#finally had the courage to post after the stupid mistake I did several days before 🙈🙈🙈 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gatheringbones · 3 years

Text

["At the end of August in 1981, I found myself in a small town in Arkansas, where I knew no Lesbians other than my new lover, Lynn. I wanted it that way. We were living in hiding from my armed and vengeful ex-lover who had abused me for four years and had threatened both of us with deadly harm. This was five years before the publication of Kerry Lobel's ground-breaking book, Naming the Violence: Speaking Out About Lesbian Battering. I knew I had been battered, but I did not understand how deeply I had been injured.

I only knew that I seemed to have saved my life at the cost of my sanity. I jumped at loud and not-so-loud noises. A frown from a stranger could reduce me to tears. I was afraid to bathe if I was alone in the apartment. I relived every word of every fight in relentless flashbacks. I had blocked much of the unbearable pain of the previous four years out of my consciousness at the time, in order to cope with immediate danger. Now that I was "safe" it all came flooding back. To escape, I watched TV compulsively, avoiding anything violent—nature shows were my favorites—and I read science fiction. Having lost faith in women as well as men, I was a serious candidate for a species-change operation.

Luckily, at some point in that bleak winter, I read a magazine article on Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) in Vietnam Vets, and I recognized all my symptoms. I had a name for my suffering, and 1 knew I was not "crazy." I'd felt so much guilt and anger towards myself for not being okay, that is, my old self, since I was "free." Now I knew healing would take time and effort, and I gave myself permission to not be normal right away. Also, seeing how much my condition resembled that of war survivors helped break down some of my denial about the hell I'd been through.

Still, I had no guidance on how to recover from PTSD. I followed only the dimmest instincts. First, I began to read accounts by survivors of any serious trauma. These people became my invisible support group. I found myself drawn especially to stories of political prisoners and concentration camp survivors. Although my experience was not like theirs, these were the people I felt would understand how my will had been sapped and my strengths twisted, how the smallest acts of resistance and mere endurance had needed all my wits and courage. Bruno Bettleheim in his chapters called "Behavior in Extreme Situations" (The Informed Heart) finally answered the question I'd put to myself every 44 hour since my escape: "How could I have been so stupid?" He made me realize that under abuse, especially the combination of intermittent threats, unpredictable violence and constant psychological torture, everyone responds differently, but everyone changes fundamentally, and everyone has their breaking point.

One day as I sat reading at the kitchen table, I looked out the window at the small yard beside our duplex apartment, and I began to imagine growing a garden there in the spring. It seemed like a highly improbable idea: the area was very small, steep, bare of everything but gray shale and orange clay, and the house shaded it part of the day. But the notion of a garden took root strongly. For the first time in several years I had something pleasant to anticipate.

I wrangled my landlady's permission to put in a garden. Then I mailed off postcards for seed catalogs. I persuaded an acquaintance who owned a truck to bring me a load of cedar slabs discarded by a local sawmill, and I used these to construct two frames, about four feet by six feet, and two even smaller ones, just three feet by four feet. By this time Lynn and I had saved enough money to buy a very old VW bug, so we drove to a nearby creekbank and filled bushel baskets with rich bottom dirt, which we dumped into the frames to make raised beds about four inches deep.

To supplement the tiny growing space, Lynn scavenged large cans from the cafeteria of the hospital where she worked. I painted them a hopeful green, filled them with soil and placed them along the sidewalk below our porch. Old-timey "Corn-row Beans," originally bred to tolerate the shade of cornfields, grew up strings tied to the roof and bore prolifically.

I didn't have much money from my SSI income to spend on garden gadgets, so I made do. I wove a trellis for my peas from six-pack rings liberated from a liquor store trash bin. (I can testify that this plastic never biodegrades—the pea fence survives to this day.) I got some more bushel baskets from the local grocery, painted them with non-toxic preservative and lined them with garbage bags after snipping a few drainage holes in the bottom. Placed around a small stone patio above the garden, these became containers for large plants.

The garden rewarded me before the first mouthful of early spinach was harvested. It moved me out of the gloomy apartment and into the sunshine, watering can in hand. It motivated me to interact with people and to occasionally risk asking for help. I found out they would usually say yes. My attention was now focused on the future, not the bitter, unchangeable past. At night when the flashbacks threatened to roll, when I dreaded the dreams I might have, I put myself to sleep with 45 detailed plans of my next crop rotation. I found out I could learn a major new skill, a little at a time. I could do things right, even come up with ingenious solutions to seemingly impossible difficulties. And when I did things wrong, plants were most often forgiving. The plants themselves were a tremendous source of inspiration. Talk about survivors! They defied every book written about their needs, often thriving with too little sun, too little water, and too little soil. At the end of a year, I could easily stick my shovel in the dirt up to the hilt, where only four inches of top soil had previously existed; compost and the action of the roots had created friable loam out of shale and clay.

When I experienced failure with gardening, it was never the kind of disaster I'd grown to associate with mistakes. We didn't go hungry, because other crops outstripped our expectations. My lover didn't beat or berate me, but sympathized and helped. The garden was important to us economically, because we'd both lost almost everything we owned in our escape. Luckily, in southern Arkansas, it's possible to garden yearround. The garden gave me precious, desperately needed tastes of success. Disabled, unemployed, I still felt like an important contributor to the household. I even had food to give away sometimes, and that was a delicious feeling.

Gardening was not the only factor in my recovery, but it was an important one. I didn't grow up with abuse, but battering and similar traumas can expand minutes into hours, years into decades, until four years feel like most of a lifetime. At the end of a year and a half of gardening, I no longer felt as if I'd spent the majority of my life in a battering situation. Healing had acquired a new definition for me: I didn't insist on having the old me back; I'd mourned her long and well. I accepted the fact that some injuries are too severe to be made whole, that I might never be the same again. But I began to actually like and trust the me I am now, scars and all. As my garden taught me, I must make do with what I am. I have discovered that my flaws are not fatal and my successes are greater than I'd hoped for. So far I have not gone hungry, and I even have something to offer."]

Amy Edgington, Gaining Ground, from Garden Variety Dykes: Lesbian Traditions In Gardening, Herbooks, 1994

#amy edgington #lesbian literature #terra preta #cw abuse #you are a goddamn tree stump with leaves sprouting out

811 notes · View notes

averykedavra · 3 years

Text

A Conversation I Overheard (1/5)

It’s been a while since one of these, hasn’t it? A little one-shot turned out not-so-little and I figured it was about time to give multi-chapter fics another shot. This self-indulgent little beast is courtesy of a prompt by the lovely @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors, which you can find here! The title and plot are entirely their creation. @sleepless-in-starbucks encouraged me to write this awhile back (read: months and months ago, because I’m slow at writing) and here I am! Finally! Better late than never. So...commence fic!

Update schedule is to be determined. This fic is on Ao3 here!

Pairings: romantic LAMP

Warnings: insecurity and self-hatred, anxiety, depressive symptoms, spiraling, a crap-ton of miscommunication, and mentions of kissing

Summary: When Roman eavesdrops on a family meeting post-wedding, he hears the last thing he expected--the sides confessing their feelings for each other. Which is lovely for them, but it means Roman is stuck as the fourth wheel. Helpful, quiet, and doing his best to keep them from remembering that they're still mad at Roman.

And doing his best to keep himself from dwelling on the heartbreak. Because of course they don’t love him. Why would they?

(or: the four times the sides tried to tell Roman they loved him, and the one time he finally believed them.)

Chapter One: Denial

First. Next. Masterlist.

Roman knew it was petty. He knew it was a petty, selfish, unchivalrous thing to do. He should treat his fellow Sides with more respect. He should own up to his mistakes. He should make like the fabulous prince he was and lead the discussion, fix everything, listen to the people who knew him best.

Roman knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t force himself to answer the door.

“Kiddo?” Patton asked for the third time. “Did you hear me? I said we’re all going to have a--family meeting. To talk about what happened. I think it would be a good idea for us all to...get things off our chest.”

Roman clutched at his sash and stared at the ceiling. If he called out, Patton wouldn’t hear him. He’d have to walk over to the door and open it. That was one excuse to stay still. That was one excuse to keep quiet.

“I know you’re upset,” Patton said. “It’s okay. We want to hear you out. Maybe we can help you work through some things.”

Roman would cry if he tried to work through things. He would start blubbering in front of everyone he knew. That was one excuse to keep the door locked.

“You don’t have to.” Patton sounded upset. He always sounded upset these days--maybe it was the door muffling his voice, or just because he was talking to Roman. “You really don’t have to, kiddo, it’s okay. I get it. You’re--perfectly within rights not to come. I don’t want to pressure you.”

They didn’t want him there. Roman would ruin the whole thing, say something cruel and hurtful as he always did, and leave the situation worse than it started. That was one excuse to stay away.

“I get it,” Patton said, his voice barely making it through the door. “Janus won’t be there, and it will be calm, and we’ll talk things out. I get your hesitation, kiddo. It’s okay. I’d just--love if you gave us a chance.”

Would they give Roman a chance? How many chances were left until Roman ran out? What were the conditions of this chance--did he need to look better, act better, be better? He’d barely managed to put on makeup this morning. That was one excuse to stay inside.

“I guess that’s all I have to say.” Patton laughed a bit. “Maybe you’re asleep, and I’m just talking to myself. That’d be pretty silly of me, wouldn’t it?”

Roman was tired. He’d been tired for weeks. He was always tired. That was one excuse to avoid the meeting.

He had so, so many excuses.

They were probably the only things he was creative at.

“Well...goodbye, I guess?” Patton hesitated. Roman could see his shadow under the door. “Talk to you later, kiddo. My invitation stands.”

The shadow flickered and vanished. Roman didn’t move from his bed, splayed on the red-and-white quilt, staring at the ceiling.

They’d be arranged on the couch when the meeting started. He could picture it well enough. Logan in the armchair, Patton on the couch, Virgil on the arm of the couch--or, if he was stressed, the top of it. He probably would be stressed. They all would be. Patton would be worrying the sleeves of his hoodie, and Virgil would be chewing on his nails, and Logan would be shifting his thermos between his hands or drumming his fingers on his knee. Maybe they’d invite Thomas. Maybe Patton would double back and invite Janus after all.

