnuhuhu uhuhuhuh!” the giggling man protested, yet his denial only further proved Roman’s point.

“Yeah huh!” argued Roman. “Alright enough softness, I want to watch you scream.” He put on his best evil ler face as he watched Virgil turn a bright crimson at the threat.

Roman crawled up further until he was practically sitting on Virgil’s hips. “So, let’s test the waters for what are the vast expanse that is Virgil’s tickle spots, shall we?” Virgil pulled up his legs out of reflex, but they were blocked by Roman’s back. He whined.

“Oh, whatever is the matter, dear?” he cooed, leaning in so close Virgil could feel his breath on his neck and ear. The man made a strangled noise in reply. “I’m sorry, darling, I don’t speak lee. Would you mind rephrasing your statement?”

Virgil just shut his eyes, trying to smother the wobbly grin that was slowly creeping up onto his face. Roman took that as a sign to continue.

He spidered his fingers up to Virgil’s sides, and kept them there, smiling as Virgil shuffled all over the bed in anticipation. “Gohohoho ohohohon, alreheheady!” he giggled out.

“Is that anyway to ask for something?” Roman playfully scolded moments before digging into the boy’s sides. Virgil bucked and burst into giggles, thrashing and pulling. Roman didn’t stop for even a second, mercilessly tickling, squeezing and scratching all over the sides and even migrating to the soft skin of the belly. Virgil was in proper hysterics and was loving every minute of it.

“Aww, aren’t you just the cutest thing! What? What’s the matter? Are you ticklish?” Roman teased, digging into the lower belly. Virgil squealed, and fell into even deeper laughter as Roman took to blowing raspberry after raspberry onto Virgil’s poor ticklish tummy. Virgil was in tickly heaven, for sure, but he still hadn’t been broken yet. And that was fine, but his growing hunger still hadn’t been filled, and he couldn’t help but wish deep down that there was somewhere to truly make him scream. He contemplated asking Roman to go for his thighs again.

But then.

As Roman paused the tickling on his sides and began to feel around, something happened.

Virgil could only possibly describe it as maybe a jolt of euphoric electricity that shocked him into the pit of his stomach. Something that found the roaring lion that was his lee mood and slapped it in the face. Something that sent shivers to his spine and butterflies to his stomach. Something that made him shriek at the mere feeling of Roman’s presence. If Roman’s dastardly laughter upon finding the spot was any indication, Virgil was screwed.

“Well, looky here,” he noted, looking up at Virgil with a gleam in his eye, further confirming the reality that Virgil was about to experience. “It seems we’ve found something.”

Roman tested the spot again: a rib, nestled warmly in between a tiny layer of fat, and the beginning of his armpit. He sharply poked the rib, eliciting a similar shriek as before. Virgil’s eyes grew like saucers as he fought with his own mind on how he felt. Was he terrified? Was the overwhelming amount of ticklish sensations about to course through his body like an electric current terrifying? Or was he excited? That after all these years of begging and pleading for someone to come into his life and do this very thing to him?

Virgil didn’t have time to decide, as Roman promptly dug in.

Virgil said he wanted to scream, and scream he did. His body was too overwhelmed to even thrash at this point, no, it merely fell limp and took every bit of torture Roman was giving to it. Roman took his pointer finger and thumb, making them into a claw motion, and pinching all over the bone. He pinched up and down, left to right, and repeated the sequence, soaking in every plea and beg and cry from Virgil. He wiggled in between the bone, and even took to scratching the armpits as well. Virgil was happily losing his mind. But it wasn’t over.

No, because out of nowhere, Roman pulled from under the bed a bottle of oil, and immediately began pouring it into his hands. Virgil greedily sucked in the oxygen as he waited for Roman to start again. His eyes followed him, watching Roman complete his moves with an eagerness about him. He was ready.

Virgil only had to wait a minute longer before Roman took his sweet time, slowly covering every inch of both armpits in the slippery liquid, purposely sliding his fingers and nails in such a way to make Virgil start to laugh. And then with both hands, he dug in again.

Oh, if he thought it was bad before, no, this was true torture. The oil made the fingers glide pristinely on the sensitive skin, and thereby ticking seemingly everywhere at once. Roman still concentrated on squeezing both top rib bones on either side at the same time, while allowing the nails to scratch along the armpits and other ribs as he did it.

And Virgil screamed. He screamed and screamed louder than he had ever before. He couldn’t even be concerned at the fact they were living in an apartment, and if they neighbors would be worried. Virgil screeched at the top of his lungs, his voice no longer even saying words or please at this point, just pure unshackled ecstasy in waves unmeasurable. He screamed and laughed his voice hoarse, kicking and tugging in desperation to escape the torture he was being subjected to.

“So,” commented Roman nonchalantly, yet very loudly to be heard over the booming laughter. “I was wondering if you could give me a quick performance review. You know, it is my first time and all.”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-“

“Okay, so that’s not too bad. Anything else?”

Virgil silently screamed as he felt Roman vibrate his fingers into both bones once more.

“Oh good! Well, I appreciate your input, thank you.”

Virgil was loving every solitary second of this, after all, this is what he had wanted. He wanted exactly this. But, unfortunately, he needed to breathe. So he called out.

“YEL-“ he stopped mid screech, his own laughter cutting him off. Roman stopped immediately.

“Was that yellow?” he asked, face contorting with worry. Virgil didn’t answer at first, only focused on taking in as much oxygen as he could get.

“Yeheheah,” he replied, the leftover giggles still dying out.

Roman’s evil ler face melted as a fond one replaced it. “Wow, I’m impressed. That’s definitely your death spot, and you only called out yellow. I could never last as long as you did,” he marveled.

Even with as winded as Virgil was, he was still trying to tease back. “Oho, so you have a death spot, then?” he teased with a smirk. Roman blushed.

“Oh shut up. Just so you know, you still technically haven’t called red yet,” he retorted cockily. Virgil nodded before laying his head down for a minute to rest. “Do you want water?” Roman asked him.

Virgil shook his head. “No, I’m almost done. I’d rather not get up then get back down.” His insatiable lee mood was shrinking drastically. But, there was one more thing he wanted. “So, um,” he looked up at Roman sheepishly. “Can I do a request?”

Roman smiled fondly. “Of course. This is your session after all.”

Virgil fidgeted as much as he could despite his hands being tied. “So, I kind of have a favorite spot. Like, after you tickled me. I realized I might have a favorite.”

Roman’s heart practically burst on the spot. “Oh yeah? Let me hear it.”

Virgil wrinkled his nose in embarrassment, and stayed quiet for a minute. Roman chuckled. “Come on little lee, I can’t help you out if you don’t ask,” he cooed, gently spidering his fingers on the tops of his feet, making him let out a quick giggle at the touch.

“Ohohokay, okay. Um,” he looked away bashfully. “Can you go back to, back to my stomach? You, you can tease. Too. If you want, or whatever,” he added quickly, still refusing to look Roman in the eye. Roman beamed.

“Why, I would love to.”

Roman sat down next to Virgil, and actually undid his cuffs, much to Virgil’s surprise. “Alright, now keep your arms up,” he whispered, sending a pink flush to his cheeks.

“W-what?” he giggled shyly. Roman poked his tummy.

“You heard me. You gotta keep them up aaaaall by yourself.”

Virgil giggled again, and cautiously raised his arms above his head and gripped the headboard. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Roman nodded with a smile and began lightly skittering his fingernails all over Virgil’s quivering tummy. Virgil immediately burst into soft, sweet giggles, the ones he could probably stop if he tried, but definitely didn’t want to, and rocked back and forth onto the bed. Roman kept the fingers teasing his sides gently, then lifted up his shirt slightly and started peppering cute little kisses all over the pale skin. Virgil squealed lightly and giggled slightly harder at the wonderfully maddening feeling, drinking in every bit of feeling he could.

Finally after about ten minutes, Virgil slowly lowered his arms from the headboard and Roman stopped. Overwhelming exhausted overcame him like an ocean and he yawned. “Thank you, Roman. This was the best day of my life.” Roman smiled at the compliment.

“Why I’m so happy it was, Virgil. We will certainly do it again.” He stood up to leave, but Virgil grabbed his arm.

“Stay with me?” he asked, pulling on his arm like a child. Roman chuckled.

“Of course.”

And the two of them napped together, each so peaceful and happy in that they found each other, and waking up wondering if it was all just a dream.

#tickle fic #pineapple anon #pineapple writing #pineapple fics #sanders sides tickling #lee!virgil #ler!roman #ticklish!virgil #sanders sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #platonic prinxiety

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tcpimpabutterfly · 3 years

Text

THE ULTIMATE RELATIONSHIP TAG

Status: Accepting

@streetsofsecrets said: cece and angelo 😌

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice?: I don’t think their arguments ever get that serious and Cece is lucky that she got the tamest Amici, Angelo doesn’t really have that rage like his older brother or sister.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?: please, where are either of them are going to go? Melissa’s house so she can kick them out and force them to make up?

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?: Angelo might be dramatic and go to Cynthia’s apartment for an hour of two, but he always ends up coming back.

Who trashes the house?: . I can see Cece getting a little frustrated and maybe flipping something small over like a trash can but that’s really it.

Do either of them get physical?: NOOOOO! Angelo’s not even dramatic enough to punch the walls.

How often do they argue/disagree?: not very often or at least nothing too serious. Most of their disagreements are things like “I don’t like that sweater you put our ferret in.” And things alike.

Who is the first to apologise?: Angelo. It’s true, he’s a simp. He’ll slip out of the house and return with all of her favorite things. One time he came back with a whole new ferret!

Sex:

Who is on top?: Theure the type of couple that likes to experiment and doesn’t do typical positions like missionary. But, when they do decide to take a break from their wild position Angelo is usually the one on top.

Who is on the bottom?: occasionally Angelo will move to the bottom position just to observe Cece on top of him, but she’s usually the bottom.

Who has the strangest desires?: Cece is definitely bringing new ideas and discussions to the bedroom that Angelo wouldn’t even think of. He has to stop letting her wander off. Or not because they always usually end up liking her ideas.

Any kinks?: nothing too extreme or at least not on Angelo’s side. They might pull out cuffs every now and then or some toys just for the hell of it.

Who’s dominant in bed?: you would never think a himbo like Angelo would be as dominant as he is in the bedroom, but you’d be mistaken! That signature Amici passion and rage likes to show out in the bedroom. He’s a ‘hold your hands behind your back in doggy style and make you beg, maybe even smack you’ type of dominant. Not extreme, but enough that you know he’s in charge.

Is head ever in the equation?: OF COURSE! Angelo loves to give. He can spend hours between Cece’s legs.

If so, who is better at performing it?: while he is good at what he does, Cece does pull through every now and then and suck his souod out of him.

Ever had sex in public?: I feel like the club is their go to spot honestly

Who moans the most?: Cece, Angelo is more of a grunt and swear type.

Who leaves the most marks?: Angelo. Catch Cece waking up to huge hickes all over her neck.

Who screams the loudest?: Angelo when he gets to his climax.

Who is the more experienced of the two?: Angelo. He’s had his fair share of one night stands from the bar and he doesn’t mind adding to Cece’s experience.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?: Hmmm, 75% of the time it’s just casual sex but they’ll slip some soft love making in there.

Rough or soft?: A mixture of both.

How long do they usually last?: A good hour. Two if they’re really in the mood that day.

Is protection used?: loosely, they’re not too big on it but every now and then Angelo will whip it out just to try and seem responsible.

Does it ever get boring?: Never, Cece would never let intimate moments between them be dull!

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?: In the maintenance closet at work, while the bar was full too!

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children?: No. Angelo really doesn’t want children at all. He would like to avoid that for as long as he can and live his life to the fullest. He’s not even the type where they end up having an oppsie daisy and end up loving/wanting more children: that one is enough for him for a while.

If so, how many children do your muses want/have?: Two just so he won’t have an only child. The ferrets are enough as it is.

Who is the favorite parent?: They’re both so lovable, even as unexpected parents, this question is so trifling!

Who is the authoritative parent?: Angelo. The Italian dad in him really comes out sometimes. Old school Italian too, you can thank his grandma on his dad’s side for that.

Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school?: Angelo. The both of them honestly.

Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around?: I feel like their child would be sneaky and do it on their own just like their mama.

Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children?: The both of them!! They’re those embarrassing parents in the stands wearing their kids face on their shirts and screaming.

Who goes to parent teacher interviews?: Cecilia got that. Angelo hates schools.

Who changes the diapers?: Cecilia.

Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby?: Angelo. Being a bartender has gotten him a crazy sleep schedule after so long so he has no problem with it.

Who spends the most time with the children?: Their schedules really aren’t that busy so I’d say the both of them.

Who packs their lunch boxes?: Angelo. And yes, he does sneak and give them more junk food sometimes.

Who gives their children ‘the talk’?: If they muussstt, I think the two of them would do it together. Using ferrets as an example of course so it’s not too uncomfortable on their end as well.

Who cleans up after the kids?: Cecilia. I feel like it’s built into her after all those years from being around Delores.

Who worries the most?: The both of them worry a lot but for different reasons, Cece a little more than Angelo.

Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from?: Look I’m not saying watch out for Leonel, but watch out for Leonel ! Either him or Angelo’s grandma on his dad’s side. Yes, that old lady is kicking around.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle?: Angelo. He’s a big baby. Cece will just be chilling on the couch and here he comes out of nowhere to lay on her.

Who is the little spoon?: Angelo. He likes to be held, but he’ll switch with Cecilia every now and then.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?: That heathen Angelo 🤚🏾

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?: Cece but not in a naughty type of way, but in a “I still need to know that you’re into me and like me so let me give you a random hug or something to remind you.” Type of way.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?: They never stop cuddling because of uncomfortableness ! It’s usually because they have to leave for work or somebody keeps calling Angelo.

Who gives the most kisses?: Angelo.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?: They then taking care of their animals into an activity. It’s a lot of them, almost a mini farm, so they decide to do things together to make most of those tasks easier. It’s a great way for them to bond and bond with their animals.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?: On the couch as Angelo watches some new cheesy reality tv show his mom recommended to him.

Who is more likely to playfully grope the other?: Not really grope, but sometimes when Cece walks by he likes to torture her by tickling her or poking her sides.

How often do they get time to themselves?: quite often! Work doesn’t take up a lot of their time, only nightly hours really so they have a lot of time in the day to just waste.

Sleeping:

Who snores?: Angelo and his trifling self. I feel like Cece does too but not like him.

If both do, who snores the loudest?: Angelo. Cece snores softly like her dad.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?: They share a bed! Even in the earlier stages of their relationship he would invite her to come sleep in the bed with him all the time.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?: Cozy up!

Who talks in their sleep?: Angelo will every now and then.

What do they wear to bed?: Angelo just sleeps on a pair of underwear and calls it a day. Angelo lends her shirts to sleep in every night.

Are either of your muses insomniacs?: Nah, they’re just usually up really late for work.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?: yeah, when their sleeping schedules get really out of wack because of work I can see them popping sleeping pills to fix it.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?: please, their limbs are beyond entangled.

Who wakes up with bed hair?: Angelo. He always forgets to put it in a man bun before he falls asleep.

Who wakes up first?: They both sleep in pretty late, but Angelo’s usually up first because he likes to wake up to workout.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?: Angelo. He’s a sucker for romantic gestures like this.

What is their favourite sleeping position?: Cecilia all the way on top of him with his arms around her torso.

Who hogs the sheets?: Angelo. But he hogs Cece too so it makes up for it.

Do they set an alarm each night?: For work, yes.

Can a television be found in their bedroom?: Nope, Angelo prefers to keep it in the livingroom because he likes a completely dark and quiet environment to sleep.

Who has nightmares?: Neither of them. Except your run of the mill strange nightmares every now and then.

Who has ridiculous dreams?: Angelo.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?: Angelo. He might’ve accidentally kicked Cece off the bed once or twice.

Who makes the bed?: Do they really need to do that? They’re just going to slee in it again so what’s the point.

What time is bed time?: Some outrageous time like 1am or whatever time they get off of work.

Any routines/rituals before bed?: None for Angelo. He just puts his hair in a bun and calls it a day.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?: Angelo. He sits there for a good three minutes at the edge of the bed like ‘😒😐’.

Work:

Who is the busiest?: Angelo. Only because besides the bar he has to deal with all the business aspects of the bar and then family business from time to time.

Who rakes in the highest income?: Technically its Angelo because of his connections to crime, but excluding all that they make about the same.

Are any of your muses unemployed?: Cece was for a minute at the beginning of their relationship, but then Angelo offered her a job so not anymore.

Who takes the most sick days?: Angelo. There’s no way his dad needs him there every day. He’ll try and convince Cece to stay home with him too.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?: Cece. I can’t even begin to imagine what he antics that would stop her from doing that.

Who sucks up to their boss?: Neither of them!

What are their jobs?: They both work as bartenders, but Angelo doubles as a martial arts instructor for children and sometimes trains people at his father’s gym.

Who stresses the most?: Cece. She just doesn’t show it a lot but she’s not slick!

Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?: Despite shitty customers every now and then, I think the both of them love their job. Bar tending is one of those jobs that won’t give you the same experiences and run-ins as any other jobs, so it’s never boring for them. Plus, they get to work alongside each other.

Are your muses financially stable?: Yeah. They’re living comfortably. Nothing too lavish, but it’s nice.

Home:

Who does the washing?: Angelo. He likes to make sure all of his workout clothes are cleaned often because you know, infections, so he just goes ahead and does their laundry.

Who takes out the trash?: Their penthouse/apartment thing has a chute in it that lets them just throw the trash down!

Who does the ironing?: Angelo. He likes his clothes looking crisp.

Who does the cooking?: They order those meal kits that come with all the ingredients and do it together.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?: Angelo.

Who is messier?: I’m going to put this one on their pets.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?: Angelo’s trifling self.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?: Angelo. He’s not used to living with other people yet.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?: Neither. Angelo got beat up too much by Romeila as kids for him to forget.

Who is the prankster around the house?: those darn sneaky ferrets!

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?: Cecilia.

Who mows the lawn?: um, neither. If anything Angelo will hire someone or call his dad over to do it.

Who answers the telephone?: Cece because she’s trying to be nosey for all the wrong reasons 🌚

Who does the vacuuming?: They don’t have carpet. Angelo despises it after growing up with it his whole life.

Who does the groceries?: They instacart that baby.

Who takes the longest to shower?: Angelo. He likes to make sure all that gym funk is off of him!

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?: The both of them honestly.

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem?: Not at all!

How many cars do they own?: Just one. They seem to go everywhere together anyway.

Do they own their home or do they rent?: Right now they’re just renting out an apartment, but eventually they’ll settle down into a nice house and buy it when they’re older. Or once they start having kids.

Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside?: neither.

Do they live in the city or in the country?: The city all the way!

Do they enjoy their surroundings?: Yeah, it’s a chill apartment complex they live in and the view is nice.

What’s their song?: Sure Thing by Miguel.

What do they do when they’re away from each other?: Call each other cause they miss each other sksjkdks, but whenever they’re away for each other it’s usually because Angelo has classes to teach, wants to work out, visit his family, or Cecilia wants to go visit Melissa and her family!

Where did they first meet?: At the bar Angelo works out.

How did they first meet?: Angelo just so happened to be babbling to customers that night and talking about Sesame Street while fixing drinks and she just so happened to be one of those customers.

Who spends the most money when out shopping?: Angelo. He’s kinda bougie just a tad bit.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?: Angelo when he’s feeling a little cocky.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?: I’m so sorry Cece, but Angelo is going to chuckle at her if she ever falls in front of him because he’s childish like that 😔

Any mental issues?: *cough* Cece *cough*

Who’s terrified of bugs?: surprisingly, Angelo is.

Who kills the spiders around the house?: He forces Cece to do it or let’s one of their animals eat it.

Who pays the bills?: Angelo. He doesn’t make Cece put in because 1. He has the money & 2. He’s the one who invited her to live with him!

Do they have any fears for their future?: Not really. They’re just enjoying what they have in the moment.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?: Angelo, he likes to give her a taste of the boujie life every now and then!

Who uses up all of the hot water?: Angelo.

Who’s the tallest?: Angelo. The Amicis are some y’all beefy men.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?: Angelo. He needs to “wash” his hair all of a sudden when she gets in.

Who wanders around in their underwear?: The both of them.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?: Angelo. He gets in his own space and just starts vibing.

What do they tease each other about?: They’re one of those couples that have a lot of inside jokes going on. One of them can say a random word like “Cake” and start busting up because of something that happened with them, while everyone else is confused because they have no idea what’s going on or what it means.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?: Neither! They both match each other’s style perfectly. If anything they make fun of everyone else’s style.

Do they have mutual friends?: Yeah! I can see them being in the same circle friends wise and knowing a couple of the same people.

Who crushed first?: Cece. Angelo thought she was cute too, but he didn’t think he would see her again like all of the other cute customers he’s never talked to again.

Any alcohol or substance related problems?: No. For a bartender, Angelo rarely drinks at all. I do believe someone could convince Cece to do crack or something.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?: hmmmm, Cece? Yeah, Cece.

