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ashlayan · 4 months

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Overworked

I'm late but happy bday Horropedia 🥺🫶🏻

Tw: SFW, written with a fem reader in mind, a smol amount of angst followed by much fluff.

Pairing: Horropedia (Joshua) x reader.

May this year witness the freedom of Palestine 🇵🇸🇵🇸

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Work in the Foundation was usually fine, the fact you were a Supervising Field Agent usually meant you got assigned, well, interesting field work. But sometimes the higher ups would demand evidence to backup your mission report "Claims", be it for a trial, or an open investigation, and you would need to spend all nighters sifting through both your and your subordinates' files, as well as archived news articles, archived books, archived tapes, or really anything that could be of use.

To say all that left you mentally exhausted would be an understatement.

More than anything, it makes you yearn to finish up work quickly and go home for a hot bath and indulge in your guilty pleasure: Romance Stories.

You're pretty sure anyone of your colleagues hearing about that hobby would be more likely to think they're being pranked than actually believe it.

You, who worked hard and rose quickly within the ranks of the foundation, despite your young age.

You, who thanks to your constant networking and relentless hard work, was the youngest to be awarded with the title of Field Supervisor, bar Vertin of course as she's the Timekeeper.

Exactly why, when asked, you would usually give the far more acceptable "Tennis" as an answer. Really at this point only very few people have any clue about your obsession, and only because they were your classmates back in your more innocent and naive school days. People like this fool who came unannounced, sitting uninvited on your office couch, thoroughly distracting you from your urgent task.

"And then, we're thinking the main character would be revealed to have actually been the real villain all along! Like the serial killer will still remain a separate person, but the way Blonney's thinking of doing it is making Jessica turn out to be even more terrifying!! We'll drop hints throughout the film and-"

And so he goes, on and on. He even stands up and starts pacing as he bothers you further.

You want to groan. This annoying, silly, helpless, cute, sweet, adorkable fool.

"Aren't you supposed to be grounded?" You say deadpan, "What are you even doing here?"

Horropedia stops and turns, facing you properly, "So you can talk!" He practically cries out with mock shock, his face a mask of "disbelief". "Here I thought you'd gone mute, turns out you were just ignoring me." He says as he walks over and plops down on a chair facing your desk.

You roll your eyes refusing to play along. "Some of us have work to get done, Joshua. We're not children anymore, it's high time you start acting like an adult and quit those silly, childish stories."

"Oh?" He says smugly, but you can tell you've definitely hit a nerve by calling him Joshua instead of his preferred nickname. He then proceeds to take a long look around your office, craning his neck this way and that.

You're not sure what he's planning but it can't be anything good.

"Bingo." He says just under his breath as he stands back up and heads for the cupboard you use as a make shift file cabinet. You tense slightly but remind yourself to keep a cool and aloof facade.

He places one hand against a compartment's door and asks: "So then, there isn't a hidden stash of silly, childish romance novels right in here?" He asks, tapping a finger against it.

Go big or go home. "Please, I outgrew that nonsensical hobby ages ago, do you honestly think I have the time to-"

Horropedia then grabs the door handle without permission and proceeds to yank it open-

Or he would have if the door wasn't locked shut. It doesn't even budge.

You smile smugly. "Did no one teach you going through people's belongings is bad manners?"

"Coming from the person who used to steal from my candy stash? I don't wanna hear it." He says dismissively, now focused on intently staring down your cupboard's lock.

You blush, because he's bringing back embarrassing childhood memories of your's, definitely not because he looks really hot when he stops being a lovable goof, or because of the way the light hits his side profile just right and he looks so serious in a rare picturesque way-

You snap yourself out of your reverie just as he brings something out of his utility belt, you blanch when you realize what it is.

"Seriously? Lockpicks? Who goes around carrying those?! Wait- is that how you got out of confinement?!"

Horropedia ignores you and gets immediately to work.

You spring up and rush towards him, only to arrive a second too late as he opens the cupboard with a dramatic flourish, revealing far too many books with cutesy artworks for covers, some with even more tantalizing titles. In fact, their were so many that they proceeded to slide down and out of the compartment, forming a sizeable pile on the floor.

Your stash now exposed, you do the next best thing and head straight for the open office door instead to shut it. This however is far from ideal.

You turn around slowly and as expected, the dork is giving you and adora- Infuriating smirk.

"How. How did you know they were in there-"

"Relax Short-Stuff, I just know you too well." He says, almost preening with pride at his "accomplishment".

You frown, "Don't call me that."

"Don't call me Joshua." He fires back.

You don't reply, and instead take a silent step towards him, then another.

Alarm starts bleeding into his expression, as he himself takes a step back while throwing a glance at the closed door behind you, no doubt gauging the distance in case you decide to attack.

Instead you ignore him and bend down to start gathering your precious but embarrassing treasures.

"What was that about knowing me so well?" You say offhandedly.

"Well- you used to tackle people who pissed you off so- I mean- Forget it."

Now with you both feeling defeated, he bends down to help you gather the books and says: "When do you even find time to read all of these? Everytime I see you you're either writing a report, heading to a mission or coming back from one."

"The car rides are usually pretty quiet, I can read them in peace as long as I hide the covers." You say without looking up.

After a moment of Horropedia not saying anything back or moving to help you, you look up.

"What?" You snap. You know that look, he's judging you. "If you have something to say say it."

"No, no, it's not like that I just... Do you ever get any rest? I'm pretty sure you even work weekends, and I heard you do volunteer work too. This isn't healthy is all I'm thinking."

You blink. Well yes, he does have a compassionate and sweet side too, it's usually hidden by his general tomfoolery though so you tend to forget about it. You also didn't expect him to be keeping an ear out for news about you, it's not like the two of you chat all that often either. You're caught sufficiently off guard that you now have your mouth hanging slightly open with no sounds coming out.

"Earth to (Y/N), you there?" He snaps his fingers a couple of times, and when you're still silent he sighs and continues gathering your babies- your books, and springs back up to stuff them in your cupboard, then dusts his hands off.

You're looking up at his standing form and damn, he actually looks really good from this angle, really accentuates his already impressive height-

This time he forgoes trying to talk to you and just grabs your from the waist and lifts you back to your feet, giving you a quick pat on the shoulder for good measure before letting you go.

Then he seems to think something over and places a hand on your forehead.

"You're not running a fever, but your zoning out is really out of character for ya. Good thing it's 6 already, you can clock out now." He says with a gentle smile.

The smile isn't exactly rare for him, but it also isn't something he usually gives you.

Ever since you set your sights on climbing the corporate ladder... You have been pushing everyone away, even those most precious to you. You've been taking on more and more, piling the tasks and duties up to the point where, sometimes, you just want to do something crazy and impulsive, to get the load off your shoulders even for a short while.

He's still gazing at you, but his smile is wavering. He's still waiting for an answer though.

You consider what would happen if you say yes to clocking out now, if you even gather some additional courage and ask him to hang out? As friends of course! For old times sake! But then again, if you're already that far, what if you ask him out for real? Maybe just for today, you can ignore the far too many responsibilities piled high on top of you and just-

You shake your head. "No sorry, I'm actually spending the night here, I have a lot of work to get done. I know you want to leave though, so you go on ahead, don't worry I won't rat you out so no one should come to drag you back to the school." You say with a chuckle, and wait for him to get going.

But he doesn't move. You can't read his expression, and the way the light hits his glasses isn't helping. Finally what he says is: "I guess you haven't changed that much after all."

Saying you're bewildered would be an understatement. "Huh?"

He loudly sighs, throwing his head back for added effect as he massages the bridge of his nose.

When he's looking back at you his glasses are now sitting crookedly on the space and you have to hold back the urge to reach up and fix them.

Two hands are now on your shoulders, as if to stop you from escaping the truth. "Listen." He says very seriously, all traces of his usually cheery voice gone. "I'm going to say this as plainly as possible. You're working yourself to the bone. I get it, you have some bigger picture in mind, some larger goal that I probably can't see and you're throwing everything trying to reach it but consider this. Maybe it's just not worth it. Not if you'll die long before you get to it within whatever crazy time limit you've set for yourself. Come on (Y/N), you're a field agent for God's sake, how lame would it be if you bite the dust from overworking on reports?!"

He's panting slightly, that speech was clearly coming from the heart and you really appreciate it, you really do, but ever since he first came in today you've had a nagging suspicion you've been trying to stamp down, but it was time to address the elephant in the room.

"Joshua. Why do you care so much? Because honestly the way you're talking right now..." You take a deep breath, "The way you sought me out today, the way you say all of this... I don't want to sound arrogant, but am I correct to assume that- that-"

You can't do this, if you're wrong what's left of your already dwindling friendship with him might be the price.

You back away from him. "I'm sorry never mind, forget I said anything, I'll keep your advice in mind so please just-" just go! I don't want you here when I cry!

But he must see something on your face because he's pulling you in for a hug. It feels so familiar so right that you can't help but melt into it. The exhaustion finally seems to catch up to you and you can't imagine having to trek the walk back to the dorms, much less get any more work done tonight.

You almost miss it, but you just barely make out the words "Yes, you are correct."

And that wakes you right back up.

You push back and straighten up, and he's immediately startling with you. "W-what?" He asks, looking absolutely adorable. This time, you do reach over and right his glasses.

"What did you just say? You whispered something just now, did I hear it right?" You stare at him intently, your gaze unwavering and determined.

He looks to the side, "Don't look at me like thaaaat." He quite literally whines.

"Like what?" You ask, finding yourself genuinely curious as to what he sees in your expression.

He looks back, "Like I'm one of your high priority missions. Don't give me hope if you don't mean it (Y/N)."

You're tired from a long, mentally exhausting day. Your brain to mouth filter is gone, but then again it usually is around Horropedia. You are not thinking straight but you kinda never are around this man.

You grab his necktie and snatch it down, dragging him with it. Your lips are on his in a second, he's reciprocating (thank goodness) the kiss in the next.

When the two of you break it off for air he has the widest grin he has ever given you. No not ever, but in a long time. The intense nostalgia is the last addition to the melange of feelings churning inside of you and the tears finally fall freely.

Predictably, Horropedia panics.

"I'M SO SORRY?! I DON'T KNOW WHAT I DID BUT I'M SORRY?!?! WAS IT THE KISS? IT WAS THE KISS WASN'T IT-"

You quickly cover his mouth before he broadcasts any more private information to the whole office floor.

"Shhhh! Calm down! I just... I just needed a good cry I guess..." You end meekly, wiping your tears away.

Horropedia stares at you wide eyed. In another situation this would be the perfect teasing material, (Y/N) actually knows how to cry?! Or something along those lines, but evidently even he has better sense than to do that, so he instead silently hugs you again, and doesn't tighten his hold until you hug him back.

You could stay in his arms forever, which sounds cliche but isn't that amazing? That you could get to think of something so silly and cliche instead of the probability of success of your next mission strategy? You take a small step back without letting go, just to look at the wall clock and debate what to do next. You can tell Horropedia is eagerly waiting for your decision with bated breath. Finally you pull yourself out of the hug.

Only to grab your purse and keys, then quickly come back to his side.

"Alright. You win, what's the plan now?" You ask, twisting a scarf high around your neck to hide your excitement.

He frowns slightly, and hesitantly asks. "Do you still suffer from insomnia?"

Of course he remembers. "It's better now but yes." Is your answer.

"Then we go on the most anti-insomnia date to help you sleep!" He announces, opening the door for you.

You chuckle and head out, waiting for him to follow so you can lock your office.

"And where are we going?" You fiddle with your keys, slipping one in the lock.

"To your dorm room?" He asks more then answers.

You freeze. "Moving a little fast there don't you think?" You turn to face him.

He flushes bright red. "Noooo!! I knew you would misunderstand!!! I meant because your bed is there and you could go straight to sleep once you feel like it!!!"

You giggle. "Oh I know, just teasing." You say wiggling your eyebrows.

He gasps "You! I! Why you! Hmph!" He turns and walks on ahead, but there's a spring in his step and he's headed towards your dorm, so you know he's not actually mad. You jog to catch up to him.

"Geez Joshua, not all of us have long legs wait up!"

And he does slow down, but he also throws you a question. "Why do you keep calling me Joshua? At first I thought it was to annoy me, but that can't be right. So what's your reason?"

You consider this carefully. After everything that just happened, admitting this truth hardly feels like such a hard challenge. You talk as you walk.

"More than one reason I guess... For starters it's what I've always known you as... Despite what I said before, you actually have changed in a lot of ways, heck you used to be shorter than me." You laugh a bit, "The name feels like all I have left from back then." You say with a sigh.

He keeps silent, probably guessing there's more, so you continue, "Also... Well, this is a bit embarrassing but everyone calls you Horropedia... I guess I kinda felt special by being the only one calling you Joshua. It's silly I know."

Horropedia stops walking and grabs your hand, halting you too. He's silent for a moment before he croaks out, voice clearly emotional "You can call me whatever you want." Then he goes back to walking while still holding onto your hand, pulling you along. And that's that.

He walks you all the way to your dorm room then stops.

"You're not coming in? You didn't change your mind already did you?" You ask half jokingly but also kinda worried.

"Nope! I'll go bring my tv and some supplies, I'll be back in an hour or so, that way you'll have time to freshen up and maybe relax for a bit?" He says with a small smile, and ruffles your hair lightly.

You blink, then processing the first part of his sentence you ask: "Why are you bringing your TV? I have a TV."

"You do?" He sounds surprised.

"Of course, how else would I be able to play my romance film tapes?"

His mouth forms an "o" shape. "That actually makes sense, I don't know why I didn't think of that. Well there's still other stuff to be brought but this definitely helps save time, alright see you soon." He gives you a quick hug before parting ways.

Now home, you proceed to tidy up the dorm room and hop in the shower, then get dressed in a comfortable but cute outfit and style your hair into something more relaxed and comfy.

You head to your wardrobe and start opening the large bottom drawers you use to store blankets and pillows, and start constructing a pillow fort on the rug, facing the television.

It's not long until you hear a knock at your door, and with less restraint then you would usually allow, you rush towards it and swing it wide open to reveal a-

A pile of shopping bags and a plushie?

"A lil help here? Actually can you let me in?" You hear Horropedia's voice as he tries to right one of the bags sliding down with his knee.

"Ohhhh!" You intone, mesmerized, "A talking pile of bags and a plushie!"

"Haha, very funny." Horropedia's head pops up and despite his words he's definitely amused.

You quickly begin grabbing the bags closest to you and realize they're pretty much all filled with snacks and fizzy drinks... All of which you know for sure are nothing like those issued by the foundation.

"Where did you even get these?" You ask, as the both of you drag the bags inside. From the corner of your eyes you notice him taking extra care not to drop the relatively large plushie.

"Oh you know, I have my ways~" He replies, going for a mysterious tone.

Do his "ways" include Vertin's suitcase? Probably. But you don't say anything, let him have his moment.

When everything is set up nicely around your pillow fort, you turn to ask him what you're watching when you find him on one knee, dramatically presenting you with the stuffed toy.

"Will you do me the great honor, of accepting my humble offering?" He asks solemnly.

You burst out laughing "Wha- what are you doing..?" You wheeze.

You bend down to grab the plushie and admire it, it's a nice medium size, aka the perfect hugging size.

"I thought you might need a little friend to keep you company as we watch-" He takes out a film tape with a flourish "This movie!"

You blanch. "Is this one of your horror films? Are you serious? I thought we were trying to put me to sleep not keep me up all night." You say with an exasperated shake of your head.

"No no listen, you're used to romance movies, they're no good to help you sleep anymore or they would've worked by now right? Maybe what you need is something to wring out all the nervous energy from you so you can relax!"

Somehow that both makes some sense and no sense at once. But then you have a realization.

You pretend to think it over. "I don't know, even if what you say could hypothetically work, and while your gift is cute, I just don't feel like it's huggable enough, you know?"

His face falls slightly. "Oh? You don't like it do you? I knew I should've brought a bigger one-"

"No, what I'm saying is, it's not the same as cuddling with a warm human being."

You wait for the mostly genius yet sometimes dumb dumb young man in front of you to connect the dots. You can tell he did when his face is the shade of a ripe strawberry.

"OH! Ohhhh!! Oh. Yeah, yeah we can definitely uh- cuddle. As much as you want. Of course."

You laugh "Dude we were just hugging and kissing in my office! Why are you getting all shy on me now?" You tug him along by the arm to set up the film.

"I knoooow," he whines, "it's just this is a step further ok? And that was an I'm-really-worried-about-her hug, and the kiss was a very emotional moment my brain just wasn't braining!"

"Whatever you say." You reply as you poke his right cheek. "You're cute though so it's fine." You giggle.

You wait for him to berate you about calling him, the horror genre enthusiast and connoisseur "cute", but all he does is stare at you with a dopey smile, just making you melt.

"Are you sure we can't just watch a romance movie?" You ask softly.

"Nah, we're being our own romance movie right now." He says as he grabs your hand and hoists you up with him, leading you back to the pillow fort. "You'll pick the movie next time."

The screen turns on, displaying the title of the horror movie you settled on. “It’s a classic!” Horropedia says, clearly excited to share the movie with you.

As you both sink into the pillows, the opening title sequence of the film begins playing.

As the horror style music plays, you notice Horropedia lean in his body closer to yours, careful to not make it seem like he was trying to get nearer.

"You can come closer I don't bite," you say jokingly, "and if I was uncomfortable with having you here I wouldn't have mentioned cuddling in the first place."

Horropedia's face turns fully red as he realizes he was not being subtle.

"Yeah... sorry."

His body shifts, and he slides one arm around your shoulders. He then speaks, barely above a whisper, "Can I get a hug now...?"

"I didn't know you were the clingy type Joshua," you start to tease, "and before even the first jumpscare hap-" but you immediately get interrupted by a joke jumpscare, a character that is not the antagonist innocently scaring their friends as a prank, yet embarrassingly managing to startle you "Eeep-" your hands instinctively grab onto the nearest object, which of course has to be his torso.

Oh dear lord. You sigh internally.

You look up at his face, finding he at least has the decency to try and stifle his laughter, though he wasn't succeeding much. But his droopy eyes were crinkling at the sides, and his smile was just too beautiful so you couldn't get mad.

Horropedia chuckles at your expression, probably finding the irony amusing, and the fact it was a fake jumpscare that did you in.

He then quickly pulls you closer to give you that hug you were just teasing him about not a moment ago.

You feel your head lean against his shoulder as he pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you as you both settle further into your cozy pillow fort setup.

"This doesn't count you hear? I wasn't scared or anything, I'm just a bit jumpy." You say, trying to preserve your dignity. The last thing you need is the no.1 horror enthusiast to misunderstand and think you're a scaredy cat, you would never hear the end of the teasing.

You could feel his chest vibrating with laughter underneath you, and he reaches up with the opposite hand and ruffles your hair.