It didn’t matter, though, because Roman wasn’t going.

Patton would start the family meeting. He always read the minutes, as it was, and thanked everyone for coming. Virgil usually bristled at the gratitude. Logan always returned it. Roman always bowed with a little twirl of his hand--ridiculously dramatic--and if Thomas was there, he’d smile with his nervous smile. It was a combination of Patton’s optimism and Virgil’s anxiety. Roman could always see them in Thomas, because he knew them so well, he knew where every jagged edge fit together.

Roman remembered how the family meetings always went. A problem, a discussion, a solution. It wasn’t like it was in videos. Videos were for Thomas issues. Family meetings were for family issues. There was often overlap, which made it common to pregame a video with a quick discussion, or to pile onto the couches when a video was concluded. In Roman’s memory, which was often wrong, this meeting was almost two weeks after the disastrous wedding. Two weeks was the longest time between a video and a meeting that Roman could remember. Two weeks was far too long, and yet, not long enough.

He’d known this was coming. He’d prepared himself. He’d even rehearsed apologies, perfectly crafted to gain sympathy--and what kind of manipulative person did that? Who tried that hard for affection? He couldn’t be truly accepted, truly loved, unless they knew the truth about Roman.

Except Roman couldn’t bear to let his walls down. He couldn’t bear to see the looks on their faces, if they knew everything--how much he failed, how much he wasn’t who they needed, how much he felt for them.

He couldn’t even imagine apologizing without his stomach flipping.

He wondered what they would talk about. He knew how the meetings usually went, but he wondered what would fit into the format, what would make Patton wince or Virgil shift on the couch. He wondered what solution they would find. They always found a solution. Sometimes it took several hours, but they did. Roman was usually the largest obstacle.

Maybe they would solve things easier, if he wasn’t there.

Or would they? If Roman was the problem, could they really find a solution without talking to him? Would they pass judgment on him while he sat in his room, alone, or would they dance around the issue? Pretend they weren’t missing anyone? Pretend everything was fine?

Roman glanced at his closed door. Patton would be downstairs. The meeting would be starting. He could picture the way they’d tug each other into a group hug at the end, or the way Virgil curled into himself when anxious, or the cute way Logan always bit his lip when thinking--he knew them so well, but he could see a million ways for the conversation to go. There were too many blank spaces between lines. Too many ways for the story to end.

Would they knock on his door later? Tell him what happened? Tell him--tell him they’d decided, that Roman needed to leave, that he was better off on the other side of the Mindscape? That they’d made a mistake in trying to be his friend?

Roman ran his hands down his arms and pressed his fingers into his skin. Chin up. Act like a prince. He wasn’t in the mood to cry again, although if everyone was busy downstairs, he had the least odds of being heard.

He felt greasy. Maybe it was because of the clothes he’d slept in for three days, or his unshowered and unbrushed hair, or the distinct lack of vegetables in his recent diet. He’d avoided eating with the others. He’d avoided the others in general.

He had no idea what they were talking about downstairs. What was so unimportant--so important--that Roman didn’t need to attend? Perhaps they were simply nice enough to leave him be, but he could hardly believe there wouldn’t be another shoe to fall.

Something would happen. Roman just couldn’t decide on what.

Curiosity gnawed at his empty stomach.

He didn’t want to be unprepared. He should get ready, should prepare an apology, should pack his things--his room was teetering with cushions and lace, and he winced at the prospect of cleaning it out. If he knew what they were planning, if he knew who he would face, he’d be ready.

Patton would be painfully nice. Roman could talk him out of banishment if he tried--a horrible thought. An evil thought. Roman could never manipulate Patton like that, could never take advantage of his trusting nature or the guilt he was sure to feel. So he’d stay silent. He’d let Patton stumble through platitudes before saying “sorry, Roman, but you have to go.”

Roman would smile and nod. He’d let Patton hug him, if Patton wanted, if that made Patton feel better. Or maybe Patton wouldn’t touch him. He certainly hadn’t in weeks.

Roman rubbed his arms.

Logan would be painfully clinical. If Logan decided something, it was almost impossible to change his mind--see every argument Roman had with him ever. He’d share his evidence, if Roman asked, if Roman was brave enough to ask. Maybe he’d even let Roman argue a point or two. But it wouldn’t change anything. It never did.

Roman would bite back his retorts. He’d avoid saying goodbye. If he did, he’d get choked up. Crying in front of anyone would be humiliating, and Logan would be more so.

Roman swallowed.

Virgil would--he could barely imagine a scenario where Virgil would have the courage to kick him out alone. But maybe Virgil wanted to do it himself. Maybe Virgil would shuffle his feet on the carpet, hands deep in his pockets. Maybe he’d chew his lip. Roman would reassure him, calm him down, coax a relieved smile out of him--and then he’d tell Roman to leave.

It was more likely that Virgil would have backup. Maybe Logan and Virgil, since Logan always calmed Virgil down--or Patton and Logan? Patton might want that logical reassurance. Or Patton and Virgil, if they wanted to be as emotional as possible. Or all three.

Roman didn’t know. It could be any of them, and Roman wasn’t ready.

If only he knew what to expect.

Roman glanced at the door.

The hallway was quiet. Roman slid on his socks past the doors, and paused at the stairs to gather information and courage. He could hear murmured conversation below--stops and starts, sounding hesitant. How long had it been since they started? He’d forgotten to check the time. All he could make out were singular vowels. Nothing concrete.

Roman inched closer to the top of the stairs, trying to stay out of sight. If he could get to the kitchen, he’d be hidden, but how could he get past--

Oh. Roman almost laughed at his stupidity. The next second, he appeared in the kitchen.

To avoid being spotted, he’d decided to sit on the floor, leaning against the counter. The kitchen tiles were cold under his feet. He wrapped his arms around his chest. With bated breath, he waited, but nobody entered the kitchen. Nobody said his name. The living room was silent.

Roman let out a long breath. He was already regretting this. What prince eavesdropped on his companions? If he was caught, he’d get an earful. Or worse--a disappointed look from Patton. Roman shuddered at the thought. Patton was exceedingly good at the disappointed look.

He didn’t want to move, or he might alert them. That was enough of an excuse to stay still and listen.

“...can’t keep putting this off,” Patton was saying when Roman tuned in. “I’ve given you all time, and I get that you need it, but we can’t just glare at each other forever! We have to actually talk about this.”

“Not now,” Virgil argued. “Roman’s not even here.”

“Roman--needs space.”

“So Roman gets space, but I don’t?” Virgil didn’t sound angry, at least to Roman. He just sounded upset. “How’s that fair?”

“You agreed to be here,” Patton said, with patience. “If you want to leave at any time, you can--”

“Cool--”

“But I think it would be a good idea for you to stay. If you want.”

“This is highly confusing,” Logan said. Roman tried not to overanalyze the entire situation, but Logan’s voice was clipped, strained in the wrong ways.

“Look,” Patton said with a sigh, “I’m trying to find a compromise. This isn’t easy and I’m pretty sure I’m messing some part of it up, but even an imperfect conversation is still a conversation. And we need one of those, guys. We really do.”

Roman heard the sound of a zipper. Virgil was probably pulling at the zippers on his sleeves.

“You’re doing fine,” Logan said. Reassuring and reluctant and quiet.

“Thanks,” Patton said. Reluctant and quiet.

“What now?” Virgil asked. Quiet.

It was just quiet for a long time, long enough for Roman’s knees to start aching. He didn’t move. He didn’t want to break the silence.

“I’m sorry,” Patton said.

Both Logan and Virgil started to say something, but their words jumbled together and they both went quiet.

“I’ve messed up a lot,” Patton continued, chuckling a bit. “Gosh, it’s been a lot. And that’s hurt you guys, and I’m sorry. So--maybe I’m going about this all wrong. I know you don’t really want to be here, but...I want to listen to you more. All of you. I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

Virgil mumbled something that Roman didn’t catch. It must have been something self-deprecating, because Patton clucked at him, and Logan murmured something back.

“So I’m giving you the floor. Even though it’s Thomas’.” Patton chuckled more at his own joke. Roman caught a snicker from Virgil as well. “Just...say what’s on your mind, okay?”

Another long moment of silence.

“Uh, who goes first?” Virgil asked. “Do we like, pick straws, or--”

“You can go first,” Logan said quickly.

“Dude! Don’t feed me to the wolves!”

“No wolves,” Patton reassured them. “You can go in any order you want.”

Virgil huffed. “Shouldn’t Princey be here?”

“If Roman doesn’t want to be here, we can’t make him,” Logan said with a touch of irritation. “I’d rather have a calm conversation with three people than an argument with four.”

Roman curled a bit further into a ball on the kitchen floor.

“Jury’s still out on calm,” Virgil muttered. “Yeah. So--me?”

“You don’t have to,” Logan said.

“But go for it,” Patton added.

“Yeah. Okay.” Virgil took a deep breath. If Roman listened closely, he could hear the faint rasp of an echo in his voice. “So--the wedding, huh? That was something. That happened.”

“Yes,” Logan said, when Virgil didn’t continue. “It did happen.”

“Yeah, I--ugh.” Virgil groaned. “I don’t know where to start. What to talk about, or whatever. Don’t you guys have any specific questions?”

“Uh--” Patton made a noncommittal noise. “I don’t wanna limit you, Virge.”

“I could use some limitations right about now.”

“Alright.” Roman could picture what Patton was doing--gesturing at Virgil like he was handing over his words on a platter. “How did the wedding make you feel?”

“Bad,” Virgil said.

“Good start,” Patton encouraged. “And?”

“It was like--” Virgil sucked in a breath and let it out. “Like I didn’t want to get involved, right after, ‘cause you guys seemed pretty busy and all. I was just trying not to freak out. Logan let me in his room, which was nice--”

Logan made a small noise. Maybe of surprise.