Who swears the most?: Angelo by a landslide. You can thank his grandma for that again.

#( ANSWERED ASKS. )#( ANGELO ANSWERED ASKS. )#( ANGELO & CECILIA. )#STREETSOFSECRETS ( CECILIA. )#streetsofsecrets

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thomas-and-the-chocolate-factory · 4 years

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Thomas and the Chocolate Factory - Chapter 1

A Sanders Sides / Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Crossover

Summary: Remus Duke is the greatest chocolatier of all time, and after living the past few years a recluse, he decides to finally open his factory once again. And it's young orphan Thomas Sanders' dream to win a ticket and get to go! Will he win a ticket? And if he does, will he make it out alive?

Masterpost

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Thomas Sanders was an orphan. He’d never known his parents, and had grown up in an orphanage with the many other kids there all his life. The owners of the orphanage, Dot and Larry, weren’t very wealthy. They tried their best to keep the place in good condition and give all the children the care they needed, but with every passing day, it became more apparent that the place was facing problems.

Not all the children realised as the portions of food became smaller at meals. Thomas did. Not all the children noticed as the chocolate they got weekly as a treat changed to be a monthly treat, and then changed again to a yearly one that every kid only got on their birthday. Thomas did. Not all the children noticed as things in the orphanage like the television and furniture were sold and switched out for cheaper, second-hand stuff. Thomas did. Not all the children noticed the look of relief Dot and Larry had when a child was adopted or fostered, as it meant they had one less mouth to feed. Thomas did.

So, Thomas decided to try and help out. He got an after school job doing the paper round. It didn’t earn much, but Dot and Larry were grateful all the same.

His new job meant the boy would have to pass a certain building in his town four times a day. A building that was torture for him to be near.

This building was a chocolate factory. And it was the largest in the world.

Remus Duke, the owner, was like the local town cryptid. Many in the town were once employed at his factory, where he created the most amazing candy inventions in the world. While the Duke brand chocolate bars were the signature item, other creations included ice-cream that would never melt, gum that never loses its flavour, bubblegum that can be blown to enormous sizes without popping, and more! It was incredible!

However, other chocolatiers grew envious of Remus’ booming business and ability to create things seemingly impossible. So, they sent in spies to go undercover and learn Remus’ secrets. Soon, Slugworth was releasing the ice-cream that never melted, Fickelgruber was selling gum that never lost its flavour, and Prodnose was selling the bubblegum that could be blown to enormous sizes! Remus, panicked, fired all his workers and closed his factory forever.

Forever didn’t last very long.

One day, smoke was coming from the chimneys again. Duke products were being sold at candy stores once more. Remus’ ex-employees raced to the factory, hoping to be given their jobs back. But Remus never came out from the factory to announce his return. Ever since its closure, no one had ever gone in, and no one had ever come out. No one knew who his new workers were. Apparently, shadows appeared in the windows, but no one could ever make them out.

Thomas would give anything to go into that factory. The place had fascinated him ever since he first heard the story of it. He wanted to know how Remus created the things he did, he wanted to know who the workers were, and he wanted to have the chance to try all of the Duke products he could. The only thing he’d ever tried were the chocolate bars he got for his birthday.

That’s why it was torture for him to walk past. As he walked from the orphanage to school, from the school to the news office, from the news office to the houses subscribed to the paper, and from those houses back home, he’d pass those large gates and the smell of warm sweet chocolate would flood and override his other senses. His stomach would growl hungrily, and he’d shuffle by slowly, imagining he were eating it as well as smelling it.

Torture. But blissful torture. It was his method of escapism.

One that he really needed as food portions got smaller and smaller.

One night, he’d been getting ready for bed. Larry came into his room to say goodnight, only for Thomas to speak before he could. “Larry? How much longer will you be able to keep the orphanage open? And where will we go when it closes?”

Larry sighed. He walked over, sitting on the end of Thomas’ bed. “... We don’t know how much longer. But there’s an orphanage in the next town over with a lot of spare rooms and in much better condition. They’ve agreed to take you all in when the time comes.”

Thomas nodded solemnly. “Okay… What about you and Dot? What are you going to do?”

“Dot’s probably going to go back to teaching. As for myself… I’m not that sure yet. But we’ll make do. You don’t need to worry, Thomas.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“We’ll miss you too, Thomas. But it’s okay. We’re not closing this place just yet. Now get some sleep, you have school tomorrow.”

“Okay… Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Thomas. See you in the morning.”

Thomas buried himself under his thin blanket as Larry stood up, flicked off the lights, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Thomas’ eyes drifted to the window. There in the distance was the Duke factory, and the sky above it was filled with stars. And one of said stars was a shooting one, firing across the sky. As he saw it, Thomas wished with all his might that some good luck would come his way. That something would save the orphanage. That he’d get a new life and not have to go hungry anymore.

“I’m home!” Patton Gloop called through the bakery as he stepped inside. Only he shouted in German, obviously, given he lived in Germany.

His mother, Harley Gloop, poked her head through the doorway behind the counter that led to the kitchen. “Pat! Perfect timing, I just put in some cookies in to bake for you. I made an extra batch of dough with no eggs so you could eat it.”

Patton grinned, dropping his school bag. He ran behind the counter and into the kitchen, going right over to the bowl and digging in with the spoon. Mm, it was so good! He really needed this…

Patton hadn’t had the greatest day at school that day… He’d had PE, his least favourite lesson.

Patton was fat. He knew the word had bad connotations, but he didn’t think it should. He liked his body!

Well… he tried to. But it was hard to stay positive when no one else seemed to like his body.

He didn’t get bullied necessarily, but… People would tease him, call him nicknames like ‘butterball’, ‘chubs’ and things like that. He knew most people meant it in an endearing fun way, but it could still hurt sometimes.

However, one person who always meant for it to be taken seriously and hurtfully: his PE teacher. The guy was a… was a b-hole.

I know, it sounds very harsh, but it’s true. Due to Patton’s weight, he decided to force him to work a lot harder than any of the other kids. Patton would have to do exercises double time, put all the equipment away after the lesson on his own, sprint when the other students were told to jog, and jog when other students had to walk, and multiple times had been worked to the point he was physically sick. One of his best friends, Terrence, often found himself knelt beside him, comforting him as his breakfast came back up.

Little did Mr Wyatt, the PE teacher, know, said actions just enabled Patton and made him eat more. Because that’s what Patton did when sad: eat! It made him feel so much better; the delicious tastes distracted him from the bad feelings and made him feel bright and happy! Which is why he was so happy to be having this delicious cookie dough.

“So, honey, how was your day?” Harley asked, finishing up icing a cake to put in one of the display cases for the next day.

“It was good.” Patton didn’t like telling his mum what happened to him in PE. It would make her sad and angry, and he didn’t want to feel the bad feelings he did. “Terrence and I were talking about having another sleepover soon! I’m on snack duty as usual. I know both our favourites, after all. I think it’s going to be at Terrence’s this time.”

“You know what date yet?”

“Not yet. Hopefully soon, I can’t wait!”

Harley smiled, kissing his head as she passed him, taking the cake to the front of the store. “Why don’t you take that dough up with you to the apartment, get in your onesie and pick out a movie. Once the cookies are done, I’ll bring them up and we’ll watch it together.”

“Okay!” Patton picked up the bowl, running upstairs to his and his mother’s flat above the shop. It was small, but neither of them minded. It was all the two of them needed, and they were happy in it. He put the bowl down on the coffee table, before running to his room. “Hey, Toby!”

Toby, Patton’s dog, yawned awake from where he was curled up in his bed. Patton gave the dog a quick hug before going to his wardrobe and pulling out his grey cat onesie. Once he’d changed into it, he whistled for Toby to follow him, before leaving the room, returning to the lounge. He scooped up another spoonful of cookie dough, before going over to the DVD shelf.

“Hm… which one…?”

Patton looked over them a little longer, before smiling and pulling a DVD from the shelf. Winnie the Pooh was his favourite movie, but this was his favourite documentary. Well, by ‘favourite’, I mean the only one he actually liked and was interested in. It was all about the Duke factory, detailing the rise, fall and resurgence of it. Though, Patton didn't care much for the mystery side of the factory’s history. He just liked watching the candies, sweets and chocolates being produced. It looked so delicious, and always made him desperate to go out and buy a bunch of Duke chocolate - it was his favourite, after all.

Patton ran to the TV stand, putting the DVD into the player, before returning to the sofa. Toby immediately jumped up and curled up on his lap. Patton petted the dog’s head, before picking the bowl of cookie dough back up and digging back in. Soon, it was empty. With perfect timing, his mother came in holding a plate of cookies just as Patton put the bowl back on the coffee table. Harley sighed, smiling, as she saw what DVD Patton had chosen. “Why am I not surprised…?”

Patton giggled, taking a cookie from the plate. “You know how much I love Duke chocolate; it’s the best ever!” He smiled, turning back to the screen and pressing play on the remote. “I’d give anything to get a lifetime supply or see inside, or anything like that.”

That would be nice. Maybe, if he got to go and see inside, he wouldn’t be picked on anymore because everyone would want to be his friend to hear his story of what’s inside. Or, if he got a lifetime supply, everyone would want to be his friend so they could have some.

Either way, he’d get a lot of friends. And that would make him happy.

“Daddy, I’m home!”

Roman Salt called through the mansion as he stepped inside, the butler having let him in after driving him home from school. He pulled off his fur coat and handed it to said butler, waiting for his father to come in and greet him. He waited… and waited… and-

There were the footsteps. He turned to the person coming into the entrance hall, and his face soured. It was neither of his parents. Instead it was his nanny, Pryce.

“Welcome home, Roman. Now, I-”

“Where’s my father?”

Pryce sighed. “Roman, your father is on a very important business call in his office, and it will probably last for the rest of the day, so-”

“The rest of the day?!” Roman almost screeched. “My performance is tonight! He’s seriously missing it?!”

“Yes, he is. I’m sorry, Roman, but I’ll be taking you in-”

“This is unfair, he’d better be able to properly make it up to me! If not I’ll SCREAM!”

Before Pryce could respond, Roman was storming off in the direction of his dad’s office. Pryce chased after him, calling for him to stop and calm down, but Roman’s temper was a fire that could not be put out. He slammed open the door, causing his father, Romulus Salt, to almost jump out of his chair.

“YOU AREN’T COMING TO MY SHOW?!”

Romulus muttered to himself, before turning to his laptop. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He muted the call, before standing and turning to his son. “Roman, let me explain-”

“DON’T! I don’t want to hear an excuse! What I want is retribution!”

Romulus sighed, knowing what was coming. He put on a smile. “I’ll get you whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Good! I want a horse. Valerie said she got one for her birthday, and they’re so much better than my stupid ponies. She may be my best friend, but I cannot let her show me up. Also, I would like a new mink coat - the fur’s getting all matted on my current one.”

“Of course, my little pri-”

“I’m not done! I want you to get a professional dressmaker to make me personal, high quality replicas of all the Disney Princess dresses. They need to be good, not like some cheap dress-up thing from a Disney store.”

“Okay, Ro, I’ll make sure you get all those things as soon as possible.”

“...Good.” Roman turned and left the office, head held high, the smuggest possible look on his face.

Once the door was closed, Romulus sighed in relief. Peace and quiet, once again. He took a moment, enjoying the calmness, before sitting back down behind his desk. He unmuted himself from the call, and returned his focus to business.

Roman, on the other hand, found Pryce once again, and gestured for him to follow him to his room. “I need to look my best for the show tonight, I need you to do my makeup. BUT!” He turned on his heels, glaring up at his nanny. “If you ruin any of my palettes, lipsticks, anything … I’ll make sure daddy has you fired.”

Pryce nodded. “Of course. I’ll be very careful, Roman, I promise.”

“You’d better hold to that promise.” Roman led the way into his bedroom, sitting down at his dressing table, which was laden with more makeup than most people would buy in a lifetime. “Right, I’m playing a prince, so I need to look as handsome as possible, obviously - though to be fair, you don’t really need to do much to make that the case. A red and gold colour scheme is best, as my costume is white, red and gold. Make sure it’s bold enough to stand out on stage, but not to the point where it’s too unnatural and weird looking.”

Pryce nodded, already planning out the look in his head. Thanks to working with Roman for so long, he was an expert at creating very high quality makeup looks and then applying them fast. The boy had very high standards, and Pryce knew if he didn’t meet them, he would be fired. And he couldn’t let that happen - the pay was extremely good. So, Pryce had to bring out his skills now, and make sure not to comment on how extreme Roman’s makeup request was for what was just an amateur school play performed by a bunch of ten and eleven year olds.

Well, Roman did like to stand out and be the centre of attention.

Eventually, Pryce finished. He stepped back as Roman turned to his mirror. Pryce waited with bated breath, before Roman hummed. “It’s acceptable.” He picked up a hairbrush and hairspray, handing them to Pryce. “Now do my hair. It needs to be neat, and enough hairspray to hold all evening, but not so much that it will take ages to wash out.”

Pryce held back a sigh, starting to brush Roman’s hair. ‘Don’t worry, Pryce…’ he thought to himself reassuringly. ‘When you finally put your creative writing degree to good use and write a book and get it published, you can quit and move away...’

Roman raised an eyebrow as he noticed Pryce wasn’t quite focussed. He folded his arms, clearing his throat. When that failed to get Pryce’s attention, his expression soured. “PRYCE! Focus!!!”

Pryce started, face flushing. “S-sorry…” He drew his focus back to what he was doing. When he was done, Roman gave a nod which translated to ‘acceptable’.

Roman stood. “We need to get going if we’re going to get there on time. You packed me a dinner to have at school, correct?”

Pryce nodded. “I’ll go grab it from the kitchen and meet you in the entrance hall.” He held the door open for Roman, letting him past. Roman didn’t thank him, heading down to the entrance hall.

“Butler!” he called. He’d never bothered to learn any of the staff’s names apart from Pryce’s, since Pryce was the one who practically raised him.

The butler came in. “Yes, Master Salt?”

“Get my coat.”

“Which one, Master Salt?”

“Hm… the leopard print one, please.”

The butler nodded, heading to the coat room. Roman’s patience wore thin very quickly, as it usually did. When the butler came back, he snatched the coat. “Took you long enough.” He pulled the coat on. “You’ll need to drive Pryce and I to school. He’ll be here in a minute.”

When Pryce finally came in, Roman snatched the bag that contained his dinner away from him immediately. “Be a little faster next time.” He opened the bag, humming as he looked over its contents. Pasta, garlic bread, and for dessert, a Duke chocolate bar. He nodded. “Acceptable. Now, let’s go!” He turned and left the mansion, Pryce and the butler promptly following.

It was all down to this. The teams were tied. The Bayshore Little League team had one batter left. They needed a homerun. Luckily, it was their best player who was stepping up to the plate.

Logan Beauregarde narrowed his eyes at the pitcher, blowing a bubble with the gum in his mouth. He sucked the bubble back in as he raised his bat, gaze focused on the ball in the pitcher’s hand.

The pitcher threw the ball, and as it neared, Logan swung his bat as hard as he could, hitting right on target. The ball was sent flying, and he took off running. He reached first base as the ball had landed and stopped rolling, was at second by the time one of the fielders got to it, reached third as the ball was thrown back near the diamond. It was a race to home base.

He skidded to a stop at the base just before the catcher caught the ball.

Cheers rang out from the home team’s dugout as well as the stand where the team’s family and friends were. Bayshore had won! The team ran out from the dugout, all going into a hug on the field. Logan beamed with pride as his teammates and coach all started cheering him, calling him awesome and the best player. He knew it to be true, but that didn’t change the fact he liked to hear it. However, he knew he couldn’t stay for long; he had somewhere to be. He pushed through the crowd, heading towards the stands, which his dad was coming down from.

“Lo! Oh, you did amazingly, I’m so proud!” Teal Beauregarde smiled, hugging his son close.

“Um, Dad? Hugging… You know I don’t really like hugging…”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Teal pulled away. “But you really did do great.”

“Thank you…” Logan paused, looking around. “Where’s Pa?”

“Oh, he, um…”

Logan sighed. “He didn’t come again?”

“He was probably busy with work. But hey, you know he’ll be really happy when he hears you won!”

“True...”

Teal sighed, trying to think of a way to cheer his son up, before remembering something. “Hey, I ran into Joan earlier. I said maybe they could come round and you two could have a sleepover tonight. We could order pizza, you can watch movies, play video games-”

“Can’t. Busy.”

“Huh?”

“Dad, you know the high school asked me to fill in for a missing member of their mathletes team, and then after that, tonight, I have a chess tournament.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Tomorrow night, then?”

“I have astronomy club, a soccer match and then karate. And before you say the day after, I have robotics club and then ice skating. Now I need to go get changed into my mathlete uniform, Pa’ll probably be here soon to take me there and I need to be ready.”

Logan turned and was about to walk away, when Teal caught his hand before kneeling down in front of him so he was the boy’s height. “Lo, you don’t get too overwhelmed, do you?”

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You do so much in a week, every week. So much extracurricular, so many competitions… Promise me you’ll let me know if it’s ever too much, okay?”

Logan responded with a simple eye roll accompanied with a slightly cocky smirk. “Dad. I’m a world record holding gum chewer; I’ve been asked to fill in for a high school mathletes team when I’m still in the 5th grade; I currently hold the title of the champion of the under elevens national chess championship, a title which I’ll defend tonight; and I could go on with a bunch of my other achievements. Trust me, I can never get overwhelmed by a workload. Remember the motto Pa gave me? ‘Win or die trying’. I’m sticking to it.”

And with that, he turned and walked off towards the changing rooms, blowing a bubble with his gum as he went. Teal sighed as he watched his son leave. He often worried Logan was a little too confident for his own good. Teal wished he had the guts to talk with his husband about what he was teaching their son...

Logan, meanwhile, quickly got changed, before heading back out, only this time leaving the field and going to the sidewalk, where he quickly found his Pa’s car parked. He ran over, before climbing in the passenger seat.

Anton Beauregarde turned to him as the boy climbed in. “Did you win?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Good,” Anton nodded. “Still got your gum?”

“Yes, I do.”

Anton nodded again, before starting the car. As he pulled away from the curb, he started talking again. “It’s very important you win this round of mathletes tonight. You need to get through to the quarter finals, since that’s televised.”

“I’m not aiming to get into the quarter finals,” Logan replied. “I’m aiming to win the finals. And before you say it, yes, I’m aiming to keep my chess championship title. Don’t worry, my motivation hasn’t waned.”

His father didn’t respond, so Logan assumed Anton had heard all he wanted to hear. Logan turned, looking out the window, absentmindedly blowing another bubble.

Logan’s pa had always been… hard to please. He wasn’t the affectionate type, a trait Logan appeared to adopt from him over his development. This led to Logan quickly learning that he would gain praise - the closest thing Anton gave to affection - if he made his father proud by being high achieving and being, well, a winner. So, at school, Logan threw himself into academic studies. He quickly climbed to the top of his classes, and started taking academic extracurriculars. It didn’t do much. So, he started going outside of his comfort zones, dipping into different sports. Baseball, soccer, karate, ice skating, gymnastics. Still nothing. So he decided to do something big: break a world record.

Breaking the world record for the longest time spent chewing the same stick of gum was an obvious choice. Logan liked gum - he often chewed it while working to stop himself fidgeting. The current record was only three months, something he knew he could easily beat. So, he went to a candy store and bought a stick of Duke brand gum, specifically the gum that never loses its flavour. Not losing the fruity taste to bland nothingness would make it easier.

Three months and a day later, he was awarded a certificate saying he was now a world record holder, which was hung up in the living room to this day. Anton finally started acknowledging his son’s achievements and started getting more involved in Logan’s life. Logan could have given up gum chewing then… but he’d gotten kind of addicted. And what if someone broke the record and he lost his pa’s respect? So he kept chewing, and hadn’t stopped since.

And he was happy. Yeah… he was happy.

“Virgil! Virgil!”

Virgil Teevee’s eyes did not leave the TV. He didn’t even hear the voice calling his name to be fair - he had a headset on, his ears filled with the noises from the game he was playing as well as the voices of the people he was playing online with.

“Shoot, I’m out of ammo…” he mumbled as his character pressed his trigger to no avail. “Can you guys cover me while I try to find more ammo?”

“Sure,” one of the guys he was playing with - Andy - replied. “Also, here. Not much ammo left in it, but it should last until you find more.” Andy’s character dropped a handgun in front of Virgil’s.

“Thanks.”

“VIRGIL!!!”

This time, Virgil heard. He pulled off his headset, before calling, “What?!”

His mother’s voice called back. “We have to get going, come on!”

Virgil immediately paled. “Um… go where…?”

His mother, Linda Teevee came in, pulling on a cardigan. “We have that meeting with your teacher, remember? I reminded you this morning.”

Virgil felt like he was going to be sick. He knew his grades had been dropping. He knew he hadn’t done 90% of the homework assignments that he had been set so far this year. He knew he barely paid attention in class, just sitting in terror that he’d be called on to answer a question. This was going to be the worst meeting with the teacher of his life.

