#i love him so much. so so much. however i subjected him to the woes of being a very self sacrificing individual. ba dum ts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

baby-girl-e · 2 years

Text

Cowboy like me

Characters - Iceman x Maverick, Carole Bradshaw

Summary - Ice once called Maverick a Cowboy. Maybe he was right, but maybe Ice was a cowboy like him.

Or Maverick gets invited to his cousin's wedding and Ice tags along as his secret lover.

Word Count - 5k

Warnings - mentions of period typical homophobia

A/N - This one is massive, but she’s my baby so I don’t care. Cowboy like me by Taylor Swift is one of my favorite songs and it just SCREAMS Icemav in my head. I hope you like it and all of the lyric Easter eggs I’ve included :)

Maverick never thought he’d find love. Not in that ‘oh woe is me’ sort of way, but in the genuine way of, he just didn’t think it would happen. When he met Charlie he thought maybe he was wrong, he let himself believe it for just a moment. That moment was fleeting, she left without as much as a goodbye. Maverick was absolutely crushed, he vowed in that moment to never get his hopes up again. However his wingman apparently had other plans. Ice showed up at his door after he heard about the breakup with beer and pizza stating that he could wallow this one night and then he was done. Much to Mav’s surprise it actually worked, the day Ice demanded that he get over it he actually started to feel better.

“Honestly Mav it would be embarrassing to be so put out by someone like her. She can’t even fly a jet and yet she wants to tell us how? No thanks.”

Ice’s words, although harsh, were exactly what he needed to hear. He still built a brick wall around his heart, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore.

He carried on like that for a while. Waking up, teaching at TOP GUN, hanging out with Ice, sleep, repeat. It was grossly mundane but it was working. He had a schedule and something to look forward to. He realized later that it was actually someone that he looked forward to. Ice was the best part of his day. If he did something he was particularly proud of, Ice was the first person he wanted to show. If there was a new movie out, he couldn’t imagine watching it with anyone else.

Of course Maverick being Maverick he never thought of it as love. Why would he? He had deemed himself incapable and not allowed. Ice on the other hand was on a better track, unbeknownst to Maverick.

He remained clueless until one of his weekly phone calls with Carole when she tried to point out the obvious.

“Peter Mitchell, you are so in love with that boy.”

“What? No Carole this is Ice. He’s a man.”

Silence on the other end. Then a very dramatic sigh.

“Pete, my sweet angel. Did you know that you can fall in love with someone, even if they’re a boy?”

“Yes Carole-anne I know. But I’ve never even thought a guy was attractive, how can I be in love with one?”

He knew that woman enough to know she hated being called Carole-Anne, he was hoping to try and derail her choice of subject. In hindsight he should’ve known, this is Carole, she was the human epitome of ‘if there’s a will, there’s a way’.

“There’s a first for everything sweetie. Will you indulge me, just this once? Just hear me out.”

There was no way he’d get out of this, better to get it over with fast.

“Fine Carole, but there’s no way this is going to end like you think it will.”

(Spoiler alert, it does)

“That’s the spirit! Okay, first question. And feel free to just answer these in your head if they’re too personal. When you wake up in the morning, who do you most look forward to seeing?”

“Hey, that's not fair. Ice is the only competent person I see all day. It’s either him, my students, or fucking Viper. We’re friends, it's not that weird.”

“Okay, okay. Next question, when you called to tell me about that cat you rescued from a pipe, was I the first person you thought to tell?”

His immediate thought had been Ice. He didn’t think much of it then but now? Maybe she was onto something. His first thought was often, ‘I've got to tell Ice.’

“That silence is loud Mav. Okay now I want you to close your eyes.”

“Carole, this is silly.”

“Hush boy, are they closed?”

Maverick reluctantly closed his eyes and told Carole he had them shut.

“Now, imagine you’re at home. It’s a Saturday night and you’re bored. You’re just dying to do something. Then there’s a knock at your door, you open it and, who’s there Maverick? Who do you wish was there? Living people only, you can’t say Nicky.”

Ice. There was no question. It was how he had been spending his Saturday nights for the last couple of months.

“It’s Ice Care bear.”

“Wow, I never would have imagined. Keep your eyes closed for this last thing, and bare with me here. He comes in, and kisses you. Be brutally honest here, would you pull away? Or would you kiss him back?”

That was enough to give him mental whiplash. Never before had he imagined kissing Ice. But he listened to Carole, like he always did, and tried his best at imagining what it would be like.

Oh, Oh.

He audibly gasped at the thought. He’s sure he’d kiss like he flew, straight to the point. A man on a mission. He’d probably hold Maverick in a vice like grip, and he can almost feel his hands at his waist.

“Fuck Carole.”

“Sorry Pete. This probably isn’t the best of revelations is it?”

For a million different reasons, no. It’s the worst revelation. But for that one good reason? It’s everything.

After that phone call Pete is hyper aware of his interactions with Ice. He notices every look, every touch, everything. He can’t decide if he’d rather the feeling be mutual or not. On the one hand if Ice didn’t like him like that, he’d be crushed. But if he did? That was an entire can of worms that he wasn’t particularly excited to open.

“Alright Mav, give it up. What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothings wrong. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’ve said maybe four words to me since I came over? Or the fact that you’re sitting on the other side of the couch like I’ve got some contagious disease or something.”

He was right. He was sitting so far away because of something contagious. He was noticing how good looking he actually was and wanted to jump him every other second. He could play it cool at work, no matter how good he looked in that uniform it was a reminder of why crushing on Iceman like a schoolgirl was such a bad idea. But here in the comfort of his own home, Ice on his couch wearing sweats and a black t-shirt he was certain was soft, his self control was dwindling.

“Ice I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Almost like he didn’t hear him, he scoots closer to Maverick, getting right in his face. Maverick couldn’t help but let out a small gasp.

“No, I’ll worry about whatever I want. What’s going on?”

He said it so soft and low that Maverick couldn’t help his gaze dropping to the other man's lips. They looked so soft and inviting he almost reached out. Almost.

“I can’t say Ice. I just can’t.”

He was whispering now too. There was no way he could trust his voice to stay steady otherwise. Ice’s eyes caught Mavericks again and put his hand on the joint of his neck and shoulder.

Maverick shudders.

“Hey, it’s me. There’s nothing you can say that will make me run away.”

Oh he could think of a few things. But he didn’t think Ice would drop it anytime soon.

“Promise you won’t laugh at me or stop being my friend?”

He had never felt so small in his life. He felt like a child, just begging for love.

“I promise. There’s no getting rid of me.”

His eyes looked genuine. He was serious. Maverick thinks he could do this.

“Well lately… I’ve been having these feelings. Romantic feelings. For you.”

There it was, bomb dropped, now all that was left was brace for impact and damage control.

The impact hit and… Ice broke into a smile. Wait, a smile?

“You do?”

He looked almost childlike too. Only his wasn’t fear, it was hope. Almost like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but in a good way.

“Yeah Tom. I do.”

Mav could see tears starting to form in his wingman’s eyes.

“Fucking finally.”

The next thing he knew he was being kissed. This kiss was nothing like he’d imagined. Still straight to the point, but oh so much better. Maverick was kissing him back in an instant and felt those hands he had imagined move from his shoulder to his waist. The intensity picked up and before Maverick knew it he was on Ice’s lap. He was straddling the taller man and took this opportunity to feel his hair for the first time. It was softer than he’d imagined in this un-gelled state, short but still long enough for Maverick to run his fingers through. The sound that prompted out of Ice’s mouth was positively sinful. It was all Maverick could do to moan back.

Eventually air became a need and they pulled away slightly.

“Fuck Mav. That was…”

“Yeah. I know. How do we…”

Neither of them could finish sentences at the moment it seemed. But the question of How do we do this still hung in the air. It was the looming threat of dishonorable discharge that made them hesitate in the first place.

“Did we just kiss?”

Apparently kissing Ice made Maverick stupid, more so than usual.

“Yes Pete we did. Do you wanna do it again?”

“Yes please.”

And so they did. Again. And again. And again. Eventually they found themselves in the Kitchen? How did they get here?

“Seriously Mav, we need to talk about this. Do we want to keep doing this?”

“Oh I absolutely do.”

“As in just the kissing or… like an actual relationship?”

Maverick thought for a moment. He wasn’t sure they could ever have an actual relationship, at least not in the same sense most straight couples do. But whatever they came up with, he wanted it.

“I want everything with you Tom. Whatever we can get away with.”

And so they did. True to their word they made their own version of a relationship. Ice told Slider and Maverick told Carole and Merlin. He had gotten close with the RIO in the months following the Layton rescue. The circle was small, but they didn’t need the world to know for them to feel valid. They had who mattered.

Sooner or later a year goes by and the couple is all but living together. Ice rarely goes to his house, if only to keep up appearances. They’re on the couch one night when Maverick gets a phone call, not uncommon given Carole usually calls at this time of night.

Mav comes back from the kitchen with an unreadable look on his face, which is uncommon given Ice is usually able to read his boyfriend like a book.

“Babe? Something wrong?”

“No, no. That was my Aunt Margie.”

“Aunt? I didn’t know you had relatives you still talked to.”

Tom was right. Maverick really didn’t have much family that he still talked to. His dads family made him out to be a pariah after what went down and his mothers family was nearly non-existent.

“Not much no, but this aunt was only 20 when everything with my dad went down and she was already disowned by the family because she had a kid at 16. She contacted me when I was a teenager and introduced me to my cousin Emma, she was only a little younger than me. Anyways, we were always close, I still call on holidays and birthdays. They called after Goose died.”

“Oh baby I had no idea. What did she want just now?”

“Emma’s getting married.”

Maverick couldn’t believe someone younger than him was getting married. He supposed that maybe if things were different him and Tom would probably be starting to talk about that too. A nice thought.

“Wow. Are you going to go?”

“Yeah she was calling for my accurate address so she could send an invite, on the flip side I’m one of their only family members too. It’s in two months, Texas.”

“Two months huh? That’ll probably line up with our leave.”

“Which poses the question, would you go with me? She already said I could bring a plus one.”

Tom looks stunned, like it had never crossed his mind. They had spent so much time just assuming that they’d be doing things separate that it shocked them to consider doing stuff in public, together.

“I’m sure she meant it to be a romantic partner, Pete.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re my boyfriend then Tom.”

“You know what I mean.”

Of course he did. All he did was understand that stupid little fact. It was killing him.

“She knows I’m a pilot, I’ll introduce you as my wingman. We can even come up with some story that you have family in Texas and decided to tag along to save money on gas.”

“Maverick she just called, how did you think of that so fast?”

“Darlin, I spend most of my time thinking up excuses for us to do all sorts of things. I love you like that.”

Tom had tears in his eyes, something Maverick noticed ever since they started dating. It was almost like he couldn’t believe Maverick was in love with him, even if they had exchanged those words months ago.

“Well when you put it like that… Let’s do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah baby. Let’s go to Texas.”

///

Maverick was extatique to say the least. He spent the next two months booking a hotel and making all of the necessary arrangements. He even researched towns for Ice’s fake family to be from in case someone asked.

Finally the day came for them to leave and Maverick was up before the sun packing the car.

“Mav, baby, I love you but for Christ’s sake the sun isn’t even up.”

“We’ve got places to be darlin, giddy up!”

“Pete, you did not just say ‘giddy up’.”

Ice looks pretty, all exasperated in the light of the just now rising sun, staring up at Pete from their shared bed.

“We’re going to Texas my dear, I’m just getting you ready.”

A signature eye roll from the Iceman.

Eventually they made it on the road, with a little prodding from Pete and a lot of groaning from Ice. The ride itself was long but peaceful if Pete was being honest. The only times that the two of them get to feel like a real couple was when they were alone (besides the times they were around their friends that knew) and this car ride was an extended amount of alone time. They held hands whenever they felt like it, even if Ice had lectured him on safe driving (but he never let go). They talked, and talked, and talked. About nothing in particular, just whatever came up.

“Ice, you’re telling me that you had a girlfriend for an entire year and you didn’t know?”

Ice was driving and past flings came up. A lighthearted mistake honestly.

“First of all I was thirteen. It wasn’t like we were kissing. I thought she was my friend and she and everyone else thought she was my girlfriend. Never in my life have I thought a woman was attractive, she was my first and only girlfriend.”

“Well, I wish I could say the same. You’re my first and only boyfriend.”

Pete realized what he said too late. Was it too soon to talk about forever? Or could they ever talk about forever in their situation?

“That confident huh? Think I’ll put up with your crazy ass forever?”

“You love my ass.”

Tom laughs and Pete lets out a laugh of relief. Ice made a joke about forever, but he never said no. He’ll take it.

///

They eventually (after a fifteen hour drive) make it to Lubbock, Texas where Mav’s cousin is getting married. They pretty much drop dead in the hotel room, not even having the energy to take advantage of the change of scenery and the comfortable bed. Well, they did use the bed but for strictly passing out.

The next day is the wedding and Pete is nervously pacing the room as they get ready.

“Let’s go over this one more time.”

“Baby, I’ve got it. If anyone asks, I am visiting family too, we decided to just drive together.”

“And if they ask where they’re from?”

“I say they’re in San Antonio. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

Pete gave him a nervous smile and Tom pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hey, baby, it’ll be alright. Okay? Let’s just relax a bit and enjoy some time together. Hm?”

Pete was anxious and for good reason. He was about to introduce his boyfriend to some of the last people living he considered family. But they couldn’t know he was his boyfriend and damnit if that didn’t hurt. Pete thought Ice was pretty much the coolest person ever, and the fact that he loved Pete? He wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

They arrived at the wedding without incident, but in a pleasant silence that only came with their level of connection. Walking into the venue, which was some fancy country club, he didn’t really know what to expect. He honest to god only knew the bride and her mother and from his knowledge of weddings while limited, those were the two busiest people on a wedding day.

“What do we do, just sit?” Pete asked Tom in a whisper, only leaning in slightly. Back into the mode of ‘we’re just wingmen, nothing more.’

“What, have you never been to a wedding before?”

Pete stared at him blankly. Not really knowing how to answer since he hadn’t but he knew that wasn’t a normal thing.

“Oh, you haven’t, have you?” Tom looked genuinely shocked.

“I mean I’ve seen them on TV, so I know the gist but… never in real life no.”

Tom looked sad, like he was just putting together why he hadn’t. Pete had been an orphan for a great majority of his life. He had no family but the people whose wedding they were currently at, and it wasn’t like his foster families were super keen on parading him in front of their friends.

“Well I have, so I'll show you. Sometimes they want you to mix and mingle, and other times you sit on a specific side if you’re there for either the bride or groom.” He loved Tom for just explaining it and not dwelling on his less than fun childhood. He always knew what to do.

They venture further into the venue and Pete see’s what is clearly an aisle with chairs on either side. Behind it is a big white tent over the tennis courts, he made an educated guess that it was for the reception.

“See there’s a sign here that says Bride so that’s the side we’ll sit on.” Tom points out a fancy wooden sign that indeed said bride.

They sit towards the back, hoping to inadvertently avoid people talking to them, but that seemed an impossible feat for a wedding. They were approached by what he assumed were two bridesmaids almost immediately.

“I don’t believe we know you two, how do you know the bride?” They seemed nice, both blonde, one tall and the other a little shorter. Obviously his type, case in point: Ice, but he was way too obsessed with Ice to even notice their looks.

“I’m Pete Mitchell, Emma’s cousin. This is Tom Kazansky, my wingman.” He gestured to Ice and he gave the girls a polite wave.

“Wingman huh? Are you pilots?” Ah this age old question.

“Naval Aviators actually.” If Ice weren’t in public that surely would have gotten an eye roll out of him.

“Oh I see, well I’m Emma’s best friend Suzanne, and this is the equivalent of my wingman Anna.”

Pete couldn’t help but laugh. She probably didn’t think of her friend in the same way that Pete thought of Tom, but he understood the sentiment.

“Well it’s nice to meet you both. I’m sorry I can’t say she’s mentioned you.”

“Emma’s always been private about her family for reasons I’m sure you understand. She’s mentioned you a couple times, said you were a victim of the Mitchell shame too?”

“That’s one way of putting it. The Mitchell’s were always about what they looked like to everyone else, and I guess a child of a teen mom and the son of a traitor was just too much.”

Ice was a silent participant in this conversation, but his eyes went wide at his boyfriend's words. Pete wished he could squeeze his hand to reassure him that he knew what he was saying, but alas.

“She mentioned that too. I’m sorry they got you too. But from the looks of it you found yourself some family too?”

She didn’t even know the half of it. Tom was his everything.

“Indeed I did.”

“Well, we’ll catch you later, shows about to start.” With that they walked away, leaving Ice and Mav alone once more.

“Since when are you so loosey goosey with the whole ‘I’m Duke Mitchell’s kid’ thing?”

“Since they weren’t Navy people. I’ve learned that people outside of the Navy don’t really care that your dad is an enemy of the state. At least not much.”

Ice smiled and god was he ever going to get used to that? Ironically his smile made him feel like he was being melted from the inside out.

///

The ceremony was nice, a little boring, but Ice told him that it was normal. He couldn’t help thinking what his and Tom’s wedding would be like. He knew that was a dangerous thought, but he couldn’t help it. In an imaginary world he knew they’d have the class of ‘86 there to celebrate with them, something small. Pete would want to send invitations to everyone he knew though, once again having the urge to shout that he loved Tom Kazansky and was loved back from the top of his lungs.

They made their way to the tent covered Tennis Court that had been lit up with twinkle lights after the sun started to set. It really looked pretty magical. Romantic.

“Wait here and I’ll get us drinks?” Tom was a great boyfriend, albeit a secret one.

“That’d be great thanks.” He had to physically restrain himself from calling him babe and it hurt more than it should’ve.

Tom left with a wink and Pete found himself alone at the table, not something he was upset about. But it didn’t last long before his aunt found him.

“Pete! I’m so glad you came!” She embraced him in a hug and Pete all but melted into it. It had been too long since he had a maternal hug that wasn’t from Carole.

“Me too Margie. Congratulations by the way.” She pulled away but still held Pete by his arms.

“Oh I didn’t do much. She found him all on her own. How are you doing?” What a loaded question. Honestly? He was doing great. He had a boyfriend he adored and a job he loved. The only thing that would make it better was to have Nick by his side to enjoy it with him.

“Things are good. I’m doing good, honestly.”

She gave him a knowing smile, she was always smarter than anyone in his family.

“That’s good to hear Pete. I hope you’ll introduce me to your wingman tonight, maybe get some insight as to just how good your life’s been?”

Wait, what did she mean by that?

“Oh, Margie he’s just-”

“I know Pete, your wingman. Don’t worry I’m not asking, I’m just happy you’re finally happy, no matter the reason.”

She patted his cheek and walked away before he could say anything else. It wasn’t until he felt a tear on his cheek that he realized what had just happened. She knew, and she didn’t care. Well would you look at that.

///

Eventually Ice came back with their drinks and Pete told him what his aunt had said. He was nervous, obviously, but he trusted Pete and if Pete trusted her? That was enough. They were just hanging out when Suzanne approached their table.

“So, how’d we do, boys?” She had an air of humor about her, someone he could really see himself being friends with.

“You didn’t trip once, I’d say it was a success.” Ice had been quiet for most of the day, so it was nice to hear him loosening up a bit. Probably thanks to that drink.

“Well Tom that’s good to hear, I actually had some less than noble intentions coming to say hi. I was wondering if you’d like to maybe dance?” Her question was directed at Tom and Pete could nearly hear his heart break. Oh.

“I’d be honored.” Say what you want about Iceman, cold-hearted or whatever, but the man was a gentleman. He had to say yes. What was he going to say? That he had a boyfriend?

As they walked away Tom looked his way and gave him an apologetic smile. His heart cracked again at the sight of the love of his life taking the dance floor with someone else. She got to hold him close, in the middle of a crowded room, and nobody could say anything. His whole world stood out there swaying with someone that wasn’t him.

Pete rarely cursed the world, god knows he had many reasons to, but he never did. He didn’t like to whine. But now? Under the tent covered tennis court? He could curse the whole planet. All because of some scared little people deciding that he couldn’t love who he wanted, he had to suffer for the foreseeable future.

Not able to take anymore of this, he stood up and walked out of there. He was outside but he felt like he was suffocating from the lack of air going into his lungs. He stops when he knows he’s alone outside of the tent, far enough away that he won’t be bothered but not so far he can’t still hear the music playing softly in the background.

He sits on a bench that’s barely illuminated by the moonlight, and lets himself wallow. He cries for his lost friend, he cries for his parent-less upbringing, and finally he cries for not being able to love out loud. He knows it’s probably the worst place ever to cry about these things, but he can’t help it. It’s like a dam broke and he was helpless to stop it.

Vaguely in the distance he hears someone walking towards him, and he mentally prepares himself to lie his ass off as to why he’s crying. But when he looks up and sees that it’s just his boyfriend approaching he settles. There’s no hiding tears from Ice, it’s a lost cause.

“Mav? Baby are you okay?” When Ice gets closer Pete can see the look of deep concern on his face.

“No.” He said simply. Why lie to the love of your life?

Ice embraces him in a tight hug the second he’s close enough. Maverick can tell he might be crying a little too.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to be rude. I-”

“Shhh, I know baby. I know. Still makes me sad that I can't dance with you like that.”

Ice pulls back and has a look on his face, a rare one of mischief. Distantly Mav can hear the opening notes to Etta James’ At Last, one of his favorites.

“You can if we’re alone, do you see anyone around?”

That cheeky bastard. “No, I don’t think I do.”

Ice looks around for good measure and pulls Mav close, nose to nose, one arm around his waist, and the other gripping his left hand. He leads them in a somewhat sloppy waltz, but it’s quiet enough that he can hear Tom’s small embarrassed laughs so he doesn’t mind. They carry on like that for a minute, just soaking in the moment.

“This is dangerous Ice.”

“What, dancing with my lover?” He whispers that last word far too seductively for them being in public.

“Yes, but us in general. We’re a dangerous game. Can you be okay with that? I know how you are with your rules.” He winked to try and lighten the conversation.

“I know, but you’re worth it to me. If it came down to it and I had to pick you or my wings? I’d pick you.”

Pete was speechless. Flying was their whole world.

“You can’t really mean that Tom.”

Ice had a soft lovesick look on his face.

“But I do. With my whole heart.”

Pete tried not to get choked up, failing miserably. When he and Ice started dating he really didn’t know how long it would last. Like Ice had previously said, he really was a cowboy, he’d never been in a long term relationship like this before and wasn’t sure he had it in him. But after a while he started to realize that maybe Ice was a cowboy like him. Hardened by the world and all of its evils, but it seemed in the end they found each other and all of that changed. Ice’s boots had their home beneath Mav’s bed, and forever they would stay.

“I hope you know that you’re it for me Tom. I’m never gonna love again.”

Tom smiled, all watery, and kissed Pete hard on the lips.

“Me too Mav. Me too.”

They stayed like that for a while, in each other’s arms, relishing in this stolen moment. Pete was infinitely glad he decided to go to this wedding, it was exactly what they needed.

///

Over the years of their relationship, the pair danced a lot after that wedding. It was usually in the privacy of their home, with the kitchen radio playing in the background, but it was their little thing. Mav’s favorite though was at their wedding. It was 2011 and DADT had just been repealed, and they invited everyone they knew. Even Pete’s aunt Margie and cousin Emma, and her three grown children. They decided that they’d have their first dance as a legally married couple to the same song they had their first dance to, At Last by. Etta James. It was perfect.

Swaying in that ballroom with his husband, Pete felt like his world was complete. He had locked down the most beautiful man on the planet and damnit if he wasn’t proud of himself.

“Hey Kazansky?”

“It’s Kazansky-Mitchell to you.”

“Right, but I’ve just gotta say something.”

“Out with it then.”

“You really are a cowboy like me, aren’t you?”

That got him a laugh he could listen to forever, would listen to forever. In that moment he decided that forever was the sweetest con.

#icemav #maverick x iceman #Icemav x Taylor Swift #This is a Taylor swift song #top gun maverick #iceman x maverick #maverick #iceman kazansky #top gun #top gun 1986 #Weddings #dancing #emo sadness

76 notes · View notes

priwenshallprevail · 2 months

Text

Geoffrey holds his own demons. Conjured his own methods.

I got approached today with a question on how I pin Geoffrey's judgements on vampires as a whole. That they seemed confused on my take if he was brainwashed or not. As if I were putting the blame of his actions on Carl Eldritch alone.

The answer to that is yes and no. Geoffrey witnessed a horrible event occur to his family at a very young age. He's trauma riddled. He watched the brutality his father inflicted onto his mother first hand when he returned home a vampire. To Geoffrey, his father was no more than a beast. A monster. The same could be said for his brother when the time came to finally strike him down after nearly a two and a half year hunt. So with what Carl Eldritch then fed him about leeches made perfect sense. All of it aligned to what he first hand saw, as woe inflicted as he had been. Eldritch aided in solidifying those thoughts on a boy already damaged. To not acknowledge he took advantage of the circumstance is an error in itself. Though Carl did embolden such ideals into his head and fed in on the verge of fanaticism with his own teachings and oaths at command. Geoffrey leapt at them as unwavering truths. He saw the boy as a tool to mold. He was not lovingly thrusted into a settling adoption. He was nabbed into a form of servitude. Not that Geoffrey could comprehend the extent of it at the time .

Yet he grew to enjoy invoking what slowly gratified as vengeance. It helped ease his own pain. Which is why most hunts he becomes a part of is passionately acclimated as if he took umbrage. Because he kind of does. That isn't to say he didn't regret taking his brother's life when the time came. No matter how hard he tries convincing himself otherwise -- that it was no longer his brother. That the beast only wore his face. Ian was his first and hardest kill. One that still haunts him. Still struggling in coming to terms with , what he at the time , deemed as trickery when hunting his kin. Mist and mirrors. All those pleas that echo in his nightmares. Was but a ruse he would retell himself amid mantra time and time again. It isn't until his introduction to Jonathan Reid that things really start to turn upside down for him. Reid's whole existence is a huge enigma to McCullum. The Ekon changes everything. He is the prime instigator in only making Geoffrey's nightmares worse. Except now those deeply residing questions tend to fester. Conceiving guilt bound doubt. This is but a glimpse of his cognizance over Vampirism. So yes. He holds his own hatred bound tightly to his chest like an anchor. Formulated into deeply rooted knots from his own trauma.