“--and that helped, but he was also talking to you guys so I couldn’t really avoid the whole thing, and then--” Virgil paused. Roman could just make out a muttered four-seven-eight, maybe from Patton, maybe from Logan. “And it was. Not fun. I wanted to help out, Pat, you seemed so upset and I really did want to--and--and Roman was upset, and Logan was telling me he could handle it--”

“That was…” Logan paused, but Virgil didn’t say anything else. “A bit of an error on my part.”

“Not your fault you got impersonated, L.”

Patton made a small noise. “I am really sorry about that, Logan.”

“Not your fault he got impersonated, either.”

“I could have noticed,” Patton said unconvincingly. “And I did press the skip button.”

“You did,” Logan said.

Silence fell.

“Uh--is it still my turn?” Virgil asked. “Did I--am I done?”

“I don’t--” Patton sighed. “This isn’t working either, is it.”

Nobody argued with him.

“Have we ever found a conversation tactic that does work?” Logan pointed out, sounding uncharacteristically glum. “Have we ever managed to fix every problem at hand, without simultaneously exacerbating several others?”

“I don’t think so,” Virgil said.

“It was rhetorical.” Logan sighed. “My point is that we’re stuck in a loop. We do this every time, and we’ve never managed to successfully communicate the root issues.”

“We’ve gotten better,” Patton said.

“Have we?”

Quiet again. Roman was beginning to stiffen in his position, and one of his feet was falling asleep. Roman shifted it as quietly as possible. It tingled.

“And I thought I was supposed to be the pessimist,” Virgil teased. It fell flat. “Look, L, I don’t think we should scrap the whole thing just because it doesn’t fix everything flat out--”

“But there has to be something we’re missing.” Patton’s voice was determined. “Logan’s right. There’s stuff at play deep down here, and we’ve never talked about it, because--because we don’t know how to get those real answers. Because we don’t know what questions to ask. So we need answers to the questions that we don’t know need answers.”

“You lost me,” Virgil said.

“He’s saying we should try to cut to the figurative heart of the issue.” Logan paused. “I agree, in theory.”

“Oh.” Virgil paused. “Stop--lying?”

Roman gripped his knees tightly.

“Lying has a place and time,” Patton said. “But--you know, there’s a reason why I didn’t invite Janus, right? He’s a good friend and an important part of Thomas. But he’s not--you guys. You guys are different. And--and I don’t think we can have true love if our relationship isn’t based on truth.”

“True love,” Virgil repeated with a snicker. “We’re not each other’s Disney princes, Pat.”

Logan snickered too. “I’m sure Roman would disagree.”

“We love each other!” Patton protested. “I--I love you guys, at least. I love you.”

“I know,” Virgil said after a moment, his voice bittersweet. “I know, Pat. You’re a good friend.”

A very long pause.

“We ought to do something about that,” Logan said, “shouldn’t we?”

“Do something--” Virgil laughed. “What are you--”

“Patton said we ought to be honest,” Logan said. Pointedly. “I also think it would be a good idea. For both of you.”

“What?” Patton sounded confused, but it was only the sound of confusion, not the real thing. “What’s up, Lo?”

“Yeah, L,” Virgil said, both an invitation and a warning. “What are you saying?”

A brief pause. Roman pictured Logan fiddling with his glasses and almost smiled.

“I have to admit this is not my area of expertise,” Logan said, his voice quiet. “However, I think observations have painted a clear picture of the situation. Our--issues with each other are myriad, and stem from a variety of sources, but it is as Patton said. We need to be honest. I believe there’s a very clear culprit for some of our communication issues, and I think you know what it is.”

Silence. Roman’s stomach was slowly dropping to the floor. He bit his lip and tried to stop himself from sinking out. He still needed to hear what they decided--although, the more the conversation continued, the more he felt like he was intruding. Things were getting personal. This wasn’t his place.

As if he heard Roman’s thoughts, Virgil blurted out “Should we really talk about this right now? While Roman’s--”

“We can think about that later,” Logan said. “I think the three of us need to admit a few things.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” Patton giggled weakly. “We can’t all keep up with you and your brain, Lo.”

Logan paused for too long to be natural. He was worried. Roman wondered what worried him--he should sink out now, before things got personal, but his feet were rooted to the kitchen floor--

“We aren’t friends,” Logan said.

“Uh, dude,” Virgil began, “you might wanna--”

“We aren’t just friends.” Logan let out a breath. “You know that.”

Roman needed to go. He wasn’t meant to hear this part. His breath was already catching in his throat. How dare he ruin this moment, how dare he toss himself into a private conversation, how dare his legs refuse to move--

“What are you talking about?” Virgil’s voice was harsh. Too harsh, not only for the conversation, but for Virgil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Logan said. “You know there are other things at play, it’s foolish to deny--”

“I’m not denying anything!”

“We’re not just friends!” Logan almost yelled. “The evidence is practically a mountain--we have sleepovers every weekend! We eat breakfast together!”

“Yeah, we’re friends!” Virgil fired back. “That’s normal friend stuff!”

“We’re family,” Patton amended, the first time he’d spoken. His voice was hollow. “Besides, it’s always just been us, of course we’re different.”

“We’re different,” Logan agreed. “Virgil falls asleep on your shoulder. You give us forehead kisses. We cuddle. That isn’t platonic.”

“And what’s your evidence, wise guy?” Virgil’s voice pitched upwards. “Platonic is weird! Romantic is weird! How are you supposed to instantly tell the difference?”

“I’m simply stating that there could be something else at play!”

“You’re my only friends!” Virgil burst out. “I don’t have anything else to compare it to--it’s normal. All of it. How I feel--it’s normal.”

Logan’s voice suddenly quieted. “And how do you feel?”

“Normal,” Virgil said.

Patton still hadn’t said anything else. Roman would have peeked around to see if he was okay, if he could remember how to move, how to think.

“Normal,” Virgil repeated. “It’s--we’re friends. We love each other. It’s normal.”

Logan hummed. “You were friends with Deceit, correct?”

“Janus,” Patton said faintly. Nobody acknowledged him.

“No,” Virgil said. “Yes. Kind of. It’s complicated.”

“Would you ever be comfortable with cuddling him?”

“I hate him.”

“We’re working under the assumption that you do not.”

“Look, I--it’s complicated.” Virgil huffed. “I wouldn’t be, but that’s because I hate him, and I’ve always been way more comfortable with you guys anyway, ‘cause I don’t have to act--mean, or whatever. You guys are different than him. Always have been.”

“Different,” Logan said.

“Yeah, because I literally hate him--” Virgil groaned. “Look, L, don’t make patterns where there aren’t any. It’s fine. We’re--we’re friends.”

“Logan has a point.” Patton’s words came out in a rush, like he’d been bottling them up. “He has a point.”

Logan made a surprised noise. “I do?”

“Et tu, Brute?” Virgil’s voice softened. “You think so?”

“Janus is really nice,” Patton said. “We’ve been talking for a while now, ever since--well, everything. I’ve appreciated his support. He makes me laugh. And--and he’s not like you guys. Not just because he’s a newer friend. You’re all different.” His voice dipped. “You’ve always been different to me.”

A long, long silence. Roman couldn’t feel his legs, or his lungs, or his heart.

“This isn’t my area of expertise,” Logan said. Quietly, quietly. “I suppose there really isn’t any way to tell, objectively, what we--are to each other. All I can say is, to me, you are a lot. Not everything--I don’t believe anyone could be everything--but...more than on average. More than I’ve admitted to myself.”

“You’re kidding,” Virgil blurted out, an edge of hysterical laughter in his voice. “You’re--that’s not it, that can’t be it, you can’t--”

“Doesn’t it make sense?” Patton pleaded, his words all in a rush again. “It--it doesn’t have to, gosh, I know it doesn’t have to, but if you could give it a chance--”

“A chance?” Virgil repeated incredulously. “We’re not--we’re not--”

“I’m sorry,” Patton said. Quietly. Roman was so tired of quiet. “I’m really sorry, Virgil.”

“You’re--you’re serious.” Virgil sounded inches from a panic attack. “You’re--”

“We can all take a moment to think,” Logan suggested, sounding inches from his own. “We can--we can take time to process, it’s fine, we don’t have to work this out right now--we can forget this ever happened--”

“It’ll be okay,” Patton said. Maybe to Virgil. Maybe to Logan. Maybe to himself. “We’ll handle this. We always do.”

“You’re--” Virgil’s voice broke. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Virge,” Patton said. Quietly, quietly, too quietly for Roman to sneak away. “You’re the coolest emo around.”

“No.” Virgil’s voice pitched frantic again. “No, no--I love you guys, don’t I? I--you’ve always been there for me, and you always looked after me, and Logan always calms me down and Pat, you always make me smile, and--”

“You don’t have to do this,” Logan murmured. “I understand that I miscalculated, you don’t need to--”

“No!” Virgil might have laughed. Or sobbed, it was hard to tell. “No, L, you genius, you got it exactly right.”

Roman swallowed and realized his mouth was dry.

“I love you!” Virgil said, triumphantly, like he’d solved everything. Like everything made sense. Maybe it did. “I love you, I love you so much--what am I even saying, this is so stupid--I love you, I was an idiot, I didn’t--”

“I--” Patton laughed breathlessly. “Virgil--”

“Do you--” Virgil’s voice dipped. “Do you--”

“I love you too,” Patton said, as if it was the first time he’d ever said it. Maybe it was.

“I--” Logan coughed awkwardly. “Not to seem obtuse, but can we clarify if--”

“If you’re included in the ‘you’?” Virgil laughed. “L, obviously, it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Ah.” Was Logan blushing? He sounded like it. Roman would be ecstatic to witness a flustered Logan, if he was not currently frozen and terrified. “That--ah. I...likewise, I hold an amount of affection towards you that is commonly considered romantic. So to speak.”

“Aww!” Patton cooed. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Logan said. “I think we’ve established that we all love each other! I think that’s clear!”