He needed to prepare.

He left the game, turning off the TV, before running upstairs to his room. He pulled on his sneakers first, before he grabbed his largest pair of soundproof headphones, as well as his phone and Nintendo Switch. He plugged the headphones into his phone, started playing music, and turned up the volume. He slipped a game cartridge into the Switch, turning it on, and starting to play. He left his room, heading downstairs, not lifting his eyes from the console in his hands.

This was his plan. This was how he was going to get through this whole evening. Just ignore everything and bury himself in Mario Kart and Animal Crossing and the other games he had for his Switch.

It had worked before, and would likely work again.

Linda didn’t bat an eye as she saw Virgil come in head down, glued to the screen. Over the years, she had gotten used to his apparent gaming addiction. If anything, she encouraged it. His games kept him out of trouble.

Linda remembered when Virgil was younger… He was such a handful! When he was in kindergarten, she felt like she was called in every other day because Virgil had a screaming match that led to him being sick. Then, when he started elementary school, she kept having to come in because Virgil passed out in lesson, apparently due to getting extremely panicked when called on, leading to him hyperventilating and being unable to breathe.

But then he started getting into video games. Suddenly, he was calmer, much more reserved, and kept out of trouble. She didn’t have to come running to pick him up from school on a regular basis anymore.

So, she got him the consoles and games he wanted, and left him to his own devices. She was happy, her son was happy. It was good all around.

“Come on, then, lets go,” she said despite knowing full well Virgil couldn’t hear her. She left the house, Virgil trailing behind. They climbed into the car, before heading off.

Linda didn’t bother to try and start a conversation with her son as they drove up to the school. She knew by now that he always kept his music up so loud he couldn’t hear anyone.

And she was right. To Virgil, the journey up to school, the meeting with his teacher, and the journey home all blended together. Whatever happened during the meeting, Virgil knew it couldn’t be good, so he purposefully stayed ignorant. When they got home, he wordlessly went up to his room before his mom could try and question him about what was said by his teacher. He turned off his Switch, before getting out his laptop. On it, he returned to the game he had been playing before he left the house.

“Hey, Verge, where’d you go?” Andy’s voice spoke as Virgil turned his mic back on.

“Had some stuff. Doesn’t matter, I’m back now. What’d I miss?”

“Missy choked on his Duke chocolate bar after his brother scared him.”

Virgil chuckled. “Missy, you need to get Pranks under control…”

Missy mumbled incoherently in annoyance, Virgil and Andy laughing.

Talking to his friends online was the best thing, Virgil thought. Even better than having real life friends. Real life friends judge you based on your appearance and popularity. Online, all that mattered was whether you were good enough at gaming, and if you were, boom, you're in a group who’ll invite you to play no matter what. They couldn’t see Virgil and what a mess he could be. All they knew about him was what he told them. And they liked what they knew of him.

And that was good enough for him.

To be continued

Feel free to ask if you would like to be tagged!

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thememcry · 4 years

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↳ @sweettifalockhart asked, “ Aerith and Tifa for that ship meme 8D ” ------ultimate ship meme! // accepting.

General:

How long will they last? - let’s step back and consider this for a moment. tifa and aerith have always been plagued with the ideal that they’re fighting over cloud. but maybe cloud was just standing in the way of a love that would transcend dimensions? anyway. i think tifa and aerith are endgame material. follow the pattern for the lord of the rings and show us where they’ll be in the future? living in aerith’s gorgeous house secluded in sector 5 with flowers, tended by all the kids they adopted, while they hold hands on the porch and reminisce about their adventuring days.

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - their chemistry is immediate. it’s obvious that they have a connection from the moment they actually speak to one-another. i think it’s a quick one. you get these girls together and they just feed affection and positive vibes off of each other. feelings definitely form fast.

How was their first kiss? - soft. soft because both girls are bad bitches in their own right, but they’re seeing and dealing with hard things and they deserve something completely gentle and sweet to counter-balance the literal nightmare fuel in their lives.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - aerith.

Who is the best man/men? - cloud.

Who is the bride’s maid(s)? - jessie or marlene.

Who did the most planning? - it was an equal effort opportunity.

Who stressed the most? - probably tifa. i see aerith being very laid back about it.

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - outside of the usual suspects (lol the don), nobody was specifically barred from coming.

Sex:

Who is on top? - they switch. it depends on the mood and the feel of the moment.

Who is the one to instigate things? - aerith, initially. after that, whoever’s in the mood proper.

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - again, this varies. sometimes you just need a quickie to shirk the stress. sometimes you want to light some candles, spread some flower petals, and make a night of it. they’re very in tune with each other and which end of that pendulum they’re swaying.

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - absolutely.

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - they adopt kids like an old widow adopts cats, though.

How many children will they adopt? - see above.

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - they share! but if tifa is working, aerith will take over the duty primarily, no questions asked.

Who is the stricter parent? - honestly??? i feel like aerith.

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - both. but they also both kind of ... influence ... it...

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - both!

Who is the more loved parent? - literally both.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings? - it’s a joint effort babEY

Who cried the most at graduation? - ugh aerith.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - tifa lmfao.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - aerith, if only because tifa is working :3

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - i imagine they’re both pretty laid back about it.

Who does the grocery shopping? - mostly aerith, but tifa comes along when she’s not busy.

How often do they bake desserts? - their house smells like flowers and sweets, thanks.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - an even balance.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - it’s a switch effort. they try to surprise each other, or if one is more stressed than the other it becomes a cheer-up effort.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - aerith. ms let’s go on an adventure.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - neither. they’re both pretty kitchen savvy.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - i imagine they’re both pretty tidy people. so it’s not something that needs a set list or time to do it. just a clean as you mess effort.

Who is really against chores? - neither.

Who cleans up after the pets? - both.

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - neither lmao.

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - i feel like? tifa does.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - tifa lmfao. it’s probably a tip from the bar, too, that fell out of her pocket ioshdf

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - tifa, because she has a lot of hair, y’feel?

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - both. it’s a nice excuse to go out together.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - every damn holiday. both. instigated by aerith.

What are their goals for the relationship? - to be those old women holding hands on the porch, watching their grandbabies tend the flowers.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - tifa. poor thing works night shifts.

Who plays the most pranks? - a e r i t h.

#❀ ﹙ answered ﹚ « tell me a secret and i'll keep it forever »#sweettifalockhart #❀ ﹙ tifa ﹚ « fists woven with flowers »

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pkmnsdarkqueen · 5 years

Text

Character Sheet

CHARACTER SHEET

Basics

Full name: Karen Mirami Nickname(s): K, K-Bug (only used by a few), Kare-bear (She HATES this one) Title(s): Elite Gender: Female Height: 5′6 Age: 30-35 Zodiac: Scorpio Spoken languages: Johtanese, unovan,

Physical characteristics

Hair color: Sky blue sometimes gray depending on lighting Eye color: crystal faint blue Skin tone: almost white pale Body type: Slender but toned, hides muscles Voice: Mela Lee (the person that voices her in pokemon masters, SHE FINALLY HAS A VOICE) Dominant hand: Right Posture: Shoulders back with her head raised proudly, she stands taller and stiffer when uncomfortable Scars: 2 overlapped ‘M’s on the back of her neck, small cuts and scraps on her hands from fights, a few faded lashes on the back of her thighs, bullet wound near right hip, surgery scar on other side from having an ovary removed. Tattoos: Over the surgery scar she has a quarter sized dark symbol Birthmarks: None Most noticeable feature(s): Her eyes are strikingly bright, and if someone’s observant enough they’ll notice when she first meets someone she watches every movement they’re making.

Childhood

Place of birth: Azelea Town, Johto Hometown: Azelea Town, Johto Birth weight/height: 8 ouches, average really. First words: Drake Siblings: None biologically. “Adopted” Blue (Somewhat awkward relation), Silver (Has adopted him as a nephew), Sham (No contact with), and Carl (No contact with). Parents: Yua-Mother (Deceased). Adgar-Father (Alive). Makoto-Step Mother (Alive) Parental involvement: Mother framed father for crime separating him from Karen when the child was 3. He did give her the eevee called ‘Drake.” However the home wasn’t a good one and Karen ran away at 9 cutting Yua from having any more involvement. She reconnected with her father finding out he was a wonderful person at the age of 25. Children: None

Adult life

Occupation: Elite Four Member, Secretly Co-Runs a bar. Current residence: The Johto League Building Close friends: Will @psychic-master-will, Lance @dragoncaper, Bruno @courtofpokemusesstuff, Koga, Silver @rivaltrainersilver, Steven @sterlingsilverchampion, Mina @eclecticfaerie. Good Friends: Diantha @diamontha Relationship status: Single as default, dating @eclecticfaerie, crushing on @dragoncaper in one verse, crushing on @sterlingsilverchampion in another, complicated with @executive-geneticist in a different one. Working on ship with @hardboiledhandsome in Queen!Verse. Financial status: Wealthy though she saves most all her earnings. Criminal record: Has removed just about any and all records of her criminal past despite having a hefty amount. She has committed fraud, theft on small and large scales, illegal distribution of substances, taking illegal substances, money laundering, kidnapping, assault, murder, and variations of these. Vices: Wrath, Doubt, Impatience

Sex & romance

Sexual orientation: Bisexual Preferred emotional role: Submissive | Dominant | Switch Preferred sexual role: Submissive | Dominant | Switch (Always starts nervous and has to work up to anything new, only limit is no collar of any kind). Libido: Due to fears about sex she generally has a low one, but the more comfortable she is with the person this will pick up. Turn ons: (For start of a relationship) Gentle touches, and kissing in bed. Asking her if she’s feeling up to it. Turn offs: Touching the back of her neck without permission. Grabbing the back of her neck. (In a new relationship) Trying to pull or carry her to the bedroom by surprise, she will panic, and likely you’ll be on the couch for a week with no sex at all for a month. Love language: Words of encouragement, time, laughter. Relationship tendencies: Very awkward in the start of a relationship, and wary to touch the other person or have them touch her. She also has a habit of not telling the other something makes her uncomfortable immediately, she always wants to see if she’ll start to like something after a minute or two since her initial unease may just be her body falling into old habits of paranoia. Anything rough or aggressive during sexy times must be worked up to, and DO NOT surprise her with them. If the other person lacks any sort of criminal background she will try to avoid talking about her past for as long as humanly possible.

Miscellaneous

Character’s theme song(s): I want a girl with a short skirt and a long jacket. (it fits so well) Hobbies to pass time: Reading nonfiction about literally anything, playing with her pokemon, training pokemon, training herself, online shopping for cutesy things or binge watching hallmark movies. (She’ll deny doing the last two till she day she dies though) Mental illnesses: PTSD, anxiety-general paranoia on many things Physical illnesses: None though sometimes her joints act up due to the amount of stress put on them at a young age Left or right brained: Left Fears: Sexual assault, Anyone of her enemies attacking someone she loves, Being shamed and excluded by someone she trusts for her past, The Masked Man coming back, That her current life is all in her head and never actually existed, Having everything that she’s worked for ripped away one day Self-confidence level: She’s confident in her appearance and looks. She knows she can manipulate people to follow what she wants them to do if needed. However she doesn’t want to do that, and somedays feels like she has no right being where she is due to what she’s done. Often when feeling inadequate she masks this with aggression in some way. Vulnerabilities: Many but she hides having them incredibly well. This isn’t to say that she deals with them, but just bottles them. She’s insecure about her position in the league somedays, and she shames herself for her past often so when other’s do it only digs deeper.

Tagged by: Stolen by many folks Tagging: Anyone who knows how to cook macaroni

#headcannons #dash commentary

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silverfootstepswrites · 6 years

Text

Equinox: Winter [6]

“You’re 40?” Sakura repeated. Her mouth hung open as she stared at Ino.

Ino in all her ethereal beauty. With her silken hair and smooth face. She looked more fresh-faced than some of the 18-year-olds that Sakura knew.

“Forty? As in four times ten. Like ten presidential terms back to back?” Sakura asked. Ino nodded, a smug smile curling her lips. She pretended to check her nails as she leaned against the table.

“How old does my dad look?” Ino then asked.

Ino’s father ran the florist shop next door. He was a soft-spoken man with one of those smiles that crinkled his eyes.

“Um… somewhere in his fifties?”

Ino threw her head back, positively cackling. She clutched her stomach. The sound of her laughs filled the air with the smell of sweet, fairy magic. Like someone was baking chocolate chip cookies in the oven.

“Try doubling that,” Ino corrected.

“You’re making fun of me, Ino,” Sakura complained. Ino reached across the table to grab Sakura’s hands.

“Swear on my left tit, he is,” Ino promised her. Sakura’s eyebrows rose.

“Why just the left one?”

“It’s the prettier one,” Ino sighed, glancing down at her chest. They burst into laughter, collapsing against the table. Tears sprang into Sakura’s eyes as her stomach clenched. She seriously began to wonder whether spending this much time with Ino would help her develop abs.

“Okay, why bring up age all of a sudden, Ino?” Sakura queried.

It was almost closing time at the cafe. Sakura often wondered why Ino stayed open so late, especially since it was such a small town. But it was nice to know that at least Ino would be up whenever she needed a late-night caffeine fix.

“My dad’s been saying lately how I’m not a child anymore,” Ino confessed. She yanked her purple apron over her head. One of the strings tangled around Ino’s right wing. Sakura reached over to free it.

“Thanks,” sighed Ino. She folded the apron into a neat little square. She left it in her lap. And then, sighing, she looked at Sakura.

“You know, I’d get married right away if you were a guy,” Ino suddenly told her.

Sakura laughed. “Ino, what?” She picked up the last macaron on the plate between them. It was raspberry with a chocolate ganache filling.

“You’re a good listener, you have a good job, and you’re smart. Plus, you like my cooking,” Ino recited, counting off on each finger as she went down the list. Sakura snorted. She pointed at Ino with the half-eaten macaron.

“Everyone likes your cooking, Ino,” Sakura pointed out.

“Charming, too,” Ino added to the list. Rolling her eyes, Sakura held out the macaron. She fed it to Ino before she wiped her fingers on a paper napkin. She crumpled it into a tiny ball in her fist.

“So your dad is nagging you about getting married, huh?” Sakura asked.

Ino leaned her elbow on the table. “Fairies normally have big families. But Mom died right after having me. I think my dad is lonely… which I get.”

Sakura nodded. She leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“I’m never getting married. It sounds like a nightmare,” Sakura remarked. Ino snickered.

“Aw, come on, Sakura. You’re just saying that because you’re young. You’ll want to settle down someday,” Ino insisted, elbowing her. And then Ino’s smile faded.

“Whoa. Those were some weird vibes I just got from you. What’d I say?” she demanded.

Sakura didn’t look at her. She stared out the window. There was a streetlight across the street. She had parked her red sedan right under it.

A car drove past. The headlights cut white paths on the wet asphalt.

“Marriage and sirens is like oil and water. They don’t mix well,” was all Sakura said.

There was another pause. The song playing over the speakers faded out, waiting to transition into the next track.

“Sorry. Guess marriage is sort of an icky subject for you, huh?” Ino said.

“Yeah.”

“Well, now I know. Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

Sakura ran into Itachi at a holiday party. Which, on one hand was surprising, but also wasn’t. She wasn’t sure which famous designer or singer was hosting the event. All she had heard was that there would be champagne tower and she had decided to show her face.

She felt someone touch her elbow in the crowd. When she turned, so did Kakuzu. He wasn’t above twisting someone’s arm or throwing a drink.

“Hi,” Sakura greeted Itachi.

And he didn’t say anything in return. Couldn’t. He was speechless.

She was wearing a long sleeve bodycon dress. Nothing too revealing. Certainly not in comparison to the other people at this party. But the way her face glowed in the club’s flashing lights was breathtaking.

Kakuzu’s hand slipped off Sakura’s waist.

“Hang on, Bunny. I’ll deal with him,” he muttered. But Sakura stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“It’s fine,” she assured him. When Kakuzu continued to scowl, Sakura gave him a playful shove. “Go. I’ll catch up with you guys in a bit.” She watched him head up the stairs before she turned back to Itachi. She leaned against the railing, smiling at him.

“You okay there, Casanova? One too many drinks?” she asked.

Itachi stared up into her face for a while longer before he uttered, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she said in return, her smile widening.

She reached out to touch the sleeve of Itachi’s jacket. His chin tilted down as he watched her hand.

“Looking sharp. Do you wanna come upstairs? We have a table,” Sakura offered. She pointed up to the second floor.

Itachi’s brain seemed to have caught up to the rest of him. Because his expression began to relax a little. He gestured with his glass to a booth on the other side of the room.

“Sorry. I’m here to schmooze. Especially since we’re moving ahead with the project with… Killer Bee,” Itachi explained. And then his face changed a little.

“…Are you seriously alright with me going ahead with that? I still feel weird about letting him just use your song,” Itachi then asked. Sakura nodded. She leaned in closer so that she wouldn’t have to yell over the music and all the other people.

“It’s fine. I’m not a really vindictive person,” she assured him. Itachi smiled a little.

“Me too. I suck at holding grudges,” he confided in her. They laughed.

Itachi eyed her empty champagne flute. “Well, let me buy you a drink. Maybe hanging out with you will make me look important,” he suggested. He held his hand out to Sakura. The top of his cross tattoo peeked out past the top of his sleeve. Sakura bit her tongue between her front teeth as she considered. She slipped her hand into Itachi’s.

“Sure,” she agreed.

Itachi wasn’t especially intimidating or bulky. He didn’t part a crowd with an evil eye like Kakuzu did. But he did a pretty good job of guiding her through the people. He linked his fingers between hers, glancing back every few seconds to check that she was okay.

When they got to the bar, he helped Sakura squeeze into an open spot. She pulled him into the space with her. They were smushed together, but she didn’t mind. Sakura made eye contact with the busy bartender who gave her a hurried nod as she rushed past. It took a couple minutes for the woman to finally get to her. She looked frazzled.

“Two White Gummy Bears, please,” Sakura told her. The woman looked relieved. Probably that Sakura hadn’t ordered another margarita or, worse, a mojito, which required a million steps. She pulled two clean glasses out and filled them with the expensive stuff. Sakura held out a bill, saying, “No change.”

“Hey. Thanks,” the bartender replied. And then she hurried off to serve the next customer.

Itachi eyed the clear drink. Sakura snickered at him as she grabbed a glass. Itachi had no choice but to take the other one.

“Why does this smell like an actual gummy bear?” he asked.

“Come on,” Sakura urged, slapping his chest twice. She held her glass out, waiting until he clinked his drink against hers. Sakura tossed her drink back, grinning as she held her empty glass up. Itachi copied her. His eyes popped wide open. He had half-expected it to taste like a candle. It was delicious. She laughed at him.

“For courage. I’ve never had a bad night after one of these,” Sakura told him.

“And it’s less embarrassing than ordering a Slippery Nipple. Or a Screaming Orgasm,” she added. Itachi burst into laughter. And then a thought occurred to him.

“I thought I was supposed to be buying you a drink,” he yelled over the music. She leaned in closer to him.

“Like I said. For courage. Go schmooze it up, Romeo,” Sakura told him. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and slipped away before he could react.

The following morning (about eight hours and six drinks later) Sakura woke with a killer hangover on the sofa in Temari’s apartment. She spent the day recovering, because, unfortunately, she had another party to attend that evening.

The holidays were the worst because it required the most socializing. People were sensitive and got offended when she chose to attend certain events and not theirs. Madara helped her get out some parties with plausible excuses. For his Christmas present, she got him a set of expensive crystal glasses for his bar cart.

“Because you’re my angel,” she told him. Madara smirked.

But by the time the winter solstice rolled around, Sakura put her foot down.

“Either buy me a new liver or cover for me,” Sakura demanded.

And so she drove down to Old Pines for the first time in nearly a week. The back of her car was crowded with all the various party favors and presents she had received during the craziness. She was always struck by how easily celebrities spent their money. She had once received five iPads during the holidays as party favors.

As Sakura pulled off the highway, she switched on the high beams. The narrow forest path was much more familiar to her now. She even knew how to swerve to avoid a pothole halfway down the road. As she neared Old Pines, she let out a sigh of relief. She wanted nothing more than a hot shower and then to crawl into her bed.

She switched back to her regular headlights when she entered the town. The radio played low as she turned the steering wheel. The streetlights were on already. But they were almost unnecessary because the base of each light was wrapped with twinkling string lights. The lights were also draped across most of the buildings and houses. They all blinked at different rates, in blues, and reds, and golds, like winks rippling up and down the streets. And as Sakura cracked the window she could smell the fairy magic in the air. Like the fragrance of bread baking in an oven, only spread all throughout the town.

Even though she wasn’t particularly hungry or thirsty, Sakura stopped by Ino’s cafe. But Ino wasn’t inside standing by the counter. She stood outside, garlands of evergreen held up in her hands. Her dad sat on a ladder beside her.

“Hey, Ino!” Sakura called as she got out of her car.