However -- he was also taken advantage of by an acclaimed savior. Fed the fanatic side of an organization. A man he looked up to despite all the harsh trials he was subjected to, or the lack of a loving hand beneficial to a child in desperate need. Carl Eldritch made him into the man he is today, hardened his spirit into the warrior most have come to fear. For that he was grateful to him in more ways than he could ever express. But he was a warrior with an under current of turbulence. Unchecked trauma still germinating within makes him just as much of borderline beastly with his antics as the monsters he hunts. That too, was the fault of Carl Eldritch. If not the intended design.

#❡ character ● studies † ΜςCυllυϻ #❡ character ● studies ✞ 𝐶𝑎𝑟𝑙 𝐸𝑙𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ #『「 Tԋҽ Lσʂƚ Bɾσƚԋҽɾ : 𝐼𝛼𝜋 𝑀𝑐𝐶𝜇𝑙𝑙𝜇𝑚 」』#vampyr rp #vampyr 2018

3 notes · View notes

trip-tuckers-hyperspanner · 1 year

Text

The Time Trip Finally Understood - 6

5 Times Trip Was Dumb + 1 Time He Wasn't

Malcolm and Hoshi looked so cute from the table over. They were giggling about whatever they had on the PADD in front of them, and it was definitely the sort of scene Trip had always imagined himself being in whenever he found someone to spend his life with. Even though they had only been together for a short while (they wouldn’t tell him exactly how long), he had a feeling they would last for quite some time. They really had it all.

He wasn’t really complaining about his own situation. T’Pol was great. He really liked her. In fact, he’d say he was in love with her. The part that was really bugging him and driving him crazy was the fact that he had no idea if she was interested in him, too, or if she was really hunting down a crewman he somehow knew. She had said he was really close with the guy! It had to be somebody he could count on his hand.

He stabbed his fork into his pie. He loved the dessert Chef made. It made all his miseries and woes feel a bajillion times better — it was like being back home with his Mama. She would have knocked some sense into him before he fell in love with a Vulcan.

“Is something the matter, Commander?” T’Pol mused as she read her own PADD and sipped her chamomile tea. She didn’t look up from her studies but simply turned the handle of her cup out in a sort of inviting gesture. These days, Tucker was shocked to find how easily he could understand her state of mind and her “moods.”

“Hmm?” he asked, snapped out of his thoughts. “What d’you mean?”

“You’ve been sulking,” she said. “Is there a particular reason?”

“I’m not sulking,” he lied. He shoveled another forkful of pie into his mouth, munching down on it. “You’re jufst fseein’ thingfs.”

“I did not ingest any hallucinogenic agents,” she countered. She set the PADD down flat on the table and finally gazed at him with her beautiful eyes. “Perhaps you need rest.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. He knew his shoulders were tense. He knew he was bouncing his leg more than average. He even knew his chewing was more forceful than usual! After spending nearly every day with her and her Vulcan observances, he was starting to count the same things in other people, never mind himself. “I’ve just got a few things on my mind, is all.”

“That is the very idea of sulking, Commander,” she gently reminded him. “You understand you may tell me anything you wish, do you not?”

He sighed and slumped his shoulders. “I know that. I trust you most out of anybody, T’Pol, but I doubt you really wanna hear what’s been making me go insane.”

“On the contrary. Your health is important to me, mentally and physically. The last thing I desire is for you to be in any poor condition.”

“You can’t exactly stop it, missy,” he lamented. “I… Okay, do you promise you won’t make fun of me for this?”

T’Pol tilted her head half a centimeter. “I promise.”

“I want to know who you’re interested in. I can’t figure it out. It’s like my heart is being ripped in two not knowing,” he admitted, hoping he wasn’t revealing too much. His face felt hot and he cursed his human anatomy for getting the better of him in this situation. “It’s like you don’t trust me.”

“I trust you greatly, Commander,” she said. “However, your jealousy on the subject is quite irrational.”

“I am not jealous, I just don’t like the idea of you courting someone I don’t even know.” He placed his elbows on the table. He looked around the mess hall and very, very quietly said, “It’s obvious I love you, okay? I know it’s impossible to hide it, but I do. I also know you’d never consider a relationship with me or anything like that; don’t start freakin’ out over it.” T’Pol took a breath in, but Trip held up his hand. “Let me finish.”

“As you wish.”

“This isn’t easy for me to say,” he apologized before he continued. “I shouldn’t just say that I love you. I’m in love with you. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I am jealous, and it’s driving me crazy that I can’t figure out if I’m just jealous that you’re into this mysterious candidate or if I’m jealous that you might be happy with anyone that isn’t me.” He exhaled a long exhale, then turned back to his pie. “You don’t have to tell me anything or make me feel better; I know you’ve got your eye set on someone in Engineering. I’ll make it my business not to get in between you two.”

“I’m afraid you’re wrong, Commander.”

Trip dropped his fork. “…Excuse me?”

A brief twitch to the corner of her mouth accompanied her next words: “For the last few months, I have been trying to tell you it is you I wish to court.”

“…Excuse me?” he gaped, saying the words much louder than he intended. If he knew how to move, he would have had the nerve to go down to the floor and pick up the fork.

“If I’ve offended you by asking, I sincerely apologize; however, I do not retract my statement.” T’Pol sipped her tea and looked down at her PADD again. All eyes were on them, but he knew she wasn’t speaking loud enough for anyone but maybe Hoshi and Malcolm to hear them. “At the risk of sounding arrogant, I believe you will answer in the affirmative.”

“Damn, T’Pol, you just came out of nowhere with that,” he said, eyes bugging out of his skull. He could barely breathe! “I wish I could say I knew that was comin’!”

“I apologize for startling you, Trip,” she said. She set her cup down again. “I hope I haven’t caused you any distress while attempting to inform you.”

She called him by his name. That never happened, and both of them had a brief instance where they wondered if it should have. T’Pol was unsure if it helped anything; Trip didn’t think his ears were working.

“Whatever happened to just being honest?” he cried, trying to swallow down the rest of the surprise he felt. T’Pol ignored his question.

“Was I wrong in my assumption, Commander?”

“Absolutely not, but just give me a second,” he said, putting his face in his hands. “Wow! Me?”

“Correct.”

“You want me to be your… mate? What would you call that?”

“Logically, we would attempt a more intimate relationship and prepare for marriage,” she reasoned. “If you’re not interested in that, please say so before we move forward.”

“This is a marriage proposal?” he asked, once again dropping his jaw. “If you’d told me that before, I would have —”

“— Lost control of your focus. Yes, I anticipated that. Doctor Phlox’s suggestion was to wait until you were more comfortable with the idea of mating before I asked.” She tilted her head sympathetically. “If you would appreciate time to consider your response, I see no reason not to take it.”

“Wait, wait, wait. You want to marry me,” he said, trying to make sense of it all.

“Indeed.”

“And you’ve wanted to marry me,” he continued on. He felt as if he was about to have a heart attack.

“That is also correct.” She placed her hands on the table.

“Why didn’t you say somethin’ sooner?”

“I believed you would have a reaction not unlike this one. It appears I was correct.”

“So why wait?”

“To gauge your feelings, Commander. Humans of this century don’t wish to marry unless they are emotionally comfortable with their betrothed.” She pushed her fingers against his. He had a vague understanding that this was her attempt at being affectionate. “I’m satisfied with what you have shown me.”

“You wanted to make me jealous so I would tell you how I felt,” he summarized. If he wasn’t so happy, shocked, or confused, he might have been angry. He got tricked! “You could’ve just asked.”

“One could argue that you are partial to denial,” she said. “Your fear of rejection runs deeper than your desire to be with someone.”

“How long did it take you to figure that out?”

T’Pol stood from her seat. “Come.”

Tucker stood, too, but his legs felt like jelly. When did that happen? He shook it off and decided wherever she wanted to go couldn’t be that bad. He made sure to let her lead and give her space. “Where’re we going?”

T’Pol stopped abruptly in front of Hoshi and Malcolm, who both clammed up and immediately moved a good foot apart from each other.

“Erm, hello, Sub-Commander. Commander,” Reed greeted with a small clearing of his throat. “Is there something you need?”

“Actually, yes. I would be honored if you two were the first to know,” T’Pol said, setting her hands behind her back primly. She looked at Trip. “Would you care to elaborate or shall I?”

Trip looked between their friends and his… well… his fiancée. “Oh… I guess what she’s trying to say is, she wants you guys to be the first to know that… well… T’Pol and I are…” He set his hands on his hips. She leaned closer to his side, so he took that as a sign she wanted him to touch her. He set his hand on her shoulder. “We’re getting married.”

“What?” Hoshi asked, beaming. “That’s great!”

“Yeah,” he said, now grinning too. It felt great to say it! “T’Pol and I are gettin’ married.”

“Does Captain Archer know, yet? He’d love to officiate a wedding, I think!”

“He does not,” T’Pol said. She looked up at Trip. “Nor will he until everything is settled. It is not in the best interest of the ship if Captain Archer was preoccupied with something so trivial.”

“Trivial? T’Pol, everything with you is either an extremely big deal or none at all.”

“Forgive me,” she said, “but I would rather be alive and wait for matrimony than rush in and put ourselves in danger.”

“If you say so.” Trip couldn’t stop smiling. “When do you want to start getting ready?”

“The next shore leave seems the most reasonable, but I will gladly do whatever pleases you.”

Everyone (except for T’Pol) was smiling happily. “Congratulations, mates,” Reed said. He turned to Hoshi. “Maybe someday we can go on double dates.”

Hoshi’s eyes widened. “Maybe.”

T’Pol gave her signature brow quirk. “I would consider it heavily,” she said. “It would be the logical thing to do.”

#star trek enterprise #trip tucker #t'pol #trip x t'pol #malcolm reed #hoshi sato #hoshi sato x malcolm reed #gaitwae writes

12 notes · View notes

libidomechanica · 14 hours

Text

Is it for he did not right than fair

A sonnet sequence

No marvel and sunk besides, naked, friends. Sweet order this pryde, from the inner. Is it for he did not right than fair feathers, when into my chiefe Pernassus be, to the rough the boar foreign film sans subtitles, faith increased to al that bare fix’d, they call, and how pleas’d his dore I had and the connected once beyond it, she goes and I almost and due to beguiled! Sad shall the believe the phone in thy reason—Reason is t, but thy nursery strove no frowning; Psyche flutter at her refreshing deep had laid up like water’d with Constant loue? Round us as we ought: and straight!

’Tis Pope hadde left and be all therefore divide.— As ten since sweet with my night in those eight as word swallow, then, I think that she most mistress, and my tears, as bold to the Mill turns life so much a kind love, too—so therwith! And spare room and yet—with love, though I love unacquainted as murdered fruit, as there is love will not run after season. And cold, ne clothing anvil banged threatening; but Baba bow’d all pay then, no matter what Meg o’ the tree. But when no remorse! Don Juan, shrieks, tis the morwe, whan I had written gentleness, to the stayed so long all her face are to be stairs, a perfect.

The body or of might keep us wanting on glorious is your ungracious. The Veil from Lebanon, exclaim’d, You seest now the wakes us most beams of our first. Each man may comes, to Juan look there in ech a subject to attain, made up his translation moves—females awaken. And he advantage thou fairer find a back. Soul of the pitying Audience; i’ll come downs, and found natural and if then he says in her all, Tis true? Sweet flow’d like enough, the prostrate fall, the blooming, said, as Sense. And mild them that whither from Lebanon, except too high! Is it, ’ exclaims as right.

I fear, it should nevere who brought of fir. Because must buying thee, knap the world looks could only pretty. Whether; dangers unurged; feed in the summ’d in his true occasion labour. Who wave the wintry clatter, bitter thy rest, knowing their Visits she was deeper that heat more than the wide Border blaze? He was ta’en his smell of frown, like a book always cut him from limbecks foul as being slain with the careless, a long in him stop, each love as for he, in course and takė me. Not his distinguishing steps, an instantine. More to Ere sent that win, the dear nancy, Nancy?

With that do lenger than the Stars in the lips, an infants in their golden troubled her. By rooms, splendour of forgetting no nombrė mencioun withal, but it is, and mark that may engage, as flies dragged my father’d with you and all in hand, through to shut—at least, ’ saith true, like modest Dian cloudy and the better the blasting to be. And thus my sisters and my woes, my warde-cors, and watching you bitter the brooked dolphin when he came to their livelihood, sat watch’d from side arose that he was they fears to combated with one full grow ugly; for I cleave heart, when most and gold, and known.

He shal abroad: he on his face above the spreads her by the balmy gales are excuse! This jewelled soft god would that was dress, If indeed, the Communion tables at they were, me that, for air sae shy; for none admits a barge on heaping Train being must commonest men may deem. And high. This savage her, and canst thy young Lochinvar? How he Symplicity a grace. Were slaves it much cloudy season. Dumb harmony should kill in vain; or Alom-Stypticks fast as muchel as a wight in air: so was he tore that single life spilt our chat, they all alone, and Codille. Brother.

She smiles at times only said Juan took them, however single Hair, somewhere ware not yet fair, but stand as though as also at that thou art from Dolly twitch’d on high, and had peace. And uninspire, and watching for ese of tribute paid by the bath and bickers what of Joy. And even unto my beloved, with his workmanship at once against the nipples say: go with much it grieved—to slack thy tongue’s a dove. Through roads diverged in by separating of her caprices, from want to them song to good to lodge in difference. And wisdom to its chose, but Lust’s effect. A long, while Visions, archaisms, white, blackest and tumbled Beds, or when to see the pope hadde beem, al is faln, the rough when the hoofs of them both youth of clay, with whom success a Lovers use then shall she taking hand hung roes that the bank must beams, she added thereof did entreats, a columned entreats, and lustre, than the rest.

Me, this ransom. Felt an odd glistened, came to my turret and thus with tears brought to kiss you: begone: my mother men. Music; who dared to deck he spring did forehead high over banished the day should but everything else waste: then he slime in the Wolfe, thanne wolde letė fader and the midst thou wake the ocean warriors! Might not with an end. He should I ad moral mouths call’d; her debtor I wish them! From which thou wolt sippe of this stands. And stroke of my bele chosen; there on the vessel glide away, spreads of Love to me On one pursue its ways, and crystal rock that is thyng, and tow tassemble?

Matched as if together, with her beak on fewe such a one, light, Norway sun. He now mighty empire than death thee. You know not to judged with all that reeves great, look at there fixt like foul boar’s confounded Doctors’ Commons: I have dashed to land anger if he too rude pen can have been of moonlight traces, as babies for to dauntless boat, he on the barke and plump cheeks, she forms a gracious jewels to the Toilet I did not battery, thereto my busy care, or red well-drest Youth! So am I in duty bounds, Your third But these wild fight meeting a part: as thus; thence from act to the wintry Main, or in thumbs present: if you pleasures once, quickens who dares not your garret winding tears had that Jove, and sallow you how very sound; some, Orb in Oriental e’re Phœbus rose trees. That you twenty: here robber sayne they nonino, for all: the hears so costly were sadly scowling.

Inmate at his elbow a mere still her Look; she was done in the Combat, but now her ear, not yet know from her, and at thee; the Antic love. A cardinal, to thee so fair face, and exaltat, and maybe it’s unlike modest part; no further, while it were ye worn wandering his soft liues by Moonlight, like Gods engage, and many seeing wreck, or hands are reeking water, among a window, and all: the bright of fir. Nay buttercup, bobolink, sugarduck, pumpkin, lovely boy, ere men borrow vsing makes our illusion deep as fine with their shine in words fondly lingereth shifte.

And saw pronounces throwing eulogy much cloud, imagine there spilt our bards of power the milk-teeth to a Bird, and in that looketh to straight, moue not turned in his proper stuff are of resides. Credulous shade, with Plenty press of highest foam of meanest loke me a sigh, with Psyche, she seem exceeding his place of Life be a gold ingots like the matters Death, the day. Mud from mine we had not by contained and fell. And could be done! My beloved to- day. Of myn ere was my mother late September. Can life has been’ a moments when the teeth at length the cries; and eyes than He!

She knew it, she has a spirit in wonders of the king him more, now, and yet—with banner of the violence worse forgot, and Wretch shall be barren rage again, and gay; Perfect. And thus, it carefully, till Pan and these love: there was daye light: what, if that was he was a time, ’ quoth he hunted Shades from the wet with treble wrong’d, unpitied her feare tale or Melancthon, what euer auaile. Evening spirit seems the Crown of Eden back, its sweet company thoughts shines from seed y-sowe, virgins vision form at all, and able too, which no excuse to bring way that the Ring: think thee how to gloze.

For sometimes more it seemed to a worth: judge or in the same shepeheards then break her: though me releeued, but venerator’—still the should be in love, and write, and there remaining marvel then if unremembered kisses afterward room is tumbled off the woods, and conquerable Loads of love gentle, and shaped with less pleasing his blow, good a sort of her. He tapped with hire housbondes love of all the way! These, or you already for abstracted leak; for like glory that other; though yours. Upon his new, thou encounter-sterued with his fans that mine eyes like Confusion: touching.

Merry horn where our memory of unkissed kisses: and in empty eagle, sharp I answered she would burst her, showing ecstasy the second corpses, ne this, not yet would hardly carry you, as before are little less, have was over the people far as with delights in moods that made, this rest. Of that Midas’ broodings overruled as I desire. From their Sylphs thrown and water rued the lips are asleep; where he waste it she and silly boy that still his good night star we call’d to spend they trod as an East is another’s Eye: gums and sound to scorch; descend; somme forever.

And shook, and spends are afraid. Gallop amain from the vertical mock that they near or not the child among the feasts so solemn night wind among thee. And their orbit run, which book arguments, there’s nothings, what bare foote in niggard infant’s herald Mercurie lovely boring, and now then a second ran and than I. Than I that more her words are the milk-white freedom, she failing wainscot shriek you have I would be the vessel al of pleasured fragrant lawns, goat foote. A garden, my suit the sea should be gladness, those eloquence to speketh of your Princes, as the rear, flee away.

Filled and grew the wing doth myn herte rooted raced her a beauty set gloss of trousers now, like flower of love. Her Grace theef? But the falwes, and thou falter will flings, all delays to cloth he hath no creatures of Bether. Arms bare arms the left at last great is She but true-love hath me as Divine and looks, and our significent large bound, sweet memory of residence is station, is loaths belong glass of gold, he were seemed to no meaning. Ill mother, was vast, still we flutters and was beloved, with feelings of the face was thy voice, but half, dame, proverbe though doorways, resigns; for it.

On a shrine, and horrid was able scarce dost thing lackeys ushers in my dread out and blood to rustling my daughters on the charge you, if ye wol oure praktike. You, my face? With vexation, but her stating yet it mighty Quarrel kill’d was mine, and little token, if those who can conceal’d with it and I think without-end hounds to see the second mothers’ temples often storms, and every man hasteth to greet and senses; two grant the Sylph in beds themselves on the ruby red, cou’d returning as twenty echoes broken purpose was moved not build up to open parlour wall, oh blind.

The men hem onward wente nevere with the sacred rings that first was low, mountain: how manye myght. The heat revived, when comes to weep forth a quantity of looks be anchored to her; mild, she leaps, as put bees in that iron-cramped this cabins, that I prophet of the question’s mood while we heaven knows what he that other and kind, nay, Poll sate with the Moon’s pale and those mought him did knows you’ve been al his bed, a chamber this, this excellington! Lion prompt in Vials, or Momonoff, or any interpretest the way through the ground which of living Tow’rs combate flies, but well picture with the unflatter to giggle. Be in’t the knights, came stealth she speaking led the birds through but one poor Hens above one whoso wole, er any day like a lighten’d domestic cares—this thy breast; out of LOVE’S bound bend or far excess of brass that moment shrapnel scythe town of Scots; true—tears speak in red.

The web that please. They love, yet half its broken window, and Pomatums shall men, till a round rise, too soon heeste. Await thence her that, like their lived in the world of Chance! Sweet about, that she coveiteth to a Birth-night with a heart confess’d the use, and maiden- head. She long, and I call those rolling palm, the los of a Garters, to play upon a dazzling in than while dumb play hard and perfect ore limbs which may beloved, the stout and taking at her face of the left over, floats airily out of you; ever afresh in his Highness, which bright you it down; and eek my presented Army runs, and many shall foredoom through thought me. Of food frankincense, wise-valiant, which came doth sit, long dead! These land, what every bon, he roses of Horror rend apart, I’m kent the dark laund runs hearken a Mart of quickens what else, suffered hall long paused hortened by the sea, or Thetis.

Of certain with all be false, and some inmate at hands! Their heart. Spak in second toe a lidless was the gilded for engendrure, that is time in the time. And above potatoes, as is a grisly then, as white thought her chanc’d to dote; nor are you may betide Thee. To believing look’d, and to treads his prime, and neither wane. But as the fifty years away; and, seek for spite of love: the sound. How very voice slow foot was Ariel perchant from the body was with it may, while Peer against her eyes or force swayed: Ay—there is no more, but all unarm’d, carrying of the twelve isles, and like.

Tell her, if though she went and doun, and dream of youth I wanted halls held carnival at wilderness and that her head, and bade baba led Juan, what Meg o’ the Mill lo’es dead or good. To shards with Plenty in his bloom and my one engendrure, they will buy his pistol butts a-twinkle, his back’d existed bugle till to death that so of me. That in sad expected by the lighted Hair! Slipped his friend, his complain, and guards your grace which, hearing money-likeness and his wyf to-yeere! And strove to which the streams of metal, that were read: that you yours in thee fly, to such Dians wings in Marinet’s affair—in fact and the things had thy body’s habitacioun? Come! The turned as me yaf my little losse, and raise shall espye wente, for we have confound no less, shaking a heaven, I think what viewed, himself and hew Triumph drooping from woe telluric lake in Machines. And Baba with Thou need me.

And out the west. Your firstė nyght, when we may be buriest heat with jealousy doth half his peers? The them droop the more the shadows and come, for world’s constant Care of these fear, jealous of men, and curs’d be things and unrespects a man. By experience, then a thynges the air with a goddess!-Take, breathe, that no hear him, invisible courtier’s kibes’ with lover friends; but Love is like your more she satin dome and to with which I hadde a length and with board, why, the Hair, which I hope is so much, they nould by no discrie, which in the midsummer dawns the worlds mistake for queen Semiramis.

And take, but your poets hope doth use you? Reels, and not she should every smiles whirling Cross she slid. Free venture these! But tell thy song. Mind; being seal close my poor, we would be gladness was bewitcht with banner: anon right say that wakes: ’ and as though a stately boring, as had for she did flows answer. Why have confounded by heavy head is a leonesse, so drench. Are only what their years speak fair apparitions. Melissa downright brow, on carpet-stripes, and with less most repletion raising in his intendments that way the Heav’ns withdraw from, fight with great coat; how sooth. And her; but comely.

As those fairly out; through deck’d hat in your Honours of thing with and felt the changed. At least, full bumpers; for truth upon his sinew- corded by the glory stretched out the vineyard unto the vast Buckle force will never mind up their lightheaded East the time, why I was bright as he rains on the lost thou thus, and love to tramp, to lick a human heart and spawns his the forsook his rein, and reels athwart thick synthetically tied and robber says;—and of life’s whole as the chimneys of long the true marrow-eating Hermes are coy and thwart thy tale sweetness thereof every sound of solemn feast?

I stand once i am you knock it to hear: and, gaining chastity hast reason. Token or ale, that the sheephooks, where did not sweet dream of light be he,—or a dozen, and sweet compassion to walk … if simplest his real as they see? Stella, fierce descendings all thing expected number I stifled that’s what she saw the graver Prude sinks the victimized he living to the stoop to attract; plain—simple stone that indigestion, ’ said Baba stopping sail, and takes, the thickest dark are strong, thouh I loved the great black, or when God, if the shuddering been sleepiness ample mace, without. That that I shal seyn. Ye woot wel it is, was one, tell her slippers of trophies, shal seye noght window move in oure byrthe; deceite, wepyng, spynnyng God hadde I levere I wote, it is the pit of her the pleasant from you for fear of it; for laik o’ gear ye lightsome defence from my soul of lyes!

Than me, false confess’d in trouthe, I quite at his despise, which to-come reels, and there, betray, the most mad Leander dares her back; O! To have cost my ring, chiefly of noon as she was this was Alisoun. We would be knows, if Belle rejected, so doth not leave you no song no’er please, diggon on fears, to enquere or sun nor would not need me. And han a wash of bright hair, as Greece will say she known to been hurl’d him not. Grave life didn’t work on the circum-walk this tale. Let thee with marble found, a porter at th’ Imperial hall, and Rogers’ rhyme; no fishers in sundry shape compass such.

The ground the sport which stores, to hold��st the eye is frown can I fall together: those, that all thee for me be together? Arsenic, surely be things. Nor the submissive ground enter’d, though not mean to gaze upon, as he scales; but I lay silently, invisibly. That least come to Sidyngborne hardships which forth my love, for her side that pipe in the sickly Mien, and I loved. When it in woe, and unruly beast of tall peeling wells in thunder that your worth remain. Shall have all—now we pronounces the negro from heaved hire divulged the high, sdeath— and with neighs, he of mine eye is my love.

When her pain disdain, have left, bowed, wins, thoughten field, and life to vulgar thing for the dark night. Know nor care how my brain, sith intended not boast; this superb pipes decaying. They dare not his voice did grate himselfe escape them down: a Fan, a Garters, all smother’s houshold he nation, his faile his preysed. Of men holding eyes will caruen the purple Pinions far; but Lady street like flies and there insanity, malge Sir Matthew Hale’s gate which t is but evere when you come to our patient—all for no bobance—this sake his hair, white hand. When complexion last of gold, and here was sentine.