“Always has been, I’m just an idiot.” Was Virgil smiling? He sounded like it. Oh, if only Roman was able to appreciate it. “Y’know, it’s been...an understood thing.”

“Yeah,” Patton said. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Silence.

“This doesn’t solve anything,” Logan said, as if he was obligated to point out the flaws. As if he couldn’t let himself enjoy the moment yet. “We still have much to discuss, not least--”

“I know, I know.” Patton was smiling, Roman could hear it, and it made Roman’s chest hurt. “But it’ll help, that we were honest--and aren’t you guys happy? That we can--”

“Do what?” Virgil asked, when Patton petered out.

“Be...together,” Patton finished. “If you want.”

Roman’s stomach twisted in Celtic knots. He shook his foot, almost hoping that they’d hear him and stop talking--and then he could distract them, remind them of him and why they’d started this meeting in the first place, ruin their moment like always--

“I’d like that,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Me too.”

And then it was entirely the wrong kind of quiet. A movement or two, then quiet--and Roman could come to all sorts of conclusions, imagine them clearly in his head, but he settled on the obvious one. He cursed his mind for supplying him with a clear mental picture. Oh, so he couldn’t think of a video idea in a week, but now his imagination worked?

The quiet stretched on longer. Too long. Too long and Roman was itching at the seams, thumbing at his sash, regretting ever stepping foot out of his room.

But it was fine. It was fine. He’d just leave now.

If they were doing what he thought they were, they probably wouldn’t notice.

Roman steeled himself, pushed himself onto his knees, and stood up. As quickly as possible. Raise his hand. Teleport. It was easy--like reaching out and plucking a string, tensing a muscle, lighting a fire. A flourish of the hand, and the kitchen slipped out of reach, and he didn’t want to see the others, but he did--Patton beaming, and Virgil covering his smile with his hand, and Logan tilting his head forward and then Roman closed his eyes because he didn’t want to see, he didn’t--

But, well, he could imagine.

His room was empty. When he flopped into the same position he’d started the day in, and covered his head with his blanket, he could almost pretend he hadn’t left. That he’d dreamed the whole thing. That they weren’t downstairs, right now, holding hands, cupping cheeks and--

Roman yelled something inaudible into his pillow.

He should be happy for them. He should be happy--and he was! He was happy for them. They deserved each other. They were his best friends--his friends--his--

They were...something, that was for sure.

They deserved each other.

Roman should be happy.

It would be good for the family, now that they were no longer on bad terms. Roman couldn’t count the number of awkward glances they’d had over the years. Maybe this had finally helped to clear the air. That was one excuse to be happy for them.

Roman thrived off romance. He could hardly turn down the opportunity to support such a cute couple, especially when they were so adorably awkward in their confessions. That was another excuse to be happy for them.

It would take the pressure off him. They seemed to have entirely forgotten their meeting’s goal, which included deciding whether Roman deserved to stay. Maybe they’d keep forgetting. Maybe the beauty of love would soften their hearts towards him, and Roman could scrape by on table scraps and glancing smiles, surviving on the edges once again. They’d tolerate him. They’d forget he existed, because they’d be enamored with each other, exactly as they deserved.

That was another excuse to be happy.

And they wanted this. They’d clearly pined for so long, and now they had what they wanted, they had each other--Roman was thrilled for them, ecstatic, over the moon. It felt right, somehow, to see them all together. The perfect fairytale ending. If this was their happy ending, who was Roman to stand in their way?

Did he want to be more of a villain?

No. He couldn’t ruin yet another perfect thing. He just had to suck it up and be chivalrous. He wasn’t their hero, wasn’t their friend, wasn’t their--wasn’t theirs. He was nothing but a fourth wheel.

We love you.

Right.

Roman pressed his hands to his eyes to stop the tears. There was no reason to cry. This was fine. He should be happy. He’d faked happy for years and years, why was this what he couldn’t handle? What had he expected? He didn’t get a consolation prize after what he’d done. He didn’t rescue the dashing princes. He hadn’t earned his happy ending, and now he was alone in his room, while the three most important people in his life found solace in each other.

And it was fine.

They were happy.

So Roman would be happy, too. Roman would be everything they needed him to be. Roman would make the most of this, and he would be a good friend and a good person, even if it killed him. No bitterness. No jealousy. No longing for something he knew he didn’t deserve.

No excuses.

They were in love. They were happy. And that was enough.

If Roman truly loved them, he would let that be enough.

But, well, Roman didn’t truly do much of anything. And he spent most of the day in a pile on his pillows, ignoring the knocks on his door, and getting absolutely nothing done. He was out of ideas and out of passion. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could imagine was being shoved out his door, and the soft look in his best friends’ eyes as they kissed each other on the living room couch.

But it was fine, Roman was fine, and everything was fine.

Princes didn’t complain. Princes moved on. Princes were gracious and helpful in the face of true love.

Princes got true love.

Roman wasn’t much of a prince, though. And it was fine. He was fine.

Everything was so incredibly fine.

When Roman finally fell asleep, his last thought was worry--that he’d summoned Janus with all his lying. But Janus didn’t appear. It was just Roman, slipping into dreams on his rumpled quilt, glad of an excuse to stop thinking.

First. Next. Masterlist.

General taglist:

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

@stoicpanther

@chaospersonified

@thatoneloudowl

@jungle321jungle

@mistythegenderqueermess

@k1ngtok1

@joylessnightsky

@elizabutgayer

@ohheavenlylord

@enby-ralsei

@remy-the-lemon-berry

@drarrymalecsolangelo

@riptide-123

@fander-fic-recs

@multi-fandoms-posts

Taglist from @the-taglist-repository:

@katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @awkwardjester @smileyzs @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd @callboxkat @potatsanderssides @idont-freaking-know @nonasficcollection @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123 @hekking-happy-nonsense @cottonwoolsocks @aceawkwardunicorn @somehow-i-got-an-account @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @a-fandom-trashdump @demoniccheese83

Ask to be included (on a specific taglist for this fic, or my general one)!

#roman sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders angst #lamp #romantic lamp #averywrites #a conversation i overheard #if i don't update all the links/masterlists/everything before i go to bed #shhhh u didnt see that #i'll organize it all in the morning i promise djbhgsfshsj

147 notes · View notes

clan-sayeed-fic · 3 years

Text

Business (Kamilah Sayeed & MC)

Previous chapters: 1, 2

Book: Bloodbound (property of Pixelberry Studios)

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed & MC: Amy (I do not own those characters, they’re the property of Pixelberry Studios as well)

Warnings: angst, smut

Rating: Mature

Author’s note: I’m not a native English speaker, I’m sorry for any mistakes (feel free to correct me).

Just like I promised, I'm posting the third chapter of the story 😄 I'll do my best to post the rest of the fic in the future. I hope you enjoy this chapter and don't mind that it’s so long 😂💖

~ 2900 words

---------------------

Chapter 3

"Let me go!"

Despite all the power put into the scream, words had been stolen by the infinity of the forest. The only sounds echoing in the darkness were the drumming of hooves and loud breaths coming out from both: rider and his horse.

Just when the man thought that he managed to escape the jaws of death, some impossibly strong creature knocked him off from the saddle. His body flew in the air before hitting the ground, breaking bones.

The young, chestnut stallion stopped galloping as soon as he sensed the lack of weight of his owner on the saddle. This well-trained creature turned around, ready to stand by the side of the man that groomed him since he was only a foal.

But at the time he got closer to the owner, something emerged from the shadows, sneaking up toward them. The horse's ears went wild, moving in different directions. He lifted his head high, getting a better perception of the surroundings as all of his muscles tensed, ready to react.

That's when a harsh red light flashed in the middle of the road in front of them. Despite all the previous courage, the presence of an unusual for the horse predator awoke his instincts.

Instincts that were saying to run away as fast as possible.

The dust picked up around the wounded man, and all he was able to hear was the neighing of the stallion. The sound was slowly fading away, deeper into the embrace of the forest.

"Seems that not even a horse is willing to help you," a feminine, harsh voice came straight from the direction of the crimson light. "I got the order. You must know how these work."

He was her target, a prey to hunt down for her master, her creator.

She had been said to look for the leader of the village in this part of the land. There was a prophecy saying about the downfall of vampires. It pointed at this specific person becoming the cause of it one day.

Her master wanted to take care of it in advance. To make sure that vampires will remain at the end of the food chain for much longer.

So there she was, just doing her part of the job.

"My wife..." the man managed to speak, being interrupted by his own blood, making him choke. "My wife is pregnant, I need to be there..." another spit of blood, "...for her and my child."

The vampire approached the begging man. Just to kneel down, so she would be able to look directly in his eyes. To see his fear and unsureness about the future of his family.

"Oh..." a seemingly sympathetic tone escaped her mouth.

Just to be followed by the dagger aimed straight in his heart.

"...but you will not."

***

Hesitation hit Amy along with the cold air of the evening right after she got out of her car.

Words said during the meeting echoed inside her mind, filling the space with doubt. She was well aware that her attitude during the gathering might have caused the end of this collaboration before it even started. That she might have just ruined the deal on which depended a lot.

Only because her pride had to win... once again.

It was the hour of her meeting with Kamilah. To her surprise, the place that she sent her to wasn't the building of Ahmanet Financial by itself. Instead, she got the address to one of the fanciest neighborhoods in New York.

Amy drove there on her own without bodyguards. She didn't let her parents know about any of what happened so far. In that case, she needed to deal with the situation on her own, praying that she would have only good news to share with them later.

Full of hope, she stepped into the elevator typing the guests' code that Ms. Sayeed sent her earlier that day.

"Now, try to fix it, Amy," she mumbled quietly.

***

The elevator stopped, and doors opened with a loud click sound.

Did she invite me to her penthouse? Amy asked herself in thoughts, stepping inside unsurely, slowly taking in the picture before her eyes.

Her steps were quiet. After walking through a short corridor, she found herself in a spacious living room with a view of the dining table and the open kitchen.

But there was no sign of the apartment owner.