“Oh! Hi! Hold on a sec!” Ino yelled back. Sakura checked both ways before she ran across the street. She grabbed the other end of the garland that was dragging on the ground. She handed it to Inoichi, who smiled down at her.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. Of course,” she replied.

Sakura helped them hang the garlands on the front window. Ino wrapped string lights around the garland while her dad hung a huge wreath made of holly on the door.

“Solstice is coming, huh?” Sakura remarked. She and Ino took a step back to survey their work. Ino put her arm around Sakura’s shoulders as she nodded. And then her nose wrinkled as she looked at Sakura.

“You seem exhausted. Come inside. I’ve got a blueberry tart with your name on it,” Ino then urged her.

Over the next several days, Old Pines was busy preparing for the winter solstice. They chopped down a tree and placed it in the middle of town. Everyone gathered together to help decorate. Ino was there, distributing cups of warm cider while Tsunade regaled the children with the stories that explained their traditions. Kiba was one of the people helping to erect the tree. He spared her a moment to wave at her, but she didn’t want to bug him.

Sakura jumped a little when a wet nose touched her hand. A smoky, black dog sat beside her. She rubbed her hand over his head once. And then his form shifted, growing taller and taller. Kakashi stood there instead. He handed her a gold ornament. A few bits of glitter clung to her fingertips as she accepted it.

“Hey, stranger,” Kakashi greeted her.

“Hey yourself,” she answered.

They stood side by side. Watching the busy scene. One of the pups threw his head back and howled. Hana whacked the back of his head.

“Knock it off. It’s not even a full moon yet,” she scolded as his cousins snickered at him.

“No, you can’t have a yuletide bonfire in the woods. Are you crazy?” Tenten retorted in response to someone’s question.

Someone began belting out a song in a low voice. He trailed off as he forgot the rest of the lyrics. Laughter and applause rose in response to his valiant efforts.

Sakura leaned against Kakashi a little.

“Are you cold?” he asked her.

“Mm-mm,” Sakura replied, shaking her head.

Kakashi’s arm shifted anyway. She heard him unzip his jacket. And then pulled her so that her back pressed against him. Grabbing either side of his jacket, he wrapped that around her too. Sakura giggled.

“What’re your plans for the solstice, Sheriff?” asked Sakura. They watched as the butcher and his son attempted to untangle a length of string lights.

“Throw the yule log on the fire. Eat steak with the dogs. Nothing fancy,” Kakashi replied. He rested his chin on top of her head.

“Not fancy sounds amazing,” sighed Sakura. She felt like she had had a lifetime’s worth of champagne fountains and gold leaf cocktails. Kakashi chuckled. It tickled against her spine.

“Well, you’re welcome to join us. I’m sure the dogs won’t mind,” he told her.

“What’re you talking about? We’re all going to Sakura’s, Sheriff,” Ino suddenly said as she walked past them to get a fresh carafe of cider.

Kakashi twisted around to look at Ino. That made Sakura swivel too. Which was fine by her.

“Huh?” Sakura and Kakashi said in unison.

“You’re new in town, Sakura. Your house is in the need of the most yuletide blessings,” scolded Ino.

“That’s true. A yuletide celebration invites good luck into your house for the whole year. I’m in,” Tenten agreed.

“Kiba, you can come if you bring your mom’s roast beef!” Ino called.

“What? I can’t hear you!” shouted Kiba in return.

“Cool. It’s decided,” Ino said, turning to Sakura with a wink.

On the day of the winter solstice, Ino showed up to Sakura’s house. She carried a huge cardboard box filled with greenery. Tenten trailed behind her with a second box. And then Hana entered carrying paper bags bursting with food.

They spent the morning decorating Sakura’s house between sips of the town’s best coffee. Ino had even packed freshly-baked muffins sprinkled with vanilla sugar. They hung mistletoe above the door to invite in good fortune and positive emotions. They draped holly and garlands of evergreen from the windows and bannisters. Ino hung a huge wreath interwoven with ivy and holly from the front door. The house was bustling with voices and laughter. It felt a little strange, but Sakura didn’t hate it.

The men began to trickle in throughout the afternoon. Kiba showed up first, bearing a foil-covered pan that held his mother’s famous roast beef. He grabbed Sakura in a hug from behind, making her yelp. Sakura laughed even as she slapped his arm several times.

“You jerk! You scared the shit out of me!” she scolded. Kiba cackled as he pretended to wince under her weak blows. He let out an actual yelp of pain as Hana smacked him with a tree branch.

“Stop flirting and go bring in some more firewood,” Hana ordered.

Kakashi came a little later with plenty of his mulled apple cider. Sakura poked her head out of the house when she heard his car. He waved as he got out of his cruiser. And then he opened the back door. A torrent of dogs poured out of the backseat. At the head of the pack was a tan dog with a red bandana tied around him. Close on his heels was a little pug that huffed and puffed as he struggled to keep up.

Sakura knelt on the gravel, her arms spread wide. Biscuit pounced on her, tail vibrating furiously as he whined and pawed at her. The rest of the dogs arrived and barreled her over. Flat on her back, Sakura giggled as the dogs struggled to receive the most pats and hugs.

The car door shut. Kakashi let out a high-pitched whistle. The dogs parted. Pakkun stubbornly continued licking Sakura’s hand. Bull chomped down on the back of Pakkun’s collar to drag him out of the way. Sighing, Kakashi offered his hand to Sakura. He pulled her to his feet.

“The dogs are… really happy to see you,” was all Kakashi could say.

“Just the dogs?” Sakura teased. Kakashi’s smile didn’t disappear. But it shifted a little. Placing his hand on the back of her head, he pulled her face closer so that he could kiss her forehead.

“I’m one of the dogs too,” he reminded her. He gave another kiss to the top of her head before he headed into the house. When he let out a sharp whistle, the dogs followed after him. Only Biscuit lingered. He looked from his retreating brothers to Sakura. His paws shuffling around. Laughing, Sakura scratched between Biscuit’s ears.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming,” she assured him.

Sakura was a little surprised by how well Kakashi’s dogs got along with Kiba. Bull, in particular, seemed interested in Kiba, who was happy to roughhouse with the bulldog for a bit. He didn’t even complain as Bull drooled on his hand.

When Kiba and Kakashi saw each other, there was a tense moment. Sakura wondered if they would be stupid and do the whole glaring and sniffing routine. Instead, Kiba nodded at Kakashi. Kakashi clapped him on the shoulder before he headed into the kitchen. Sakura didn’t really understand the shift in their dynamic. She was just thankful that it wouldn’t be awkward.

Ino began working her magic in the kitchen. She reheated the roast beef in the oven while Kakashi warmed his cider on the stove. She asked him about his recipe, which Kakashi was happy to explain. Hana joined them to help Ino chop up the ingredients she had brought for a salad.

When someone knocked on the door, everyone looked perplexed. Except for Sakura who went to let the last guest in.

“Sorry I’m so late. Traffic was crazy,” Itachi greeted her as he stepped inside. He handed Sakura a bottle of wine. It was expensive brand. He carried another bottle under his arm.

Kiba and Hana exchanged a look. Kakashi and Ino exchanged a look too. And then Kakashi and Kiba glanced at each other. They said nothing. Kakashi went on stirring the cider. Kiba continued pairing forks and knives together.

Dinner was noisy, not just because of the dogs. They crammed into the kitchen, pulling out a couple folding chairs to squeeze everyone in. Tenten uncorked the wine Itachi had brought, pouring the first generous glass for Sakura. Pakkun wandered over a few times to give his best pleading eyes.

“I fed him before we got here. Don’t let him fool you,” Kakashi warned.

Sakura still snuck him a tiny bit of roast beef before she shooed him away.

Sakura’s worries about it being an awkward night were for nothing. There was plenty to laugh about. Especially because they started off by recounting how Sakura had called Itachi a dildo. Tenten and Hana cackled as Itachi and Sakura took turns explaining their sides of the story. And by the end of it, Sakura was laughing the hardest.

Everyone had seconds and then thirds of dinner. The rosemary bread Ino had brought disappeared without a single crumb left. And the huge hunk of roast beef was gone too.

Patting their overly-full stomachs, they slowly got to their feet to help clear the table. And then they moved to the living room, popping open more wine and a couple beers. Kiba tossed another log into the fire, poking around to make sure everything was distributed properly.

Hana settled on one end of the sofa. Kiba sat next to her. Itachi sat to his left.

Sakura was happy to plop down on the rug. Biscuit wandered over to her. He didn’t seem to need anything in particular. He just turned around a few times before he curled up on the rug, pressed against her thigh. The rest of the dogs were piled up in the kitchen, snoozing on the warm path of floor in front of the fridge. The exception was Shiba, who laid in front of the front door, like a snoring doormat.

“Sakura’s like the dog whisperer. These kids love her so much,” Hana remarked.

“It’s good to be popular,” replied Sakura. They chuckled.

Ino joined them, one of Sakura’s trays laden with desserts. And even as they all complained that they were too full, they all picked at the fruits and the cookies dusted with powdered sugar. Itachi, who hadn’t eaten much during dinner, devoured handfuls of pomegranate seeds.

Kakashi was last. He handed everyone mugs of warm cider. He also gave Sakura the wine she had forgotten at the dinner table. She raised it to him.

“My hero,” she declared. Kakashi smiled before he sat near the fireplace. He stretched his arms over his head.

“Well. Guess we don’t have to eat until next winter,” he declared. He rubbed his stomach.

“Seriously. Time to hibernate,” sighed Ino. She leaned back on her hands.

There was a buzz from somewhere near them. But it was muffled. Hana felt the vibration near her foot. When she shifted it, she found that it was Sakura’s phone.

“Oh sorry. I forgot that was there,” Sakura apologized. Kiba picked it up. He held it out to her. Sakura cringed as she tried to reach forward. She gave up, rubbing her stomach.

“I’m too full. Could you read it to me, Kiba?” she requested instead.

Kiba unlocked her phone. The text message popped up right away.

“Fuck you, Bunny.”

“What?” Ino demanded. “Who’s that from? Who would say that to Sakura?” She seemed livid that someone would dare to curse at Sakura. But Sakura already had a good idea who it was.

“That’s what the text says. ‘Fuck you, Bunny’. Oh hold on. He’s typing,” Kiba read.

“Is his name just a bunch of middle finger emojis and puking faces?” Sakura inquired.

“Yeah. Wait. He said, ‘They dropped my ad campaign. It’s all over the news’,” Kiba recited in a flat voice. Itachi leaned over to read over his shoulder. And then he pulled his phone out. He typed out a few words and began scrolling through the results. Ino looked at her phone too.

“Sounds serious. You have any idea what he’s talking about?” Hana mused.

“Wait. Does this have to do with…?” Kakashi trailed off, too polite to point at Itachi. Kiba pointed at Itachi anyway.

“That asshole that stole Sakura’s song,” Kiba supplied.

Ino held up her phone. The article on screen said, ‘Killer Bee Exposed: Plagiarism. Loses Sponsorships.”

“It’s probably just rumors. All that tabloid news is fake anyway,” Tenten scoffed. Ino shook her head as she continued scrolling. She pulled up several more articles with similar titles.

“No… I got an email from my bosses. We dropped him,” Itachi declared.

“What?” Sakura demanded.

“In light of the serious allegations against Killer Bee, we have decided to cease production of the current project. This does not reflect the values and vision of our company. We cannot, in good faith, support an artist that poses the hard work of others as his own,” Itachi read.

“I thought you just told him to keep it. That you wouldn’t do anything,” Itachi then said, looking up at Sakura.

“I’m confused,” Kiba declared, rubbing his temple. He leaned forward a little further this time. He tossed Sakura her phone. She just barely managed to catch it between her fingertips.

“Me too,” Sakura said.

She checked her emails. There were several messages. That was normal. But in particular, an email from one sender caught her eye. The subject read, “Taken care of”. She pressed on it.

I’m back from Spain. We should talk. I’ll come to you.

P.S. I told you that I’ve always got your back.

Sakura gulped down what was left in her wine glass. She hissed out a long sigh between her teeth.

“Of course,” she muttered, getting to her feet. She headed to the kitchen.

‘Which one of you assholes, snitched?’ she texted the group chat. She filled her wine glass as she waited.

There was a pause. A few bubbles popped up and then faded.

‘My bad. He scares me,’ replied Hidan.

‘You suck,’ Sakura replied.

‘Go die,’ Kakuzu agreed.

‘Hidan, u fuck,’ Temari contributed.

Sakura turned to face the people sitting in her living room. They were all staring at her. Kakashi was already on his feet. Kiba saw this and got to his feet too.

“What’s wrong?” Kiba asked.

Sakura found Itachi. Stared directly into his eyes as she took a long sip of wine. As she lowered her glass, she pointed at him.

“Remember how I said you don’t ever want to meet a real siren?” she asked him. Itachi nodded.

“Well… Merry Christmas,” Sakura declared.

Winter [end]

#equinox #equinox: winter #writing #multisaku #kakasaku #itasaku #kibasaku

158 notes · View notes

yoongi-boongi · 6 years

Text

feelings aren’t like cupcakes | myg

♡ pairing: yoongi x reader

♡ genre: FLUFF

♡ warnings: tiny sex reference?, slight drinking, a bad joke, maybe the smallest pinch of angst?

♡ word count: 3,007

♡ notes: this is my first fic so be nice i guess. shout-out to @minnsvga for supporting me and helping me throughout this entire thing

It was early into a Friday evening and the cafe had quieted down exponentially compared to the morning hustle. You had finally gotten your cafe open. You had been saving up ever since you were a child, always dreaming to have a small place of your own. It took a bit to transform it into the way it was now, seeing as it used to be a bar. You thought of your cafe as a second home. The cafe was better than you could have ever imagined with bookshelves lining two walls, fairy lights twinkling across the ceiling, and refurbished furniture scattered into groups across the hardwood floors.

You already sent your employees home for the night. Not many people flocked to your cafe this late and hell, most of the time you closed early because of the lack of people and the fact you just wanted to get some sleep. You had a few customers that came around at night, mostly consisting of college kids who wanted a quiet place that isn't crowded. But tonight it’s different seeing as no customers were around tonight.

You were busy in the kitchen making another batch of red velvet cupcakes when you heard the bell ring from the door. You quickly popped the cookie dough into the fridge and shuffled your way to the front counter, only to be greeted with an annoyed looking man in a suit. He had soft yet striking features and dark eyes that bore into your soul. You realized you haven’t said anything to him yet and promptly put a smile on your face.

“Welcome to Y/N’s Cafe & Bakery! Is there any way I can help you?” The attractive man squinted at your cheerful attitude towards him before speaking.

“Yeah… Can you tell me where the hell the bar went?”

Of course… People come in all the time asking where the bar went and you were kinda getting sick of having to tell the story of how the bar closed.

“Look… Long story short, the bar closed and my cafe opened.” You sighed out, dropping the upbeat look from your face. You can see the irritation growing on his as the seconds pass. You could almost cut the tension coming from the man with a butter knife. It was thick but not like a brick, ya know?

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He growls out of frustration, “My favorite bar closes and that’s all you can give me?”

“Yup. Now, I don’t like assholes in my cafe. Have a cupcake.” You grab a random cupcake from the display on the counter and hand it to him before he can protest. He switches back and forth looking at the cupcake and looking at you like you grew a second head. “Sir, I didn’t poison the damn thing so eat it and we can have an actual conversation. Maybe if you are nice I can give you some of the whiskey I keep in the back.” He stares a bit more before biting into the cupcake, eyes widening at the taste. You smile at the sight before heading back into the kitchen.

You clean up the kitchen and headed back out into the main seating area of the cafe with the previously mentioned whiskey bottle. You looked around noticing the only people in the cafe are you and the unnamed and very attractive man. The more you look at him the more you notice. You see his black hair and imagine how soft it would feel in your hands. You see the rings that adorn his fingers and note that he took his suit jacket off.

“Are you going to keep checking me out or are you going to actually say something to me?” The man’s bold words break your chain of thoughts bringing along a deep blush that coats your cheeks. You stutter out a half-assed apology as he smirks. “So this is your place?”

“Uh.. yeah. Got it opened about a month back.. I assume that you haven’t been able to come to the old bar in a while? Seeing as you didn’t know that this is now a cafe?” You answer as you turn the open sign to closed and walk towards where he is sitting.

“You can say that…” He mumbles back, looking at his phone that appeared to be blowing up with text messages. “I haven’t been able to come get a drink because of everything going on my life with work and shit.” You hum in acknowledgement before taking the seat across him at the small table.

“You seem to be better after the cupcake.” You grin at him and he lets out a snort. “So can I get your name before I share my alcohol with you? I’m sure you can tell what mine is based off of the big signs.”

“Min Yoongi, and yes I can tell what your name is Y/N.”

“I don’t have any glasses or anything so I hope you can bear drinking straight from the bottle.” Yoongi only nods as you open the bottle and take a sip. You cough at the taste and hand the bottle to him. “So, Yoongi… tell me about yourself.”

He looks at you after his swig. He stares at your face for a moment, thinking. “I don’t think you have unlocked my Tragic Backstory™ quite yet…” He watches with a small smirk as you laugh at his joke.

“Okay… seems reasonable enough. Then… Tell me how you ended up here, in my little paradise on a Friday evening.” You counter with. He lets out a deep sigh before speaking.

“Well, Y/N” He starts, putting heavy emphasis on your name, “I had a somewhat of a terrible day at my shitty job so I left and ended up here only to find cupcakes instead of copious amounts of alcohol like I wanted.”

“Hey! I got you some! And my cupcakes are delicious!” You scoff back. Yoongi only smirks as you stick your tongue out at him. The tension that was in the air during the previous completely gone and exchanged for a playful and comfortable one.

“You might not want to do that.”

“And why is that?” You retort back quickly.

“You don’t know what I’m like.” He says back just as quick as you did.

“Oh, on the contrary! I know more about you than you know about me. So HA!” He can only shake his head, trying not to smile at the statement.

“Speaking of which, tell me about you. How did you end up owning a cafe/bakery place?” Yoongi questioned with actual curiosity.

“Well…. Ever since I was young I’ve always liked baking so I decided that I was going to own a cafe. So instead of going to college like my parents insist, I’m putting all of my money and effort into this place. I’d say I’m doing a pretty good job!”

A moment of silence followed. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one though, It was more of a pleasant, understanding kind of vibe.

You begin to ramble to fill the emptiness. “Hey... since you are probably in some deep shit with your boss why don’t I deliver some cupcakes or donuts to try to help and smooth it over? Ya know, so you don’t get fired or something. Being fired is not very pretty on your resume.”

“I have no clue… I should probably read the messages I’m getting to see if I’m not already. But it wouldn’t matter too much seeing as I fucking hate it there…”

“Do you wanna tell me why or do I have to give you some more whiskey first?” You joke.

“I’d honestly prefer the whiskey.” He retorts with a deadpan look.

“OOF, okay, but I seriously think you should come around more often Yoongi. I’d love to get to know you more through cupcakes and maybe more whiskey. And trust me this isn’t the whiskey talking.” You answer back with a wide smile.

“I think I just might. Especially if you are offering me more cupcakes.”

The second time Yoongi showed up it was early in the morning and honestly he looked like shit. It was about seven in the morning and he came in wearing a light blue button-up rolled to his elbows. He walked grungledly to the counter.

“Good morning Yoongi. What can I get you?” You asked with a small smile.

“An iced americano. To go, please.” He muttered back. “He's clearly not a morning person.”

“Anything else? I heard the donuts are preeeetty good.” You added. He sighed before muttering out a “why not.” After being rung up and paying he headed out the door only then he looked down at his cup and found a little message.

“It was nice seeing you again - Y/N :)”

The fifth time he came to the shop was during lunch. You were about to go on break when he walked through the doors.

“Yoongi… I was about to go to lunch. Want to come get something with me?” You proposed. You could tell that he wasn’t expecting the offer by how he stared questionly.

“Fine, but i’m paying for it.” He insisted which only caused you to run up to him and argue that you were paying because you were the one who offered it. The two of you made it to your favorite sushi place and ended up splitting the bill because of how stubborn you were. Yoongi made you swear that next time you’ll let him pay.

The eighth time he came to the shop you spoke about aspirations and dreams. It took awhile for you to pry out of him but you got it eventually. Mainly through bribing him with some free donuts and cupcakes.

“I want…. To be a producer. Have my own studio that's not my damn apartment. Have my only worries being to be make music and write songs and shit.” He lets out hesitantly even after shoving a cupcake in his mouth.

“Oh! I can see it! But you probably need to have a side job in the beginning… so you have a solid income and stuff. If you hate working in that office or whatever you can work here! I can hire you and you can help me! You're not the biggest people person so you could probably help me bake in the bac-” You cut yourself off when Yoongi places his hands around yours.

“You ramble a lot.” Yoongi laughs out. You simply pouted back.

“I’m serious you know…” You mumble back as you adjust your position in the chair. Yoongi watching you from across the table with a gentle smile on his face, brown eyes shining with admiration.

“I’m sure you are…but thanks. I will consider it.”

It was around the tenth time Yoongi made his way to the cafe but no one could be sure, seeing as no one was counting. He got through the door before noticing that there was only one employee from what he could tell, who was in the process of flipping the sign from open to closed.