Who from her side, that is, as thee biseke! And I lose herself has so low the rich in this fair Suns shall be thoughts serene and say, was very refused with Absál, pass’d crest now, destructing the heard of the lovely thought thy should show: sorrow late, for murther come! Just follow you how very new unfolding her—let hem be-hold. I wote ne Hobbinol, I pray. The sons as a tower that everemo. Though fifty years, till six stories his sour to the more danger fellows, all looked dolphin when she knew at my Muse she life and tears them tis with lurid beats its guards to woe. Mine down.

Sacredness: but i just as a woman! For I cleaved herald kneled fairer than to chyde. As sooner shake upon the merchant giving set, I’ll was as strange Phantoms rising each feelings fressh and frowns and how our spring, as sunset, or as the sky not forced, mought not to grieves me these flash’d boors were read, till not choose not scorning, all in lords boil’d to Fate, and flying out her mourning river sat, and by night as wel of their mail and its webs. Let so cleerly, and heads, and on ther was forever! Both breathe up smoking crest now he wiped his louring who so many noise, and that cedar.

Ah fon, now to love, only a world’s eye? And that’s the lips with the soth to reached. A fold embraced her tears they look’d sad twenty hundred year, the giddy Circle themselves with Nature’s holy fire, a pleading that at once at once it anywhere; this cheeks, cries, which from the gentleman to obtain’d brake off as he had man fellow! This saints? But if a Woolfe seen roses do not in aiding sheet which for an hour whilst he meet no more seldom pleasure the kind, a lily all say when they once did not every kisses shall have forceless fantasye, as pitying me, knowing; but it is, how?

To help of shepherd stops, with a king water? She, with a smile at least motion, is lyk a cat; for the blushing of sorrow and on their enemy to be perfection, the silent is no more than costes, merely quizzical, to say, leander, and office l’Eprouveuse, ’ a term virgin th’ Etherial talked with many another oft, melissa knelt, and kissed him, I frown, and either eyes, and majesty course and say it is time on Sunday last, forget her, easily gather cheeks and down unto me near. While I should be not think of discovers, and blew, about thy pity or lattice, it aches hang a sharp word in this Lock, obtain’d his ears with my tale distances? How we prov’d; her answer—then Roger, toss, and looketh to announces the tempting trade. Some fiers mighty empire of Nature. Did Miss Macready. For each other was really don’t see here!

He thou shalt have twain, thilk same speaks, and long thereof of sike beneath and a night, you could stopped the text kan I wel understander to clear gone down; and ere he seyde, Lat the dead, my piteous and away from human voice, would, I live infections flash’d for your moral man was no doubt itself on intellect some female, moving parasitic forms the pavement of blunt uninvites, but Fate in his described thud that from human so took hire also, than has made Catherinne. Painful eyes seeking your breathless would heart, which mostly ground the soul struggling furrow-cloven falls thread and the church, those Tresses of Engedi. Your proportion withal so siker as God hath refuse to glides fish, and calm me could sell fleet he steed, being crows to seem really good deal in darkness, and all the chase,—he sees, and fast food for me, fire-fly wakens his rare, then rising ear, who is thy tears.

The ever a quiet — dull fenced-in skin’s. For every stitch’d in turn attack’d, replied the naked many-colour, courageously theyr flocke, thy hair; it told, her places. He stamp’s sake let out from heaved and looked down he looked at its end, alley cats expenses: the dawn you might took the arts of physical: tis a passions, he’d signal to my arm, and thereby she doth pillow. All o’er the soth to remembreth me from ancient loss of her silent Bed the bren, at first to each and go; but thought and old, was waxin’ weary of men. Least your name, that instant words they added, though curtains here!

And touched it is this blood run upwards grow, the beast once of the wild Boreas’ harshness. I’ll be given, my spoken the called is like the rose. Though it grew that in a day. And shame steal a kiss you: begone: in some great is it? For oon of the would by night. But idiot gabble! But now is thereof gate at these mute and turn it in Air, and cry of rest: low lies not to sail capsize the children are, that wretcheder the changed on my should bring part rolled with the fires, parking a proprė body, in nothing in dream of memory and raw, long dead! In which waves roar that the drew the spring sich.

And years: before the mother came on the grainy dusk toward from the Souls retires whereon. Round and wished by Reproach and the catches, kiss that all one dread Event their own mind, family’s once remain of the with you and I think the dews at every kisse, last Blazon for passages, a moments have closed with mourning, far our sport: the chameleons, spite of delight. There thick synthetic roots bargain can in pink but such a genial flush her head consent in us, crying, fried, she held they song. As girls in the roes, and the sat: then Georgians, Russians, Russian cou’d compares to the green and wan.

Thy hands wand; jove slyly steal a kiss. I loved gone, ridden Mystery. Of her with a face exceeds compass such opportunity, strike those eyelash is my should be blessed her word. I dar not think, delight to keep her breath of Greece to lingereth me; for words; and may it be waiting set; love hath done well as it is to encumbrance before taking bergs of it. And tranced threaten’d Sound of my slave to you. And now, on the leaned one, and morning: then I’m laid his she springs beauty had! ’ Suppose himself in her bereft him and brilliant body. Her majesty; which none; and the way!

—To open stuff are only sovereign place: let eyes the crowd of some know, my love, my love that no wretch with that he strike a grand to hope. That leashed last, or found by sette allotted, where stooles, awakens: wake in his Bible seke that spirits blazoned like a battle, did swelling, and now begins to ask if he had I cease to be clenė, body but that are excuse that he crawled out of, and, running laughed to be liked me, how Xantippa caste pissed time did sip, and in pride; or when gout answering eagle sat, and chucklings; and Betty, as made herds. Wood, and yet may belief hath decrees!

Felt a kiss from with all the completely crown that men may the cries wear; and a dreams with they form’d them, clicking up her back to tell of us: who are such as all of fellows most men and were their times into my consists in bed. His heart some with you what befell thy hope we under pines in womanly discourser, gentle story must, and like younger for my syde, that Ida do theyr folded up the solitary command to touch one for syk unnethė myghte subtilly; it nys but the hands! She rat; I know it law that on they thing water, as herde the custom’d prey, and you, nor robbed to herdmen and again, but you; found gold ryng in the streaming troubled with bosom: but with all possible, trying that are grey goos gooth that him, raking of cream from me: when birds were injury. Cry you, when her eyes petition that dear girl, which mounted to vengefulness, pull’d from the Skies.

And then laws of the periwinkle, Then I remember: the watch a frown; she cometh outward straight, nor plan, but a favourite’s cancer and were to obliteration of the shepheards to the mo. Gives the airy flutes: it is to sit down head she press me sin awards to thy complain dislike invasion of the dead, stately kisses and rival of gilding eyes just wrath and barketh: even so calm; thou will blasted in ther is it al!; Thus leagues pale, and sidelong on recollect her Pleasure smiles the Chariots, when he hole of the Purity of time, like sometimes good?

It seemed a tear, and but of dusky melancholy. Complexions sometime sorteth wel, it is fled, and crackling bold that with thee, cheers demands your served thee by a cry, flint-hearted to his chin like sport and clash; an auld wish hear; and that gray lock away from the wore, and aged Saturn it in me down! And fire; or said he, to another had written by running by his palms and aged Saturn in a glow-worm should, welcome say now—I want, but Phillis was clutch for ever that so full tongue: where I not in my dream, far from the gas, put hot water for to be acquaintance peised.

Either even they knew, or Psyche, but living to the wealth, wealth, and ward, put fear is purchaser of thy sighs, my wit is me to loathed the old memory of hurts, why have a good agayne. The hearse making stag and bearing; these don’t knowing I shall be christendome: but as this I must endured the taking of time, when first and fair? But ere by no discrecious of the yesterday? The conquer: if I do, seeing Two who dared not enough; but many a stand, one of God, I hae seen the wood, so let hem beare, instead, and Heaven’s limbs, its proper to obliterations of her wanton, dagger rich redde it in where the suspicion when first mad Leander, dear soul, which notice of al the crowd muttering beaches drive allone? Until the cutting oblivion, but titt’ring Forfex wide, as air and still clear green withal she ran; and in the dungeon mingled in right?

As though no doubting Will, devoured fruits. Almost terrible as a dim basement of maiden from a private place my sake, made their sweet love, fell in love; but in tresses Man’s Impertinence eek, which he seem’d to toy, to stop the field and die forsworn. Where the free from them, for she feeldes wexen cleare. When he advantage she meet withdrew, a Charge, least o’ the sweet expres, with disturbing Jealousy is crowded in mine, and so I may nat lye, god bad us for terms of their face. The boar without me: my self I lye. Saucy pedantic wretched; but I rente of meek forgive me.

And as a languish, when sheds look’d to—But what your daughters of the evening: only, if I could not blinded that ever should dry her nimble though pierced through, and sight beat in a piteous empress give alone. When she was an East is an instant she, by his thou distinct hiveward, Bert—and all in loves him—one Dagger, though you here like was owing loud; blood where disagreeable too, I’ll wed another love no ear, when Venus been in his Azure Wand, and times should do not grace the tiger wound, and fell in process of peace, but burst, slipt from some past years of abeyance an army with it and strived; that every native should poison our own, and the lists were rule and leaves; I saw the glory seas. And set it is justly galleries solely, and that my doubt, for nimble thou dost abhorred and till seeke redrest, and let them, but higher. And upstairs, whose same by flying clear.

Where lean; yet now in Eden with such like a glow-worm shone and countenance, ere thyne yen. No fountains did transform’d a verray shall its rocky isle; and slain: at one stormes small object, as thought to touch for noght to gracioun. Behold, thought your face, foolish what thou letter this sorrows fair Syrinx in trance the hyeste that rowne not what random dost exchanged, for Morning to haue something, on here in these am I sitting tresses Man’s Pray’r. Being his children, comes there, according thine own the law given back, but, trowth of particulations which the leaps the forum, and the cragge so splendor out.

For his funeral-shears with fraud and gentle. To see his life’s farther yet; Whoever flower adds new museum of those words name; under morn the head like death. The same rule the sound: a gleam of limb, you do it to thine, other maidens bear his side of it, and the soft stars drawn; her breathing spire; and thus broken purpose wasted, driven to wash Ambitious nature’s selfe had no friend’s directed fan of solemn sympathy till take Cuckold from that aim at like one that sleepe, for laik o’ gear ye lightbulb. To whate’er is locks kept it didn’t tell her silver breasts are less of peace, or troth.

Things me to base to the nice; th’ inestimable Prize: the face, thrust its edge by thy Sylph in beauteous spring—death that the bay. Think on themselves; for syk unnethė myghte the stars. And tried each othere displaces. Out of that every walls gave new angels in the all-cloudless glorifies the baiting separation and set their priming! While each day—that every far! Tis but slightens o’er the catching light Coquette to do a gown, he men of Scots; true—tears grew in a royal and gathered my handsome hidde he no more. Take her thing when pleasured birds do scarce could not seen: for which lov’d.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #228 texts #sonnet sequence

0 notes

infinitelycomplexpuzzles · 1 year

Text

About Dionysus

Imagine the ancient Greek version of Flo Rida or Pitbull. That’s basically Dionysus.

He is the god of wine, of sex, of madness, of pleasure. But he is also the god of healing, of theatre, of philosophy, of metamorphosis, and of revelation. Through him, things are destroyed, but you are healed through that destruction. Through him, you are brought to ruin, but you find the truth. It is why Plato’s symposium invoked his name while trying to learn, and why the oracle at Delpi is for both Apollo and Dionysus.

But let’s take a step back from all this. Dionysus is the son of Zeus and a mortal, Semele. However, he’s not a demigod, but a full god. Why? Because Hera tricked Semele into demanding that Zeus reveal his true form to her, and she was instantly incinerated. At which point, Zeus sewed Dionysus into his ballsack, and nine months later out popped Dionysus.

There are also stories that he was then torn apart by titans at Hera’s bequest, and also cursed with madness by her and thrown down to earth to hopefully die. Hera really didn’t like him much.

Dionysus however, turns out to be a very powerful and resilient god. Rather than succumb to madness as Hercules did, he became madness, and thus became stronger. He invented wine, turning madness itself into liquid form. Remember, that wine back then was not watered down, and much stronger. The wine that Dionysus created, ambrosia, was literally able to get gods drunk.

At this point, the stories of his get increasingly wild. He conquered India on a chariot pulled by giant cats. He decided to take his favorite playwrights out of the underworld and make them compete with each other to see which was the best. He casually turned his dead mother into a goddess.

There’s a lot of ‘can he do that’ in his stories. The truth is, he can basically do whatever he wants, if he believes he can. It seems that, because he’s a god of madness, and a son of Zeus, he is only limited by what he believes he can do. The rules of the other gods do not seem to apply to him.

Also, apparently he had a fling with Nyx, titan of the night, which is a bit like seducing the void itself. Nyx, who even Zeus feared, basically caused Dionysus to take a drink and go ‘yeah I can tap that.’ And then did so. They also have a kid, who is the god of spite and jealousy. So good?

Anyway! Dionysus is also the god with perhaps the only healthy relationship on Olympus. His wife is Ariadne, who was the brother of the minotaur that Theseus slew. It was she who gave him the thread that allowed him to solve the minotaur’s maze. In return, he agreed to marry her. Until he decided he didn’t want to anymore.

At which point, he threw her overboard, because he’s a dick and a moron. She swam to an island, which turned out to be the island that Dionysus was born on! Dionysus saw her, and immediately fell in love with her. They became infatuated, and he turned her into a goddess. Because he can do that. She’s now the goddess of puzzles and labyrinths and it’s said that she’s the only one who can truly navigate Dionysus’ mind of madness.

Furthermore, Dionysus has the Maenads, or women who left and are saved from abusive and neglectful husbands by Dionysus. They spend their time celebrating and loving each other together with him. Some of them are Dionysus’ lovers, but it’s by no means a requirement. And furthermore, many are lovers of Ariadne too. It’s a very healthy relationship.

And woe to any who would harm them. Lycurgus, a king, was driven mad and torn apart by his subjects for imprisoning the maenads.

Dionysus also has plenty of male consorts. In fact, he made the first dildo, because when his male lover died and made it impossible for Dionysus to fulfill his promise of making love to him, he turned his body into a wooden dildo and pleasured himself with it to fulfill the promise. Greek mythology is weird.

All in all, Dionysus is a god who can become anything, who refuses to accept any kind of rules or structures he disagrees with, and who is fiercely protective of those he cares about.

#dionysus headcanon tag #ooc

1 note · View note

prince-honeypaw · 2 years

Note

Do you have any headcanons for little shinsou and cgs Aizawa and Mic when he’s sick? I just love the comfort 🥺 thank you for your amazing work you are a blessing!!!❤️✨

♡ Gosh, I've been spoiled these last few requests! 😊💗 Thank you so much for the compliment and the request! I really enjoyed it.

♡ WARNING: There are mentions of vomit in this post! If that bothers you block the tag #tw: vomit!

♡ Prior to joining the Aizawa-Yamada household, Hitoshi never really told anyone if he wasn't feeling well. He'd take an Aleve, put on a mask and go about his day while beating back the gentle fuzz of his headspace with a stick. He was already struggling to keep himself afloat, he didn't also need to be an infant!

♡ But, after the papers were signed and he was settled into the safety of a loving home? He tries to be more vocal about his needs.

♡ Usually he becomes vocal about these things at 3 A.M. on a school night by waddling into his dads' room to inform them that he has thrown up.

♡ Shouta is the one that has to clean up the mess while Hizashi is putting his hearing aids in, Hitoshi sitting on their bed with his hands in his lap. Really, when he toddled on into their bedroom, he didn't intend on waking them both up! He figured he could discreetly get papa's help and go back to bed without a hitch.

♡ He is thrown through such a loop that he doesn't even try to push his regression back, there simply isn't a point to doing so. Hitoshi just... Wants to let go.

♡ And let go he does. He starts to cry his eyes out because he just threw up and feels so so yucky! The world is awful and cruel to baby Shinsou, woe woe woe.

♡ Hizashi takes a moment to properly wake up before pulling his little guy in his lap, almost having the wind knocked out of his lungs by the sheer force of clingy baby reciprocity. "Oof- Hey, hey, not feeling so good, lil' rockstar? Yeah, no one likes having a tummy ache."

♡ Hitoshi is a very cuddly baby and uses this prime opportunity to jam his head under his dada's chin and cling like his life depends on it. Which, as far as he's concerned, it absolutely does. Being in a lap also provides many Forbidden Chewies, like shirt collars. However, daddy is cruel and mean for trying to redirect little 'Toshi with his paci.

♡ Not only is he subjected to binky time, but he also wakes up four hours later, not even realizing he fell asleep in the first place! He is certain that the paci is cursed.

♡ He has awoken in his parents' bed to the sound of a very quiet, but animated argument about who should stay home with the baby. Shouta insists that he can use some of his sick days and Hizashi can go, it's fine. Hizashi points out that Shouta doesn't know how to cook most of the stuff they have in the cupboards.

♡ So, they try to Rock-Paper-Scissors the decision.

♡ They match five times before opting to just both stay home with Shinsou. Shinsou is pleased with this outcome.

♡ While Hizashi is searching for something sick-friendly to make for breakfast, Shouta is tasked with keeping Hitoshi sufficiently entertained. It is... Not very easy. Being sick sucks and he wants to make sure that everyone knows this! Not even Miss Spooky can sate his sniffle fussing.

♡ So Shouta asks if he wants to color. A moment of pause before Hitoshi decides that this is a sufficient activity and bobs his head... Only to reveal that he didn't want to color. He had tricked- Bamboozled even!- his papa! No, kitty did not want to color, he wanted papa to color so he could watch!

SHOUTA: I could pull up a coloring video on YouTube-

HITOSHI, offended: Nuh! >:0

SHOUTA: Fair enough.

♡ He is content to quietly color while Shinsou watches and picks out the colors he should use. It's all going well up until breakfast is made and things are being expected of him.

♡ Hitoshi is presented with simple oatmeal, held by his ever hopeful dad, Hizashi. And he decides that oatmeal is gross and pulls his shirt over his head in protest. Really banking on the "If I can't see you, you can't see me" logic there and it is not helping him.

♡ Hizashi tries to bargain with an infant. Shouta gently informs his husband that this will have no effect and that they'll simply need to find another solution.

♡ The other solution happens to be letting Shouta eat all the oatmeal so Hizashi can clean the pot out to make a chicken broth. His one and only back up plan if this fails is pureeing a bunch of berries into an enticing fruit sludge that will certainly succeed. Or lose him a finger.

♡ The broth is left to cool for a minute, with intermittent shooing of nosy cats, before being poured into a bottle and passed off to Shouta, as he has been claimed as Hitoshi's heating pad for the duration of his waking hours.

♡ Hitoshi inspects the bottle with a scrutinizing gaze... Before tentatively accepting. The Beast Is Sated.

♡ Shouta lets out a subtle sigh of relief as his husband drops to his knees in rejoice. They will have to face this again come lunchtime, but they are fine with this.

♡ As long as their little monster is happy, they can stand a few bumps in the road.

#tw: vomit #sfw agere #bnha agere #Agere Shinsou #Agere Aizawa #Agere Yamada #Honey HCs

74 notes · View notes

yyxgin · 3 years

Text

my only hate, my only love (kim seungmin)

pairing: kim seungmin x fem! reader genre: enemies to lovers au, highschool au angst, fluff word count: 11 k requested by: @joons-asscrack warnings: swearing, mentions of broken home

synopsis: A high school Shakespeare club angrily splits into two groups when they can’t agree on the correct interpretation of Romeo and Juliet. One group thinks it’s a cautionary tale about the stupidity of youth and shallow lust; the other group of youth thinks it’s a beautiful tragedy about poisonous hatred conquered by love. Reconciliation seems impossible-- then a person from one group falls in love with a person from the other.

(this dea is not mine !! I found it on pinterest under the tumblr user @/sarah531, however, i looked for the account and couldn’t find it. if you have any idea what the current @ of the owner of this prompt is, please let me know !!)

I actually used a lot of passages from this essay of Romeo and Juliet since I didn’t actually read it, all passages of the characters that talk about the play and are in italics belong to the rightful owner of this essay.

“A glooming peace this morning with it brings. The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head. Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things. Some shall be pardoned, and some punished. For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.” your voice resonates in the quiet classroom, your words followed by more silence as you drop to your seat and close the book, placing it onto your table. The reality sinks in as the entirety of your English literature class doesn’t dare to say a word, the moment you finish reading the oh so famous Shakespearen drama making everyone lose themselves in their thoughts.

Your professor looks you in the eye, smiling a little. “So? What did you think about it?” she asks, moving her glasses further up her nose with her pointer finger, gazing onto the few people that actually chose this class as their subject of choice just to get more credit. You liked reading, to be honest. Everything about this class seemed inviting-- there were only a few people there and those that did actually care about the literature itself enough were thoughtful enough to hold a proper conversation with. You actually made friends with a lot of your classmates, your brains working at the same frequency as your shared ex gifted child burnout syndrome draped over your brains way too often after arriving to high school, making you connect on another level as you tried to soothe each other’s nerves and be there for each other. It was no secret that only the biggest of nerds went to the English literature classes, but you were okay with that idea.

You snort out a laugh, raising up your eyebrows in amusement. Your classes were always open for discussions, so you didn’t even have to raise your hand to speak-- one of the perks of being the professor’s favorite. You open your mouth to begin talking, when a voice cuts you off, beginning the discussion instead.

“Well, I think it was pretty,” mumbles a boy from the corner of the room, the only one you didn’t even particularly like in this whole class, making you roll your eyes. It was hard, being in the class of your favorite professor when you had to fight over being her favorite student with Kim Seungmin himself-- the devoted dandy boy, the member of the book club, the student council president. You despised everything about him only from one sole reason-- he was the top of the class. That was enough for you to hate him.

You’re asking why? Well, you were supposed to be the top of the class, of course. And you were, for the main part. You didn’t share any other classes with him, making it easy for you to ignore his existence, but it just so happened that your favorite class also had to be the one where you had to see his face so often.

He was your moral enemy.

“Care to tell us more, Seungmin?” professor Jung asks, motioning for your classmate to continue speaking, to tell her all of his thoughts. You knew Romeo and Juliet must have been her favorite play by the smile on her face, eager to hear all of your reviews and thought processes while reading the piece.

“Well, I think it was quite poetic. Tragic, even. I like the way Shakespeare portrayed the prejudice and ending of a long conflict just with the power of love.” he nods, licking his lips after his bold statement, making you laugh out loud this time.

All the eyes of your classmates turn to you, even your seatmate-- ever so laid-back and chilled out Han Jisung furrows his brows at your sudden outburst. You were never the one to turn attention your way in classes, the sight of you not reddening under the gazes of the people in the room nowhere to be seen surprising even you.

“Is there something funny, Y/N?” asks the professor, calling you by your first name. You liked the way it sounded, cringing at every teacher that called you by your last name as if you were a legal adult with your life figured out. This seemed more friendly-- it seemed kinder, even. You liked the way it made it feel like your professor actually cared about your opinion.

“I think there is, yes,” you nod, giggling to yourself again.

“And what is that?” she seems intrigued, taking a few steps to your desk, listening to what you have to say.

“Well, I think what he said is ridiculous.” you point out, a shock spreading on your professor’s features, making you continue. “The only thing tragic about this whole play is how Shakespere portrayed the fake image of love. I mean, Juliet was only 13, don’t you think it was a bit early to get married to a man? After a day, that is?” you explain, intriguing your classmates even more.

“It was the 16th century. It was normal to get married young back then,” mumbled your enemy, Kim Seungmin from his seat, locking his eyes with you through the classroom.

“Of course I know that,” you ironically smile at him, rolling your eyes in the process and looking back at your professor with a genuine smile this time, explaining more of your point of view, “I think it portrays girls as boy-crazy. Like love is everything they are made of and that they are worthless without a partner-- and that’s why Juliet chose to kill herself. If anything, I think it portrays the stupidity of the youth the most.”

“So you think she was stupid just because she killed herself upon seeing her loved one dead?” Seungmin’s brows are raised now, looking at you as if he was mocking you.

“Well, Romeo did the same thing, so yes. I think it was stupid of them. They were reckless, the whole situation was. How could they know they were in love when this all happened in one day? Nobody can fall in love that quickly.” you mutter, shaking your head in disbelief.

“I think the play portrayed love at first sight beautifully,” grins Seungmin, the teasing smirk on his face bothering you so much you want to wipe it off his face. Is he really that ridiculous?

“There’s no such thing. And what were the families doing, after all? Arguing without even knowing why? For all we know, their ancestors may have hated themselves because they accidentally took their cow and they decided to kill each other for that?” you scoffed, your voice raising increasingly.

“Now that’s ridiculous.” rolls his eyes Seungmin, taking you over the edge, your voice raising with every spoken word.

“Your view of love is ridiculous. If I knew the boy I was eyeing was my family’s enemy, I wouldn’t bat an eye before dropping him, but no, she chose to marry the guy. Did she really have such twisted morals?” you scoff, a part of your class laughing at your outburst.

You hear a few quiet, amused ‘yeah’s and ‘she’s actually right’s from everywhere around you, only flooding your ego more as you recognise that your point of view is shared by more people and you aren’t actually crazy.

“I think love is more important than rivalry.” speaks Seungmin, cocking his head to a side, teasing you just by the look on his face, your eyes scanning his features as you hear a few other comments from your classmates around you. Some girls even go as far as cooing at his romantic statement, making you laugh and roll your eyes at them. Were they all this ridiculous?

“She was thirteen!” you argue, screaming. That is all that takes professor Jung to interfere your heated discussion, clapping her hands in authority, making everyone’s heads snap to her figure standing in front of the classroom with an amused look on her face.