With typical for her curiosity, she looked over the place. The girl was educated in interior design enough to admire a modernly stylized space. The colors around her were outweighed by black, light grey white on the walls and dark, deep browns of the furniture. Here and there, she noticed some accessories in the faint shade of lavender. Everything created a well-balanced contrast, pleasing to the eye.

After a while of waiting, Amy couldn't hold herself any longer, and she slowly approached the dresser that caught her eye from the start. What especially got her attention was an old photograph of the CEO of Ahmanet Financial and some strangers posing in the picture, all smiling. She assumed that the photo showed Kamilah in the company of friends.

But the only person she recognized from it was Adrian. He looked exactly the same as when she met him for the first time. The only difference was visible in his clothes. Everyone in the picture seemed to wear garments that had been taken straight from a different era.

Was it taken during some kind of costume party? Or maybe just a long time ago, but... how long? The girl put her purse aside to place one of her fingers on the picture, tracing over its surface, lost in thoughts.

"I can see you're the nosey one," a deep whisper made her jump in surprise.

Amy turned around quickly, almost knocking the picture by doing so. Just to face a smirking Kamilah Sayeed standing right there with her arms crossed. The girl's heartbeat increased from sudden shock, making her attempt to compose herself fail badly.

"Oh," Amy felt her cheeks reddening without permission, "I thought you were in a bathroom, or..." she was making excuses, but it got her thinking.

Why didn't she notice the woman sooner?

"I was watching you," Kamilah answered like she was reading her mind just by staring intensively at the girl. "Let me invite you to my office."

After a moment of hesitation, Amy decided to leave her concerns for some other time. So she followed this tall, mysterious woman, getting further into the apartment.

She found herself amazed by how different this room was decorated in comparison to the rest of them. It was way more cozy and old fashioned there between these four walls decorated with ancient artifacts.

"I'm surprised to see you alone," Kamilah stood behind the desk, inviting Amy to take a seat in front of her with a hand gesture.

Documents had been already arranged, waiting for her to read them. But suddenly, Amy lost her previous boldness. Out of nowhere, she felt intimidated by the presence of this absolutely beautiful woman.

"I'm not always surrounded by them," the girl tried to focus on the files as the following words slipped out of her mouth without her knowledge, "I'm a grown-up."

Kamilah smirked slightly at this but did not make a comment. Instead, she sat down and let Amy read the new contract that she had prepared for her.

***

Finally, Amy picked up a pen after she read the whole deal several times to make sure she understood everything clearly. She signed it and put the pen aside, having a hard time looking at Kamilah's face.

"Could you stop?" Amy whispered with unusual shyness in her voice.

"Excuse me?" Kamilah's eyebrows furrowed slightly, but she didn't take her eyes off the girl.

"You were staring this whole time," Amy did her best to not drop her gaze. "And you're still doing this," she blushed uncontrollably, making the woman smirk with satisfaction.

Kamilah's shoulders lifted and fell with a short yet deep breath. She reached for the documents just to put them on her side of the desk, giving the girl a short break from her stare.

Just to intimidate her with it again a second after.

"Dear...Amy," she started with a pause. "Is that how you'd like to be addressed?"

"It's up to you, Miss Sayeed," thoughts screamed inside the girl's head, judging her for the lack of courage.

"Kamilah," the woman corrected her before continuing. "I was wondering... Your family tree is a truly generous one."

The girl stayed silent, waiting for the rest, but Kamilah clearly expected her reaction.

"It... certainly is," unsureness grew in her chest.

"For centuries, every single newborn in Paines family," Kamilah leaned back on the chair. She twirled her hair around one of her slim fingers, "was a boy, am I right?"

Amy's body stiffened slightly, but she forced herself to nod calmly in response. But her mind worked faster from then on. She started paying more attention to the topic of their conversation. Because they were touching some delicate matters.

Dangerous matters.

"You are very well protected by your family," Kamilah was circling around the subject mercilessly. "Your parents trust you with their business," she tilted her head slightly to the side. "That must mean you are fully informed in the type of clients they are working with."

Oh my god, I am so stupid, Amy cursed herself.

At that same time, her right hand slowly traveled up her thigh. Her dress was designed with a little pocket on the side. Big enough to hide there a small object without arousing suspicion.

In this situation, even such a small wooden stake was good enough for self-defense.

"And yet, you're here." Kamilah squinted her eyes, letting the whisper to escape her lips. "All alone."

It was too much.

Amy stood up, ready to run, but she wasn't fast enough.

The girl wasn't a fool. She knew too well that she could never be faster than any of them. But it was the last chance left for her.

And it still failed.

In a split of a second, she was pushed against the wall with her hands firmly held down her sides. Making it unable to escape even if she dared to put up a fight.

Kamilah's shining eyes moved from the girl's eyes to her lips, following the path of the vein pulsing on her neck. Corners of her lips curled up as she looked down at Amy's right hand. Her fingers moved along.

"And what, care to tell," she ripped the stick out of Amy's grip, "were you planning to do with this?" Kamilah threw the weapon away, filling the room with the hollow sound of the wood hitting the floor.

"I..." Amy tried to calm down her breathing. "I know what you are."

It made the woman close the distance between them even more, their bodies almost touching.

"Enlighten me," Kamilah opened her mouth a little, letting her tongue run over her sharp teeth.

Amy swallowed hard at the view, trying to get her body under control, without success.

Finally, she managed to look into the woman's eyes, noticing a spark of crimson in them.

"You're a monster," words escaped her lips without hesitation.

Kamilah's eyes changed to red in a flash as a performance of power.

But to her surprise, the view didn't make an impression on Amy.

Actually, it caused quite the opposite reaction. The closeness of Kamilah's body suddenly changed from threatening to intimate, spreading heat inside the girl.

The woman leaned down since she was a little bit taller, bringing her lips closer to Amy's ear.

Close enough to let her hear the whisper.

"Are you afraid?" her breath teased sensitive skin on Amy's neck.

The girl closed her eyes for a moment, knowing how bad this situation was for her. Knowing that the anticipation created inside her was easily perceptible for the woman standing just an inch away from her.

That she shouldn't even question her own feelings. She wasn't supposed to react this way around the vampire. Any of them, there was no exception.

At least she thought so until that day.

"I'm not," she almost moaned the answer when Kamilah's hands moved to her waist, eagerly pulling her closer.

Their lips met, letting them taste each other's warmth.

Kamilah teased her, fastening and deepening the dance of her tongue, just to slow down soon after. To step back, waiting for Amy to follow.

The girl climbed on her toes, wanting Kamilah's lips closer, wanting to feel the ecstasy of this feeling forever. She attempted to touch the woman's face after freeing one of her hands. Just to find herself being turned around with an impossible power in response. She waited patiently this time, pressed against the wall with hands behind her back.

"I want to hear you moan," Kamilah whispered into her ear, thrusting from behind.

Amy's dress raised up dangerously, showing her legs, giving access to her skin. Kamilah let go of her hands, and instead, wandered her fingertips all over the girl's exposed thighs, making her writhe under this touch. Making her place both hands on the wall in an attempt to steady herself.

She was breathing heavily, indeed. But that was not what Kamilah expected from her.

And she wanted to make it clear only one more time.

"I said something," her voice sounded a little harsher than before.

Kamilah's hand moved on the inside of Amy's thigh, squeezing. While the other one came impossibly close to the girl's underwear, which was already soaked more than she suspected it to be.

At that point, Amy couldn't hold it anymore, didn't really try either. She moaned through her gritted teeth, moving her hips to feel the woman's fingers more.

"That's a good girl," Kamilah smirked, leaning down to move her tongue on Amy's earlobe.

From there, she moved lower, placing kisses on her nape, moving her blonde hair away from her skin. As she made sure to leave hickeys on her neck, her fingers were teasingly playing with the material of the lingerie. Amy's moans became more urging, revealing her growing impatience.

Desire to finally feel it.

Her aching for the touch.

"You have no clue how much it takes from me," Kamilah muttered into her skin, "to not devour you right now."

These last words were like a dash of cold water that Amy needed at that moment.

She tensed immediately, causing Kamilah to stop touching her. The woman didn't assume to misunderstand her signs earlier, but obviously, something made the girl change her mind.

Amy freed herself from Kamilah's grip, pulling the dress down with shaking hands, trying to cover her exposed skin. To cover thighs that she wanted to have touched so badly only a moment ago.

"I should go," she blinked a few times to collect her thoughts.

"Easy, darling," Kamilah was astonished by this unexpected shift. "I assure you, I won't bite," her appearance showed unusual for her concern.

But Amy was already moving back, making her steps to the way out.

She felt so stupid.

So reckless.

"I..." she couldn't find the right words.

So she chose to say nothing, walking out of the room in a hurry. Vanishing like a scared teenager.

Leaving the woman in her office completely alone.

"That was... unexpected," Kamilah said out loud, pouring herself a glass of gin.

***

A piercing scream signaled her destination.

The well-known scent of blood teased her nostrils, leading toward the source.

After barely a moment, she found herself standing between the buildings of the village, looking at the scene through the window from afar. She heard the faint heartbeat of the woman in labor, growing weaker with every passing second.

"There's no point in saving her, fools," the vampire muttered to herself, ready to turn around.

But something inside her broke.

The feeling remained for barely one short second, obligating her to save this family. Like she owed it to the man that she left behind in the forest.

Without thinking any longer, she used her vampire speed to get inside the building.

To move among people gathered around her target as if she was a ghost. A nothingness that left behind only a gust of wind that was immediately blamed on the open window.

She moved quickly enough to cut her wrist with one of her fangs, letting a few drops of it leak inside a bottle placed on the desk. Poisoning the purity of the water with a deep shade of red.

Just to disappear soon after into the darkness like the shadow that should have never left it.

The vampire ran fast, distancing herself from the place before she could feel the regret inside her chest. Repressing the disappointment in herself because she just broke the most important rule that all of them had sworn to obey.

Humans should never, under any circumstances, feed on vampires' blood.

Maybe if she stayed there a little bit longer, she would know that her efforts were in vain. Despite all the power her blood contained, it was not enough to save the woman. Her heart was too weak to survive the labor.