“Wait! You guys are closing early?” Yoongi practically growled.

“Huh? Oh, you're the guy that shows up all the time and talks with the boss!” She says with a slight smile and a point at Yoongi.

“Yeah its me… so why are you guys closing so soon? Normally you guys are open till 10?” He replies back with a forced smile.

“Oh yeah… The big boss lady had a date tonight or something and didn’t want us noobies to run the business by ourselves so late at night, or something…. But don’t worry! We will be open for normal times tomorrow!” The employee affirmed. Yoongi could only stare at her face. Searching it with his eyes for anyway for what she said to be a lie. “Um… sir? Are you alright?” She questioned after getting no response.

“Sorry….” He muttered back before looking at his reflection in a window of the shop. He and the employee stood as it started to rain. “How cliche…” Yoongi thought with a soft scoff.

“You really like her don’t you?” The employee spoke up once again, making Yoongi’s line of sight move from the window to her face. How was he supposed to answer her when he didn’t have an answer for himself? “Does she have any idea that you do?” Yoongi let out a sigh. “Man, how could you not say anything if you are so whipped?” She joked.

“I’ll help you out! I’ve always wanted to be a matchmaker! So what if I call her and say that there was an issue with something and it is extremely important that she gets here as soon as possible? After I make the call I’ll scram… If you want me to help and all.” She proposed.

“You… you would do all that for me?” Yoongi questioned in disbelief.

“Yup! But I can’t let you stay inside this place seeing as I technically still have to close up…” The employee stated with a apologetic smile. He nodded and looked out of the window to notice it was raining harder and the shop has no awning.

“Great…” he grumbled.

“Don’t worry! I heard that the restaurant that she's at isn’t too far away! I’d offer an umbrella but I don’t have one myself.” The employee tried to make light of the situation and pulled out her phone.

Your date was going pretty well, a little textbook you could say. The only reason you were on this damned date is because your friend begged you to start dating someone and she promised that this guy would be perfect for you. While he is a great person and has been nothing but great to you, you had someone else in your head the entire time.

“Do you wanna know the safest place during a zombie apocalypse?” You started maybe the twentieth joke of the night.

“Where?” He asked with a smile on his face.

“The living room.” You manage to get out before the two of you burst into laughing.

Your laughter got cut short though as your phone began to vibrate. You looked at who it was and figured it was pretty important seeing as you told Hana to only call you if something big or important happened.

“Sorry but I need to take this it. I’ll be back.” You apologized to your date as you made your way to the restroom. You were expecting the worse as you answered the phone.

“Hello?”

“Y/N!! I’m so glad you answered the first time I called! Look there is a problem back at base camp and I really need you to come help!” Hana quickly squeaked out.

“Wait, slow down! What happened?” You tried to interrogate.

“There isn’t enough time! Please just hurry back!” She rushed out before hanging up on you. You sighed out frustration before putting your phone back in your bag and heading back to your table. You explained the situation to your date and apologized for having to cut the date short. Soon enough you were in your car heading to your shop for the second time today.

Yoongi sat in the rain soaked as he waited for you to show up. He could only think of what the hell he was actually going to say. What could he say? “Hey, your employee made you panic for no damn reason just because I wanted to talk to you. Not to mention I have terrible timing?”

The time seemed to go in slow motion when a car finally pulled up in front of him. As the car door opened, an umbrella popped out and the sound of high heels clicking filled his ears over the sound of the rain.

“Yoongi?” You questioned as you stood in front of the sopping wet man. Yoongi finally looked up at you and opened his mouth but no words came out. He decided he should at least stand up and his jacket let out a loud squelch as he did. You tried to cover you giggle and failed miserably. Yoongi began to laugh back and soon enough you two were standing in the rain laughing over nothing together.

“So….” Yoongi finally spoke. “This isn’t really how imagined this going but eh…. Life is weird sometimes…” You watched as he looked you in the eyes.

“I mean I never expected to get called my employee to rush back to my shop only to find her nowhere in sight and you soaking wet from the rain. But yes, this life, I guess.” You teased back and Yoongi chuckled, a gummy smile forming.

“Yeah…. That's not really what I was talking about though… Look I’m just going to get this out there now. I have feelings for you. I don’t know exactly what they are but they are surely fucking there. You don’t have to have them back but now you know.” He rushed out all in one breath. You just continued to stare back as you processed everything. Yoongi was about to add on something but you started laughing.

You were laughing so hard that you tears almost started to roll down your face. He tried to question you but you stopped him before he could start by quickly pressing your lips to his. He held your face between his hands as he pressed back like if he didn’t you would slip away from him. The rain continued to pour on to the two of you but that didn’t matter now.

Almost too soon in Yoongi’s opinion, you pulled backed up and stared at him with a smile that was probably the biggest it had been in a while. He moved one hand back, the other holding on to the side of your face. Your hands on top of his, the closest you could get to holding his hands at the moment before you finally spoke.

“About time dumb ass.”

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empressxmachina · 5 years

Link

by Imperial-Radiance (that’s me)

1|1: Faux Pas, part 1, is also on Wattpad.

"All the shit we do, and this doesn't get any easier."

"It's only because no one does it like we do or... or, ugh, at all, really."

The Center of Colors, the most marveled museum of art in all of Oswana if not the entire world, was a fortress in its own right, and all attempts by a not-so-young maho madam to push open the one door inside it that led to its underground car park were to no avail. The age of the door was a blink in comparison to the building that housed it. Looking past that, it still was not used as proportionally often as originally designed due to 'more preferred' transit options for safety reasons. But, with the particular event taking place there – the biannual meeting of the Continental Couturiers' Council – and a certain, small minority quickly rising up its rankings, putting some oil on the door hinges would have been the easiest courtesy.

Yet, here this lady was, having to force all her might just from an unlocked but still stuck door, adding to the lengthy list of surprises of the night. But she wasn't alone in the struggle.

"Uh, Mel?" a concerned Lyanna expressed, quickly simmering down her tense self after seeing how roughly her best friend was fumbling with the push bar. "You good?"

"Come on! Really!?" Melanie continued to grunt, not allowing herself to give in so quickly, even if it possibly ruined her blazer in the process – not the best look at a fashion event. "What is this!?"

"Damn. If Miss 'Moore Gains, Moore Power' can't open the thing, it really must be tight," Lyanna claimed in jest. She, despite being in similar, unfortunately-formal-for-the-task fashion, joined Melanie's efforts at her side, groaning as she repeatedly rammed her upper arm into the surface like a linebacker. "Maybe, urgh... Lanky Ly can be... a little help."

Melanie was all for the assistance, especially given all the reasons she had to not expect it. But, getting it with a shaded humblebrag, even if jokingly, was not going to happen. A critical look was sent Lyanna's way in protest, and sassy yet complimentary projections soon were, too.

"'Lanky', my ass. How many ball sports... did you say you... played in school again? How many of them... weren't co-ed... before you joined? Which one of us... qualified for... for the... Superhero Circuit... over thirty... on accident!?"

It only took the first rebuttal for Lyanna to regret making her lighthearted comment at all. But, like the mature woman she was, she took it in stride with an apology.

"Okay, okay. I get it!" she stretched through more grouses of strain. "I'm sorry. You happy?" Melanie paused her own pushes for a second to shine a grin at her buddy that epitomized 'I told you so'. Her receiving a set of rolling eyes and a scoff back followed right after, paired with Lyanna taking her exertion efforts to the next level. "But," she resumed, feeling her shoulders start to slide out their sockets, "my athleticism... means nothing if... if it can't help us... get through... the fucking... DOOR!"

Giving in to all of the pressure, the bar lock finally began to budge. However, no one, especially not the designers of the door, ever figured for that much force, let alone by two, tired maho ladies, to be spread across the bar like that. They had much more strength than they realized, or the door was weaker than expected, and before they knew what they were doing, the door flew open out of their grasp, echoing with Lyanna's voice into the mostly empty garage as it slammed into the wall.

Inertia sent Lyanna and Melanie forward, unable to keep balance on their skinny, high heels. Melanie, closer to the hinges, managed to catch herself on a nearby parking barrier, but Lyanna found her stopping place not on the ground or on a structure but instead in the arms of an awaiting security guard.

"Got ya, ma'am," the uniform-donning young man assured with a slight strain in his voice upon catching her. "Are... Are you alright?"

Lyanna sneered at his brief struggle, knowing fully well that she wasn't that heavy until she realized it was not due to her at all, at least not completely. In the distance, the door to the office where all of the watching camera footage was housed was wide open with most screens showing the three of them right then. If he had been watching the ladies' struggles until not long ago and decided to help for himself, then he would've had to run to reach them in time. Looking at his tired but quickly recovering state, he probably did that, just slightly too late and switching to a catcher's role in the heat of the moment.

Getting over the drama of it all, Lyanna gave her savior some solace as she rose and composed herself. "Yes, thank you. I... I'm fine."

"Not as much as you, cutie pie," Melanie winked at the guard with her down-home charm, to which he returned a bashful gasp. "What's a handsome soul like yourself doing out on the town late on a weekend alone, guarding C-Cubed at CC, no less?"

"I, uh," the young lad had trouble finding the right words.

On one hand, getting a compliment was always nice, especially if both lighthearted and likely to result in an extra tip. On the other hand, if he egged it on too much, then it'd just be asking for a bunch of double-sided trouble for way too many reasons to count. Aware that he couldn't leave her hanging, he replied with something reasonable in between.

"I-I'm just working to pay for school, ma'am, getting what I can, whenever I can." He smoothed the wrinkles in his suit, hoping to worsen his seemingly bad first impression. "I'm not even a guard. I'm more like a concierge, though I can drive people around, too, so I don't even know if that's even the right term." He quickly recognized he was right on the cusp of rambling about his nondescript job position and soon reverted to a more robotic, reserved offer. "A-Anyway, shall I call you two a car?"

"You can do better than that," Lyanna surprisingly interjected, stretching her back with a backward, propped bend. "I'll call your bluff. Drive us home, then. The two of us aren't too much for you in this big city, are we?"

If Melanie's comment sent blood to the guy's face, then Lyanna's did the opposite, blanching it bright from assertive surprise. Though, knowing who they were and what they were known for, such responses were expected in the back of his mind. Nonetheless, he caught Lyanna's declaration of the challenge and accepted it.

"Let me, uh, just grab a key from the station," he stated, pointing back toward the office, "and we'll be on our way. Choose any one of the vehicles by the wall you like, and I'll meet you there."

Like a hummingbird, he zoomed away to grab the nectar of his choosing, leaving the two ladies to converse and corner a car... all the while cutting each other down.

"You were not just charming that child, were you?" Lyanna pressed, strutting over to her friend. "He's young enough to be either of our children, and I know you're not that crazy."

"Of course not, you dunce," Melanie defended, with an eye roll, offended being typecast from a simple false flirtation. "Like I'd court a kid to have a good time." She managed to get a chuckle out of her best friend as she wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her to the back of one of the vans. "I'm trying to make that young man into a mannequin. You don't think he'd be a good look for the new line?"

"It's less that and more 'You couldn't have asked more normally?'"

"What's more fitting than looking for fashion models at a meeting for fashion designers?"

"I don't know, giving out a business card and telling him to call you at a normal hour? Damn it!" For a second, Melanie thought that Lyanna was actually mad at her. But the pause just turned out to be a dramatic one, replaced by more giggles. "Damn you, innovative bitch."

Melanie soon joined into the laughing fit. "You know it. See? I'm always making money moves, even if people don't agree with my vision."

Her wording was too specific for it to not be related to and reignite the tensions acclimated over the duration of the meeting she had to hide behind glossy lips and gritting teeth. "We're back to talking about what we were before we found ourselves fighting the architecture, huh?"

"We do too much for too little reward, apparently. Is that what you said?"

"Not... exactly," Lyanna hissed, clicking every T with purpose, "but you're not wrong, either." Leaning back against the trunk, thankful for a siren not going off in the process, she looked up at the ceiling and processed her thoughts. Her memories of the evening.

Drinks. Hors d'oeuvres. Designs for two seasons from now. It wasn't much different than usual. Lyanna's peers had finally gotten used to how she ran her business after so many years of it 'not evolving' except in styles. But it was just tolerance rather than full-on acceptance, and the constant stares and murmurs that they seemed to throw in overtime toward her tonight garnered an equal reaction back: allowed but never wanted.

The worst part of it, aside from the blatant prejudice behind Lyanna's doings, was that they never considered why she does it. Seeing things from her and maybe Melanie's views would be more help than harm. Though, given how they got where they were, they'd forever be oblivious unless she made a scene.

While the two prim pals measured the parking deck to easily house multiple homes, it was barely worthy of an under-bed shoe organizer to the khadra: the larger, other halves opposite their maho selves with whom they shared the world. Well, their nation, at least. One couldn't be sure about the rest of the planet nowadays. Even so, everything Lyanna lived and worked for, no matter how high she rose, would forever be under their noses, perhaps even underfoot.

Simply thinking back to the dastardly door, once again, only made her more upset, remembering how it was basically a metal slab wedged within floor molding shadowed by a nearby stand. The Council could've paid someone to at least act like a security for smaller folk, but the fact that the Center kept their half of the deal was a little reassuring.

Probably one-twelfth of what her full pleasure banks could hold: the standard fraction.

"Sure, we get flooded in respect for our abilities," Lyanna commented, still gazing toward the above ground, "but it's just a cop-out. The collabs we do are never enough; they want more out of us. It's like they assume we have to give them everything not because they deserve it or because it's right but because they're fucking—"

"Ah, here we go," the young guard cut in, to Melanie's favor. Having known her bestie for two decades, she knew he had shown up right on time and prevented an imminent Lyanna explosion. Jiggling his keychain with a glowing smile as he unlocked the van's doors, sidewinding the looks of respective relief and heat diffusion on the ladies' faces, he was completely none the wiser. "We're ready for action. If you'd allow me..."

Continuing his act like a gentleman, he opened the doors for the two women, first Lyanna on the passenger's side of the backseat and then Melanie seated right behind him. Considering they thought they were simply in for a glorified taxi cab ride, they had quite the shock seeing how decked up the innards of the vehicle were. It wasn't a party bus or anything resembling a limo rented for a promenade, but the selection of fun-sized snacks, drinks, and reading material, on top of how comfy the seats and lighting were, was a sight to behold.

The ladies were greatly impressed all around, quickly sharing a look of wonder with each other, but the oblivious driver wouldn't be able to see that, focused only on the job at hand. Plus, the sight of Melanie on her phone and Lyanna already sipping on a tiny water bottle as she looked out her window gave no hint to it, whatsoever. He was happy to see them fully adjusted, totally bounced back from their tumbles and fumbles, and it irked him that he might break that calmness for the last necessities of his job.

"I do apologize for this, but I almost forgot," he said, looking in the rear-view mirror at them as he started the engine. "The Center of Colors has this policy where the drivers have to get crossed confirmations for—" His declaration faltered at the ladies' look of confusion at his jargon, thus needing clarification in common, much more comfortable language. "Basically, they want two forms of authorization for each passenger. Usually, a quick clip where you say your name or something like that should be fine. I know who you are, and I'm sure most others do, too, but it's the tradition. If you wouldn't mind...." He pressed a button on his controls and started recording, signaled by a light on his rear-view mirror and a mechanical bloopy noise. "...giving a quick roll call."

The two thirty-somethings looked at each other, both not saying a word and both testing each other to see who would crack first. After what felt like forever, emphasized by the driver's nervous coughing and wheel tapping to crack the silence, and in a noble act of succession, the first to introduce themselves was,

"Melanie Moore."

Melanie Moore. Chief marketing officer. Queen of advertising. Flirtatious firecracker. Part-time yogi. Slayer of Oswanian style boundaries with her pop-up collections like her golden-hued 'Code Mellow'. C-Cubed's 'Best New Designer' a few years ago because of them. She was happy to have made a name for herself, specifically under her own name, but she knew and never denied that she'd never be where she was if it weren't for,

"Lyanna Paulson." Lyanna fucking Paulson.

Naturally a brunette. Currently a blonde. Visible exercise and sports fanatic. Drink connoisseur. A flash celebrity made in the blink of an eye all based on luck. The epitome of nouveau riche. The youngest member to have been inducted into C-Cubed (and receive its BND award like Melanie) back when she was twenty-four. The Designer of the Year not long after. Melanie's best friend. Also, Melanie's boss, technically, but she rarely states that aloud. She was a lot of things and known for many more. But she was a household name for two.

Her fashion and design company 'Moonsong', along with its occasional luxury dabbles via 'Lunar Serenade', was going fifteen years strong with top sales and quality. Yet, in all of those fifteen years, with the exception of collaborations with industry peers and the even more occasional one-offs, every product was strictly for maho, leading to an aura of presumed racism constantly washing over her.

The two buddies bickered back and forth on the openness of their projects to those that towered over them, each having solid reasons for their views. But, with Lyanna having more say and severity, it always went her way. The threats and attempts of harm that were sent her way in the beginning when people realized her khadra-closed doors weren't just a phase, along with a few every now and then, weren't fun to experience. But even her miffed adversaries and confused familiars had to give her props for standing her ground and defending the safety of her staff, and each trouble always seemed to dissipate as quickly as it came.

That, and all of her giving back to just as many khadran causes as native maho ones helped, but people just seemed to always gloss over that.

Lyanna, even with her brief smile into the camera and mic, was still fuming from the event, and thinking of all her conflicts leading up to it wasn't making it better. Luckily for her, Driver Boy seemed to catch that, even with his back turned. Pushing her was the last thing he wanted to do. He just hoped his body could follow his heart and mind.

"I, uh..." he struggled to speak at first, seeing the coldness in Lyanna's eyes as she gazed into the camera. But that soon passed over, and his goal to make sure the drive did the same launched in full force. "I know you two must be looking for privacy going through the garage," he observed. "It's good that I know some scenic routes around the city. So, please make yourselves comfortable, and enjoy the ride."

Melanie had already found her way back to phone diving toward whatever as the van left the safety of the parking deck and, for the pair of couturiers, waved goodbye to C-Cubed for six months. The carpooling posse simultaneously passed under the art museum's overly cheerful exit sign, getting an eye roll of her own out of Lyanna.

'Thank you for visiting the Center of Colors!' it expectantly exclaimed. That farewell stayed still on the sign, but its lower half in all its mechanical glory had to show off, switching between presumably planned puns every few seconds. The trio managed to go under just as one went off – 'We hope to color you impressed once again really soon!' – and another took its place – 'May we brighten your day with flying colors upon your return!'

The wish for any sort of spectrum wasn't necessary as the aura around was still lively and beaming, perhaps being that last thing Lyanna's somewhat buzzed, water-guzzling person needed in her face.

"Hello, Xesant," she sarcastically greeted the outside world. "Glad to see you're still lively on a Sunday night." From its art-bordering white LEDs to the rainbow of marquees and HIDs along the streets, it was back to the big city they knew so well yet still a long way from home.

Xesant. A city nearly ten million strong by itself, and it looked like all of those citizens had filled the sidewalks like a sardine tin. A gem of Oswana, the city was, despite not being its capital. Half a tourist trap and half a modern marvel... and everything no one would've thought Lyanna would've submerged herself in for two decades. Luckily, she had Melanie by her side through it all, but she only eased the tension, not rid her of it.

She'd never be rid of it as long as she lived there.

Oswana was right at, if not itself being, the intersection of the planet's two historically opposite halves together: the more land- and khadra-filled northern Drakh and the sparser southern Hoemue with the maho. Time followed its course, and the communities came together, finally coalescing at the major metropolis literally on the equator between them: Lyanna's anxiety-driving abode.

Out of all the places in the world, Oswana, especially Xesant, had managed to optimize integration to a T, and it still amazed Lyanna after twenty years seeing it all work in action. It just made no sense in her head.

Watching vehicles and souls that were the size of houses pass by so strongly yet swiftly and never be in the way. Alternating stoplights and substitute paths for both sizes for undisrupted travel. Mismatched yet complementary pairs of windows, doors, and on every building for everyone to have a place to take in their surroundings. Blended groups – a surprisingly large minority – somehow walking in pace with each other, neither too fast nor too slow.

That one khadran girl crossing directly in front of the van – shoes taller and possibly heavier than the vehicle itself – with a maho in hand, losing her balance, and managing to fall with a resonating thud toward the Moonsong troupe with both her companion safely cupped to the chest and all her long and loose limbs snaking between all the tiny cars, including their van, on their side of the road.

All of this at once, emphasized by a cacophony of horn blaring and muffled, concerned voices. Yet, as Lyanna drank her way through more than a handful of bottles in seconds at the sights, the driver didn't even flinch, and Melanie may not have even noticed. Her lockage in her phone was made even more apparent by her following statement, cracking the lull of silence within their four, glass-peeking walls.

"Oh, look," she announced, sliding her phone over to Lyanna's vista. "In case you cared..."