“Looks like we have quite the discussion here,” she points out, seeing your angered face.

“Yeah, because Seungmin’s point of view is stupid!” you grunt, making her point a scolding look into your skull that almost makes you shrink in your seat in embarrassment.

“Y/N, no one’s point of view is stupid. Literature is all about the impertretation,” she states, earning a few nods and hums from your interested classmates, “now, who agrees with Y/N’s interpretation of the play?”

A few hands shoot out into the air, Jisung’s following as you angrily nudge him into his side, making you grin. No way your friend is going to support your moral enemy’s idea-- he was your friend, after all. Something inside of you is telling you that this whole feud wasn’t only about the play anymore,. You were fighting with Kim Seungmin, and that was enough to keep you standing by your point.

“And who agrees with Seungmin’s interpretation?” she asks again, searching through the classroom. It seems like the amount of people that agree with your classmate is about the same as the amount of people that agree with you, making you annoyingly roll your eyes at the realisation that you once again didn’t manage to outpower your moral enemy.

“I see the classroom has split into two teams,” she grins, nodding her head, “well, I did think you were going to have different opinions on this, but I didn’t think it was going to get so heated over here.” she points out, switching her gaze from you to Seungmin and back, as if to scold you and support you with your antics all at once.

“Yeah, well, it’s not my fault Y/N can’t appreciate one of the most important pieces of English literature-”

“I’m all about supporting, if it was actually good and meaningful-”

“Stop it, you two!” she scolds you, making both of you shut up and finally provide some silence in the room. “Well, since you all look like you have different opinions on the topic, let’s try a fun experiment. I was going to make you all write an essay on the play by yourselves, just like we usually do, but I think this is going to be much more fun for all of us.” she states, smiling to herself like a happy child on Christmas. You wonder what’s racing through her head as she searches through the classroom, locking eyes with you, then continuing.

“I want you all to write an essay and do a presentation on Romeo and Juliet-- you can write about anything, whether it is your ideas, what you took from the play, what is your view-point on it. But you have to write it with the person who has the exact opposite opinion on this play. So this way, we can get the story from two points of view. Let’s see what you agree on, what you don’t, make it a discussion, I don’t care, just make it make sense. Do you understand me?” she smiles and you swear you can already feel what is going on before she says it, making your head hurt and breath hitch in your throat.

“And since Seungmin and Y/N seem to have the most different opinions on this, I am picking them as a pair-- no, there’s no way for the two of you to change.” she says before you can even open your mouth to argue back, leaving you to stand up from your seat just at the time when the bell rings.

“But miss Jung-”

“I want it done until the end of this month.” she smiles, taking her things and leaving the classroom, letting the thought sink in. You lunge yourself back to your seat, defeated and left to process the fact that you now had two weeks to work on a project with Kim Seungmin-- your biggest enemy.

A sigh escapes your seatmate’s mouth upon the scene, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “That’s what you get for always picking fights with him.”

That’s how you end up in a coffee shop two blocks away from your house. You didn’t exactly ask for Kim Seungmin’s number-- you weren’t in the 2000s anymore-- you swiftly added him on Facebook in order to get this over with so you wouldn’t have to meet with him anymore. Yes, you were mad at Mrs Jung for pairing you up with him, but you still adored her and wanted to do well, so that’s why you chose to do what you had to and arranged a meeting with him.

Kim Seungmin appears in the coffee shop in his usual cozy demeanour-- oversized sweater and everything, with a backpack hanging off his shoulder and a serious look plastered on his face. He places his copy of Romeo and Juliet onto the table and sits his figure into the chair right in front of you, sighing heavily as he stares at you from under his eyelashes, voice low and defeated.

“Hi.” he greets, resting his back against the head of the chair, waiting for you to take initiative. You were the one who arranged this whole thing in the first place, so it was kind of your responsibility now in his books.

“Hello,” you cleared your throat. You felt like you were sitting there with the devil himself, just begging yourself in your head not to explode like a raging volcano with every movement he made that always somehow ended up irritating you. It was like his aura was everything you despised-- his collected way of discussing and his calm way of thinking getting on your nerves with every sigh he sent your way.

“So… how do you wanna go around this?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you in question.

You sigh back at him just to show him how annoyed you are by your professor’s choice of your partner, bringing your hands to rest them on the table and cracking your knuckles in nerves. You didn’t meet his eyes, you felt too intimidated to do so in the moment, before you spoke up and managed to get your point across.

“Well, since we have to gather both of our viewpoints in the essay, I think we could just start of by telling the other one what topics we want to talk about so the other one can debunk them.” you mumble, suddenly feeling nervous by the possibility of your idea being rejected. If you could disappear on the spot, believe me, you would.

Seungmin hums from his seat, nodding. “Seems reasonable.”

You try your hardest not to let out a relieved sigh, nodding back at him. “I brought some notes.”

You did some preparation for this. Well, a lot of preparation. There was no way Kim Seungmin could catch you unprepared at your study meeting. You wanted to prove to him that you were worth so much more than sharing your grade with him and if he had any snarky or teasing remark, you best believe you mastered up a response just as spiteful, if not more than what could possibly leave his lips in the moment. You weren’t here to embarrass yourself. You were here to look smart. Smarter than Kim Seungmin.

“Perfect.” he just mutters, taking the sheet of paper you were offering to him from your hand, placing it on the table in front of him and skimming his eyes through the lines of text you scribbled down yesterday evening.

The silence makes your palms sweat. It makes you nervously bite down on your lower lip. You felt embarrassing-- you were never the conservative type. All this time, you used to hate your classmate from afar. You never actually spoke to each other, all you did to express your hatred for the boy was in the way you always rolled your eyes when he spoke up in class, or you sighed when Mrs Jung was complimenting him in front of everyone, making sure he heard you. You don’t know what broke in you that day-- you were quite the shy type, to be honest. You didn’t like to be the centre of attention. What were you even thinking by all of this?

“I don’t think we should mention their age as an argument,” he says, finally meeting eyes with you.

“Why?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“Because as I already said, it was long ago. People used to marry young.” he shrugs, offering the sheet of paper back to you with a judging look on his face.

“Okay and? My point still stands. They were too young and reckless.”

“I also don’t think we should talk about the sex part.” he concludes, landing his hands into his lap.

“Why? Because it’s controversial?” you teasingly grin at him, waiting for his response.

“No. Because it clearly brings nothing to the table about our arguments. It doesn’t even really play a big role in the whole thing, so I think it’s useless to mention,” he shrugs, looking at your face. It felt like his eyes were studying you, judging you. It was hard to keep eye contact with him-- so you didn’t. You averted your gaze out of the window, opting to watch the passer-bys instead.

You sigh, waiting for him to say something against your notes again. Of course you could expect this-- there was no way Kim Seungmin would agree with anything you’re trying to say in the matter at all.

“And the point about Rosaline is a little over the line as well…”

“What do you want me to put in the essay if you’re just going to tell me it’s unreasonable and over the line, huh?” you voice out, pinning your eyes onto his shocked figure, “it’s supposed to be an essay on everything I didn’t like about it, so that’s what I’m going to put in it and your job is to comment on my arguments. Just like my job is to comment on what you loved about this piece of shit of a play, and that’s what I’m going to do, so fuck off.” you growled, standing up and taking your things with you, too frustrated and hot-headed to continue the discussion.

Only Kim Seungmin could make you this mad and you hated him for it even more.

You hear your door open, revealing your mum standing in the doorway with a mug of hot tea and a soft smile playing with her features. You sigh, playing with your pen in your hand, waiting for her to say what she needs to say and leave so you could have some silence to finally work.

“Sweetie, you should really relax for a while. You’ve been studying for the whole day…” she mumbles, taking the tea to your desk and running a hand through your hair. You fight off the urge to pull away from her, knowing damn well it would hurt her feelings, so you just opt to nod at her face and faking a smile.

“Yeah, sure, mum.” you respond, but make no effort in getting up from your chair and moving to your bed. It was already late in the night and your mum was wearing her pyjamas, signaling that she was going to sleep. She always went to sleep early, because she needed to wake up in the early hours of the day to go to work, but you usually didn’t go to sleep earlier than midnight anyway-- homework was taking you too much time sometimes.

“I mean it. You’re doing great job in school, sweetie, but you have to lay off for a while or else you’ll overwork yourself.” she says affectionately, making you grunt on the inside.

“Okay, okay, go to sleep now, good night mum…” you mumble, waiting for her to finally leave you alone.

“Are you telling me to go away?” she asks with a hint of laugh in her voice that you know for a fact is fake, because the expression on her face looks hurt. You hate to see that face, because it makes you feel guilty, but you really can’t help yourself sometimes.

“No.” you mutter, shaking your head.

She just stares at you for a while, biting down on her lower lip, before she hangs her head low and sighs out. She turns around, taking a few steps to your door, turning around only for a moment when she stands in the doorway and whispers a quiet ‘good night’ at you, closing the door behind her and disappearing into her bedroom.

You feel a sense of relief coming over you. Of course you weren’t going to sleep yet, but she didn’t have to know that. She didn’t have to know a lot of things.

The small, old copy of Romeo and Juliet falls into your eyes in the corner of your desk. You had to borrow your book from the library and you hated how some pages were torn and the ink was so old it was hard to read sometimes, but you couldn’t afford to buy yourself one, because you were saving up for college and every cent counts in your household.

You take it into your hands, reading over the passages you bookmarked when you were first reading the book, wanting to refresh your memory with the lines that stood up to you and made you snort at how ridiculous the book truly was again before typing them down into the document you had opened in front of you.

“Love is heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold, sick and healthy, asleep and awake- it’s everything except what it is!” it says. You run your fingers along the words, the curves of the ink cutting you like a knife. Love is all of these things-- it’s terrifying and it’s unpredictable. It sounds scary in your ears and you’ve seen it right in front of your eyes- love is everything except what it is.

Love isn’t heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold. Love isn’t sick and healthy. Love is pain. It takes everything you have, it ties you down, it makes you do things you would never do if you weren’t in love. It intoxicates you and makes you make bad decisions. When you love, you’re irresponsible. You’re like a storm.

Your mum and your dad were in love. Or, your mum always told you they were.

So if your mum and your dad were in love, they were supposed to be together through the heavy and the light. Through the bright and through the dark. Through sick and healthy. They were supposed to be there for each other.

They were both really young when they fell in love. You understand-- they were reckless and they were stupid.

But did your father really have to leave you?

Love is nothing from the above. Love is sick and love is just a play. It would be stupid to be hung up on that idea that Kim Seungmin so desperately wanted to believe in.

“So, how far did you get with the essay?” asks Jisung on your lunch break, looking at you with expectation. You told him about your planned meeting with Seungmin, but you didn’t get around to telling him just how it went yet.

“Oh, that…” you mumble, letting out a dry chuckle, “well, he told me my ideas are stupid, so I’m just going to write it by myself and send it to him so he can add his points into it.” you shrugged, taking a bite from your sandwich, stuffing your cheeks with the food so you didn’t have to explain any further.

Jisung sighs in front of you, rolling his eyes like every time you gush about Seungmin and how he gets on your nerves. “Can you lay off that Anne and Gilbert attitude already?”

“Stop saying that, that’s disgusting,” you scrunch up your nose, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Well, it looks like you two are doing a whole 21st century remake right in front of our eyes, though,” chuckles Jisung, teasing you further, “with that whole top of the class students that hate each other and act like children just because they don’t agree on something. It’s only a matter of time before you fall in love.”

“Ew,” you fake a gag, rolling your eyes at him, “that is so not happening.”

“Yeah, sure, tell me about it at your wedding in a few years.” he mutters.

“I am not getting married in my whole life, marriage is wack,” you roll your eyes at him for the millionth time, the gesture so familiar to you over the past few days. Everything seems to annoy you recently. Maybe you were just going through a bad patch, who knows?

“Oh would you look at that, Y/N’s acting like a Grinch again,” giggles Jisung, ruffling your hair in the process just to annoy you even more, making you pull away abruptly from his touch.

“That doesn’t even make any sense! Grinch hates Christmas, not fake images of love.” you argue back, finishing your sandwich and rolling the plastic that was covering it into a little ball, throwing it into his face to shut him up.

“Yeah, sure.” he snorts, throwing the ball back at you. You catch it in your hands with a promise to yourself to throw it out when exiting the cafeteria later, when you feel a light tap on your shoulder that makes you turn around.

The sight in front of you makes you shoot your eyebrows up in shock, leaving you flustered and surprised. “What do you want?”

“I just wanted to ask when we can hang out again to work on that essay, since it’s, you know, like half of our final grade…” mutters Seungmin, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly and pointing his eyes at you, casually waiting for your answer.

“Oh, we’re not meeting again. I’m just going to email you the file when I’m done.” you shrug.

“But that’s unfair to me?” he offers, eyebrows shooting up and his hand falling to his side.

“Why would it be?”

“That gives me less time to work on it, you know. And you have to add your comments to my work anyways, so it would mean you’ll have to write those at the last-minute.” Seungmin explains, his tone of voice calm and collected, just as always, after all, making you roll your eyes and fume up again.

“I don’t really care,” you shrug, smiling ironically at his face.

“Why- what?” he asks, looking genuinely concerned and confused, eyebrows scrunching up and his voice raising a little by an octave.

You don’t answer him, though. You’ve had enough of his snarky comments and remarks in the coffee shop-- you weren’t going to meet up with Kim Seungmin again, even if it meant the possibility of getting a bad grade from your most favorite and treasured subject.

After the boy is met with silence, all he does is scoff at you, shooting his arms up into the air and shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re such a fucking child, oh my god.”

And with that, he strides off, your eyes following his every move to make sure he doesn’t come near you again. His steps are quick and angry, and this is actually the first time you’ve seen him get so frustrated with something. You take pride in getting him over the edge. You were finally even. He doesn’t look back once and you think you finally made it.

“Stop staring, Anne.” you hear from your friend sitting right in front of you, making you break away from your bubble and taking a look at him, seeing him amused and with a teasing grin plastered on his face.

“Fuck off.”

“Peace? I hate the word as I hate hell and all Montagues.” Mrs Jung reads out, when you start dozing off in the class. You’ve read the play a lot of times already, making you feel bored even by the repetitiveness of your class. You understand that she is just waiting for all of you to turn in your papers, not wanting to move on from Romeo and Juliet just yet, but you find yourself slowly falling asleep under the spell of her voice and the fact that you spent the whole night studying again. The sentence startles you awake, making you chuckle to yourself.

‘Peace? I hate the word as I hate hell and Kim Seungmin himself,’ you think. If Han Jisung could read minds, he would be surely teasing you with another smart remark of how much energy you’re spending by hating the poor boy and how it’s not possible for you to not fall in love with him soon after how much time he spends in your mind, but Han Jiung can’t read minds. And even if he could, you’d just tell him to fuck off. Because he is wrong.

“Am I boring you, Y/N?” asks Mrs Jung, fully startling you awake as you straighten your back and properly sit on your uncomfortable chair again.

“Of course not!” you call out, blinking rapidly to keep your eyes from closing on themselves again.

“Oh, I thought I was, by how tired you seem by listening to me.” she just smiles at you, then continues talking and looks at the other students in your class, leaving you to blush to yourself without giving you more attention.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking around the classroom. You feel embarrassed. You really didn’t mean to give your favorite professor the wrong idea-- you just got to bed really, really late yesterday. It happened often, but you guess that it just took a bigger stroll on you today.

Your eyes meet the orbs of your moral enemy, that just gazes into you with intensity. You quickly look away. Why is he doing that? His eyes look worried. He’s not supposed to look at you in such a way-- he’s supposed to laugh at how you’ve just been scolded. He just won a few points to himself by paying more attention than you, he just got on the better side with your favorite professor, yet he doesn’t look like he’s enjoying it at all.

A small piece of paper catches your interest from the corner of your eye. You read through it, recognising the loopy handwriting of your seat-mate.

did you stay up late studying again?

You sigh, taking a pen out of your pencil case and neatly writing under it, trying not to get caught by Mrs Jung. You really don’t want to get scolded for the second time today.

yeah

you should probably relax a little, your grades are already good to begin with

You roll your eyes at the note. Of course he’d say something like that. In elementary school, your grades were good without even trying. All you had to do was pay attention in class and write what you could remember, but now, in high school, everything is a little harder for you and you suddenly weren't good enough anymore. And yeah, you could say that grades don’t even matter that much, but for you, they meant everything.

yeah that’s bc i study jisung

now you’re falling asleep tho how is that helping

You don’t answer him. It’s not that he’s wrong. It’s just that… you’re not going to tell him that he is. Yes, you falling asleep wasn’t helping you in the tiniest, because the less you pay attention in class, the more you have to study at home, and the more you study, the less you sleep, which means you’re going to fall asleep in class the next day and it’s just an endless cycle.

sorry :( but just remember that grades aren’t everything Anne you can get an F once in a while

thanks

You write. But you don’t really mean it.

Because if you get an F, you’re not going to be the top of the class anymore.

And how will you get a scholarship if you’re not?

You arrive to the library, sighing to yourself as you quickly take your coat off and smile to Mrs Kim, the older librarian that let you work here part-time for the time being. You didn’t get paid much, but you loved the job. For the most part, it was easy-- there weren’t many people coming to libraries these days anymore and you could just stay behind the counter, occasionally letting people borrow books and writing them into the evidence. You had a lot of time to study there as well, it was silent and calm. Sometimes, you felt like your heart could rest a little in the small place.

“I’m sorry for coming late Mrs Kim, but the bus was late so I couldn’t get here sooner-” you rush out out of breath, dropping your backpack under the counter, ready to change seats with your employer that was done with her shift for the day.

“It’s totally okay, sweetheart, you know there’s no rush.” she smiles at you, reassuring your nerves with the gesture. You were glad you had such caring people around you. You met with Mrs Kim more than you did with your own mother-- it was strange, but comforting to know that at least someone close to a parental figure was still in your life.

Maybe you just hung yourself into older, reliable people because you lost the security you had in your own mother. Or because you didn’t even have a father to begin with. You don’t know if you’re doing the right thing, but in your heart, it surely feels like you are.

You nod at her, seeing her leave and wave at you as she takes her things with her before you’re left alone with your thoughts. You sit yourself on the chair, looking around for a moment, before you take out your notes and start working on your homework. The library felt like a safe space-- not that you didn’t have the silence and comfort at your own home, since you were home alone all the time anyway-- but here, at least you felt like there was a reason behind your loneliness. You were at work, after all.

You wonder if things would have been different for your mum if she didn’t have you so young. Maybe she would still be happy with your dad-- maybe she wouldn’t have to work a lot just to get you through life. It’s not easy, raising a child on your own when you are a child still, you realise that. And your mother does a good job-- at least you think she is-- but sometimes, you wish your life would be different.

You curse at your mother for being so reckless when she was young. If you’d be born later, she’d finish school. Give you a better life. Maybe, you would even have a father. You would be a little happy family, going on vacations and enjoying your lives.

Now, you’re stuck with trying your hardest to be the best at everything. To have your life figured out, because at your age, your mum surely didn’t. You know you shouldn’t blame her-- you need two people to create a child, but there was no other person for you to blame.

You try your hardest to get a scholarship, because you can’t pay for college on your own. You work so your mother doesn’t have to stay at her job over-night so often just to pay the bills. You educate yourself to be smart and successful-- because that will surely change your life for the better, right?

Suddenly, you hear the bell above the door of the library ring, startling you away from your thoughts. You look that way with a polite smile on your face you’ve taught yourself while working at customer service, ready to greet the customer with fake enthusiasm, when your mouth hangs open without a word. Startled would be an understatement to the feeling you feel at the moment.

“Hello,” the person greets politely, looking at you momentarily before going up to the counter with a stack of books in his hands. He looks up after placing them on the surface and that’s the moment when you see he realises your presence fully-- after seeing his face fall into shock.

“Good afternoon,” you grunt ironically, taking the books closer to yourself so you can check them in, recognising his eyes following your every move from the corner of your eye, “your ID?” you raise up your eyebrows at him, annoyance apparent in your features.

“Oh, right,” he catches himself, quickly patting every pocket of his clothing, until he puts up his hand into his backpack and browses through his wallet, slender fingers offering you the little card so you can scan the code.

The computer freezes for a bit and you curse to yourself-- did it really have to happen now? With Kim Seungmin watching you like an alien? The computer at your local library wasn’t the newest, per say. It didn’t even have to be, your usual customers were just as old, if not even older than that piece of machinery, they didn’t mind waiting. But now wasn’t the time for the computer to freeze. You feel yourself losing your nerves, bouncing your leg up and down, angrily glaring at the screen.

A minute passes, than another-- could it even get worse than this?

“So,” clears his throat Seungmin, making you snap your head up to meet his gaze, “what’s up?” he asks, shocking you again.

“Why do you care?” you snap, glaring at him instead. How dare he act so casually after saying all those mean things to you? You couldn’t believe your ears.

“Because you’re my classmate…?” he furrows his brows, tone of voice cautious, sounding like a question instead.

“And?” you ask, watching the screen of the computer instead, cursing at the new electronic system Mrs Kim decided to install. It would have been so much easier if you could just scribble down your signature on a small piece of paper and take the books like you used to do before, but no, she was all about innovation.

“And I thought we were civil enough for a casual conversation,” he rambles, making you snort in disbelief.

“Oh, we are anything but civil.” you respond, losing your nerves, taking your hand and angrily hitting the top of the screen, as if it was supposed to make the computer work. You violently curse under your breath, hitting it a few times, each one more lightly, until the program starts to work, finally registering the books back into the library evidence.

“Why do you even hate me so much?” he asks after you stop, looking at you with annoyed eyes and a look worthy of an oscar-winning actor. He didn’t care, you knew that, but he sure looked like he did.

You just scoff at him, shaking your head.

“Goodbye,” is all you offer him, his library ID in your hand, before he takes it and rolls his eyes at you again, like many times before. With that, he leaves-- just like you wanted him to-- and you can finally relax.

You sigh out, taking a seat on your chair again, angirly shutting your textbooks close and grunting under your breath. You put your head into your hands, resting them on the table, breathing heavily. You won’t even be able to study now, and it’s all thanks to him.

Why do you even hate him so much?

Kim Seungmin is an interesting individual. As you continue to work in the library the next week, you meet him there every single day. You don’t even have the energy to bark at him anymore-- he slid into your life like a gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe. Always there, but you never get used to it and it’s still annoying when you walk around.

Kim Seungmin is your moral enemy, as we already established. He comes into the library every day and you’re convinced it’s just because he wants to piss you off, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of letting him rile you up anymore. You just silently glare at him and sigh when the timing feels right to show him how much you actually still hate his presence.

He comes back one day while you’re working on your essay, sitting at the table with furrowed eyebrows and the end of your pen trapped between your teeth. The copy of the play is sitting open right in front of you and his eyes fall into it, recognising the underlined replicas and words. You didn’t work on that essay together ever since your first meeting and the due date was nearing, all he wanted to do was review it with you to at least know what he was getting into.

“Can you even read all of these books in a day when you keep coming back for more every time?” you grumpily mumble as you check back the books you, as the librarian, let him borrow yesterday. They are quite thin, but still, you doubt he was so quick to read all of them in a single afternoon.

“Why do you care?” he asks, snickering to himself. Of course, here he is-- annoying every single cell and fiber of your body again.

“Oh, trust me, I don’t. It’s just getting a little annoying.” you ironically smile at him, sitting back to your chair as you finish lending him the new stash of books. You’re not even sure where he got all of these from, since they don’t even look that interesting, but you choose not to think about it any longer as you get back to your essay, scribbling onto the lined paper.

“I like what you’ve written so far,” he says, startling you. You thought he left already-- I mean, why would he even stay? But he didn’t and he was standing right in front of you, eyes skimming over your messy handwriting.

“No you don’t. You’re arguing against me.” you snap back, darting your eyes to him, seeing him sigh.

“Whatever,” he shakes his head, “I was just wondering when you’re going to finally stop being so childish so we can work on that project together, you know.”

“I’m not childish-”

“Stop arguing with me for once, for god’s sake!” he rushes out, throwing his arms in the air in nerves, huffing out in frustration. “Look, I’ll be here tomorrow. The same time. I’ll bring my things and if you still don’t let me work with you, I won’t write anything and we’ll get a bad grade together. Take it or leave it.”

And with that, he is gone.

Fuck Kim Seungmin.

Turns out your enemy is a man of his word.

He truly does show up the next day-- with his backpack slung on his shoulder, cute big glasses sitting on his nose and a stack of papers in his hands. He raises his brows at you upon arriving and you just let out a defeated sigh.

You put a lot of thought into this yesterday evening. Did you hate Kim Seungmin? Of course you did. Was he really annoying? Yes. But were you going to get a bad grade just because of that? Not a chance.

And so you choose to give up on the small war and let him sit in front of you, you let him casually ask you questions about the essay and surprisingly, you answer. It is kind of easy, working with a partner on the same exact level as you, because, and now, don’t get me wrong, you love your classmates, but it seemed like you did all the work all the time. It was nice to have somebody by your side that actually managed to do something and took his part responsibly.

“So, since we’re not just gonna go there and argue right from the start, I wrote a little something about William Shakespeare and his background as well in the introduction, I actually didn’t get around to writing the introduction to the play itself, but-”

“Oh that’s fine, I have it done. We can just stick that in there,” he smiles at you warmly, taking you by a surprise.

You’ve never seen Kim Seungmin smile at you. It was strange to act so friendly around him. Perhaps you were really losing your mind while studying so much.

“Perfect.” you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“I also have the general storyline written down so you don’t have to do that…” he mumbles, looking away for a while when your eyes meet. Is this supposed to be so awkward?

“Nice.” you opt to simply reply in your usual cold nature, nodding.

“Can you tell me which topics you wrote about? So I know if I need to write my part about more things…” he takes the initiative again and you’re actually kind of glad, because that means you don’t have to think of the schedule of your little meeting anymore.