"Uh-huh." Is all he says.

~~~~~~

By the time the movie ends, you're already sound asleep. Horropedia carefully untangles your limbs and carries you off to bed. The day did not go as he'd expected, he'd go as far to say it went more like his fantasies then actual reality.

He tucks you in carefully, being mindful to jostle you as little as possible. He's fairly certain if you go on a second date (you probably will right? This date went great right?!?!) you won't settle for anything other than one of your romance movies.

Not that he minds, really. After today he doesn't think he'll be looking at the characters on the screen with jealousy or disgruntlement. He also thinks he'll enjoy whatever you pick.

He glances at your alarm clock. Oh it was late. He'd better get moving, while he has more freedom under Vertin's supervision now he still shouldn't push his luck. He decides he'll tell you tomorrow about his new, more flexible work arrangement.

He heads for the dorm room entrance, opening and closing the door softly behind him. His last thought before leaving is he'll have to ask what you thought of his movie pick tomorrow.

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From the river to the sea PALESTINE WILL BE FREE ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸.

If you pray, please pray for Gaza and the Westbank 🙏🏻🙏🏻

#r1999 #reverse 1999 #gacha games #fanfic #horropedia #joshua #horropedia x reader #Horropedia x y/n #Horropedia x You

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jcmarchi · 5 months

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Liberty Ladd: Going above and beyond

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/liberty-ladd-going-above-and-beyond/

Liberty Ladd: Going above and beyond

Liberty Ladd has been drawn to public service and fighting injustice from a young age. At 15, as a student representative from the first congressional district of Maine, she testified to the state board of education about unfair grading policies at her school. Later, she decided to join the Air Force, with the understanding that military experience would put her on a path to ultimately making a difference on issues such as voting rights and services for U.S. veterans.

With her interest in politics — policymaking in particular — Ladd knew she wanted to study political science entering MIT. Also wanting a double major in a STEM field, she selected mechanical engineering. Ladd expects to graduate in the spring with bachelor’s and master’s degrees in political science and a bachelor’s in mechanical engineering, and has participated in the Air Force ROTC throughout her time at MIT.

Following graduation, Ladd will serve in the United States Space Force for a minimum of five years. Ladd hopes to be a positive force in shaping the new military branch to avoid inequalities faced in other older branches. She says she will stay as long as she feels she can make an impact, but she eventually wants a career in policymaking.

MIT News interviewed Ladd to learn more about her life as a student.

Q: What are your communities on campus?

A: I’m on the varsity field hockey team. Sophomore year, Covid sent us all home, so we got one extra year of eligibility. I was here for my master’s, so I figured I’d play one more year. It’s been a really fantastic support network on and off the field. Some of my closest friends are on the team.

I’m in the United States Space Force and I am in the Air Force ROTC Reserve Officer Training Corps program through MIT. Through ROTC on campus, I was the vice commander of our wing, where I was in charge of the operational and logistical operations of our training program.

I used to be on the MIT Mock Trial team, which I joined because I wanted to be a lawyer — or used to want to be a lawyer. I stayed because the team is just super fun, and we’re all really close now.

Q: What responsibilities does ROTC at MIT entail?

A: Freshman and sophomore year, you’re learning what the military is and what it does. The juniors and seniors are responsible for crafting the curriculum to prepare the underclassmen to go to field training and graduate. So, what that looks like is a lab for two hours every week, and then you have two physical training sessions a week in the mornings, and you also have Air Force or aerospace studies. Then you go to field training the summer after your sophomore year. When you come back it’s the same two-hour lab, the two hours of PT [physical fitness] a week, and then also a three-hour class.

Q: When did your journey in the military start?

A: I discovered that ROTC was a program my junior year of high school. After, I decided to serve. I didn’t know what the mechanisms were for getting there. Honestly, I didn’t even know what an officer was. But I [saw] the way that the United States treats our veterans. It’s inhumane: We’ve got mental health crises, homelessness crises with our veterans, and seeing the lack of effectiveness from policies that were set out as solutions got me thinking that I wanted to make a difference in that.

But I also knew that if I ever wanted to make policies that would help to address those crises, no one would listen to me if I had never served. So, that was my initial motivation for serving. I also knew that serving my country was something that would allow me to make a big impact at a young age.

And then I also started to learn about some of the inequities within the military, both when it comes to treatment of women and minorities, and institutionally. We’ve got a certain percentage of our members living on SNAP programs while they’re serving the military. They’re focused on trying to figure out ways to keep food on their family’s table while also putting their lives on the line for our freedom and safety. These are things that I think are untenable, but I wouldn’t be able to fix unless I was in there to kind of work within the system to make those changes.

Q: What inspires you to take on such large institutions?

A: It stems from hating to see the wrong thing being done, or people being treated poorly. Whether it be because of my political privilege of attending MIT or being a white woman, if there’s a situation where I sense that I have some sort of privilege, it feels like my responsibility to do something because I have the option of being okay when some of my peers don’t.

Q: Why pursue a second major in mechanical engineering?

A: Effective policymakers can’t afford to be ignorant about the science and technology advances that drive our society. Engineering design is an unusual but helpful background to have when making intentional, effective policy decisions.

Q: Have you encountered any situations recently in which you felt motivated to take action?

A: The big one that jumps to mind is what happened to my peers in ROTC our sophomore year. The Air Force decided to cut people in the program who were in my class, and they cut practically 50 percent. From my peers’ perspectives, they were losing opportunities to be an officer in the Air Force and some of them were losing their opportunity to go to college at all. I felt incredibly helpless.

Our regional commander happened to be in the area and was going to have lunch with some of the cadets. And I was like, “Perfect, I’m going to show him why the way that they were choosing which cadets got to stay was untenable, unfair, and hurting the needs of the Air Force.” Did that change his mind? I don’t know. But fortunately, the Air Force did change course: While not all my peers were allowed to rejoin, a large majority were. It’s the first experience that I had with how frigid the bureaucracy can be toward the people it’s supposed to be protecting. But it also made me realize that working within the system, I can make change as well.

Q: What would your 5-year-old self say to you today?

A: What’s field hockey? What’s an engineer? She would probably wonder why I wear so much pink and wear so many dresses. Five-year-old Liberty wanted to be as strong and tough and smart as the boys. I rejected everything stereotypically feminine. What society told me was that weak was feminine. I would tell her: You can be just as strong as the guys you meet and just as smart, and you can wear a pink pantsuit. I promise you; it will be okay.

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rediscoveringrenewingreviving · 1 year

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Mom

Thank you all for being here today. Mom was loved by many and did her best whenever she could. One of the things I love most about my mom is that there was no middle, or halfway. Anything she did she committed to wholeheartedly and wanted to make better to the extent that she could. Throughout my life, many of you have referred to me as little Linda. Understanding the incredible compliment that is, I will do my best to live up to that today.

While my mom was many things to me and our relationship took many forms over the years, what I want to talk to you today about are some of the lasting legacies she instilled in me as an advocate, a speaker, a woman of God, and a wife and mother.

My mom was my first speaking coach and that was a role she took very seriously. As a distinguished toastmaster, it was not uncommon even as children for her to correct our grammar mid sentence, count my “umm” in a story or display how irritated she was by my use of the word like. She also made known, over and over again that I talked too fast. So today, I’ll make sure to slow down mom. Because i want people to hear just how amazing you are.

When I was in the sixth grade, I tried out to read the morning announcements over the PA system at school, and I was really excited about it. However, after auditioning, my teacher said that I did not have the personality for reading the morning announcements. I came home and told my mom, assuming the fight was over. My mom scheduled a meeting with the assistant principal and teacher the next morning to ask what about my personality wasn’t conducive for reading the announcements. After going around and around for a few minutes the administration decided it was a hearing error on my part and that of course I would be allowed to read the announcements. As we left the meeting and I went to school my mom said, “I believe you. I know they said that to you. But it’s not time to argue that, what is most important is now you get to do what you wanted to do.” But what’s most important is my mom never forgot them saying that me, even after I did. She sent them clips of whatever I did after that: whether it was plays in middle school, being a radio DJ in high school, mock trial in college. When I launched my podcast two years ago, she mentioned she would have sent them that too but couldn’t find their emails anymore. I said mom let those people rest, I’m grown now its fine. She said no, imagine if you had listened to them and let that keep you down. They need to know how wrong they were. Thank you mom for never letting up and believing in me when people said otherwise.

Growing up in the Green house, our faith was essential and included in everything we did and everyone knew it. A major element of that was my parent’s now 35 year long marriage with Christ as the center. My mother had a long history of being quite vocal that she believed divorce to be the worst thing in the world. Which is why 2 years ago, as I stared divorce in the face, in addition to all of the grief that came with that, being filled with the fear of shame it would bring my family. When I called her to tell her, I was expecting a lecture about the importance of marriage, what I found was a love and grace that I could have never imagined. She could have elevated herself and her marriage over me, or reminded me about the house I grew up in and what was required in marriage. Instead She listened to me and asked questions that centered my health and well being far beyond any image and perspective I had of her in the past. And she continued doing that for the next two years. She never got ahead of me or told me what to do. She walked with me through that process and supported me every step of the way. In a time I thought she might cast me out, she drew me nearer and loved me harder which I can only attribute to the Christ within her. Thank you mom for loving me through one of my lowest points and showing the true grace of a woman of God when given an opportunity.

Proverbs 31 tells us that a godly woman watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idleness and we all know idle is not something my mother would be. Whether it was working in ministries at the church, keeping up with her friends, cooking or taking care of family, she always made sure her affairs were in order— and if she had time left she would help you with yours too.

My mom and I spoke every day and talked about news and work and my siblings and friends and the overall mundane elements of each others lives. We’d talk about themes and menus for parties we were planning and chime in about ways to add to it. We talked about things we were looking forward to, like Blaire’s birthday or what her and dad would do to celebrate 40 years. Of course we are always mother and daughter, but in these last few years we settled into an ease of friendship that I will truly miss. In addition to being seen and loved as her child, I also felt understood more wholly as a woman. And in addition to being my mom, I developed an exceptional admiration and respect for Linda Gail Anderson Green, an incredible woman who loves fiercely the people around her and no matter the fight is definitely the person you want on your team. I love you Ma, and I am honored and grateful to be your daughter. Say hi to Gamby, Gdaddy, and Ms. Angela for me. We will see you later.

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uncpanda · 3 years

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From Beginning to End: Chapter 5

Synopsis: When you meet Aaron Hotchner in high school you don’t expect him to be the love of your life. You certainly don’t expect him to give you the courage to leave a toxic family behind for a teenage marriage and a life so wonderful that you never could have imagined it.

AN: Shout out to @hotchinkevlar and @originalsoulduck for their help with this chapter!!! Thank you so much!

AN 2: We have entered the year 1997. Reader and Aaron are 24.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Master List

“Well hello there, handsome.”

You watch as Aaron’s head shoots up, his focus suddenly gone as a smile takes over his face. He tosses his pen onto his desk, and leans back in his seat. He stares at you for a second before pushing out of his seat, striding across the room, and enveloping you in a hug.

He picks you up and spins you in a circle. You squeal. Your feet land back on the ground, and then you find yourself being kissed. When Aaron pulls back you’re a little breathless, “When did you get in? Your plane wasn’t supposed to land until tonight.”

You shrug, “Thought I would surprise you. The meetings in Kyoto ended early and I caught an earlier flight. Then I figured I’d come see my very sexy husband at work.”

He chuckles, brings you further into his office, and closes the door. “Well, this is the best surprise I’ve had in a long time. But I have a trial in an hour, if you want to stay here . . .”

You shake your head, “I want to see you in court. I’ve only seen your mock trials.”

“You want to watch me in court?”

You shrug, “You’re sexy when you’re all in charge and intimidating.”

“I’m intimidating?”

“When you’re questioning a witness on the stand? Hell yeah. Plus, it’s been two weeks since I’ve seen you. I need something to tie me over until we get home tonight.”

He tugs you in for another kiss and smiles into it while your arms snake around his neck. The two of you spend a few minutes kissing. You hate leaving him, and luckily, work only takes you to the other side of the world once every few months. But coming home is always a lot of fun.

His phone interrupts the fun, and he sighs. He answers with a brisk, “Hotchner,” and starts talking with the person on the other end. You take a moment to look around his office. This is the first time you’ve actually been able to see it, despite him having been in it for over a year. Your work schedule means you have weird hours. Sometimes it’s the normal nine to five and others you’re up at three A.M. conducting meetings across the world.

He doesn’t have a lot of personal touches. His diplomas are on the wall, and on his desk are some pictures of you and him throughout the years. You can’t believe he actually put out the one of the two of you in high school. He also has a very nice looking plant in his window.

He hangs up a few minutes later and makes a brief call to his assistant and takes off the rest of the day and tomorrow for a long weekend. You smile at that.

“Have you eaten? I know a good food cart we can hit before court.”

“Dinner and court? You sure do know how to treat a lady.”

He places a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s go.”

He leads you outside, locking his office behind him. You don’t even make it two steps before a woman is standing in front of the two of you. She’s young, younger than the two of you, and the way she bats her eyelashes and Aaron’s spine stiffens tells you she’s been hitting on your husband. She doesn’t even acknowledge you, “I have those briefs you were looking for, Mr. Hotchner.”

The way she says briefs and looks Aaron over, makes you want to scratch her eyes out. You’re not typically a jealous person, but this woman is being blatant.

He holds out his hand silently, and she hands them over. When the woman brushes her fingers against Aaron’s and takes a step forward, you move to go forward too, but Aaron’s arm wraps around your waist, and tugs you to his side.

He barely looks at her, and you can tell that frustrates her. “Thank you for these. I won’t be returning after court today so if you get that research done please hang onto it until Monday.” His voice is brisk, stern, and uncaring.

“Monday? But it’s Thursday? Where are you going?”

You’re done being on the side lines, “How is MY husband’s schedule any of your business?”

Her face goes white, “Husband?”

Aaron nods, but still doesn’t smile. You wonder if this is how he approaches all of his colleagues or just the ones that hit on him. “This is my wife.” He gives your name, “She just got back from Japan. She’s a translator and she’s been gone for two weeks. Since I don’t have court, I’m taking a long weekend to be with her.”

“Oh.”

He turns to you, “Let me just slip these into the office, and then we can go.”

“Okay.”

He effectively leaves the two of you alone. She blurts out, “I didn’t think he was really married.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You thought the wedding ring was just for decoration?”

“We thought it might be a deterrent. Some men just want to work, and he looked like he could use some loosening up. He never smiles or laughs. I thought he might be lonely. With you apparently traveling all the time it looks like that could be the case.”

This woman had nerve. She had gone from defense to offense in point five seconds. You hold up a finger, “Wait right there.”

You stalk into Aaron’s office and pull the pictures off his desk. You pause and say, “You don’t let people in here often, do you?”

“I try to keep meetings in neutral territory. Conference rooms, research labs. I think it makes people more comfortable. I’ll meet with opposing counsel in here occasionally, and Mrs. Grady, my assistant, has free reign.”

You’d met Mrs. Grady. She was in her fifties and happily married. You and Aaron had taken her and her husband out for her birthday this year. She’d spent the entire evening telling you how lucky you were. How the women liked to flirt with Aaron and he didn’t bat an eye. She said most men, even the faithful ones, sometimes tended to let the flirting go their heads. But she had said it was clear he only had eyes for you.

You stomp out of his office and hold the pictures up for her to see. In them are you and Aaron at various places in your lives; together and smiling. And anyone can see it’s a real smile.

You lower them and before she can say anything you add, “I married Aaron Hotchner right out of high school. Despite all of the odds, and they were numerous, we continue to thrive and love each other. I am asking that you please be respectful of our marriage, and realize if he needs any tension removal, or help loosening up, I will be the one to provide it. Thank you.”

That seems to reach her. Her eyes go wide and she scurries off.

“So, did you put the fear of God into her?”

Aaron’s voice is teasing and light, and when you turn to face him, that soft smile is on his face. “I think so.”

“Great. Can I have my pictures back?”

You hand them over and watch as he returns them to his desk.

Once that’s done, he offers you his arm, and you take it. You lean into him while the two of you walk; the paralegal already forgotten, “How was Kyoto?”

“Great. I had time to do a little sightseeing. I went to Nara this time.”

“Yeah?”

“I have pictures. It’s beautiful.”

He throws his head back, “We’ll have to add it to the list.”

“Already done.”

You stop at a little cart that has sandwiches. You laugh when the guy greets Aaron by name. He shoots you a look, and then orders. He passes you a sandwich. It’s good.

You take a bite as you walk. “I can’t believe I’m finally getting to see you do your thing.”

He raises an eyebrow, “My thing?”

“The lawyer thing. You’ve been with the DA for a little over a year. I've been with my company for a little over a year. We’re getting established, we’re . . .”

You shove your sandwich at him and then dive for the bushes on the side of the street. You empty your stomach, and then feel Aaron’s hand smoothe against your back. You run your tongue against your teeth as you stand back up.

Aaron is staring at you with his lawyer eyes, “Are you sick?”

You stand back up, “I’m at the tail end of some food poisoning courtesy of the plane. It hasn’t been too bad, but I haven’t been able to shake it.”

“You sent three postcards, and didn’t mention it . . . at all.”

“You would have freaked out Aaron. If I stub a toe you’re ready to take me to the emergency room. Me? Halfway around the world? With food poisoning? You would have lost your mind. And I knew you had this big case coming up. From what you’ve said and written, it’s a really bad guy.”

Aaron sighs and confirms, “Day two of the trial. A three time murderer: she killed her husband and two kids.”

You shiver and feel another wave of nausea roll over you. You take a deep breath in through your nose and release from your mouth.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders and draws you in for a comforting hug. You snuggle in. You’ve missed the smell of him; coffee, ink, and pine. The two of you head back towards the court house. Aaron gets settled ahead of time, and you settle in, three rows behind the prosecutors table.

You watch him. His entire body language changes as he sits at that table. Your usually sweet, even tempered, smiling husband, becomes very serious. His body language is serious but relaxed. He’s in his element.

Your eyes don’t leave him. You watch as he scratches down notes as the defense questions the woman on the stand. You finally chance looking at her. You’ve never been in the presence of a murderer before. She looks so normal. Her blonde hair is perfectly styled, and she’s wearing black, as though she’s in mourning. She even cries. Your heart aches for her. Despite knowing that Aaron would have never brought this case unless he was a hundred percent sure she was guilty, you feel your heart lurching for her and wondering if she really is guilty.

As the defense finishes, Aaron doesn’t get up right away. Instead he leans back in his seat and watches the woman. He has everyone’s attention. Your heart stills, and then he leans forward, buttoning his suit jacket before standing up.

What follows is amazing. Aaron weaves a web so immaculate you literally watch the facade crumble. He picks apart her body language and movements following the murders. As pictures of the crime scene are shown she can’t work up the correct amount of devastation. Aaron had shown more emotion at his father’s funeral. And then, she’s just stone faced.

You glance at the jury. They’re horrified. Hell, you’re horrified. This woman sends chills down your back. Finally, she loses it, she starts yelling. And when she lunges for Aaron, you’re ready to lunge for her. She’s damn lucky that officer gets to her before you can.

As the jury deliberates you head to Aaron. Anyone else would be haughty and bragging, but not Aaron. He’s giving credit to the FBI agents, and claiming luck. It isn’t luck. He’s just that good.

The jury deliberates for less than an hour. The verdict is guilty and she is carted off, screaming obscenities at Aaron. You go to him, and slip your hand into his. He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Let’s go home.”

****

You’re in your office. It isn’t big, but it has a great view and a lot of great natural light. Your desk isn’t a huge wood thing like Aaron’s but it’s big and a lighter color wood, and your office chair is super comfy. Pictures of you and Aaron, and Matt and Kristy are hanging on the walls. Your best friends are currently stationed in San Diego. You and Kristy send letters and postcards. She’s gotten on with a firm there and she’s blossoming, but you miss her dearly. Matt, too.

“You look awfully lost in thought.”

Your husband’s voice washes over you and you smile at the sight of him in your doorway. You squeal a little bit and shuffle out from behind your desk. He laughs as you wrap your arms around each other. “You made it!”

Aaron hugs you to him and your nose wrinkles. Something about his aftershave has been bothering your nose lately. It’s weird because usually you love it. A mystery for another time.

“I told you I would. It only seems fair. Last week you got to see me at work. Quid pro quo and all of that. Plus, I had a light day. I’ve come to steal you away for lunch.”

“That sounds wonderful, and you have perfect timing. Let me grab my purse.”

As you let your assistant know you’re going to lunch, Aaron moves around your office. He studies each of the pictures. He has one or two of the same ones in his own office. He stops at one of you with the group of friends you’d made during your internship. It’s been a few years but you’re still in contact with most of them. He smiles at other pictures of you alone from your travels. He’s seen and heard about all the places you’ve been and you know he wishes he could go with you.

You’d both decided to save up for a trip for next year. You’re debating between Europe or Asia. “Okay. I’m ready to head out.”

Aaron is just about to answer, when there’s a knock on your office door. You move and open it and smile at the man on the other side, “Hey, Hotch.”

“Hey, Hamada.”

Jun Hamada and his wife Emiko had been hired six months before you, but you had met them years before that. They had been a part of the friend group you made during your internship in grad school. You had stayed in touch with most of the people, but you had always been a tad closer to Jun and Emiko. They had been in a long term relationship since high school but had waited to get married until after graduating. They’d been transferred from the Tokyo office to the DC office a month ago.

“Do you have a minute?” His gaze goes to Aaron and you perk up.

“Yes. But first, Jun Hamada, this is my husband Aaron Hotchner. Aaron, this is Jun Hamada.”

There’s dawning in both of their eyes and they reach out to shake hands. They’re both all smiles, “My wife talks about you and your wife all the time, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too. Hotch has told us a lot about you. She said you won your most recent case. I read about it in the paper. It was very impressive.”

“Thank you, but it wasn’t all me. I had a lot of help.” The tips of Aaron’s ears are red. You just barely manage to hold back a laugh. He steps back towards the couch in you office, “I’ll be over there while you two talk.”

You and Jun slip into Japanese as you talk. Despite being fluent you still have an accent, and you take any chance you can to work on getting rid of it. What he’s brought to you is the press release you’ve written. You always send anything you write in Japanese to him, just to be a hundred percent sure there are no grammatical errors and that it makes sense. He’s made a few changes to help it flow better, and he takes a few minutes to explain why.

Once that’s done he turns back to Aaron and says, “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

You wave goodbye and turn back to Aaron. While he had sat through your Japanese classes with you regularly, he still didn’t know anything except a few words. There’s a look of awe on his face. “What?”

“You sounded really good. You talked really fast.”

“That’s sweet, but I still have an accent, and I don’t always catch everything the first time around. Hamada usually has to repeat himself at least once and . . .”

Aaron takes your hand, “You’re doing great. And Jun was very nice. Why does he call you Hotch?”

You shrug, “It’s a nickname they came up with when I did my internship. It stuck and almost everyone calls me Hotch.”

He wraps an arm around your waist and the two of you head out to lunch. You go to an actual cafe this time. Usually, you and Aaron tend to pack your lunches but every once in a while you like to splurge. The two of you are much more comfortable money wise now. You’re able to spend time and money on things you didn’t in college. In fact the two of you have a big fancy date set up for this Friday.

You discuss your plans for the weekend, things that need to be done around the apartment, and how you plan to just stay in bed on Saturday following your dinner date.

****

You stare at yourself in the mirror. You look hot. Hell, you’re as close to perfect as you��re going to get . . . if only your dress would finish zipping up.

“You ready to go?”

You turn to look at Aaron. He’s dressed in his best suit. It’s a dark blue. Custom made. Expensive. A splurge he’d allowed himself after winning his first case. You had splurged on a new purse after your first successful business trip.

“Almost.” You try the zipper again and pout when it won’t budge. It’s only a few months old, and you hadn’t put on that weight. At least you didn’t think you had. You look at Aaron and pucker your lip, “Help? Please.”

He smiles and moves forward. You take a deep breath and suck in. There’s a little bit of a struggle but eventually the zipper moves and finishes going up. You exhale. It’s still tight around your chest, but it looks good, even if you’re not overly comfortable. “I’m ready.”

Aaron kisses your cheek, “You look gorgeous.” And with that, the two of you head out.

The restaurant he takes you to is fancy. The kind of fancy where they don’t have prices next to the food. There’s low lighting, candle light, and soft music. It’s romantic, right up until your entree has your stomach turning. You swallow and push it away.

Aaron’s brow furrows, “Are you okay? That is your all time favorite food.”

“The smell. I can’t explain it.”

Aaron wipes at his mouth with his napkin, “Any other smells doing this?”

Quietly you admit, “Your after shave. The smell of asparagus or beef.”

He chews thoughtfully before asking, “Did that food poisoning from last week ever go away?” It’s said hesitantly.

You bite your lip, and quietly admit, “I don’t think it was food poisoning.”

“How long have you suspected?”

You exhale, and settle your elbows on the table so you can rub your hands over your face, “About two weeks. I’ve been careful, in case I am. And at first I doubted it. I thought it was stress and food poisoning, but then the smells started to irritate me, and my boobs started getting bigger. I haven’t taken a test yet. . .”

“So . . . right after I won the Turner case and your company secured that contract. We were both excited and . . .”

“We forgot our protection.” you finish for him.

“Your period?”

“I’m late. About two weeks.”

There’s silence before Aaron asks, “Can you eat anything on the plate?”

“That’s your question?”

“We’re paying a lot for that food.” He smiles.

Irritation flares through you, “I just tell you that I might be pregnant and that’s your response?”

He nods, “I’m compartmentalizing until we get out of the restaurant. At which point we’re going to the nearest pharmacy and picking up an at-home pregnancy test, and we can hit urgent care tomorrow to confirm.”

You bite the inside of your cheek before admitting, “I envy your ability to compartmentalize because I am freaking out right now.”

Aaron stares at his plate and then tosses his napkin down, “Let’s go find out if our lives are about to change.”

He leaves cash for the bill and the two of you head out. You’re sure you look weird, all dressed up and in the middle of the pharmacy. You grab a box of the most accurate tests available and head up to the counter.

You’re ready to get home, and get your dress off, it's hurting your breasts. You purchase the tests and head home. The moment the door is locked you start grappling with the zipper. Aaron is quick to pull it down. You shuck it off and then your shoes follow it. You’re left only in your slip. You head to the bathroom.

You take the test, and once you’re done you lay it on the counter. You head back to the bedroom and find Aaron waiting there. He’s in just his dress pants with his belt undone. You point at him, “That is how we got into this.” It’s said with a smile. He watches you and after a second you admit, “I’m scared Aaron. I’m scared that we’re going to mess this kid up. That I’m going to be as bad as my parents.”

He pulls you to him, and you lay your head on his bare chest and try to not breathe because the smell of his aftershave is really strong. “I’m scared of the same thing. But we recognize it. We know what they did wrong, and we’ve talked about how we want to raise our kids.”

“But now it’s real.”

“Not for a few more seconds.”

Even when the stove timer goes off you don’t rush to the bathroom. Instead you change into your pajamas and Aaron does the same. Together, like you do everything else, you go to see the results of the test.

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner reader insert #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm reader insert #cm imagine #cm fanfiction

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1994sunflower · 3 years

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Hi lovely 💕 I absolutely love your heaven to you series I was wondering if you could write something where you and Mikey and going at it and idk maybe ash or cal walk in on you and Mickey doesn’t stop so there just standing there watching him raw you idk maybe you can make it better than I said lol xx

merry christmas eve everyone! i wanted to post this early today so you would have plenty of time to read it without it interfering with your holiday plans. i hope you all love this as much as i loved making it & consider this my present from me to you.

in which ashton walks in on you

In hindsight, maybe sending Michael those dirty pictures wasn’t the best idea. Especially riling him up when he was in class when you knew he already didn’t pay attention. But, no matter how happy you were that he did what you asked and went anyway, you never really considered just how frustrating it was to be alone when all your classes had already finished.

Especially how frustrating it was when you were alone and horny. You couldn’t even waste the time by studying because your mind would always stray to him, his intimidating size, his cold eyes, his mocking smirk, his cock, the way he would pound you so roughly and perfectly that had you seeing stars and hugging onto him just right. You needed that right then. You wanted to be under him, letting him do whatever he wanted. You wanted him to satisfy you.

God, what had he done to you?

You weren’t exactly sure what got you so tense but all you knew was that you were aching for him. Really though, you blamed how long it had been. School had been so hectic and both of you had so been busy that you haven’t had sex in weeks. Which was honestly a feat for both of you, considering how often you went at it. It wasn’t for the lack of Michael trying either but you were always quick to shut him down and focus on studying, making him do the same. Now though, you were the one that was insatiable.

Even without him there, as you posed in those unquestionably suggestive poses (one on your knees, the other on all fours - ass sticking out behind you, the last with your legs spread), you could practically feel your panties sticking to your wetness.

You needed him.

And after sending them, you had giggled in his empty home. You’d been there since that morning before he left for class and you were excited just how much easier it would be for him to get straight to you after class. However, that excitement turned to eagerness when his reply came through. Always a man of few words, his message still rang loud and clear if the butterflies in your stomach were anything to go by.

mikey

i’m gonna fucking stuff you full when i get home

It was exactly what you wanted. You whimpered to yourself as you read and re-read his filthy words. You ground your pulsing clothed pussy against his bed, hating that you barely felt anything at all if the feeling didn’t come from him. You couldn’t even get yourself off without feeling your need for him grow even larger.

You were in the kitchen when you heard the key rattle of the doorknob. It was mischief that kept you in your place instead of going to meet him like you wanted to, like you’d been anticipating all hour.

So when the cup of water in your hands was suddenly snatched away roughly, you couldn’t help the naughty smile at the expected reaction you brought out in him, even if you were turned away from him and couldn’t see his exact expression. But still, you whined as if in objection and lifted yourself on your tip-toes, reaching up to get your drink back.

And you were finally face to face with Michael. A very frustrated Michael if his blown out pupils and tense jaw was anything to go by. But it wasn’t so surprising to you that his expression only served to have you aching more for him.

He held your cup above both of you, his height allowing it to be out of your grasp even on your tip toes, even when you tried to jump a bit for it back. And if he hadn’t known better, maybe Michael would have mistaken your whimper for one of disappointment. But he knew better. He knew your all of your filthy, horny sounds especially when you were starkly reminded just how small you were compared to him, just how much power he held over you because of that.

So he didn’t hesitate to wrap his rough hands around your neck, effectively stopping all of your movements. And his frustration seemed to multiple tenfold at your widening eyes. Like a shocked little girl.

“When did you turn into such a whore?” There was that cold, mocking smirk you begging to see.

Neither of you missed the way you rubbed your thighs together at his words. “I’m sorry daddy. Just want your cock.” You never could keep up the facade of being a brat for long. Not when you knew being a good submissive girl would have him giving you what you wanted quicker.

His eyes trialed down to your lips sensually before he leaned down and gave you a bruising kiss. One that had you quickly forgetting about your cup of water and instead had you all but leaning completely into him, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours and his wandering tongue. Leaning as high as you could on your tiptoes to meet his lips, your hands were traveling his chest and torso, trying to feel as much of his as you could. You felt him pick you up easily.

It’d been too long and he had been needy as well, but was holding it in to give you time to do your work but it seemed you had finally caved and were just as tense as he was with the need to get off. He had made sure a long time ago that you wouldn’t ever be able to get off without him, he was the only one your body would respond to as he had trained it to do, the only one that could give you release.

Thrill was the only thing that filled you when you felt your back hit wood, maybe that’s why you didn’t care that it was the kitchen table you were over. As you stared at Michael hovering above you, you couldn’t get yourself to chastise him as you normally would have; you were normally so respectful of shared living spaces, especially ones everyone would eat on later on. But as Michael’s expert hands undid your bra to leave you bare before him, all you could be was excited for what was to come and thankful that Michael was just as weak as you to give you what you wanted without delay.

“Never gonna listen to you and go to class again.” He muttered as his roughly spread your legs. You weren’t sure if he was mad at your earlier stunt or just too turned on to be gentler, but you didn’t mind. “I could have fucking opened those pictures in front of others, or is that what you wanted? Wanted those motherfuckers to see something that’s mine? See what a useless slut you are without me? You would’ve been the cause of their fucking funeral.” Definitely still mad.

He pulled you hair roughly, exposing your throat as you leaned back and stared into his eyes. But nothing could hide the horniness swirling in his eyes, or the poke of his hard cock against his jeans on your inner thigh. You tried to wiggle your hips to ground against his cock but were met with only air, causing a wanting whimper to leave your lips. Michael spread your legs even further, dealing with his own clothes in the process. He could pretend all he liked but his quickness to get inside you spoke for itself.

“Do you know how hard I was in the middle of class? After all the times you told me to go to class, you can’t even let me focus on learning. What a bad influence you turned out to be, little one.” His voice was taunting but you could only focus on getting him inside you faster. All the feelings of desire you had when alone in his room, that drove you to send those pictures in the first place, had come back tenfold.

Your breath hitched and you clenched around nothing, his previous swiftness had turned into a torturous stalling and you were sure he was doing it on purpose. But as if the dirty visuals you had sent directly to his phone were what was driving him, he finally took a hold of your hips and entered you. You were so wet you didn’t even need any foreplay. You were shaking with excitement. This was so much better than what you had tried home alone without him.

“Is this what you wanted?” He asked, his hand moving to your neck deliciously. His words were spit out sarcastically as your eyes rolled at the fast thrusts that had your body moving from the momentum. Your tits were moving with the rhythm of his thrusts and it was easy to see his eyes drawn to them. The table under you creaked with Michael’s strength.

But you couldn’t even answer him, your mind was jumbled in the bliss of finally getting what you wanted. His tight grip around your neck and rough thrusts was just a bonus. But the feeling of him against your tight walls, the sound of skin on skin sounding throughout the house had you in a haze. Only moans filtered out of your lips.

Michael’s hips moved skillfully as he stood between your completely spread legs, leaving you totally exposed for him. You were turned slightly to the side as he drilled into you, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he watched you carefully with hard eyes. Small grunts left him. He sucked in a breath. “That’s good, little one. Shit your cunt’s dripping, I’m going to wreck you.”

Maybe he was just as equally in a haze as you were. The need you had planted in him had driven him wilder than he let you believe. Maybe that’s why, in that vulnerable position he had you in, when you opened your eyes slightly you were the first to notice Ashton at the end of the hallway that led from the front door. His eyes were wide, keys still in hand and his mouth was drawn open.

You couldn’t be sure how long he had been standing there. Only that he hadn’t said a word to stop you or announce his presence. It was his shock that prevented him from speaking, surely.

For all the years you and Michael had been together, you were so cautious to never be caught, especially by Ashton who you respected enough to never purposely want to put in this position. This embarrassing position. Suddenly you were acutely aware of just exactly what Ashton was seeing. You were completely bare before him, only covered by the parts that Michael’s own body hid from view and maybe his large frame would be swallowing your small one more effectively if he had been leaning over you more but he wasn’t. Your face was washed in pleasure as your boyfriend, his best friend, drilled into you relentlessly. The way Michael had your legs spread guaranteed him a good view. You couldn’t even stop your moans in time so he was seeing and hearing every last detail. You’d never felt so exposed.

There was a battle within Ashton. It had started since the moment he walked in and heard you, then seen you two. His first thought was to announce his presence and tell you to find a room, or maybe to leave himself. But he couldn’t even fully develop that thought before he took a good look at the scene and he had trouble opening his mouth at all. With all his racing thoughts, it was hard to pick one to know what he was feeling but the drying of his throat as he heard your melodious moans and as he saw the way Michael had you submitted to him, body made easy to fuck and as he saw the pleasure before him, he had a good idea of just exactly which emotion was winning. His body sure knew anyway. And that part of him didn’t want to stop this.

But you took it upon yourself to do what he couldn’t. “A-Ashton”

You hadn’t meant to moan it out but with Michael’s thrusts never ceasing, it was hard to get anything out any other way.

It was a token of how lost in you Michael was, how focused on your pleasure and the feelings he hadn’t been able to have in weeks, that he hadn’t even noticed Ashton, his presence or your notice of his presence. So hearing his best friend’s name, or any other man’s name, coming from your mouth in a moment as intimate and sexual as this was disorienting. And infuriating as he felt a lick of jealousy and possessiveness creep into him.

His eyebrows furrowed as he tightened his already steely grip on your throat. “What the fuck did you just call me?” His thrusts never lightened and he heard you scream slightly, back arching, as he made sure to reach a crevice he knew would have you seeing stars. He didn’t know what you were playing at, whether you were trying to be a brat again to get him to go rougher but he quickly decided just how much he hated hearing you moan another man’s name while under him. Not when this was something only he had the right to do, the only one who had ever and will ever be with you in this way.

“N-no, no Mikey, Ashton h-he’s….” You trailed off but one of your hands reached to cover his that was on your neck and the other extended to point beside him.

You watched him finally look over to where Ashton stood. You were biting your lip to prevent more sounds from escaping you as you saw him and Ashton finally make eye contact. You noticed when Michael leaned forward slightly, covering you up much more from Ashton’s gaze. And then you realized with horror that he hadn’t stopped thrusting in and out of you and didn’t seem like he was going to anytime soon.

Michael hips didn’t even falter when he saw his best friend watching him with wide eyes, a blush now adorning his cheeks in embarrassment and in reaction to the sinful sounds coming out of you. Try as you might, moans and whines still left your mouth for Ashton to hear, powerless but to respond to Michael’s stimulations.

Maybe if it was anyone else, Michael would have covered you up completely, preventing any man from being able to see your body, something only Michael should have access to. Maybe if it was anyone else other than his best friend he would completely eclipsed your small body with his large one, possessively. But it wasn’t anyone else, it was Ashton, whom he trusted so much. So he made no move other than to hide you just a bit more, trust or not, he wasn’t going to allow Ashton to be able to see all you. He didn’t deserve it, not just yet.

He continued thrusting into you, more deeply than before. The sound of skin slapping still echoed throughout the house. Michael’s stoic gaze didn’t leave Ashton’s and his tone when he spoke never wavered, it almost sounded like he was having a normal conversation. “Are you going to get out or just stay and watch?” He saw your mouth drop in surprise, eyes wide and embarrassment filling into your eyes.

Ashton didn’t respond, wasn’t sure if he physically could even if he tried. But Michael didn’t wait for it either, after a few seconds of silence and of him not moving to leave, Michael’s gaze left his, almost disinterested, and returned to your whimpering figure.

You couldn’t believe what Michael was doing, what you were letting him do. If there was ever a time that embodies just how much he was corrupting you, this would be it. This situation that you would’ve never otherwise been in without him. And what was worse was how much you liked it, you couldn’t deny the heat spreading through your body, how much wetter you were getting, the way you clamped down on Michael as the situation really set in. Your body was powerless but to respond to his rough thrusts still ravaging your body, how full you felt by him. It was hot to know Ashton was seeing just how good Michael was making you feel and was experiencing Michael’s dominance. Your eyes slipped down before you could stop yourself and you saw the bulge in Ashton’s pants. He was liking it just as much.

Maybe that’s what took away your embarrassment, at least hid it for the moment being. Or maybe it was Michael slapping your cheek. “Look at me.” His voice was just as dominating as it usually was and your whine was just as needy as it usually was. Your hips began moving of their own accord, desperate to meet his thrusts. You were forgoing any hint of shyness at your desperation being seen by someone else. You were too far gone, all you cared about was feeling Michael’s thrusts and getting to the release you had been needing for so long.

You heard Michael’s mocking chuckle. “Guess someone will see how much of a submissive whore you are, after all.” It felt as if your heart skipped a beat at his words.

Ashton was seemingly mesmerized. He hadn’t meant for his answer to be to stay and watch but he didn’t think he could move to leave, even if he wanted to. The only time when he felt as if he snapped out of it was when he saw Michael slap you. He always knew Michael was rough in bed, it was hard not to imagine when he overheard him so many times through the paper thin walls. But to see you welcome such degrading and rough treatment almost wantonly was an image that seemed to cause his already hard dick, strain even more against his pants. Especially when he had only ever seen you as a shy, quiet girl. This was a new side of you he had never expected would have even existed.

Suddenly he understood why Michael was with you. It shouldn’t have made sense. You were too different. You were too proper and sweet, much too much to ever be a part of something like this, and Michael was too violent and angry. Just watching Michael’s heavily tattooed torso and chest come into contact with your lower body with every thrust, you resembled a girl getting taken by the delinquent of whatever story you were a part of, one that should’ve never had you in that way, one that you should’ve never even looked twice at. Not for the first time, Ashton wondered how Michael had gotten someone like you. But as he watched you submit so easily to Michael, as he saw you letting Michael take you raw, the way your wetness was dripping around your inner thighs, his hand around your throat, his tattoos clashing almost violently against your completely bare skin, heard you crying out in pleasure, he knew that no matter how, Michael had ruined you, tainted you and made you to be perfect for him, the perfect slut he could fuck however he wanted because you wanted it just as much. Your body was his for the taking. Your sweetness made you the perfect fit for him. And he made sure you would never be content with anyone else ever again.

Ashton always wondered just how you two worked, with you being so tiny compared to Michael but now, he couldn’t help but watch just how your small body was taking him in. Though it couldn’t have been entirely with ease, he could tell with the roughness of Michael’s grip and thrusts, as if fighting against your walls to be able to bottom out inside you. He could see the way Michael fit tightly inside of your tiny cunt, the way you looked almost stuffed with his size each time he bottomed out in you. You looked so small under him, you almost looked like a doll. And somehow, knowing Michael was stretching you open made everything so much hotter.

And maybe he would’ve been able to hold out, just content with watching the tangle of moaning bodies in front of him and hearing the chorus of your moans and skin slapping, but then he heard you whimper out “Daddy, don’t stop.” and he had to physically hold back a groan, his hand coming up to palm himself above his jeans. Your voice was so filled with hazy pleasure that he didn’t know how Michael didn’t cum right then and there. It seemed as if Michael was fucking away your care about being watched, the pleasure was too high. He was rendering you dumb, unable to hold a thought still in your mind.