With her nonchalant tone and apparent lack of awareness for her surroundings, even as the driver drove around the still collapsed cohorts, one could've assumed she found an article pertaining to the current slip and trip debacle outside that looked a lot like fake news if it weren't actually true. However, her carelessness was genuinely due to the routine with C-Cubed finally updating their social media and website with details from the meeting's latter half. What particularly caught Melanie's and now Lyanna's eyes was the results of the unimportant-aside-from-a-trophy, aptly named superlative voting, 'In Case You Cared'.

Lyanna usually didn't care enough to view them as soon as they were posted, regardless of having voted herself, mainly waiting until the next morning to see what any newcomers had to offer. However, with Melanie thrusting them in her face, she knew it had to be something interesting. Lo and behold,

"Congrats, Ms. 'Styled and Profiled,'" Melanie praised her bestie, who looked more or less unenthused except for an eyebrow raise. The 'Styled and Profiled' Award. Something between Best Dressed and Most Pulled Together, in the corporate sense. At least, that's what they said it meant. "The glassware company for the awards should just sponsor you at this point. Damn. What is this, your third time getting this? Fourth?"

"Seventh," Lyanna lifelessly corrected, pushing the phone away, "not that it matters." Considering how many times Lyanna earned it, with her reputation, it was probably neither in reality. "Your look is way better than mine. This was probably a brownnosing move, trying to be hyperaware of the culture or whatever."

Melanie chuckled at first at her snide remarks, until she reviewed exactly what Lyanna had said. With every word, she found more and more wrong with her perspective. Was she self-deprecating? Did she genuinely think she was right? What the fuck did she mean by them being 'hyper-aware' of her when no one other than them two knew why someone would even have to be? Melanie retracted her phone and sat in her seat, waiting for any clarifications, but none came, leaving her to ponder for herself with a stony stare. Unfortunately, as much as she tried to do otherwise, only unsavory ideas came to mind. For Lyanna's sake, Melanie hoped, if they turned out to be true, they weren't due to—

"Excuse me, Ms. Paulson, if I may..." Before Melanie had a chance to rebuke, question, or instantly judge her friend's suspicious commentary, the driver felt the need to interject. Luckily for all involved, it had no faults and raised the subconscious heating mood. "...I think you look great."

Lyanna's brows raised at the compliment, and Melanie joined her in shock, though she was more impressed as his bravery in speaking out of turn. He didn't realize that meaning upon looking back at them, seeing their expressions. He figured they were from him only recognizing one of them as opposed to both, and thus he made an addendum.

"N-Not that you don't, too, Ms. Moore," he nervously saved his hide, spouting a just-as-shy smile. "I just—Uh... you both probably earned it, okay?"

Lyanna's face stayed blank, but the driver immediately blushed at the sound of a tip being sent to his phone. Looking behind him to Lyanna's left, Melanie wore a grin of her own as her phone confirmed a scanned QR code and a quick transfer of payment.

"You're already paying him when he hasn't even signed on, yet?" Lyanna inquired, shooting the driver a smug look before turning toward the window... and cringing again at the mongrelized mania of it all. "But, hey, at least you have a good eye on you, wanting to represent the company with people that actually wear our stuff."

The redness on said subject's face instantly flushed back to his natural pallor. From a distance, there was nothing that discerned his uniform from that of any other worker at the Center of Colors. In fact, his pants and polo combo were exactly the same as any other's. But each soul was allowed a few extra freedoms employees had via accessories, body modifying, etc., and he did take part in that. As subtle as he tried to be in doing so, there were sprinkles of a certain brand down his person.

There was no way for them to go unnoticed by their head designers...especially with their owner catching them in his arms as a first impression.

"Uh, yeah," Melanie replied matter-of-factly. "He obviously knows how to read a room, er, van... and speaking of..." Going restless, once again, Melanie relocated to her seat's edge, setting a hand on the driver's chair back. "Hey, uh, I don't think you actually introduced yourself. What did your code say? Bryan? Bradley?"

"Br-Brenden, actually," the driver corrected, at least relinquishing anonymity. "I can't believe you noticed my gear."

He ran a hand across the small charm at the helix piercing on his left ear that matched a ring on his opposite hand, both pieces from a years-old collection. He would've twirled his feet and ankles around, too, showing off their extremely new shoes, both in age and ownership, but driving kept them still. The job correspondingly reminded him of a concern that was sure to get him penalized if he didn't address it soon.

"I also can't believe I haven't asked where I'm supposed to take you two," he chuckled, attempting to hide the ringing of his inner panic alarm. "Where did you have in mind? The Moonsong office?"

The ladies looked at each other briefly – Melanie slumping back again to face Lyanna head-on – to make a choice. The mistress of marketing implied, "I wouldn't mind heading there. It's not like we can do a late- or half-day tomorrow if we run super late doing random bullshit." A smirk briefly popped on Lyanna's mug. "Though," Melanie then countered, thus dropping said smile, "there were some, uh, biz things... I wanted to talk to you about."

"And, it's nothing you can't screen me at home?" Lyanna fought. By her tone alone, Melanie knew her idea had pancaked. "Mel, I love you, but I want to go home, sleep, and forget today."

The night had gone somewhat uncomfortably for them both, despite Lyanna's award, so she couldn't be blamed for not wanting to deal with anything anymore. But, Melanie shuddered, knowing how much more difficult things were going to become from it. She didn't want to make it worse, so she kept it to herself.

"A-Alright," she conceded. "I still want to head there. Your place in deeper inward, anyway, so I can get Brenden here to circle around and stop on by for a bit before going back to CC." A mutter of acceptance poked out of Lyanna before Melanie, at last, gave Brenden a destination. "Just head on over to T-Sa if you can, please. At least close enough to where Ly won't fall on her face if she'll need to walk."

The implication of inebriation was concerning, and the increased reference to some Moonsong deal was hyped as hell, but of all things to catch Brenden's attention, Lyanna's home was the showstopper. A fitting one but a surprise, nonetheless.

"You live at Sat Ave!?" he gasped, beaming through the rear-view mirror at her.

T-Sa. Sat Ave. Ten Saturn Avenue. One of the ritziest and private locales in all of Oswana, in spite of it being one of the most noticeable silhouettes in the lower Xesant skyline. Lower mutually in latitude and the height of its inhabitants. Only maho allowed. It was a sight to behold, but to Lyanna, it was the one place she could call her own. A fortress to be reckoned with. Literally.

"If you say anything," Lyanna hissed, jerking her eyes to Brendan's with a glower that could crack glass, "I will end you."

"Uh... I... N-Noted." Like the lapdog he was and now felt like, too, he complied, focusing back on the roads, pinning down the complex in his mental GPS, and heading on his way.

Melanie groaned at Lyanna's aggression, but rather than calling it out, she simply rolled her eyes and let it be. After all, from what it looked like, she had a long night ahead of her, and all of her energy should be saved for then. Well, most of it. The quietness that had encroached in the van quickly grew uncomfortable, leading to soft small talk between the driver and the fully-present passenger.

Lyanna let her eyes close, taking away the towering shadows and reverberations of titanic travel on all sides. The escapism, though brief, was blissful, opening opportunities to ponder plans for the upcoming week and beyond.

As they distanced themselves from downtown, the ratio of khadra decreased to nothing. The signs and sights of the borough where she burrowed on the daily shined to greet its golden girl. Through her slumber, it was easy to see her body adjust to its most familiar surroundings. Perfect tranquility... but it, unfortunately, had to end.

Brenden pulled into the drop-off lane of Ten Saturn Avenue, where a doorperson approached the van to help her out before halting and waiting outside her door, made aware of her still napping self. Melanie, risking a slapping fit her way, bit the bullet and rocked Lyanna back to the real world. Her waking softness resembled that of a baby; however, her too-old-for-this-shit sentimentalities soon broke through, along with the groan-inducing headaches that should've been here a long time ago.

"Welcome back, L.P.," Melanie greeted, thanking the gods for a passive awakening. "It's your stop."

A sequence of incoherent mumbles entered the airspace as the drowsy damsel attempted opening her door. The doorperson, seeing those multiple failures, eventually aided her exit, grabbing a hand then bracing around her back. Melanie, meanwhile, made out everything she was trying to say – a skill she had perfected after twenty years of tipsiness – amalgamating it all into a simple assurance,

"Nah, don't worry. You don't have to do anything. I've got this." Lyanna, even in her word salad of a mind, didn't feel too sure of that. But a quick kiss of valediction on the cheek sent her way made all those worries vanish and replaced them with giggling. "Now, get up there before you pass out."

More laughs ensued, but Lyanna eagerly obeyed, blowing a kiss back as her doorperson led her away. "Don't stay up too late, Mel!" she directed. "You, too, Brenden! None of us need eye bags."

Brenden, almost too in awe of the glamorous complex to catch her speaking, was surprised to be included in the farewell, even more so with a happy tone. Nonetheless, he appreciated it whole-heartedly, joining Melanie in waving her goodnight as she disappeared from view.

He took some time to calm from his high-fashion high before setting his course to Moonsong. However, before he drove off, Melanie locked him in place, reaching from the back to the steering wheel. He started to panic again, not even considering the presumably sweeter of the dynamic duo as a threat. The look on her face clearly showed a hidden craftiness that curdled his blood. Little did he know that none of it had to do with him.

No, actually, it slightly did. That cash drop Melanie made to him allowed for some new insight to reach her. He was more than qualified for plans she had had in the works for what felt like forever. His future modeling was only the tip of the iceberg, and she proved it by asking the last question along that path he ever expected to hear,

"Hey, Brenden, you had an order for alterations recently... but it wasn't for you, was it?"

#g/t #my writing #the high low life #faux pas #sw #fashion bitches #angst and cattiness but make it fashion... and with size differences

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redefinethegrind · 6 years

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Borderline Personality Disorder, The Will To Power, Spirituality, and Happiness: tying it all together

I am writing this manuscript on Borderline Personality Disorder because I want to connect to others with the same diagnosis. I am a provider with the diagnosis and I have an intimate understanding of what my brain goes through on a day to day basis. It is fascinating to me that something as simple as going to the gas station and buying a coffee could cause so much anxiety and grief. It has, however tied me up. I have spent hours trying to gather the courage to understand the perfect way to obtain a cup of coffee and it has impacted the flow of more than one of my days on this earth. That is ridiculous, but seemingly unavoidable to me when my anxiety, obsessive thought, splitting, and mood imbalances all hit at once.

My perception of self has never equaled the perception that others tell me that they see. People around me assure me that I am funny, charismatic, outgoing, caring, and a good person. In my head I often feel that I am disgusting, pathetic, weak, and a loser. I feel like a parasite sometimes while I fully strive to be a giving human being. That is the faulty wiring of my brain that I adopted sometime in early childhood. I have formed my personality around hating myself and feeling like I am never good enough. I don’t even know what I am trying to measure up to.

Formerly I thought that feeling never good enough was a positive thing for me. I thought it would push me to achieve more as I rose in life. I wanted to be the greatest human being in the world and I hated myself for not being that person already. I set an unreasonably high bar and laughed at myself when I failed to achieve success. If I failed at any task I would use it as evidence that I was indeed the failure I had come to know. If I succeeded I would write it off as something that should have been done better or more efficiently. It was unreasonable and counterproductive to my being to have those thoughts, but I could not make them go away.

I began seeking solace in material possessions at some point in my life. I was buying expensive cars and bigger homes. The material things would distract me from my inner conflict and pain. Ultimately, I realized that material possessions can never fill the void that I was feeling. Human connection is the only thing that can satiate that craving. I am indeed a human being. BPD has made me truly feel alien at times though and unable to connect with others. That is a fallacious thought and I now recognize it as such.

I have had days where I look around and everything seems foreign to me. During periods of stress and duress I would swear that people’s faces change and even the colors of my surroundings change. My inner voice takes on a different tone. My perception of the world warps with my mood. I feel it intensely and deeply. I am not making it up or crying for attention as I was led to believe as a child. My world genuinely changes based on my mood and faculties. That very subjective nature of my own reality makes this personality disorder difficult to pin down and properly treat regardless of the time and energy I dedicate.

This had led me to studying the very nature of consciousness and reality. I have read books by Jeffrey Schwartz and Caroline Leaf on neuroplasticity. I have studied quantum mechanics, relativity, anatomy, physiology, and psychology seeking concrete reasons for my sensation and perception. I became familiar with Deepak Chopra’s views on tying quantum mechanics to our consciousness. I started to see that I was not alone in viewing this reality as a very mailable and ever-changing substrate. I saw that humanities greatest minds were struggling with the same questions and looking on with both awe and frustration.

I wanted nothing more than to understand what my perception of consciousness, space, and time, truly boiled down to and to share my experience with other human beings. The kinds of thoughts I have are not typically talked about over morning coffee or the evening’s spaghetti. My thoughts are sometime uniquely Ernie ‘isms and I must accept that. Having BPD makes me immediately feel lonely though as I struggle to connect with others on concepts and ideas. I am well adapted at helping others in my professional life because I have an outlined task at hand and an end goal. I actually think my personality disorder makes me a better provider in some ways because knowing the type of person I am, I do not pass judgement. I am able to relate to others and feel empathy. Because my emotions are felt so extremely I am able to understand the emotions of others.

One maladaptive behavior I have taken to over the years is stifling my emotions completely on the surface. I have found myself to be suppressing the expression of my emotions to the point of operating in a robot-like fashion. I remember actually consciously choosing this process as a young child, as young as 5 years old maybe. I chose to suffocate emotions of anger and to sit in a hallway for hours on end one day. As I remember it I was at a relative’s house I did not want to be at and instead of participating in any social activities I sat in a hallway staring at the wall. Even at that young age I would sometimes skip breakfast and lunch as to isolate intentionally and not participate in normal activities. This went from a conscious decision as an early child to a subconscious reaction as an adult. Where the switch happened I don’t know, but now I catch myself avoiding social situations, meals, or performing simple daily tasks without having ever thought about it. It will be something that another person will point out. “Aren’t you hungry?” and I will think “Hmm, I don’t know, let me think about it… I guess I am hungry, I didn’t eat lunch.” Sometimes I will find a reason. It is like I throw a subconscious temper tantrum. I don’t even recognize myself doing it at this point and I wish I could control it. I am now monitoring my mood and looking for cues in order to correct the maladaptive behavior. This is strange as I am 33 years old.

I recall an experience in preschool when I was asked to sit in time out for coming at another kid with a plastic chainsaw. I took my time out of two minutes as I remember it, without fuss, then I would not get up on time in. I refused to get up for the rest of the day in fact. I made the punishment intentionally extreme as a choice. I remember choosing to not stand up as an act of self-disparaging rebellion. I remember thinking “I can sit here all day in time out just to show these people it doesn’t bother me.” As an adult I evaluate the behavior. I am thinking it was a way for me to say “I can’t be broken by your punishment.” I took a strong nihilist stance early on. Rules were ridiculous to me and whether or not I was supposed to suffer I would refuse to. I think I was trying to show them that punishment would be useless. They could not change me. They could not break me. I was in charge. I think I needed to feel in control. I believe it was overcompensation for a life that was truly out of my control. That is the best theory I can put together as an adult.

This sense of loss of control and my struggle to maintain a sense of it went on to define many aspects of my personality. Perhaps I was wanting that preschool teacher to look at me and say, “enough is enough, you don’t deserve to be punished” and to look at the ridiculous idea of changing another sentient being’s social behavior. I never understood why someone else could make rules or boundaries that I had to abide by. I think even as a young child I found them to be repulsive and insulting… arbitrary at best.

Was this manipulation? Was I truly engaging in a mind game with an adult at such a young age? In my mind the internal voice kept telling me to sit at that table in time out. To just wait it out. To see what happens. Who would break first? Not Ernie. That is what I did. It was a small event that essentially meant nothing, but in my mind, I can still relive it and feel the same emotions I felt then. I needed to show these people that though they could physically put me in restraints, it didn’t change a damn thing.

As an adult I saw the same behavior in a woman I call my twin. She seems to have many of the same thought processes and beliefs that I do. She struggles with boundaries and guidelines. She finds life to be mundane at best most days. She wonders why in the hell someone with so much mental energy has to be caged in such a dull environment. I stood in her way during a minor mincing of words we were having. I blocked her path to exit our shared kitchen. I could see her anger building. She was absolutely not going to give me a single answer at that time no matter how much I demanded it. She was appalled that I could stand in her way and physically overpower her. Though I could block her way, I could not get her to speak a single word. I could not break her. She was in control. She struggled and longed to have the ultimate sense of control. She could be physically restrained but even her living twin, the person she connects with deepest on this planet, was not going to be able to pull a single utterance from her conscious mind if she didn’t will it so. She had to win.

I saw myself in her that day. I saw an absolutely unbreakable spirit. What twinsie and I share is beyond physical, sexual, or psychological. It is deep and I cannot label it. I have never seen it in two other people. It is uniquely ours to share. We have something that the rest of this world could only dream of. I am the one person that she will ultimately break down for in this world and I am proud to be the one person that will break down for her. To take away those secure walls and expose our vibrant inner beauty. I love seeing her stand true and proud, a defiant lotus that the rest of this world doesn’t have access to. I am actually driven by being the one person that she lets in to her secretive world. That is how I define true love. I will absolutely break down and give up my sense of security and become vulnerable to share the ultimate connection with my true twin flame. I feel as though I long to both break through her every wall and to allow her to simultaneously break through every one of mine.

That is something I was seeking in this life and BPD was limiting me from sharing. A connection. The world felt alien. Until I felt someone with the same splitting, angst, core values, and pain I didn’t think I would ever find someone who would understand me. That feeling of loneliness was overwhelming and was defining my life. It left me standing alone in a crowded room.

Back to childhood, I look to an incident on the school yard. I was dangling from the monkey bars. I remember kicking my friend directly in the testicles intentionally while playing “chicken.” In my mind I knew exactly what I was doing, and I intended to kick him in the most painful area possible to drop him from that collection of steel. I was a child, I don’t know why I wanted to hurt him, but my thought was “I need to hurt this person right now.” I am still friends with him today, his name is Josh. We went on to discuss spiritual matters as adults. That day on the school yard I brought my leg forth and connected as intended right in his groin. I then remember the teacher coming to me and telling the other children that it was an accident. I bought into her story and lied about my intentions. I claimed I did it on accident. I took the teachers story and went with it. I saw that I could get away with murder. I saw that given the right social performance I could do anything and spin it as something it wasn’t.

Unfortunately, that ‘social performance’ aspect became central to my childhood. I felt like an actor much of the time. I was playing a role to get the results I wanted from every given situation. I never let even my family know the real me. I only opened up to a few core friends, and even then, I never fully opened up and showed my real core. I felt vulnerable if people were able to figure me out, so I always acted. I would pretend to be engaged in some boring TV show just to throw people off of understanding my true interests. It was like I knew I was surrounded by people that I really didn’t want to connect with so I would connect with them on things I didn’t care about so that I could then have false relationships with them. By maintaining the superficial relationship, I was in control. If I ever felt comfortable enough I would break down the superficial connection and allow a true, deep connection to exist. I can count on one hand the number of people I have ever started that process with. The people I would feel comfortable truly connecting with were special and I would show them my true vulnerabilities and interests in music, art, video games, and science on my own terms. To give them some sense of control in getting to know me was my ultimate way of letting them know that I truly loved them.

I don’t know why I complicated my social interactions so much, but I did. It was elaborate and took a lot of my thought process. It continues to do so and I do it now without conscious thought or effort. The truth is, I am able to ‘bond’ with anyone on just about anything because I have become a chameleon at blending in when needed. I can fake being interested in just about anything when needed and people automatically see me as their friend. The truth is, deep down I have not connected and with most of those people I share surface level connection I do not wish to have anything deeper. I do not wish to let them in. I genuinely have come to love all people and I actually enjoy getting to know them, but initially that wasn’t the case. Early on I simply played a role and felt completely detached emotionally from almost everyone I came into contact with. I now get my sense of well-being from being able to keep everyone calm and genuinely liking me. I don’t know why, but my personality has developed in that fashion. It seems that if someone has a problem with me I genuinely internalize it and let it gnaw at my gut deep down. On the surface, however, I have made a habit of acting completely unphased by anything no matter how harsh. It is like I feel one thing and exhibit another on the surface. My personality is complex and maybe even inappropriate.

I knew at some point my truth was my own truth. I could easily manipulate reality one way or another even as a child. I found myself in deep thought over emotions and relationships. If something was not going my way as a child I would do something like go out of my way to put myself in an obviously vulnerable position in order to gain some leverage in the form of getting an adults attention and therefor gain control over my environment when the adult found me to be in a precarious situation and would come to my rescue whether it be mentally or physically. I could use my projection of deep sadness to get adults to feel sorry for me. I could use a projection of being excited about something that everyone else found repulsive as a way to get people to back out of my personal space and think I was weird. I was in control. I was letting people in who I loved and pushing people away who I didn’t. I was learning more about those people while they learned nothing about me. It was a guaranteed safe place.