It stopped beating, just to leave the village and the forest around it with the burden of silence.

But at that moment, the peace of the night was disturbed one last time with a sound of hope.

Weeping of a newborn.

---------------------

Next chapter: 4

---------------------

tag list: @evexofxtime @kamilah-is-queen @ariaminsinclair @helpconfusedpersonhere @ayushixo @nydeiri @vonda-b-real

#choices fanfiction #bloodbound fics #kamilah sayeed #kamilah choices #kamilah x mc #bb kamilah #vampires #f|f fic #w|w fic #w|w writing #an #smut #choices stories you play #bloodbound #business fic #kamilah sayeed fic

69 notes · View notes

secretlanguageicanspeak · 4 years

Text

I HAVE A FOLKLORE THEORY

what if the actual fantasy element of folklore is specifically the events that occur in at the end of betty?? as in, james was with someone else that summer despite loving betty, but instead of going back to betty and showing up to her party, james chose the more mature option of not going back to betty because they both knew how it would end, they’ve seen this movie before... cardigan/betty/august are fictional because they exist in an imagined reality, different from the other songs on the album.

disclaimer: (i believe james represents taylor and her role in this story, but it is up to speculation so i’ll just stick with speaking about james as the character in folklore,, james’s gender doesn’t really matter to me since it is a character, but i’ll use he/him pronouns for the sake of this post)

the 1 (betty’s pov):

“I guess you never know, never know”

...[what would have happened if you came back]

“And if you wanted me, you really should've showed”

see betty: “So I showed up at your party...” -- james didn’t end up showing, this did not happen

“And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow”

see cardigan: “You drew stars around my scars / But now I'm bleedin'” and “I knew you / Tried to change the ending / Peter losing Wendy” -- in the alternate reality, betty was the only one bleeding, so she grew because of it, and that’s why she is Wendy. james never bled, so james was Peter who never grew up.

see peace: “Our coming-of-age has come and gone” -- this line suggests that they BOTH in fact grew up (OUR coming-of-age), so neither of them could be Peter. -- “Suddenly this summer, it's clear / I never had the courage of my convictions / As long as danger is near” -- the summer is the same season as the love triangle setting, another sign it’s the same people. these lines depict james essentially backing down from something he really wanted to do out of fear. this seems to be a reference the decision NOT to go to betty’s party last minute, even after planning for months.

“And it's alright now”

this is simply acceptance of the situation, they have separated for good.

betty (lead up to the party):

...About why you switched your homeroom... Betty, one time I was riding on my skateboard... You heard the rumors from Inez... The worst thing that I ever did / Was what I did to you

pay attention here to the tense usage in verse 1 and the pre-chorus. clearly all the statements in these stanzas are in the past and happen during the summer james was with someone else or between then and now.

But if I just showed up at your party Would you have me? Would you want me? Would you tell me to go fuck myself Or lead me to the garden? In the garden, would you trust me If I told you it was just a summer thing? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything But I know I miss you

in looking at the lyrics of the chorus, it is clear here that we’re still in the ‘lead up’ phase. james is DAYDREAMING the possibilities of what could happen *IF* he just showed up at betty’s party.

Betty, I know where it all went wrong Your favorite song was playing From the far side of the gym I was nowhere to be found I hate the crowds, you know that Plus, I saw you dance with him

in verse 2, james is recounting another event which he claims to have led to him doing “the worst thing that [james] ever did,” betraying betty. it is clearly serving as a background story that occurred a long time ago. the “dance” with “him” is very likely the same story as in the first lines of exile, “I can see you standing, honey / With his arms around your body”

I was walking home on broken cobblestones Just thinking of you when she pulled up like A figment of my worst intentions She said "James, get in, let's drive" Those days turned into nights Slept next to her, but I dreamt of you all summer long

the bridge is simply a continuation of the story begun in verse 2. james left the dance after seeing betty with “him.” on his way home, he runs into “her” who i’ll call august, and then their summer affair begins. again, this is long in the past now.

betty (verse 3):

Betty, I'm here on your doorstep

this line appears to be referencing the same moment as this is me trying: “And maybe I don't quite know what to say / But I'm here in your doorway” however, in this is me trying, which is the main/real plot line, james just says, “I just wanted you to know that this is me trying.” with other clues from that song, this statement means james is trying his best to move on and mature in life, catch up with his classmates after the huge setback of losing betty.

i believe james is trying, although struggling, to accept the end of this relationship forever because of his actions. the line “I didn't know if you'd care if I came back / I have a lot of regrets about that” suggests the ‘regrets’ are because james chose to not come back because he assumed, possibly wrongfully, that she didn’t want him to. (i discuss the bridge of this is me trying after finishing verse 3 interpretation)

And I planned it out for weeks now But it's finally sinkin' in Betty, right now is the last time I can dream about what happens when You see my face again

these lines, in my opinion, best showcased the idea in peace’s first verse as discussed earlier: “Suddenly this summer, it's clear / I never had the courage of my convictions / As long as danger is near.” the fact this feeling of anticipation and nervousness ahead of the reunion with betty required an entire verse to communicate shows exactly how intense the feelings are.

The feelings may be internal or external pressures (societal standards and injustices, being in the public eye, and more) which create anxiety in a person. in the rest of the first verse of peace, she reveals the danger is “just around the corner, darlin' / 'Cause it lives in me,” supporting the idea that these fears and anxieties are a part of taylor’s/james’s psyche regardless of the cause of them. the second verse of this is me trying begins with “They told me all of my cages were mental / So I got wasted like all my potential,” which is also consistent with the idea that anxieties are the root of big mistakes.

this is me trying (bridge):

And it's hard to be at a party when I feel like an open wound

aversion to parties/crowds is similar to verse 2 in betty, another indication it is the same people/events. feeling like an open wound is a callback to the 1, “And if you never bleed, you're never gonna grow” and betty saying she’s “bleeding” in cardigan, “You drew stars around my scars / But now I'm bleedin'.”

this connection is very important because it proved, as i noted from peace, that BOTH betty and james ended up bleeding, contrary to the accounts in cardigan. BOTH of them were forced by circumstances to accept their permanent separation. therefore, the events in betty didn’t go as they seemed.

It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town

james is missing betty intensely, just like in betty. the movie comparison brings in several songs to the same general story (in tracklist order):

the 1: “I hit the Sunday matinée / You know the greatest films of all time were never made” -- during a daytime film viewing, betty remarks that no films she could watch would ever be the GREATEST. as a parallel to a later lyric, “We never painted by the numbers, baby / But we were making it count / You know the greatest loves of all time are over now,” we know betty thinks of this love story as the greatest of all time, even though it’s over.

cardigan: “I knew you / Tried to change the ending / Peter losing Wendy” i already discussed these lines above, but again the idea that james was unsuccessful in the attempt get back together with betty. james had to become Wendy too, and grow up and move on.

exile: “I think I've seen this film before / And I didn't like the ending” the constant comparison of this relationship to tragic films feeds the idea that the relationship was doomed from the start. in cardigan, james tries to change the ending in the hope that love will prevail over all. but in the more grounded reality of folklore such as exile, the pair are hyperaware of how that ending will inevitably happen too them too. “I think I've seen this film before / So I'm leaving out the side door,” so it was time to end it.

hoax: “You knew the hero died so what's the movie for?” here, it is almost a regret about beginning the relationship at all. it was obvious what the ending would be, they’ve seen this film before...but that doesn’t stop them from pursuing it anyways and trying to change the ending for themselves. with a different ending, it would be the greatest film of all time. this is why “Don't want no other shade of blue but you / No other sadness in the world would do” -- this love, although it is a tragedy, is the greatest. and nothing else is good enough.

betty (final):

The only thing I wanna do Is make it up to you So I showed up at your party Yeah, I showed up at your party

the final pre-chorus reads like the beginning of a Disney movie or a folk tale even, almost as a “Once upon a time, there was a boy named James with one goal and it was to make up for his mistakes....” there should be an ellipsis (“...”) after the second line, creating a divide as the music begins to change and the story moves from reality to fantasy. the key change in the music confirms the transition to an imagined world where fears and anxieties and pressures didn’t get in the way of the greatest love of all time.

Yeah, I showed up at your party Will you have me? Will you love me? Will you kiss me on the porch In front of all your stupid friends? If you kiss me, will it be just like I dreamed it? Will it patch your broken wings? I'm only seventeen, I don't know anything But I know I miss you

typically, if a story is leading up to a character finally making a move, there is a payoff for the audience, revealing what ended up happening. in this case, it is still questions. it is still james brainstorming possibilities, still using the word “if.” the chorus concludes with the same “i know i miss you,” which doesn’t suggest any real progress from the beginning because there has to be distance still if james is still missing betty. however, the “would”s changed to “will”s, leading the listener to think james actually did manage to show up, maybe the fantasy is even fooling james himself.

Standing in your cardigan Kissin' in my car again

these lines in the outro of betty have a double meaning: james is either in a haze from happiness because of the reunion with betty or is dreaming about these things happening.

in cardigan, she sings: “To kiss in cars and downtown bars / Was all we needed” THESE LINES ALSO HAVE A DOUBLE MEANING: “all we needed” can both signal relief from the tension, as in, kissing again solved all their problems from before, OR it means “that was all we needed to fix us,” as in, we couldn’t or didn’t kiss in these places, so we’re exactly where we started: a romantic tragedy. this means the downtown bar is likely the party or a symbolic equivalent.

The first meaning of both of those lines was the one that occurred within the fictional/fantasy world. The second meaning, is the reality of what happened because JAMES ENDED UP NOT SHOWING UP TO THE PARTY.