Michael made it clear he had no care about an audience; nothing could take his attention from you in these moments and he didn’t mind showing off just exactly what he did to you - what only he has ever done to you. Which is why he had no qualms about making you moan loader.

Grabbing a hold of your hair, he pulled you up off of the table and to your feet, regretfully pulling out of you. You didn’t even have the time to whine in disappointment before you were being practically flung onto the couch, landing with your knees bent on the seats and your hands and face over the backing of it, ass facing Michael’s approaching figure.

You couldn’t help but notice, with a blush, how much closer it was to Ashton. Part of you wondered if it was done on purpose, to rile up Ashton all the more, give him more of a show or if it was just to get you to a more comfortable place like Michael would’ve likely wanted you to think. It was easy to forget what was happening before, to not remember that you were currently being wrecked in front of your boyfriend’s best friend, letting him see everything, you naked and willing like a submissive slut. But now, it was impossible not to see and be aware of just how exactly you were being exposed for their pleasure when you were directly across from him and it was wrong to be aware of how much your pussy heated up with want and how you clenched around nothing while Michael took his place behind you. His heavily tattooed upper body just helped him look even more daunting behind you at his full height, towering over your cute figure easily and vastly.

He took a hold of your hips before quickly entering you again, easy as if it was his rightful place. But he stopped his own movements once he was buried in you to the hilt. He groaned out under his breath when your hips circled, crying out for more. “Good girl.” He muttered before he began hammering into you with a speed you had been dreaming of. After weeks of nothing, this felt so so good. And despite the fact it looked as if Michael could have been ripping you apart with the size difference, you were taking it so well. You were so little, if Michael pulled you up against his chest, even at the elevated position you were in then, you’d barely reach his chin. And he knew the reason Michael wasn’t doing just that was because no matter how much he trusted Ashton, he wouldn’t let anyone experience you entirely, he’d never completely expose you like that to anyone else.

Your eyes closed almost immediately at the sensation, your head thrown back allowed Michael to take a hold of your hair to keep you still. He pulled just enough for it to hurt and your mouth dropped open, the bruises on your neck from Michael’s hands visible. The hungry screams that escaped you from his vigorous thrusts didn’t embarrass you, you had given up trying to silence or lower your sounds for Ashton’s sake. But your screams of ecstasy still reverberated through the house. They were breathy and full of desire, feeling your body move to match Michael’s. You couldn’t think straight enough to formulate words.

But then Michael pulled harshly on your hair again, “Open your eyes.” And when you did and met Ashton’s gaze directly, you felt yourself blush, at least having the decency to feel a little embarrassed at your weakness in front of him. And by his blush and almost pained expression at his own desires arising, you couldn’t tell for which of you Michael’s orders were more degrading for. “Tell him how much you love getting fucked by me.”

You sucked in a breath. There you were, gazing at Ashton eye to eye as your body moved from the thrusts racking your person as your grunting boyfriend was behind you, fucking you without mercy. Not caring that he was doing all of this in front of his friend. In fact he didn’t look the least bit embarrassed or uncertain. He never had issues doing things publicly or where you could get caught and even in this extreme he looked unbothered, as if this was just any other time you had sex. He didn’t care about being watched, especially watched making you feel good. Because he never cared about other people or their opinions, even in moments like these. You were the one and only exception in his life so his only focus was your pleasure and experiencing you as he saw fit. And the possessive part of him wanted to make it clear to everyone that it was him that was doing this to you, fucking and destroying you so well. That he was the only one that knows and will ever know your body, he had claimed it and you making it so you were conditioned to always respond to him and only him; and you were powerless to stop it. He wanted them to see how submissive you were for him because you were his.

Your hands clenched into tiny fists on top of the couch, your mouth open as you continued to whimper and moan, face furrowing every now and then as Michael’s thick cock reached a particularly deep part inside of you. You couldn’t even hide your face as Michael held it in the air by your hair to keep your eyes on Ashton. You couldn’t help but see Ashton gasp at Michael’s request as well, his hand in his pants moving faster than before.

It was almost too much, too dirty. But when Michael moved to be further on top of you, his chest leaning directly on your back so he could whisper in your ear. “You’re just my fucking cocksleeve that I can use whenever I want.”

Maybe it was his words or maybe it was the way the new angle made him, with every slowing thrust, hit your g-spot every time. You could feel him against your tight walls, fitting so perfectly in you. But your face scrunched up in pleasure, a particularly loud moan leaving you, your eyes never tearing from Ashton right in front of you.

He saw everything, every little reaction you had as your boyfriend fucked your small body so good. He could only see your face and torso as Michael large body completely eclipsed yours. Your size difference was never more obvious to Ashton as it felt as if Michael would break you in an instant with how weak and little you were to the point where he completely overtook you. Just a little more and he wouldn’t even be able to see you over Michael’s tattooed back. That knowledge was very clear in your mind as well and you loved it. Especially to know that Ashton was a witness to how you were completely dominated in all senses and protected by your big boyfriend. All you had were thoughts of pleasing and obeying Michael.

“I-I love it when he f-fucks me.” You told Ashton, watching how his eyes widened, dark with lust and his hand moving faster. Michael continued thrusting into you, not making his request of you speaking easy, spreading your ass as he did which made you gasp out whenever he bottomed out inside of you sharply. You writhed forward at his thrusts and feeling but he kept you in place, preventing you from moving forward and away, keeping you at the perfect angle where he could move as deeply and as quickly as he wanted in you, using you for his pleasure just as much as he was providing it. His thrusts were sharp and precise. Your head fell downwards at the pleasure of his hips, moaning, but never for long before he pulled you hair to have your head up in the air and eyes on Ashton yet again, back to the humiliating position of having to watch as Ashton was witness to your sinful and horny actions. You could feel your orgasm coming close and your toes curled at the feeling. This was what you wanted and had been craving for, what you’d teased Michael for in the first place.

Ashton didn’t seem to mind your stutters, broken sentences or even your dirty words. Your voice was small and breathy mixed in with whines and gasps. You could’ve sworn you heard him groan out, muttering a small Fuck under his breath. But Michael didn’t seem as mad as he would be in any other situation where a guy was getting off to his girlfriend. Maybe because no matter what, he was the one that was currently drilling into your tiny pussy, leaving it a mess.

Your next words weren’t part of the script but you knew it would please your boyfriend. “He…he fucks me so good, I’m his…his dirty little fucktoy” Your mind was buzzing and your heart clanged against your chest. It was so degrading, even humiliating but still you couldn’t help but feel even closer to your release.

Michael’s hips stuttered at your words, caught off guard. “Shit.” Your words fulfilled his possessive appetite perfectly. Hearing you claim yourself as his in front of someone, with your voice completely filled with pleasure was hotter than he ever imagined. You knew just what he wanted, without him even having to tell you completely. Holding you closer as his continued thrusting in an out of you, grunting with each thrust. He was moving your body for you, moving your small size so easily up and down on his big dick - just like a toy. At times pulling out to the tip just to be able to impale you back down to hear your gasped out moan. You were clenching your already tight walls around him to hug his cock impossibly tight. He had lasted so much longer than he thought possible with you feeling this good.

“Thats right, squeeze daddy’s cock just like that, little one.” Michael groaned out. He could feel himself being close, if he wasn’t before he definitely was after your words. The urge to cum inside you and claim your pussy, with his cum filling and dripping down you, had never been larger. But he wanted to see you spasm around him first, fully showcase just how good he was making you feel. “I’m going to stuff you with my cum in front of him. Gonna show him how my bitch lets me cum inside of her, breed her. This is my fucking cunt.”

It was too much, the image he had planted in your head, the certainty he felt in claiming you no matter in front of who, especially when his tatted hand came around your body to find your clit. You screamed at the same time you came around him, eyes closed as you still faced Ashton. “Yes daddy cum inside me, please. F-fill me up.” You were whining like a bitch in heat. You sounded as delirious as you looked. You were almost drooling in desire for his cum. Your mind was gone.

But it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t be expected to go weeks without your boyfriends cock, not when you were so spoiled and used to having him whenever either of you felt needy. It had been like a self inflicted punishment. But if sex like this was what you got afterwards, after teasing him then you had to do it more often.

That was all it took for Ashton, seeing you fall apart completely and hearing your dirtiest words as of yet. He wished he could be more embarrassed about cumming from the sight of best friend’s girlfriend getting railed but he couldn’t bring himself to be as he watched you still getting milked.

“Fucking cum hungry slut” Michael cursed out loud when he felt you tremble beneath him.

“Yesyesyes”He felt your cum around his cock and that was all it took for him to be releasing into you, holding on to your hips with a loud groan. He heard you whimper at the feeling of his cum filling you up to the brim. He wasn’t sure if it was just how long it had been since the last time he had had you like that or just the situation but he felt as he never came as hard before in his life. He’d never let himself be deprived of you for so long ever again.

Even when he pulled out, some cum still splashed onto your thighs and back but you did nothing but breath out heavily and snuggle deeper into the couch, hiding your body from any wandering eyes, exhausted and still in disbelief. Michael really had corrupted you beyond your wildest imagination.

Ashton was leaning on the wall behind him, breathing just as heavily as the two in front of him. He watched Michael, with his glistening body and labored breaths, take a hold of the first fabric he could find and clean off any excess on your body. It wasn’t lost on Ashton what it meant that you trusted Michael enough to let fuck you raw and cum inside you instead of using a condom, the intimacy of it all. Silently, Michael stared at you with soft eyes - so different from the hard and focused ones he had on while relentlessly driving into you. And if he hadn’t known the dynamic of your relationship before, it would have been very obvious to Ashton now, just how much Michael loved you. Even after he had degraded you so much just moments before. Michael wouldn’t ever care for anyone the same way he was currently tending to you, he never had and never will again. Even if he was infinitely more experienced with infinitely more people, this behavior from him was for you and only you. You were the only one he would ever love as much. His focus was entirely on you, ignoring the audience as he had been for the majority of the time. He didn’t care, his only care was ever on you. But even he couldn’t deny how hot the situation had been.

Michael didn’t say it but Ashton knew, even if it was just an accident and even if it had been used to embarrass you and dominate you even further, that he was lucky to ever be allowed to see you like he had just done. Michael likely wouldn’t have let anyone else so close, maybe just enough to see him wrecking you and enough to hear you but never so intimately and exposed as Ashton had witnessed. He was too jealous for that. But he trusted Ashton and knew you did too.

So why would he have to stop his moment with you, one he had been needy for for weeks when he didn’t have to or want to. He didn’t care about anyone or anyone’s feelings or thoughts, other than you. Nothing would keep him away from you in that moment, especially after being teased as he had been. And Ashton was thankful to have walked in on such a hot scene. A front row seat to his own personal porn video.

Your face was heating up as you peaked out from the couch. Embarrassment and timidness was clear as you chewed on your lower lip. It was almost comical to see you like that now after the side of you that you had just let out. But you had never been in that position before, only having heard it from the very dirtiest talk your boyfriend had mentioned before in bed. But never did you think it would really happen. Ashton had seen you begging to get fucked and bred, seen your naked body, heard all of your dirtiest sounds and words and seen the way you submitted to your boyfriend as he dominated over you as he always did. What would he think of you?

But you only saw the way his pants were unzipped and unbuttoned, the disheveled look he watched you with. And you didn’t think you saw a hint of judgement in his gaze, just horniness and shock.

It was silent, neither of you knowing what to say and Michael not caring enough to break the silence.

But eventually Ashton couldn’t take it and he tried to make his voice was filled with humor as it usually was. “Dude….we-we eat on that table.” He stuttered, it was hard not to after what he had just seen. His mouth was dry and he licked his lips to wet them.

Michael threw his jacket over your small body, its size enough to cover your entire figure. But then he looked directly at Ashton, not a hint of the embarrassment you were experiencing. He didn’t feel the need, he had given Ashton a choice. And he had gotten to please you and get to finally feel you around him again which were the only things he really cared about in the world; you and making you feel good. Fuck everyone else.

In fact, he felt a swell of pride at having claimed you so thoroughly, shown just how well he had tainted you to be his. He felt even better that he could finally fuck you like he had been wanting without being interrupted or having to stop because of the interruption; he didn’t have to be angry or protective over you because Ashton was too mesmerized by you and what happened to make you feel even shyer.

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

#5sos smut #5sos #Michael clifford #Michael clifford smut #Michael clifford x reader #bad boy smut #bad boy michael #5sos imagines #jealous smut #possessive smut #college au #jealous bad boy #jealous michael #Ashton Irwin smut

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arcadialedger · 3 years

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Please note that I am most likely leaving this platform. I am done being abused. But first? We need to have a discussion. A discussion about hate and bullying in fandom.

All online-- I encourage you to read my story below. Reblog and spread awareness. The Dragon Prince fandom especially -- I implore you read my words, every single one of them. The short of it is that I am done.

This all began with losing and being blocked by a friend because I shared something they disagreed with. I don’t care what you feel about my initial reaction to this (which I’ll explain below) -- I’ve apologized for not handling the situation correctly. But I will not be shamed for speaking my mind and standing up for myself.

Because no human being deserves to go through what I have endured since last summer.

Following the “callout” post made about me by one of, if not the largest blogs in this fandom, I received hundreds of threats, harassment messages, and death threats. Messages and posts telling me to kill myself were also prominent, on a multiple times a week basis for awhile.

Messages from people who were well aware I have struggled with being suicidal. Due to one of their favorite Dragon Prince blogs speaking out against me, they thought it was okay to suicide bait me.

And it worked. I already struggle with hating myself, am already insecure, and being flooded with these comments which, while I made mistakes, did nothing to deserve, drove me to try and take my own life after years of progress in my mental health.

Mind you, this is like a 200 follower to 4k follower power dynamic. Which yes, plays a role-- because when you have a large following and influence, you have power. Yet the person behind this had the gall to claim Tumblr clout isn’t real.

People blocking and condemning others instantly at your word? Is power. If people read your words and are influenced, or have their minds changed, or buy or don’t buy something, etc.-- you are an influencer. You have power. And when you’re one of the largest blogs in a fandom, you have a LOT of power.

So take responsibility.

I was hurt because I lost a friend who I had chatted with for months, did a podcast with, and was generally not only one of my favorite blogs but the center of my experience in the Dragon Prince. I may not have been perfect in my words, but when I was asked why I was quiet/ inactive, I explained how I was hurting, anonymously. I was understandably in pain and upset. I had been cut off for just having a different opinion on a matter, for thinking differently. Even though it was within their rights to block and do so, it felt wrong and it weighed on me.

Is that such a crime?

The callout post and previously described abuse followed, lasting for months until later in the year (this began in June, or around then). It also included screenshots of tweets, when this user does not have Tumblr, and they have stated to have screenshots stored up on their computer of my various posts and interactions. This is creepy behavior, and freaked me out. I felt like I was being stalked, “evidence” being filed away for the very purpose of being used against me.

I eventually talked things out with the blog per recommendation of my therapist, and thought all would be fine. For a little while, it was. I largely stayed off of Tumblr to heal. Once in awhile I would have a rough, tearful night because something reminded me of what I lost, but I would make it through. Overall, I was making progress.

Then? My Twitter got hacked by one of the people sending me hate. For what had turned out to be much. And after they tweeted some purposefully incriminating and bigoted things to make me look bad, I came home from a weekend in the mountains to a shitstorm.

Twitter has a love hate relationship for me and I barely opened the app unless actively chatting with a friend. So when I saw 700+ notifications, I was surprised. It had never happened before.

I began to scroll through, and when I saw what had happened, I ran to the bathroom and threw up.

I had lost over half of my followers and a solid 60% of previous Twitter mutuals had blocked me. But worst of all, I had hundreds of hate tweets directed at me replying to the hackers tweets. Messages had been sent in DMs and accounts blocked, followed, and unfollowed as well.

If you have never felt that loss of agency-- that sickening feeling of words you never said next to your profile-- be glad. Because it is traumatic. I value my words. I value what I have to say. And having that taken from me was worse than anything I had been through here on Tumblr, outside of the suicide baiting (the most direct attack to me and my emotions/ insecurities throughout this entire ordeal). Further, this hacker had clearly stalked my tweets based on some of their comments.

Hundreds of tweets bashing me, calling me aphobic slurs (knowing I am asexual mind you, as it was in my bio), making fun of my appearance and targeting all of the insecurities which lead to my first suicide attempt in high school, and taking/ editing images of my face and mocking them. This all culminated in a doxing threat-- a doxing threat which made me feel unsafe on a campus I had already been sexually assaulted on. I was once again, after starting the healing process, thrusted back into the darkest time of my life and spiraled into anxiety and depression. I cried a lot overwhelmed by it all, had difficulty sleeping, and felt sick. I started fall semester and couldn’t concentrate on school. I was a mess.

I had once again been condemned, this time for something I had no part in. I tried to example what happened but nobody listened. I had been hung without trial. People were understandably confused, and my entire reputation on the platform, and my page, became a mess of lies, misunderstandings, and more.

If you don’t know the feeling of already hating yourself and being insecure, and having these beliefs reinforced and spread by hundreds publicly across the internet? Of already feeling lonely and unwanted and having the one space you thought you had taken from you? Consider yourself lucky.

I had a lot of voice actors and creators following me-- accounts I interacted and greatly cherished my mutual with. A handful of them unfollowed, understandably. This online hate mob was sending messages to people demanding they unfollow me, including some of these creators. They had no idea what to make of this mess or what was real and true and just didn’t want to deal with it. Most of the others just stopped interacting with me. @aaronwaltke (tagging so those who don’t follow already click and do so, because he is absolutely fantastic-- he’s a writer for ToA) who had followed me on the platform, graciously wished me peace with the entire situation after I checked to make sure he had not been subjected to messages or hate, either from my hacker or other accounts. His was the greatest compassion I got on Twitter, before I ultimately ended up just having to delete.

I lost podcast deals because of this with Adrian Petriw, Aaron Ehasz, and Justin Richmond. I do not blame them one bit and would have done the same in the confusion not wanting to get dragged into anything.

Only to have one of the friends I lost who helped start this interview these very people on their own podcasts. A slap in the face. A zine I had bought to support them came to my door, with the front page proclaiming to “spread a narrative of love.”

I was never granted that chance. That compassion. I had the vultures sent after me with no mercy. And anyone who has been through online abuse and systemic harassment knows just how much it feels like they’re slowly but surely picking at your flesh ( a metaphor I used in one of my old, since deleted posts discussing the situation, and still find accurate), wearing you down until you have no strength left.

Make no mistake, my story is not a one off situation. Many share the same tale of abuse and being driven off of platforms that once gave them great joy. These attacks are coordinated, systemic, and common hobby for these people-- who largely claim to be loving and accepting of all. They are a cyberbullying phenomenon which has risen with the presence of fandom on the internet. And I want to make clear, with current discussions of “cancel culture”, I mean nothing political in that statement. Some might call my experience cancel culture, but I don’t.

It’s just bullying. It’s just hate. These people get off on ruining people’s lives.

And my life was greatly set back and ruined. I had a stain on my past in fandom I could never be rid of. I had to shut down my podcast, took time off of all social media, and most of what I had built, most of my growth, was taken from me while those who incited and/ or spread hate thrived and continued to grow and find success. That was the greatest sting of all.

I asked the one previous friend who hadn’t blocked me, but had just stopped interacting with me (which I understood and respected, and also greatly respected her perspective, help, and support though this situation in which she largely unfortunately ended up in the middle) for help after explaining everything, and got nothing. They didn’t seem to care, and just blocked me on all platforms. Once in awhile, I would find I was cut off from yet another old friend, or a blog that I had never interacted with before but clicked into, interested. It hurt being cut off, unable to fully interact with the fandom, but I could move on.

That pain would never go away, but I made clear I did not blame them for the actions of those who abused, harassed, and threatened me. I also made it clear they did not owe me anything, including unblocking.

I just wanted to move on peacefully, but those with the power to enable that did not wish to help. I slowly, when I felt ready, began to be more active on Tumblr again, and once again the hate started up.

Sometimes when I was hurting, I expressed my pain and loss to my followers just to reach out, because I was sad. I had no idea how to rebuild from all that had happened. This got me more hate an accusations of emotional manipulation and gaslighting. I had no idea what to do, and got trapped in a cycle of needing to talk about it, and getting hate and backlash, but not knowing where else I could turn.

My doxer came back into my asks, ultimately making me switch schools, and refueled the drama. Speaking up about this got me more backlash-- mostly accounts reblogging (one with tags saying “fuck you”, despite not knowing the full story, and commenting and then blocking me so I could do nothing to respond or get it off of my page. I deleted all posts of the matter, as requested by these people (who validly pointed out they were in the main fandom tags, which I hadn’t thought of and understood), and hoped to move on.

But it hasn’t stopped. I have been beaten down and emotionally bruised for months. I have had my life and safety threatened, my education and by extension life path altered, and lost work (podcast) opportunities due to this-- alongside the irreversible emotional damage from trauma and abuse. My mental health issues and insecurities-- which I have been very open about to destigmatize the subjects and encourage conversation-- were actively targeted to inflict the most pain possible.

And I can’t even talk about it, without enduring more hate and accusations of “playing the victim”.

Death threats, suicide baiting, doxing, months of bullying and harassment to the most vile degree, which a lot of these people don’t know about because they don’t even bother to read my words. Yet I’m playing the victim.

And the accusations of bigotry and being hateful hurt, because it couldn’t be further from what is in my heart. I believing in love and acceptance of all. I don’t know how many are religious here, but I found God after my first suicide attempt and that is what his word has taught me.

I’ve been through too much in life to tolerate this, for lack of a more eloquent term, bullshit. I know what abuse and victim blaming looks like when I see it. And in my 20 years of life, I have gone through too much: constant ridicule and bullying, suicide attempts, sexual assault, major spinal surgery, to just be stomped over and not stand up for my right to basis human decency.

I refuse to put up with this, so unless I get an apology and some semblance of justice for everything I have been through, I am leaving. I will not participate in a space run by hate and toxicity. I will never claim to be perfect, and I have apologized for my mistakes and wrongdoings. Now, hold those who did this accountable. If you’re reading this you know very well who it was, and I am not naming them for those who don’t. Because at the end of the day I still send nothing but love and wish no ill will towards them.

But I’ll be damned if I don’t expect accountability of one of the greatest influencers in the fandom for their complacency in abuse, threats, suicide baiting, and and absolute ruining of my life and online experience. They enabled this and were well aware they had the power to stop it-- to ask their followers to stop-- and did nothing. They didn’t care-- about a human’s life and well being.

@dragonprinceofficial, are you aware that this is what many of the fans of your show, which preaches love and an end to the cycle of vengeance, do to others? That this is happening in your space? If you stand at all by the values you preach, condemn it. @staffTumblr/ @supportTumblr-- shame on you for allowing this abuse to happen and ignoring my reports. Shame on you for permitting these people to operate in your platform and for being okay with hosting hate. People have been driven to suicide on your website-- I am one of the lucky ones.

If you care at all about humanity and stand against this behavior, reblog and spread awareness. Share my story so I may not happen to anyone else. Tag @dragonprinceofficial until they notice and speak out.

This is my story, and so many others. Make sure it doesn’t happen ever again. No human being deserves to be treated how I was. Everyone deserves compassion, decency, and respect. And everyone deserves a place in fandom. Do better. If you want to reach out to me DMs are open, as well as my email, which is attached to my account. Until this change happens and I am given the support/ help needed to safely function on this platform, this blog will not be active outside of that.

Thank you all of the many accounts who have supported me, and I am working on getting back to all who have reached out! Your love means the world. You know who you are, and I don’t want to tag in case people come after you for showing me kindness. I am sorry if this is goodbye, to all that have enjoyed my blog. I enjoyed it for a long time too. I loved sharing my passion for stories, culture, having a space where I could analyze and discuss my favorite things. I loved getting to share what I had to offer with the world, having fun and posting jokes with my unique sense of humor. I loved interacting with intelligent people/ fellow fans and discussing my favorite stories, offering each other new insights and growing together. I loved the many, many kind and wonderful people who reached out to me in a variety of ways and provided support and friendship.

In the end, it just isn’t worth all of this pain and trauma, and I know when to put my foot down. I don’t want pity, I don’t want apologizes, and I’m not a martyr. I just want my story to make a difference-- to spur positive change in fandom culture/ spaces. I will be tagging all fandoms in which I have seen this kind of abuse present as well, to reach as many as possible.

Be safe, and be kind.

- The Arcadia Ledger/ Ryn/ Katie, signing off.

154 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 3 years

Text

You’ll always be my brother mine; Queen x reader

*Author's note*

Okay get the tissues out my fellow readers because this one WILL make you cry. For this is the LAST chapter with John Deacon in the Rock Angel's life. After this, Deacy will only be lovingly mentioned but will not have another physical appearance. I also want ALL of you to listen to the music choices down below as well as watch the music video above (cause it will REALLY pull your heartstrings and set the mood for this chapter). Up next we're gonna make quite a huge time leap cause next chapter were gonna get into some current events that has happened with Queen/Rock Angel. So be prepared for the next chapter(s).

MUSIC VIDEO HERE

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@simonedk

@ixchel-9275

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@queensdivas

@queen-paladin

@queendeakyy

@wormzteef

@bohemiansweede

@labessieisallama

@naturalswifty89

@starswin

@isabella-bby

@5sos-wdw

@geek-and-proud

@onebigfangirlworld

@ssa-sadboi

_________________________________________________________

*Nov. 28th, 1997. Deacy's POV*

I had only agreed to come here to do this one last thing. My last music video that I would ever do with Queen, I had already completed my last live performance with Brian and Roger along with Elton back in Paris but without Freddie it just wasn't the same. Now we were making the music video for a song that Brian had written years ago just shortly after Freddie died.

I was sitting by myself along Roger's bar area (we had assembled at his place to do a mock rehearsal of the song before recording tomorrow) with my bass guitar resting on my lap when Roger came in and said.

"You doing okay?"

"Define okay." I told him.

"You're right. Dumb question. But—in all seriousness John, it really means a lot to us that you agreed to do this video."

"All I keep hearing is Freddie telling me 'darling if you don't get in front of that camera, I'll kick your arse from here to Glasgow'." The two of us chuckled softly.

"Well the team's already to go for tomorrow guys, we'll start filming at 9am sharp. We feel good about this?" Brian came up to us and asked.

"Actually, we can't do this video just yet." I told them.

"Why not?" asked Brian. "It's not much like any of our previous videos have been. We're in the perfect location and we're willing to perform this live instead of going through playback."

"It's not about missing something Brian, it's—someone."

"Look Deacy. We all miss him, but he'd still want—"

"I'm not talking about Freddie, Brian." I snapped before taking a deep breath and calming myself down.

"John I don't even know if she'd be interested in wanting to return to work. After the trail she's been—" Roger said softly before exhaling deeply. "But I can give Jack a call and see."

"No need. I booked a flight to Montreux, if I can convince her, we should be back tonight. Late." The two of them looked at each other and Brian said.

"Alright Deacy, we'll let you go get her. But don't get your hopes too high if she says no."

"Believe me, I know what she's going through. I almost didn't want to do this either. It feels wrong even continuing without Freddie, but—with this being the very last time I'll ever perform for Queen. I need at least one more performance with the Rock Angel. You guys need to give me this."

"We are. Bring our angel home." Roger said as he clasped his hand on my shoulder. I nodded before packing my bass up and headed off for the airport.

After a 2 hour flight, I arrived in Montreux airport and got a cab to take me to the Kline vacation home. It was another hour, hour and a half drive but finally the driver pulled up along the driveway. It was completely silence in the front yard, almost like a graveyard.

I got out of the car and walked up the gravel road, up onto the sidewalk and finally up the few stairs before finally standing before the door. Taking a deep breath I knocked on the door and waited for a couple of minutes. Soon enough a young girl opened the door, she had long (h/c) and familiar (e/c) that she inherited from her mother.

"Uncle Deacy?"

"Hello Kelly." I greeted with a warm smile. She smiled at me and hugged me.

God she had gotten so big since I last saw her. She was really starting to look more and more like her mother each and every day.

"My dear Kelly, look at you." she looked up at me and said.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was wondering if I could speak to your mum?"

"Yeah, of course. She's down in the basement with the boys." Kelly allowed me to enter inside and the first thing I see as I walk through the door was old Sammy, the Kline family's golden retriever. Already he was showing signs of aging around his nose and eyes. But when he saw me, he raised his head up and I saw his tail wag.

"Hello Sammy. Long time ehh boy?" he stood up and walked towards me and nuzzled against my hand. I stroked down his head when Kelly said.

"That's the first time I've seen him move so much since Bucky died." I turned to her in shock. "Brain tumor. We had to put him down last month and it was hard for all of us, Sammy especially." I looked down at Sammy and he looked up at me with those sad brown eyes of his as he let out a sad, soft whimper.

I scratched through his head as I walked over toward the basement stairs. I opened the door and walked down the U-shaped half-pace staircase. All the while I could hear some orchestra music playing and the sound of some creature bellowing before finally hearing someone say.

"How fast are they?"

"Well we clocked the T-Rex at 32 mph." As I came down to the bottom of the stairs, there at a desk surrounded by books and wearing prescription glasses was my sister dear while on the leather couch playing on the big TV was a movie that I wasn't quite too familiar with.

"T-T-Rex? You said you got a T-Rex?" Georgie quoted alone with the woman on screen while the old man nodded.

"Say again?" Jackson quoted along with the actor on screen.

"We have a T-Rex." The old man repeated. The actor on screen then started acting faint while the woman tried to get him steady and that's when the old man said.

"Dr. Grant, my dear Dr. Sattler."

"Welcome—to Jurassic Park." The twins quoted along with the old man on screen. Then soon enough dinosaurs were shown on the screen and I'll admit it was quite a sight to behold.

Never have I seen practical effects like that when it came to dinosaur films. Whatever film this is, I'll have to check it out for myself.

When I turned towards (y/n) I noticed that she turned her head away from her books and paper just to watch the television. I shook my head at her. Some things never change. I even saw her mouth out the next quote that was spoken on screen.

"Some things never change with you sister dear." She turned around to face me, as did the boys and they raced towards me exclaiming.

"Uncle John! Uncle John!" soon I was tackled down to the ground by these big boys. I smiled down at them as the two of them talked over each other trying to speak to me.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat threw up. And I see you finally cut that raggedy mullet of yours." My sister teased.

"Haha, very funny." I mocked up at her.

"What brings you around here?" she asked me.

"A brother figure can't see his surrogate sister anymore?" I asked as I stood back up with the twins still clinging onto my sides.

"Not that I'm complaining but, you haven't really came around since......" she looked away before grabbing the remote and turning the movie off.

"Awww mum! We wanted to keep watching the film!" the twins whined.

"Georgie, Jackson you both have seen the film over a million times. Besides you two got chores to do that you both forgot to do yesterday."

"But, but, but....."

"Now boys. You mind your mother and don't argue back with her." I lectured them giving them my father eye.

"Yes Uncle John." They both said glumly before they walked up the stairs.

"I swear they both got their father's handsome looks but their uncle Jensen's laziness." (y/n) complained which made me softly chuckle.

"They're little boys. And believe me it'll get worse, cause they're what seven now?" she nodded. "So yeah get ready. Ten is probably the age they'll really push your buttons."

"Well thanks for the heads up."

*My POV*

Now don't get me wrong, I love Deacy and I'm always happy to see him (on the rare occasions that he does come around) but this visit has something else written all over it.

"What film was that exactly?" he asked me.

"A Steven Spielberg masterpiece, Jurassic Park. Since it gets scary at around the middle part I don't allow the boys to watch this film alone without either me or Jack in the room."

"And what's with all the books? I haven't seen you this swamped since your first days as Miami's intern."

"Well—believe it or not. I'm finishing college."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. You see since I left college once I became the Rock Angel, and with me taking a step back from the spotlight for a while. I enrolled at a University here about to graduate with an English degree."

"I'm proud of you (y/n). Really I am. And—I know he would be too if he heard that." See there it was. The reason behind his sadness. Sometimes Deacy couldn't even say his name without feeling such agonizing heartache. His eyes that were once filled with light had diminished and rarely sparked up anymore.

"What about you? How are you and the other two aging Queens getting along?" I asked as I took off my reading glasses.

"We're getting by. Day by day. We're—actually about to do a video for a song Brian's made." Okay, I think I know where this is going.

"Deacy—I appreciate the offer but I just.....don't think I'm ready to get back into the limelight just yet. Plus I got school to finish up. And then there are the kids and Jack. The press made my life hell throughout the trial and I refuse to go through that again. So you can tell Roger that I'm not interested."

"Actually it wasn't Roger's idea for me to come down here and have you work with us again. Nor was it Brian's." I looked at him in shock.

"You mean you want me to be a part of this video you're doing?"

"Yes. They told me you might not want to but please, sister dear, for old time's sake. You wouldn't want to break an old man's heart now would you?" he proceeded with the puppy dog eyes and with that greying hair on his head it just made him look like a sad old puppy dog.

"Why must you always get your way?"

"Because I'm your brother and you fall for it every time." I sighed heavily and said.

"Let me get a hold of Jack at the hospital and see what he says." I stood up as Deacy came behind me and said in an alarmed tone.

"Wait? What happened to Jack? Is he alright? He didn't do anything stupid did he?"

"Deacy, Deacy relax. Jack's fine he's with our son."

"Wait you're....." it was then he finally noticed my body shape. The post-pregnant belly and weight gain.

"Was. Yeah. Just 2 weeks ago we had our new baby boy."

"Oh (y/n). Congratulations. But—then why is he......"

"The thing is, he wasn't supposed to come till next January. I gave birth to him prematurely by 2 months." I said sadly as I finally arrived at the phone and touched it.

"I'm so sorry poppet. Had I known I would've never—"

"No need for apologizes or sympathy Deacy. Like I told you once a long time ago about my parents. I didn't tell you so you have no reason to feel sorry for me. Besides our boy's strong. He's shown great improvement. Doctor says we could possibly bring him home come this weekend."

"That's good. But knowing Roger and Brian, they'll be wanting pictures of him shortly."

"And what about you? Don't you want to see a picture of your new nephew?"

"Of course I do." There was a bit of hesitation to the way he responded but I set it aside for now as he asked me, "What's the lad's name?" After he said that, it was my turn to hesitate cause I didn't want Deacy to grow sad again.

"You promise me you won't get too heartbroken when I tell you?"

"So long as you didn't name him Adam, Paul or Steve I think we'll be good." I turned to face my brother and I said.

"It was no difficult decision, Jack and I agreed that this name just suited him perfectly and we—we knew he would've loved it too. Our last and newborn baby's name is Freddie Mercury Kline." I immediately picked up the phone and rang the hospital for Jack.

After awhile of Jack and I talking back and forth between one another, he agreed that he could handle the kids for a couple of days, man down the house, and even look over my final paper that I have to turn in in a couple of weeks for a class.

"Thanks babe. How's our boy doing?"

'Ahh (y/n) you should see him, he's glowing like the sun right now. Maybe when we do get to take him home, we can even get the rest of the Queen family to see him.'

"We don't want to overwhelm him so much." I lectured.

'I know. But I think it's time we told the rest of Queen didn't we? Especially after who we named him after.'

"Well half the job is done. Only Brian and Roger need to know."

'Yeah. Hey can you give me regards to Deacy?'

"Sure thing love. We'll stay here till you get home."

'Baby you know Kelly's old enough to keep the boys under control till I come back.'

"I don't know Jack, I mean yeah she's a pre-teen but I don't....."

'Trust me (y/n). She's clever just like her mom. She knows right from wrong. The kids will be fine. But if it makes you feel any better, I'll head home right now so that way she won't have to be responsible for too long.' I rolled my eyes and said.

"Thank you Jack. I'll be back on Monday, I promise."

'Take as much time as you need. Besides, you need to catch up with the guys.'

"You're right love. I love you Jack, give my baby a kiss for me before you leave."

'Will do mama lion. Give the guys my love for me when you see them.'

"I will." We then said bye to each other before I hung up the phone. "Alright, Jack's on his way from the hospital, he said Kelly can watch the twins until he comes back."

"She's responsible that girl of yours. Reminds me of you when we first met. You made sure everything got organized and planned out accordingly. Hell you managed to keep the four of us in line." I smiled and gathered up my school stuff to take into the study room.

After turning the TV, off and putting my books away I called the kids into the master bedroom while I packed a weekend night bag.

"Okay now listen you three, mum's going away for the weekend with your uncle Deacy to see your other uncle as well as your godfather to do some work. Your father is on his way home from seeing your brother, and until he gets back you're in charge Kelly."

"What!?" the twins proclaimed.

"You heard her." Kelly sassed down at her younger brothers.

"Now you all know the rules, stay inside, no trashing the house, no answering the phone for any reason at all unless the caller ID says its your father or another family member. And absolutely; No one. Sets. Foot. In my study or studio or else." I firmly stated to them, especially the last part.

"We promise mum." They all choired out.

"Good. Now stay safe, and listen to your sister boys. I'll be back on Monday. Now come on kisses and cuddles." I knelt down and got a hug from my three big kids.

I even told them to give their uncle Deacy cuddles and kisses, which he happily accepted, before the two of us headed out back for the taxi car to take us back to the airport.

After a few hours in the air, Deacy and I arrived into London by about 7pm and this time I paid a cabbie to take us over to Roger's place. God all this traveling is really making me jet lagged right now. I only hope I have enough energy to record tomorrow.

The next day we were all in the recording studio to film the music video of Brian's song. I was sitting at the piano with Brian who was giving me the rundown on how to play the tune when it came for my appearance in the video.

"So—how have things been for you lately?" asked Brian. I looked up at him, "I mean it's just—you went underground after the trail and we—got worried."

"I'm sorry I worried you guys. I just......needed some time to myself and my family, that's all."

"No, no we understand. God what—what happened that day was extremely traumatic for you and—"

"Brian. Can.....can we not discuss anything regarding him. Please?"

"Sure, sure, absolutely." God sometimes I hate it when Brian wakes eggshells around me.

"I'm finishing up school."

"Really?" I nodded.

"I'm studying Creative writing. By next spring I'll graduate from college and finally get my diploma."

"That's wonderful news (y/n). I'm so proud of you." he wrapped an arm around me and gave me a one armed hug and kissed the top of my head.

"Also—there's.....a new Kline in the household." He looked down at me surprised.

"You mean—"

"Had him two weeks ago. Prematurely though." His brows knitted in that familiar sympathetic way.

"Oh (y/n), I'm so sorry. Are they....."

"He is doing just fine. Even for being born 2 months early, he's already got the Kline lion strength."

"I'm sure he does. What's the lads name?" I took out my wallet from my inner coat pocket and took out a picture of him from his incubator.

"Jack and I both agreed on the name together. Bri, meet your newest nephew. Freddie Mercury Kline." His eyes looked right at mine, with awe but also a hint of sadness. But a wide smile spread across his face as he softly laughed out.

"God what he would've said knowing that he got one of us to finally name our next kid after him."

"Probably something like 'about fucking time darling. I was beginning to think I'd been neglected.'" We both chuckled softly.

"That is something he would say. Oh and I bet he would've doted on this little chap, just as he had with all of your other kids." I nodded solemnly.

"God I wish he were still here." He placed a comforting hand on my shoulder and lay his head down on top of mine, his curls gingerly stroking my forehead and nose.

"We all do poppet. We all do." I sniffled softly but pushed back the tears.

"Alright, enough of this chatter. Now for this part of the song it goes like this right?" I said shrugging him off before playing the chords he had taught me at the butt-crack of dawn before we even came to the studio.

Finally we were ready to film the video. First Brian, Rog and Deacy got into position with Bri at the piano, Deacy on a stool with a bass guitar, and Roger in the back with his drumkit.

I couldn't help but be touched at the reminder of cups full of beer and a champagne glass sitting right along the piano's edge. It was—a nice little touch that Freddie would've appreciated.

This music video......I'll admit that this is probably my favorite out of all the Queen music videos. Because now people will get to see what it was like on a daily basis with us. Almost like they are a familiar face stepping into the recording studio.

The director called for quiet on the set and I stayed back for awhile until it would be my time to go up there and soon the director called out action! The camera's rolled and I watched as a camera crane came down from the ceiling at a slow pace.

I then saw at men on the mobile camera slowly moved closer across the studio to really give that first person POV as Brian sang the first verse and played the piano. Already hearing him sing this song made my heart .

*Brian*

A hand above the water An angel reaching for the sky Is it raining in heaven Do you want us to cry?

And everywhere the broken-hearted On every lonely avenue No one could reach them No one but you

One by one Only the good die young They're only flyin' too close to the sun And life goes on Without you

Next up was Roger. The cameras slowly came towards him as he played the simple drumbeat and he took over the vocals of the second verse. By that time, Brian had switched over to his Red Special and stood a few feet away from Deacy while I took over at the piano.

But to surprise the fans; I had a hoodie to cover my entire face as I now took over playing the piano.

*Roger*

Another tricky situation I get to drownin' in the blues And I find myself thinkin' Well, what would you do?

Yes, it was such an operation Forever paying every due Hell, you made a sensation (sensation) You found a way through (found a way through)

*All*

One by one Only the good die young They're only flyin' too close to the sun *Roger*

We'll remember Forever

When it was finally my turn, I took the hoodie off and proceeded to play the piano as I sung the third voice. My heart was heavy and my throat felt like clenching up but I kept my sorrow at bay in order to get this done in one take.

Cause I knew if I didn't, then there's probably no way I could keep my composure after three takes of singing this verse. Because all that came through my mind were the good memories of Freddie, and how I couldn't even believe that he was really gone. Even though almost 6 years have passed.

*Me*

And now the party must be over I guess we'll never understand The sense of your leaving Was it the way it was planned?

And so we grace another table And raise our glasses one more time There's a face at the window And I ain't never, never sayin' goodbye

By the end of it all, the video would show Queen and the Rock Angel singing the song with such sorrow but passion as we sung it in honor of our beloved Freddie.

Soon all four of us were gathered around the piano, Deacy still sitting on his stool, but Brian, Roger and I were gathered close together with music sheets in our hands. I stood by Roger and would sing the first line before finding myself unconsciously leaning against him for support.

Thankfully he didn't see anything wrong with it as he wrapped an arm around me and took the next part before Brian would be the one to finish it since he was the one to start it.

*All*

One by one Only the good die young They're only flyin' too close to the sun *Me*

Cryin' for nothing *Roger*

Cryin' for no one *Brian*

No one but you

The video would then close off as the camera would rise up over the four of us gathered around the piano. The lights shutting off and us acting like we were now leaving the studio after a hard day's work.