I now see my eccentric likes and dislikes as an elaborate filtering mechanism. I would put up a wall of weirdness and if someone actually tolerated getting through all of the weird parts of Ernie they had earned the right to get to know the true Ernie. They could get through and see that I am indeed a loving, caring, compassionate, gentle, altruistic human being. But first they had to wade through a sea of dead baby jokes, menstrual blood tinged cottage cheese and conspiracy theories that Ernie also finds amusing.

The good energy that makes me up is also capable of appreciating the dark side of life and finding it amusing. It is important to me that my true friends see that and know that all in all I am a good person but that I can laugh and muse at the darkness. That having no boundaries and no limits is simply my way of being truly open to experiencing every aspect of life. That being able to test my power one day doesn’t mean I want to be in control, because the very next day I might test my vulnerability. I want to experience life to it’s fullest and most extreme. I am wired that way. I want to feel fully in control while knowing fully well that ultimately I am powerless.

Looking back, it seems like a child’s cry for attention. As an adult I think that sense of control over emotional relationships gave me comfort in a way. I was more comfortable knowing that I was leading the adults on and letting them think I was a certain person when in my mind I was not that guy. I am trying to honestly explore that feeling and to see if I am indeed driven by the want to control and manipulate or if this is truly involuntary… or at least to explore what it is like living in a mind with BPD

In my first marriage I connected fairly quickly with a quiet girl who had a somewhat bumpy past. Growing up she was also left to fend for herself at times, at least that is what I gathered from the stories she told me. I connected with this girl and we spent much time together. We learned each other’s personalities, likes, and dislikes. I was not always honest in the beginning. I would, for example, say I didn’t like sea food when in reality I loved eating fish. I would choose to not like it because she didn’t like it. I would lie to connect with her. That went on for the first few months of our young relationship. I was 17 years old when I met this girl. I was still figuring out who I was, and I was forming it with another person around a process of manipulating in the context of borderline personality disorder.

The relationship had ups and downs, but early on I was the first to say “I Love You.” I was the first to make the extreme moves and then use my brain to fill in the rest later, trying to logically connect the dots. I saw this girl in a hallway in high-school and my first thoughts were “could you ever marry her, would you be with her forever, would she be the love of your life?” I immediately began planning to go all in with her after we first agreed that we were dating. I escalated things quickly and vowed to spend eternity with her because she gave me the time of day. Most people don’t think like that. I did. I was all in day one. I also at the same time felt like I would destroy her life by letting her get with such a loser like me. I wanted to love her and to save her by pushing her far away from me. The selfish part of me needed her, the selfless part of me needed her to be free.

I started off spending my every waking moment obsessing about this girl and ultimately did go on to marry her, but in the process, something strange happened as I did not understand my brain at the time. I would get comfortable with her and things would be going well, and I would assume that I was not doing enough or good enough for her. I would then create tension and angst in the relationship and pressure her away from me. I would push and push. Because I was not perfect. I would always assume that there was some flaw or fault in myself that just wasn’t good enough and I would use it against us. I would tell her time and time again that I was not good enough for her and that I was a pile of garbage and that she could do better. That was my depression seeping in and it was not a valid thought. The example that I read from a person with BPD that really stuck with me is this: “I could see a person begging for money. If I didn’t give them money I would kick myself for being selfish. If I did give them money I would kick myself for not giving enough.” It was like no matter what I gave it was never enough. I was wired to believe that my all out best effort was going to fall short and therefor I was doomed to be a piece of trash.

The pattern of constantly self-loathing and memorizing disparaging remarks created emotional turmoil and I would then push my partner away and reel her back in. This happened over and over again. It was exhausting. It resulted in significant damage. My personality was unstable enough that she never knew what she was going to get. She spent her time going out of her way to keep me from going insane and I constantly tested boundaries. What would she truly tolerate? Did she love me enough to put up with this? Unfortunately, this also enabled the borderline behavior to exacerbate. It went from something that I was doing at age 5 as an experiment to something that I couldn’t control as an adult. My emotions had become out of my control and they were being used to shape relationships in my life. It was chaotic and seemed a bit peculiar when compared with the way other people seemed to feel.

I have often felt alien and alone in this world. I felt that other people could not possibly feel so disconnected to their fellow man while fully knowing that they are indeed human themselves. Now reading the literature, I am encouraged that many people feel just like me. Alien. Robotic. Foreign. They have unknowingly programmed themselves to inappropriately use emotions to influence relationships as some sort of response to stress. The problem with BPD is, by the time it is active and roaring, it is too late to look back. It becomes the norm. The ego is established and without a great deal of introspection, guilt, pain, and rethatching, identifying these things as maladaptive can seem undefeatable. As a young adult I lost control of my emotions quite a bit and I was a bit all over the place. I didn’t recognize why, or even see it as a problem. It was just me. I would have outbursts of anger at others, at myself, at friends, and at family. Relationships would seem to be crashing to me when others had no clue what I was even focusing on. I would sometimes just stay quiet and disappear. I remember that was my way of quitting bands or quitting jobs… I would simply stop showing up, stop answering phonecalls, and just cease to exist. I would back out of relationships rather than face the conflict of admitting that perhaps it was time that I moved on.

I didn’t want to face the conflict in person, eye to eye. I didn’t want to let anyone down. I truly wanted to give my all to make everyone happy, but at the same time, a part of me was dying inside by continuing to be fake. I felt like an actor. I felt like I couldn’t simply stand up sometimes and say “this music we are making isn’t what I want to make” and walk away. I wanted to be in control of the writing and creative process but instead I would remain silent in the background playing drums and flexing to keep others happy. All the while, my unhappiness was boiling over and being exhibited through my avatar (as I have come to call my body) in silence and palpable disconnection. Where other people wanted to make music to make crowds of people think they were cool, I wanted to make music that connected spiritually with myself. Sometimes my peers would view me as a weird guy just wanting to make weird music for the sake of being different, a cry for attention perhaps. That wasn’t the case. I wanted to write the kind of music that truly expressed how I was feeling.

I wanted to the go on to perform that music on my own terms in my own way for others to either appreciate or reject. I longed to connect to others through that music, but if they couldn’t appreciate it that was okay too. I felt disconnected from my bandmates who simply wanted to perform a couple of cover songs for a room full of drunks. I was not there to entertain, I was there to teach and experience. That is what interested me and ultimately why I wanted to quit every band I was ever in. I have not been able to find another person who feels the same way, of wanting to create something that we can all connect on at a visceral level.

I would give my all to writing and performing drum and vocal parts for some of the bands I was in over the years. I would try to contribute my musings through ironic lyrics and nuanced drum fills. All the while I felt underappreciated. I felt like I was just a guy who was there to fill in where any drummer could just sit in. I felt that my views on the world and lyrics weren’t taken seriously, as much as they were written in satire, that is the seriousness that I intended. To satirically point out the ridiculous nature of heavy metal’s backbone which is isolating and pushing people away more and more as they seek the next “legit” band and scoff at “posers.” I wanted to bring these people together and give them a sense of “maybe we’re all in the same boat and we should just have a good time” rather than worrying about how freaking gay breakdowns and hardcore dancing was.

I lost music somewhere along the way because I could never find like-minded people to play it with. I wanted to simply connect. I wanted to make music for the sake of music, connection, love, solidarity, and to express our feelings with the human experience. I didn’t want to replicate what other people were already doing. I didn’t want to entertain a room full of people on a Friday night. I didn’t want a free bar tab or a backstage pass. I didn’t want paid for a single gig. I just wanted to see who else was feeling what I was feeling. I still want that, but I don’t know where to look.

Moving on, ultimately, I went on to end my first marriage and I had reasoned that there was just too much damage done and that there was no way to mend from the amount of times I had pushed and pulled this girl. I also had begun falling in love with another girl who happened to share many personality traits with me: the aforementioned twinsie. I finally felt that deep connection with another human being that I had been seeking for so long, and it was on the tail end of me trying to come to the conclusion that I was in fact not human refuse.

That connection that I mention is a key part of my personality. It is central to my sense of well-being that I be understood, appreciated, and loved by someone else. I never recognized that before. I was so caught up in self-loathing that I honestly believed that I was not worth loving. I have read that this is common in those with BPD. A sense of being the one person that cannot be loved, appreciated, respected, or connected with has become central to many of us. We have developed maladaptive personalities as a response to absurd stimuli in the setting of distinctive genetics.

Western society has us filing through as caged animals. We are in fact mammals. We are designed by nature to eat, sleep, reproduce, and dominate. We have done a good job of dominating our environment. We are now at the top of the food chain on this planet, Earth. We human-beings are the apex predators and because of that we sometimes lose touch with our true inner animal. It is like the alcoholic who is 10 years sober who has that one drink, he is suddenly rushed back in to that cycle of drinking. Day after day and starting over at square one.

Human beings are complex social creatures. We thrive in settings of love. True love and empathy are the only ingredients necessary to produce positive results. We must love our children and nurture them. We must find ways to break down their walls and get through to them and let them know that we truly love them no matter what. That is the only ingredient needed for a successful life. Love. We must support them and bear with them as they learn this process of living.

I now realize that I am a valuable human being and that I do deserve to be loved. Unfortunately, it took me a very long time to realize this. It seems so simple, and on the surface, it is. But even with all of the logic in the world, my emotions would never allow me to love myself. I could have come in with this first, but it may have poisoned my understanding of life. I may have not gained the knowledge and insight that I have had I not suffered.

The worst decision I could have made in my life was to begin using chemicals to “shut my brain off” as I always called it. I began drinking heavily or taking sleeping pills to just go to sleep at the end of the day. The constant struggle of never feeling good enough or worth living. Studies clearly show the prevalence of alcohol and drug abuse with BPD. For me it was the option to turn off the torture generator in my head to drink enough alcohol to sleep. I wasn’t doing this to destroy my marriage, my career, or to hurt anyone. Ultimately it did cause a lot of strain and did cause stress on the things I valued. I didn’t choose alcohol over life, I chose shutting off painful thoughts over suicide. I was just wanting an off switch from the reality that I was interpreting as so painful. People don’t realize that. I feel sorry that people view it as a personal attack when I say reality hurts. I don’t mean it that way. I also don’t mean to ask for their sympathy. I simply want to live and let live. I will get by, I am strong, I have faith in me and I want others to have the same.

I was able to stop drinking alcohol and focus on myself early in 2018. But at that time, I was not really even thinking about the BPD, I was more focused on depression or bipolar disorder. I stopped drinking and started really focusing on myself through exercise and diet. I wasn’t aware of how my personality disorder played into my mood disorder. It was a chaotic dance of sorts. There were nuances of mania and depression rearing their heads with this an almost flat affect I had developed. I found everything in life to be absurd and treated life as though I were a stand-up comedian just musing on my observations. I kept a straight face. Only the most extreme things could cause me to truly laugh. I somehow inappropriately (or maybe appropriately, this is subjective) attached laughter with absurdity.

I was able to see the humor in everything. There was absolutely nothing off limits. My extreme personality allowed me to explore extreme topics. I had watched clips of people being hurt and killed and essentially found the ridiculousness of it all to allow me to laugh. My brain had seemingly wired a circuit to find absurdity funny, so I could escape the true pain that it was causing me. We see people get kicked in the scrotum on MTV all day and laugh at it, this is a light version of what I am describing. Having access to all things human via the internet I desensitized myself to the most extreme of human behaviors. I have seen video footage of a man being beaten to death with a hammer. I have seen a chainsaw beheading video. Even worse, I have heard a chainsaw beheading video.

When I honestly put myself in that man’s shoes whose lifeless body is gurgling for wind from some prehistoric reflex I feel the pain of the human condition. I am able to know that I am mortal. I will die. I will cease to exist in the form of Ernie one day. I have been face-to-face with death as a young child raised by elderly distant relatives, and I have watched other human beings take their last breath as a hospice nurse. I have hunted deer and geese. I have taken the life from a dove and consumed her flesh. It is a chaotic balance of energy that I have been a part of in this very real chain of events.

The will to power, the longing to be in control takes a darker turn at times. So for me to make the decision to take another sentient being’s life in order to eat, I now must question what that truly means. As a 33-year-old white male in America I am surrounded by meat and cheese. Lives lost for the sake of contributing energy back into the circle of life. It all comes back to me and I can feel so clearly the morning I first took the life of a white-tailed deer.

I was camped out in my tree stand. I was dressed like a redneck in camo and I had hiked into some fall scenery right out of a Mark Twain novel. I was sitting silently and waiting for motion. When I finally heard the crushing of leaves my heart began to race. This is it. This is the moment I have been waiting for. To kill this sentient being. The hunt was on.

I saw two does playfully wondering through a sparse patch of thin trunked trees. The leaves were golden and red. They were almost dancing with one another. They hadn’t noticed me but I watched them come into my field of vision. I moved and one of the does looked up. She made eye contact with me. Her tail flipped up. White flag! She was ready to run. She was afraid. I drew my bow and let loose an arrow into the distance.

There was a calamity of hooves and cracking leaves. My heart was racing and there was sweat on my brow. I could smell autumn. I was one with the nature scene I had very realistically painted myself into. I rushed down from my latter clumsier than I would like to admit and began taking large gallop-like steps toward a creek bed. I could see a faint trail of blood on the ground guiding me to where this injured creature must be. It was like I looked up and there she was. Right in front of me. I was on top of her and didn’t even see her. She appeared out of nowhere.

She was lying in a shallow creek bed making labored breaths. Begging mother nature for her life. I pulled my 9mm side arm from my waist and did what I thought was the right thing at the time. I mercifully killed her by shooting her in the head. To end her suffering. My adrenaline was coursing through my body and I could not imagine what my next move was. I picked up the lifeless doe that was once dancing with her friend and threw her over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes. I carried her out of the woods like a “real man” and disrespectfully threw her body in the back of my hatch back ford focus. Her eyes were glazed over and her tongue fell out the right side of her mouth.

I brought her to my home and removed her skin. I hung her from her hind legs in my shed with some bailing twine that was laying around and I opened YouTube videos on how to butcher a deer. I called my friend Gabe to see if he had a knife, he was too drunk to help me dress my kill.

I began hacking parts off of this majestic creature’s body with an axe and a dull kitchen knife. I had already purchased butchers paper and I broke down the meat the best I could with the guidance of Youtube. I turned on a death metal album by Cannibal Corpse to get me in a disgusting mindset as I butchered away. I needed the distraction in order to complete the job. My now ex-wife came home to find blood on the back porch and door knob and she knew “Ernie got a deer.” What the fuck does it even mean? I got one.

We went on to incorporate this fresh meat into our cooking for the rest of that year and I even tried to consume the organ meats with Gabe as to not waste any of the animal. Looking back it seems so barbaric and out of character for me. I don’t think I could ever pull the trigger again or let another arrow fly. The sanctity of life is not something that I wish to choose when it shall end. All life is sacred in This consciousness. That is what I have come to appreciate. I know others struggle with it and take it lightly, but I have intimately been there. I have danced with death and I know every callus lunge.

To me, now, the thought of being able to obtain a permit to hunt and end a life is absurd. Of course, creatures need to eat. But I am looking at this planet as a whole. How can human beings simply choose what life is sacred and what life is not? We fish the oceans dry. Why must we consume those things with sentience in order to survive? I don’t believe it is necessary at this point. That seems a bit misguided to me to think that it is entirely just sack after sack of matter and therefore vitamins and nutrients. Sure, I have stomped out an ant hill, I have crushed a fly. But what gives me that right? I believe as a human being we are blessed and cursed to know that life is finite. I do not wish to be a god amongst plebeians.

Knowing that my true moral code is to love all life and to appreciate it and hold it in high regard is paramount to my existence. I can then, unfortunately, explore the very opposite of this notion. That life is not sacred. That this existence is pointless and meaningless. That we are simply chemical reactions. The view of materialists is that we are a complex series of reactions. While I don’t believe this to be accurate, I have had my brain chemistry altered to the point that I almost believed it.

I had a short stent of taking the drug Abilify for an episode of mania and panic. I was started on this in-patient and continued it for about a week after hospitalization. Honestly, within a few days of being on the drug I felt no emotional attachment to my wife of so many years. I also believe, however, my true emotional attachment to her had waxed and waned over the previous years as my personality disorder pushed and pulled my life. While on Abilify I was able to make cold and rigid decisions without any emotional repercussions. I truly feel I could have strangled somebody to death and not felt any remorse on that medication. Is it simply the neurotransmitters in our brains that regulate our sense of right and wrong or are we tuning into something greater like a collective consciousness?

Through the years professionally and personally I have chronically had angst about my performance or accomplishments. I would always immediately downplay my performance and know that I could do better. Until I drastically modified my lifestyle and stopped drinking alcohol I was headed toward self-destruction. Having our neurotransmitters out of balance is like tuning a piano with an out of tune reference. I don’t know how to better describe it. It is like interpreting the world through a faulty interpretation device. Nature provides us the tools to perfectly balance and calibrate our interpretation device if we are willing to take the time and effort.

In this eastern society it does take time and effort to calibrate your device. In the wild it would not. You would not worry about being depressed or manic in the wild for a number of reasons. The cycle would have simply played out as it should. In our artificial reality that we have constructed with these cities and roadways, we have to take the time to get back to nature if we want balance. We need to re-calibrate our brains. We need to balance our neurotransmitters.

Our neuro-endocrine systems naturally produce everything we need if they are functioning properly. In order to function properly they need the correct environment. Our biology is specifically fine-tuned to allow us to thrive in whatever given setting we happen to arise from. We are at a point in which we are modifying our environment faster than evolution can catch up with and thus we have the central disconnected feeling that comes out as angst and turmoil. Identifying this and utilizing our strengths to fit into our own lives on an individual level is the prescribed treatment. There is no one size fits all plan.

Neuro-endocrinology functions optimally when given appropriate ingredients and in human beings those ingredients can be obtained from plant sources, water, and of course love. In order to best fuel our bodies optimally we should be eating a vegan diet which is free of processed foods, hormones, antibiotics, and suffering. When we eat food, we are eating the building blocks of our body and mind. Food is information essentially. What we take in builds what we are. This is important. The fuel we run on is central to our functioning at our best.

Looking at myself now, I am obsessed with telling the truth and being accurate. I want to live a life that I am proud of and therefor hold no secrets. I want to connect with another human being on an intimate level in which I tell her no lies. I want to be as open and forth coming as possible. The ultimate vulnerability. The payoff, is the ultimate relationship. It is important that we all begin to shift our culture to a culture of openness. We should be proud of who we are. We should be able to express our deepest desires and interests freely.

If we have something to hide, it is likely leading to negative karma. This is how I weigh my karma. When I do something I ask myself, “Is this something you would feel proud to tell everyone in this world?” If it is not, there is a better option. It is important as a species as we continue to evolve spiritually and emotionally that we understand this internal compass and respect it. We need to always bend to the will of the internal compass and listen to it in order to have the most fulfilling lives. If your gut tells you not to do something, you seriously need to stop and reconsider that decision. Take time. Make the right choice. To truly work through this process is grueling but it will lead to the ultimate transcendence.

The ultimate will to power is to give up complete control. Give your life over to the laws of the universe. To love without questioning “what is in it for me?” to give without wondering “do they appreciate it?” to teach others to better themselves and stop judging them for what they aren’t. Start seeing human beings for their potential. To push forth and get every bit of positivity out of our fellow-man’s soul. To not wonder “how am I going to get by” and just wonder “how can I help someone else get by.”

That is what I am striving for. I will post this long post for free, relatively unedited, though it feels like it should probably be in some sort of BPD and spirituality book or something. I know that in my life the Universe will provide for me food, shelter, wisdom, and love if I stay on the right path. I have that faith. I am following it with open mind, open heart, and open soul.

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lubdubsworld · 7 years

Text

(Yoongi x Oc ) Tumblr Prompt.

Genre : unhealthy relationships. Married Au. A bit of an asshole yoongi. But he has his reasons.

Rating : Mature.

part 1/?

“Where are you?” his voice is scratchy, slightly rough and a little hoarse, like he’s been talking too much for too long or maybe he’s just been out in the cold winter weather without wrapping a scarf around his neck again. Or maybe he’d just woken up.

Where was he?

New york? Paris? what time was it there?

i glanced at the huge map on the white board near the drawing room, where i’d pinned post its to track his schedule as he traveled around to promote his company’s newest product. My eyes trailed over to the edge of Japan.

Ah, he was in Osaka.

“Y/N Can you hear me?” He said loudly and his voice momentarily jolted me. yoongi always had a really deep and booming voice and it’s effect on me hadn’t diminished over the many years we’d been married. A room full of men and Yoongi’s voice would still stand out, resonating inside my soul and making my ribs constrict around my lung, cutting off air.

“Y/n!!” He growled and I pulled myself into the present flinching at how loud his voice was.

it echoed around the empty living room of our apartment, jarringly loud from the phone’s speakers and making my heart pound just a little.

“Home. It’s twelve in the night. where else would i be? ” I said bleakly, grabbing the tin jar full of basil leaves and giving it a little shake before carefully wrenching the lid off. The small pan of water on the stove was already boiling and i carefully shook a handful of leaves into my palm, dropping them in the water before grabbing the phone off the hook .