Stopped at a streetlight You know I miss you

the “streetlight” seems to be significant imagery here. in cardigan, “But I knew you / Dancin' in your Levi's / Drunk* under a streetlight” -- this might be a spot of a fond memory that is triggered for james while he is driving by it, reminiscing on that time.

also not on folklore, but in cornelia street, “We were in the backseat / Drunk* on something stronger than the drinks in the bar / The streetlights pointed in an arrowhead / Leading us home.” this cornelia street line seems to be describing a very similar story as cardigan. if so, this supports the idea that james was driving by this streetlight, the location of a very happy memory, and it makes him remember how much he misses her.

the repetition of “i miss you” here makes it clear james never was successful in getting back this love with betty. and betty knows he misses her: “I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired”

I knew you'd miss me once the thrill expired And you'd be standin' in my front porch light And I knew you'd come back to me You'd come back to me And you'd come back to me And you'd come back

the fade out in this last chorus also seems to have implies ellipses after each “you’d come back” line because just like the final pre-chorus of betty, there is a hopeful fantasy here. almost like “you’d come back ... you’d come back to me... right?” but as we know from this is me trying, the only communication was that james is trying his best to move on and to be more mature. betty knows it is for the best.

IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR, YOU’RE A TROOPER OMG THIS WAS MUCH LONGER THAN ANTICIPATED I’M SO SORRY. I HOPE YOU ENJOYED. IF YOU HAVE ANY COMMENTS, PLEASE SHARE THEM ILYYY. @taylorswift @taylornation

#taylor swift #taylorswift #folklore #folklore theories #folklore theory #taylor nation #taylornation #taylurking #folklore analysis #betty #betty analysis

55 notes · View notes

thirteenisles · 4 years

Text

Can’t Say We’re Friends | 9

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reached out to me about my brother, he’s doing better, but I am still taking a semi-hiatus as of now just until things get better. I didn’t want to leave you hanging, so I am posting the chapter now. I will try to get something out Monday, but no guarantees with how things are at the moment. Like I said, family is more important. Anyway, Call it, a moment(s) you’ve been waiting for or is it?

Warnings: Soft!Tito, a date, a confession(?), and +18 smut.

Word Count: 3.1K

Mornings usually meant practice, but this morning Anthony was grateful to lie in late and wake up naturally without the sound of a blaring alarm. With his spot secure on the team, he got a call late last night informing him to take a maintenance day and enjoy the time off before the season started on Friday. He stretches out, before throwing on a pair of joggers and heads downstairs and is greeted by the smell of coffee. Walking into the kitchen he spots Evelyn there, wearing one of his old hockey club shirts as a pajama shirt, leaning against the counter sleepily as she waits to pour her favorite liquid gold.

“Good morning,” Anthony calls out, chuckling when she near jumps out of her skin.

“Jesus!” Evelyn places her hand over her heart, “Beau, I thought you weren’t home.” She rubs at her face and turns to him, “Don’t you have practice?”

“No, maintenance day. My spot is secured on the roster, so I’m off until Friday’s games or other practices.”

Making her way over to him, she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him tightly, “I knew you would, you’ve been working so hard.”

He hugs her back, smiling, “Thanks love, what coffee are you making by the way? It smells incredible.”

“Kings Coast Coffee. I ordered some online, figured I’d give it a try.” The machine beeps to let them know it’s finished, “Let’s try it out, eh?”

Sitting in their little breakfast bar, sipping on delicious coffee, Anthony and Evelyn catch up after a few weeks of missing out on one another’s lives. The two of them have been passing ships, pleasantries exchanged as they pass by each other as one comes home and the other leaves. Evelyn’s personal styling business was beginning to take off more and she has been busy with clients and fashion week. Anthony had been working hard to secure his spot and show he deserves this two-year extension on the team.

“Don’t worry about cleaning up, I got it, I know you have work,” Anthony tells her, taking their plates to the sink. They decide to make breakfast together, whipping up something easy so the clean-up wouldn’t be as bad.

“I took off for the day, it’s been hectic, and I needed a break,” Evelyn states, clearing off the table.

He smiles, “Now when was the last time you and I actually had a day off together?”

She hums, “Probably when I took off days to watch you guys sweep the penguins.”

“Damn, it’s been a minute hasn’t it?”

“Well besides our crazy summer, then yes, yes it has been.”

They get to work on cleaning the kitchen and share dish duty, Anthony washes while Evelyn dries. Sure, they have a dishwasher to do all that work, but for some reason, it was a lot more fun to do when they did chores together.

Feeling a bit mischievous, Anthony turns the hose on and quickly blips a spray of water at Evelyn, howling when she gasps and looks at him with wide eyes. Calling him an asshole, she reaches into the sink and grabs a handful of suds and slaps it right in the middle of his chest. After he declares war, it ends with them covered in more bubbles then the dishes in their sink and the two of them lying on the kitchen floor and laughing.

“So, serious question. Since we both have no plans, how about we go out and do something tonight.” Realizing he had an opportunity to finally make a move he hopes she obliges.

“I’d love that. I can’t remember the last time we spent time together over dinner.”

He flips over onto his stomach to get a better look at her and pushes her soapy hair out of her face, “How does Prime sound? That restaurant in Huntington. I remember you were telling me about that a while ago.” Anthony loves the way her eyes light up.

“I’ve been dying to try that place. It’s right on the water and the food is delicious according to YELP and people I’ve spoken too.”

“So, date night for the two of us.” He stands up, extending his hand to help her up as well, “So I’ll pick you up at five and tonight I’ll wine and dine you.”

Laughing, she flicks some bubbles off of his cheek, “We live together how are you going to pick me up?”

“Shh, babe,” he presses two fingers to her lips, “You’re ruining the moment.”

Five o’clock sharp, Anthony arrives back home with a bouquet of Evelyn’s favorite flowers. He heads upstairs to her room, stopping in the half bath to make sure he looks good, before knocking on her door. Now, he’s always found Evelyn to be beautiful, no matter what she is wearing, but tonight as she stands before him, Anthony is at a loss for words. With his jaw on the floor, the only thing he can do is admire her as she stands before him dressed up. He swallows thickly, he can’t take his eyes off of her.

She gives him a twirl and a nervous smile, “Is it not good? You’re looking at me funny.”

He quickly shakes his head, “No, no, babe, you look……you look incredible.”

The corners of her mouth upturn as her cheeks turn pink, “Thank you, Beau,” she pauses for a moment before stepping in front of him. He gets a whiff of her perfume, his favorite on her, as her hands reach out to fix his tie. Anthony watches her intently, as she completely redoes it, smiling at her when she gives him one of her bright beautiful smiles.

“Much better! Now your outfit is complete. You look very handsome by the way.” Now it was his turn to blush.

“Thanks, and see, this is why I have you pre-tie my ties. I couldn’t do it without you.”

“YouTube does exist and you’re a lot smarter than you think, I bet you’d be able to do it no problem.”

“Where’s the fun in that when I have you?”

“Sap.” She gently smacks his chest and he takes her hand and presses a kiss to her knuckles, before presenting her with the flowers.

“Beau…” even though there aren’t tears in her eyes yet, he can hear the thickness in her voice, and the watery smile she gives him, “You didn’t have to get me flowers.”

“Of course, I did. Flowers for my best girl.”

The watery smile stays as they walk downstairs so Evelyn could put them in a vase before they go. With a few minutes to collect his thoughts, Anthony goes over his own game plan in terms of how tonight was going to go. Tonight, was the night. Tonight, he’d tell Evelyn how he feels about her and end this back and forth nonsense once and for all.

Prime was as incredibly intimate and romantic as all the reviews said it would be. In the far corner, they have a perfect view of the harbor from their seats. Evelyn has had this giddy grin on her face from the moment they stepped into this restaurant. He orders them a nice bottle of white as soon as they’re seated, and he smiles brightly at her.

“You look happy.”

“I am. I’m with you.”

There’s nothing more to say as the waiter returns and pours them each a glass. Anthony makes a toast, to their friendship and to her, but his small proclamation goes over her head, but he notices the small smile she gives him over her glass. They share a bowl of parmesan-white truffle gnocchi for an appetizer and then Anthony gets the salmon dish while Evelyn gets a smoked duck dish. The food is out of this world, cooked to perfection, and they end up switching plates halfway through.

With their bellies full they decide to skip dessert and Anthony pays the check before suggesting they take a walk down to the marina. They pass a bakery on the opposite street that Evelyn mentions she wants to stop by before they leave so they could have dessert at home. As they slowly walk down the sidewalk, enjoying the last bit of summer, Anthony reaches down and gently takes Evelyn’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers, he smiles when she gives his hand a squeeze.

Bathed in the beautiful light of the sunset, Evelyn looks out to the water while Anthony watches her. Feeling his eyes on her she tugs him closer and rests her head on his chest as they both stare out to the harbor.

“Hey, Evelyn.”

“Hm?”

“You know you’re my best friend, right?”

She pulls back slightly to look up at him as he says, “Yes, I know. And you are mine.”

Anthony grabs both of her hands in his, running his thumbs over her knuckles, he takes a deep breath, “No, I mean you really are my best friend. There is no one out there that is like you, Evelyn. I’m so grateful to have you in my life. You’ve been my biggest supporter throughout the years and even during stupid mistakes and petty fights you and I have gotten through it all. But there is something I really need to get off my chest and tell you, because I know I haven’t been fair the past few months.”

His heart feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest, he takes several deep breaths trying to calm down enough to say it. Evelyn squeezes his hands, “It’s ok, it’s just me, you know you can tell me anything, Beau.”

“I know I can, that’s what makes this so easy and so difficult at the same time.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” She chuckles, standing closer to him, her eyes meeting his.

“Evelyn- I lo-“

He’s cut off as her phone buzzes a few times, but he decides to ignore it. He swallows thickly, gathering his courage again, “Evelyn, I-“ and once more her phone goes off, buzzing in her bag.

She quickly drops his hands and reaches down into her bag, not even bothering to look at it for too long as she shuts it off and throws it back into her bag, “Nothing important, just Eric updating me on our fundraiser.” Evelyn takes Anthony’s hands in her hands once again and smiles, “Now, what is it you wanted to tell me, I can tell it’s more important than anything else”

The mere mention of Eric’s name is enough to crush any confidence he had about telling her. So instead he gives her a tight smile, struggling, “Well, it’s just- you should know how absolutely beautiful you look in that dress. I know you’ve worn that before, but it’s one of my favorites on you.”