"Cut! Okay Brian, come and see what you like and what we need to reshoot." The director called out and both he and Brian began speaking to each other as Bri reviewed the footage.

As I watched Bri talk to the director, I felt a slight nudge at my shoulder and I looked up to see Deacy. His eyes were sad but the smile across his face held some warmth to it. I leaned my head against his chest and I felt his hand rest on top of my head, gently scratching my scalp.

"You still got it poppet."

"Singing to the kids still keeps my pipes in check." I felt him gently kiss the top of my head when the director called out.

"Alright Mrs. Kline. We're gonna runback from your verse, your hair got in the way of your face too much." I nodded and soon someone from the hair department came and brushed my hair back out of my face. As well as take a couple of hairpins to make sure the strands didn't get in my face again.

Deacy walked back towards his stool and Brian went to grab his guitar once again while Rog twirled his sticks.

"Okay playback from the third verse." The music picked back up and the cameras rolled and I sung the third verse once again, this time I could feel myself choking up as I sang the verse again.

This continued to go on with reshoots, trying to make this video even better. By the fifth time singing it, I needed to step out and take a breather because at this point I was just about to breakdown crying. Luckily for me, Deacy was right there for me the whole time till I calmed down and was ready to go back to recording.

Four hours later, the video was complete. Once the director as well as the boys were satisfied with the results, it was time to head home. Roger insisted that I stay with him the next couple of days (because he wanted to know more about his new godson) as well as catch up with one another. As I placed my coat back on over me, I heard Deacy's voice say my name softly.

"What is it Deacy?"

"Can I—can I talk to you for a moment? Privately." The look in his eyes were full of regret, almost like he didn't even want to tell me whatever it was he wanted to say.

"Sure Deacy, let me just tell dad to wait up for me." He nodded while I raced off towards Roger and told him that I needed to talk with Deacy.

From behind his new circular prescription shades (kinda similar to what ole Ozzy has), I could see that he must've known what Deacy wanted to tell me.

I walked back towards Deacy who took my hand and led me out of the studio and out into the abandoned hallways. No one was there but us two.

"Alright John Deacon, what's really going on?" he refused to look me in the eye.

"I—the reason why I wanted you to be a part of this music video was because I......I wanted to work with you. One last time." My heart slowly sunk. "Freddie he—he was what made Queen the way it was from the beginning. Without him there......th-there just isn't any need for Queen to continue on."

I remained silent as John confessed his heartbreaking news. I could see the redness of tears at the corner of his eyes.

"I just can't continue with all this. Not without him. This—was my last contribution to Queen. And—I wanted it to also be the last time I worked alongside the Rock Angel as well." He went silent again. "I'm sorry love." He sniffled.

I reached out and softly took his hands in mine. When he felt my touch, his eyes finally looked right at me. I looked at him with pure empathy before walking closer to him till I finally embraced him.

Play video

Oh my poor brother, I felt him tense up underneath my touch. It was almost like he was expecting me to go full on hysterical about him retiring from music forever.

"I was a fan before I met you guys. I've read every interview you guys ever did, seen all the concerts. And never have I seen a band be so involved with each other as Queen has. Like me, Freddie took you under his wing and allowed you to soar. You never just became the 'bass player', or the 'quiet guy in the corner'. No you, John Richard Deacon, are the most vital and important piece that was needed for Queen to finally rise to the top. And Fred saw that in you."

I cupped his face in my hands as I continued,

"If this is what will bring you peace, I'll understand."

"You knew my reason all along, didn't you?" he said. I only gave him a soft smile before I embraced him.

"You will always be my brother mine." He slowly raised his arms and wrapped them around my back and he whispered his last words to me.

"And you'll forever be my sister dear." We remained there in each other's arms. Embracing each other as tightly as we could, inhaling each other's scents, remembering each other's touch.

Because I knew that once we let go, this would be the last time we would ever see each other again.

Finally I forced myself to release him from my embrace. I looked down sadly trying not to cry in front of him. I felt his hand cup the side of my face and his forehead press up against mine.

Our noses softly grazing one another's until I finally felt him give me one final kiss on the cheek.

When I opened my eyes, I only saw his back and heard as his shoes clicked along the hallway. That image would forever be imprinted into my brain for as long as I live.

"Goodbye......my sweet, sweet John Deacon." I whispered softly. The tears then softly fell down my face as he finally turned left and disappeared from my sights, leaving me all alone in the hallway.

After a while I finally left the studio and met Roger at his car. The hidden tearstains still glistening on my face and the occasional sniffle coming out. He didn't say a word as he looked at me knowingly, I looked up at him and ran into his chest and softly wept into his shoulder.

His father instincts toward me immediately kicked in as he wrapped his arms around me and tried his best to comfort me. God I tried so badly to not let this affect me. I knew where Deacy was coming from and I do respect his decision, I truly do, but—I just can't believe that even after this I'll never get to see my brother mine again.

It was like losing my parents all over again, except this was much, much worse. This time he'll be so close yet so far away.

*FF to May 14th, 1998*

I had done it. I was a college graduate at last. Earlier today I had finally done the famed college graduation walk that all my previous friends in college got to do all those years ago, and I was an official college graduate.

(Y/n) Kline, Bachelor's degree in English with a concentration in Creative Writing.

It was late afternoon and I was sitting up along the balcony of the vacation home with a glass of wine in hand. We all had just gotten back from a family dinner in celebration of my graduation, now I wanted to be at peace and watch the sunset.

Because starting tomorrow, I decided that it was time to head back to our home in London and I wanted to get back to work.

"Thought I'd find you up here." I heard Jack's voice say. I smiled as I turned towards him.

"I was wondering if you'd be joining me."

"Well you know as well as I do that if those twins of ours are left unattended during their bath, they'll drown the entire bathroom in soap again."

"God that was such a nightmare to clean up." I laughed as he came up and sat down close beside me on my lawn chair. I noticed in his hands he held some mail. "What all did we get?"

"Well some bills, junk mail, some congratulation cards from the family back home in America, as well as from Brian and Roger, and.....that's it." I extended my hand out and he handed me the mail and I began sorting out the business mail from the personal one.

It was then I came across an interesting letter. One I never though I'd expect to see.

"What's this?" I turned the letter towards him and that's when Jack's face went pale. For you see the letter was addressed to Jack but the place it was from is what had me curious. The letter was from the London Police Academy.

"Oh shit." He muttered.

"C'mon Jack spill it, what is this?"

"I really didn't want to make a big deal out of this, especially since these past few months were all about you."

"Jack." I warned him since he was getting off the subject. He sighed heavily before he took the letter from my hands and said.

"Okay. Do you remember when I had gone up to London, and I told you that I was just going up there to check on the house?" I nodded. "Well, I lied. The truth is—I went to apply for the London Police Academy because—I want to become a police officer, and eventually a criminal detective."

"Jack."

"I know I must sound crazy but, this was my decision. After what happened to us with—you know. For the past year and a half and then....dealing with the trail. It put all of us through hell. And I—I don't want us or for anyone else to go through the pain that we went through. That bastard nearly tore this family apart, and it was because of the law that he got away with it every time. Creeps like him shouldn't get off scot-free."

I hugged my husband as tightly as I could and I said with a wide smile.

"I'm so proud of you."

"Really?" I separated from him and continued.

"You're my husband and you've been so supportive of me for years. It's about time I was supportive of you in your dream career."

"Well I don't even know if I even got in, that's probably what this letter is."

"Then what are you waiting for? Open it!" I chuckled and opened up the envelope and soon took out the folded letter and read it to himself.

"I—I got in."

"Oh my darling that's fantastic! Congrats!" I hugged and kissed him.

"Well hold on, this just means that I'm a potential candidate for a chance at working for the London Police force. There's still like a six month process when it comes to actually getting in. Right now I'm just joining the academy for some training."

"Still, that's something to be proud of. Oh Jack, you're gonna be a fantastic officer. And soon a world-class detective. A regular Sherlock Holmes if you will." I teased the last part as I bopped his nose.

"I don't think I can be that good. But—I'll try my best. For you, for our kids, and for every other stalking victims out there. The law may have failed us, but I won't let it fail for those in the future." I smiled at my loving husband and cupped his face and kissed him. "Oh and there's something for you inside."

"Really? Another surprise?"

"Well it's more like a small package. And sadly it's not from me." I looked at him confused.

"Then who is it from?" he shrugged but led me inside back into our bedroom where the small package lay at the foot of our bed. I opened it up and inside there was a single videotape. It had no marking or writing on it to indicate what it was.

The two of us looked at each other perplexed before I went towards our VHS player and insert the tape into it. I turned the TV on and the screen was blue as the tape finally began to play.

Coming up on the screen sitting right on a couch was none other than John.

"Hello (y/n), Jack. And the young Kline cubs, if they are there." He softly chuckled with a slight smile. Jack sat down beside me on the foot of our bed as we continued to watch Deacy's tape. "(Y/n), my darling sister dear. I know that—my leaving from Queen may seem like another abandonment but I swear to you it's not."

"Seems like this is just for you both, I'll just—"

"And Jack you stay right there with her because this is for you too." Jack looked at the telly surprised.

"Holy shit that was creepy."

"Our Deacy knows all." I wrapped my arms around my husband's arm as Deacy continued.

"Now—I have known you both for a long time. And both of you have equally been such an important part of my life. So it breaks my heart to know that this—might be the last time we meet face to face. But there is no doubt in my mind that you both are going to change the world. (Y/n), my lovely Rock Angel, you continue to spread your wings and fly. I know that you're going to continue to be the brightest and biggest solo female rockstar this world will ever know. And Jack, my pupil, my dearest American friend. You continue to protect your family, because if there's one final piece of advice that I can give you, it's that family is forever. Friends may come and go, but family is forever. And I know that whatever you choose to do with your life, your wife is gonna be there to support you. You both were meant for each other. I love you both so much. Continue to love, to give, to inspire, and......be happy. Bye."

The screen went black for a moment before he came back on screen and he began to say.

"Kelly, Jackson, Georgie and—little baby Freddie." At that point I stopped the tape and I turned to face Jack. I could already see the faint tears in his eyes.

Play video

"So this is really it huh?" Jack asked. I nodded. "I—can't believe we'll never get to actually talk to Deacy again." I rested my head on his shoulder and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"This is just his way of grieving. Deacy's very fragile right now. You know how his childhood was, and losing Freddie at three years his father's age. It's like—losing two father figures to him."

"I know. It's just that....." Jack looked at me with tears in his eyes.

Jack really did look up to Deacy for everything. After all they've been through for over 10 years together, to Jack it was like he was losing a very good friend.

"I know my love, I know. But this is what Deacy needs. To be with just his family now, and not be reminded of the pain of losing Freddie. And who knows—maybe, and this is a slight maybe, we might see him again. But until then we need to respect his wishes." Jack nodded and the two of us cuddled close together as we were both thinking the same thing.

We hope that you're happy at home John Richard Deacon.

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jalapeno-princess · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2: Bump in the Road

(Yo man all these Mark pre debut pics got me feeling some type of way) (Why did nobody at my high school look like that idgi???)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Part of the Crazy Little Thing Called Love Series

Genre: Fluff, angst and awkward, experimental and extremely adorable smut

Word Count: 13.7K (Daaaaamn I really thought it was longer) (Still long as hell though)

Summary: Falling in love with Mark had to be one of the easiest things you have ever done in your entire life. However, the trials that came with loving him were all the more challenging and you didn’t know how much of it you could possibly take.

A/N: Okay so this one is all over the place (I say that about all my imagines recently) but seriously this one is kind of complicated but please bare with me. I also am not particularly a fan of how I ended this chapter but oh well. Happy reading! (The smut scene in here is actually more humorous and meant to be clumsy and inexperienced lol but honestly it sucks hahahahaha)

“Y/n! This is the mile run, not the mile walk! You have exactly twelve minutes to run four laps around the field. This is only your second lap and you’ve wasted seven minutes just dragging your feet through the dirt. Pick up the pace or else I’m failing you for not putting in effort!”

You released a frustrated grunt at your p.e. teacher’s words, but did as you were told. Back in elementary school, p.e. was one of your favorite subjects. You loved taking a break from your studies and getting to play all kinds of different sports; dodgeball, sham battle, volleyball, basketball and even doing all kinds of relay races—but middle school ruined the class for you entirely when you realized that you were no longer allowed to play around and have fun.

No. Middle school was serious business now. You were being graded on whether you changed out in to your uniform, how many jumping jacks you could do in one minute, how many times you could kick a soccer ball in to one of the field goals and today, you had to run one mile which you and the rest of your classmates have been preparing for every single day in the last two weeks. It wasn’t like you weren’t physically active enough to run all four laps; you joined cross country only two months after transferring over to Middle school from Elementary.

Running long distances were something you were used to. What you weren’t used to, was the fact that your boyfriend had p.e. during the same period you did. It’s as if fate wanted you to fail miserably. Over the last two years, Mark only grew more and more attractive and your mind always drifted back to when you first saw him going through physical changes when you were in the fourth grade. What you thought back then to be his beginning stages of puberty or so you’ve been taught in health was nothing compared to the change he was currently going through as of right now.

His features became even more prominent; his jaw was more defined, his eyebrows were sharper, his chubby cheeks were slimming down immensely and his lips have grown fuller. His voice that was once squeaky and high pitch was now deeper and more “manlier” in his words. He was even excited to tell you that he was slowly but surely growing facial hair.

It was hard for you to prevent yourself from laughing when he pulled you to the side one day at recess and showed you the two strands of hair on his chin—but it was also very cute. From the time he entered middle school, Mark would always complain about being scrawny and not masculine enough for someone in middle school. Although you were still too young to really understand what was expected to happen to both girls and boys while puberty transformed their bodies entirely, you had a feeling Mark was taking this whole “growing up” and “maturing” too seriously.

You were only two months away from moving on to the seventh grade which also meant that Mark was going to become a high school freshman. Nothing much has changed since you graduated from Elementary school and settled in to Middle school other than being able to see and spend more time with your boyfriend. From what the older boy would describe over and over to be some of the best years in school he has experienced so far—well, educationally.

All those years in elementary that he spent with you; learning more about you, getting to see that contagious smile of yours and being the main reason behind it, falling in love—or what he claimed his parents called “puppy love” with you, those had to be some of the best years of his life. Unlike you, Mark enjoyed school. He loved learning about all kinds of things. Right now, his favorite subject was social studies specifically because he and the rest of his classmates got to watch all these documentaries about some of the most important events to go down in history.

Since he had every intention on being with you as much as he possibly could, Mark brought up the suggestion that you’d joining an after school activity together. You had yet to tell anybody other than your older sister and a couple of your closest friends about your relationship in fear of your parents finding out and forcing you to break up with him. Your family was well aware of your friendship though and they genuinely really liked Mark.

For someone who was right about to turn fourteen-years-old, it was evident that he had a excellent head on his shoulders. You would always think back to the first time he introduced himself to you and how he told you his mom said he was a good boy in order to get you to trust him. He always had your best interest at heart—he did whatever it was for you in order to help you in any way possible, or just to make you happy.

Your happiness was Mark’s sole priority. Almost every single day, he would walk you back home before walking back to school for practice. On the days he had nothing scheduled for after school, he’d be over at your house playing video games with your older brothers or watching a movie with you out in the living room. It always made you smile seeing how well he got along with your family and although you had yet to really get to know his, Mark told you he was confident that they would love you just as much as he did.

In his three years of middle school, he had built quite the reputation of being the campus’ all around student. Although he could be shy and introverted towards students he wasn’t all too familiar with, he was very kind and thoughtful to anyone who had entered his path. It was also known throughout the school that Mark had one of the highest g.p.a.s in his grade. There were a few occasions that his teachers would have him tutor other students for extra credit and being the polite person his mother made sure she raised him to be, he always said yes—even if he didn’t particularly want to.

He was also very involved in sports and extracurricular activities; soccer, football, baseball, water polo, cross-country, student council—you name it. Mark just really enjoyed making new friends and taking on new challenges. Since you were the only one out of your siblings that would return back home once school was over, your parents recommended that you’d look for some kind of activity that you would find interest in. It was actually your boyfriend’s idea to join cross country with him; it was pretty much the only sport that he knew you wouldn’t get hurt in and that helped keep his mind at ease.

The last thing he wanted was something bad to happen to his favorite girl under his supervision. On the first day of practice, you didn’t think it was all that bad. Your coach had the team run five laps around the tennis court before calling it a day. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say the same thing for the rest of that week when you found yourself running up and down an extremely steep hill ten times. By the end of it, you felt as if you were about to throw up your lungs—it was terrible and what was even worse was the mocking laughter that came from a few of your teammates since you were the last one to finish.

Mark tried to stifle back a laugh, but it wasn’t a laugh to insult you in any way. The word proud didn’t even describe half of what Mark felt watching you put in so much effort to finish your rounds, no matter how visibly exhausted you were. He found himself giggling because he thought you looked so adorable with your flustered, pink cheeks, hair sticking out all over the place and the fact that you flopped on to the grass without even worrying about getting dirty. He waited for your coach to inform you all what he had planned for the rest of the day and allowed you some well deserved rest before pulling you up. As soon as he noticed that everyone was out of sight, he all but gently yanked you against his chest and placed a reassuring kiss on your cheek.

“Hey, ignore them. You’ve tried your best y/n. You’re the only six grader here—everyone else, they’ve been running for years. You only joined a week ago. I’ve seen a lot of them having to stop in the middle of a race because they’d get side pains from eating right before a competition. Hell, some of them even walk when no ones watching. So don’t beat yourself up about it too much okay? You have me. I’m here. I’m always going to be here—nothing to worry about baby. Let’s go. If we have enough time, I’ll buy you some frozen yogurt before I take you home.”

You beamed up at him as your heart fluttered hearing his words. Sure, the idea of him treating you to your favorite dessert excited you—especially after all you had to suffer through, but hearing that you had nothing to worry about because Mark had your back was such an amazing feeling. Even after all these years, not once had he ever shown you otherwise. He was practically glued at your hip and you wouldn’t have it any other way. You placed a small peck on the corner of his mouth before intertwining your hands together and you grinned to yourself when you saw the blush rise upon his cheeks.

“Can I get extra toppings?” He playfully squeezed your hand before bringing it up to his lips and placing a sloppy kiss on the back of it.

“Of course you can babe. God—you’re so cute you know that?”

Although there were some days you felt as if you were still too young to be in love or to know what love actually was, you knew in your gut that what you felt for Mark was extremely intense. Hell, if what was going on between the two of you wasn’t love, you didn’t think you’d actually get to experience it because you had no intention on being with anybody else. You were overjoyed with what you had with Mark.

From what you’ve seen in movies and television shows, what you’d hear your sister go in to detail about over the phone with one of her friends and just witnessing your parents interacting with each other, you had an idea of what being in love was. You saw the way Mark would look at you; as if time stopped whenever the two of you were together and all he wanted to do was look at you in admiration—in awe of your beauty. It was in his actions; he made it a point to continue his overprotective habit he started in Elementary school—walking you home to make sure you got back safe and pushing you on the inside of the sidewalk to keep you away from the road. It was in the way he would leave his friends to go be with you.

Every single time you’d have a rough day, you would find a candy bar or a bag of skittles in your backpack as his attempt to cheer you up. He might have said it repeatedly on a daily basis—even if he didn’t understand just how powerful that four letter word was, but you’ve witnessed the love he harbored for you with his many sacrifices and sweet gestures. Nobody would do even half of what Mark does for you if they didn’t love you and honestly, Mark’s love and just Mark in general was all you could ever need.

Even if he were to be the only friend you’d have in your entire school career, he was the only friend that mattered. If the butterflies that would swarm in your tummy whenever you’d see him were any consolation, that breathtakingly beautiful boy was the rightful owner to your heart. You did whatever you could in order to even pretend that you were going to put more effort in to your movements, but you were too busy watching Mark swing his bat at the baseball.

Out of all the clothes he owned, why did he have to wear a muscle tank? You didn’t think biceps came with puberty but you weren’t complaining. Since all of your focus was on your boyfriend, you failed to notice the rock that was dead center on the track until you face planted right on the dirt. You heard a few people calling out for you; you assumed one of them had to be your teacher while the others were your classmates—but the voice that was quick to grab your attention belonged to none other than the person who was to blame for your accidental fall.

“Shit—y/n are you okay? You ate the ground pretty badly. Are you hurt? Does anything hurt?”

He brought his hand up to your face and squeezed both your cheeks. Immediately, your boyfriend began to scan your face for any cuts or bruises and his brows furrowed once his eyes landed on the huge gash in your arm. You were always so clumsy and sometimes you failed to pay attention to your surroundings—however, this was the first time you ended up practically face planting on to the floor. Before you could say or do anything, he was picking you up from right of the ground and briskly walked over to your teacher.

She was obviously worried for numerous reasons, but you had a feeling she saw that you were distracted. If so, you could only hope she didn’t know exactly why—but it didn’t matter. What now had your full attention was the throbbing pain in your right ankle. You were no doctor, but the pain was excruciating and it didn’t move when you tried to twist it a little bit.

“Would it be okay for me to take y/n to the health room?”

She had no choice but to say yes—not that she planned on saying otherwise. Mark had you pressed tightly against his chest as he carried you bridal style; your teacher wasn’t born yesterday. Anyone could see that Mark wasn’t only volunteering to help you out because he felt bad. Also, the way he was holding you; so tightly and protectively as if he were to lose you if he set you down led everyone to believe that the you both were well acquainted with one another. As the two of you began making your way to the office, Mark pressed a sweet kiss on your nose all the while giving you a concerned look.

“My clumsy girl—how did you even fall? I saw the custodians smoothing out the track yesterday. Were you not paying attention? Did your shoelaces get untied without you noticing—“

“Stupid muscle tank.”

You were currently hiding your face against his chest, so your sentence came out as a mumbled whisper. As much as you hated to admit that your boyfriend was the reason you were probably minutes away from heading to the hospital, it was the truth. You were surprised that only now you made a fool out of yourself and got in to an accident. It was currently three months in to the last semester and you found yourself ogling over Mark with every chance you got during p.e.

There was one time your class and his class had to share the basketball court and instead of teaming up with his classmates and playing games with them, he decided to teach you how to make a jump shot for that entire class period. You secretly thought it was his excuse to have his hands grip your waist, but you never said anything or questioned him about it—and you were quite a fan of his touch, so you weren’t really bothered knowing that he needed to always have his hands on you.

“I didn’t quite hear that, what did you say?”

You shook your head, hoping he would just drop the entire thing. Even if you were to lie and give him another excuse, Mark knew you like the back of his hand. You’d feel pathetic if he knew you lost your balance because your focus was directed on him and his ever-changing body. He could tell right off the bat when you weren’t being completely honest with him.

“I think my ankle is broken.”

He looked down at you and frowned. Mark has been playing sports long enough to know what a sprained ankle looked like. To his dismay, the area was bruised and swollen. Yeah—you definitely twisted your ankle. Good going y/n. You didn’t realize just how popular Mark was throughout the school until you heard almost all the staff currently in the office greet him. You were in a trance; completely mesmerized with how friendly and respectful the older boy was. It was one of the things you admired about him the most.

He had so much confidence in his personality and he had every right to—he was the actual sun in human form, radiating positive energy everywhere he went. The nurse smiled up at the two of you as soon as you both entered the room, but her smile was quickly replaced with a look of worry and concern when she saw the look of discomfort on your face.

“Hello Mark dear, what brings you two here today?” He gently placed you down on one of the beds and grazed your cheek with his thumb before turning back towards the elderly woman.

“Y/n tripped and fell in p.e. and she thinks she might have sprained her ankle. I also noticed a couple of cuts and bruises on her arms and her left knee.”

“Oh no—that’s not good, let me take a look.” She pulled a rolling chair over to where you were lying down and reached for your leg. “Do you mind if I take off your shoe?” You shook your head in disagreement and allowed her to examine your swollen foot. You looked up at Mark and gave him a sad smile when you saw that he was already looking at you.

If this was under different circumstances, your heart would’ve fluttered with the way he was looking at you, but the pain was unbearable. She had you prop your foot on a few pillows while she began inspecting just how much damaged your fall did to your leg. You couldn’t help but hiss at one particular lift of your leg—not once in your life would you have ever thought you’d twist your ankle—it was even harder to believe that your boyfriend was the reason.

Sure, you knew you were at fault; if you just did as you were told and completed your run, then there was a chance you wouldn’t be having to ice your ankle as you watched the nurse call your parents. However, you weren’t really all that upset and it was probably because deep down, you knew you’d do it again and again. All you ever wanted to do was take as much time as you could gazing at your boyfriend in adoration while mentally tracing out his charming features.

Whether or not he was there, you were sure that you’d get distracted by him one way or the other. Your mind would always drift off to him—sometimes even when you weren’t aware of it. Honestly, the hollow and empty feeling you would get when Mark wasn’t around and the indescribably warm and ardent feeling that built up in your chest as he held you in his arms was enough proof that he was your purpose; the reason why you’d wake up excited every single morning knowing that you’d get to see him later on that day.

Your mood for the entire day depended on whether or not you got to see or hear from him. If this was how you felt for the older boy as a pre-teen; still having yet to gain more knowledge about life and it’s many ups and downs, you were excited to see just how much better things would get for you and your boyfriend as the two of you got older. Mark motioned for you to sit up so that he could take his place behind you; he had you lay your head on top of his lap in the hopes of making you feel the least bit at ease. He began running his fingers gently through your hair; twirling some stands in between his fingers and smiled lovingly at you.

“Hey—I’m sure you don’t want to hear this right now, but can I be the first one to sign your cast? Ow—what? I’m being serious babe—with the amount of times you’ve hit me just now I find it hard to believe you’re in any pain at all. Fine, fine, fine. No jokes about your temporary disability. Although, I’m sure hopscotch would be all the more challenging now that you can only use one leg—you know what? I think it’s time for me to head back to class. It’s obvious that someone isn’t all that appreciative for carrying her all the way here—“

To his surprise, you made sure the nurse was still busy on the phone with your mom before you pulled at the collar of his shirt and smashed your lips all but innocently against his. However, right as he was about to deepen the kiss, you pulled your mouth away before things could escalate any further.

“I’m very thankful for all that you’ve done for me and continue to do for me. Not just today—for every day I’ve known you for. Thank you. I’m very grateful for you. You mean so much to me Mark, I don’t think I say it enough.”

You could tell your words visibly moved the older boy by the way he couldn’t stop the huge smile from occupying his entire face. While Mark was a boy of both words and actions, you didn’t think you were all that smart to actually form sentences to describe your feelings for him. Little did you know, on the rare occasions that you did express to Mark how happy you were being able to call him your boyfriend—each and every single word tug on his heartstrings.

God, he was so in love with you.

Just like how it always was when the two of you were together, you and Mark were too caught up in your own little worlds that you failed to hear what was going to happen to you. The nurse walked back over to you and your boyfriend from behind her desk and gave Mark a knowing look. You wouldn’t have been surprised if she caught you and Mark being affectionate—and honestly you were beginning to care less about your teachers and faculty members finding out that you and Mark were in a relationship.

If they weren’t too favorable towards the idea of middle school relationships, it wasn’t like they could really do anything about it anyway. Who were they—or anyone else for that matter able to tell you that your feelings were invalid because you were “still too young”? Love was valid for anyone and everyone of any age.

“Y/n, your mom is on her way to take you to the emergency room. I don’t want to scare you, but I think you might have to get surgery on your ankle or else that part of your foot will be permanently paralyzed. As for you Mr.Loverboy, I think your job here is done. Thank you for helping y/n out, but it’s time to head back to class.”

You quietly sighed to yourself at the thought of not having Mark with you while you went to the hospital. The thought of surgery didn’t worry you as much as it should have; needles, knives, blades and anything sharp never failed to make your skin crawl. However, you were too upset knowing that Mark wasn’t able to be there with you. You knew he’d be able to take away any feelings of anguish and despair just with his presence alone. He was quick to notice your sullen expression and brought his hand up to tenderly cup your cheek.

Other than your older brothers and hanging out with your boyfriend’s friends, Mark was the only boy you really got to learn about. You didn’t think teenage boys were capable of such compassion and tenderness, but Mark wasn’t a normal teenage boy. He put the feelings and well-being of others before himself. Sure, he loved playing video games, reading comic books and going to the park to practice his free throws, but none of that could compare to the sheer happiness you would bring him.

“You’re going to be just fine okay? It’ll be over before you know it. I’ll try my best to make it there to you, but if I can’t—please remind your mom to call me when it’s over? I hate the thought of you suffering. Forget froyo this time baby, I’ll buy you a whole gallon of ice cream. I’ll see you later, I love you.”

He felt extremely shy having to kiss you in front of any adult; even more so now that the nurse was aware of your relationship, but he wasn’t too sure when he was going to be able to see you next. Mark would lose all his sanity when it came to you. You just had that effect on him; but it was something he was very fond over.

He loved being in love with you.

“I—um—I’m sorry Mrs.Kim, do you think you could turn around?” His cheeks were red from having to ask such a question and he scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment. The older lady giggled softly at his request and nodded in agreement before giving you and Mark your privacy. While grazing his thumb over your forehead, he lowered himself so that his lips were barely touching yours and finally did both of you a favor by connecting your lips together. His lips were soft and his kisses were gentle; he kept his hands to himself because he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave if he were to touch you.

Not wanting to get either of you in any trouble, he stole a few more fleeting kisses from the corner of your mouth before wishing the kind woman a nice day. “That boy must really like you. I’ve never seen someone his age so starry-eyed over a girl before. I must admit, the two of you are very cute together. I’m just assuming by your age that your parents have no idea about your relationship so—I guess it’ll be our little secret.”

You gave her a tired smile before murmuring a quiet “thank you.” As kind as she was, you were grateful when she left the room to talk with one of the other staff members. It was nice having people around, but you do enjoy the moments you had to yourself, by yourself. The only person you didn’t think you could ever get tired of being around was Mark, but that was a given.

Even if on some days he could joke around during the times he was supposed to be serious, no matter how much he could get on your nerves, you could never stay mad at him for too long. Almost fifteen minutes later, your mom was frantically storming through the office asking around for you; but once one of the counselors led her to the health room and she saw that you were taking a nap, she immediately relaxed and the nurse began to inform her of what happened.

Although it was expected, you needed to get surgery to help with the swelling and the tension. This also meant that you had to stay out of school for the rest of the school year. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy getting to stay home and having your siblings wait on you hand and foot. The only thing that really upset you was not getting to experience all the festivities that came at the end of the year. Mark in more or less words was an absolute angel.

He came to visit you after school was finished almost every single day. There were days that he even asked his mom to call him out sick so that he could tend to you as much as he possibly could. Both the Tuan family and your family were understanding when it came to the older boy going over to your house in order to spend time with you. Your sister let out snarky remarks and a couple of eyebrow raises here and there since she had a feeling what went on between you and Mark behind closed doors, but it was all in good fun.

You weren’t going to lie; it was extremely frustrating not being able to move around as much, Mark did whatever he could to help uplift your spirits and take your mind off of your leg. Once you and your mom arrived home the day after your surgery, your brothers were quick to want to write on your cast as soon as they realized you had one, but you were adamant on having Mark be the first one in doing so—even if you playfully threw punches at him when he brought up the idea.

“I can’t believe you actually let me write on here. I hope you feel better soon princess.-Mark”

He told you he wanted to write something more romantic but he didn’t want your parents getting suspicious as to what your real relationship with Mark was. From what he’s told both your mom and your dad and what they witnessed, he was like an older brother to you—and because he got the chance to watch you grow from this tiny, adorable kindergartener who was a Picasso in the making to the upcoming seventh grader who only grew prettier and sassier as she got older, they understood why he was so protective and so fond over you.

Over the course of a month and a half, you continued to do your school work at home; you kept your leg elevated on a couple of pillows and hardly ever left your bed unless you really had to. You were upset at the idea of not being able to witness Mark’s graduation, but you were even more worried knowing that he was moving on to high school. It didn’t really occur to you that your boyfriend was going to be a high school freshman—nor did you think that things were going to change in your relationship.

Nothing happened when Mark transferred over from Elementary school to Middle school and honestly, the distance helped your relationship thrive. If he was willing to walk twenty minutes in order to visit you two years ago when you were just about to move on to the fifth grade, and how he was eager to ditch both school and practice to give you any assistance you needing during your healing process, then you were sure nothing was going to change—or so you could hope. Your parents surprised you with a pair of crutches and informed you that your doctor said it was okay to get up and start moving around if you were physically and mentally ready to do so.

As much as your family loved helping you out, you understood that they all had their own things to worry about and having to tend to you practically every fifteen minutes was a lot to handle. You decided to keep it a surprise from Mark that you were going to be there for his graduation; your mom already told him that she didn’t feel like it was a good idea seeing as how you weren’t really ready to be mobile and the look of disappointment on his face really made both your stomach and heart ache. You never wanted to see Mark anything but happy. All he ever did was put others before himself; and the happiness of the ones he loved—you especially was his main focus.

You remember hearing a conversation between your sister and her boyfriend and he told her she deserved the entire world. For the entirety of that day, you tried to think about what exactly that meant. Instead of asking your sister in fear of her getting mad at you for eavesdropping, you asked your mom out of curiosity. It means that person really adores you and wants nothing but the best for you. That’s exactly how you felt about your boyfriend. Mark Tuan deserved the entire world on a silver platter and you were going to take the time to learn what you had to do in order to give it to him.

You did particularly enjoy knowing that he wanted you there—you would be upset if your favorite person just so happened to get injured and wasn’t able to see you on one of the most important days in your educational career. But it proved to you how important you were in Mark’s life. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of how much Mark adored and thought the world of you. The older boy practically had it tattooed on his forehead. You just loved being reminded of the love you had for one another.

On the day of Mark’s graduation, you and your family picked up some gifts for him and planned on sitting a few rows back from the stage so he didn’t see you just yet. Hearing your principal describe Mark as such a hardworking, dedicated student who was so caring and quick to lend a hand to whoever needed it made you feel proud of him. Today was supposed to be a happy day for him, yet his smile didn’t completely reach his eyes and his shoulders were slumped. Your sister playfully nudged you knowing that you were the reason for his sullen demeanor.

Once the graduation ceremony was over, everyone made their way towards the football field in order to congratulate the graduates. It was hard to describe the feeling that built up in your chest when Mark’s eyes landed on you. Although his entire family came out to congratulate him, it was obvious he wasn’t all that happy and honestly, he looked as if he couldn’t wait till the entire thing was over. However, as soon as you came in to view, his jaw dropped and he wasted no time in running toward you and picked you up as if you were as light as a feather.

Neither of you even seemed to care about your crutches falling to the ground; he was just feeling so many different emotions in that moment to even bother about anything or anyone. Mark was extremely grateful that his grandparents flew all the way from Taiwan to come and see their grandson shift over to high school—graduation of any sorts was a huge milestone in their family—but he was most excited for your appearance. He didn’t even give himself time to think before smashing his lips against yours out of pure happiness.

“You came—I can’t believe it, you don’t know how much this means to me—God, you’re so amazing. I love you so much—“ If you didn’t hear the cough that you assumed came from your mom, you would’ve continued to kiss him; but it was in that moment that you realized you and Mark weren’t alone and he just gave away your relationship.

“Oh—I—um—I—I’m in love with your daughter. I hope you’re not mad.”

You didn’t even want to look at either of your parents; you were sure they either had looks of anger or disappointment on their faces and the last thing you ever wanted to do was go against their wishes. However—your relationship with Mark was the only thing you had no problem breaking your parent’s trust for. He whispered a mumbled apology in your ear and was right about to say something else, but your mom was quick to respond to his sudden outburst of love for you and her next few words shocked you.

“I know. I’ve actually known for a while now. You’re not particularly as discreet as the two of you probably think you are. I wanted y/n to be honest with me instead of forcing it out of her. You’re a good kid Mark. Although I still feel as if you both are too young to be dating, I see how much you care for my daughter and as a mother, that’s all I could ever want for her. You make y/n extremely happy. Thank you for taking care of her. With that being said, there will be some ground rules for your relationship—but we’ll talk about it another time. Congratulations again sweetheart.”

Your family stuck around for a couple more minutes—allowing you enough time to celebrate Mark’s big accomplishment. When your parents did decide it was time to go, you said your goodbyes to Mark and his family before leaving a quick kiss on his cheek.

“Congratulations again baby.”

You got an earful in the car while the six of you made your way back home, but you were just so content that you no longer had to hide your relationship with Mark from your parents any longer. It took one more month for your ankle to completely heal and for the rest of that summer, you and Mark found yourselves going anywhere and pretty much everywhere your hearts desired—well, anywhere your parents allowed you to go. One of their rules was that you had to be under adult supervision, but it was expected.

Your sister and oldest brother got a kick out of having to take you to the arcade or to the movies. The love you held for Mark continued to grow the more time you spent together. You learned something new about him every single day. His favorite color was blue—specifically navy. He loves ketchup but hates tomatoes and his favorite tv show was Full House. Sure, any time spent with your boyfriend never failed to send you over the moon, even if the two of you were doing nothing at all.

You’d rather do nothing with him than to do something so exciting with anyone else. But it was in the moments where he’d tell you his dreams and worries for the future that you savored the most. Knowing how introverted Mark could be, it must’ve took him a lot of courage to tell you about his fears and doubts and to trust you with his deepest secrets. Your seventh and eighth grade years went by in the blink of an eye. If you were being honest, you didn’t particularly care of any of it.

There wasn’t much excitement that came with middle school and you couldn’t wait to move on to the next chapter of your education. Mark raved about how exciting high school was. He claimed it was the most fun he’s had in his eleven years of being in school. There was more freedom for High school students; they could eat lunch wherever they wanted, they no longer had to wear uniforms, there were more sports that Mark wanted to get involved in and there were a lot more places on campus that he could study at other than the library.

To your dismay, your fears of growing distant with Mark came true as soon as he started high school. Being the adventurous and athletic guy he has always been, it was only natural for him to join practically ever single sport his school had to offer. High school sports were a lot more different than middle school. The athletes were expected to give all their time and effort in to the sport that they played; this meant more of Mark’s time spent on the field and in the gym and less time with you.

You only really got to see him on the weekends and you tried your best to show that it didn’t bother you—but you did worry that he would one day forget about you completely. There was a point where you wondered if you and Mark should take a break; you were at that age where you understood how to manage someone’s priorities and what needed to come first. It took a while to accept it, but you were no longer Mark’s main priority and it did hurt you—but there was no way you’d allow yourself to interfere with that part of Mark’s life.

What really made you sad was that Mark didn’t think anything was wrong—but why would he? He was too busy experiencing the dream life; he became captain of the baseball team only a month after he joined. He was the first freshman to ever be captain and you were elated that he was having a good experience so far. However, you couldn’t stop the tiny voice in your head telling you that Mark was better off without you. It was something that began to plague you more and more each day.

The last thing you ever wanted to do was be a burden to your boyfriend. On the days you did get to hang out with him, all your worries seemed to disappear. Mark was extremely apologetic with not being able to see you as often and he did remind you that he hated not getting to spend time with you. That’s the reason why you allowed yourself to stay with him. With time, you knew things would get better.

It wasn’t like he was purposely ignoring you—when he did have free time, he always called you and sent you text messages to see how you were doing. The effort he put in, no matter how tired he probably was never failed to tug on your heartstrings. You loved Mark and you knew he loved you. That’s all you really needed. After what felt like forever, you finally completed middle school and made your way in to High school. Mark was more than happy to welcome you with open arms and to show you around the campus.

On your first day of school, he barely even gave you two seconds to take in your surroundings before introducing you to his group of friends. They all seemed to be very friendly and outgoing; they were quick to offer you help if ever you needed it. Your boyfriend was extremely excited now that he was going to see you more; and he began planning out so many things with you. He was quite the gentleman; seeing as how he got his license back in his sophomore year, he would pick you up from school every morning and if he had the time, he would drop you back home.

He would walk you to class and even waited outside so that he could go with you to lunch or to your next class. His friends would tease him about it, but he would even feed you out of habit. You were able to attend some of his practices and even a couple of his games and it didn’t take you long to understand why Mark enjoyed being in High school so much. There was just a lot to get involved in and be excited for. At least once a month, there were pep rallies held and it was always so much fun.

Your High school was also very supportive and involved when it came to sports. The seats would always fill up at a lot of Mark’s tournaments and you knew seeing all those people in the crowd gave him the motivation to do his best. His friend Jackson joked around about you wearing his jersey so that girls would know he was in a relationship and back off. You didn’t know that your boyfriend had girls chasing after him, but you weren’t surprised.