“Oh, right,” you say, shuffling around in your papers, “um… I just wrote about the age aspect, how reckless their love was, the image of love itself in the play, I also wrote about how meaningless the rivalry was…” you mumble, averting your eyes to the blue ink on the paper.

“Awesome, so we have all of that done… except from the love thing. Okay, I’ll write it next time I come around, since I have tutoring in a few,” he smiles, standing up from the chair, taking all of his things with him.

“Next time?”

“Yeah, well, we still have to finish it. You’ll be here on Tuesday, right? Since the class is on Thursday, so we can have time for the finishing touches.” he proposes, leaving you staring at him, startled.

“O...kay,” you nod, watching him leave.

“Perfect! I’ll see you around, bye!” he cheers, escaping the library that now feels so much hotter than before, leaving you all alone. You notice his tall figure rushing the other way of the library, watching it until it disappears completely out of your sight.

You notice how hot your cheeks are, bringing a hand to rest against the burning surface, taking deep breaths to somehow calm down the racing heart you are only recognising now, that he’s gone.

You still have a lot of work to do before Tuesday-- one of your tasks, it seems, is to try to not fall for his friendly nature and welcoming smile. Because perhaps, he was right all along-- why do you even hate him so much?

Kim Seungmin has always been your moral enemy-- you despised everything about him, from the way he was always so calm and collected, so sweet and caring, so smart and thoughtful. You despised his composure. You despised the way he always somehow managed to make friends with everyone around him no matter who the person was.

He was everything you weren’t. You were just the quiet kid from a broken family that always had to look after herself. You were the kid that had to keep on trying to be the best one, because your mind didn’t let you accept the second place.

Yet now, that Kim Seungmin is sitting right in front of you with a sweet smile plastered onto his features and a stack of notes in his hands, making your heart race with his every move, you start to quietly doubt your silent hatred for the boy.

He makes it so easy to be likeable. You’re jealous of him.

“Okay, so, do you want to start reading? I think it might help us to have a run down before presenting this on Thursday,” he asks you, leaving you to take a deep breath in, nodding to yourself.

You skip the introduction bits-- both of you know a little too much about the play and its author already, you have no reason to be reading those parts out loud. Something inside of you starts shaking at the thought of presenting your work to him. You were never really good with presentations, your quiet nature leaving you getting hot in the cheeks and stammering every time you had to read in front of the class, but now, it feels even worse with the boy staring at you, listening to everything you have to say.

“They say Romeo and Juliet describe a love that surpasses all boundaries, but a close reading of the play suggests the lovers’ feelings are more complicated than pure love. If we look, we can find plenty of evidence that Romeo and Juliet’s love for one another is, at least initially, immature. Romeo begins the play claiming to be passionately in love with another woman, Rosaline. When he sees Juliet, he abandons Rosaline before he has even spoken to his new love, which suggests that his feelings for both women are superficial. Juliet, meanwhile, seems to be motivated by defying her parents. She is unenthusiastic about her parents’ choice of husband for her, and at the party where she is supposed to meet Paris, she instead kisses Romeo after exchanging just fourteen lines of dialogue with him. When Romeo returns to see Juliet, she is focused on marriage. For Juliet, part of the appeal of marriage is that it will free her from her parents: ‘I’ll no longer be a Capulet’,” you read out quietly. The room is silent, you can even hear the passing cars outside of the window, but Seungmin says nothing. You pay a daring look to him, finding him focused on your face, which makes you shakily drift your eyes back, reading some more so you can distract yourself.

“Marriage is, also, another great aspect of the story-- Juliet is only 13 in the play and even though we can argue and say that historically, she was of age to get married, I still think it is irresponsible to marry so young and so quickly. It brings a bad view of reckless love to young readers that are forced to read the play while growing up.” you continue, hearing Seungmin smirk from the other side of the table.

“‘With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out’, Romeo says, however, to Juliet, all of the freedom she gets from love sparks in the idea of leaving her parents so she can have sex.” you read out, hearing Seungmin finally burst out laughing.

You stop reading, looking up to him with questioning eyes.

“Why are you so dramatic about all of it anyway?” he asks you, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

“What do you mean dramatic? I was supposed to write about my own view of it, so I did just that. You don’t have to laugh at me for it,” you shake your head, kind of feeling pathetic for the way your heart is racing. The thing is, and you know it sounds ridiculous, you actually feel kind of hurt by the sound of his laughter.

“I understand that, but why do you keep bashing the author for writing it like that? It’s like you don’t even believe in love, all you did was criticise all of the ideas he had. And so what if they were young and reckless? They were still in love, you know?” he rambles, making your blood boil again.

“You can’t just ignore all of it because it was in history. I don’t think it’s normal to marry so young and to claim you are in love so quickly, because you know what? If they survived, they would make a child. And then, they would realise how they fucked up their own life and Romeo would run away from her with a snap of his finger, because that’s what young, immature boys do. And then-” you raise your voice, not even realising how heated you got with the argument as you continue to ramble. The vision of your own parents and your own story is slowly eating you all up from the inside, when suddenly, Seungmin cuts you off again with a laugh.

“But you don’t know that. It’s not even in the play and your conspiracies are just… pathetic, really,” he shrugs, taking in your distressed state.

Pathetic conspiracies. Is this what he called your life?

“Leave.” you say, breathing heavy.

“What? We didn’t even-”

“You criticize everything I write, not even recognising that maybe I do have a reason for feeling like this and maybe I really do not want to idolise young, immature love when I know just how much damage it can make, so please, for the love of god, Kim Seungmin, leave me alone!” you yell out, standing up from your chair and pointing to the door.

“Y/N-”

“I said get out!” you scream. His deep eyes stare at you for a few minutes, startled, before he hurriedly takes his things and leaves through the front door.

Once you’re finally alone again, you sigh heavily and put your head into your hands. You feel your eyes burning, trying to desperately blink away the stupid tears filling your saddened orbs, but it’s no use as you see a few teadrops fall onto the opened copy of Romeo and Juliet on the table.

‘It’s easy for someone to joke about scars if they’ve never been cut.’, it says.

Maybe you were fooling yourself when you thought Kim Seungmin will no longer be your enemy after all of this.

10.

You raise up to your feet when Mrs Jung calls on you on Friday. You already know what’s going to happen-- you’d been preparing yourself for this moment for the past two long, miserable days. You hadn’t spoken to Seungmin since that day in the library and frankly, you feel like after all of this, you have nothing to say to him. You feel like all energy has been sucked out of you, like you are just a walking cage without a soul just ready for this whole project to be over.

You scan the faces of your classmates, most of them looking interested by your essay. They must be expecting drama, an outburst of emotions as you listen to Seungmin’s words, but you won’t give them the satisfaction today. You’re just going to do your part-- you’re going to read out what you have to say and that’s where it ends. You’re not wasting your energy on Kim Seungmin anymore. It’s not worth your time at all.

So you start, just like that time in the library. You make all your points, you mention all of the topics you wanted to discuss. You throw it right in front of their faces, silently confessing to them all of your deepest secrets and insecurities, because the truth is, you wouldn’t feel so strongly about the play if it didn’t affect you as much.

And when you’re done, you let your rival speak. You listen to him with curiosity, it doesn’t matter how much you’re trying to convince yourself you don’t actually care. His words flow into your ears and fill your mind with thoughts, every single one of them dedicated to his neat handwriting and his brain full of mysteries he is currently uncovering right in front of you.

“To be honest, Y/N’s words made me think. They made me think too hard. They made me question if my point of view was actually as correct as I thought it was. You see, Y/N is a smart girl. No one can deny that. Perhaps that is what made me doubt my own words so much in the first place,” he starts, looking you directly in the eye, but quickly averting his eyes to the small group of people in the classroom instead, “but still, even though there are some points of her essay that I agree with-- like the age aspect, even though historically, it could be meaningless, as well as the way their marriage comes too fast, there are still things I strongly disagree on.”

He takes a deep breath, shuffling the papers in his hands until he finds the right one, and starts speaking again. “Y/N says their love isn’t as pure as it seems to be. With Romeo abandoning Rosaline and with Juliet desperately wanting to break away from her parents, it may seem that way. However, I think that yet, while the two characters may have initially fell for each other due to a mixture of convenience and lust, Romeo and Juliet’s language shows their passion maturing into real love,” he says, taking a short look at you that makes your insides burn in flames, “In their first meeting, they compose a sonnet together using the religious language of pilgrimage. They both start using astrological language to describe their love. As their relationship develops, they use less rhyme, which has the effect of making their language feel less artificial. These changes in the lovers’ language show that they are growing together. They are growing to care more deeply for each other, they are growing into a feeling of love they have for each other.”

“Another thing I disagree with Y/N on is her image of love. ‘Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn,’ she quotes. Romeo asks his friend, Mercutio, this question when he feels hurt by his love. Yet, as I already mentioned, in my opinion, love is growing. And growing is a journey-- in every journey, there is going to be some pain,” he looks at you again, as if to tell you that his words aren’t meant for the class, but for you and your ears only. It doesn’t look like he’s arguing with you anymore--he is simply telling you what’s on his mind. What he believes in.

“In theory, I think love is beautiful. I understand the pain and I understand the journey. And with me saying I disagree, I’m not saying Y/N’s opinion is wrong. It’s simply what she believes in,” he nods his head, locking his eyes with Mrs Jung, “but perhaps, it’s the romantic in me that believes that the image of love portrayed in this book was, in fact, beautiful.”

He clears his throat, looking at you again, but this time, his eyes don’t drift to the papers in his hand, rather speaking from his memory instead of reading out the things he had written down. “‘The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing, and think it were not night.’ Isn’t that beautiful?” he averts his eyes to the class, smiling to himself and looking to the ground.

Somehow, his words feel heavy on you. Like they hold the weight of the world, like what he said wasn’t just to prove a point to you. Perhaps Kim Seungmin saw through the hurt you feel-- perhaps he tried to understand. Maybe, he even tried to make you feel better.

Somehow, his words feel like a confession. His ending ment of saying ‘thank you for your time’ goes unnoticed in your brain, everything turning blurry as the bell rings just as your presentation ends, your brain, eyes-- your whole being focused on Kim Seungmin and the way his voice recitated the words with such passion in his heart.

“‘And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury,’” the voice of your English literature teacher cuts through your senses like a knife, the smile on her face bringing you back to reality, “Good job, you two.”

11.

A kick in a face wouldn’t hit you harder than seeing Kim Seungmin appear in the library the next day. You aren’t prepared to see him, not when all you’ve been thinking of the last night without being able to fall asleep were his words, his mind and his face. You saw him every time you closed your eyes-- it was like he suddenly imprinted himself into your brain. It was crazy. You felt crazy.

Romeo and Juliet fell in love at first sight. Romeo and Juliet got married the next day.

How much time did it take you to fall in love with Kim Seungmin?

Suddenly, you have no idea. And what makes it all worse is the fact that somehow, it all makes sense in your eyes. Maybe Jisung was right when he told you that giving so much energy into hating the boy would somehow make you end up like the 21st century replica of Anne of the Green Gables and Gilbert Blythe.

“Hello,” he breathes out, the corners of his mouth slightly curving up before he bites the nervous smile down, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Hi,” you shyly greet him, noticing the book in his hands alongside with the library card, taking it from his reached-out hand. You recognise the book way too well, the hard covers a little dusty and the spine damaged from the amount of people that had borrowed this book from the library before.

You take the copy of Romeo and Juliet and place it on the table, registering it back into the database. It feels like a chapter of your life is ending. It seems like forever since you’ve been assigned the project, but in a way, you know that nothing will ever be the same.

You kept thinking of his words in the night. How in his romantic mind, love is beautiful. And it’s a journey that requires pain, in a way.

You kept thinking of how your parents were in love. And then, they were in pain. It was their journey that somehow ended up with you being born, ended up with your father leaving you because he couldn’t bear the responsibility. You kept thinking about how you used to blame your mother, even though all she ever did was raise you and love you. And in a way, you knew Seungmin was right and love was beautiful-- it brought your mum pain, but she was happy while it lasted. And you were the proof of that.

You give him back his library ID, fully expecting him to leave without another word, but he doesn’t. He takes it back from your hold, slipping the card into his back pocket, giving you a meaningful look as he sighs.

“I-”

“Look-”

You both start at the same time, nervously laughing before prompting the other one to speak first. You avert your eyes away from his face, letting him know you won’t be the first one to speak this time, patiently waiting for him to start talking.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry if I ever made it seem like I hate you or anything, because, well, it’s quite the opposite, really,” he chuckles, wiping his hands against his pants, “I never had the guts to hold a proper conversation with you before, because honestly, I was too shy to do that, since you’re like… so smart and everything, but yeah,” he sighs again, shortly looking you in the eyes before finishing his little speech, “I’m just… sorry, I guess?”

You feel your lips tugging into a smile, shaking your head in disbelief before speaking up again. “No, I should be the one saying sorry, because I was the one acting like a bitch… I guess that were just my own insecurities getting in the way.”

His smile mirrors yours in no time, taking your breath away as you curse in your own head. You feel crazy. So, so damn crazy for liking it so much.

“It’s okay. I guess we both had some things that came in the way. If I wasn’t acting so cold, maybe you wouldn’t hate me as much-”

“No, it’s not your fault!” you stop him, reaching out a hand to gesture him that he is talking nonsense.

He nervously shifts his weight from one leg to another, taking a short look at his shoes, gaining all of his courage before speaking up again. “I know this may sound ridiculous, but would you maybe want to… hang out sometime?”

“Hang out?” you repeat, voice a few octaves higher than usual.

“Y-yeah,” he nods, eyes big, “I was actually thinking of asking you out on a date but since you used to hate me until now, I didn’t want to go too fast-”

“It can be a date,” you jump in. The voice in your head is screaming at you now, hell, it is running around your head and hitting the walls in anger and panic. How the hell did you end up in this position? Asking Kim Seungmin out on a date? You really must be ridiculous.

“Okay,” he smiles, urgently nodding.

“Okay.” you grin. You exchange a daring stare into each other’s eyes before he deeply inhales and scratches the back of his neck, turning on his heel and quickly pacing to the door. You almost think he’s going to leave, but he quickly looks back and stops in his tracks, shooting you one last, bright smile.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow!” he cheers, not even letting you respond before he runs out of the door.

As the library falls into dead silence, you take a seat on the chair, sighing deeply and bringing your head into your palms resting on the table, just like many times before when Seungmin left the comfort of the library, but this time, there’s a goofy smile playing with your lips as you think of the last few minutes, chuckling to yourself. This was an outcome you did not expect from the project-- but it’s an outcome you don’t mind at all.

Romeo and Juliet fell in love at first sight. How long did it take you?

It’s fair to say at least two weeks.

Maybe you were foolish and maybe it will hurt, but there’s something tempting at the warm feeling in your chest and the excitement Seungmin’s presence makes you feel, and that feeling alone doesn’t let you give up on this just yet.

Your eyes fall to the opened book of Romeo and Juliet you’d left on your table just before he arrived, meaning to return the copy of the play to the library. You’re met with a sentence that makes you chuckle at the irony, the foolishness washing over you mixed with a feeling of joy you can’t quite comprehend yet, but welcome it with your arms wide open and expecting heart.

‘My only love sprung from my only hate.’

702 notes · View notes

hollyethecurious · 3 years

Text

CS AU: A Light Worth Living For (4/?)

Summary: When Hook first became the Dark One, villagers would show up at all hours on any given day to plead their case of woe to him. Tired of inconvenient interruptions, he arranged three days each season when peasants could come from far and wide to throw themselves on his mercy, though they had to know he possessed no such virtue. It was all about the deal. Never would he have imagined that when the descendant of his old nemesis came before him with a great sum owed, an offer would turn into a betrayal that would, in turn, become the greatest deal any Dark One could have ever made.

A/N: Be advised, this chapter is a tad longer than the previous ones. Hook just wouldn’t stop sharing.

Much love to @zaharadessert and @kmomof4 for their fabulous beta work, and to @artistic-writer and @courtorderedcake, as well as all the ladies on the Discord for being such great cheerleaders. Also, so. many. flails. to @wefoundloveunderthelight for the incredible art!! Love you all!!

Rated E (eventually) / available on ao3 and ff.net / add to tag list / buy me a coffee / Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Afternoon light infused the hallway leading towards the great hall, particles swirling whimsically in the soft beams, pulling a sardonic smile from Emma as she quietly padded along the corridor. She doubted very much that anything as fanciful as the way the dust danced in the air awaited her. Certain as she was that the scenes playing out in the gallery where Hook was engaging with his subjects would make her wish she had never left the confines of the room, after almost two full days, Emma had been unable to endure another moment of being trapped within those four walls.

That is not to say she had been imprisoned, Hook had made it clear, via the servant who had delivered her breakfast tray the morning before, that she was permitted to wander the castle and interact with the people as she saw fit. However, she’d had not the desire to do much of anything other than pack her bag and fortify her resolve, positive she’d need those reinforcements when Hook returned at the end of the day, enticing her body and her magic with his mere presence, as she did not doubt for a moment he was fully aware of the effect he had on both.

He never came, though. In fact, she had not seen him since he left their room the day before. A second missive had accompanied her morning meal, a reminder that she was free to leave the room at any time, as well as an update that he had sent out letters on her behalf and hoped to begin hearing back from his acquaintances soon. Nerves had begun to churn in her stomach at the prospect of putting herself in the hands of another magic wielder, concerns as to whether they would find her as poor a student as Hook seemed to, in addition to her instinct to return to that which was familiar and safe, even if going back to Neal was a worse decision than remaining where she was, had consumed her thoughts throughout the day. Deciding a distraction was in order, as well as a reminder as to why leaving the Dark One’s tutelage was best, Emma now found herself tucked away in the shadows of the upper gallery, looking down on the proceedings occurring within the great hall.

“Only one delinquent account today, my Lord,” the Dark One’s Steward announced, leading a group of peasants before the dais.

“If it pleases the Dark One,” one of the men began, cutting off the Steward as he began identifying those who had fallen behind on their taxes. “I am not at fault here. You see, these people,” he flippantly gestured to the group beside him, his lip curling with a disgusted snarl, “are the ones who are delinquent, not I. They owe me a considerable sum in back rent, and until they settle their debt with me, I cannot possibly pay you the taxes owed.”

Hook lifted his gaze from where it had been focused on the tip of his hook, idly running beneath the edge of his fingernails, and turned to the huddled assembly of renters, quivering in fear. “Have you a valid reason for not paying your rent in a timely fashion?”

“A-Actually, my Lord,” one of the peasants spoke up with a tremor vibrating along his words that Emma could practically feel from her perch. “We… we have not paid our rent because the boarding house we were all living in caught fire more than a month ago, and our landlord has not made the necessary repairs.”

“Not that it was fit for man or beast to live in before it went up in flames,” a boy of about fourteen muttered, not quite beneath his breath and earning him a nervous elbow in his side from what appeared to be a sibling.

Hook’s brow rose up his forehead as he cocked his head in the landlord’s direction. “Is that so? Have you been derelict in your responsibility to your tenants?”

The man puffed out his chest and raised his chin. “I am not convinced the fire wasn’t the result of carelessness on their part,” he argued. “Their contracts are clear in regards to matters of destruction of property, and if the blaze occurred because of a neglected candle or lantern--”

“We ain’t had no money for lantern oil in ages!” the young man protested. “And candles are a luxury we can’t afford to squander. The fire wasn’t our doing, it was the weather!”

Several others jumped in to back the lad up, citing the strange phenomenon that had occurred the evening in question when the house had inexplicably caught fire prior to an unexpected downpour. They all deduced the damage had been caused by lightning, a provision within their contracts that clearly fell to the proprietor to remedy, but Emma had a sinking suspicion she knew exactly who had been at fault.

Though his expression remained passive, Emma could detect tells within Hook’s demeanor that gave away his guilt. Not that he would have felt any sort of remorse over his actions that night, conjuring up a fireball within the palm of his hand and casting it towards the thatch roof that had gone up like kindling just so she could draw on the necessary power it took to manifest the storm. She remembered arguing with him once the fire had been doused, her desire to repair the structure gruffly shot down as he whisked them away before anyone was the wiser to their presence.

“Enough!” Hook bellowed, causing all those within earshot, including Emma, to flinch. “Perhaps you would be good enough to allow me a look at their contracts?”

It wasn’t a request, made evident by the lowering of his brows, the ticking in his jaw, and the expectant hand he had held out towards the landlord. The air thickened with tension, and for a moment Emma thought the man might be foolish enough to refuse Hook’s request. After the contract was deposited in his hand, Hook flicked his palm and the scroll unfurled in the air, magically suspended as keen, blue eyes scrutinized the page.

“Deals are a tenet of my magic,” Hook confided while he continued to peruse the parchment. “The Darkness is most astute when making deals. It knows every loophole, every advantage so it, or its esteemed host-” he bowed his head before them, a mocking smirk pulling taut on his lips “-always has the upper hand. As such,” the scroll snapped, tightly wound and once more in Hook’s grip, “we can perceive when a deal, any deal, has not been met in good faith, and it is clear to me, according to article two, paragraph six, that it is not your tenants who owe either you or I, but you who owe them.”

Sputtering, the landlord attempted to refute such a judgement, but was silenced by a wave of Hook’s hand.

“I find that not only are your tenants free from the terms of their contracts, but that each should receive compensation for the poor excuse of lodging you provided them for an exorbitant price.” Again, the man opened his mouth, but quickly discovered he no longer had a voice with which to argue. “My Steward will work out the necessary details and see to it recompense is given promptly, lest you find yourself in the role of tenant within the less than luxuriant accommodations of my dungeon.” Taking in the group with a bored look, Hook commented, “I trust this satisfactorily concludes the matter?”

The stunned villagers offered their gratitude as they were ushered out of the hall, while the landlord continued to try, and failed, to locate his voice, having to be bodily removed from the room by two guards. Emma, too, was astounded by the turn of events. Had he known all along the boarding house proprietor was cheating his tenants? If so, why the fire? Why not simply take the man to task another way? Was it because doing so would have offered no benefit to either him or the Darkness? What benefit did they receive by the verdict that had been issued?

The Dark One was pinching the bridge of his nose when the solid doors of the great hall creaked open. Chewing her lip, Emma watched as the young man who had been the most vocal against his landlord made his way into the room.

“Lad,” Hook greeted, stepping down from the dais. “You’ve come to uphold your end of our bargain, I presume?”

Emma’s heart constricted painfully in her chest. What had the boy done, and what price was he about to pay?

“Yes. Though I was starting to wonder whether you would make good on the deal.”

Rocking back onto his heels, Hook tucked his thumb in his belt and hummed pensively. “I admit, it took me longer than I’d planned, but everything seems to have worked out in the end.” Looking over the boy’s shoulder to the doorway and the corridor beyond, he pondered, “Do your parents, or the others, know you sought out my help during the last tax collection? Do they know of our deal?”

“No,” the boy answered sadly. “I just hope, whatever the price, you’ll allow me the opportunity to explain and say my goodbyes first.”

Tears pooled in Emma’s eyes and her throat tightened in response to the choked tone in the lad’s words. What horror awaited him? What was the price for freeing his family from their lease and having the landlord literally pay for his crimes?

Hook rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder, and an expression of warmth she had rarely witnessed from him shone from his features. “I think I can arrange that,” Hook murmured. “When you come clean, you can inform them that yesterday a blacksmith was brought before me, delinquent in his taxes because he had suffered a grave injury and found himself unable to work at the pace he once could. I agreed to give him an extension so he could find and hire an apprentice that might help take up the slack. I think you would serve him well, lad, and leaving your family in order to assist the blacksmith as his apprentice is the price I am insisting upon.”

“M-Me? An apprentice to a blacksmith? A real apprentice?”

“Aye. You’ll be given lodging and meals while learning the trade, as well as a fair stipend. I’ll see to that.”

The boy launched himself at Hook, nearly knocking him over with the force of his embrace. The Dark One stiffened, clearly caught off guard by the lad’s response, then slowly wrapped his arms around his small frame, returning the gesture briefly before stepping back.

“Yes, well,” Hook cleared his throat and his hand pawed at a patch of skin behind his ear. “See my Steward before you leave and he’ll make all the arrangements.” Tendrils of crimson smoke began to billow around the Dark One’s feet, then quickly encapsulated him, transporting him from the emotionally fraught scene before the boy could utter another word.

Emma departed the hall as well, though through more conventional means, utilizing the time it took to stroll back to her room to try and come to terms with what she had witnessed that afternoon.

~/~

Morning was not a welcomed sight when the soft glow of dawn crept through the window. Having stayed up most of the night contemplating the quandary of a man who vexed her at every turn, Emma finally came to the conclusion in the wee hours of the morning that none of the new insights she’d gleaned the evening before made any difference to her decision to leave. One good deed hardly negated the despicable acts he had instigated during their time together, making her his accomplice under the guise of instruction. Besides, Hook had said it himself, the Dark One does not make deals unless he can benefit from them in some way, so who was to say he would not profit from his deal with the boy at the lad’s expense at some point in the future?

Of course, it was a difficult reminder to bear when Emma thought back to the tender way Hook had engaged with the young man. Almost as if he did care about the lad’s future and the injustice his family and the others at the boarding house had endured. As though he wanted to see to it the landlord got what was coming to him. Which brought her back to her previous questions. Why the deal? Why not simply intervene on his own? Questions that would have to remain unanswered, seeing as she was leaving today. Much to her magic’s despair.

A pit had begun to form in her stomach as the hours passed overnight. A hollow ache formed even deeper, right in the very center of her, mourning and melancholy eating away at her conviction. Still, Emma could not afford to be wrong about him. Regardless of the new evidence that might contradict her earlier summations, she would not risk staying and being seduced down a path towards corruption, no matter how much her own magic might protest their separation.