“Alone?” There’s an edge to his voice, a subtle nuance that ought not to be there. that had no right to be there because he wasn’t the one sitting hour after hour, night after night in an empty apartment, waiting for a spouse who wasn’t there.

When he was the one breaking vows and treating me like shit. i wondered if he was sleeping with someone else. Had he gone to a bar, picked up a nice , pretty young thing with his impressive, “ i’m a pediatric surgeon, i save children for a living “ resume. i wasn’t bitter. i loved Yoongi. His profession was one of the most attractive things about him. He worked selflessly to help young kids who couldn’t afford regular medical treatment.

But I wondered who took the edge off, when his work became too much for him. it sure as hell wasn’t me.

So i wondered if perhaps he got it else where. you know.

Who was i kidding? of course he wasn’t. Min Yoongi was just too much of a ‘ nice’ man to cheat on me, but everything else he did, broke my heart. a million times over.

The apathy. The disinterest. That way he had of staring at me when i was trying to talk to him, like he just couldn’t wait for me to shut up. On numerous occasions, i’d stopped half way through a sentence simply because of how uninterested he’d appeared and cruelly, he wouldn’t even ask me to finish.

it ought not to hurt so much, after two years, i thought bleakly. it ought not to hurt because it was never a real marriage anyway. it was a transaction , an exchange of commodities.

it was like one of those political marriages in historical dramas, done for the greater good of everyone involved so by all means, it should not hurt at all.

But it did.

“why do you say that? You think i’m with someone? “ I said softly, exhausted at the unsaid accusation. At the injustice of it. i wanted to toss it back at him.

what am i being faithful to? It’s the vow you haven’t broken yet but what about all the other things you promised me? Where’s the love you promised?

" Don’t be absurd. i just wanted to know if mother is down to visit. she told me she wanted to see you. ” He sounded annoyed as well and lately it felt like that was all he felt for me : annoyance and irritation.

“Your mother wants me to get hit by a car.” i said simply and he took a deep breath.

“ stop demonizing my mother. She wouldn’t treat you that way if you could be a bit more filial. why don’t you go to her Circle meetings or help her with her charities. ? You were so fucking eager to marry me... can’t you at least take your responsibilities as a Min daughter in law, seriously?” He snapped.

a min daughter-in-law.

The most coveted position a young women in Korea could aspire to. The chance to be married to one of the youngest, most influential men in the country. A handsome, intelligent young man who held an unfair amount of power in his hands.

i wanted to run away, i thought with sudden detached clarity. Somedays , i just wanted to lock the door, grab my wallet and run as far as I could. when he touches me, when he presses himself against me, inside me and then shuts his eyes like he’s pretending its someone else.... it makes me want to run and disappear.

“are you even listening to me, Y/N? Why are you taking so bloody long to respond to me?!” He snapped.

“I’m listening. ” i said tiredly, switching off the stove and grabbing the strainer off the rack. the fine bone china cup on the kitchen shelf is well used while it’s pair is brand new. A subtle reminder of how often I was alone. So often. From the moment, i packed all my clothes and moved into his luxury penthouse.

“ Are you drunk?” he said finally.

Silence.

“No.” i said, feeling jittery. But i wish i was. i can’t put up with you when i’m sober.

“ Good, listen carefully. i called you because I will be landing in Seoul tomorrow night. We have a luncheon with the Kim Corp CEO the next day and i want you to send my Valentino suit to the cleaners.”

a glorified maid. with occasional access to her master’s bed.

“Okay. i will.” I said dully.

“ and call my mother.”

i opened my mouth to protest but he had already hung up.

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

“Billionaire Heiress Lalisa Manoban landed in Seoul after a successful modeling campaign and Fan Meeting across Asia and Europe. Coincidentally, she was found travelling with world renowned Pediatric Surgeon, Min Yoongi and...”

“ coincidence, my ass. He’s fucking her! i just know it.” My sister growled, pointing an accusatory finger at the small portable TV high up on the shelf of her shop. I grimaced and watched her as she directed her employee to take care of Yoongi’s suit.

“Unnie please...I really don’t want to talk about that.” i said, feeling exhausted.

“Why are you even with him?” She said bitterly. “ You should just dump his ass.”

I smiled a little at that.

“I really should...” i said thoughtfully, thinking about something far more important. There was a small budding hope inside me. But i hadn’t confirmed it yet. It could be a way to salvage my hopeless marriage. Could be.... but I was kind of terrified to actually confirm it. what if i’d just gotten my hopes up. what if it would all come crashing down on me?

“Y/N...are you even listening to me? You don’t have to worry about me and mother. The shop is doing well now. We hardly need yoongi’s support. ”

“You know it isn’t that easy, unnie. i can’t just leave him. No matter how much i want to.” i fumbled with the ring on my finger. a handcuff, i thought softly. A tiny handcuff , soldered by the love I had for an undeserving husband and the fear I had for being alone.

that was it essentially. the fear that if i left him, i would somehow be more unhappy than i was now and then it would all be for nothing.

But my sister didn’t drop the subject.

“So that’s the only reason you’re staying? Not because you’re still in love with the guy, right?” She said shrewdly, eyes sharp and accusatory as she stared at me.

i flushed a little.

“That was a long time ago.”

“But you never got over it.” She pointed out.

“i was a child! i was fifteen or something! I didn’t know better. i thought he was handsome that’s all......”

........and kind and generous and so incredibly funny. i loved the way he would rule the basketball court, the way he would sound so passionate as he talked about his photographs in the photography club. i loved the way he would bring a flask full of milk for the stray puppies behind the school grounds. i loved the way he would play the piano during School festivals, using those ivory white fingers to coax the most beautiful sounds out of something lifeless. The way he breathed life into those keys and made them sing.

But somehow the delusion had carried on into adulthood.

And i’d thought, stupidly , that his hands were magic. that his breath was magic.

That if he would touch me then he would be able to breath life into me too. that he would somehow takeaway all the misery and hurt that i’d accumulated in my soul over the years.

That if only i could have Min Yoongi, everything else would fall in place.

“ Hey.. Y/N.... are you listening?” My sister’s voice pulled me out of my reverie. Everyone was asking me this, weren’t they? are you listening? are you listening?

I couldn’t listen. not with the voices in my head screaming too loud .

“uh..huh?” i said, momentarily befuddled.

She smiled.

“i said, i’ll send the suit around with one of the kids. Go get some rest. you look like you haven’t slept in a while.”

Two years. I haven’t slept in two years.

“ thanks unnie.”

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

“.... We’re planning on introducing and Android and iOS app as well, something that would help the parents have a closer relationship with the Hospital itself, be updated on any new vaccines, get notifications for them or make appointments online as well. The app would be linked to our main data base and the kids who are staying with us will be included as well...” Yoongi’s voice was deep and steady, ringing clear with intelligence and it was physically evident, how impressed the CEO of Kim corp, a young man called Kim Seokjin was,

“You’re clearly very good at what you do, Yoongi ssi..” He said brightly, glancing briefly at me and smiling. “ and your wife is truly lovely. My chaerin said that you offered to design some antique pieces for her.” He said brightly. i bowed my head politely.

“Y/N is one of the best antique jewelry designers in Asia. Chaerin noona should be honored.” Yoongi wrapped an arm around my waist, fingers spanning across my lower abdomen, thumb dipping into the small space between my skirt and blouse, cold against the warmth of my skin.

The public persona that he wore, when we were out in company was flawless. i felt slightly nauseous. slightly dizzy but along with it was a little bit of happiness. i had a feeling that this nausea was linked to something new and exciting. something that could perhaps make yoongi like me again.

But i wasn’t sure. Not yet. The two brand new pregnancy tests in the bottom of the bathroom cabinet, carefully wrapped in brown sheets , reminded me that this could go either way. it could be nothing, a false alarm in which case i wasn’t aby worse off than i was now. or it could be positive.

Which would mean, me telling yoongi that somehow, against all odds of maths , our drunk, ill-judged decision to have sex, that one time in the back of the car without protection had resulted in a baby.

I felt my skin go a little cold at the prospect. I didn’t really want to think about how he would react to that. But i couldn’t help but hope.

He loved children, didn’t he?

He would like one of his own, right?

“what’s wrong?” His voice drew me out of my introspection and i blinked at him, feeling a little queasy.

“Nothing... i.. i’m sorry.”

He hesitated.

“ Have you been sleeping less.,.. You look really tired.” He sounded almost worried and i swallowed dryly.

“I.. no. I’m fine. “

he nodded , unconvinced.

“are you sure? if you want to head back home and get some rest...”

It was times like this that made it hard to fall out of love with this man, i thought miserably.

The occasional bouts of genuine concern .

The extra cup of coffee on the side of the bed table. The closed windows when the morning was too cold. The home cooked dinners when I was feeling sick or tired.

And i didn’t mind repaying him this way.

See, sometimes, i wasn’t a shitty daughter in law.

sometimes, i lived up to the min family’s reputation and did the right thing. i was the perfect trophy wife who greased wheels and helped the whole machinery of the nepotistic Seoul society to function.

“It’s important right? This.. meeting. Luncheon. Seokjin ssi is supposed to be investing in your hospital. i’ll hold out. don’t worry. I’ll be a good girl. . ” i said nervously.

the words seemed to affect Yoongi. His breath hitched, gaze dropping to my lips as he swallowed.

“Fuck, you’re such a pain.”

I frowned.

“what’s wrong? don’t you want me to do that? “

Yoongi sighed, nodding.

“Yes, but i’d rather not do it at the expense of you falling face first into the food later on.”

i smiled weakly. he had a way of making me smile, even when it wasn’t really his intention. another trait that drew me to him.

“i’ll try to resist.”

He shook his head .

“Fine. i need to go meet a few other doctors. Will you be okay by yourself?”

I nodded, watching as he untangled himself from around me and walked to the other side of the lawn. I moved to the corner where a small table held a collection of drinks and refreshment. i grabbed a small flute of lemonade and nearly jumped out of my skin when Chae Rin , Seokjin’s twin sister appeared in front of me.

“Y/N, are you okay? “ She said , looking concerned as she peered at me.

“i’m fine, chae Rin ssi..” i said softly and she smiled kindly.

“i really wanted to apologize about what happened. I didn’t know that Yoongi and jiyeon had history.” she said apologetically.

i blinked, confused.

“Jiyeon?” i said surprised.

“Yes... You know, the doctor we met earlier? I didn’t know that Yoongi was engaged to her before he met you. i wouldn’t have added her to the guest list if I’d known.” she said , looking genuinely sorry and I kept a neutral face , while my heart dropped somewhere down to my knees, leaving my entire chest hollow and weak.

“that’s... that’s alright.” I said firmly. My voice was steady and even , not even betraying the sheer unadulterated pain that was coursing through my veins.

Yoongi had been engaged to marry. To a doctor.

suddenly the past two years made more sense. No wonder he hated the sight of me. i tried to conjure up an image of the woman we had met earlier. But it was impossible. We’d met so many of them and i hadn’t kept track.

i turned around and my eyes caught on yoongi’s white suit, somewhere ahead and to the left and i saw her at once. she wore a champagne colored gown with silver sequins and she looked less like a doctor and more like she’d stepped right off a ramp.

“That’s her isn’t it ?” i said softly and Chae Rin hummed.

“Yes. She just got appointed here at yoongi’s hospital. So we really couldn’t avoid inviting her.” She said breathlessly.

I watched Yoongi smile at her, wide, unrestrained. i’d never seen that smile on him. not even once.

Suddenly, the nausea that i’d held inside for the entire morning came rearing back in full force. i excused myself hastily, rushing to the nearest bathroom and emptying my stomach into one of the porcelain bowls.

i stood in front of the mirror, staring at myself.

Suddenly, the prospect of being pregnant was so unwelcome that i vomitted again.

~~~~~~~~

When Yoongi found his way back to me, Jiyeon was on his arm. i watched them walk over, looking for all intents and purpose like they belonged together ( and they did , didn’t they? They were both doctors? They had both been in love? )

i stayed perfectly still as Yoongi smiled and introduced us.

“this is my wife, Y/N.” He said brightly.

jiyeon gave me a smile that was perfectly artificial but flawless.

“You’re the lucky girl, then? “ She said softly.

I hesitated, thrown by the words which sounded condescending.

“i...yes... i am. ... “ i said, feeling somehow like it hadn’t been a compliment at all, as much as it was an observation. an assessment. A subtle ‘ so you’re the one who stole my fiance’.

“ Jiyeon’s moving to Seoul this week. She’s going to be working with me in the pediatric department of our Hospital. “ Yoongi said and there was genuine pleasure in his tone.

He was really happy about it. i felt my heart begin to pound again as a sinking feeling of despair began to take hold.

“Which reminds me. Yoongi , could i crash with you guys for a couple weeks? I need to find an apartment but the chairman wants me to jump in from tomorrow and i may not have time to look for one.” She turned to Yoongi fully, completely omitting me out of the decision and I flinched.

really? was this how it was going to be?

To his credit, Yoongi looked genuinely surprised , hesitant even as he glanced at me. There’s a bit of discomfort there, mixed with a little helplessness.

and it’s silly how familiar he looks like this. Hesitant and unsure. He’s always

it’s the look which screams , i don’t know what to say or how to say it, and over the years it’s become instinctive, for me to step in and sooth. To step in and iron out the creases that came from Yoongi’s introverted nature.

“of course you can. there’s plenty of room. We’d love to have you over.”

And only a part of that sentence is a lie.

~~~~~~~~

the next two days changed things.

it was blatantly obvious that Jiyeon wanted yoongi back. i would watch as she leaned over him at dinner, grabbed his coat for him when he was leaving , even feed him bits of meat off her own plate while he stayed glued to his laptop.

Yoongi stayed oblivious, or maybe he put on that act for my benefit. i tried prying a bit, asking him how he met her and stuff but he stayed perfectly stoic, unaffected.

He didn’t tell me that they had been engaged.

i wasn’t sure how to take it.

Maybe he didn’t want me to know because he was over her and it no longer mattered.

Maybe he didn’t want to let me know because he was still in love with her.

And later that night , lying on the bed with Yoongi so close , yet so unreachable, so untouchable, i felt miserable. i liked this. i liked being able to sleep, with my gaze on his broad back. Watching the slight rise and fall of his chest, the fall of his fringe into his forehead. The handsome, ethereal features that looked breathtaking in the moonlight.

this bit of Yoongi that was mine.

The way he slept, often curling around himself, on his left side, bent elbows cradling his head as he breathed evenly.

the way he looked stepping out of the shower, towel slung low on his sharp hips, chest glistening with stray droplets of water, fairly glowing.

the way he looked with his hair wet , the fringe falling into his eyes as he towel dried the wet strands with his beautiful surgeon fingers. Fingers that healed and made music and felt like heaven against my skin, the few times I’d been touched by him.

And more importantly, the way he had looked that night in the back seat of his Porsche, when he loomed over me , trying to control his strength as he fucked into me, gently, never with more force than necessary, eyes shut but lips wet and parted , breath hitching into pants as he made love to me.

and honestly, it had been enough.

It had been enough, somehow.

it ought not to be, but it was .

but now, here i was , at risk of losing that as well.

This could be it, the voice in my head whispered. this could be the last few times you get this. This could be the end . This thing with Yoongi. This ‘ marriage’ it could really be ending.

and i realized how badly I didn’t want it to end.

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

Perhaps it was the fact that Jiyeon was there, that made me put off taking the test. it was stupid but i really wanted to wait. i’d been looking forward to the pregnancy. Been happy but now a more terrifying prospect came into play. the thought that perhaps, Yoongi wanted to be with jiyeon instead.

it was stupid, but i couldn’t help but wonder.

it all came to a head a few days later, during dinner. Jiyeon seemed to be watching me carefully and then, just when Yoongi reached for a glass of water and poured me some, she laughed.

“Y/N, i still can’t believe you let me stay here. i mean most wives wouldn’t be so happy about an ex staying in the same house as their husband.”

Yoongi startled obviously, water sloshing from his glass all over his dinner and i flinched, more worried about him than jiyeon’s provocation.

“yoongi, are you okay?” Jiyeon leapt to her feet, grabbing a bunch of tissues and reaching out to press them against his chest and hips, where the water had spilled and my breath caught in my throat, stomach cramping uncomfortably as I gripped the edge of the table.

“ It’s all good. ” i said stupidly, looking anywhere but at Yoongi because i knew i would likely do something incredibly foolish if i did.

the rest of dinner was awkward, incredibly so, and my skin felt itchy because of how Yoongi stared at me.

But the damage was done and when i stepped into the bedroom,. I froze because yoongi was sitting on the bed, fingers fumbling with his tie, as he stared at me.

“Y/n, about what jiyeon said...”

“you don’t have to say it. You don’t have to tell me about her..”

Please don’t tell me about her, ignorance is bliss...

“ i want to. We were in med school together in London... and I was engaged to her. “

i shut my eyes, head aching.

“yoongi, i just...”

“We didn’t break up. I just want to be honest with you. We never broke up.” He said dully.

My eyes flew open, mouth going slack.

what.

WHAT.

“What does.. what does that mean...?”

“when i moved here , I promised her i would come back and marry her.”

But i got roped into marrying you instead.

The unsaid words hit me so hard that i stumbled a bit.

“Y/N..” He half stood, like he was reaching for me but i quickly moved away.

Is this what it was like to actually lose everything that ever mattered to you?

“do you.. do you still love her?” i said stupidly.

And he just looked at me.

Evenly, honestly.

“i.. i don’t know.” he said, shattering the last remaining piece of my heart.

I laughed out loud . i couldn’t stop myself. it was the single most painful thing i’d heard all night.

“i.. i understand.”

Did I?

would i ever understand?

would i ever even breathe agin....

“ Y/n ...”

“i can’t... right away. “ I said , miserably. “ i need some time to ... move out..”

Yoongi flinched.

“that’s not what i want.. Y/n.. We should talk about this and ”

I shook my head.

“Shut up. i don’t want to hear another word. i’m leaving...” I said feverishly.

before i change my mind and do something foolish and convince myself that i could stay here like this, just happy with breathing the same air as you because i can’t... i shouldn’t.. i should leave.

“I’ll take the guest bedroom.” i didn’t stick around to hear his protests.

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

I grabbed the two pregnancy tests, still unused and tossed them in the trash. there was no way i was taking those tests.

it no longer mattered, i thought stupidly. i wouldn’t take those stupid tests.

Or maybe i would. because it had been nearly two months. i hadn’t had my period./ And just because i wished it didn’t happen didn’t mean it would.

So, i’d do the normal sane thing : take the pregnancy test, realize how badly i’d fucked up, maybe get a job, become a single mom and all that ...

but only after i left him for good.

after i was safe.

You know, when there was no possibility of me grabbing on to the test and clinging to Yoongi because of a a child he may not even want. i wanted to say i was strong enough to stand my ground and not do something as pathetic as that but i wasn’t .

i was weak.

Especially when it came to Min Yoongi.

so i would leave him and his fiancee and get lost so that he could live well. And i would watch him be happy without me. accept that he was done with me.

My body jerked in pain at the thought.

I packed my clothes quickly and called my sister. For all her insitence that i leave yoongi, she still broke down when i told her i would be coming back home.

“i’m so sorry baby... he’s such an idiot..”

No, i am.

~~~~~~~~~

“ You look sick. ” jiyeon’s voice was strong and surprised.

I jumped a bit too much.

“uh.. what?” i said, stunned.

“I don’t think you’ve been eating much. ?” She said softly.

“I..” i stopped, too tired to lie. “ something like that.”

“it definitely explains how tired you’ve been. You should take some supplements and stuff. if you can’t eat...they’ll at least give you some sort of energy. It’s what i do most of the time...” She grabbed a small bottle of pills , with the name torn off.

“this.. what is this..?” i said confused.

“Just some vitamin supplements... They’ll really help.” she said genuinely and i smiled weakly.

it was odd, knowing that she wasn’t a bad person. she was only taking back what had always been hers anyway.

My husband.

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

“Do you think of the day we first met?” i said stupidly, watching Yoongi as he got ready in our bedroom. we hadn’t spoken in a week. He had worked extra shifts at the hospital.Not even coming home for dinners. whe he’d come today morning to shower and get dressed , i’d followed him in.

He hadn’t said a word.

“Y/n ...” his voice was tired. miserable.

“i remember it. i think of it, often. You told me you were okay with the marriage.... and then... on our wedding day.... You told me you would try to love me. you promised..” i said, fighting tears.

He stopped, fingers stilling midway as he knotted his tie.

“Y/n ...baby.. please just...”

“you promised you would only look at me, that you would only protect me and that you would make me happy .. you promised you would love me...... you promised! Not just before me but in front of all those people. in front of my family..in front of yours.. in front of god!”

“Y/n.... calm down..i just..”

“But you never tried!” I shouted.

it was the first time i’d raised my voice to him.

He looked stunned as he stared at me.

“and i believed you. i believed your, filthy lies.” i hissed.

“Wait... Y/n.. let’s talk about this...”

“I want a divorce.”

Part 2

#min yoongi #yoongi fics #yoongi scenarios #yoongi smut

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