He was a sight to behold; plus, he was so gentle and sweet. He was soft spoken and just so happened to be the MVP for both the basketball and football teams. Every time you attended one of his games, your cheeks would get sore from how many times you would smile hearing all these people cheer him on. He was quite the popular guy, but he always was. Mark stood out from the crowd whereas you believed you blended in, but not in a good way.

It wasn’t until Jackson made that comment did you find yourself observing the way that other girls would look at him or interact with him. A lot of these girls were very pretty—prettier than you thought you were and you soon grew very insecure about being the lucky person who Mark was in love with. You felt as if you needed to change your look to impress him—you didn’t think skinny jeans, band tees and converse shoes were going to cut it anymore.

Most of these girls wore dresses, curled their hair and put on makeup. It was only a matter of time that Mark would come to the realization that he wanted someone more mature who actually took care of themselves. You were too focused on having to worry about other girls that you failed to notice Mark never batted an eye at any girl that would approach him. His heart has been yours since the day he approached you over ten years ago.

You were the most beautiful girl in his eyes and you’ve captivated him in ways that he never thought he was capable of experiencing. Mark believed he was one of the lucky ones. It’s rare to hear about couples who started dating when they were really young that were still together. Mark knew even at seven years old that you were going to be someone very special in his life.

Actually, he was growing irritated every time a girl would come up to him because he made it very clear with how he would always hold your hand or wrap his arm around your shoulder that he was in a relationship. At first, he did like the attention he was receiving for his athletic talents—but when it came to romantic feelings, you were the only person he wanted to receive attention from. He did feel bad letting girls down, but he was more afraid of you growing insecure if you were to see just how many girls had a crush on him.

There was nothing you had to be insecure about—nobody held a candle to you. There’s a saying, “nobody’s perfect”—Mark believed it was complete and utter bullshit. You were nothing less than perfect in his eyes. As soon as he received a team jacket with his last name and number on the back, he gave it to you and asked you to wear it so that everybody in school knew that he was yours and that you were his. You never gave him any reason to be jealous—you only made three friends and even then, they weren’t ones that you’d spend time with other than when you had class with them.

You were always with Mark and his friends and you’ve grown very close to them in a matter of days. Your freshman year was a great start to your high school experience and as excited as you were to become a sophomore, you weren’t excited knowing that this was Mark’s last year in High school. He never told you his exact plans once he were to graduate, but you did hear his mom talking on the phone with his grandmother one day when you were at his house and you heard her mention that he was looking at a University in Massachusetts that specialized in engineering. You asked him about it a few times; out of sheer curiosity but he always seemed to redirect the question as if he didn’t want to answer it.

A part of you felt as if you deserved to know—it was just as much your future as it was his, but you didn’t want him to get annoyed with your continuous pestering. In your first semester, health was your first class and to your delight, BamBam and Yugyeom had it during the same period. It was nice seeing familiar faces and Mark’s friends always make you feel so safe. However, you were soon regretting your excitement when your teacher began covering sex. You and Mark had yet to get intimate and honestly, sex wasn’t something you were all that interested in just yet.

In fact, from what you’ve learned in class so far, you were terrified. BamBam and Yugyeom always made dirty comments about you and Mark—they even had the audacity to ask if you guys did it yet. You ignored them because it wasn’t any of their business, but you couldn’t help to wonder if they asked Mark and what he said about it. Did he want to have sex? He had to at least thought about it once or twice; you learned in health that boys desire sex earlier than girls do.

There were a few instances where your make out sessions would get a little too heated and Mark would excuse himself to go use the bathroom. It didn’t make sense to you why he always seemed to have to pee whenever the two of you would kiss, but after taking health, you realized that he wasn’t in the bathroom for the reason you thought he was. The more you learned about sex, the more curiosity ate at your conscience. Was it as amazing as people claimed it out to be? Did it hurt as much as you felt it would? What happens after the first time a girl has sex? It didn’t take too long for your curiosity to get the best of you and you wanted to know your boyfriend’s outlook on it.

One night, you were sleeping over the Tuan’s residence in order to keep your boyfriend company. His family went to Taiwan for his cousin’s wedding but because he had a tournament, he wasn’t able to go. At first, your parents were hesitant to let you stay over because they didn’t like the thought of you and Mark being alone—but they trusted you and they trusted your boyfriend. Sometimes more than they trusted you.

The two of you were cuddling up on his bed, watching a movie; his thumb was gently grazing your thigh and you didn’t think much of it. Skin ship was something normal in your relationship and this wasn’t the first time he had his hand on your leg. However, there was a feeling in the pit of your stomach that you’ve never experienced before. You felt as though you wanted him to bring his fingers higher up to where there was now a warm and tingling sensation. Neither of you expected it, but a sex scene came on out of no where and it felt awkward watching the two characters naked and pressed up against one another.

You could tell it was also affecting Mark with the way he sat up and pulled his hand away from you. You decided that you would use this time to ask him the question that’s been on your mind the day your class was learning how to put a condom on a wooden penis.

“Hey Mark?”

He paused the movie before turning towards you—giving you his full attention. You quickly picked up on how red his ears were and it was something you’ve discovered would happen when he was either embarrassed or flustered. He hummed in curiosity before bringing his hand up to your cheek.

“Do you—have you ever—do you want to have sex?”

The fit of coughs that fell from his throat made you feel like a child; stupid BamBam and Yugyeom for telling you that sex was a natural way of life and that Mark told them that the two of you already had sex on multiple occasions. You’ve been with Mark long enough to know he wouldn’t do such a thing. Whatever went on with you and Mark stayed between the two of you. He was just as defensive when it came to his privacy. He looked at you in shock before taking his hand off of your cheek and bringing it up in to his hair.

“Wait—what? Sex? Are you asking me—I mean—right now? Wait—sex? You want to have sex—please correct me if I’m wrong babe—are you insinuating that you want to have sex or—where is this coming from—“

It was always a sight to see whenever Mark would get shy or flustered if you were the cause behind it. He was eighteen years old now and it made you laugh that even as an adult, he still had his childlike qualities to him. You could only hope he’d continue to be a child at heart because you’ve grown to learn that sometimes life isn’t all that kind to us and we tend to lose track of ourselves if we become too serious. Mark looked as if he was on the verge of a mental breakdown; so you crawled over to him and did the unthinkable—you sat on his lap and wrapped your legs about his back while you brought your hands around his neck.

You were well aware that you were stepping in to new territory. This was the closest you’ve ever been to your boyfriend and it was a closeness you were quickly growing to enjoy.

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean for it to sound like I’m asking you straight out to fuck right now—“

“Woah, language missy—“

You playfully rolled your eyes before thumping his forehead for interrupting your confession. “I was just curious if you wanted to have sex—theoretically. We’re learning about sexual intercourse in class right now and I just—I don’t know. I’m sure you have your needs and desires or carnal urges as my teacher refers it to—you’ll be going off to college soon so I was just wondering if it ever crossed your mind that you wanted to have sex—and if you’d want to do it with me.”

Your last words caused him to look at you as if you grew another head. He couldn’t process the idea that you felt he would want to have sex with anyone else other than you. Once he finally decided to take a look at you and saw you biting your lip in anticipation of his response, he all but gently gripped at your chin and pulled you in to a searing kiss. He playfully licked a few stripes against your bottom lip and nibbled on the top teasingly before pulling away.

“Look at me.”

This all felt like deja vu. You were reminded of the day back in elementary when you confessed your feelings for Mark and refused to look up at him. You could feel your heart racing because of the proximity and because you knew he was probably going to be upset with the fact that you were questioning his future plans.

“Babe, you’re crazy to think there’s ever going to be anyone else in my life for me to do anything with other than you. I’ve loved you and I’ve been in love with you for over ten years now. You’re stuck with me y/n. I plan on loving you for the rest of my life. I’m not going anywhere and neither are you. You silly girl—why would you even think I’d want to do something so important with anyone else? You’re my person baby—my soulmate. Yes, I’ve been thinking about sex a lot these days—especially because I can never seem to take my hands or eyes off of you. You only get more and more beautiful as you get older and it’s getting harder for me to resist wanting to finally relish in our love together in that way. I just wanted to wait for when you were ready. I’m sure the idea of losing your virginity is scarier as a girl than it is for a guy—but just know that when that time comes, I’m going to take such good care of you okay? Wait—BamBam and Yugyeom didn’t set you up to this did they?”

It was your turn to look at him in confusion and he giggled softly at your expression. You wouldn’t have been surprised if they did talk to him about what they’ve been bugging you about for the last three weeks. They were all guys; you were sure they were all excited talking about their sexual lives amongst each other. It was something you assumed all guys did.

“Those assholes weren’t bothering you too much about were they? I’ll kick their asses if they ever made you feel uncomfortable. They told me they had class with you and then they began asking me all kinds of questions about our sex life and if we did it yet. I guess for guys, it’s a competition to see who does it the youngest or the most—it’s really stupid if you ask me. Sex is supposed to be romantic—making love to someone is more than just penetration and reaching an orgasm. It’s two people connecting on a spiritual and intimate level. Sex is just a body count to the guys; to me it’s something so special. To be honest with you, it doesn’t matter how old we are when we both agree to have sex—just know that I’ll wait however long you need me to baby.”

With the way he was looking at you so lovingly; holding so much tenderness in his eyes, you were just seconds away from saying fuck it and giving him what he’s been wanting for some time now. Like Mark said—sex was more meaningful than what a lot of people painted it out to be. You didn’t really look at it like that, but hearing him speak so passionately about it sent off a burning sensation in your chest. A part of you was very nervous, but it was expected. You were still learning about your lower region—hell, you were still getting used to menstruating. You didn’t think you were desiring sex as of right now but that was because you didn’t understand it completely. You didn’t know what took over your body in that moment, but you found yourself leaving sloppy kisses along Mark’s jaw while running both your hands through his soft, curly locks. He let out a soft sigh and his hands made their way down to your lower waist.

“Baby, what are you—“

“It’s time we get BamBam and Yugyeom off our backs. Let’s give them something to talk about shall we? I—I want to be one with you Mark. I don’t want you thinking I’m doing this for your sake; I’ve actually have grown curious to see what sex is actually like and I’ve always wanted to take things further in a sense with you. I trust you Mark—with my entire being. I’m safest with you. I’m yours if you’ll have me baby.” The noise that came from the back of his throat wasn’t one you’ve heard before. It was a mixture of a growl and what you assumed was a moan—it was extremely sexy.

“Fuck—I—you’re otherworldly you know that? I love you so much—so so much. I got you y/n. I’m gonna take really good care of you okay? Just tell me if it hurts or if you want to stop okay? I’m so fucking excited.”

The laugh that fell from your lips hearing how eager he was to finally make love to you was natural. He was so adorable—what did you do to deserve him? It was a question you always seemed to ask yourself even after a decade of knowing him for. You didn’t doubt that he was going to be gentle with you during the process of taking away your innocence. It was obvious that he was nervous—he had no idea what to do himself. This was going to be a learning experience for the both of you.

As he reconnected his lips with yours and tightened his grip on your waist, you could feel the adrenaline running through your bones. You were about to give yourself—your body, mind and soul to the breathtakingly beautiful boy in front of you. Your relationship was going to change but you knew it was in a good way. Goosebumps began to rise on your skin with every graze against your arm and every moan he hummed against your lips. There was a fire building up inside of you that you were dying to put out and you had yet to learn what it was exactly. Less than five minutes in to your steamy make out session, you felt something hard press up against your thigh and the feeling made you giggle. “Mmm—Mark—“

He pulled away gently in fear that he was doing something wrong. Your sudden mumbling made him worry; was he taking things too fast? “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just—every single time we’ve made out in the past—you’d leave to use the bathroom. You never actually used the bathroom while you were in there—did you?” He shook his head in disagreement while a cheeky smirk rose on his face.

“I’m gonna tell you this right now; I get hard just by the thought of you alone baby. So anytime you touch me, hug me or kiss me—I get kind of excited, if you know what I mean.” The two of you laughed at how blunt he could be but the playful banter was quick to end as soon as he felt you palming him through his sweats.

“Shit y/n—“

You continued your movements while bringing your face in the crook of his neck. Everything about your boyfriend was so flawless; so pretty. His skin was so soft and milky—his neck was long and you wanted nothing more than to leave love bites along his nape, letting everyone know his bed was spoken for. You grazed your teeth right above his collar bone and absentmindedly began grinding your self against his hardened member. You must’ve been doing something right with how he was helping guide you along his girth and by the way he was growing vocal the longer you continued.

He brought his hands up in to your shirt and you shivered at how cold his fingertips felt against your skin. When he started to play with your bra, you had an idea of what he wanted to do and so you unclasped it in one swift movement—taking it off and flinging it somewhere in the room. You then brought his hands up from your lower back to your breasts and squeezed them all but lightly. It was your turn to let out a moan—the feelings of his hands gripping on your perky mounds only made the coil in your stomach tighten. You never really thought much about your boobs; they were a part of women bodies—you weren’t someone who necessarily obsessed over them.

There were girls in your p.e. class that would compare their bra sizes and some of them would grow excited if they noticed their boobs got bigger. You didn’t think you had the biggest breasts ever, but then again you were still going through puberty. What you had thought may not have been big in your eyes as a completely different story with your boyfriend.

He never had the guts to admit it to you, but there were times where he had to force his stare away from your chest. It was as if your breasts grew overnight and he wasn’t complaining at all. Every time you wore a tight shirt to school, he had to bite back his tongue. He loved every single thing about you; but your breasts were now one of his favorite body parts of yours. He began to show love to your mounds—massaging and kneading them while pinching and twisting your nipples. Right as you were going to make a comment to get him to continue his movements, he playfully jiggled both your breasts and earned himself a punch on the shoulder.

“Ow—what was that for? I’ve been dreaming about the day I got to play with these pretty titties of yours. They’re so big and bouncy—you know, I’ve heard from some of my friends that it’s normal for women to be rough during sex but I don’t think this is what they meant. Having you hit me isn’t the way I’d be getting bruises tonight. Fine, fine—I’ll stop. You’re no fun. I hope you know I plan on fondling and playing with these every time I get the chance so start getting use to it. Would it be okay if—I um—can I take off your shirt now?”

Did he really go from confidently playing with your breasts to shyly asking if he could take your shirt off? He was so whipped for you. As soon as you pulled your shirt off and tossed it to the side, his mouth widened in shock. It was one thing to cup and fondle your sensitive buds, but it was another thing to actually look at them. How were you so perfect? There was absolutely no flaw on you.

“Close your mouth Tuan, you’ll catch flies.” You knew he was about to retaliate so you decided to tug at his shirt with every intention of him discarding it.

“Someone’s eager.” He wiggled his brows contently.

“Shut up.” One by one, every piece of clothing was now scattered throughout his room. What you felt as you gazed at him with nothing but his underwear on was hard to fathom in to words—sure, you’ve seen him shirtless whenever the two of you would go to the pool, the beach or after practice but this was the first actual time you’d be seeing him naked and bare.

“You’re so hot.”

His cheeks grew pink at your compliment—anytime you were to tell him how handsome, intelligent, talented and hardworking he was never failed to fluster the older boy and you would purposely say or do whatever you could to see him so bashful.

“Well—then, that must make you fucking sexy. You’re so breathtakingly beautiful my love. God, your body is a wonderland. I can’t wait to be inside of you—ah, hold on. I’ll be right back.”

A smirk rose on your face watching him practically run out the door as your eyes fell to his cute little butt. It wasn’t really hitting you that you were just moments away from losing your virginity; you were now more excited and ready to give yourself completely to your boyfriend. What should have been some of the most nerve-wracking minutes of your life waiting for him to return and being alone with your thoughts were eerily calm. Less than a minute later, he came in with a tiny piece of foil in his hands and from your lessons in health, you were sure it was a condom. He held it up as if it was a trophy of some sort and the concept caused you to giggle.

“I had to dig in my parent’s drawer for this. It’s fucking gross thinking that they’re still doing it at their age—“

“Only you could ruin a sexual moment with such an unnecessary comment. Just hurry up, put the damn thing on and fuck me already. I’m going insane here.”

“Wow, never in all my years of knowing and loving you would I have ever thought you had such a naughty mouth on you. I love it. Your wish is my command baby.”

He made his way on to the bed, crawling towards where you were waiting for him up against the headboard. You kept your eyes on his—he held so much emotion in them. Lust, excitement, happiness, worry, nervousness—losing your virginity was a huge deal and he wanted to make sure you had an amazing experience. Right as he took his underwear off and you saw his hardened erection, you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh.

It wasn’t because of his size—no, definitely not. You didn’t have anything or anyone to compare him to, but he was extremely big in your opinion. His cock was long and pretty girthy; you didn’t know how it was supposed to fit inside of you but you were so ready to finally find out.

“Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy hearing that contagious laughter of yours—especially when I’m the reason behind it. But I don’t know how I feel hearing you laugh right after I pull out my dick.”

“It’s not—I’m not—it’s just—penises are really ugly.”

“Babe seriously?”

“What? I’m being honest. Yours is an exception though. I guess it’s attractive? M—Mark stop! Please—I’m—sorry—babe!!”

He was quick to pin you to the bed with one hand while tickling your sides with the other. You didn’t think sex—or what you were told was foreplay could be all that humorous, but it was your fault you were so ticklish. Thankfully, Mark seem to have read your mind and placed a sloppy kiss the corner of your mouth. Hearing him rip apart the conform wrapper brought your attention to his pelvis and you could physically feet your throat choke up.

He kept eye contact with you as he rolled the thin rubber on to his cock. You had a feeling he was more nervous than you were; his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and his movements were shaky. Once it was finally on, he lined himself up against what he believed was your entrance. His lips were rough against yours—his tongue was needy; the need to kiss you with so much passion and fervor was all he could think about.

“Ready baby?” You gave him a gentle smile—hoping you weren’t underestimating him and what he was capable of.

“Remember, if it hurts or if you want to stop, just let me know.” Since you were well aware that he was right about to make his way inside of your soaking walls, you took in a deep breath to calm yourself down. However, the penetration you were expecting never came.

“Wait, what the hell? Where’s the hole?” This earned him a look of confusion and you had to cry out in laughter—honestly you were growing to believe that tonight wasn’t going to end the way you anticipated it would.

“Y/n, I’m gonna need you to help guide me, I have no idea where your vagina is.”

It took your boyfriend almost five minutes to finally line himself at your core—two of those minutes were filled with laughter and snarky comments; more so from you about how unprepared the two of you really were but it made tonight all the more memorable. He kissed you with all the passion and energy he had in his body and it wasn’t until you felt him finally make his way in to your pussy did you understand why he did that.

The stretch was exceedingly uncomfortable; more uncomfortable than it was painful, but still. It felt as though someone was pushing their hand down on your clit with so much pressure and it wasn’t a feeling you particularly cared for. Your boyfriend—just like he always seemed to in every single situation picked up on your uneasiness. He brought one hand up to cup your cheek as the other was placed in to your hair.

“You okay?”

“Mhm, just a little uncomfortable. How are you feeling?”

“Incredible. You’re so fucking tight and you’re practically soaking.”

“Is that a good thing?” He nodded adamantly and smiled at your innocence.

“Well, it feels fucking insane. You feel so amazing. I—uh—please tell me when I can move. You feel so good baby—but like I said, I’m not doing anything until you give me permission. Tonight is all about you.”

After you non-verbally gave him the okay to quicken his movements, he started to pump himself in and out of you. You weren’t going to lie; the first couple of thrusts felt like hell and you were worried that there was a chance he could have been doing something wrong since it was his first time also. But soon, the pain turned to pleasure—sweet, fervent pleasure. You both began to moan together in unison at how wonderful it felt.

There were so many kisses shared between the two of you—some rough and needy while others were sensual and feather-light. His thrusts only fastened and grew harder the longer you continued your love making session. Countless love confessions, sweet nothings and dirty fantasies were thrown back and forth to each other.

All-in-all, it had to be one of the best nights in your entire life. Albeit a little clumsy and hesitant at some points, Mark fulfilled his promise of allowing things to escalate at your pace and ultimately taking good care of you. You could tell he was holding back a lot of the time not wanting to harm you if he acted on his desires. Once you both reached your highs, Mark left you for a little while and came back with a wash cloth and a water bottle. You were too exhausted after spending almost two hours exploring the depths of one another.

Mark loved on your body like a man starved; he left multiple hickeys across of your chest and on your lower stomach. After cleaning you up, putting one of his shirts on you and giving you a pair of his underwear while he also got prepared for bed, he took his place right next to you. His arms were wrapped tightly around your waist while he placed his cheek against yours.

“So, is sex everything you could ever hope it out to be?” He beamed down at you while furiously nodding his head.

“It was so much better than I was already expecting it to be. You were perfect baby. That had to be one of the best experiences I’ve had ever. I’m gonna have to make love to you at least ten times a week from now on. God—I can’t even describe in to words how much I love feeling you wrapped around me and how beautiful you look right as you were about to come. How was it for you though? I didn’t hurt you too much did I?”

You shook your head and left a quick kiss right above his eyebrow. Less than twenty minutes ago, he was pounding his dick inside of you as if he had vengeance against you. Now he was treating you as though you were such a delicate flower. Mark Tuan—always the charmer.

“No, not at all. That was honestly so mind blowing and I know it’s because you were trying your best to make sure I was having a good time. You always put others before yourself and tonight was no exception. I’m also going to second that notion—I love how you stretch me out. It felt so good. I love loving you and being loved by you. Thank you baby.”

From that night on, you and Mark had a sexual awakening. Whenever you had the chance, the two of you would relish in your love no matter where it was. There were countless times where you’d find yourself sucking him off in a janitor’s closet or being pressed up against the lockers in the boys locker room; Mark took advantage as team captain having access to the keys and took you up against every surface the locker room had to offer.

Unfortunately the closer Mark got to graduating, the more time he took signing up for scholarships, applying to many different collages, taking up as much extra credit as he could and completing his senior project. He finally admitted to you that he had no plans on staying in your town for college. The only thing holding him back was the thought of leaving you.

All he really wanted was to stay with you and wait until you finished graduating so you could both attend the same college together, but you refused to let him give up on his dreams and being able to experience better opportunities that your small town didn’t have to offer. You knew there were so many colleges out there with better sports teams and even better choices of majors that he could choose from.

Mark always wanted to be either an architect or an engineer and you were very supportive of each and every one of his endeavors. However, you hated overthinking what would happen to your relationship if he did get accepted to a university in a different state. You knew the love you had for one another was undefeatable; indestructible.

Deep down in your heart you believed your relationship with Mark wouldn’t falter even with 5,000 miles in between the two of you. But the doubt that weighed heavy on your heart taunted you—what if he were to get frustrated with the distance? What if he didn’t want to be alone and found someone new at his university? What if he decided that your love didn’t mean as much to him anymore? You tried your best to stop the negative thoughts from taking over, but he was never around anymore to prove otherwise?

As dramatic as it sounds, if you were to lose Mark, you’d probably die of a broken heart. He loved you more than life itself; there was no doubt about it—but sometimes love just wasn’t enough. It was the last semester and you secretly wanted the days to go by slower to prolong Mark’s stay. You couldn’t help but feel selfish wanting him to change his mind about leaving you—but you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself knowing you were the one to prevent him from having a fun college experience.

You were currently in science class; everything your teacher was explaining about mixing carbon dioxide with hydrogen peroxide went through one ear and out the other. Thankfully, your lab station was in the far back, so she wasn’t able to catch you texting your boyfriend about your plans to hangout after school. You didn’t even realize she stopped speaking until you heard a different voice—one much deeper and obviously belonging to someone younger. This caught your attention; it wasn’t one of your classmates—you’ve been with them for five months now, you would have recognized them immediately.

When you looked up to see who it was, your eyebrows raised for reasons you didn’t quite understand. He had to be a new student; you don’t remember seeing him once on campus and although your school was enormous, he had a distinct look to him that stood out. His face was sharp and so were his eyes. There were two tiny freckles right below his left eyebrow, his hair was dark and just below his ears. His skin was pale and he had extremely broad shoulders.

You had to admit, he was very good-looking—but you’ve become desensitized to anyone other than your boyfriend. Something about Mark—well, many things about Mark drove you to the brink of insanity and you didn’t think there was anyone who could set your bones on fire like he did.

“Everyone, this is Im Jaebeom. He is a foreign exchange student from South Korea. He plans on staying with us for the next two years, so be nice to him, introduce yourselves to him and try to make him feel welcome. Jaebeom dear, you can take a seat at the empty chair next to y/n in the back.”

When his eyes landed on you, he sent a flirty smile your way and gave you a wink. He placed his bag on top of the table and took his seat next to you. Your eyes were quick to land on his hand that was now right in front of your face.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you y/n. I look forward to having you in class.”

Yeah, you were screwed.

#got7 imagines #got7 #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 mark

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lee-do-hwas · 4 years

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dodanru university oneshot

@bookishserendipity03 requested a platonic dodanru university fic so here it is! i’m sorry for taking so long, but this went in a direction i wasn’t really expecting and it ended up longer than originally planned. it’s around 3k words and mostly fluff + a lot of lee do hwa (because i love him). thanks for reading!!

When Eun Dan Oh finally found Haru amongst the seemingly endless crowd of familiar faces at Seuli University, it felt like a miracle. She’d searched for him ever since she’d been reborn, even if she hadn’t quite known what (or who) she was looking for at first. They spent hours walking around campus in circles, recounting the events of their previous lives and catching each other up to speed on their current character setups. Eun Dan Oh was relatively the same in this story. She was the sole daughter of a wealthy businessman and engaged to a fiance who would never love her back— the author really hadn’t put much effort into that one. The main difference now was that instead of a heart disease, Dan Oh’s conflict revolved around taking over the family business. She was cutthroat, goal oriented, and constantly focused on how to get ahead in the world. In contrast, Haru was a psychology major and Oh Nam Joo’s stoic but sweet best friend. He was always in the library and spent most of his time tutoring other students. Compared to the eccentric and naive Oh Nam Joo, he was the “mature” friend who kept both their heads on straight. It wasn’t lost on Dan Oh how suspiciously close Haru’s setup was to his actual personality.

The author’s newest comic was an attempt at more mature storytelling, following the lives of various university students as they made their way through the trials and tribulations of adulthood. To put it simply, it was drama bait. But the dramatic tone of “These Fragile Hearts” gave the characters way more freedom than the predictably cheesy plot of “Secret”. Not only were there multiple protagonists this time, but a much larger cast of named supporting characters meaning…they were safe. Eun Dan Oh’s days were no longer numbered due to a heart condition and Haru wasn’t unnamed Student 13. Outside of Dan Oh’s ongoing family theatrics and Haru’s chemistry void romance with Yeo Joo Da (now a biology major and nothing more than an extra herself) they had all the time in the world to meet up in the shadows. Even on stage, they had a lot of scenes together— sometimes entire conversations. They were fine with playing their parts. In comparison to before, they practically had all the alone time in the world.

Eun Dan Oh became a regular visitor of Oh Nam Joo and Haru’s cramped studio apartment. They only had one pullout couch, a coffee table, and a few foldable chairs, but that was more than enough furniture for three people. Oh Nam Joo was surprisingly chill with Dan Oh’s presence after she was introduced as Haru’s “friend from middle school” and eventually just gave her the extra key so she could let herself in. If she got off first, Dan Oh usually hung around and cleaned up to keep herself busy until Haru got home. After inevitably helping him lead his overly emotional (and sometimes drunk) roommate to bed, they would head out every night without fail. Some nights they went on roadtrips in an attempt to map out just how far their small, fictional world went. Others, they sat in front of their tree and stared up at the stars. Whether their time together was full of conversation or entirely silent, Eun Dan Oh appreciated all of it. Haru was the one to finally put into words how it felt to be in such a fortunate situation, how lucky the two of them were to have one another after going through so much: extraordinary.

It felt greedy to ask for more. But something was missing. Something that felt like it should have been obvious given the fact that Eun Dan Oh remembered almost everything about both “Secret” and “Trumpet Flower”. The small gaps in her memory mocked her, just specific enough to feel significant. After she found Haru, most of her memories came back in waves. There were only a few things that didn’t click and Dan Oh hated it. What could she still be missing? Sometimes she encountered a new, vaguely familiar face and wondered if they were the key to unlocking everything. She’d stomp over to the large library near her apartment and scour the shelves for an explanation. Maybe it was another lifetime she’d lost. Maybe it was something even scarier. Whatever it was, Eun Dan Oh didn’t want to be caught by surprise ever again. Even finding the hardcover copy of “These Fragile Hearts” hidden deep within the psychology department’s library didn’t help much. For days and then weeks, Dan Oh kept an eye out for something strange. She all but gave up…and then one day an extra ran past her, the angle of the sun’s rays just bright enough to shield his face. Someone who was probably not only nameless but also faceless. Without knowing who he was she knew. This was the person she’d been looking for.

After that day Eun Dan Oh kept her eyes out for any and every extra that walked by. She could recognize almost all of them after a week of people watching. There was one girl who had a very obvious (and unrequited) crush on Oh Nam Joo, another student who loved to feed the pigeons every morning, a man who held the door for the main characters during almost every scene without ever being acknowledged otherwise, and many more. None of them had names. Dan Oh went out of her way to speak to them but of course none of the extras she befriended were ever the extra she was looking for. When Eun Dan Oh did finally find him, it was entirely by chance.

“Watch out!” A student carrying a large pile of books and loose leaf paper flew down the library hallway and directly into Eun Dan Oh’s line of sight.

The man scurried out of the way just in time to not knock her over, but his stack of books wobbled precariously. Dan Oh couldn’t even see his face behind the comically tall barrier of reading material. In a single moment, her curiosity got the better of her and she made the decision to try something dumb. Moving one finger closer, Eun Dan Oh poked the stack of books. It immediately toppled to the ground and into a pile beside them.

The man sighed and stared at his books dejectedly. “I can’t believe this…I’m gonna be late to my nine thirty.”

He ran his fingers through his fluffy blondish-brown hair and glared at the pile through huge, circular glasses. He was…pouting? His facial expression could only be described as similar to that of a kicked puppy. Eun Dan Oh almost felt bad. He quickly looked back up at her with panicked eyes.

“None of those hit you, right? Are you okay?” Both his hands were in his hair and he looked like the picture book definition of “stressed college student”.

Eun Dan Oh stopped staring and crouched down, handing him the book closest to her with a smile. “No, I’m fine. What’s your name?”

“I’m—uh, why do you ask?” he replied meekly. So he didn’t have a name. Eun Dan Oh looked him up and down once again.

This wasn’t one of the extras she often saw around campus. The pastel pink button up and grey jeans he wore both seemed to be in pristine condition, as if he hadn’t worn them for even a day. He wrung his hands together awkwardly and refused to look Eun Dan Oh in the eyes. Just based upon their first meeting, she could tell this character didn’t have many friends. He was probably a studious type, only around to ensure that the main characters were conveniently partnered with a genius during group projects. Nothing particularly interesting stood out about him until Dan Oh glanced at the papers scattered around them. Was that sheet music?

“Do you play the violin?” Eun Dan Oh asked suddenly.

“Yes…?”

“Do you have an older brother?” She picked up another book, some manhua with a smiling couple and cherry blossoms on the cover. “And do you read cheesy comics like this often?”

The boy scoffed. “Cheesy? I’ll have you know these ‘cheesy’ comics actually give really good pointers on how to navigate young love, and you sure weren’t complaining when I let Haru borrow one back in high sc— wait. Who’s Haru?”

Eun Dan Oh covered her mouth with both hands and gasped. Everything fell back into place.

“Lee Do Hwa?!”

Her shout rang throughout the halls and several students looked up in annoyance. She didn’t care. How could she have forgotten him? Lee Do Hwa, the second male lead of “Secret”, one third of A3, and most importantly, one of her best friends. She threw herself into the taller man and hugged tight.

“I finally found you! I can’t believe it took this long!” Her words were high pitched and brimming with joy.

“Wait,” Lee Do Hwa briefly pushed her away to get a better look and his eyes widened in recognition. “Eun Dan Oh?!”

She bobbed her head excitedly. “In the flesh!”

Lee Do Hwa looked around the room with heightened awareness, slowly putting the pieces of his past back together. “Shit. Does this mean I’m not the main character?”

- - -

Haru was just as excited to meet the freshly reborn Lee Do Hwa— almost enough to forgive him and Eun Dan Oh for getting banned from the library for excessive noise. Dan Oh could hear him fussing through the phone the moment she announced the good news, undoubtedly rushing to clean his flat and cook a meal big enough for four people. When they arrived the once unnavigable space was spotless and a military sized pot of spaghetti was cooking on the stove. Dan Oh didn’t even remember them owning any dishes that big. Haru wasn’t one to be underestimated on a regular day, but a worried, nagging Haru? The author themself probably feared him.

Lee Do Hwa immediately made himself at home, plopping down next to Eun Dan Oh on the tiny couch and sighing dramatically.

“Haruuu!” He whined. “I haven’t seen you in ages and this is the greeting I get?”

A light turned off in the bathroom and Haru’s head of wavy black hair peeked through the doorway. He wore neon green rubber gloves and had probably just finished deep cleaning every corner of the room.

“Dan Oh, is that you?” Haru dusted off his baby blue hoodie and looked up, mouth gaping. “Lee Do Hwa?!”

“Are you that shocked? I know I’m not the adorable second male lead anymore but can’t a man wear glasses every once in a while?” He started pouting again. Eun Dan Oh rolled her eyes.

“No, it’s nothing bad,” Haru smiled reassuringly. “You just look…different.”

Do Hwa fell into Dan Oh as if he’d been shot in the chest. “That’s even worse! Just say I look like a nerd, it’ll hurt less!”

Haru sauntered into the living room and squoze his way into the middle of the couch, immediately putting distance between Eun Dan Oh and Lee Do Hwa. Do Hwa's pout only widened.

“You look like a nerd.” He stared at his friend’s face for a few seconds. “And your hair’s brighter now. It’s basically blonde.”

“It’s chestnut brown…” Do Hwa replied heavily as if the words pained him.

“No, it’s blonde.” Eun Dan Oh said, reaching over to pat his hand with a smile. “And you do look like a nerd—”

“First you tell me I’m an extra and now this? Is nothing sacred?”

“That being said, I think it looks cute! And we missed you! So who cares if you look like a labradoodle.” She reached her arms around Haru for a group hug. Do Hwa hummed annoyedly.

“I guess I missed you guys too. Even though you keep rubbing your happy relationship in my face.” Do Hwa said, completing the hug. Haru squirmed in place and patted his friend’s head awkwardly.

- - -

In the days following their reunion, Lee Do Hwa had somehow weaseled his way out of a two year lease to, in his words, “the shittiest apartment known to man” and made preparations to move in with Haru and Oh Nam Joo. Eun Dan Oh couldn’t begin to explain how he managed something like that. Oh Nam Joo shouldn’t have even remembered him in the first place? But they’d hit it off immediately and under a week later Do Hwa was sleeping on the pullout couch. He claimed it was his natural charm, but Dan Oh was pretty sure it had something to do with the fact that they were lifelong friends in a past life. No other character really remembered anything past Do Hwa’s name, but that didn’t stop him from giving a running commentary before and after every scene.

Eun Dan Oh’s fiance in “These Fragile Hearts” was, of course, Baek Gyeong. As always he didn’t like her back, but unlike before her character was almost entirely to blame for it. Where he was kind and vulnerable, Eun Dan Oh was cold and constantly toeing the line between oblivious and downright cruel. There were more scenes than Dan Oh could count where Baek Gyeong planned a lovely dinner or picnic for the two of them only for her to stand him up for work. It wasn’t surprising that his character arc revolved around a secret romance between him and the much more affectionate Shin Sae Mi (and yes, they were the main couple). Eun Dan Oh had absolutely no interest in dating Baek Gyeong, but every time the two leads exchanged knowing glances right in front of her she wanted to gag. They could at least flirt in private! Why was infidelity okay just because it was the main characters sneaking around?! When Lee Do Hwa found out her predicament, he laughed so hard he got a stitch in his side.

“Oh my god, stop talking. Please, I’m gonna fucking choke,” Do Hwa wheezed out in between his laughter.

“Is my life a game to you?! I have to watch Baek Gyeong and Sae Mi make googly eyes at each other everyday. Everyday!” Eun Dan Oh exclaimed, throwing a fluffy pillow at the taller man’s head. “My character’s too cool to get cheated on, I made my own uncle step down from Eun Enterprises with one threat and a glare. But somehow I’m too blind to see the extremely blatant PDA going on right in front of me? What kind of writing is that!”

“Maybe you just don’t mind it? Your character’s kind of in a metaphorical love affair with work so—“

“Please don’t ever call it that, I’ll actually gag.”

“And in their defense…” Do Hwa started, clearing his throat. “Aren’t you kind of in the same boat? You and Haru are like, fated soulmates. And you go on secret journeys every night. And basically live together.” He smiled knowingly and Dan Oh shoved him to the other side of the couch.

“Me and Haru have tried breaking up with our canon counterparts a billion times. We used to do it every other day in hopes they’d remember somehow. Baek Gyeong and Yeo Joo Da just aren’t self aware yet so until then we have to wait.”

Lee Do Hwa nodded and opened his mouth to reply before shutting it. He suddenly looked up to stare at Eun Dan Oh.

“Yeo Joo Da?” Do Hwa’s eyes were wide and Dan Oh was sure that if he were a puppy his ears would be raised in attention right about now.

“Yes, Yeo Joo Da. Her and Haru are the second most important couple in the entire comic.” Eun Dan said, frowning sympathetically. Do Hwa forced a laugh to relieve the tension.

“That sounds…boring.”

“You know I can hear you, right?” Haru’s muffled shout came through the bedroom door where he was studying. Lee Do Hwa shrugged.

“I mean you’re not wrong.” Dan Oh agreed. “They’re super vanilla, who wants to read about a couple with no conflict?”

“Do you think—“ Do Hwa looked down. “Do you think I should talk to her? Introduce myself?” Eun Dan Oh scooted closer and pat his shoulder. She honestly felt for him. At least in ”Secret” Yeo Joo Da was aware that Lee Do Hwa existed. There was no telling how much she knew of their past life or if she’d even be able to remember Lee Do Hwa between scenes. But if Do Hwa was anything, he was likeable. Dan Oh knew that if he put his mind to it he’d make himself known soon enough.

Lost in thought, Dan Oh didn’t hear the telltale sound of Haru opening his bedroom door and coming out to the living area. He gently moved Eun Dan Oh to the side and inserted himself firmly in the middle of the couch once again.

“I think you should do it.” Haru said, opening his notebook and getting right back to studying. “You have a name now. That’s a start, right?”

Haru was smiling brightly at Lee Do Hwa and Eun Dan Oh could tell he was trying to convey his approval and other unsaid emotions in just that look. How thankful he was to have Do Hwa around even if he didn’t say much, how well he personally understood such a tragic situation. And just like Haru had Do Hwa and Dan Oh back then, Do Hwa had them now. They were the Three Musketeers and even if Yeo Joo Da didn’t recognize him at first they’d help him through it. Just the three of them had done things way more difficult. They’d changed fate multiple times, in comparison this was nothing.

“Thank you, Haru. It’s not that I still like her but…She’s important to me, you know? I still feel kind of responsible to make sure she’s okay. I know that’s selfish of me.” Do Hwa sighed and stared at the ceiling. “Why are feelings so complicated. I wish I could just have an affair like everybody else.”

Eun Dan Oh grabbed the pillow and reached across Haru to whack Do Hwa again.

“Asshole.”

“But you guys love me!” He pouted.

Haru hummed but didn’t make a single move to stop Eun Dan Oh’s onslaught of pillow attacks. “I guess you’re right about that.”

Eun Dan Oh finally put her weapon down and glared. “If not for the fact that I love you and it would make Haru sad, I would smite you where you stand.”

Lee Do Hwa stuck out his tongue, only to hop off the couch and dash away when Dan Oh grabbed one of Haru’s three inch thck textbooks. They chased each other around the cramped apartment and Haru closed his notebook in defeat. His studying would have to wait until another time.

#extraordinary you #dodanru #i'll post this on ao3 soon but idk how to use it yet #my writing

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 4 years

Text

FIC: Something Borrowed, Something Blue ii

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PART ONE

Wednesday morning started dark and early for her. Sleepy kisses as she bid good morning to the other in the bed, not due to get up for another three hours, and checked in on the youngest of the household to ensure he was still fast asleep before showering and preparing for the day.

Usually Jo would sleep for another thirty minutes, but given today was due to be a long one filled with photos as she baked and decorated the demonstration trial cake from scratch, she figured an extra thirty minutes to ensure her hair and make up looked nice for the day (though inevitably she’d be flour covered by the end of the day and tendrils would fall out of the nice high pony tail before lunch). Usually she would get to wake up and luxuriate in bed for a while before getting up, showering and then waking Billy to get prepared for pre-school. Today, Jack would get the pleasure of preparing the boy for the day, making him breakfast and hearing him babble about whatever strange dream he had the night before.

Dressing for the day in a pair of denim shorts and one of the oversized shirts that still remained in her wardrobe after five years, Jo smacked her lips together and blotted the excess from her red lips as she gathered her recipe-slash-sketch book and headed out to the bakery as the sun barely made it’s creeping way into the sky. Overhead the clouds were still the dark inky blue of night time, just slightly tinged golden to the edge and purples slowly building their way through the rolling masses. The perfect inspiration for her work that day, quickly snapped a few times as she walked on her way to the bakery.

As she reached the front door, she could see the exhausted looking journalist outside already, hands clutching as if to a lifeline to the Starbucks cup. At least she knew she looked more prepared for the day than him even if it was only just past five in the morning.

“Good morning Chuck.”

The grumbled sound she got in response made Jo laugh as she unlocked the front door of the bakery. Moving inside and flicking the lights on, she noticed the man slip in behind her before sinking into one of the closest chairs as she got the space prepared for the morning. The smell of baking bread was already filling the air, her favourite part of having automatically timed ovens that she could avoid the two am starts that other places had to endure. Flicking the coffee machine on, refilling the front displays with prepared trays of cookies, cakes, slices, pastries and other goodies, Jo hummed to herself practically forgetting the other was there aside from the odd groan.

There were breads to be pulled from the ovens, trays of prepared cupcakes and brownies to go back in, a pot of caramel to be placed on the stove while the shortbread bases baked; there were muffins to be loaded into the cake displays and covered with their glass dome, glass cookie jars to be refilled and brownies to be stacked high on plates within the display case. There was milk to be checked on, fruit tarts to be glazed and mixers to be started up with bases for the rest of the days work. And finally there was a section of the kitchen to be set up in preparation for making the wedding cake base later in the morning, butter to be set out to come up to room temperature and ingredients to be laid out in decorative bowls and artfully positioned.