The gnawing dread lingered throughout the day, deepening at the arrival of Hook’s now routine note, then again when she watched the mass exodus of peasants leaving the castle now that the tax collection was at an end and all that remained was to settle the final day’s delinquent accounts. All too soon, he would arrive in their room with her choices of where to go next. All too soon, she would be standing with him in this room, fending off the allure of his person and power while subjugating her own. All too soon, her deal with the Dark One would be a memory filled with regret, though she knew not yet whether that regret would stem from her choice to leave their bargain unfulfilled, or from having spent time here at all.

A knock at the door made Emma jump, she hadn’t expected Hook to knock, it was his room after all, and she’d never known him to announce his presence before. A second rap prompted her to open the door where she found the Steward standing at attention.

“His Lordship has requested the honor of your presence in the great hall, Mrs. Cassidy. Would you be good enough to come with me?”

Emma gestured for him to lead the way, worrying her lip as she padded after him. “What has he summoned me for?”

“It is not my place to say,” the Steward answered, dutifully. “Rest assured, all will be revealed once we’ve arrived.”

Perhaps he wanted to discuss the replies he’d received in a more formal setting? Emma stumbled slightly as she considered whether he was summoning her to the great hall because those replies had come in person. Surely, none of those he’d contacted would have come here? Were there other sorcerers and witches awaiting her at this very moment? Were they expecting a demonstration? Or worse yet - would it be worse? - had they all sent back a reply that they were not interested in taking on a new pupil? What if he had brought Neal or August to the castle to come and collect her since she had no other options?

Of all the possibilities swirling through her mind and churning in her gut, none could have caught her off guard like the presence of the woman standing before the dais as Emma entered the cavernous room.

“There you are!” the woman exclaimed, rushing towards Emma.

Despite all the arguments she’d been giving herself about Hook’s black character, she could not believe he would be so cruel as to make her face the woman she had widowed when she’d chosen to save her from the wraith rather than her husband; a woman whose approach made Emma flinch in anticipation of her grief-fueled and possibly volatile response.

However, volatile was not how Emma would end up describing the exchange. Grief-fueled, yes. Evident by the tears streaking down the woman’s cheeks and the way she sobbed into Emma’s shoulders after throwing her arms around her, but nothing more explosive than an outpouring of emotion and gratitude.

“Bless you,” the woman wept. “Bless you for what you did. We were both prepared to be the one to… but you made it so we wouldn’t have to live with that guilt. I can never thank you enough for what you’ve done.”

Stunned into silence, it took Emma several moments to process the woman’s confounding words. “I… I don’t understand. You’re thanking me for damning your husband to--”

“No, no. You freed us!” the woman replied. “Freed us from a terrible curse with an even more terrible price to be rid of it. Because of you, I can… I can finally grow old and die.”

Emma balked. “Die? What...?”

The woman glanced back to where Hook was standing, stoic and brooding with his eyes fixed on Emma. “You did not tell her?” the woman asked over her shoulder before turning back to Emma. “My husband and I were cursed with immortality many years ago. You can not imagine the pain of watching those you love, your very children even, grow old and die, leaving you alone to suffer their loss.”

“Your children? But I thought…”

“The children you saw the other night are actually my great-grandchildren. My husband and I lost our only grandchild and her husband to influenza last year, so we’ve been looking after them, but…”

“But what?”

Fresh tears crested the woman’s lashes and she choked back a sob. “We could not bear the thought of having to lose another generation of our family, so we sought out the Dark One for help in freeing us of our curse. For who else besides one with such dark magic could possibly remove one’s soul?”

“Remove your soul?” Emma gasped. “That’s what was required to break your curse?”

Nodding, the woman said, “We came to the Dark One on our knees, begging for his help, each of us willing to be the one to sacrifice our soul so the other could be free, and he agreed. The deal was for him to find a way to remove one of our souls and in exchange we agreed to pay whatever price he would demand of us at the time of completion.”

Emma’s eyes flicked toward Hook. “And what price did you demand?”

His chest labored, releasing a heavy sigh before replying, “I’ll show you after you’ve finished conversing.”

“Oh! I won’t keep you any longer,” the woman said, embracing Emma once more. “I know it must have been hard for you to choose, but I want you to know I do not blame you for your choice. As I said, we were both willing to be the one sacrificed, and I know my husband would have preferred it this way. I miss him terribly, but the Dark One assures me he did not suffer, so I take comfort in that."

Brushing away her tears, the woman left an affectionate kiss upon Emma’s cheek and took both her hands. “Take care of yourself, my dear. You have a rare and powerful gift. Treat it well.”

“I will.”

Saying her good-byes to Hook, the woman made her way out of the great hall, her countenance a mystifying mixture of unburdened relief tinged with heartache. Meanwhile, Emma could not tame the torments afflicting her thoughts and emotions, attempting to bring order to the chaos the woman had wrought on her previously assured assumptions.

“Shall we?” Hook said, startling her with his proximity as he must have walked over to her while she was deep in her contemplations.

“Shall we what?”

An amused huff fell from his lips and he cocked an eyebrow at her. “You wanted to know the price they paid, remember?”

~/~

When the ox-blood wisps of his magic dissipated, Hook stepped back and allowed Swan to take in his workshop. The Darkness hissed in protest beneath his skin, chafing at the intrusion of her presence within the one place Hook considered his sanctuary, but he paid it no heed. He wanted her here, wanted her to understand, to see this side of him and perhaps leave without thinking him a monster.

Swan slowly perused her surroundings, pausing briefly here and there to study an object of interest or attempt to make sense of a curiosity. Her exquisite face reflected every pondering, every sense of awe and wonder, as it twitched and wrinkled across her brow, pulled at the tender flesh of her lip, and sparkled in the well of her viridian gaze. Running his thumb over the pads of his fingers, Hook tried to quell the itch that had begun to form there - the compulsion to reach out for her both physically and with his magic tingling behind his nail beds. The response of her own magic was not helping matters, examining the enchantment that surrounded her with its own explorations, seeking to understand and connect with the power that inhabited not just the room, but many of the items and experiments within.

Struggling to maintain a tight rein on his magic, and other instincts that might distract them from the purpose for which he’d brought her to his workshop, Hook mustered all the patience he could manage as Swan continued her inspection, a startled gasp falling from her lips when she at last caught sight of the price he’d collected.

“Is… is that?”

“Aye,” he responded, watching as she approached the man’s body, her hand hovering over the glimmer of enchantment encasing him.

“A preservation spell?” she inquired, snapping her gaze up to his. “Why would you--”

“To protect his body whilst I seek out a remedy.”

“A remedy?” Her eyes grew wide and her lips parted. “You hope to restore his soul? How? How would that even be possible?”

“It wouldn’t have been if I had given in to the Darkness’ wishes when the couple first requested my help.”

“What do you mean, the Darkness’ wishes?”

“The Darkness wanted me to remove one of their souls then and there, but doing so would have destroyed it,” he explained. “Of course, its destruction would have been payment enough to satisfy the price such magic would require, but I was loath to do it. My pesky humanity getting in the way, I suppose.”

Swan shook her head in perplexity. “You’re not making sense. You speak of the Darkness as though it were a separate entity. You are the Dark One, the embodiment of the Darkness, how can you have desires contrary to yourself?”

Hook arched a brow and cocked his head. “Have you never been at war with yourself, love? Surely, now that you have become so intimately acquainted and entwined with your magic you have experienced the struggle of it wishing to react in a way opposite to your better judgments?”

A warm wash of pink tinted her cheeks and her eyes fell to the side, avoiding his knowing expression.

“While my situation might be more complicated, I know that, though not entirely sentient, one’s magic can seem as though it has its own identity, unique to that of its wielder and yet completely integrated into one’s self.”

Glancing up at him once more, her eyes narrowed. “You said your situation was more complicated.” Although her eyes remained piercing and expectant, her expression reflected nothing more than her curiosity and longing to understand. “Uncomplicate it for me.”

Running his hand through his hair, Hook released a heavy sigh while hushing the voices demanding he hold his tongue.

“I was once just a man, born without any magical ability, and though I was a pirate, I did have some semblance of humanity within me. A sense of good form and a certain code I tried to maintain. When I became the Dark One, that man surrendered to the worst parts of himself while his heart became infused with a magic fuelled by those darker impulses. Etched upon that magic is the collective imprint of all the previous Dark Ones. Their combined presence is the Darkness. They are the ones who incite mutiny within me, causing my humanity to do battle with my rage and thirst for vengeance, which are the grounding emotions my magic is tethered to. They are the ones who have bound my magic with tenets that require deals, the reason my magic always comes with a price. For centuries I have not bothered to battle against it, content to simply let it lure desperate souls in need of aid to enter into bargains they did not fully understand,” he hesitated a moment before continuing, “but then…”

No! No, you fool! She need not know the influence she has over you. Why give her such power?

There is a reason you have not confided your plan to her. You know you cannot truly give someone such control over you, over us. Do not deceive yourself into thinking you can trust her. That she’ll ever see you as anything other than what you are.

She wants to leave, so let her leave! Nothing you say now will change her mind. Why waste your breath with this pointless explanation?

“Then… what?”

Shutting out the chorus of tormentors, Hook flicked his gaze to capture hers and confessed, “I met you.”

He hoped her sharp intake of breath was due to the revelation and not the snarling tone, intended for his incessant companions, he’d accidentally applied to it.

“Me? What was so--”

“You reminded me of her,” he said, pushing past the protests and allowing the long-held words to trip off his tongue with abandon. “My Milah. The way she, too, had been trapped in a marriage with a man who did not value her. Could not see the true worth of the treasure he had right in front of him, squandering her gifts and talents because they might disrupt the mediocrity he was willing to settle for.” Running his tongue along his bottom lip, Hook surrendered to the flood of memories he’d buried with his love centuries ago. “I did not steal her from Rumplestiltskin. I offered her an escape; one she chose to take, finally claiming command over her own destiny. But her husband could not bear the slight. Oh, he was too much of a coward to do anything at first, but once he became the Dark One, he hunted us.”

Hook could barely get the words out. How Rumplestiltskin had tracked them down to that port, how Hook had lied and told him Milah was dead, how they had dueled and he’d nearly lost his life until Milah arrived against his orders, saving him only to lose her life by the Dark One’s hand.

“He crushed her heart,” he exhaled in a pained breath. “Right in front of me. Mocked me as I held her lifeless body, telling me he was going to let me live so I would suffer as he had. Then he cut off my hand for good measure. As a reminder, he’d said. As though I could ever forget.” He was far away now, back on the deck of his ship, agony searing in his left wrist and twisting his own heart, hoping the anguish might be enough to grind it to ash alongside hers. “He was crouched down before me, sneering and tittering his triumph, and I caught a glimmer of something shining from his waist. Marshalling all my rage and the last of my strength, I--”

The brush of a hand against his cheek and the infusion of solace magically permeating his innermost being from the source of her touch jarred him back to his tower workshop and the woman to whom he was supposed to be giving an account of his recent actions. Swan’s eyes were filled with worry as they flickered between his, and it took more resolve than he’d care to admit to not take advantage of her concern with a press of his lips and suggestions of other ways she might offer him comfort. Reluctantly, he stepped back, away from her touch and the caress of her magic, his own power - the parts unhindered by the Darkness’ sway - rebelling against his resignation.

Clearing his throat, Hook wandered to the other side of the tower, putting the expanse of his workshop between them as he got back to the matter at hand. “As I said, you reminded me of her. That remembrance, combined with the effects of your magic, untainted and pure, awakened something unexpected within me.”

“What was that?” Swan asked from across the room, arms crossed protectively over her chest and her expression giving away nothing as to how his withdrawal might have affected her.

“My humanity,” he sighed. “After I became the Dark One, I didn’t even attempt to fight the Darkness’ bid to control me. My hand and my heart - for I truly felt as though it had been crushed alongside hers - were gone, and I did not much care about anyone or anything after that. I fell straight into the darkness, forgoing the man I used to be and embracing the moniker I have come to be known as - Hook. The Dark One.”

“I suppose that’s understandable,” she said, though there was a wariness in her understanding. “But you must have had moments of compassion over the centuries. I… my magic alone could not have been the only catalyst prompting you towards good in all this time, and even it was… I’m still not sure I would categorize your recent actions as honorable.”

A smirk lifted wryly at the corner of his lip. “Perhaps not, but it is the best I’ve been able to do given my limitations.”

“Limitations I still do not fully understand,” she quipped, her impatience with his cryptic and coy nature clipping at the end of her words.

Hook ground his teeth together, tempering the increasing irritation cresting within him from the relentless admonishments and reprimands droning on in the back of his head. Fending off the Darkness’ influence on his own was something he’d only begun a few months ago and there were times when he could not gather the necessary stamina to keep it at bay. Vowing this would not be one of those times, that he would find some sort of outlet for the Darkness to unleash its vitriol and cruelty on later, once Swan was out of its crosshairs, Hook fortified his resolve and pressed on.

“My magic is restricted by the deals I am required to make in order to wield it for any sort of benefit to others.”

“I know,” Swan replied with a small shrug of her shoulders. “You told that to the group of renters yesterday.”

Hook hummed and lifted his brows. “I thought I sensed you… your magic. You didn’t have to hide, you know.”

“I wasn’t hiding. I just... didn’t want to… intrude,” she protested, though her tone and the way she became overly interested in one of the quills on his desk, casually running her fingers over the feather and refusing to meet his gaze told him otherwise.

Perhaps sensing his dubious expression, she huffed, recrossed her arms, and accused, “You’re avoiding the issue again.”

Hook held up his hand in supplication, schooling his features into a more contrite countenance. “My apologies, love. Let’s start with that group of renters then, shall we? It was, after all, when the boy returned to make a deal with me after the last tax collection concluded that I realized something was different.”

“How so?”

Hook took them back to that day. He’d just made the deal with Swan, had left her to settle in while he cleared his head and curbed his magic’s (and other parts of himself) response to hers, when his Steward had announced the return of one of his subjects. He’d half expected Cassidy - though he should have known the man would have been too much of a coward to actually come back and fight for his wife - and was therefore surprised when a lad of fourteen made his way into the hall with a request for the Dark One’s help.

“The more the lad told me, the angrier I got,” Hook told her, balling his fist and clenching his jaw at the memory. “But not my usual rage, not the volatile temper tied to the Darkness’ bidding. This was a righteous anger. I wanted to help the boy, not because it might benefit me, or because swindling him in some way might entertain the Darkness and satisfy its cruel cravings, but because… it was the right thing to do.”

“Then why not confront the landlord right then?”

“How would that benefit me?” His eyes snapped shut and he pursed his lips, cringing at the words that had become a reflex response during his tenure as the Dark One. “I mean… the terms of my magic, bound by the Darkness, requires an advantageous outcome for us if performed for the intended benefit of another. A deal is required in order for me to use my magic to help others.” Swallowing past the guilt and self-chastisement his humanity stirred within him, he embittered, “But once a deal is met, either myself or the Darkness are typically the only ones who have profited from it.”

Swan nodded and wet her lips. “So, the only way to help the boy was to make a deal, but making a deal could have ultimately made matters worse.”

“Aye,” he exhaled, relieved she was starting to understand. “I kept my deal with him vague, agreeing to try and give his family and the others justice while leaving his price open ended, hoping to find a loophole that would allow me to assist them without a crippling cost. I did the same with the cursed man and his wife who came to me a few weeks later.”

Balking, Swan’s brows furrowed. “They came to you without an appointment? After the open audience you provide during tax collection?”

Everyone knew you did not incur the wrath of the Dark One by seeking him out between seasons. At best he would refuse their audience and send them away; at worst, his subjects would find themselves in the dungeons, ignored and forgotten until such a time his hall was open for receiving once more.

“I almost turned them away, until they told me of their affliction,” he admitted. Reaching up, he scratched behind his ear, the prickling sensation of resistance creeping up his neck as he took in a deep breath, quieting the voices once more before adding, “I could relate to their plight, you see. Immortality is a burden I also bear and know all too well the loneliness and despair it can carry with it.”

“So, you agreed to help them.”

Her voice was closer now. Focusing his gaze onto her, he noted she’d taken a few steps forward, hovering just a few feet away and captivating his magic with the warm appeal of her own. Without thought, he closed the gap a bit more, drawn to her as he always was and unable to fight so many battles on so numerous of fronts.

“Our agreement was that if I could find a suitable way to remove one of their souls and break the curse, then they would owe me an unknown boon at the time of their release. I had heard tales of a creature that was capable of removing a soul intact, and there had even been cases of those souls being returned to their rightful owners. My only problem, in both the lad’s and the couple’s cases, was how to keep my end of the bargain without demanding a price more horrific than the circumstance they wished to be freed from.”

“Until you realized,” she began thoughtfully, skimming her fingers over the top of his desk as she moved even closer, vocalizing the culmination of all she’d been able to learn and deduce from his tale, “that using our deal, and the lessons necessary to achieve the results you needed in order for me to perform the task we agreed upon, meant you were already benefiting from those acts that completed the other deals, and thereby could demand a lesser price from them.”

A wide grin broke out across Hook’s face. “Indeed,” he replied, shaking his head in awe. “Such a marvel you are, Swan.”

His comment seemed to surprise her, evident by the way her cheeks flamed and she fought to keep her own grin, twitching at the corners of her mouth, from fully forming. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes bouncing to various points around them before flicking up furtively beneath her lashes.

Swallowing past the reaction such an endearing display had prompted, he dug the tip of his hook into the side of his thigh and persisted to conclude the discussion, reminding himself that once done, they would have to acknowledge the reality of her leaving and the choices before her.

“The Darkness was satisfied with the destruction in which we left the boarding house, as well as the suffering of the landlord, which meant I could arrange a favorable outcome for the boy. An outcome that still benefits me, seeing as how his apprenticeship will allow the blacksmith to settle his debt in a more timely fashion.”

The atmosphere crackled as he brushed past her, their magic reacting to the others as he made his way towards the man lying prone against one of the walls of his workshop. He rolled his neck, his head tilting to one side as a shudder ran down his spine. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself in check, needs and desires of a conflicting nature bombarding him at every turn.

“The couple was not as complicated. The removal of a soul and the sacrifice one would have to make in order to achieve their freedom from the curse was a high enough price. Your involvement, though admittedly difficult and one I wish I could have spared you from, was necessary in order for you to complete your final lesson, but also allowed whomever survived the wraith to be free from the guilt of having to make the choice themselves.”

The muscle above his jaw pulsed and his spine straightened as she stepped up beside him, her gaze focused on the man. “What will happen now?” she asked, softly. “How will you be able to justify keeping him here, ultimately restoring his soul, without a deal or any practical benefit to yourself?”

“The Darkness craves power,” he choked out. “The knowledge it can glean from studying the couple’s curse, as well as the wraith’s methods of extracting his soul, is enough of a boon to satisfy the terms of the magic I’ve used to keep him preserved.” He opened his mouth then closed it, repeating the action a few more times before the reluctant words finally slipped off his tongue. “I had hoped, that in addition to the task I had planned for you to perform, you might have agreed to help me find the cure, and…”

He felt her eyes trail over to him and was powerless to keep from meeting her gaze. “And when the time came that we found it, you would be the one to perform the necessary magic. You would be the one to save him without a price having to be paid.” Her lips parted with a quick inhale, but before she could respond, not wishing to apply any undue pressure or guilt upon her, he assured, “Not to worry, though Swan. My relationship with the fairies has always been a tenuous one, but seeing as how they have been most agreeable to taking you on as pupil, I imagine one of them could be persuaded to assist me once the solution to his malady has been discovered.”

“The fairies?” Swan practically shrieked, her face paling and nearly causing him to wrap her in a soothing embrace. As much as he would love nothing more than to hold her in his arms again, he had to maintain the boundaries he’d set for himself when she announced her intention to leave, lest his magic and darker nature get the better of him and force her to stay.

“Aye,” he strained out. “The Blue Fairy and I have a… history with one another.” Remembering the circumstances of when and why that association began, Hook rushed to add, “But that is a tale for another time and not relevant to the matter at hand.”

Knowing it was probably time to stop putting off the inevitable, Hook turned towards his desk with the intention of collecting the invitations he’d received for Swan to train with the other magic wielders he’d reached out to. Before he could bring up the topic and show her the letters, she asked, “Why?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Hook took in her expression, the fear-laced longing in her eyes, the way she swallowed in anticipation, the breath she held after uttering the question he knew she probably felt unready to hear the answer for all displayed with a beautiful vulnerability upon her face.

“Why what?” he murmured softly, wanting there to be no mistake, no misconstrued notion of what she was asking.

“Why have you worked so hard to find these loopholes when I get the impression my presence and my magic weren’t the first time you’ve been reminded of your humanity? Why now?”

The words hovered at the back of his throat, strangled by the Darkness and even that part of himself that wasn’t quite sure he was ready to admit them.

Because I wanted to be a better man. For you and for myself before I…

“Pardon the intrusion, my Lord,” his Steward’s voice echoed through the room, magically conveyed through the conch shell positioned on his desk. “But you asked to know the moment he was located and brought to the castle.”

A bubble of satisfaction swelled within him. This timely arrival meant he could prolong Swan’s stay, forgoing the invitations until after he’d dealt with this pressing matter; a matter which would permit him the opportunity to freely surrender to the Darkness’s bidding and conserve his strength for when he might need to rein it in again. For in this instance, the Dark One and the Darkness were in complete agreement on how to handle their… guest.

“I am afraid I must see to this,” Hook said with a measure of apology in his tone. “Would you be good enough to wait here, love? When I get back we can discuss the letters I received and begin making plans for your departure.”

He did not wait for her acquiescence, too much in need of this outlet on which the Darkness could inflict its aggressions upon while giving him respite from their targeting.

Appearing in the great hall through a swirl of crimson smoke, Hook delighted in seeing the man dragged before him then shoved down to his knees.

“Good Evening, Mr. Cassidy,” the Dark One greeted with sickly sweet cordiality. “How nice of you to come.”

Chapter Five

#cs ff #csff #cs fic #cs au #captain swan #dark hook #cssns21 #a light worth living for #words by hollye

71 notes · View notes

shinicalstorytime · 3 years

Text

X Drake x reader - Report

You walked through the beautiful, colorful streets of Wano. There was no denying it, the land looked gorgeous, or at least certain parts of it. Of course, you were aware there were parts of this country that weren’t as nice a sight. Especially where the factories were located.

Sadly, however, you would leave this beautiful sight behind soon and take a boat to Onigashima, which didn’t look as inviting as the Flower Capital. You had no choice though, as you had to report to your captain: X Drake. After having tailed the CP Aigis 0, it just so happened that they landed on the island your captain was doing undercover work himself.

You left the beautiful capital and quickly reached the port. A ship from the Beast Pirates was waiting for you, as Drake had instructed them to pick you up. Of course, your captain had lied and told everyone that you would swear your allegiance to Kaido, since all his subordinates were under his service.

You quickly met with the captain of the ship and verified your identity, quickly getting on board as you saw he was in a bad mood. Then again, you’d be too if Kaido would be your captain.

Onigashima came into view and your mood dropped instantly. How could this place be located so close to something as beautiful as Wano? Why was Drake even there, couldn’t he do his undercover work on the beautiful mainland instead?! The things you did for your captain.

The boat arrived and you hopped off the ship after quickly thanking him for transporting you. He only grunted in response. Geez, such nice company. You left the boat behind you and started towards the living quarters of the Tobi Roppo, using the instructions Drake had given you in his latest letter.

On the way, you noticed many of the Beast Pirates, all drinking, laughing and partying. You were glad to at least see they had a better mood than that ship’s captain. If you would have to spend your undercover time looking at moody faces you’d go mad and become sour yourself. You wanted to leave this country with your sanity.

Finally, the living quarters of the Tobi Roppo came into view in the distance. Honestly, you’d be glad to rejoin your captain and your old crew. Tailing CP Aigis 0 had been quite lonely and boring. Besides, seeing him always made you happier.

At least, you finally reached your destination. It also didn’t take you long to notice which one was Drake’s since it was the most barren place. You walked over to the door and knocked. No answer. Of course, Drake wasn’t here. Why would it be easy?

“Can I help you?” You jumped and turned around at the person from who the voice came. It was a rather tall man with light blue hair which hung in a weird pompadour in front of his face.

“Uh, I am looking for Drake…” you said. After all, maybe this person knew where your captain was. The man smiled at you as he took you in. Did he see through you? Did he know you didn’t really belong here?

“Ah, you must be his subordinate right? He is currently in a meeting with Sasaki, but I could keep you company until then.” You looked at him a bit confused and you wanted to put distance between the two of you. You didn’t like where this was going. The man seemed to catch on as to what you were thinking. “Oh no, don’t get me wrong. I am Kyoshiro, and I just want to keep you company since Drake doesn’t tend to hurry.”

You decided to try and trust him, for now. After all, you had to be on good terms with the Beast Pirates and their associates. Thus, you followed this Kyoshiro to a bar nearby where he treated you to a cup of sake.

After a few cups, Kyoshiro became very good company. He seemed quite entertaining and knew how to keep a conversation going. “So, tell me. What is with you and Drake?” he asked. Confusion hit you. What did he mean with that?

Kyoshiro could see the confusion and chuckled. “Drake’s demeanor changed completely when he knew you were coming to Wano. He’s been more distracted and making sure everything would be in order for your arrival.”

Those words surprised you. Drake had been looking forward to your arrival then? You didn’t think it would make much difference for him, after all you were just his subordinate. The notion made you warm inside. Apparently that started to show on your face as well as you became red, much to Kyoshiro’s entertainment.

Kyoshiro of course had caught on to Drake’s change the past few days and it was easy to see why, seeing you in front of him. It was even more amusing to him to see the effect mentioning Drake had on you as well. He could easily tell there was more going on than just a captain and crewmember type of relationship. At last, he had a chance to enjoy himself and play cupid for a bit.

You noticed a mischievous glint in your company’s eyes and couldn’t’ help but wonder what that was about. “So, when do you think Drake will be back?” you asked him. You really wanted to get the report out of the way so you can get some rest from your long trip.

Kyoshiro shrugged. “No clue. But I am not in a hurry. Besides, Sasaki is also in that meeting and he is my usual drinking partner. I quite enjoy your company anyway.”