As the clock approached six am, the first few customers began appearing - mostly other cafes for their daily pick ups that Jo moved through easily with a laugh and a smile, and the exchange of a bunch of mint with one of the herbal stores a few blocks away that always ordered raisin and oat cookies, an entire crate full of lemons and beetroots from Mrs. Mills who ran a tea shop just out of the city who grew her own produce but was a failure baking them into anything herself but would trade ingredients for discounted trays of pastries to go along with the tea and best homemade lemonade and hard cider in the area, and the constant flirting that even now Jo never could stop partaking in when Andy came by blushing and stammering for his special brownies for the medicinal store he ran across town. Others breezed in and out smoothly, and Jo had already poured Chuck his third coffee before the hour was out by the time her long-haired barista-lawyer arrived to start up the morning as the first of the commuters would begin to arrive.

“C’mon Chuck, lets get this shoot set up for today, huh?”

There was an almost awake nod before Jo lead the way back into the kitchen where she began to lend a hand setting up a selection of cameras to capture time-lapse as well as real time footage of her working through the preparations for a demonstration cake with all the elements she’d discussed. The cupcakes had been selling well and she thought that the blueberry icing was the way to go underneath the fondant for today’s trial in preparation of Friday’s mock-up. Usually Jo mocked up cake after cake once every few weeks for a wedding, but with the amount she’d be making these flavors this week she felt comforted that she’d be fine until a few weeks before the wedding itself this time around.

“Alrighty, fondant time.” Jo chirped to herself quietly two hours later, an ongoing stream of conversation from her having filled the morning where mostly she talked to herself or sang along with the radio while Chuck seemed to either work on typing up his notes from the last two days or try to wake up still. The fondant work was always her favorite thing when she got the chance to do it, for one important reason. Slapping the large white block of fondant down and cutting it into pieces with a dough scraper, Jo let out a laugh as she started working a quarter out with her rolling pin. “Who needs a gym when you can bake instead?”

“Who indeed?” Chuck’s answer was just as vacant and distracted as her own question had been, and Jo felt a laugh pop right back up at how relaxed and unobtrusive the other was to her work. He’d barely looked up from his laptop as she’d made the batter for each tier of the much downsized trial cake for the development today; and Jo liked it that way.

Working the white fondant out until it was a thin enough sheet to go through her larger scaled roller, she called him over to move a camera to catch the process as she fed the fondant through one end over and over until it was paper thin. Slicing out little shapes of various sizes and laying them out on a baking sheet dusted with potato starch and layer separated by a tea towel, Jo spent the next hour slowly making those white petals and then various petals of lilac and deep aubergine as well in smaller amounts. As she did that, there were cakes and brownies removed from ovens, loaves of bread traded out and cupcakes and pastries a plenty made and prepared all over again like her Monday in anticipation of the day off tomorrow to keep the bakery ticking over.

By lunch time, Jo had three full trays, six layers deep of petal and leaf shapes, and long flouncy ruffles to do an ombred ruffled layer, as well as the white fondant ready to be marbleised with the different purple shades after a lunch break.

“So,” The journalist’s voice caught her as Jo finally sat down for the first time in some seven hours as the clock hit just after one in the afternoon as she cut herself a slice of salmon quiche after dishing up the same for the other man. Perched on her stool and pulled up close to the central island, Jo raised a brow across at the finally awake voice and her eyes spotted the running silver dictaphone in the middle of the bench as they started her lunch break. Sam had been in the hour before for a quick bite while Jo’d worked the coffee machine for the quick lunch rush, and the amount of cocoa on her cheeks was less than normal considering. “I got my rough draft from a lot of stuff yesterday-”

“Was that helpful for you? Thinking about getting into INKED and leaving Rolling Stone?”

“Eye opening, yes, but I’m stuck here until this sham of a wedding is complete.” Chuck grumbled the words out quietly, eyes focused on the trashy magazine pile he’d brought with him that day that held stories that Jo suspected were about the bride and her ‘whirlwind’ romance - the fake stories that didn’t have a lick of truth to them.

Her back when rigid and Jo found herself snarling sharply at the accusation against her friend, lips curled into a sneer. “Now listen here, buddy. Absolutely nothing about this wedding is a sham.” Jo’s brown eyes flashed dangerously for a second as she caught his eye finally, and found herself shaking her head and holding up a hand as the other’s mouth opened to speak. “No no. No talking until I’m done. I get that you might have an image of what Shada is like, what she does for a living, how she presents herself to the world, and the way the show she’s on has given her whole... storyline. But absolutely none of that is accurate to the woman I know. Nor to the man that loves her, and the depth of their romance.”

“Oh?” Chuck’s brow raised in return before he set his magazines back down and picked up his notepad and pen instead even though his laptop was open beside him. An analog guy it seemed. “Well, I’ve got to say - I’d love to be able to write the most genuine series of articles I can about this wedding compared to this-”

“Trash.” Jo supplied the word at the gesture of his pen towards the stack of magazines, and the bemused smile she got for it made her hackles drop from how they had been risen.

“Exactly.” The other nodded for a moment before gesturing his hand at her. “Well, tell me the real story again then - I know we covered some yesterday but that’s just broad strokes. Give me fine details, huh?”

Jo found herself sighing, and then launching into the many, many positive and wonderfully genuine parts to her friend throughout the rest of the afternoon. For the next four hours as she layered the small cakes together with buttercream, crumb coated and then fondant wrapped one in the ombre ruffles, one into the beautiful purple marble coated and then sparkling with carefully placed gold-leaf, and the lilac purple buttercream cake which was then covered in the delicate roses made out of the petals - each with tiny edging of silver-leaf and shimmering with a light layer of lustre dust. And as she assembled the small practice cakes, she talked of her friend.

Shada’s genuine smiles, her love of her brother, how she’d always be kind to anyone and everyone she met. The way the dark haired woman never once ordered anyone directly to do something, unless it was followed by an apology for being pushy. How the girl had grown so much in the two years Jo had known her, and the maturity and wisdom that she spoke with on a regular basis. How Shada was so kind to her son, and the way the girl truly wanted to get married and have a family. That Shada had been unsure about the wedding being a part of the show and covered as much as it was, even if she’d daydreamed as a teenager of being rich and famous and a star-studded wedding to one of the Jonas Brothers - that now she was marrying the love of her life, that the brunette would be truly happy marrying in a potato sack (”one that she would obviously make purple and look beautiful in though!”) and still be happy. How the starlet had planned originally to have a quiet, intimate wedding at Ian’s family manor in France during the break in filming, before the couple had talked about the opportunity and agreed after being approached that they could do this for Shada’s career and have the smaller, intimate celebration for their anniversary the following year.

It was as Jo continued to place tiny edible pearls around the roses, that she found herself being guided into reminiscing about her own wedding in comparison. The quick court house event that she’d worn a lacey, white shift dress she’d bought for $2.50 at a secondhand store while her Marine wore his dress uniform. The posey of baby’s breath in her hand and the way the ceremony was completed in no time in front of her mom, Bobby the other couples getting married right before and after them. How the only photograph was taken by Ellen on the courthouse steps as she’d been lifted in her husband’s arms and one of her shoes had fallen off as she’d laughed. That her wedding dinner was pizza in bed as they watched some old black and white movie that he loved, and Jo’d fallen asleep in no time. That he’d been shipped out two months later, and dead within four from then.

And she spoke softly, as she wrapped the fourth option in a layer of plain white fondant before collecting her airbrush kit and the array of purples, blacks and golds to start covering the blank canvas in her own form of art, of how much she wished the couple far more than half a year of happiness. The gentle whistle of the airbrush as she delicately mottled the colors together and as she smiled thinking to herself that she was absolutely certain the pair would have that.

The noise from the front of the bakery was quieting down as Jo finished the last flourish and grinned across at the journalist as he continued to look up and down between her and his notepad. It was closing time, and she had four examples to show her friend on Friday when her and her fiance arrived originally for the final design choices, and she’d have enough cake prepared to do a full size mock up of the design they chose that day as the journalist would talk to the couple and snap photos beside her and her work. But for today, she was done and began putting away the demonstrations and the baked goods and doughs she’d prepared for Sam to utilise tomorrow while she was out with the bride and her entourage.

“Jojo, mamacita, your boyfriend is bothering me again!” The called voice that bounced through the door to the front as Ash pushed it open and followed in the grinning professor with his own laugh. “He was bothering me about someone’s photoshoot and when those photos would be coming in.”

“I wasn’t-” Jack’s blushed furiously as he moved towards her at the fridge, his hands reaching out to go around her waist before stopping short noticing the scruffy journalist packing away his laptop and notepad though the dictaphone stayed out in the middle of the bench. In an instant, his arms dropped to his side and Jo found herself frowning to see the smile drop just as quickly from his face and whatever he’d been saying disappear along with it. “... Jo.”

“Hunny.”

“How was your day?”

Arching a blonde brow, Jo let out a bit of a laugh to herself as she noticed the focus of Jack’s eyes on the silver recording device until Chuck’s hand wrapped about it and tucked it away in his messenger bag.

“It was fine,” Jack’s voice was still tight and quiet, brushing against the curve of her ear as she moved in closer, before he spoke a little louder and clearer. “Have a good evening, Mr Shurley. Big day tomorrow, right?”

“Oh, absolutely. Seven beautiful women and an array of gowns?” Chuck grinned widely as he moved about the kitchen towards the door and Ash’s equally appreciative grin. Raising a hand in a wave, he pressed it against his chest, mocking a wound. “How did I get this job, huh? Luckiest bastard-”

“Your week just keeps gettin’ better and better!” Ash laughed along with him and he followed the reporter out of the bakery with a wave behind him at the couple, closing the swinging door behind him. “See ya later, lovebirds.”

“Tell Sam I’ll close up!” Jo called out loudly to the others back as the door swung back and forth and finally closed, before she found two hands wrapped around her waist and then let out a squeal as she was lifted up onto her still floury work surface. “Hun!”

“Yes?” Jack’s lips spread into a wicked smile as he leaned in to catch her own for a moment before pulling back. Jo could feel her cheeks heating up as his fingers brushed over her flour and sugar covered hair to tuck a few strands back before he kissed her again, thoroughly and hard, fingers tangled in her messy hair. There were a long, heated moment before he pulled back again leaving her breathless as he let out his own sigh. “What a day.”

“Yeah? What happened?” Jo ran her own fingers through his hair gently in return as the slightly stressed look she’d remembered from the last years exam time started up again. He always ran himself ragged during them, and if nothing else, she could ease some of his stress with her kisses and touch. “Tell me all about it over dinner?”

“I’d much rather hear about your day.” He replied gently, leaning into her touch for a moment before they both smiled at one another.

Jo recalled the discussion of the day as they packed up the kitchen and closed up the front of the bakery too, with Jack’s hands carefully wiping the flour from her jeans and then helping her to pack each thing away as needed. They took no time at all to close up and walked hand in hand on their way back to Jack’s house. As he’d wrapped his fingers around hers, Jo couldn’t help but think as she talked about how happy she was for his little sister finding the love of her life, that perhaps she’d been lucky enough to find another one.

Dinner was quieter that night - Bobby and Ellen taking care of Billy for the next two nights as a fun sleep over as well as to keep him from getting Jo to run late the next morning - than usual with just the two of them, but at the same time it meant that Jo could relax on the sofa with her feet up and a glass of wine while she could hear the quiet humming of a song and the sizzle of bacon and the bubbling of pasta from the kitchen without lifting a finger.

“Carbonara?” Jo sniffed the coated pasta happily as the bowl was offered out to her and she swung her legs around to sit upright as the dark haired man took the seat beside her. “You spoil me.”

“Not nearly enough for what you’re going to be dealing with tomorrow for me.” Jack’s voice was gentle and teasing in equal measure as he slumped beside her and kicked his own feet up on the coffee table. The baker curled up beside him and tucked her feet under his legs as they both dug into their dinner together.

Jo shook her head, smiling. “Nah, I’m doing it for your sister, you idjit.”

“How am I an ...idjit?!”

“Because, hun,” She giggled quietly, slurping up one of the noodles with a loud noise before smiling widely. “Not everything is about you. And I love your sister all on her own.”

“You do, do you?” His voice was softer than before then, the teasing tone bleeding out and replaced with something gentler and that made her stomach flip a little as he chewed on his own mouthful thoughtfully before swallowing. Jack turned his head to catch her eyes with those piercing blue ones of his, staring straight at her and if Jo could she would have melted right then under his look as he quirked one side of his lips up. “And why’s that?”

Jo’s tongue felt ten times too big while her mouth felt parched of any kind of moisture before she blinked a few times out of that look. Her cheeks a bright red, she smiled back simply. “Because, she’s more like family now.”

“Aunty Shayday and all?”

“Exactly.”

If she was red before, it was nothing on the flaming feeling of her whole face and neck as Jack’s eyes had searched hers for something she wasn’t sure of as they spoke, before he finally seemed to reach a conclusion and turn back towards the television with a small, secretive smile. “Well, that’s good that you’re not going to be tortured for me.” There was a beat as Jo recovered herself and the other chewed another mouthful of pasta, before he added cheekily, “Now I don’t need to spoil you tomorrow night too.”

“Hey! No fair!” Jo laughed and giggled then, cuddling into his side as they settled in to watch a movie and then head up to bed later. It would be a relaxing night before the inevitable stresses of the next day, and she was going to savour every moment of calm she could fit in before the morning came.

But come it did.

Rolling over onto her back as she climbed off of her love with a quiet, happy moan as his hands followed her path to continue running across the bright colors of her sides, Jo wished she didn’t have to get out of the bed at all. Her skin was marked all over between her tattoos and the signs of their lovemaking, but if she had it her way they’d both stay there until there wasn’t a piece of skin without the ghost of his lips on it. Stretching her back and letting out a giggle at the slight tickle to her side, she finally sat up after the other rolled out his side of the bed to grab a shower and rush out to work. She’d made him late for his 8am class, but as Jack threw a glance in the mirror from the ensuite over his shoulder back at her with his toothbrush dangling from his lips and sudsy teeth flashing a grin at her, Jo knew she wasn’t in trouble for keeping him in bed.

Rolling her hips back and forth and tossing about languidly like a cat waking from a long nap, boneless and pleased, she finally pushed herself upright before going to wrap an arm around the dark haired man’s shoulder to press a kiss on his back before heading to the shower.

She used to argue about staying the night here in his lavish townhouse - about his giving her a drawer in the ensuite and another in the wardrobe, and then more wardrobe space, and then how he got a cot-attachment added to the spare bed so that Billy could stay sleeping when he’d go down after dinner. And then it seemed pointless when her yearly lease came up and instead of renewing she found herself moving every bit of her life into a new house. Even the box of the clothes and books she’d still not thrown away, though she’d forgotten she still had it before the move. The spare, spare, spare room was reconfigured into Billy’s room, and Jack had even added another desk to the study and cleared shelves for Jo to add her cook books to the lounge and dining room spaces. Her cupcake cushions replaced his modernist blue ones, and there was a toy box brought in and added to each and every room in the house. Her tattoo designs went up on the wall beside a large oil painting of some beautiful woman with her face hidden behind shadow that held a dripping book out - Jo had not been surprised to learn that was one of the last of Jack’s work before he quit, the sheer mania, depression and confusion in the brush strokes hit her hard every time she stopped to stare up into the dark void where the woman’s eyes should be but weren’t yet felt like she was screaming out from. And in the kitchen her trinkets and gadgets and utensils had filled the drawers that before had the spartan one knife-fork-spoon combination.

The rainfall shower head was a luxury, and Jo waved goodbye through the fogged up glass as Jack left, leaving her to spend a good amount of time lathering and rinsing her hair. The whole room smelled like the bakery as she stepped out from the mists and set about doing her hair and make up nicely, but not too nicely as to upstage the stars of what was going on today. A little wave, a messy bun and just enough concealer to cover the darkest spots that littered her neck and her under eyes for different reasons was all that she needed to do to look suitable - if she needed anything more, Jo figured since it was actually being filmed but not scripted, she’d have access to an actually talented make up artist. Besides, she was known as the bubbly, cute baker girl so it made sense she looked a little rougher around the edges. At least this time she’d not have flour in her hair or cocoa on her nose.

Jeans and a black knit sweater, followed by a green hoodie borrowed from Jack’s wardrobe was her choice for the day. What she wore on the outside mattered less than wearing the nude colored strapless bra and nude toned underwear, but she drew the line at wearing heels for the whole day. Tossing her keys, phone and a few paper bags of snacks into her bag and her travel mug of coffee in hand before dashing out the door, the blonde flagged down the first taxi she saw and spent the trip chewing on her nails.

She hadn’t had to deal with bridesmaids for her own wedding - there hadn’t been time, and besides she hadn’t had female friends back when she was twenty-one and flunking out of her history major - and the few bridal parties that had come through the bakery had scared her immensely that a group of women with one goal in mind was a terrifying thing. To be part of said group felt entirely alien for her, and Jo half wished she could be on the grooms side of the aisle in a suit and without any drama instead.

Far quicker than she had wished, the taxi pulled up out front of the nondescript building with the small black sign and Jo handed over a twenty to cover the trip and tip as she clambered out ungracefully onto the pavement before steeling her nerves. She could spot that one camera guy she always spotted winking at everyone and who she had enjoyed flirting shamelessly and harmlessly with every time they filmed at the bakery leaning against the brickwork by the building’s door.

“Hey Gabey, what’s cracking?”

“Well now, gorgeous, that’d be spoiling the surprise wouldn’t it?”

“Like you care about spoilers!”

Gabriel, the previous camera man turned B-director, shook his head with a laugh and a smirk as she needled him for answers. “Come now, you know I need to get genuine reactions from you all.”

The blonde laughed in return, quirking a brow up at him. “Are you suggesting that I, Jo Harvelle, might not give a genuine reaction?”

“I plead the fifth.” The dark haired director laughed back, shouldering his camera bag on his shoulder with a sigh as a trio of black cars arrived and began unpacking with the rest of the small camera and other crew members poured out and then quickly into the building. “Ugh, I know Shada wished this could have been skipped-”

“But that would miss out so much potential drama, right?” Jo smiled back at him for a moment, before digging about in her bag to pull out one of the paper bags. Waving it at him, she raised a brow. “I’ll trade you these for confirmation that there isn’t any scripted drama today and that I don’t have to fake anything other than that I don’t think Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee are vicious conniving bitches.”

The bag was exchanged in a flash, and the wide, toothy grin she got back in response when the other saw the selection of chocolate chip cookies that were also made using her burnt butter base and shards of salted toffee inside made her smile back at the cheeky salute before Gabe moved off with a shout for some hair stylist ‘Balthy’ to get his ass inside quickly.

Jo found herself leaning up against the wall herself instead, the warmth from the other’s back still in the brick, as she pulled her phone out to start getting ahead on orders and emails while she had the time. She dipped a hand into her bag to fetch out the bannana bread, oat muffin with peanut butter she’d packed for her breakfast that she started nibbling at between coffee sips as she waited. It was just before nine, but the girls were known to be late.

Over the next thirty minutes others slowly trickled into arriving - first was the taller blonde girl with a big, wide smile and the cutest habit of always covering her hair in little lace bows that was Ian’s little sister; followed by the brunette Bela who’s sunglasses hid almost all of her face except for her pout, and then the newly black haired Ruby with a snappy greeting for everyone before disappearing off at the wave of greeting from the director of the day. Jo was talking at length with Ombre about the different cake designs she had been working on and was showing her the photos of the trials from the day before when the next two women arrived.

“Oh lookie, the baker is here too.” The clipped tone pulled Jo out of explaining to the excited Ombre just how to make the ruffled cake that matched her name, and looking over her shoulder at the new arrivals, the blonde didn’t even bother to keep the sneer off her lips as she looked at the redhead. Anna smirked back, smugly, raising a brow at her. “I suppose you’re here to make our dear Shada seem more grounded right?”

“No, no, Anna, it’s cause she’s trying to fuck her way into society the same way Shada did.” Lilith’s snide comment rolled out from her with an equally vicious grin on her lips at getting to throw a few comments in before she would need to play nice-r to the cameras. “Tell me, Jojo, did you give her pointers for how to do that with your step-daddy or-”

“Lilith, you better shut your goddamn fucking mouth before I shut it for you.” There wasn’t even a beat before Jo had the other blonde pushed back against the brickwork with a hand around her neck, pressure tight but not dangerous as she glared up at the other woman. She held the position for a count of five in her head, before stepping back and leaning down to pick her coffee up from where she’d left it earlier. “Today is about Shada, and I will not have a single person say a negative thing about her, her life, her choices or anything to do with her and this wedding or anything else, okay?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself!” The deeper than usual tone cut through the small crowd of women as Ruby arrived back with their director in tow right then. Gabriel’s eyes caught Jo’s for a split second longer than the others as he stared each woman down - and all she could think was that this poor man had to herd this crowd of women day in and day out without anyone unconnected enough to lay down the law, and how much harder that must be dealing with five grown women than one almost-five year old. “Anyway, ladies, if you could head inside for the last touch ups and then Shada should be here and we’ll reconvene outside for the outside shots, right?”

Jo wasn’t at all surprised by the warm clasp of the dark haired Ruby’s arm around her shoulders leading her and Ombre inside into the ridiculous process of last minute checks and confirmations from the miniature hair and make up team preparing for the day. The younger blonde almost cried when the hair stylist Balthazar suggested taking out some of her bows, and then the fact both Anna and Bela were made to change their dresses to something different due to ‘looking too alike’ in the camera was insane. Jo watched on in a mixture of shock, awe and disdain as the make up, hair and wardrobe stylists did their work, and was only a little relieved when she was left alone as ‘good enough’ since she doubted she’d be filmed much that day. If she was, she’d have to bring out her back up bribery too. Ruby likewise was left alone, and the make up artist glared daggers at Jo when Lilith complained her neck looked ‘a little too red’. But everyone was touched up and finalised within half an hour, and Shada too had arrived and was barely containing her nerves.

She wasn’t sure when he arrived, but Jo noticed Chuck walking about behind other cameras and ducking under wardrobe racks at one point with his camera out and dictaphone hanging from a cord on his neck. Jo smiled when she caught his eye, but thankfully today wasn’t actually about her. Today was his content for the month after her cake special - all about the bridesmaids - and she would barely be spoken to today. This was his first chance to interview and speak with the other five bridesmaids, so really Jo would get to spend most of the day talking to Shada and keeping her company instead.

As the group were guided out to the black trio of cars again and slid into various seats to represent the way they would arrive to the studio, Jo laughed when Gabe grabbed her arm and had her lean up against the building instead.

“Really?”

“What can I say? The lighting looks great on you like that. Besides,” Gabe grinned conspiratorially at her as they waited for Shada and Ombre to climb into the third car, with Ruby and Lilith into the second and Anna and Bela in the first, “It means you didn’t have to go into one of the cars with those conniving bitches.”

“My hero.” Jo replied with a flourish of eyelash batting and laughter alike as she picked up her coffee mug, refilled by Shada’s PA Kevin, and began checking her phone as instructed and felt natural to her as she waited for this intro shooting to finish.

Soon enough the group were ushered back into the salon - now looking like a proper boutique rather than the explosion of wardrobe and styling that it had looked before - and Shada was greeted enthusiastically by the extremely smug fashion designer Meg Masters from Mastersara Bridal.

“Welcome, ladies, to my boutique.” The brown waves around the woman’s face were so well quaffed, like the other starlets that surrounded Jo as they moved into the space and were guided by the designer towards the luxurious white sofas with the golden accents. The whole group looked mostly put together, and Jo could tell as she made sure not to look directly down the lens of the camera walking backwards before them as they moved that there was a clear line between the reality stars, and herself and Ombre. If she hadn’t already been sure, then the look of distaste that swept the designers face as Jo slumped down on one end of the couch beside the perky blonde was enough to confirm it. “Our sophisticated designs are here for your review, and I am certain that you will find the perfect design for your vision in our collection.” The glance towards Shada and the rest of the stars as the B-camera came to pan across each womans’ reactions was enough to make Jo fight not to snort. “Mastersara Bridal is for not only the modern bride, but the modern bridal party - and we are so touched-” Jo found herself frowning at the tone as the dark haired woman said that word, the tiny curl to her lip and slight sardonic element to it as Meg’s eyes forcefully stayed staring straight, “-that you are here to select your gowns.”

Glancing to her right at the bride herself, Jo could see the glimmer of excitement and the wet sheen in the brunette’s eyes as she smiled that beautiful way that lit up the whole room. The family trait that Jo knew so well, and found herself smiling in return about it as Shada clapped her hands excitedly.

“I love shopping!” The excited giggle that came from the bride was perfectly timed, and the laughter that rippled out was almost entirely genuine from the group that were there, before Shada bounced back up to her feet. “I’m so excited!”

“I’m sure you are,” Meg smiled back, a tiny slice of danger behind white teeth, but waved a hand towards one side of the room. “Let’s see what we can find, shall we ladies?”

Jo actually flinched at the loud squealed exclamations from all the other women, before the group dispersed quickly in a rush in all different directions. Blinking in surprise, she caught the bemused look on their director’s face for the day as he bit into one of his cookies with a wink as he waved a hand for the three other camera men to start following the rest of the group.

Taking a deep breath as the noise slowly quieted down and instead each small group of women began talking amongst themselves, the blonde leaned over her knees as she breathed in and out. This was a lot. She was used to having this level of excitement and such around her, but as she finally got to her feet and approached where Shada was talking animatedly about only wanting purple shades regardless of if certain people’s hair would clash horribly and wash them out, Jo was surprised to realise that it was overwhelming for her in a way she’d never experienced before.

“Oh Bela, I know you’re not a fan, but green just is so not my color wheel.” Shada giggled loudly at the seductive green silk dress the other brunette was holding up to her frame. “Besides, you’re a bridesmaid - you’re not there to be sexy.”

“Says you.” Bela tossed her head back with a smile, eyes flashing and Jo was sure that the camera was eating every second of that wicked look. “You know weddings are the perfect place to meet men, and I know that Ian has some equally rich and handsome cousins-”

“No!” The chirp came from the blonde that stuck her head with a very exaggerated scowl through the nearest clothing rack. Ombre eyed the actress with a frown for a moment before adding sharply, “My cousins are all gay. Or married. Or-”

“Or you’re lying to disuade me.”

“Maybe.”

“Girls, lets not fight - we’ve got to find dresses.” Jo found herself speaking up as the bickering back and forth began and all she could envision was how frustrating it was to deal with Billy’s squabbling with his friends and put her foot in before it could get going. “Shada, how about you get everyone to grab a dress or two - so long as they can be made in a purple tone - and we can get started?”

There was a second before her friend’s arms went around her waist and Jo found herself laughing along with Shada as she grinned back at her. “See? This is why we need a mom around here! Someone who knows what they’re doing!” Looking over Jo’s shoulder, Shada flapped her hand at those around the room. “Let’s get trying!”

The god awful squeal happened again, and biting down on a wince, Jo let Shada link their arms together and herself be towed about the room as the brunette reviewed dress after dress with the designer pointing out features left and right. It took forever, but perhaps that was just how it felt to Jo, before the six bridesmaids were each sent off to their own dressing rooms with a large array of dresses in each to match one another - guided to start from the left to the right.

Letting out a sigh, Jo stripped off and quickly pulled on the first dress with little struggle. At least this one, compared to some of the others, looked a lot less intimidating. Tugging the chiffon straps carefully, Jo frowned when they wouldn’t stay up and instead hung off her shoulder. It must have been intentional, she thought as she readjusted her bra and settled everything where it should be before there was a called out direction by the directing man for the bridesmaids to emerge on the count of three.

Sighing to herself, Jo followed instructions and moved out of her changing room towards the central space in line with the other bridesmaids to scrutiny.

Looking down the line, the blonde found herself smiling to see Ombre swishing the skirt of the soft lilac dress happily, while both Anna was trying not to scowl on camera while trying to pull her dress down enough to show more cleavage than should be necessary or was acceptable in such a simple and classic dress. The color looked beautiful on a few of the other women’s skin tones, but washed out others like Bela and Ombre.

Jo jerked at the sound of a laugh near her, and looked over to see Chuck with his camera pointed directly at her while Gabe was directing his own the cameras away from her. Frowning, she raised a brow at the men in confusion.

“Have a good night, Jo?” Chuck asked, tone full of implication, as Shada and Lilith bickered about whether the color of the dress was dramatic enough or not. Jo frowned further in confusion until the reporter gestured at her neck. “Should have remembered you were doing things today.”

Turning her head towards the mirror, Jo let out a loud laugh noticing the dark patch under her ear that was visible now she’d switched her borrowed hoodie out for a dress. Giggling, she looked about for an option before a tall, lanky blond came over with a compact and whispered at her in an accent that would have once upon a time been dreamy about “got mauled by an octopus did you, dearie?”

Thankfully the rest of the women were busy squabbling or enjoying their dresses that by the time all turned towards Jo she was covered sufficiently and could simply say she thought the dress was ‘nice’ and ‘a good start’ without any further questions other than to turn the topic back to the bride.

“I agree, Jo, it’s a good start. I love the color - its so lovely and reminds me of spring! It would match the wisteria arches perfectly...” Shada frowned slightly in the sweetest looking frown Jo had seen in a while, tapping at her lip with a finger as her brows furrowed and a camera came in for a close up. “But something about the strap bothers me. Onto the next!”

The clap that followed that was order enough for the bridesmaids and director alike for them all to return to the dressing rooms for the next dress.

Jo emerged before being called this time - half to check that she didn’t have anything extra to be hidden and half to check on the bride herself - and found herself blushing at the loud exclamations of how beautiful she looked from her friend.

“Oh Jo, you have to get a dress like this some day. My brother would eat you up!” Shada leaped off of the sofa to run up to her, all smiles and grins as the camera crew focused on taking b-roll of the store itself while the other women struggled to get dressed. The brunette took her hands in a second before tugging for Jo to spin so the soft, tulle swirled about in a beautiful arch while Jo could hear in the background the shutter of the reporter’s ever observant camera going off. “Look at your figure, wow. Wow. You’d totally steal the show from me!”

Jo laughed along with the other at that, aware that the warm tone and the way the other pulled her in for a hug that that would in no way be true but the sentiment felt so strongly. She did look nice, she supposed, catching a glimpse in the mirror. She was just lucky her breasts had shrunk back to almost the same level after having weaned Billy onto a bottle all those years ago, because with much more cleavage and she’d look very different in this dress.

The rest of the bridesmaids slowly emerged, and Jo bit down on a smirk at the decreasingly excited or pleased reaction each woman got as more appeared in the beautiful design. The deep-v that looked lovely on Jo, Lilith and Ombre, looked borderline tacky on the two dark haired women when Bela and Ruby emerged even if the dark purple color of the bodice looked beautiful on their complexions. And on the redhead when Anna eventually emerged, it looked downright tawdry.

“Oh no.” Shada shook her head, eyes fixed on the ample curve of bossom visible in the deep-v of the redhead’s dress before she swept a glance over the rest of them with a wistful look. “No, no, this one won’t do. You all look far too sultry and amazing. Though perhaps I should buy one of these for my hen’s night?”

The round of laughter and eye rolls that came from that, as well as the extreme pout from the redhead were amusing, and Jo made her way over in a swish of fabric as the rest moved back to the dressing room to catch the bride’s arm.

“Hey, Shada sweetheart, it’s absolutely okay if we don’t find something today, okay?”

“But-”

“No,” Jo shook her head at the somewhat deflated look on the other’s face as Jo guided her to sit down. “I know all those girls have their own expectations of what they want to look like, but you should know that this is about what you want and what will make you happiest.”

The glance the dark haired woman gave to the cameras that were now focused on the pair was concerning, though Jo reached out to grip her chin firmly but gently and caught her eye again. “No. This is about you Shada, not any of that. This is all about you, and your love and your happiness - not the dresses, not the cameras or the opinions or the whims of everyone else. You tell me which dress you want, when you see it, and I will make sure you get exactly what you want.” Jo could feel the prickle of tears at the corner of her eyes as she said it - remembering the voice that was becoming less clear growling to her that 'whatever makes you happy’ when she’d said she just wanted her own wedding over with - before smiling widely. “You are the bride, Shada, and this is about your big day. Not everything else happening around it.”

There was a beat before the younger girl nodded her head a few times and Jo wrapped her up in a tight, bone-crushing hug for a moment regardless of the cameras on them and the shutter sound of the smaller ones. After a moment, she pulled back and knocked her fist gently against the other’s chin before rushing back to her dressing room to get into the next dress.

Jo barely refrained from jerking away when she noticed the next dress, scowling to herself as she pulled it on and tugged at the turtleneck of it as it scratched at her skin. Turning in the mirror, she pulled a face all over again at the figure hugging nature of the dress and just how much of a Mom-ass she looked to have already in that dress.

Heading to her spot in the line up, Jo found herself biting back a laugh at the vehement fight breaking out between Shada and Lilith over the dress itself.

“No way! They’re too sparkly-”

“I happen to think these are better than those trashy, boring dresses from before.”

“You all look trashy now!”

“You would know!”

“Get the Hell out of those things!” Shada shrieked, gesturing along the line of women as the smirking blonde continued to tug her dress to show of every single curve of her body in the dress in a way Jo was trying to conceal for herself. “My wedding is not in Las Vegas! No way, no how, get out of them now!”

Jo was glad to turn tail without even being out in that one for even a minute, before catching sight of the next dress with a sense of dread. Sparkles and sequins weren’t exactly Jo’s dream idea, but as she struggled to work out the straps to the open sides and back of the next dress and had to call a store girl in to help, she couldn’t help but find her breaths rushing realising that perhaps if this dress was chosen she’d definitely stand out.

Emerging to the floor to see Shada, Ombre and Bela gushing about the dresses in the centre of the room and how pretty the color was on each woman, Jo tugged a little at the side of her dress. Glancing towards the large mirrors before them, she could see three quarters of each of her ribcage tattoos on display under the straps - dark lines and bright colors standing out against her skin and the deep eggplant color. Frowning to herself, she moved up towards the other women and blushed brightly when all three turned to look at her with matching frowns at the distracting ink from the design of the dresses.

“What do you think? Too much?” Ruby’s voice cut over them as she moved up as well, and Jo’s eyes went straight to her chest and the limited coverage in this dress compared to the other deep-v. “Not enough?” The additional comment seemed to be addressed over the women’s heads towards the camera crew, and Jo bit down a smile at the smirk and thumbs up sent back to the dark haired beauty from the directing chair. “Shada, me thinks this might not work-” There was a pause as Ruby glanced behind her to see Lilith and Anna emerging too with their own problems of either not filling out or over filling the dresses respectively, before looking around and at the tattoos visible on Jo’s sides. “For multiple reasons.”

Shada’s own face slowly shifted from a smile about how lovely Ombre and Bela had looked in the gowns to taking in the rest with a growing frown before nodding. “Yeah, I love the color though-”

“It’s definitely lovely!” Ombre chirped up from beside Shada with a wide smile, and Jo couldn’t help but feel glad that at least there were two of them on Shada’s side.

“But perhaps the design isn’t quite... accommodating enough?”

“We can expand the cups.” There was a sniffing sound as Meg moved forward to gesture towards the redhead’s chest with a sneer. “For those who need a little more coverage.”

Shada’s eyes darted about between the dresses and the designers frowning disapproval uncertainly, and as she blushed brightly, Jo could tell where this was going. She was such a people pleaser and so lovely a person, but that just meant sometimes she could be trampled too much. Not on Jo’s watch though.

“Oh, but you’d have to change the whole bodice of the dress to cover my tattoos though.” She quickly snapped out, tugging surreptitiously on the dress in the middle to show even more of her ink as she turned to the side, drawing everyone’s eyes over to her and away from Shada. Jo locked eyes with the designer fiercely, lips twitching to go into a smirk at the way the other woman’s own curled up into a sneer. “And then it’s jut a whole different dress. We might as well keep looking.”

“Exactly right, Jo. Thank you.” Shada spoke up then, stepping up to point and tap disapprovingly at the side of her dress as she looked back at the designer and then made a flapping, shoo-hand towards the rest of the bridesmaids. “Next dress, ladies!” As the group dispersed back to their own dressing rooms, the bride reached to hold Jo’s wrist with a smile. “Thank you,” She whispered quietly then, the intent and gratitude clearly pouring out that Jo could do little but smile back before shuffling back to the next dresses.

The fifth dresses resulted in a shouting match about just why was no one in the color purple and why would Shada want to look at silver dresses when none of those designs came in her chosen color; and the sixth was in another pale lavendar color but looked a little too sweet and girly on everyone except Ombre. Jo half thought that girl should be treated as a junior bridesmaid, given she wasn’t even nineteen yet, and could wear the flowy, laced halter dress to be different from the rest - but that idea brought tears to the other blonde at being treated differently and was quickly shut down. The brown bag of elephant ear cookies was quickly brought out and the younger woman calmed down with sugar before they moved onto the next dress. The seventh dress was widely agreed to be Nice But Wrong in a way that nobody could put a finger on and was after about five minutes of dissection to get to the bottom of it called off with a shout of “NEXT!” from the bride that sent them all scurrying away.

Jo had noticed between dresses that Chuck had been making the rounds talking to each of the other bridesmaids for a few minutes before they changed to discuss the wedding, Shada, their involvement and connection, and whatever else he seemed to want to draw out of these women thrown together by a job or through the groom in Ombre’s case. Jo was just glad to avoid talking today until she noticed him hovering by her dressing room as she emerged in the eighth dress.

“So, how is this compared to shopping for your own dress?” Chuck’s voice was quiet, thankfully, in the space as he held the dictaphone between them with a warm smile. “You said it was at an op shop, but did you have much to choose from?”

“Not really. There’s only so many white dresses about the place that aren’t stained, if you feel me.”

“That makes sense. Did you get that feeling though?” Jo found herself raising a brow at the question, which brought out a chuckle from the reporter. “Oh I know, odd for me to ask. But all the other ladies keep talking about some magical feeling or experience, figured you’d be the one to know the truth maybe.”

Jo laughed a little at that, shrugging a bare shoulder as she tilted her head to the side considering. “Hmmm... I don’t think I did. I just picked the dress that fit and looked the nicest.”

“If you were to get married again, what do you think you’d be after this time around? That magical feeling?”

She shook her head as she moved out towards the group, smiling sadly to herself as she glanced back over her shoulder at the man. “Sorry Chuck, I’m a bit too much of a realist these days about marriage and weddings,” Jo felt that prickle again and blinked rapidly for a moment before sighing gently. “Once you’ve experienced that young love feeling, you know that fades. Real love is about the real world, and facing that together. I don’t think you need a magical feeling - just to feel like you’re home and safe together.”

The reporter nodded repeatedly and Jo watched as he pulled out his notepad to make a few more notes as he moved off distractedly out of shot from the other cameras as Jo stepped up on the podium beside the other bridesmaids in this dress.

She had felt a little self concious of her hips and butt in the dress in the dressing room, but standing in line with the other women she couldn’t help but think they’d stumbled upon something that flattered each woman individually without drawing too much attention. Sure, she definitely looked curvy in the dress beside the others, but Anna and Ruby’s chests looked equally full, while Lilith and Ombre’s hair color and svelte figures looked statuesque and beautiful. And Bela just looked gorgeous in any and every dress she’d worn that she blended in with the rest just as lovely in the deep plum dress beside the rest of them.

“Oh. Oh these...” The bride’s eyes had lit up as soon as the six of them has assembled along beside one another, taking in the elegant drop sleeves and gentle curve of the silhouette that flattered each of them together. “I think, maybe...”

As each woman took turns to speak how much they liked the dress - with the sole exclusion of Anna who pouted repeatedly and played up to camera that it was too form fitting while clearly meaning the complete opposite as she continued to perk her chest up higher and twist to make her butt stick out more as she glanced between her own behind and Jo’s own - or at least appreciated the design for various reason, followed by the designer to talk incessantly about how lovely and flattering it was, Jo kept her eyes on Shada’s own wide, glossy ones.

“Well, we still have two more to try!” Ombre interjected when no one seemed to be making a move either way, and watching Shada shake herself out of her thoughts, Jo smiled that perhaps they’d found the one that would make the other happy already.

Stripping out of the dress, Jo let out a yelp at the sound of her curtain being pulled open before scowling in the small mirror in the room back towards the blonde and redhead that were in her doorway, delayed in changing from their interviews with the reporter.

“Excuse fucking you?” Jo snarled the words out, turning to sneer back at them as she lifted the dress back up from the floor to cover her front as she raised a brow at their own nasty looks. “Your rooms are further down.”

“Oh, are they?” Anna’s question sounded innocent, but the way her eyes raked over her disapprovingly made Jo question just how good an actress she thought the other actually was. “Our mistake. Hmm, Jo, what on earth happened to you?”

“What?”

“Those marks. You’re absolutely riddled in such horrible stretchmarks!”

“You’re right, Anna!” Lilith jumped right onto the line of picking as her own eyes ran across Jo’s skin in a way that made her want to throw punches - bra and panties be damned. “Were you a fat little kid? Or is that all from that little bastard you’ve whelped?”

Everything seemed to flash red in that moment, and if it hadn’t been the slight movement of something silver out the corner of her eye, Jo would have grabbed the other blonde by the hair and shut her up one way or another. Instead she glared hatefully at the recorder that stopped her from breaking the sneering bitch’s nose then and there and instead snarled back harshly. “Lilith, grow the fuck up.”

“What?”

“And you too Anna,” Jo hissed the words out, holding the dress tighter against herself as she tried not to let her rage boil over as she glared hatefully between the two of them. “I get you’re pissed that your boob job last year was fucking lopsided, and that you, Lilith, only got released last month for that little coke habit of yours - but I won’t have either of you talking shit about my son or trying to ruin this for Shada. So shut the fuck up, grow the fuck up, and don’t make me force the issue after we’re done here.”

There was a pause as the other two women exchanged a look, and Jo felt a small amount of pleasure as the redhead hiked up her dress on one side self-consciously in a way that Jo had felt before her mind got flooded with anger, before they turned about on their heels to go back to their change rooms. As she slid the curtain back in place she could hear them continue to whispering viciously about her ‘dumptruck ass’ and stretch marks, and one comment that as Jo turned back to the mirror, dropping the dress to the floor, stuck harder. ‘What makes her think she’s so special to be included here? Just cause she tricked Shada’s rich older brother into thinking she’s someone worth anything.’

Staring back into the mirror for a moment, Jo struggled to keep her face straight even to herself as she ran an eye over each of the imperfections they’d named as well as every other problem she saw in herself - each cut and mark and the less taunt skin around her stomach that had never gone back as tight as it used to be and the way her arms were too muscular from all the kneading and her hair was getting the odd silver strand amongst the blonde between running a business with such early hours, having a child and trying to restart her romantic life - before she spotted the dark bruising starting in the tops of her thighs and the curve of her breasts and the spots covered faintly still by make up on her neck. The proof that all those little bits, those little flaws and problem areas, and pieces that showed the history of her life in them, weren’t anything to be ashamed of.

Shaking her head, Jo quickly pulled on the next dress with a scowl of disgust at how washed out the color was compared to the deep jewel tone of the previous one, and the flacid ruffle along one side that made her want to tear it off. Some how this was almost as bad as the sparkly one.

When Jo got out onto the platform with the rest of the bridesmaids, she was not surprised to see both Anna and Lilith refusing to meet her eye before the redhead said loudly to the other, “Oh it’s such a shame some people look like old mothers rather than young bridesmaids.”

“It’s a shame some of us look like an episode of Botched,” Snapped Ruby with a smirk as she lifted her nails pretending to inspect them as a few of the other women frowned uncertainly. “But as I believe Jo said earlier, it’s about the bride right? So if someone’s tits are pointing in opposite directions then it’s probably very helpful for us all that we’re supposed to blend into the background, right?”