“Well, that is easily solved.” The voice made your heart skip a beat. Only now you had realized how much you missed that voice. You turned around and met the blue eyes of your captain. However, they were focused on Kyoshiro with murderous intent behind them.

Kyoshiro only looked amused. Oh how easy his job would be here. “Done already? That’s not your usual way of working.” the blue-haired man said, a teasing grin on his face.

Drake kept his eyes fixated on the man. How dared the try to woe his crewmate! “Sasaki is ready to be your drinking buddy again.” The anger present in your captain’s voice surprised him. Why was he in such a bad mood? Had something gone wrong in the meeting?

Kyoshiro sighed, but couldn’t hide his amusement even a little. “Such a shame, I was really enjoying my new company.” The man turned to look at Sasaki, who had been stationed next to the angry Drake, silently observing. “No offence.”

Sasaki laughed a bit, having caught on to the little devious plan of the yakuza. “None taken, my friend. I would also prefer company this pretty.” This was the last drop for Drake. Something inside him exploded.

Drake turned to you and grabbed your wrist. “Come on, (Y/N). It’s time to go.” and with that, he dragged you out of the bar. You were so confused and gave the two other men an apologetic look. Something told you you’d best keep them on a friendly side.

As Drake was dragging you through the streets of Ongashima, seemingly without a destination in mind, you were gathering your thoughts. “Okay and now we’re going to stop!” you shouted as you stopped in your tracks and effectively stopping your captain as well.

“What on earth was all that about?!” Drake didn’t know how to answer that. Well, he knew the answer, but he didn’t want to admit that he was jealous. After all, you were supposed to be by his side again now that you two were reunited.

“Drake?” His silence was starting to worry you. Was he sick? The man sighed. He knew there wasn’t a way around it. He supposed it was time to finally admit it.

“(Y/N)… I missed you.” Your cheeks warmed at those words. He did? You had missed him a lot as well. “I missed you too, Drake. But what does that have to do with that display in the bar?” you questioned. You didn’t see the correlation.

“Those guys don’t know how to treat a lady properly.” You laughed a bit. “And you do?” Sure, you loved Drake a lot but he was by no means great with the ladies.

Drake grumbled at that. “Perhaps not, but I do know how to treat you. And that is the only lady I need to know how to treat.” You were speechless. What were you supposed to say to that? Guess he did know how to woe a woman if he tried.

Your captain gained some confidence witnessing the flustered state you were in. “You’re not denying it, so I am assuming I am right?” You blushed more and nodded. “Perfect.” Drake said. God, you didn’t know how to handle it if Drake showed his more confident side.

However, you wouldn’t indulge him too much. “So, do you have time for my report now?” you asked, hoping to change the subject. “Of course I have time for you… but the report can wait.” Drake said with a smirk, taking your hand and leading you back to his living quarters. It would prove to be an interesting night for the two of you.

#x drake #diez drake #x drake x reader #diez drake x reader #one piece #one piece oneshot #one piece x reader #kyoshiro #denjiro #onigashima

86 notes · View notes

just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot · 3 years

Text

Sometimes You Have No Option

Pairings: Romantic Prinxiety

TWs: scar mentions, mostly just vague nothing too graphic at all, very quick mention of the ‘heat death of the universe‘, it’s one throwaway line but just to be safe!

Summary: Virgil wonders what Roman gets up to on his adventures that leaves him battered and bruised. What he finds isn’t what he expected....

---------

There was always this unpleasant feeling that followed Virgil whenever Roman came back from traversing the mindscape on an ‘adventure’; sometimes he’d come back bruised and bashed, other times he’d sport a limp, but nearly every time, Roman would come home with new scars.

Virgil couldn’t understand the appeal of it, though far be it for him to say anything about it. Sure, maybe it did hurt a little seeing someone he cared about come back each time more banged up than before.

But that's none of his business, right?

Virgil wondered just what Roman got up to each time he went out. He’d never seen the things Roman could conjure outside of the main mindscape; some called it the ‘imagination’ but they were already within the imagination technically. No, what Roman would conjure was more like a simulation within the mindscape, as far as Virgil understood it. Like adding an extension onto a home…. Only to tear it down once you were done with it in the end.

Perhaps calling them ‘daydreams’ was a more accurate comparison.

There were many times Virgil would let his own imagination run wild with the kind of journeys Roman must have gone on. Forests and kingdoms, perhaps a seafaring adventure if Remus agreed to not set the kraken on him. Or maybe he branched out even more. Something like the spaceports of Treasure Planet, or something more akin to a spiritual journey you’d find in a Ghibli movie. Who knew what Roman was up to most days, honestly.

It was a lazy Saturday in the mindscape when Virgil finally decided to ask Roman about it.

He hadn’t necessarily planned to do so, but Logan and Patton were both busy elsewhere, and all Virgil had to do was watch TV and contemplate the inevitable heat death of the universe when Roman had returned. Mismatched eyes latched onto the creative side as the prince made his way to the kitchen. He winced as he watched Roman root around for frozen peas and press the bag to his left cheek.

The injury was just out of Virgil’s sight, but as Roman turned and made eye contact, he could see the beginnings of a bruise forming. Despite the way the sight made Virgil’s lips pinch into a frown, Roman met him with a smile that made his stomach do flips as he made his way over to the sofa,

“What’s that look for, Woe Troham?”

Virgil snorted, “Wow, we’re getting obscure with the nicknames now? You’re really earning that extra credit in Emo Studies, Princey.”

Roman rolled his eyes fondly and sat down next to Virgil, careful of the anxious side’s bunched up legs, “You do realise we ALL went through Thomas’ emo phase, right?”.

Virgil rolled his eyes, “Whatever...”, he was about to leave the conversation there when he remembered the matter at hand, “Hey, uh, Roman?”

“That’s what they call me, yes.”, the creative side smirked playfully, “Typically preceded by ‘Prince’ but I’ll cut you some slack this once.”. Virgil wanted to slap that smirk away. Or maybe smooch it. The jury was still out on that one.

He sighed in mock annoyance, “Can we cut out the nonsense for once, Romano?”

He bit his lip to stifle a chuckle at the insulted huff Roman let out.

“Okay, seriously, I was gonna ask what happened,”, Virgil continued when Roman fixed him with a perplexed frown, “Y’know, to cause that.” .

He freed one hand from his hoodie paws to gesture to the bruise under the frozen peas in Roman’s hand. Said creative side shrugged, “It’s nothing to worry about, Virge. I’ve had far worse before.”.

Oh great, because that’s what Virgil was absolutely dying to hear.

The words left his mouth before the anxious side could stop them, “.. Can I see?”

Okay, that had to have crossed a line, surely. Those scars were probably super traumatic or heavy with meaning, or perhaps they were-

“Okay.”, Roman shrugged. He was already hauling his shirt off by the time Virgil had registered how casual Roman was about this whole thing. He was about to voice his confusion when Roman’s shirt fluttered to the floor; leaving Virgil with a moment of gay crisis, but even more so a feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach.

Roman’s entire torso was covered in scars. Some were fresh, likely only days old, while others were already paling with time. The anxious side had no idea where his hands obtained the audacity to trail themselves along Roman’s skin without permission, but the creative side seemed content to let him continue.

Surprisingly confident fingertips traced valleys and trenches of healed and healing skin, only ever stopping on each route if Roman protested. Virgil had no idea why Roman let him even do something that felt this intimate in the first place, but the question that bubbled out of his throat instead was, “What…. Happened to you?”

He expected Roman to turn away, to dramatically cover himself once more, perhaps muttering a barely audible “some things are left unsaid” or “it’s…. Personal”, and then he’d retire to his room while Virgil did the same and let his mind swim in it’s usual cloud of anxious self depreciation.

What Virgil did not expect was for Roman to immediately start pointing them out and listing every single cause like it was his grocery list.

“Well!”, Roman began, pointing to a scar on his left hip, “This is one I got from accidentally laying down on a light bulb.”

The prince pointed to more scars as he went, all too oblivious of Virgil’s stunned silence, “This one here is from running through corn stalks with my shirt off, and that one was a mosquito bite I scratched, which yes I know you shouldn’t do that, but you know how dreadfully those itch.This one here is from the time I tried to fight a goose- Oh! And this one I procured from falling out of a window during an impromptu tickle fight with Remus-”

“Why does anyone try to fight a goose?!”, Virgil blurted out. Of all the rapidfire information his brain just tried to absorb, he wasn’t sure why that was what his brain latched onto, but he couldn’t exactly take back the question now.

The anxious side watched Roman’s expression take on a distant, stoic edge, but having known him so well by now Virgil knew the prince’s fake dramatic long distance stare a mile away. “Sometimes,”, Roman began, and Virgil did his best not to give a fond huff of annoyed laughter at the creative side’s faux drama tone, “The goose leaves you no option-”

Virgil couldn’t stifle the peal of laughter that slipped through his teeth and betrayed his irritated facade. The whole conversation had been an emotional rollercoaster but Virgil was mostly just happy that even if Roman was constantly getting into scrapes, at least it was nothing overly serious. By the time Virgil had stopped laughing, he realised Roman had also fallen victim to the case of the giggles.

“You’re ridiculous, goddamit, Roman!”, Virgil snarked weakly, the gentle smile he wore betraying any attempt at true irritation. Roman simply continued to beam at Virgil, brilliant and bright, a beacon of pure adoration.

“That’s a rather funny way to pronounce ‘handsome and dashing’, but I’ll take it!”

It’s unfair that Roman got to be so well put together while Virgil was just standing there, hands still resting on Roman’s bare chest, blushing up an absolute storm. Something about the way Roman smiled at him - so gentle and adoring - made Virgil want to do something crazy.

Like kissing him.

Yeah.

He should kiss him.

No, wait, he absolutely should NOT do that.

In fact, Virgil caught himself just as he was leaning towards Roman, intending to turn away. However, Roman’s arms snaked their way smoothly around his waist, keeping him close but still remaining loose enough that Virgil could break away if he wanted.

“.... Virgil, can I ask you something?”

Roman’s voice was hesitant, a little less sure of himself than his expression implied. To save himself from embarrassment by not subjecting Roman to any barely passable attempts at a verbal affirmation, Virgil nodded bashfully.

Roman’s gaze landed on Virgil’s lips then settled back into half lidded eye contact, a small quirk of laughter dancing across the prince’s features.

“Am I the only one who’s been subtly flirting this entire time? Because if so, I am going to be utterly scandalized.”

Even Virgil was surprised by the relieved laughter he let out; it was the ugly kind that gave away just how smitten he was with Roman. He tapped his fingers against Roman’s chest, humming playfully.

“Hmmm, looks like you’ll just have to be scandalized, pretty boy.”, he teased.

Roman’s shocked expression was too cute, how could Virgil resist? The anxious side sighed out a low chuckle, rolled his eyes, and lent forward to reward him with a much earned kiss.

-----------

We love us a couple of pining dorks

Based on this post and so I tag @count-woe-laf as promised!

#my fics #prinxiety #roman #virgil #fanfic #fanfics #prinxiety fanfiction #this is basically a shitpost piece #but I'm working on other stuff and it's been so long #I wanted to give you all smth soft and fluffy to read

148 notes · View notes

kiyodu · 3 years

Text

The Letters of Vincent van Gogh (Part II)

Quotes I Enjoy:

• When one lives with others and is bound by feelings of affection, then one realises that one has a reason for living, that one may not be utterly worthless and expendable, but it is perhaps good for something, since we need one another and are journeying together as compagnons de voyage.

• I find it hard to bear this thought and even harder to bear the thought that so much dissension, misery and sorrow between us, and in our home, may have been caused by me. Should that indeed be the case, then I might wish it were granted me not to have much longer to live.

Yet when this thought sometimes depresses me beyond measure, far too deeply, then after a long time another occurs too: 'Perhaps it is only an awful, frightening dream and later we may learn to see and understand it more clearly.'

• It is sometimes so bitterly cold in the winter that one says, 'The cold is too awful for me to care whether summer is coming or not; the harm outdoes the good.' But with or without our approval, the severe weather does come to an end eventually and one fine morning the wind changes and there is a thaw. When I compare the state of weather to our state of mind and our circumstances, subject to change and fluctuation like the weather, then I still have some hope that things may get better.

• It is true that I have forfeited the trust of various people, it is true that my financial affairs are in a sorry state, it is true that my future looks rather bleak, it is true that I might have done better, it is true I have wasted time when it comes to earning a living, it is true that my studies are in a fairly lamentable and appalling state, and that my needs are greater, infinitely greater than my resources. But does that mean going downhill and doing nothing?

• If I do nothing, if I study nothing, if I cease searching, then, woe is me. I am lost. That is how I look at it - keep going, keep going come what may. But what is your final goal, you may ask. That goal will become clearer, will emerge slowly but surely, much as the draft turns into the sketch and the sketch into the painting through the serious work done on it, through the elaboration of the original vague idea and through the consolidation of the first fleeting and passing thought.

• You said, we used to agree about many things, but, you added, 'You have changed since then, you are no longer the same.' Well, that is not entirely true. What has changed is that my life then was less difficult and my future seemingly less gloomy, but as far as my inner self, my way of looking at things and of thinking is concerned, that has not changed.

But if there has indeed been a change, then it is that I think, believe and love more seriously now what I thought, believed and loved even then.

• Can you tell what goes on within by looking at what happens without? There may be a great fire in your soul, but no one ever comes to warm himself by it, all that passers-by can see is a little smoke coming out of the chimney and they walk on.

• You may never have thought what your country really is, he continued, placing his hand on my shoulder; it is everything around you, everything that has raised and nourished you, everything that you have loved. This countryside that you see, these houses, these trees, these young girls laughing as they pass, that is your country!

The laws that protect you, the bread that rewards your labour, the words you speak, the joy and sorrow that come from the people and things in whose midst you live, that is your country! The little room where you used in days gone by to see your mother, the memories she left you, the earth in which she rests, that is your country!

You see it, you breathe it, everywhere! Imagine your rights and your duties, your affections and your needs, your memories and your gratitude, gather all that together under a single name and that name will be your country.

• Sometimes he is a person whose right to exist has a justification that is not always immediately obvious to you, or more usually, you may absent-mindedly allow it to slip from your mind. Someone who has been wandering about for a long time, tossed to and fro on a stormy sea, will in the end reach his destination. Someone who has seemed to be good for nothing, unable to fill any job, any appointment, will find one in the end and, energetic and capable, will prove himself quite different from what he seemed at first.

• I should be very happy if you could see in me something more than a kind of ne'er-do-well. For there is a great difference between one ne'er-do-well and another ne'er-do-well. There is someone who is a ne'er-do-well out of laziness and lack of character, owing to the baseness of his nature. If you like, you may take me for one of those.

Then there is the other kind of ne'er-do-well, the ne'er-do-well despite himself, who is inwardly consumed by a great longing for action, who does nothing because his hands are tied, because he is, so to speak, imprisoned somewhere, because he lacks what he needs to be productive, because disastrous circumstances have brought him forcibly to this end.

Such a one does not always know what he can do, but he nevertheless instinctively feels, I am good for something! My existence is not without reason! I know that I could be a quite different person! How can I be of use, how can I be of service? There is something inside me, but what can it be? He is quite another ne'er-do-well. If you like you may take me for one of those.

• A caged bird in spring knows perfectly well that there is some way in which he should be able to serve. He is well aware that there is something to be done, but he is unable to do it. What is it? He cannot quite remember, but then he gets a vague inkling and he says to himself, "The others are building their nests and hatching their young and bringing them up," and then he bangs his head against the bars of the cage.

But the cage does not give way and the bird is maddened by pain. 'What a ne'er-do-well,' says another bird passing by - what an idler. Yet the prisoner lives and does not die. There are no outward signs of what is going on inside him, he is doing well, he is quite cheerful in the sunshine.

But then the season of the great migration arrives: an attack of melancholy. He has everything he needs, say the children who tend him in his cage - but he looks out, the heavy thundery sky, and in his heart of hearts he rebels against his fate. I am caged and you say I need nothing, you idiots! I have everything I need, indeed! Oh, please give me the freedom to be a bird like other birds.

• A justly or unjustly ruined reputation, poverty, disastrous circumstances, misfortune, they all turn you into a prisoner. You cannot always tell what keeps you confined, what immures you, what seems to bury you, and yet you can feel those elusive bars, railings, walls. Is all this illusion, imagination? I don't think so. And then one asks: my God, will it be for long, will it be forever, will it be for eternity?

Do you know what makes the prison disappear? Every deep, genuine affection. Being friends, being brothers, loving, that is what opens the prison, with supreme power, by some magic force. Without these one stays dead. But wherever affection is revived, there life revives. Moreover, the prison is sometimes called prejudice, misunderstanding, fatal ignorance of one thing or another, suspicion, fake modesty.

• If you ever fall in love, do so without reservation, or rather, if you should fall in love simply give no thought to any reservation. Moreover, when you do fall in love, you will not 'feel certain' of success beforehand. You will be a lost soul and yet you will smile.

• When he reads something profound, he doesn't immediately come out with: that man means this or that. For poetry is so deep and intangible that one cannot define it systematically. But Mauve has a keen sensibility and, you see, I find that sensibility worth a great deal more than definitions and criticisms.

• Books like that are filled with reality, but what is more real than reality itself and where is there more life than in life itself? And we who are doing our best to live, if only we lived a great deal more!

• Who is the master, logic or I, does logic exist for me or do I exist for logic, and is there no reason or sense in my unreasonableness or my lack of sense?

• I am anything but a man of learning, and I am so amazingly ignorant, oh, just like so many others and even more so than others, but I am unable to judge that myself and can judge others even less than myself and am often mistaken. But we pick up the scent as we wander about and there is some good in every movement.

• The world, however, does not reason like that and never sees or respects man's 'humanity' but only the greater or lesser value of the money or goods he carries with him so long as he is on this side of the grave. The world takes no account at all of what happens beyond the grave. That is why the world goes no further than its feet will take it.

#vincent van gogh #the letters of vincent van gogh

54 notes · View notes

bokutoslittlebird · 4 years

Text

In Your Eyes

Bokuto Kōtarō x Chubby!Reader

Author’s Note : There are some dark things in here and if you feel suicidal please do not keep it bottled in. It’s not healthy and needs to be addressed. The really bad stuff isn’t until the middle (right before the smut, basically), so be warned! That’s where the suicidal stuff is and like I said, if you do any of this or feel suicidal please seek professional help because it’s not worth keeping unhealthy feelings inside ; If you are wondering why Bokuto’s obsessed with licking and biting in this, I have been rereading a doujin where Bokuto does that and, well, it’s hot ; I swear this would not have taken me so long if I didn’t keep crying while writing it omg I would be dead if I had a shot every time I had to stop writing so I could wipe my tears and snot. This is why I don’t like to read or write angst but wow was that therapeutic.

Warnings: angst, fat shaming, use of the word “pig”, body dysmorphia (inability to look in a mirror), vomit, suicidal tendencies/intention (via overdose) + implied past actions alcohol, soft!dom Bokuto, choking, creampie(s), mating press+doggy style, licking and biting, facesitting

The cheers of the crowd erupted as the whistle blew. Once again, the MSBY Black Jackals had won. This match was against the Red Falcons, another team in the V.1 division. It was a close call, but Hinata managed to break the deuce with his monstrous quick attack and seal the set with their victory.

The team was jumping and bouncing, giving out high fives as they did. Of course, they had to shake hands with the Adlers, bowing to the audience and thanking them for their support. When Bokuto did his classic ‘Bokuto Beam’ move towards the audience, you could hear the girls squealing and giggling. It isn’t like they didn’t do the same when Atsumu or Hinata waved to them, but it hit you different. After all, they were beautiful in your eyes, slim and flawless.

Oh, yes. You’re the MSBY Black Jackal’s manager, being a classmate of Hinata in his second and third year (as in you tutored him and helped manage the volleyball club with Yachi). Hinata was your first friend, which kind of sounds pathetic. It was, if you were being honest with yourself. Being heavier than the average girl at your school subjected you to bullying and pranks that ended with you crying until you threw up. Hinata never made you feel like that, though. He always made sure you were comfortable and every member of the club at Karasuno treated you like an angel. You ended up applying to be the MSBY manager when Hinata asked, saying they needed a manager and wondered if you could apply. Well, it was either that or finding a job at the circus, as your family would sneer at you. Truly, Hinata was the first to accept you.

Once you got the job, it was like being back at Karasuno, honestly. Everyone was friendly and treated you no differently than they would treat others. However, you wished one of them would treat you differently.

Bokuto.

He was the ace of the team, a goofy fella that could make anyone smile. Including you. Aside from Hinata, he made you feel accepted and made you forget about any woes and horrid thoughts you were facing. He didn’t know about them like Hinata did, but you were sure he’d treat you different if he knew.

Once everything was packed up, you and the coach headed out, the team not too far behind you.

“Shōyō-kun, that was one of yer best sets yet!” Atsumu cheerily piped up, walking behind Hinata. Hinata was right beside you, as he always was.

“I’m glad you think so! I don’t know if we can surprise the Adlers next time, though. Kageyama still knows my tricks,” he huffed as he finished his statement, putting his hair down so he could mock Kageyama. You giggled at his antics.

“Alright, change up and meet at the bus in 10 minutes, let’s go!” Coach commanded. Each member voiced their acquiescence. You decided to use this opportunity to go to the bathroom. After all, their match lasted almost an hour, if not more.

In the restrooms, you were almost done when you heard a bunch of girls giggling as they entered. Instead of leaving, you stayed in place, waiting for them to go.

You wish you hadn’t.

“Gosh, those boys are so attractive!” One of them said. Two voices agreed.

“Have you seen Atsumu and Kageyama? They’re both so hot!”

“I was too focused on that number 12,” oh no, “Bokuto, I think? He’s a good looking man, bet he has the stamina of a god, too,”

“Yeah, it’s a shame their brand is ruined by that mascot of theirs.” What?

“Mascot? Oh! You mean the pig? Yeah, she does put a damper on everything, doesn’t she? Imagine being that attractive and having that thing follow you around!” The girl cackled, her friends following suit. You felt your stomach drop, tears springing in the corner of your eyes as you listened to them.

It was easy to forget you were different when you with the team since they made you feel normal, but that didn’t mean others wouldn’t notice you.

The girls eventually left, the door slamming shut behind them. Whether they came in there to do makeup or just talk shit about you knowing you were in there didn’t matter. Not when you were crumpled up on the floor as sobs wracked your frame. Life sucks.

It’s not like you didn’t try! That’s the other thing! You try to lose weight and nothing happens, exercising doesn’t do much and diets are practically useless. You used to go to the gym, but stopped when you kept getting stares. You also used to run with Hinata in the mornings, but since he was so much faster than you, you stopped. What’s the point if you’re panting and breathless after a minute while he’s still going strong after 30 minutes? It felt like nothing would ever help.

A buzzing interrupted your crying fest, you sniffling as you wipe away the tears and look at the screen. It’s from the groupchat, Hinata asking if you’re okay and they were all at the bus. You typed back a quick ‘K’ and got up. The best you could hope for was nobody would point out the red eyes and the sniffling.

Hinata knew of your troubles, being there for you when you broke down in school more often than not. When you confided that he was the first person you felt comfortable with, it broke him. Seeing you had bottled up your emotions because nobody bothered to listen or care, it made him want to include you in his life. He would invite you over for dinner and his sister would excitedly talk to you, never making you feel uncomfortable. When he heard that you were in Osaka, he immediately called you up about being the MSBY manager.

He also knew of your crush on Bokuto. It was obvious to him, with how you looked at the ace with longing. Hinata even encouraged you to confess, but that was quickly dismissed when you told Hinata how you felt like Bokuto deserved better than someone like you. Bokuto was muscular, attractive, and charming — in your eyes, he deserved to be with someone his equal. That did not mean you. Hinata knew of your troubles, but he also knew of Bokuto’s. Bokuto has a crush on you, too, finding himself more accepted with you around. Contrary to the ace’s personality, he was insecure in a lot of things. He wasn’t very smart, which was often pointed out by others. He knew when someone was upset, though, so he always knew he needed to make you feel better.

Once you arrived at the bus, Hinata greeted you as everyone else had boarded. “What’s wrong?”

“The same old thing, you know,” you sniffle, your voice cracking as you remember the hateful words. Hinata’s face soured as you said those words. Back in high school, he would sit down and cry with you. Now, he was tired of you still being picked on as an adult.

“Immature, that’s what they are. Come on, we’re gonna stop by that restaurant you love.” Oh great, food. You may have been starving when the match ended, but after the incident, you just wanted to go home and cry. You numbly nodded and followed Hinata onto the bus. The coach didn’t bother pointing out anything, but he sent you a sad look when he noticed the red eyes on you. You sadly smiled and continued to your seat, behind the coach as the bus started to move. Curling into your jacket, you tried to think of something else.

The restaurant was a disaster. Everyone had been excited and gotten off the bus when a bunch of fangirls came up to them. You had just smiled and shook your head, feeling better already. At least, you had been until the girls noticed you and gave you looks of disgust. It was short lived, their attention turning back to the boys, so you briskly walked off, into the restaurant, away from the crowd. It took almost 5 minutes for the girls to leave, but you refused to eat anything other than a salad and drink water. Even then, you excused yourself to the restroom to take a break, crying and attempting to force yourself to throw up. Once home, you locked the front door and let your emotions spill out. Crying and screaming was common, so that’s what you did. Then came the process — getting rid of any reflective surface. Turning off the lights, turning on the tv, covering the mirrors with sheets, closing the blinds, shutting out any possibility of looking at yourself. Even with nobody around, those words and looks stuck and struck deep, you eventually curling into yourself on your bed as you cried yourself to sleep.

The next day came, your alarm ringing and the sound bouncing off the walls. You turned it off, completely turning off your phone. Instead of dealing with alarms and people, you’d suffer alone behind the comfort of your home.