Jo bit down on a snort of laughter at that as she could spot a few of the crew trying to hold in their own noises. The fact there was no script today meant absolutely nothing to the ability for Gabe and his crew to get enough soundbites and drama for an episode. Glancing towards the reporter who was fiddling with his voice recorder, she could see the bemused look on his own face as well.

“Shada?” The uncertain question cut through the tension, and Ombre blinked sweetly a few times at her future sister-in-law before everyone turned back towards the dark haired bride. “What do you think?”

“Get rid of the tapeworm dresses, please, immediately!”

Jo found herself laughing hard at that description, and louder still when she shimmied the excess frill towards the bride and got a horrified squeal in return.

This time she wasn’t disturbed as she changed into the last dress. The sequined monstrosity that it was.

Shada didn’t even let half the women emerge from the change rooms before the call was made for everyone to put back on the deep purple mermaid dress with the off the shoulder cut. The one dress that made everyone look gorgeous and equally beautiful, though the way Jo could see the dark haired woman’s eyes cutting towards the redhead she could tell she wished it looked worse on her.

As they stood in line as they would on the day, Shada let out a loud and excited squeal - clapping her hands and bouncing happily on the sofa as she looked at the line of bridesmaids with joy. “We found it you guys!” The woman practically buzzed with excitement as they looked them all over and then got swamped by a giant hug from the youngest blonde who launched herself over for a hug. “We did it! Oh I have such pretty bridesmaids!”

“She using the right term? For you I mean.” Jo startled at the question from beside her as the other women milled about to try on accessories, looking out the corner of her eye at the reporter. His dictaphone was away at this point, as was his notepad, and Jo felt her cheeks heating up at the implication of the words before she got called away by Bela to try a necklace.

The rest of the day was a quick blur, and as soon as she was back in her normal clothes and wrapped up in the faint smell of aftershave, Jo felt much more comfortable as she got talked through how to do a brief interview for the show itself rather than the reporter, and then got to take Shada and Ombre for a late lunch at the sushi restaurant that the brunette never got to go to often any more. It was a relaxing time, with all three talking happily and confirming that Shada had chosen a beautiful dress that would compliment her own wedding dress when it was finally chosen too.

After lunch, Jo stopped by the bakery but was shooed straight out by Sam with the end of his broomstick and a lot of laughter. Instead of heading home, she swung past the college instead to check on Jack. That led to her sitting in on his last two lectures, staring moonily at him as she watched the passion with which he talked about his work and whipped his classes up into a frenzy of enthusiasm and appreciation for whatever topic he talked about. Then it was dinner, a movie on the couch and kisses in bed before sleep caught up with her.

The next day was equally calm in the morning, with the opening of the bakery as standard and her morning breezing by as if it was any regular day. It felt kind of strange to be back to her regular routine without her reporter shadow or anything out of the ordinary planned like shopping or photo shoots. It was quiet even as she bopped around to her tunes and worked on her usual catalogue of treats and baked goods. It felt good to be back to normal.

That changed as the clock hit one, and Jack arrived alongside his sister and Shada’s fiance Ian. Just after Jo had served up lunch of pithiviers, the door swung open to let in Chuck as well as Ash for their own lunches and bringing in a tray of coffees for the others. Jack’s attitude dipped slightly at the reporter’s arrival, but as the questions bounced about simply interviewing Ian and Shada about their feelings about Jo’s baking and why they had chosen to have Jo make their cake, he calmed some and slowly relaxed next to her as Jo rubbed her thigh against his under the bench.

As soon as lunch was finished, Jo fetched out the four different cake styles as well as the base crumb coated tiers to make a three tier mock-up of the cake itself based upon whichever design the couple chose.

It was a quick blur discussing what elements they each liked of all the cakes, and what they didn’t, but the silver dictaphone was out and Jo found herself talking more professionally than she usually would between friends but taking the time to really discuss at length the different elements. That Ian really liked the demonstrated fondant flowers but they both would be so intruiged to see some pulled sugar demonstrations as well. That Shada loved the understated, modern elegance of the airbrushed cake. That neither liked the ruffle effect of the ombre cake, even though Ian softened at hearing the name of the style and both thought it was a sweet connection to Ian’s sister but not quite their style. That they trusted Jack’s opinion on every single element.

As they finally settled on wanting to see a three tiered airbrushed cake, Jo set the fondant rolling for each cake and after wrapping and stacking the bottom two tiers - she held her airbrush out to the dark haired artist with a smile.

“You want to do the first spray?” She asked with a smile as she started wrapping the last of the cakes. “Or do you have any suggestions for the patterning?”

“Jo, I’d never suggest I could paint a cake near as good as you could.” Jack’s smile was blinding as he turned back to her as she started putting the last tier to the top with a steadying hand from him to help her when it was above her head. There was a pause before a sudden gust of air and edible dye splattered onto her cheek as Jack sprayed at her lightly on accident with a laugh. “See? I’m all thumbs!”

“That you are!” Giggling herself, she set about starting to do the same mottled effect of blacks, greys, golds and definite purples across the side of the cake - spinning it carefully left and right on the cake stand so she could create a gentle gradation that worked on both sides of the cake at once. So that no matter where you stood, you could see a gentle flow of color spreading along the while surface and swirling together. “Whatcha think, hun?”

There was a pause before Jo felt the other’s hand wrap around her fingers and lift the gun to point at one last spot. “A tiny bit there, and I think it’s good.” Jack’s lips were brushing against the shell of her ear as he talked, and she almost forgot hot to breathe when his finger pressed down on top of hers to pull the trigger for a moment before releasing again as the final, perfect brush stroke finished off the cake. The noise of the whole room had dropped away as she took a minute step back into his arms, her back to his chest and his other hand spreading across her waist, before a loud squeal broke the spell wrapped around her like her love’s arms.

“Oh my gosh, Jo! It’s absolutely perfect!”

The happy exclamation from the dark haired girl felt so good after the week of worry and stress trying to perfect the design and flavors and options for the other, and as Jo turned to look across the bench top from between the beautiful mocked up cake and the warmth of her lover’s embrace, she found herself grinning widely to see the same amount of love and excitement that she felt on the young couple’s faces as they looked between her cake and each other. Tilting her head back to catch Jack’s eye, she couldn’t help but think Shada had it utterly right.

Letting out a laugh, Jo smiled back and after a loud cough from the reporter, quickly moved to pose with both the bride and groom and the cake alone, before Chuck announced he had more than enough content for his cake article.

“I’ll see you all in a few weeks for - what was it, florals and bridal showers?” Chuck looked equally as confused as the other men in the room, shrugging his messenger bag with all his gadgets up onto his shoulder. “This article should be out by then, I think, depending on what date exactly you’re doing those parts Shada.”

“Not until after, I don’t think.” The brunette smiled gently from her perch on one of the stools, holding hands with her fiance and barely glancing away from him even as Ian was answering some email on his phone. “I loved the first article!”

“Oh yeah, that one was good.” The reporter nodded a few times, and shook hands with the distracted groom before extending a hand towards Jack as well. It took a second before the men shook hands, and Jo quickly jumped to her feet as Chuck went to leave.

“Wait! Take one of these with you, won’t you? I’ve got more cake than I’ll need for ages!” Jo flapped a hand and quickly fetched out a large cake box to slide the cake covered in the edible flowers into it for him. The ombre ruffled cake was boxed up already to be dropped off by Ian to his sister as a surprise, and Jo knew she’d use the other two as cake specials for the rest of the weekend. “I hope you like lemon.”

“You better believe it.” He looked surprised and a little uncertain to be receiving the full cake, and Jo was confused by the almost guilty look that crossed his face as Chuck took it from her with a sigh. There was a pause before he smiled again and waved goodbye with his free hand and headed back out to the main part of the bakery.

Frowning to herself, Jo moved back over to the three tier cake and grabbed a knife, holding it out to Shada and Ian. Looking between them and her own love, the blonde grinned with a wicked smile before asking cheekily, “You two need to get some practice in before the big night?”

---

#jopov #au stories #bakery AU

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doctorsiren · 7 months

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save data team has my favorite playthrough of the original trilogy and i think they just finished tgaa 2. one of them is an actual lawyer so there's always fun commentary on how they completely made up almost all of the legal stuff lol

Here’s another suggestion for that one anon :D

This reminds me of when I was telling my father (who is a civil defense attorney) about the legal system of Ace Attorney and he was like “?!?!?!??!?!”

We also live in California, and so the localized version taking place in Cali and having these crazy rules was even funnier

#doctorsiren #not art #siren speaks #I did mock trial all throughout high school #he was one of our coaches (specifically our pre-trial coach)#and so discussing legal stuff with him is v common #okay but why is it so funny to me that I called him my father instead of my dad like I normally would do???

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howwelldoyouknowyourmoon · 4 years

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“I see only a tiny version of myself, seated on the bare floor, encircled by darkness.” – Nansook Hong

▲ My mother, Gil Ja Yoo Hong, standing beside me. Our placards protest the incarceration of the Reverend Sun Myung Moon in Danbury Federal Penitentiary for tax evasion [and his assistant, Mr. Takeru Kamiyama, for document forgery, etc.].

________________________________________

From: In The Shadow Of The Moons: My Life In The Reverend Sun Myung Moon’s Family. Chapter 2 (page 33)

“My earliest memory is of a small, dark room at the end of a long, narrow hallway. If there are windows, I can’t see them in my mind’s eye. If there are furnishings, I can’t envision them. I see only a tiny version of myself, seated on the bare floor, encircled by darkness.

I am alone. The house is empty, but, curiously, I am not afraid. What I am feeling is closer to resignation, an odd emotion to associate with a little girl not much bigger than a toddler. But that’s what I felt even then, that my place in the world was fated and that my role in life was to endure.

I don’t know who I am waiting for — my brother to come home from school, a baby-sitter to come from church — but I do know who I do not expect to see coming down that long, narrow hallway. My mother was away for most of my childhood. I spent my earliest years missing her with a longing that was deep and unarticulated, a physical ache in the hollow center of my heart. Like my father, she was filled with the passion of a freshly minted religious convert. As the first disciples of the Reverend Sun Myung Moon, my parents saw it as their mission to spread the word that the Lord of the Second Advent had come and to recruit new, even more impassioned members for the fledgling Unification Church.

Children complicated that mission, even as our very existence was an expression of it. The Reverend Moon instructed the original thirty-six Blessed Couples to have as many children as possible in order to build the foundation of the True Family of God. He expected them simultaneously to travel throughout Korea, and eventually the world, preaching and “witnessing” on his behalf. The Reverend Moon taught his followers that God would take care of their children if his followers took care of him. The urgency of the Reverend Moon’s mission superseded the personal bond between mother and child.

It was my parents’ religious duty to bring us into the world, but from an early age I knew that their first responsibility was to the Reverend Moon, not to us. They fed us. They clothed us. They sheltered us. I know that they loved us. But the one thing that children most crave — their parents’ time and attention — ours could not give to us.

I was the second of seven children born to Gil-Ja Yoo and Sung-Pyo Hong within the first twelve years of their marriage. I was born on a bedroll on the floor of our maternal grandmother’s small house in Seoul. My grandmother had never forgiven her daughter for joining what she and most Koreans thought to be a crazy religious cult, but she never turned my mother away.

The church itself had no money to share, so the Reverend Moon sent his disciples across the country fortified with little more than their own fervor to survive. My parents did not travel together. To maximize their impact, the Reverend Moon ordered his disciples to spread out, to witness alone. My mother and father would set off in separate directions to Korea’s small towns and even smaller villages.

We would be left to the care of our grandmother, an assortment of aunts, or the women we called the sisters, unmarried church members who served the Reverend Moon by baby-sitting the children of married disciples. Once I had my own children, it was even more difficult for me to understand how my parents could have done this, could have abandoned their babies so completely to the care of others, often strangers. How was this a model of a perfect family?

I do know that my brothers and sisters and I were luckier than some children. Some of the Reverend Moon’s followers simply left their sons and daughters in orphanages in order to preach the word. A few never returned for them.

In 1965 the Reverend Moon described his ideal circumstances for the rearing of children: “We would like to see a boarding house for the children of our members, where some responsible persons could raise them and educate them at least for a few years. This would release you for your necessary witnessing. We have people in our group who are well qualified and willing to conduct such a boarding house and school. This is in the future when we have more money to support such a house and the children. It will be very good for the children, good for the parents, and very good for the movement. No one can enter the Kingdom of Heaven as an individual, but as a family.” He urged his early disciples, my parents among them, to “find people who have the wealth to help us finance such a school.”

Hard as it was for me to be separated from my mother, life was no easier for her. Travel was difficult. She would beg or borrow money for a train ticket, hitch a ride on a hay wagon, do whatever it took to bring the message of the new Messiah into the countryside. Her reward was often the hostility of her audience. Early members of the Unification Church were mocked and stoned, spit upon and jeered. Only occasionally were they heard.

My mother combatted the constant assault on her spirit with fervent prayer. While prayer replenished her soul, it did little for her belly, which was often swollen both with hunger and with child. She lived on rice and water, on the charity of farm women who would see her pregnant profile and take pity on her. I think of the ravenous appetite that marked my own pregnancies and I am amazed at the deprivation my mother suffered in silence.

Her days were long and repetitive. She would rent a room in a village house and spend her days preaching on street corners, her nights lecturing in nearly empty community halls. She had been shy as a girl, but she turned herself during those years into a powerful speaker. She never learned to enjoy the spotlight, but over time she conquered her fear and began to command attention when she spoke.

Poverty and separation were not my parents’ only hardship in the early years of their marriage. When I was still nursing at my mother’s breast, soldiers burst into the small room my family rented in Seoul. The soldiers ordered my father out of the house and, while my mother looked on in terror, marched him off to prison. My father’s crime was failing to register with the army. In Korea military service was compulsory for young men. He had not deliberately evaded his military duty, he told me later. He had been assured that an exemption had been arranged.

The soldiers did not tell my mother where they were taking my father that day. With me in her arms and my two-year-old brother, Jin, in tow, she walked from jail to jail, from police station to station all across Seoul until she found him. It never occurred to my mother to go directly to the Reverend Moon for help. He was too important a figure to bother with her personal problems, no matter how pressing. During my father’s absence, she struggled mightily to keep the three of us housed and fed.

Throughout it all, my parents never complained. They were doing the work of God. They considered their poverty ennobling. They accepted their tribulations as infinitesimal compared with the suffering that the Reverend Moon had endured in the formative years of the Unification Church: his imprisonments, his persecution at the hands of the godless Communists, his long march south. The story of Sun Myung Moon’s trials already had taken on the proportion of legend. By then, however, the Reverend Moon was living very well indeed, especially in contrast with his disciples.

The Moon family occupied spacious rooms above the church headquarters, which were located in one of Seoul’s better neighborhoods. They were supported by the labor of the Reverend Moon’s followers, who served him and his family at table, cared for his children, cleaned their house, and washed their clothes.

For most of my early childhood, we lived in a series of single rooms that we rented in houses in a Seoul slum known as Moontown. The name had nothing to do with the Reverend Moon or the Unification Church. The neighborhood was located on a treeless hillside high above the South Korean capital and, hence, closer to the moon. It was a ghetto of small, dilapidated houses packed closely together on narrow, winding streets. The houses were all the same — single-story structures heated by coal stoves. Every house was topped with a tiled roof and surrounded by a gated stone wall, the top of which was embedded with shards of broken glass to discourage the thieves who roamed the area. We lived in so many different rooms in Moontown that they blend together in my memory. I remember the outdoor steps of one house, where Jin and I played “family,” feeding our baby sister, Choong Sook, pebbles that she obediently licked until a church sister stopped us. I remember another house where we rented two rooms at opposite ends of a long corridor. A sister lived in one room with us children; my parents had a small room of their own. One day the couple who owned the house accused my parents of stealing coal. The sister became so upset at this assault on my parents’ honesty that she protested angrily to our landlords, who promptly tossed all of us into the street.

The room I remember best was the scene of my warmest memory of my father. It was a large room divided by a small chest of drawers. My mother had just given birth to her fifth child, my sister Chang Sook. One of my aunts had come to help out. We four older children slept with my aunt on bedrolls on one side of the chest; my parents slept with the new baby on a futon on the other.

Ours was the darker side of the room. I longed to sleep closer to my parents, closer to the light. As evening fell one night, I pretended to fall asleep on my parents’ side of the chest. I prayed they would let me stay, snuggled next to them for the night.

It was not to be. My father picked me up and carried me back to the dark side of the room. It was the most physical contact I remember having with him. I can still feel the ease with which he lifted me from the floor, the soft brush of his shirt against my cheek. I was so happy, having him hold me, that it took the sting out of my sadness at having to sleep so far away from him and my mother, so far away from the light.

That moment of intimacy is so vivid, I think, because such moments were so rare. Ours was a life of numbing routine and grinding poverty. What intimacy there was was the forced communal intimacy of the poor. There was no indoor plumbing in Moontown. We washed our faces and brushed our teeth at a public tap in an alley behind the house. We relieved ourselves in the festering latrines that served the entire neighborhood.

Trucks would patrol Moontown to drain the latrines but they never came often enough. I would delay a trip out back as long as I could. When I could wait no longer, I would hold my breath when I pushed open the door to the outhouse. The stench of human waste was overwhelming, even in the freezing months of winter. In the summer the flies were everywhere. If I took my fingers from my nose long enough to shoo them away, I would have to gag back the vomit in my throat. I would burst out of the latrine gasping for air.

Once a week my entire family would march down to the public bathhouse for a proper scrubbing. Each of us carried a small metal bucket, with our cake of soap, our shampoo, a towel, and a clean change of clothes. We would pay our coins and the boys would enter through one door, the girls through another. Inside were two large rooms, each equipped with enormous, steaming hot pools. I can still see the dozens of women and girls sitting side by side, our naked skin turning pink in the hot water. There were ladies employed by the bathhouse who would scrub the backs of our wealthier neighbors for a small fee. We would rinse off in the public showers and head home physically cleansed for another week.

We were children, and children have no sense of the economic scale of things. We did not think ourselves especially poor or deprived. We were, after all, no different from our neighbors to the left and to the right. We played paper dolls on the steps and jacks on the broken sidewalks. We chased each other through the congested streets on our way to even more congested classrooms. We fought and laughed in the same proportion as those better off than we.

What set us apart was not money but faith. From the start I knew that our religion made our family different, that being a member of the Unification Church was not like being a Presbyterian or a Buddhist. I did not talk about my faith except with my friends at church. I knew that others thought our beliefs odd, even dangerous. I was content not to call attention to my religion, but I was neither especially ashamed nor particularly proud of it as a young child. Except perhaps at Christmas. At Christmas I longed for our family to be like the families of my nonchurch friends.

Christmas trees and elaborate celebrations of the birth of Jesus were rare in Moontown because of the impoverishment that defined the neighborhood. But Santa Claus comes even to the poor in Seoul. He never came to our rented rooms. Every year I would go to sleep on Christmas Eve, secretly believing that this would be the year that Santa Claus would leave a small toy at the head of my bedroll, just as he did for all my friends. Every Christmas morning, I would choke back salty tears when I realized that, once again, he had not remembered me or my brothers and sisters.

It was not cruelty on my parents’ part. They were so busy working to establish the church, their minds and hearts were so focused on their mission for the Reverend Moon that, my mother now tells me, it never even crossed her mind to buy us Christmas gifts. We observed Christmas as a day to commit ourselves to the teachings of Jesus. Even though we were taught that Jesus had failed to complete the mission God intended for him, we were encouraged to acknowledge his many spiritual accomplishments by marking the day of his birth. The best way for adults to do that, according to the Reverend Moon, was to spend the day recruiting for the Unification Church.

We could not make Santa Claus come to our rooms, but we took our pleasure where we found it. My brother Jin used to walk the streets of Moontown searching the windows for the telltale blue glow that signaled the rare house with a television set. He would hope for an unlocked door and, on finding it so, tiptoe into the room where a family would be gathered around the TV. He would sometimes be able to watch an entire program before someone detected the stranger in their midst and chased him back into the street.

I was as admiring as I was shocked by my brother’s boldness. I could not imagine being so forward. Maybe because of all the time I spent alone when I was small, I was uncomfortable with people, even with my relatives. For a year, when I was four years old and Jin was six, we were sent two hundred miles away to live with my mother’s sister and her husband in Korea’s second-largest city, Busan. Our parents simply could not afford to feed and house their growing family. Our aunt and uncle were childless. They ran a small pharmacy and lived in a single room upstairs.

They were kind to us, but both Jin and I longed for home. There was a back room to the store, where I stayed and played alone while my aunt and uncle worked. I can still remember my happiness when Jin would join me there after he returned from school. We would sneak little treats, especially a health drink called Pakhasu, out of the store and into the back room to enjoy clandestinely, an act of subterfuge I would never have dared on my own.

My little sister Choong Sook had been sent at the same time to live with my maternal grandparents in their two-bedroom house in Seoul. My mother’s older brother was living there with his wife, too. They had no children themselves, and my aunt adored my little sister, treating her more like a daughter than a niece.

My mother later confessed that she regretted sending us all away for so long, that she wished she had found a way to keep her family together while she served the Reverend Moon. At the time, though, he was her priority, not us. It was not the last, or even the deepest, regret my parents would have about the sacrifices they expected their children to make in the name of Sun Myung Moon and his church.

As soon as I returned from Busan, my mother enrolled me in public school. I was only five, a full year younger than all of my classmates. After so much time alone, the sight of this noisy schoolhouse overflowing with rambunctious children filled me with terror. On as many mornings as not, I would refuse to go in. This strategy backfired, of course. A teacher would have to come and get me, calling all the more unwanted attention to me as I was dragged into the classroom.

There were as many as eighty children packed into every classroom of my elementary school. I was miserable, lost in the crowd, too shy to communicate even my most basic needs. I can still recall the cruel laughter of my classmates as a puddle of urine formed beneath my desk. I had been too scared to tell the teacher I needed to use the bathroom.

I was more at home in the church, which was central to our lives from the very beginning. In place of fairy tales at bedtime, our mother told us inspirational stories about the life of the Reverend Moon. We knew his biography better than we knew our own. Hanging photographs of the Reverend Moon and the True Family was one of our first rituals each time we rented a new room. That room would also have a shrine. In the center would be a picture of True Parents, surrounded by flowers and shimjung, or heart, candles. The candles were blessed by the Reverend Moon and believed to weaken Satan’s power.

Sunday is the day of worship in the Unification Church, although our day begins much earlier and lasts much longer than that of mainstream Christian sects. We rise before dawn to prepare for the Pledge Service, which begins at 5:00 a.m. Even the youngest children and babes in arms are expected to attend. Oh, how we hated to rise so early when we were small! The Pledge is also recited on the first day of each month and on church holidays.

Once we stumbled from our sleep, we would gather before the shrine. We would bow three times — to represent a bow to God, True Father, and True Mother — and then we would recite the words entitled ‘My Pledge.’ ... ”

Continue reading here: https://tragedyofthesixmarys.com/nansook-hong-shadow-moons-part-1/

________________________________

Nansook Hong interviewed on ‘60 minutes’ and two other interviews

Nansook Hong interviewed by Herbert Rosedale

Nansook Hong – The Dark Side of the Moons

#Nansook Hong #child abuse #child abandonment #Sun Myung Moon #Family Federation for World Peace and Unification #Unification Church

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jilyarchive · 5 years

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I love your page, I’m looking for some stories of either James or lily or both being famous or royal? I’m kind of obsessed and am looking for any new ones! Thanks so much

We do have tags for celebrity and royalty AUs, but here are quite a few we think we haven’t recommended before:

Title: All’s fair in love and warAuthor: uhohspagittiosRating: UnratedGenre(s): Royalty AUChapters: 2 [WIP]Word Count: 1,355Summary: Tension was rising within the four kingdoms. Ever since Riddle took the throne, death and destruction followed his every command. First it was Ravenclaw, then Hufflepuff. Meanwhile in Gyrffindor, King James is trying to prevent Riddle from turning his entire kingdom into ash but the question remains, how will he do it and will it work?

Title: Faint Hearts and Fair LadiesAuthor: thejilyshipRating: Teen and UpGenre(s): Royalty AU, RomanceChapters: 17Word Count: 141,663Summary: As the day turns to dusk, Sir Lupin heroically gets the royal family out of a castle under siege. Now the three royals and their knight find themselves running for their lives through the forest. James and Lily’s tenuous relationship will be tested, as secrets come out and emotions run high. But to protect their family and their people, they must come together to fight their enemy.

Title: Fighting FateAuthor: HestiaForeverRating: Teen and UpGenre(s): Modern AU, Muggle AU, Royalty AUChapters: 2 [WIP]Word Count: 7,617Summary: Lily Evans is intelligent, fiery, and determined. Her family lives in poverty, but after five years of studying all day and working in the afternoons, she finally scrunches together enough money to attend one of the most prestigious colleges in England– Hogwarts. But Lily finds that college isn’t what she imagined. She’s mocked for her poverty by the many of the nobles and elites that walk Hogwarts’ hallowed halls.

Duke James Potter is charming and mischievous. His family is one of the richest in England, and the few who don’t know the Potter name have still probably heard of James. He’s the most eligible bachelor in England and isn’t afraid to flaunt it. So when James goes to Hogwarts, he expects to just find a new air headed, boring fan club.

And he does. But he finds someone else, too. A red-haired, green-eyed, fiery revolutionary who isn’t anything like the woman his mother wants him to marry someday.The problem? She hates him.

But when Lily’s life is threatened by a clandestine organization, they are forced to work together or face the consequences.

Title: Deception and DisguiseAuthor: ClaudiaWritesRating: Teen and UpGenre(s): Muggle AU, Royalty AUChapters: 26Word Count: 96,263Summary: AU. In order to escape from her uncle, King Riddle, Princess Lily Catherine Evans flees from the royal palace. What happens when she makes acquaintances with the Marauders, the famous gang of bandits known throughout the kingdom? Will she be able to overcome her qualms and trust them with her true identity, or will it be too late?

Title: Love Me, ForevermoreAuthor: Eye_Greater_Than_ThreeRating: GGenre(s): AU, Royalty AUChapters: 1Word Count: 17,753Summary: For ChocolateWonder. While she was thinking about her future, Lily found herself falling in love with James Prongs over the Winter Holidays. The better she got to know him, the more Lily could tell James was hiding something. Nothing prepared her for the truth: his last name was Potter, not Prongs. James/Lily.

Title: The Tiara TrialsAuthor: ritaskeeteredRating: MGenre(s): Royalty AU, Muggle AUChapters: 2 [WIP]Word Count: 12,361Summary: Lily Evans was just a regular girl, living with her perfectly normal sister and soon to be brother-in-law. She went to a typically British college in the middle of London, wearing an orthodox school uniform and making standardised test after standardised test. There was nothing exceptional about her if you didn’t take her auburn hair into account.

Everything changed, however, when Minerva McGonagall arrived at her doorstep the day after her 18th birthday, announcing that – NEWS FLASH – Lily Evans is the Princess of the Isle of Gryffindor.

What is an 18-year-old girl to do but invest in her princess lessons when she receives the shock of a century? Not to mention, what is a princess to do if she fails spectacularly at this whole princess business, forcing the Isle of Gryffindor to become part of the Kingdom of Great Britain if she doesn’t get her act together in time? And leaving her kingdom in the hands of a certain Prince James of Britain? Over her ancestors’ dead bodies…

Title: Her KnightAuthor: SimplicityInADreamRating: GGenre(s): AU, Royalty AUChapters: 8 [WIP]Word Count: 16,501Summary: The difference between life and truly living, is love.

Title: Royal MistakeAuthor: PetalsToFishRating: Teen and UpGenre(s): Royalty AU, RomanceChapters: 1Word Count: 8,665Summary: Prince James soon learned that Lady Lily might look like a fairytale in her fancy ballgowns and red-painted lips, but she certainly danced better with a sword in her hand and a helmet on her head.

Title: After MoonAuthor: lovesickjilyRating: GGenre(s): AU, Royalty AU, Soulmate AUChapters: 1Word Count: 16,360Summary: When the universe sent Lily back in time for some inexplicable reason, she didn’t realise that she’d fall for the charming, messy-haired Prince along the way, nor did she realise that she’d see him once again.

Title: Around Thrones the Thunder RollsAuthor: owlways_and_foreverRating: Teen and UpGenre(s): AUChapters: 5 [WIP]Word Count: 15,335Summary: Lily Evans thought her life would be normal. Well, as normal as it can be for a muggle-born witch in England. But when her boyfriend turns out to be the prince of the wizarding world, and tensions begin to rise among factions of wizarding society, Lily must find her way in situations she never anticipated, and try not to lose sight of her identity.

Title: Behind the ScenesAuthor: lovesickjilyRating: Teen and UpGenre(s): Celebrity AU, Modern AU, Muggle AUChapters: 1Word Count: 11,324Summary: The first rule of being an actress was to never, under any circumstances, fall for a co-star. Lily Evans didn’t think that she’d have that problem, not with James Potter at that rate, but life seemed to have its surprises.

Title: James Potter Won’t Go QuietlyAuthor: la_plus_heureuseRating: UnratedGenre(s): AU, Celebrity AU, RomanceChapters: 1Word Count: 5,074Summary: Lily Evans remembers plenty about James Potter from Hogwarts. But an assignment from Mojo Magazine to profile the Quidditch star turned activist makes her realize what she remembered was all wrong. Jily, Wolfstar. Oneshot. Complete.

Title: ghost mortemAuthor: headstudentsRating: Teen and UpGenre(s): Muggle AU, Celebrity AUChapters: 1 [WIP]Word Count: 2,144Summary: James only needed three things to get himself arrested for murder: an ill-worded tweet, a pestering ghost from his past and all the best intentions to right the wrongs.

#fic request #celebrity au #royalty au #complete #wip #rated t #rated g #rated m #unrated

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bountyofbeads · 4 years

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This is a heartbreaking investigation into how Donald Trump's DISGUSTING 🤢, VILE, DESPICABLE, APPALLING, and DEPRAVED behavior is trickling down in our society and having REAL LIFE EFFECTS(including suicide) on our children and young people. The FISH ROTS from the HEAD. Melania it looks like your 'BE BEST' campaign isn't working out so well. Perhaps you should start by taking your husband's phone away and removing him from public view. PLEASE READ 📖 and SHARE this investigation. TY 🙏🏻🙏🏼🙏🏽🙏🏾🙏🏿

HOW THE BULLY-IN-CHIEF IS TURNING AMERICA NASTIER

By Paul Waldman | Published February 13 at 4:07 PM EST | Washington Post | Posted February 14, 2020 |

Sometimes we overestimate the degree to which a president can change a country, not just altering federal policy but also transforming our national life. But President Trump, there can be little doubt, will have as profound an effect on America as nearly any president in memory. The problem is that he’s doing it in all the worst ways.

As a new report from The Post demonstrates, across the country schools are reporting increased incidents of bullying and harassment directed at minority children in the time since Trump began running for office:

Since Trump’s rise to the nation’s highest office, his inflammatory language — often condemned as racist and xenophobic — has seeped into schools across America. Many bullies now target other children differently than they used to, with kids as young as 6 mimicking the president’s insults and the cruel way he delivers them.

It’s not all kids bullying kids — some of the cases involve teachers telling minority students that Trump will deport them or saying things such as “You’re getting kicked out of my country” (and there are also cases, though much smaller in number, of pro-Trump children being bullied).

Amazing what happens when you take the most repugnant human being in America and put him in the White House.

I exaggerate — but only a bit. I’m sure there are some Americans who are more morally despicable than Trump. Serial killers, for instance. But whether you like his administration’s policies, the president of the United States is a con man, a tax cheat, an accused sexual predator and the most prolific liar in the political history of Planet Earth, among other things.

But he might have been all that and not produced this kind of bullying. In fact, it was utterly predictable, because bullying is at the core of Trump’s being — and his political persona.

When he started running for president in 2015, Trump made clear that not only was he selling an agenda of xenophobia and racism, but he also wanted people to proclaim their hatreds loudly. “I’m so tired of this politically correct crap,” he said, and he wasn’t just talking about campus speech codes. He was angry at the foundational idea behind “political correctness,” that in our daily lives we should try to treat each other with respect.

The hell with that, Trump said. Every day he offered an instruction in the liberating power of being offensive. Not only shouldn’t you let a bunch of scolds tell you what kind of language to use, you should revel in the transgressive thrill of telling other people just what you think of them.

Trump plainly believes that if they see it to their advantage, people with more power should attack, victimize and humiliate those with less power. It’s something he’s known all his life, from when he was a young man being sued with his father for housing discrimination for refusing to rent apartments to black people, to when he was cheating struggling people out of their life savings, to when he refused to pay hundreds of small businesspeople what he owed them because they didn’t have the power to fight him.

In every case the logic was the same: He had more power than them, so he did what he wanted.

This is a man who mocked a reporter for his disability and who said women who accused him of sexual assault were too ugly for him to have victimized.

A different person might ascend to the most powerful position in the world and decide not to concern themselves anymore with petty squabbles. But if anything, Trump has accelerated his feuds, increasing the frequency with which he lashes out at those who are less powerful than him. Some are public figures who may be used to that sort of thing, but others are not.

One victim after another describes the disorienting feeling of being an ordinary person and realizing that the president of the United States is going after you. Just this week, Trump decided to attack the foreperson of the jury in the trial of his friend Roger Stone.

Imagine what it’s like to be her right now. You got the notice in the mail, went to do your civic duty, and now the president is insulting you on Twitter — with the inevitable threats and harassment from his supporters to follow.

And this is critical: Trump’s amen chorus celebrates him for his own bullying and the way he encourages others to be bullies. Recall the 2017 incident in which now-Rep. Greg Gianforte (R-Mont.) body-slammed a journalist to the floor. On Fox News they cheered the assault as “Montana justice,” and host Laura Ingraham tweeted, “Did anyone get his lunch money stolen today and then run to tell the recess monitor?” Trump later appeared at a rally with Gianforte and said, “Any guy that can do a body slam, he is my type!”

That’s the ethos of the Trump era: There are no more standards of morality or appropriate behavior or even simple politeness. There is only his power, and how you have to submit to it.

When Republicans impeached Bill Clinton for lying about an affair, they responded to the argument that it had nothing to do with his official duties by saying the president is a role model, so his behavior matters. They were wrong about a lot, but they were right about that.

The difference is that back then, nobody in Clinton’s party defended him for having an affair, let alone praised him for it. Today, Trump sends the message over and over that power and status should be used to punch down, mock, degrade and humiliate those you don’t like. And his legions of lickspittles laugh and cheer.

So it’s no wonder that Trump, who has the world’s biggest megaphone, has managed to spread his particular poison throughout the country, even to children. It would have a been a surprise if it didn’t happen.

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TRUMP’S WORDS, BULLIED KIDS,

SCARRED SCHOOLS .... THE PRESIDENT’S RHETORIC HAS CHANGED THE WAY HUNDREDS OF CHILDREN ARE HARASSED IN AMERICAN CLASSROOMS, The Post found

By Hannah Natanson, John Woodrow Cox and Perry Stein | Published Feb. 13, 2020 | Washington Post | Posted February 14, 2020 |

Two kindergartners in Utah told a Latino boy that President Trump would send him back to Mexico, and teenagers in Maine sneered "Ban Muslims" at a classmate wearing a hijab. In Tennessee, a group of middle- schoolers linked arms, imitating the president's proposed border wall as they refused to let nonwhite students pass. In Ohio, another group of middle-schoolers surrounded a mixed-race sixth-grader and, as she confided to her mother, told the girl: "This is Trump country."

Since Trump's rise to the nation’s highest office, his inflammatory language — often condemned as racist and xenophobic — has seeped into schools across America. Many bullies now target other children differently than they used to, with kids as young as 6 mimicking the president’s insults and the cruel way he delivers them.

Trump’s words, those chanted by his followers at campaign rallies and even his last name have been wielded by students and school staff members to harass children more than 300 times since the start of 2016, a Washington Post review of 28,000 news stories found. At least three-quarters of the attacks were directed at kids who are Hispanic, black or Muslim, according to the analysis. Students have also been victimized because they support the president — more than 45 times during the same period.

Although many hateful episodes garnered coverage just after the election, The Post found that Trump-connected persecution of children has never stopped. Even without the huge total from November 2016, an average of nearly two incidents per school week have been publicly reported over the past four years. Still, because so much of the bullying never appears in the news, The Post’s figure represents a small fraction of the actual total. It also doesn’t include the thousands of slurs, swastikas and racial epithets that aren’t directly linked to Trump but that the president’s detractors argue his behavior has exacerbated.

“It’s gotten way worse since Trump got elected,” said Ashanty Bonilla, 17, a Mexican American high school junior in Idaho who faced so much ridicule from classmates last year that she transferred. “They hear it. They think it’s okay. The president says it. . . . Why can’t they?”

Asked about Trump’s effect on student behavior, White House press secretary Stephanie Grisham noted that first lady Melania Trump — whose “Be Best” campaign denounces online harassment — had encouraged kids worldwide to treat one another with respect.

“She knows that bullying is a universal problem for children that will be difficult to stop in its entirety,” Grisham wrote in an email, “but Mrs. Trump will continue her work on behalf of the next generation despite the media’s appetite to blame her for actions and situations outside of her control.”

Most schools don’t track the Trump bullying phenomenon, and researchers didn’t ask about it in a federal survey of 6,100 students in 2017, the most recent year with available data. One in five of those children, ages 12 to 18, reported being bullied at school, a rate unchanged since the previous count in 2015.

However, a 2016 online survey of over 10,000 kindergarten through 12th-grade educators by the Southern Poverty Law Center found that more than 2,500 “described specific incidents of bigotry and harassment that can be directly traced to election rhetoric,” although the overwhelming majority never made the news. In 476 cases, offenders used the phrase “build the wall.” In 672, they mentioned deportation.

For Cielo Castor, who is Mexican American, the experience at Kamiakin High in Kennewick, Wash., was searing. The day after the election, a friend told Cielo, then a sophomore, that he was glad Trump won because Mexicans were stealing American jobs. A year later, when the president was mentioned during her American literature course, she said she didn't support him and a classmate who did refused to sit next to her.

“‘I don’t want to be around her,’ ” Cielo recalled him announcing as he opted for the floor instead.

Then, on “America night” at a football game in October 2018 during Cielo’s senior year, schoolmates in the student section unfurled a “Make America Great Again” flag. Led by the boy who wouldn’t sit beside Cielo, the teenagers began to chant: “Build — the — wall!”

Horrified, she confronted the instigator.

“You can’t be doing that,” Cielo told him.

He ignored her, she recalled, and the teenagers around him booed her. A cheerleading coach was the lone adult who tried to make them stop.

“I felt like I was personally attacked. And it wasn’t like they were attacking my character. They were attacking my ethnicity, and it’s not like I can do anything about that.”

— Cielo Castor

After a photo of the teenagers with the flag appeared on social media, news about what had happened infuriated many of the school’s Latinos, who made up about a quarter of the 1,700-member student body. Cielo, then 17, hoped school officials would address the tension. When they didn’t, she attended that Wednesday’s school board meeting.

“I don’t feel cared for,” she told the members, crying.

A day later, the superintendent consoled her and the principal asked how he could help, recalled Cielo, now a college freshman. Afterward, school staff members addressed every class, but Hispanic students were still so angry that they organized a walkout.

Some students heckled the protesters, waving MAGA caps at them. At the end of the day, Cielo left the school with a white friend who’d attended the protest; they passed an underclassman she didn’t know.

“Look,” the boy said, “it’s one of those f---ing Mexicans.”

She heard that school administrators — who declined to be interviewed for this article — suspended the teenager who had led the chant, but she doubts he has changed.

Reached on Instagram, the teenager refused to talk about what happened, writing in a message that he didn’t want to discuss the incident “because it is in the past and everyone has moved on from it.” At the end, he added a sign-off: “Trump 2020.”

ust as the president has repeatedly targeted Latinos, so, too, have school bullies. Of the incidents The Post tallied, half targeted Hispanics.

In one of the most extreme cases of abuse, a 13-year-old in New Jersey told a Mexican American schoolmate, who was 12, that “all Mexicans should go back behind the wall.” A day later, on June 19, 2019, the 13-year-old assaulted the boy and his mother, Beronica Ruiz, punching him and beating her unconscious, said the family’s attorney, Daniel Santiago. He wonders to what extent Trump’s repeated vilification of certain minorities played a role.

[ More than 300 Trump-inspired harassment incidents reported by news outlets from 2016-2019]

Anti-Hispanic: 45%

Anti-black: 23%

Anti-Semitic: 7%

Anti-Muslim: 8%

Anti-LGBT: 4%

Anti-Trump: 14%

[ **Note: Some incidents targeted multiple groups and, in other cases,

the ethnicity/gender/religion of the

intended target was unclear. Figures may not precisely add up because of rounding. Source: Washington Post analysis of media reports]

“When the president goes on TV and is saying things like Mexicans are rapists, Mexicans are criminals — these children don’t have the cognitive ability to say, ‘He’s just playing the role of a politician,’ ” Santiago argued. “The language that he’s using matters.”

Ruiz’s son, who is now seeing a therapist, continues to endure nightmares from an experience that may take years to overcome. But experts say that discriminatory language can, on its own, harm children, especially those of color who may already feel marginalized.

“It causes grave damage, as much physical as psychological,” said Elsa Barajas, who has counseled more than 1,000 children in her job at the Los Angeles Department of Mental Health.

As a result, she has seen Hispanic students suffer from sleeplessness, lose interest in school, and experience inexplicable stomach pain and headaches.

For Ashanty Bonilla, the damage began with the response to a single tweet she shared 10 months ago.

“Unpopular opinion,” Ashanty, then 16 and a sophomore at Lewiston High School in rural Idaho, wrote on April 9. “People who support Trump and go to Mexico for vacation really piss me off. Sorry not sorry.”

A schoolmate, who is white, took a screen shot of her tweet and posted it to Snapchat, along with a Confederate flag.

“Unpopular opinion but: people that are from Mexico and come in to America illegally or at all really piss me off,” he added in a message that spread rapidly among students.

The next morning, as Ashanty arrived at school, half a dozen boys, including the one who had written the message, stood nearby.

“You’re illegal. Go back to Mexico,” she heard one of them say. “F--- Mexicans.”

Ashanty, shaken but silent, walked past as a friend yelled at the boys to shut up.

In a 33,000-person town that is 94 percent white, Ashanty, whose father is half-black and whose mother is Mexican American, had always worked to fit in. She attended every football game and won a school spirit award as a freshman. She straightened her hair and dyed it blond, hoping to look more like her friends.

“It’s gotten way worse since Trump got elected. They hear it. They think it’s okay. The president says it. . . . Why can’t they?”

— Ashanty Bonilla

She had known those boys who’d heckled her since they were little. For her 15th birthday the year before, some had danced at her quinceañera.

A friend drove her off campus for lunch, but when they pulled back into the parking lot, Ashanty spotted people standing around her car. A rope had been tied from the back of the Honda Pilot to a pickup truck.

“Republican Trump 2020,” someone had written in the dust on her back window.

Hands trembling, Ashanty tried to untie the rope but couldn’t. She heard the laughing, sensed the cellphone cameras pointed at her. She began to weep.

Lewiston’s principal, Kevin Driskill, said he and his staff met with the boys they knew were involved, making clear that “we have zero tolerance for any kind of actions like that.” The incidents, he suspected, stemmed mostly from ignorance.