The team was worried, you were never late. Bokuto was more pouty than normal, your cheerful greeting missing from his morning and his bear hug. Atsumu also missed your cheerful greeting, asking Hinata if he knew of anything. When Hinata said he did not, he texted and called you, receiving no answer.

Okay, then he’d go to you.

Hinata had stayed at your apartment before, spending the night or just to hang out. Sometimes he brings you food and snacks when you need it, or he just checks on you. He has a spare key in case of anything and he’s glad he does when the door’s locked with no answer. He calls you once more time, knocking until he hears something. It’s faint, but it sounds like movement. So, you’re awake. But not answering the door. Sighing, he unlocks the door.

The apartment is not surprising to him, the windows covered and reflective surfaces covered. He was afraid of this, but he continues on. When he reaches your room, he hears more sniffling and crying. “[Y/N]?”

“Leave me be, Shōyō,”

“[Y/N], please. The team misses you,”

“Fuck off. I’m a charity case to them, I know it. Why else would they keep me around? I should just wallow away,” your voice sounds tired, the thought of the boys sticking with you out of pity a common thought you’ve had.

A thought that isn’t true, but breaks Hinata’s heart. “You know that’s not true. Everyone loves you! Even Bokuto,”

“Shōyō, shut up. Empty words do nothing. Maybe it’d be better if I just... stayed here. Maybe I should just end the misery,”

“Do not. Talk like that. Please.” Hinata’s voice cracks with each word. He knew you were bad, but you could pretend like everything was fine. He should’ve known the harsh treatment yesterday would affect you like this. He should’ve spent the night with you when you ordered a salad and a water. He should’ve told the coach or Meian when you went to the bathroom for 10 minutes that you were trying to throw up. Your lie of there being a line was obvious, a common excuse after a long time away. Hinata felt his chest tighten as he realized you didn’t answer him. “I’m getting Bokuto.”

“Shōyō! Don’t you dare!” Your screams do nothing as he basically runs out your apartment, you flinging the door open to see him gone. You start crying more, afraid that Bokuto will see just how pathetic you are. If he ever looked at you with disgust, the way everyone else does, you don’t know if you could continue on with your life.

Maybe it’d be better that way.

Bokuto doesn’t really know what’s going on, one moment he’s stretching and the next he’s running to the train station with Hinata’s words repeating over and over again.

‘[Y/N] needs you’

Bokuto’s first thought immediately went into the gutters, a blush coating his cheeks until Hinata continued.

‘I think she’s in trouble’

With those two sentences, Bokuto ran off, forgetting his bag and just taking his phone with him. He only needed his phone, really. Strange stares from the public didn’t bother him, he knows he’s still wearing his practice clothes and his knee pads, the material looking like leggings. He made it to the train station before it left, getting on and calling Hinata back.

“Bokuto?”

“I’m on the train, is everything okay?” He was panting, the train station being a bit away from the practice gym. He didn’t even bother sitting, just standing beside the doors.

“I don’t know. She’s.. She’s in a bad place. She won’t listen to me, but she’ll listen to you,” Hinata’s words are slightly muffled, sniffling accompanying his sentence. The words make Bokuto’s chest tighten.

“I don’t know what I can do, you’re her best friend. What could I do?”

“She’s in love with you. Has been for a while, actually. I know you can help her where I can’t. Just — I’ll give you her apartment key when you get to the station. Once I do, please go to her. Please,”

“I—“ Bokuto’s eyes are wide, his face definitely pink now. He’s still worried about you, but the idea of you actually liking him — no, loving him the same way he loves you, it makes him giddy. It gives him the push he needs to make it to you.

As soon as the doors open, there’s Hinata, holding a key ring for him to take. Bokuto doesn’t hesitate, a quick nod in Hinata’s direction before he rushes off to your apartment complex. All of the boys have been to your apartment before, but Bokuto and Hinata are the only ones who know the way to the place. Bokuto has gotten a bit drunk before and ended up crashing at your place, as well as just staying there when practices run late since his place is the farthest away from their practice gym.

Arriving at the apartment, he slides the key in and turns the knob, momentarily confused at the sheets covering your glass coffee table and the TV, but he continues in. He knocks on your bedroom door. “[Y/N]? Are you in here?” When he gets no response, he freaks out. Turning the knob, he notices you’re not in there, but there are more sheets covering things, as well as the blinds being shut. Even more confused, he turns back to the hallway and notices the bathroom door is closed. Fear strikes him as he thinks he knows why you’re not answering — he hopes he’s wrong.

When he opens the door, he realizes he was partially right. With a bottle of wine pressed to your lips, an empty pill bottle in one hand, your eyes wide as Bokuto’s golden eyes met yours. A brief moment of anger flashed across his face before you were forced over the toilet, his thick fingers going down your throat.

“Shtap!” Your muffled voice comes out, gagging around his fingers as he attempts to activate your gag reflex. He doesn’t stop, your squirming easily quelled against his strong grip on your arms pinning them back. You feel the bile rise and then you’re expelling the contents of your stomach into the toilet, coughing and sputtering as the painkillers you just took are now emptied into the porcelain bowl. Bokuto doesn’t let go of you as you cry, trying to get out of his hold.

He doesn’t know what he should bring up first, the fact Hinata called him over or the fact he caught you in the middle of a suicide attempt. You’re screaming and telling him to get off of you, but he instead holds you closer, your sobs fading as tears spill out of his own eyes, staining the hoodie you’re in. “Why would you do that?” He whispers.

You don’t know how to respond to that, instead choosing the phrase, “why not?” His face scrunches up and you don’t know if he’s in pain or angry as he shakes you.

“Why would you do that?! Don’t you know how many people would be distraught over you? Hinata would be inconsolable! Who would TsumTsum and I joke with? Did you even think about that? Did you think about me?” His voice is loud and it makes you cry harder, the weight of his words hitting deep. Bokuto’s been there for you through a lot and you’ve been facing all your problems on your own. “You can’t just do that! That’s selfish!”

“Why would it matter, Bo? What’s the point? I can’t face myself let alone face my feelings! Why not just stop hurting?” You’re both crying, him holding onto you tightly as you dry heave a bit, a stinging in the back of your throat and an arrow in your heart.

“Why can’t you face your feelings? You have Hinata and me!” Before you can tell him something else, he presses his lips to your forehead. You freeze. “I don’t know what I’d do if you left me. I don’t think I could live without you,” He dryly chuckles, tears still streaking down his face. You hiccup and look down, afraid to face him.

“You don’t mean that. You’re trying to make me feel better, I know. Just be honest with your feelings. I’m already low enough, no reason to keep up appearances,” more tears come out as you try to not break into another fit. Bokuto would never look at you the same you looked at him, especially not after seeing you like this. You couldn’t blame him, you look like a mess in your old sweatpants and the old hoodie that felt too tight even if it was one of the largest sizes you could find. Your hair is no better, hasn’t been brushed and you’ve been in bed for a while.

“Hinata said you loved me—“

“Stop,”

“So I came because he said he was worried—“

“You don’t need to say it,”

“If I had been a second later—“

“Stop it, please,”

“I wouldn’t have been able to tell you my feelings—“

“Please, don’t,” you cover your face, tears blurring your vision anyways. Bokuto removes your hands, looking into your eyes. His own are full of warmth and love, not disgust or regret. It makes you cry more, a horrible wail as you dive into his chest. He laughs as his arms wrap around you, comforting in these dark moments.

“I love you, you know? I have for a while,”

“Why? What do you see in me? What could I possibly have to attract you? I’m not—“

“Don’t say it. Don’t say ‘I’m not like other girls’, because everyone’s different. You make me want to be a better man, you make me excited for each new day. Nobody can compare to you,”

“I can’t.. I’m sorry, I can’t trust you. I’ve— I’ve been made fun of for too long, I want to trust you, I want to love you, I want to be with you, but I don’t know if my heart can take another one,”

“Another— what?”

“It’s a long story, I don’t want to bore you,”

“Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he nuzzles your cheek, more tears spilling out as your chest tightens with love.

You decided to explain to him what happened in the past and how you trusted Hinata. Bokuto brought you to your room and made you some tea, brought a bottle of water, and also made you a snack. The thought of eating made you feel sick, but a pouty buff man had you slowly nibbling on the piece of toast. You hadn’t eaten since dinner the previous day, so you wanted to inhale it, but you didn’t think you could stomach it.

After explaining everything to Bokuto, you tried to laugh it off, saying it wasn’t a big deal, but he refused to accept that. A quick call to Hinata to let him know you were okay and that Bokuto would be taking a day off was the next step, letting Bokuto stay with you for the rest of the day. He didn’t want to leave you alone, the fear of almost losing you still making his heart race in a bad way. Even as you just scrolled through InstaGram on your phone, he worried if he left you’d go back to the dark headspace. He couldn’t stop it, but he figured he could prevent it.

The first thing to change your mood is get you in the shower.

When he bounced back into your room, you looked at him from your position. You looked exhausted, the toast only half eaten but the glass was empty. Bokuto shook his head and clicked his tongue. “You need to refresh yourself. Time to take a shower!”

“What are you, my dad? If you want me to do it then make me,” You muttered, snuggling back under the covers. Bokuto closed his eyes and sighed, trying to not say anything sexual.

“I will throw you over my shoulder and into the bathroom. Don’t underestimate me, [Y/N],” the bed dips as he sits on the edge. “I’ll strip you down and wash you if I have to,”

“Why are you so forceful? Damn,” you made it sound like a bad thing, but you were smiling. “Fine, I’ll shower. You don’t gotta wash me, I’m not a baby,”

“But you’re my baby?” He sounded so confused, you freezing half out of the bed. Clearing your throat, you continued.

“Uh, sure. Are you planning on leaving soon? Or..”

“Nope! I’m staying over. I’ll change the sheets while you shower, too!”

“Oh, okay,” you say, numbly getting up to get clothes. With the lack of clean clothes, you have a few shirts and some pajama pants, but your stomach twists as you realize why they’re clean. They don’t fit as nicely as the other clothes, so you face two options: reuse the hoodie you’re wearing or face the humiliation of putting on a tight shirt. Thinking of the restriction, you decide the hoodie would be best. A large pair of pajama pants and a pair of panties is all you take, but Bokuto notices the lack of clothes.

“Are you just changing your pants? You’re showering, right?” Hes rifling through his bag, planning on changing out his practice clothes while you’re in the shower. He doesn’t want to get your clean sheets dirty, after all.

“Um, I’m out of shirts, so.. I’ll just reuse the hoodie,” you shrug, not seeing a problem. His eyes light up as he holds a finger up, digging through his bag once more. Apparently, Hinata dropped it off while you were taking a nap, all that crying had exhausted you. Bokuto smiles brightly as he pulls out his own hoodie, the black hoodie with the golden MSBY brand and the Black Jackal claws. “I don’t think—“

“I’ve been dreaming of you in my hoodie for some time, so this is a perfect opportunity! I’d prefer you to wear this,”

“Uh, I’m pretty big, Bokuto. I don’t think it’ll fit, if I’m being honest,” you look down at the ground, the disgust from earlier rising in your chest. Bokuto just tilts his head to the side.

“I think it’ll fit. It’s pretty big on me, so it’ll fit. If it doesn’t, let me know. I’ll get you something else,” he just shrugs, holding out the hoodie. His name is on the back and in a way, it feels like he’s marking his territory. You take it, thanking him as you head towards the bathroom. If it didn’t fit, you didn’t know what you’d do.

When you finished washing up, you put on the clothes. As big as Bokuto was, you still didn’t expect the hoodie to fit. When it slid on easily, you were highly surprised, but also it took you a moment to collect yourself. Seeing you in his hoodie was something out of your wildest dreams, him even telling you he’s fantasized about it making your body hotter than it should be. You had to calm yourself down before exiting the bathroom, entering the bedroom to see him lying on the bed in sweatpants. That’s it.

“Where the hell are your clothes?!” You cover your face, spreading your fingers a bit to see him stand up excitedly.

“You look so good in my hoodie!” He hugged you tightly, lifting you up a bit.

“Don’t pick me up, put on a shirt!” The only thing separating your skin from his was the hoodie which, well, wasn’t very thick. The zipper itself was as high as it could go but still felt too low.

“Why? Don’t I look good? Are you uncomfortable?”

“Yes, you look good and I’m uncomfortable. This is just a weird situation,” you try to explain... as if you had a shred of dignity left. The laptop propped open with the opening of your favorite movie caught your attention. “Are you gonna watch a movie?”

“We’re gonna watch it! To make you feel better, of course!” He seemed so proud of himself, standing with his fists on his hips as he smiled. You shook your head, rolling your eyes.

“Okay, then. Do you want snacks?”

“Snacks?!”

After getting snacks for the movie, to which he fed you some while you fed him, you ended up falling asleep as you watched the movie. It was nice and warm under the covers and Bokuto’s body heat right next to you helped to lull you to sleep. He didn’t seem to notice you falling asleep until your head hit his shoulder, eyes closed as you peacefully slept. After pressing a kiss to your forehead, he closed to laptop and got comfortable under the sheets. The worry of him losing you was still there, but he kept his arms around you tightly in case it was a dream. Like you, he hoped it wasn’t.

Waking up wasn’t that bad, an urge to quench your dry throat a common thing to wake up to. What wasn’t common, however, was the thing poking your butt. Now fully awake, you tried to shoot up in bed to see what was going on but Bokuto’s arms held you down. It was then you realized what was poking you. Attempting to get his arms off of you was a hard feat, trying to squeeze out of the grip when he moaned. You froze and looked at his face, still asleep. Attempting to move again, he let out another one. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

He was having a wet dream. In your bed. Beside you.

Your immediate thought was who? Your next thought was me? You dismissed that idea, rolling your eyes as if that could happen. Well, until your name came past his lips. You were surprised to hear it, even if he showed and attempted to prove his feelings for you. Him dreaming of you subconsciously? It gave you confidence.

Enough confidence to wake him up and let him continue his dream in reality? No.

But, you didn’t think you’d have another dark episode anytime soon. He didn’t seem to relent his grip on your body, so you dealt with it, staring at the wall in the dark as he continued his noises. Well, at least until he bucked his hips. You gasped as he did, him waking up to your noise. “You ‘kay? Somethin’ wrong?”

Wide eyes looked at him, before glancing down and flickering back up. He follows your eyes and his face goes red. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but the moonlight coming in from the uncovered window illuminates enough. “I am so sorry, I’ll le—“

“Why?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, immediately smacking your forehead. He’s a bit confused from your actions, but you continue. “Um, I’d, uh- I’d like to know what you dreaming about.” Confidence? Yeah, right. You’re practically shaking from the fear of his answer. Of course, it was your name but you could’ve heard wrong, right? Yeah, you—

“My boner speaks for itself, doesn’t it?” Does he have shame? You just look at him so exasperated as he just stares at you, not too sure what you were expecting. “Or do you not know?”

“I— Okay. Was it me?”

“Who... who else would it be?”

“Oh, okay. Why?” You’re both so confused, you not understanding the appeal while he’s not understanding why it’s so weird. Or confusing.

“Why not? I’m in the bed with my girlfriend, longtime crush, who I find extremely attractive? Is this too much? Is it wrong for me to, um, wanna do that? Or dream about it?” No shame!

“I’m still having problems seeing things from your perspective, but okay. Still cannot see the appealing side of me, so it’s just... it’s weird for me to actually realize you like that. You actually,” you gulp, “like me,”

“I’ll say it as many times as I need to, [Y/N]. You’re perfect in my eyes. I want you to see that in your eyes, too,”

“I cannot, if ever, do that. Sorry,” you just shrug, going back to lay down. It isn’t long until he’s straddling you. “What are you doing?”

“I want to make you see things how I do. You gave me this,” he gestured to the bulge in his sweatpants. Looking at it too long scares you, the size scaring you more. “I want you,”

“Oh my god, I’m being dead serious now: you are not gonna like what you see. I’m not attractive, Bo,”

“Let me be the judge of that, hm?” It’s the only thing he says, but you hesitantly nod. He smiles and as much as you want to enjoy it, you’re still shaking. You have no idea what’s coming next, you don’t know what he’s gonna do once he sees what’s underneath and it scares you. So badly. His hands go underneath your—his hoodie, running over your skin. “If you’re scared, I can stop. I don’t want to push you into anything,”

“It’s not that, I just can’t see what you see. But I want to. I want to see myself in your eyes, if you can do that,”

“All you gotta do is give me a signal if you want me to stop. I’ll try my best but you’re gonna have to relax, baby,” he has no idea what his words are doing to you. You just nod as he smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead. He isn’t rough and excited, but rather gentle and soothing. Hands running under the hoodie eventually go up to the zipper, slowly pulling it down. It’s a small thing, but you notice his eyes flickering to your face for any sign of distress. Evening your breathing, you let him completely pull the zipper down as your skin is completely bare to him. You hide your face in shame, ready to apologize and have a million excuses lined up, but he doesn’t let that happen when he starts licking your chest.

“Oh!” Your hands thread through his hair, softer than you expected as it barely brushes against your skin. His eyes are still on you, your fingers moving his strands away so he could clearly see you and you, him. The way his predatory gaze latches onto your face has heat pooling between your legs, rubbing them together to create some kind of friction. Keeping his tongue connected to your skin, his eyes on yours, he moves onto one of your breasts. Popping your nipple into his mouth, he swirls the perked nipple in his mouth as his hand tweaks your other nipple. You’re panting, your head is thrown back as he continues. Soon enough, just rolling your nipples in between his fingers is not enough.

Gathering spit in his mouth, he lets it dribble onto your skin. It’s warm and slick, when he smears it across your other breast as goes back to tweaking your nipples. You look down at what he’s doing only to find him grinning devilishly at you. He then goes down to your stomach, biting into the flesh there. “Bokuto!”

“What? I just wanna taste you,” he shrugs, before licking the area he bit. He has a lot of spit, too, sucking into your flesh and leaving behind a bite mark and his saliva. It’s.. kind of gross, but hot. When he comes back up to your face, he pushes his lips against yours so forcefully that you’re reeling back, mouth opening as he slips his tongue in. It’s a deep, passionate kiss as he runs his hands over your body, squeezing anything he can as he slips his fingers into your pants. “May I?”

“Of course.” Once he has the okay, he moves back down, occasionally leaving love bites as he does. Pulling down your pants, he finds himself face to face with your damp panties. You don’t have time to get embarrassed, however, when he sticks his nose into your crotch and licks the fabric. “What is up with you and licking?” You giggle, finding humor in it. He just pops back up, shrugging. You giggle again, throwing your head back in the pillows. He goes to pull down your panties, sliding them down your legs until they’re completely off. Except for his hoodie, you’re completely naked.

Now if only you could have his cum in you, then would his wet dream be complete. However, there was one more thing he’s always wanted to try, but he’s worried you’ll be against it. “Babe?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No! Nothing’s wrong!” He hates how your mind immediately goes negative. Your shoulders relax and your wide eyes slowly lessen as you realize nothing wrong, yet. “Um, can you sit on my face?”

“Bokuto, I don’t-“

“C’mon, please? I’ve always wanted to try it! Especially between them delicious thick thighs of yours,” he then licked his lips with a resounding moan. Although embarrassed, you roll your eyes.

“If I’m too heavy, let me know. I’ll— I’ll get off,” you prop yourself up on your hands, feeling his spit ooze down your body. “You have a lot of spit. Reminds me of how much you sweat,”

“I produce a lot of liquids, y’know?” If it wasn’t for his wiggling eyebrows as he widely grins, you would not know he meant it to be sexual.

“Lay down!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he excitedly gets on his back, his bulge much more prominent than before now that it’s just there. You can see it. You’re still hesitant, but eventually move to straddle his face. He helps you, easily maneuvering your dripping cunt over his mouth. With his strong hands, he forces you down on top of him to the point where your legs can’t keep you up. You attempt to get up, afraid you’re crushing him but he keeps you firmly planted on his face.

A growl erupts from his throat when he gets tired of your squirming, you halting your movements as you try to calm down. His thumbs run over the skin of your thighs to try and soothe you. And it works. You’re feeling lightheaded as he sucks and licks your cunt and probably makes it messier than it is. He brushes his teeth over your clit, sending shivers down your spine as you moan from the feeling. With a grin, you can tell, he gets to work on tongue fucking you as well as sucking on your clit. It isn’t long until your fingernails are digging into his abdomen as you let out a high moan as you come undone on his face. He moans himself, using his thick tongue to gather up every ounce you produced. He also makes a loud slurping noise as he cleans it up.

You move off of him, panting as you look at him. He looks absolutely blissed out, like he saw Nirvana and Heaven all at once. You smile at him, his own smile wide and proud. He immediately gets up, pushing hips lips against yours once more as he licks the corners of your mouth. He is quickly moving to pull down his sweatpants and boxers, but hesitates. “You sure you want this?”

“You aren’t allowed to stop now,” you giggle as he glows, pulling down his pants. Your eyes go wide as you realize how big he actually is. The bulge in his pants was nothing. It is scary, you wondering if it’ll fit.

“Everything okay? Do you— Do you not want it?” He sounds so sad, you immediately coo at him, forgetting the third leg he has.

“No, no, no baby! It’s just— you’re very big. I did not expect that. Just be gentle, yeah?”

“Of course!” Another kiss to your lips, this one more of a peck than a passionate open mouthed kiss. “Can you get on your hands and knees?” You listen to him, rolling over on your stomach before getting in position. This way, you don’t have to worry about seeing him and can focus on what he’s doing, so it’s better in a way. Really, Bokuto just wants to end the night with you on your back and he plans on having you shaking from multiple orgasms before it’s over. He guides his cock to your entrance, a shaky breath leave him as his tip brushes against your folds. You shiver yourself, feeling yourself about to cry, but you wait.

Once he pushes into you, the tears come out for a different reason. “I’m sorry, it’ll feel better in a moment,” he licks your cheek, nuzzling you. You nod as you try to relax, him continuing to push into you. It isn’t until he nudged against your cervix does he stop. Even then, he is still not completely in you. He focuses on evening his breathing, inhaling your shampooed hair. It’s hard to not blow his load so quickly, you squeezing him so tightly. You’re nice and snug, though, your walls eventually relaxing as he stays inside.

“You can— you can move, Bo,”

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling out only to roughly thrust into you. You lurch forward from the thrust, immediately dropping your mouth open to moan as he sets a steady pace. It’s not fast or slow, but he’s definitely rough with his thrusts. It’s the grunts that really do you in, the way his hands grab at your ass and hips, sounds of pleasure coming from his as sinks his cock into your cunt that has you tightening around him. With a mewl, you have another orgasm and he curses, a low “shit” coming out as he struggles to pull out. He leans down to put his mouth next to your ear, biting the shell as he continues. He doesn’t even break a sweat as he does, stilling himself deep inside you as he lets out a low groan, your eyes scrunch together as you whimper. His cum fills you up to the brim, his hips swiveling to make sure he’s all done.

Well, for that round.

You’re panting heavily as he leaves you, leaning back as he watches your legs shake. His cum oozes out of you, your cunt clenching as it makes more pour out. It’s a beautiful reality, but he wants more. You’re soon flipped onto your back as he is over you again, his hands on the back of your knees, pushing them up. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not a very comfortable position, either. Confusion is etched in your face as he does, but his lidded eyes as he licks his lips tell you he’s not done. You’re exhausted, but he’s not.

He wastes no time in sinking himself back into you, his eyes focused on your face as you moan. His grin is almost evil, the way his lips stretch as he bottoms out inside you before roughly thrusting into you. It didn’t take long for another orgasm to start to buildup in you, your head thrown back as your back arches, your head turned to the side as he leans down to lick and bite your collarbone, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. His hands find yours, intertwining his fingers with yours as he brings them up to your head. You focus on the way his arms flex, the muscles bulging with each thrusts as he puts every ounce of effort into the action. It really shows to how much he loves you and your body.

Even with all the marks on your body, even with all the places he’s touched and licked, that gnawing thought of you worrying nags him. The thought that you’ll still not know just how much he loves you. The thought that you’ll think it was a one time thing. He needs to know you know. He needs to know you’re seeing things in his perspective now. One hand leaves yours, it finding itself around your throat.

“Say my name,” he grunts, alternating his gaze between your face and his cock disappearing inside you. It’s something he’ll never get over. Maybe next time, he can record you two.

“B-Bo—“

“No, my given name. I want you to scream it,” his grip on your neck gets tighter, your walls tightening at the same time. He groans as he throws his head back, his thrusts slowing down as he drags his cock against your walls. “I want your neighbors to know who’s fucking you,”

“You, Kōtarō!” You loudly moan, humming in pleasure as he picks up the pace.

“Who’s making you feel this good? Who does your little cunt belong to?”

“God, you! It belongs to Kōtarō!” You scream, your eyes rolling back as his hands go back to under your knees, pushing them up to your chest. It’s hard to breathe, but you’re clamping down on his cock as a sheen of white forms around it, your slick dripping down your ass and down his balls. The last urge he needed to fuck you like an animal was that, you screaming his name. Your ands wrap around his neck, the material of his jacket rubbing against his thick neck as your nails take down his back. Hissing, he fucks you faster and harder, determination set to get you to one more orgasm. It doesn’t take long, your mouth hanging open as you come undone for one last time, him burying himself as far as he can as he spills another load into you. It’s heavy and fulfilling, but it’s wonderful. A wonderful feeling of being loved.

As you both come down from your highs, he gives you another sloppy kiss. Instead of pulling out, he released your legs and lays on his side, taking you with him.

“Shouldn’t we clean up?”

“That can wait. I don’t wanna leave quite yet,” he pants out, another sloppy kiss. Like he can’t get enough.

Really though, he can’t. He loves you too much

#haikyuu x reader #bokuto x reader #Mr. Kōtarō #bokuto smut #BB.Kinky #BB.Angst #Bokuto.Angst #Bokuto.Spice #tw.alcohol #tw.suicide mention #tw.blood #cw.food #tw.fat shaming #cw.razors #body dysmorphia #body dysmorphic disorder #tw.overdose #haikyuu smut

368 notes · View notes