“Our lack of diversity probably comes with a lack of understanding,” Driskill said, but he added that he’s encouraged by the school district’s recent creation of a community group — following racist incidents on other campuses — meant to address those issues.

That effort came too late for Ashanty.

Some friends supported her, but others told her the boys were just joking. Don’t ruin their lives.

She seldom attended classes the last month of school. That summer, she started having migraines and panic attacks. In August, amid her spiraling despair, Ashanty swallowed 27 pills from a bottle of antidepressants. A helicopter rushed her to a hospital in Spokane, Wash., 100 miles away.

After that, she began seeing a therapist and, along with the friend who defended her, transferred to another school. Sometimes, she imagines how different life might be had she never written that tweet, but Ashanty tries not to blame herself and has learned to take more pride in her heritage. She just wishes the president understood the harm his words inflict.

Even Trump’s last name has become something of a slur to many children of color, whether they’ve heard it shouted at them in hallways or, in her case, seen it written on the back window of a car.

“It means,” she said, “you don’t belong.”

Three weeks into the 2018-19 school year, Miracle Slover's English teacher, she alleges, ordered black and Hispanic students to sit in the back of the classroom at their Fort Worth high school.

At the time, Miracle was a junior. Georgia Clark, her teacher at Amon Carter-Riverside, often brought up Trump, Miracle said. He was a good person, she told the class, because he wanted to build a wall.

“Every day was something new with immigration,” said Miracle, now 18, who has a black mother and a mixed-race father. “That Trump needs to take [immigrants] away. They do drugs, they bring drugs over here. They cause violence.”

Some students tried to film Clark, and others complained to administrators, but none of it made a difference, Miracle said. Clark, an employee of the Fort Worth system since 1998, kept talking.

Clark, who denies the teenager’s allegations, is one of more than 30 educators across the country accused of using the president’s name or rhetoric to harass students since he announced his candidacy, the Post analysis found.

In Clark’s class, Miracle stayed quiet until late spring 2019. That day, she walked in wearing her hair “puffy,” split into two high buns.

Clark, she said, told her it looked “nappy, like Marge off ‘The Simpsons.’ ” Unable to smother an angry reply, Miracle landed in the principal’s office. An administrator asked her to write a witness statement, and in it, she finally let go, scrawling her frustration across seven pages.

“I just got tired of it,” she said. “I wrote a ton.”

Still, Miracle said, school officials took no action until six weeks later, when Clark, 69, tweeted at Trump — in what she thought were private messages — requesting help deporting undocumented immigrants in Fort Worth schools. The posts went viral, drawing national condemnation. Clark was fired.

“Every day was something new with immigration. That Trump needs to take [immigrants] away. They do drugs, they bring drugs over here. They cause violence.”

— Miracle Slover, referring to Georgia Clark, her former English teacher

Not always, though, are offenders removed from the classroom.

The day after the 2016 election, Donnie Jones Jr.’s daughter was walking down a hallway at her Florida high school when, she says, a teacher warned her and two friends — all sophomores, all black — that Trump would “send you back to Africa.”

The district suspended the teacher for three days and transferred him to another school.

Just a few days later in California, a physical education teacher told a student that he would be deported under Trump. Two years ago in Maine, a substitute teacher referenced the president’s wall and promised a Lebanese American student, “You’re getting kicked out of my country.” More than a year later in Texas, a school employee flashed a coin bearing the word “ICE” at a Hispanic student. “Trump,” he said, “is working on a law where he can deport you.”

Sometimes, Jones said, he doesn’t recognize America.

“People now will say stuff that a couple of years ago they would not dare say,” Jones argued. He fears what his two youngest children, ages 11 and 9, might hear in their school hallways, especially if Trump is reelected.

Now a senior, Miracle doesn’t regret what she wrote about Clark. Although the furor that followed forced Miracle to switch schools and quit her beloved dance team, she would do it again, she said. Clark’s punishment, her public disgrace, was worth it.

About a week before Miracle’s 18th birthday, her mother checked Facebook to find a flurry of notifications. Friends were messaging to say that Clark had appealed her firing, and that the Texas education commissioner had intervened.

Reluctant to spoil the birthday, Jowona Powell waited several days to tell her daughter, who doesn’t use social media.

Citing a minor misstep in the school board’s firing process, the commissioner had ordered Carter-Riverside to pay Clark one year’s salary — or give the former teacher her job back.

[A snapshot of the harassment in 2019 ( SEE WEBSITE)]

In the three months after the president tweeted on July 14, 2019, that four minority congresswomen should "go back” to the countries they came from, more than a dozen incidents of Trump-related school bullying — including several that used his exact language — were reported in the press.

Jordyn Covington stood when she heard the jeers.

“Monkeys!” “You don’t belong here.” “Go back to where you came from!”

From atop the bleachers that day in October, Jordyn, 15, could see her Piper High School volleyball teammates on the court in tears. The sobbing varsity players were all black, all from Kansas City, Kan., like her.

Who was yelling? Jordyn wondered.

She peered at the students in the opposing section. Most of them were white.

“It was just sad,” said Jordyn, who plays for Piper’s junior varsity team. “And why? Why did it have to happen to us? We weren’t doing anything. We were simply playing volleyball.”

Go back? To where? Jordyn, her friends and Piper’s nine black players were all born in the United States. “Just like everyone else,” Jordyn said. “Just like white people.”

“It was just sad. And why? Why did it have to happen to us? We weren’t doing anything. We were simply playing volleyball.”

— Jordyn Covington

The game, played at an overwhelmingly white rural high school, came three months after Trump tweeted that four minority congresswomen should “go back” to the “totally broken and crime infested places from which they came.”

It was Jordyn’s first experience with racism, she said. But it was not the first time that fans at a school sports game had used the president to target students of color.

The Post found that players, parents or fans have used his name or words in at least 48 publicly reported cases, hurling hateful slogans at students competing in elementary, middle and high school games in 26 states.

The venom has been shouted on football gridirons and soccer fields, on basketball and volleyball courts. Nearly 90 percent of incidents identified by The Post targeted players and fans of color, or teams fielded by schools with large minority populations. More than half focused on Hispanics.

In one of the earliest examples, students at a Wisconsin high school soccer game in April 2016 chanted “Trump, build a wall!” at black and Hispanic players. A few months later, students at a high school basketball game in Missouri turned their backs and hoisted a Trump/Pence campaign sign as the majority-black opposing team walked onto the court. In 2017, two high school girls in Alabama showed up at a football game pep rally with a sign reading “Put the Panic back in Hispanic” and a “Trump Make America Great Again” banner.

In late 2017, two radio hosts announcing a high school basketball game in Iowa were caught on a hot mic describing Hispanic players as “español people.” “As Trump would say,” one broadcaster suggested, “go back where they came from.”

Both announcers were fired. After the volleyball incident in Kansas, though, the fallout was more muted. The opposing school district, Baldwin City, commissioned an investigation and subsequently asserted that there was “no evidence” of racist jeers. Administrators from Piper’s school system dismissed that claim and countered with a statement supporting their students.

An hour after the game, Jordyn fought to keep her eyes dry as she boarded the team bus home. When white players insisted that everything would be okay, she slipped in ear buds and selected “my mood playlist,” a collection of somber nighttime songs. She wiped her cheeks.

Jordyn had long ago concluded that Trump didn’t want her — or “anyone who is just not white” — in the United States. But hearing other students shout it was different.

Days later, her English teacher assigned an essay asking about “what’s right and what’s wrong.” At first, Jordyn thought she might write about the challenges transgender people face. Then she had another idea.

“The students were making fun of us because we were different, like our hair and skin tone,” Jordyn wrote. “How are you gonna be mad at me and my friends for being black. . . . I love myself and so should all of you.”

She read it aloud to the class. She finished, then looked up. Everyone began to applaud.

t's not just young Trump supporters who torment classmates because of who they are or what they believe. As one boy in North Carolina has come to understand, kids who oppose the president — kids like him — can be just as vicious.

By Gavin Trump’s estimation, nearly everyone at his middle school in Chapel Hill comes from a Democratic family. So when the kids insist on calling him by his last name — even after he demands that they stop — the 13-year-old knows they want to provoke him, by trying to link the boy to the president they despise.

In fifth grade, classmates would ask if he was related to the president, knowing he wasn’t. They would insinuate that Gavin agreed with the president on immigration and other polarizing issues.

“They saw my last name as Trump, and we all hate Trump, so it was like, ‘We all hate you,’ ” he said. “I was like, ‘Why are you teasing me? I have no relationship to Trump at all. We just ended up with the same last name.’ ”

Beyond kids like Gavin, the Post analysis also identified dozens of children across the country who were bullied, or even assaulted, because of their allegiance to the president.

School staff members in at least 18 states, from Washington to West Virginia, have picked on students for wearing Trump gear or voicing support for him. Among teenagers, the confrontations have at times turned physical. A high school student in Northern California said that after she celebrated the 2016 election results on social media, a classmate accused her of hating Mexicans and attacked her, leaving the girl with a bloodied nose. Last February, a teenager at an Oklahoma high school was caught on video ripping a Trump sign out of a student’s hands and knocking a red MAGA cap off his head.

And in the nation’s capital — where only 4 percent of voters cast ballots for Trump in 2016 — an outspoken conservative teenager said she had to leave her prestigious public school because she felt threatened.

In a YouTube video, Jayne Zirkle, a high school senior, said that the trouble started when classmates at the School Without Walls discovered an online photo of her campaigning for Trump. She said students circulated the photo, harassed her online and called her a white supremacist.

A D.C. school system official said they investigated the allegations and allowed Jayne to study from home to ensure she felt safe.

“A lot of people who I thought were my best friends just all of a sudden totally turned their backs on me,” Jayne said. “People wouldn’t even look at me or talk to me.”

For Gavin, the teasing began in fourth grade, soon after Trump announced his candidacy.

After more than a year of schoolyard taunts, Gavin decided to go by his mother’s last name, Mather, when he started middle school. The teenager has been proactive, requesting that teachers call him by the new name, but it gets trickier, and more stressful, when substitutes fill in. He didn’t legally change his last name, so “Trump” still appears on the roster.

The teasing has subsided, but the switch wasn’t easy. Gavin likes his real last name and feared that changing it would hurt his father’s feelings. His dad understood, but for Gavin, the guilt remains.

“This is my name,” he said. “And I am abandoning my name.”

Maritza Avalos knows what's coming. It's 2020. The next presidential election is nine months away. She remembers what happened during the last one, when she was just 11.

“Pack your bags,” kids told her. “You get a free trip to Mexico.”

She’s now a freshman at Kamiakin High, the same Washington state school where her older sister, Cielo, confronted the teenagers who chanted “Build the wall” at a football game in late 2018. Maritza, 14, assumes the taunts that accompanied Trump’s last campaign will intensify with this one, too.

“I try not to think about it,” she said, but for educators nationwide, the ongoing threat of politically charged harassment has been impossible to ignore.

In response, schools have canceled mock elections, banned political gear, trained teachers, increased security, formed student-led mediation groups and created committees to develop anti-discrimination policies.

In California, the staff at Riverside Polytechnic High School has been preparing for this year’s presidential election since the day after the last one. On Nov. 9, 2016, counselors held a workshop in the library for students to share their feelings. Trump supporters feared they would be singled out for their beliefs, while girls who had heard the president brag about sexually assaulting women worried that boys would be emboldened to do the same to them.

“We treated it almost like a crisis,” said Yuri Nava, a counselor who has since helped expand a student club devoted to improving the school’s culture and climate.

Riverside, which is 60 percent Hispanic, also offers three courses — African American, Chicano and ethnic studies — meant to help students better understand one another, Nava said. And instead of punishing students when they use race or politics to bully, counselors first try to bring them together with their victims to talk through what happened. Often, they leave as friends.

In Gambrills, Md., Arundel High School has taken a similar approach. Even before a student was caught scribbling the n-word in his notebook in early 2017, Gina Davenport, the principal, worried about the effect of the election’s rhetoric. At the school, where about half of the 2,200 students are minorities, she heard their concerns every day.

But the racist slur, discovered the same month as Trump’s inauguration, led to a concrete response.

A “Global Community Citizenship” class, now mandatory for all freshmen in the district, pushes students to explore their differences.

A recent lesson delved into Trump’s use of Twitter.

“The focus wasn’t Donald Trump, the focus was listening: How do we convey our ideas in order for someone to listen?” Davenport said. “We teach that we can disagree with each other without walking away being enemies — which we don’t see play out in the press, or in today’s political debates.”

Since the class debuted in fall 2017, disciplinary referrals for disruption and disrespect have decreased by 25 percent each school year, Davenport said. Membership in the school’s speech and debate team has doubled.

The course has eased Davenport’s anxiety heading into the next election. She doesn’t expect an uptick in racist bullying.

“Civil conversation,” she said. “The kids know what that means now.”

Many schools haven’t made such progress, and on those campuses, students are bracing for more abuse.

Maritza’s sister, Cielo, told her to stand up for herself if classmates use Trump’s words to harass her, but Maritza is quieter than her sibling. The freshman doesn’t like confrontation.

She knows, though, that eventually someone will say something — about the wall, maybe, or about how kids who look like her don’t belong in this country — and when that day comes, the girl hopes that she’ll be strong.

______

Julie Tate contributed to this report.

______

What is your school doing to stop politically charged bullying?

A Washington Post reporter may contact you with additional questions. We will not publish your name or what you submit below without first contacting you. We offer options to securely send information to our journalists using encrypted messaging services and email. To find out how, please go to website to fill out form.

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cloudynames · 5 years

Text

Locker Rooms

hello everyone!! how are you all doing?? im so glad to be updating after such a stressful week aha~ i hope i can get out another update quicker than this one. thank you all for waiting. this is my very very late present since it was johnny birthday a few days ago!! johnctzens how yall feelin?? hehe

Word Count: 6,492

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: Swearing

lets get it

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N City High, one of the most respectable schools in all of Seoul, was adorned in the middle of the bustling city. With daughters and sons of millionaires attending the pristine, three story building, all eyes from every social media outlet were focused on the high school. The most brilliant and athletic prodigies were born from this school, some people even being scouted for colleges before eleventh grade. To attend this school meant your future was secured. Everyone was rich and fell on different ends of the spectrum. Either people cared way too much or didn’t give a shit. Of course, why worry during in school when you’ll inherit your father’s business?

Unlike your counterparts, you cared about the mark you would leave upon the school. Perhaps you cared a bit too much. A bit detrimental to your health even. Your grades were spectacular, a child genius. However, with one blessing means one affliction.

You were dirt poor.

Yes, you were the poor kid at school and were the highlight of whispers. Tattered uniform and scuffed shoes screamed that you weren’t wealthy. People didn’t outwardly mock you but boy, did they stare. You could guess that you weren’t going to inherit your father’s business due to the fact that there was no business.

The principal noticed this with the unpaid bills and your parents rejecting each call from the security. He didn’t think you would become a problem child but as you didn’t turn in any checks to the front office, he become a bit troubled. With a bit of of devising, he formulated a plan to be replenished from all the missing dollars.

One rainy afternoon, a messenger knocked on the doorframe of your boisterous classroom, everyone watching as she handed the note to your teacher.

“(Y/N)! Main office, please.” Your teacher commanded without a second though, returning to play games on his laptop.

Dragging yourself up from your seat and making your way down to the front office, your mind scrambled for anything that could’ve happened. If they tell you one more time that you haven’t been paying the tuition, you were going to be pissed. It wasn’t news that you were struggling with tuition but the staff needed to bring that up to your parents, not yourself, a child. Hopefully they wouldn’t punish you like last time when they locked up your grades from being viewed and you had no clue as to what your grade was in each class. That would truly fuck up both your parents and yourself.

Plastering a fake smile on your face, you buzzed the front office to let your principal know you were waiting. A click sounds and the huge, wooden doors swing open.

“Hi, Mr. Kim.” You say sweetly, taking the seat with the least amount of rips from aggravated students beforehand. “What can I do for you?”

“Hello, (y/n)! I’m so glad you could come down right away. Let’s get straight down to business. Your tuition—“

Here we go.

Ears burning red, you glare into his eyes and reply in a snobby voice, “I cannot do anything about the tuition. I am a child who does not pay the bill. Please email or call my parents.” You’ve been preparing this response since you were called to the voice.

He returns the scowl with the same icy tone as yours. “Well, maybe if your parents would pick up the damn phone for once. Then, maybe we wouldn’t be having this conversation?”

Your hands gripped onto the chair handles tightly, knuckles turning white. How dare he offend your parents? This was escalating rapidly and you weren’t sure if you were going to leave the room still attending N City High.

“So what’s the point in requesting my presence? To mock me?” You bite back. There was no way you were going down without a fight. You’re not all bark.

His expression softens and he places a hand on his table, trying to give himself a calmer appearance. Having been in here so many times, by the furrow of his eyebrows showed his true emotions. He was furious.

“I have a compromise. We want to raise more school spirit and want a bigger crowd showing up at sporting events. The committee and I thought the best option would be a mascot. We would take off a large chunk of your tuition if you would accept this offer.”

Was he a fool? Sacrifice your integrity for a few dollars off of your tuition? Naive and stupid was this man. On the other hand, a few dollars off would make a grand difference to your family. Maybe your parents wouldn’t have to work overtime so often…

“How much is ‘a large chunk’?” If you play your cards right, you might be able to bargain off a larger amount. It was a dangerous game but a risk worth taking.

He rubs the back of his neck, not expecting this question. A pauses for a second then resumes, “All of it.”

Sacrificing your integrity was worth it.

Thus, you became the mascot for the school. Practice wasn’t surprisingly difficult. Working with the gymnastics coach soon got you to be pretty flexible and cheerful, even without showing your face to the crowd.

The mascot was an ugly, green monster looking-parrot. Being the first ever mascot of N City High meant it had only been used by you and you only, but it got disgusting real fast. Inside of the costume felt like it was a desert and you wouldn’t dare to take off the head during a game so instead you suffered immensely. From all the games built up, it soon smelled like sweat and a bad perfume you tried to use to mask the musk. Dreadful was the most appropriate word to describe your feelings but it was all to help your parents in the end.

Not exactly a perfect high school fairytale, huh? With grades and an abundant amount of time dedicated to cheering at sporting events, life became a drag and tiresome.

High school would be hell if it weren’t for Seo Johnny, a sweet, brown-eyed boy who was about as tall as a cyclops. He was the only thing you enjoyed about the hellhole. If he didn’t talk to you that day on a dare, who knows where either of you would be?

One afternoon during break during ninth year, a boy walked over to you and slammed a chocolate milk on your desk. Dazed, you looked up and saw Johnny glancing down at you, clearly embarrassed. Slowly, you grab the milk and puncturing a hole at the top, you ask, “Why did you give me a chocolate milk?”

He stares at you for for a few seconds and then whips his head around to the door. A group of boys were gathered, giggling and cracking jokes at seeing Johnny be so nervous. He glares daggers at them, making the group hide once more behind the wall. Sighing, he sits in the desk in front of you.

“My friends wanted me to talk to a girl on a dare. I’m sorry but I hope you take the chocolate milk as compensation. It’s really stupid, I know.” He confesses, playing with the ends of his blazer. Now that he’s up close, you notice more of his features. His hair was a deep, brown color but you could tell by scanning the roots that it was dyed. Johnny was the student who was always making jokes during class and him being so awkward had you giggling under your breath.

He raises his eyebrow, perplexed. Had he done something unintentionally funny?

“Well, I won’t take it as an insult since I know you’re a friendly guy. Just letting you know, I like strawberry milk better than chocolate.”

Once the next day rolled over, a strawberry milk was placed on your desk and from that moment, Johnny and you had been inseparable. History had been made and the future shined bright for the both of you.

You witnessed Johnny through all his trials in life. Dreadfully, you were there when he got his first girlfriend and comforted him throughout the night when she broke up with him. When Johnny had his first alcoholic drink ever, you drove him home while he threw up in your car. Cleaning up the mess was not how you wanted to spend your Friday night but since it was for Johnny, it had been worth it.

Flash forward to present time, you listened to Johnny whine while shoving the school’s newspaper in your face.

“(Y/N)! I’m just so curious. Who do you think they are?”

Rolling your eyes, you played with your pen, dissembling it and then fixing it. A downfall to being Johnny’s favorite friend was that you were the one taking the brunt force of his unhealthy obsession with the mascot. Johnny would spend more time creating theories for the mascot rather than study, much to your dismay. But, you didn’t mind too much. The way his eyes lit up while talking about something he liked ignited a flame of passion in your stomach. You would never tell him, but Johnny is really cute.

“Johnny, I really don’t know and I can’t force myself to care about.”

He pouts and huffs dramatically, wishing to receive a different answer from you. “Well, I think it’s Lucas. That kid has so much energy so embodying the mascot would fit him!”

Laughing nervously, you reply, “Have you seen how tall Lucas is? Definitely not. Our mascot is shorter.”

He smirks and teases lightly, “Oh, so now you want to contribute to the conversation?”

“Theory-crafting, actually. A conversation has more meat to it.” You fire back, pointing the pen at Johnny.

Johnny sighs, a sign of him giving up. “Hey, are you gonna go to the first volleyball game? I’ll be playing!”

You shoot him a sad grin and lie through your teeth, “I’m sorry, you know I need to study. And you know how strict my parents are.”

As a matter of fact, you needed to be at their first game tonight. The latter, however, was a lie. It was rare if you could catch any game without being in that stupid costume. Johnny would have to choke it out of you for a confession about your double identity. Seeing Johnny’s sorrowful expression, however, rips apart your heart. It sucked. You never had time off from being the mascot and never have time to cheer on Johnny as yourself, not the mascot.

“You never even study though!” He complains, flailing his hands and legs around dangerously. Johnny seriously has to consider how big he is in retrospect of the world. He might hit you one of these days and he would have to experience true pain from you.

“Oh yeah? Who set up the principle foundation of atoms in Ancient Greek?”

Johnny remains silent until he finally answers, “Hades?”

“Oh my god.” You mutter, rubbing your temples. “You’re mixing up physics and literature!”

Johnny laughs and soon has you laughing as well.

As long as Johnny never finds out your dirty, this friendship will last even with all the tribulations.

Later that night, you hyped yourself up behind the bleachers while avoiding the moldy food and pair of panties the janitor hasn’t cleaned up yet. Despite cheering for three years, every game worried you. People paid attention, too much attention, to you. It’ll be plastered all over social media if it seemed like everyone’s favorite, lovable mascot was feeling less energetic than usual. Anything could happen, even if you’re one of the best schools. A reverse sweep might ensure and you’ll need to be ready to boost the crowd’s morality. To be prepared for anything gives your school the upperhand. Keeping a steady flow of your tuition being paid was also a plus.

The obnoxious buzzer rings and you take one final, deep breath before running onto the court. You waved wildly at your school’s crowd, sending kisses and hearts to everyone. A few of the girls mocked you, fanning themselves off. You shrugged off the mockery, not insulted at all. As long as they were enjoying the show then they’ll be cheering the entire night. Getting into position, you started your signature dance. Rallies grew in volume as you ended perfectly and skipped back to the sidelines, watching the volleyball game start. Huffing laboriously in your suit, your eyes scanned for Johnny.

Adorned in his neon green jersey and shorts, he displayed his number to the referee. While turned around, he glanced at you, giving you a quick wink before groaning loudly. Seems like they lost the coin flip.

Still, that little shit winked at you!

The referee blows the whistle and the opposing team lobs over the volleyball, a float serve. Fortunately, your setter dives just in time to launch the ball into the air..

“Setter out!” He yells, backing away to let his team handle the ball.

Their middle back steps to the ball and numerous voices yell out different numbers. He ends up setting the ball to the middle of the net, position four. Johnny, their ace and middle blocker, starts his approach and slams the ball, a loud smack following the ball as it slammed onto the floor.

From the sidelines, you jump up and rile the crowd. If Johnny can keep this up, the team would win in no time.

The opposing team never got past ten points causing your team’s supporters to mock and provoke their supporters. Crowd control was enforced, but nobody listened. The night ended in a victory, everyone rushing out of the bleachers to fire up the volleyball team on their first win. Silently, you snuck out and made your way to the locker room.

Locking the room behind you, you removed yourself from the suit. Sweat stuck to your skin as you gazed at your reflection. Another mindless, boring night. At least Johnny was entrilled about their first win. Whenever you saw his delighted face, it seemed like you could breathe a little easier and could keep cheering for a while longer, even if it tired you out greatly.

Slipping on your casual clothes, you escaped through the back and drove home, never thinking about the game.

If only you could support Johnny in public, you wishfully thought. It would help your situation immensely. You would shower him in heartfelt compliments, praising him on how well he did during the game. Due to your own pride, you could never tell him. Maybe one day if you get over yourself but you didn’t feel like making yourself both the poor kid and the weirdo of the school. Especially being the best friend of one of the most popular guys at the school. You would be destroying yourself and him.

‘Sorry, Johnny.’ You think while adjusting the mirror. ‘I’ll cheer you on proudly in the future. I promise.’

Some promises were never made to be kept. Some promises are created just for the moment.

To make up for missing Johnny’s first game, you showed up to his practice the next day. There were no scheduled games you had to cheer for so everything was working out well.

For now.

Johnny kept staring at you throughout the practice, waving at you or making a fool of himself with silly faces. Giggling to yourself, you worked on some homework and studied a bit as well. Might as well get something out of this practice while waiting for Johnny to finish up.

The slam of the gym doors disturbs you, promptly shutting your book in shock. Two boys stumble in, laughing boisterously and greeting everyone on the volleyball team. Clearly this was a daily occurrence as you take notice how their coach doesn’t even move to repremiend the boys. Speaking of the boys, they head over exactly to where you were seated on the bleachers and panic builds up within you. There wasn’t anywhere to go especially since it’ll look rude if you fled the situation. You really didn’t feel like interacting with anyone though. Time to suck it up.

“Hey, (y/n)! That’s your name, right?” One of them greets, a boy with neat light-caramel hair greets.

Shyly smiling, “Yes, that’s my name. And you might be…?”

“Yuta! And this is Taeyong, we’re friends with Johnny.”

With Johnny’s name reverberating in the air, your anxiety subsides. If they’re close friends with Johnny, close enough to come to his practice, then they’re most likely decent people. Johnny wasn’t one to make terrible friends.

“Ah, that’s great!” You genuinely exclaim.

“We told Johnny we would be here to support him but honestly we’re both here for Winwin.” Yuta confesses, setting his lacrosse gear sprawled out along the bleachers. You nervously chuckled in response. Who the hell was Winwin?

“I’m only here because Winwin promised to help quiz me on World History.” Taeyong grumbled, watching the fake match intently.

Slowly, the three of you slipped into a comfortable conversation. It was relaxing and refreshing. Usually, Johnny would make conversation with you but the two boys were great fillers. They listened carefully as you told them stories and understood your humor as well. Occasionally, you threw a glance to Johnny and he caught your eye every time but quickly turning his head away every time. What got into him? Soon the practice was over and after their final cheer, Johnny ran up to you, sweatier than a sumo wrestler. His hands tried to grab you in an embrace while you squealed.

“Don’t touch me!” You yelp, running behind Taeyong. Taeyong groans as he attempts to push you towards Johnny, not willing to deal with your shenanigans.

Johnny chuckles. “Well, all three of you got pretty friendly, huh?”

Yuta strolls up to you and throws an arm around your shoulder, smirking and with a teasing tone, “Yes, we did actually. (Y/N) should just confess her undying love to me already.” At this point, Winwin also arrived to the scene, stifling a giggle behind his hand. Turns out Winwin was their setter.

You fake gag, not missing a beat when you notice how Johnny’s cheeks flare up. Either in jealousy or embarrassment, you couldn’t tell. Johnny was a master when it came to hiding his feelings.

“Well, why don’t we all go get some boba to celebrate this friendship?” Johnny says, giving a bright grin to everyone. Yuta whoops in delight while Taeyong and Winwin are already halfway out the door.

Now, this would be exciting.

A few weeks into spring had you doubled over in laughter and a constant heat left on your cheeks. Taeyong and Yuta were hilarious to say the least. Surprisingly, they weren’t snobby jerks like most the people at your school. Both of them had a heart of gold towards anyone. They helped cured that springtime sadness that came around every year due to Johnny being at practice more often. Without thinking of Johnny much, there was no room to feel blue. You occasionally missed his presence but Taeyong, Yuta, and Winwin made sure you weren’t too down.

It soon become routine that if you didn’t have to cheer that day, the three of you would head down to the gym and watch volleyball practice. Yuta and Taeyong didn’t know your secret and every time you would be questioned about why you couldn’t join them, you would shrug in response and respond with, ‘my parents don’t want me going out every day!’ They immediately shut up every time.

Today the boys were especially talkative, topics ranging from school to hobbies to love like rapidfire. Barely being able to hang onto the conversation, your mind drifted to the volleyball court. Johnny was breathing heavily, wiping away the sweat on his forehead. He glances at you and turns away, talking to a team member.

Frowning, you look down. Johnny never gapes at you and doesn’t wave immediately afterwards. Maybe you were reading too much into it, but your heart still spiderwebbed into tiny cracks. Johnny, the sweetest boy you knew, was ignoring you. The more time spent into analyzing his recent actions, the more you became worried. Johnny has been acting strangely around you recently.

During class you would slide notes to him and he would just leave them upon his desk, focused on copying the notes that had been left up previously for the past ten minutes. Johnny was anything but slow. You tried texting him later that day, the only response being left was a ‘Read at 4:57 P.M.’

Throwing your head back, you inaudibly groan. How could you be so stupid? Johnny hasn’t been himself for a while. Perhaps the title of best friend should be ripped from you since you can’t even recognize when Johnny was acting strangely. What could it be? Did someone hurt him? Was he sad? Your thoughts were slowly spiralling out of control, not realizing that practice was officially over.

“(Y/N), you good?” Johnny asks, carrying his schoolbag and his volleyball bag.

Knocked out of your haze, you nod, laughing awkwardly. When was the last time you felt awkward around Johnny?

He nods as well, halfway out the gym doors when you yell.

“Johnny! Let’s go get some ice cream. Without the boys.”

Johnny and you were close. There has never been a dull, awkward moment between the two of you. Sharing the sidewalk and quietly eating your ice cream has never made you want to crawl into a hole and die until now. Johnny barely spoke on your walk, only commenting on how he got extra sprinkles than usual. Silence suffocated the air and the smell of Johnny’s fading cologne has your chest tightening uncomfortably. Every other time you had been with Johnny, this scent has comforted you. But at this current moment, you wanted nothing more than to push him away.

“(Y/N)?” He asks, cutting the silence like a knife. “A-Ah, yeah Johnny?”

“Do you like Yuta or Taeyong?”

Your heart drops. Is this was he was so dejected over? If so, it was a foolish reason. As best friends, you made sure to tell each other everything, no matter how small. The two of you shared what you had for breakfast or the latest gossip you overheard your mom explaining so for him to accuse you of breaking such a precious promise hurt. It was childish, but it was your thing. Johnny and you both owned it. It was nobody else’s except yours. That’s what being best friends meant.

Your feet stopped and your chest filled with sick, dense, air as your teeth grit together tightly. How uncalled for.

“Really Johnny?”

His brows furrowed and he says accusingly, “What?”

You laugh mockingly, shaking your head and staring into Johnny’s brown eyes, “You really don’t know.”

With a flushed face, Johnny raises his voice. “What do you mean?”

This was an ugly site. On the sidewalk in the middle of the evening were two teenagers yelling at each other. Neither would give in and forget what had happened. If a passerby witnessed this, they probably would walk hurriedly along, not wanting to see the outcome.

“I’ve been your best friend since ninth year. I would never hide something like that!” You yell, frustrated. Johnny was an idiot at times, especially when it came to people. He could never recognize the emotions of others and how his words may possibly hurt them. Anger erupts in your chest, leaving you with hot insults dancing on your tongue. For him to think that you would betray him so easily cut you and left you with a nasty scar.

“You say that when you lie about how you always need to study and that your parents aren’t strict. I’ve met them, (y/n). They let you practically do whatever the hell you want!” He accuses, any regard for causing a public commotion vanishing.

He was right. You were lying about your situation. Why? Johnny would accept you either way, mascot or not. Is it because it’s embarrassing? A friendship built upon lies and lies? Would he stop being your friend?

Yes, that’s what scared you the most. Would Johnny, the popular, beloved Johnny, still want to be friends with the dirt poor (y/n)? Foolish was Johnny’s middle name. He would sacrifice his good name and reputation for you. You couldn’t stand to see him fall from such grace to land where you remain. Selfless, a cruel form of selfless, was your middle name.

“You know what? Forget it.”

Johnny’s sharp voice snapped you out of his trance and he turned sharply, walking away from you. His shoulders shook and his head was down. You knew he was crying. He is such a crybaby.

No tears stained your face that walk home or that night. The only stain that remained was the sticky, vanilla bean ice cream left on your hand when you crushed it out of despair.

Oh, how it resembled your heart all too well.

———————--------------

“Why are you so mopey?” Yuta voices, sitting down at your desk as Winwin sits adjacent to you, pretending to read his textbook but is really engrossed within your conversation.

“Don’t want to talk about it.” You mumble, hiding your face in your desk and rubbing at your eyes relentlessly. Although you didn’t cry, you stayed up all night regretting your fight with Johnny.

A hand taps you on your shoulder and you see Taeyong with a chocolate milk. Your heart hammers within your chest and you think back to Johnny and how you would share a milk almost every day.

He would know to get you strawberry milk.

Tears welled up in your eyes and your lip quivered seeing the carton. This scene was all too familiar. Yuta quickly rushed to shush you as Winwin waved his hands in front of your eyes to keep tears from falling.

After calming you down promptly, Taeyong begins, “Why don’t you just talk to him?”

It was dangerous threading these waters. How could you work your way around it without saying, ‘by the way, I’m the mascot, the embarrassment to our school!’ If it were that simple, you wouldn’t have almost cried in front of the boys!

“I can’t…” You whisper, dejected and wishing to drift to a different plane of existence. “It’s too difficult to explain what’s going on.” You trail off, hoping they wouldn’t push the subject but understand your point.

They seemed to understand, nodding pitfully as Taeyong rubbed your back. What you didn’t realize was Johnny saw you when he peeped his head in your classroom. Biting his tongue harshly, he almost ran to his classroom and sat down in a huff, face flushed red with rage. He knew his outburst yesterday was uncalled for but seeing you so close to your recent found friends made his blood boil.

It was no secret that Johnny had a huge crush on you. Anyone with eyes and a brain could tell. How could anyone not be in love with you? A distant night in freshman year confirmed his undying passion for you. There was nothing special about that night but your smile and laugh had his temperature rising and his hands shaking. It certainly didn’t go unnoticed by others either. So why were those three boys acting so close to you? It provoked Johnny deeply and his emotions haven’t been in check because of lingering touches between you and everyone else. Being a teenager is hard, especially when you can’t recognize the line between friend and lover.

Johnny desperately wanted to cross that line and for everyone else to stay far away from that line.

A hand clamped down on Johnny’s broad shoulder and he jolted straight up, ready to yell at whoever disturbed him. An ugly scowl was plastered onto his face.

“Johnny!” The boy was from his volleyball team, smiling brightly but soon fading into a straight line. “What’s wrong?”

Johnny fakes a grin, “Nothing! What do you need?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “Ah, well now that you ask, I forgot.”

Is he lying because he saw Johnny pissed? Can Johnny even be that scary?

“It’s okay! Just tell me when you remember.” Johnny reassures, turning back to his desk.

“W-Wait!” the boy stumbles, looking for the right words, “the volleyball team created a plan recently for the last volleyball game of the season to celebrate…”

This peaked Johnny’s interest. “What’s your plan?”

Mark was sweating buckets, tense that Johnny might reject the team’s plan. Everyone was going to be pissed at him if Johnny rejects the plan. Plus, he would have to buy dinner for the week for everyone.

“We wanted to reveal who our school mascot might be…”

Johnny quirked his eyebrow up, interested. A small grin broke on his face and his little obsession with the mascot was fully on display. Two of his desires would be fulfilled. One, he would finally know who the mascot was, something that has been irking him since ninth year. Next, he might get new recruitments for next year’s team! Nothing negative could come from this.

“Let’s do it!” He confirms and Mark lets out a long-held breath. Mark bids goodbye and dashes out of the classroom, glad to be out of such a tricky situation.

For a short moment, Johnny forgot about how upset he was about you. Looking outside, he analyzed how the flowers bloomed slowly. He would love to show you right now.

Unfortunately, it appeared that both of you were on different sides of a flower. Not everything in life is supposed to be easy.

——————-------------------

Huffing and puffing behind the bleachers, you sat down for a moment to catch your breath. Usually you wouldn’t be so out of shape but due to emotional eating and lack of sleep because of Johnny, your physical state was lacking. It was the last game of the season and it had to be your best game yet. You couldn’t bare to let Johnny down again, even if he doesn’t know it’s you. As it was the last home game as well, you needed to make the night special.

The buzzer, loud and alarming, warns the teams that it’s soon time to play. You come jogging out onto the court, waving at the huge crowd. With the last home game of the volleyball season, a majority of the school showed up. Waiting for the cue of music, you got into position. After a few tricks and turns, the crowd erupts into joyful yelling as each team runs onto the court, wishing the other good luck.

You sat by the bleachers and distinctly you could hear the whispers of your classmates around you. Jerking your head around, all you see is the crowd smiling at you and praising you. Jumping around as a way to say, ‘thanks!,’ you turn back to the game. People were definitely plotting something, but what? Is there going to be a huge prom proposal tonight? Or maybe another party? Whatever the reason may be, it caught your attention greatly. You didn’t even realize when the opposing team called a timeout.

Starting the cheer to mock the opposing team, your school stomps on the bleachers and yells, “TO!”

A flash of a figure makes you step back and you see a mop of brown hair flying and a boy excitedly jumping up and down. Johnny urges the crowd to scream louder and louder as one of the teachers supervising the game shouted for them to shut up. Obviously no one paid attention as both Johnny and you were riling up the crowd. You didn’t dare miss the glint in Johnny’s eye in that moment you saw him staring.

With the timeout finished, Johnny runs back to his team and resumes the game. You watched intently as a rally began, neither side giving up. This game was surprisingly close and N City High looked as fierce than ever. The opposing team has been rivals with your school for years in athletics. If they didn’t win tonight, the entire volleyball team would be the joke of the school until another team loses in some sport. Quietly praying to any gods above, you hoped that wouldn’t happen to them. Johnny had worked so hard to build up his team; you couldn’t bear to see it all come crashing down.

Finally the score was 24-24. The game was neck-to-neck and people looked more stressed than usually. A surprise tip came from Winwin and had the crowd soaring and roaring out of their seats. The ball was rolled under the net to a giant, confident boy who strode up to the line with confidence. His arm extended fully and whacked the ball hard, barely passing the net and almost being out of boundaries. Luck was on his side as the score changed from 25-24 to 26-24.

N City High has done it.

The band breaks out into a cheery tune as the fight song echoes throughout the gym. You merrily clap your hands along and head to the center of the floor, giggling inside the big, mascot head. It was infectious seeing everyone so joyous.

Suddenly, you’re lifted up into the air and multiple hands are on the outside of the bodysuit. Panic sets in your stomach and you thrash around, trying to shake off whoever has grabbed you. A few yelps of pain were expressed and soon you were set back on the ground roughly, falling to your knees. Crawling away shakily, you’re jerked back by the hands of someone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, to celebrate our win, we will show everyone who our esteemed mascot may be!”

A sharp light fills your view and the mesh that surrounded your eyes from the mascot head disappears. Your eyes take a moment to adjust but soon you see the gasping faces of your classmates around you along with the horrified face of Johnny, holding the head of the stupid, ugly parrot. Its face was mocking you silently with uplifted eyebrows and knitted pink patches of blush.

Not even giving yourself a second to think, you bolt out of the gym, charging straight to the locker room. With choked sobs, you slammed the door and ripped off the rest of the outfit.

How fucking humiliating.

You have embarrassed yourself more times than you would like to admit but never on a level as extreme as this. Slipping on the black hoodie you arrived in, you caught a glimpse of your distraught face in the grimy mirror and immediately let out a whimper, sliding down to the floor and taking a moment to yourself.

You couldn’t leave. There was no way anyone would let you leave without questioning you. A cry escapes your lips and you slam your hand to your mouth, biting on the flesh until the taste of blood coats your mouth. It was embarrassing for your identity to be exposed. But by your best friend? That’s on a whole new level.

The door swings open abruptly and your head is filled with flight instincts. You rush over to the bathroom, locking the stall and listening to the loud footsteps.

“(Y/N)?” A sugary, honey voice presses, footsteps becoming closer.

“What are you doing in here, this is a girl’s bathroom!” You spit out, outraged at the offender.

Johnny sighs and you hear and feel a small ‘thump’ on the door of the stall.

“Can we talk?”

“We are.” You promptly respond.

“I meant face to face…” Johnny corrects.

You soundlessly unlocked the door and swung it open, not caring if you hit Johnny or not. Dejected, you stare at the floor in silence, waiting for him to start the conversation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You laugh, not sure if it’s a taunt or out of pure shock. “Why? Because it's embarrassing as hell. Nobody wants to be friends with the fucking school mascot.”

“Are you stupid?” Johnny replies and you feel the space around you grow a million times hotter. He steps closer to you and with a firm hand grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Do you know how much I don’t care? I’ve been obsessed with that mascot for so long because I wanted to befriend them. To think you thought of me so lowly hurts.” Tears well up in your eyes and you tear your gaze from him, stepping back. “Obviously. So what do you want? To make fun of me? Say your goodbyes?”

He scoffs and engulfs you in a hug, his cologne invading your senses. You instantly relax and wrap your own arms around his waist. After such a terrible week, having Johnny all to yourself comforted you immensely.

“You know I don’t care about reputation.” “I know.” You sob, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” You were a fool. Johnny was one of the most kind, careless people in your life. If anyone wasn’t going to judge you, it would be him. Johnny sighs, “I should be saying that. I’m sorry I was so stubborn and thought you were hiding secrets about your love interests. And that I also accidently revealed who you were to the entire school. I’ll beat up anyone who bullies you.” He jokes. Your heart was finally mending after all these troublesome days. A small smile graced your face as your tore yourself away from Johnny’s shoulder. “I’m glad I finally have my best friend back.”

With a sharp inhale, that mischievous glint reappears once more. “Can I change that?” Your confused look was wiped off instantly as Johnny smashed his lips against yours, his hands trailing to the small of your back. A gasp escapes your lips and Johnny sees it as an invitation to explore your mouth. Your hands make their way up to his neck and arms, not sure where to place themselves. You’ve fantasized over making out with Johnny hundreds of times but now that it’s happening, where did you put your hands all those times?

He pulls away slowly, nibbling on your bottom lip as he does. Your hair is all tousled and eyes wide as Johnny takes in your appearance. He chuckles and leans down again, stealing another kiss but putting more passion than lust into it.

“Sorry,” he whispers, kissing at your neck. “I didn’t mean for our first kiss to be in the locker room.”

“It’s fine. It’s pretty hot if you ask me.”

Laughter ruins the once serious atmosphere as Johnny and you were both cackling at the hilarious situation.

Becoming the school’s mascot was the worst deal you’ve ever made with that scoundrel of a principal.

However, earning Johnny and a few new friends for a lifetime was something you would never trade back in, no matter what reputation you held.

#nct #nct 2019 #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct imagine #nct headcanon #nct seo johnny #nct seo youngho #seo johnny #writing #kpop

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