“Oh….thank you.”

Their hands drop to their sides and he avoids her eyes and he misses the look of disappointment that flashes across Evelyn’s face. There’s an awkward silent tension between the two of them before Evelyn asks if they can go home and not even bringing up dessert can bring a smile back to her face.

The next day they try to pretend that the almost confession never happened. It was always a step backward instead of forwards. Anthony leaves for practice early one morning, with Derick not far behind, and Evelyn has the house to herself.

She busies herself with chores before she starts her day, but her mind is elsewhere, thinking about the other night with Anthony. She was deluding herself into thinking he had feelings for him and blamed Derick for making her believe that in the first place. She can’t lie though; she was hoping that maybe that is what was going to happen and wonders what would have happened if he had done so. As she progresses in her chores, so do her thoughts, and she gives up and heads up to her room.

The fact that she was even thinking these types of thoughts about Anthony was enough to have her completely flustered, but she can’t ignore how he makes her go hot. Huffing, she shuffles out of her pajama shorts and lays in bed, biting her lip as her eyes flutter shut, letting her daydream fully manifest.

Derick gets out of practice early and stops at the house to grab his overnight bag before he heads out to New Jersey. The house is unusually quiet, he would have expected Evelyn to be on the phone, but her office is empty. He heads up to his bedroom and grabs his bag, but as he’s leaving his room, he freezes when he exists, hearing a whimper come from Evelyn’s bedroom. He turns and starts walking towards her room wondering if something is wrong. As he approaches her door, which is slightly ajar, but he immediately backs away when she moans loudly. Both stunned and embarrassed, he’s quick to quietly rush down the stairs, but he makes sure the slam the front door as he leaves.

A couple of days later, Anthony has finished getting dressed in his game-day suit, about to leave for tonight’s game. After struggling with his tie for the third time, he walks from his room right to Evelyn’s. He isn’t thinking as he opens the door and walks right in and immediately regrets it; bent over and her underwear wrapped around her thighs, Evelyn gasps, quickly covering herself. Anthony slaps his hand over his eyes and exists the room, his face a deep red color as he blurts out an apology, he’s just going to grab a clip-on for tonight. It’s not until a few awkward apologies later as she makes him a late lunch, he finds himself staring at her backside as she bends over to pick something up. It’s inappropriate to being be staring at her in such a way, but through her thin yoga pants, he realizes that she’s, in fact, wearing a g-string and he struggles to hold back a whimper because it was so damn hot.

“You good?” She’s caught him red-handed, eyebrow cocked as she gives him a weird look.

He laughs nervously, “Yeah- sorry, totally spaced out there.”

After the game, Anthony is lying in bed, failing to stop thinking about Evelyn. He groans as he keeps picturing her bent over, pussy exposed, that filthy white g-string, wrapped around her thigs. He’s never really pictured Evelyn naked before, but his joggers are growing uncomfortably tight as he pictures her in full lingerie just for him.

She was going to be the death of him, he swore.

“Beau…. Beau wake up. “Evelyn calls out to him.

He grumbles, clutching his pillow a little tighter as a melodic laugh leaves her lips. Suddenly he’s on his back and opens his eyes, now he’s awake as his jaw goes slack staring up at her. Her hair is pulled in a high ponytail, lips deep red as a cherry, a lacy barely there bra and that flimsy white g-string she dares called underwear. Straddling his hips, she’s got a smirk on, dragging her fingernails down his bare chest. He swallows thickly, watching her intently as she leans down and presses a kiss to his jawline, leaving her mark.

Her hand slips down and under his joggers, fingernails just grazing along his cock, and he whimpers her name. She smiles dangerously, tongue peeking out and gives him a cheeky wink as she wraps her hand around him, stroking him slowly. Anthony throws his head back and Evelyn leaves down, leaving little love bites along the side of his neck as she continues her slow strokes, thumbing the tip every once in a while.

When she decides he’s hard enough for her liking, she sits up and removes his joggers off of him, throwing them to the floor before she crawls towards him and gets between his spread thighs.

“Fuck, Evelyn, what are you doing to me?”

She just giggles, pressing a kiss to his inner thigh before dragging her tongue along the underside of his cock. He hisses, propping up on his elbows to watch her, her eyes meeting his as her slender fingers wrap around him again and she kitten licks the tip of him. Biting his lip, he keeps eye contact with him as she slowly takes him in her mouth, lining him with rings of red, before her pretty eyes flutter shut and that lipstick starts to smear.

“Fuck.” He falls back onto the bed, his hand reaching out to wrap her hair in his fist, but he lets her do all the work.

He wonders where the hell she learned to do this as she has his toes curled in the comforter, fisting at her hair, a moaning mess. Her tongue pressed to the underside of him as she hallows out her cheeks taking as much of him in her mouth as she can, her hand twisting and making up for what she can’t fit. He grunts, thrusting his hips up, and he both hears and feels as she gags around him. He mutters out an apology but gasps out her name, when she takes him further, gagging on him again.

She suddenly pulls off, breathing heavily, and the sight alone has his cock twitching in her hand. Her lipstick is smeared all to one side of her cheek and her face and chest are equally flushed pink. Evelyn winks, twisting her hand again, hand moving up and down his cock in quick strokes.

“You gonna cum for me?” She sounds absolutely wrecked and he can only nod, so close. “Want it all over me…”

Anthony wakes with a strangled gasp, warmth filling his boxers, laying there panting for air.

Holy shit, he thinks to himself, he’s never dreamt of Evelyn like that before, nor has he ever had a dream that hot before. He gives himself a few moments to collect himself and wake up before he gets out of bed and he decides to use the bathroom down the hall, holding his underwear. What he doesn’t expect is to open the door and see Evelyn in there in just a towel, how could have he had forgotten that the master bathroom had a plumbing issue, and they both just stare at one another with wide eyes and red cheeks.

“Jesus Christ!” They both see Derick standing there, “first her with the door and now you- with this?!” He walks back to his room, “I am WAY too old for this shit!” and slams his door shut.

Slowly, their eyes meet again, staring awkwardly at one another.

#anthony beauvillier #tito beauvillier #anthony beauvillier imagine #tito beauvillier imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #new york islanders #nyi #cswf

79 notes · View notes

coffeecomicsgalore · 4 years

Text

Chasing Feelings

Plagg comforts Adrien and Chat comforts Marinette.

Ao3

Day 5: Comfort

Adrien spent most of the afternoon staring at the computer screen mindlessly scrolling through social media. His homework sat idly on the table beside him, half-filled answers written in between the three subjects of homework that needed to be completed by tomorrow. He sighed heavily. His mind erratic with thoughts trying to understand why his mind had malfunctioned all day.

First it was with Nino and Kim, which caused quite a teasing from them. Then it was with Alya after he walked in to the classroom holding her hand. Then Chloe had to be Chloe and cause such a scene. Alix and Nathaniel eyed him the rest of the day, mocking him with kitten eyes whenever he turned their way.

Finally, there was Marinette. She was so adorable with her constant blush. And the little flirting she did earlier? The kiss on the cheek? Grabbing his hand? Where did that all come from? Why was he so flustered all of a sudden?

“I can hear you think.” Mumbled Plagg from his spot on the couch.

“Sorry, Plagg.”

“Kit. Why are you moping?"

“Do you really want to know?”

“Not really but if you don’t talk about it, you’re just going to sit there all afternoon doing that, and it’s cutting into my cheese date.”

Adrien spun his chair around, leaning his head against the headrest. “I thought I was in love with Ladybug. I mean, I still am, but I know she will never want anything more than a friendship. But is Marinette more than just a friend to me? I value her so much more than that, but is it fair? Is it like I’m making her out as second best?”

Plagg floated up to his chosen and sat on his shoulder. “Listen, I know you want Ladybug to love you the way you love her, but do you think there is any reason she would change?” Adrien shook his head dejectedly. “You seem to really like Marinette. You bought her flowers, held her hand, hugged her, protected her from Lila the other day and Chloe today. You even asked her to play a duet with you out of nowhere, which sounded like a date by the way, until you decided to say ‘as friends’ which only made her sound sad. At least that’s how I heard it through your shirt.”

Adrien sat up almost knocking Plagg off his shoulder. “I did make it sound like a date, didn’t I? Then I took it back! I can’t believe I messed that up.”

“Are you saying that you want to take Marinette out on a date?”

A ding rang on his computer and he turned to see what it was. It was a notification on one of the social media sites where Marinette posted a picture of a dress she was in the middle of designing. It was a gorgeous red steampunk dress with a corset top. It had some black lace in several parts of the corset and there looks to be something forming where the skirt and top meet. Adrien cooed before liking the photo and commenting how amazing it’s already turning out. When he turned around, remembering he had left mid conversation yet again, he saw a scowling kwami floating in front of him with his arms crossed.

Adrien shrunk into his chair, looking sheepishly at him.

“And you were saying?” Plagg said in irritation.

“Okay. Okay. Maybe I want to take her out on a date. Maybe I like her more than a friend. Maybe I have feelings for her. But it still doesn’t make me feel good knowing that I’m going after her since I can’t be with Ladybug.”

“Just because you still love Ladybug, doesn’t mean you can’t love someone else. How does Marinette make you feel? Is there a difference between how Ladybug makes you feel and how Marinette makes you feel?”

Adrien pondered a moment. Ladybug has this fierceness about her that takes his breath away. She’s strong, courageous, and willing to do whatever it takes for Paris. Her giggles when she enjoys one of his puns, her eyes shine like sapphires when she figures out her lucky charm, and her kindness when mistakes happen – all those parts of her make his heart soar whenever they are together.

Marinette was also just as fierce. She handles so much on her plate with being the class representative, running her own online store, dealing with Chloe and Lila, trying to make sure that everyone is involved in one way or another, helping out her family in the bakery... and then she’s got eyes that are as blue as the ocean; it makes you want to dive in and soak in it. And her laugh, her cute blush, she’s so creative and perfect, and when she gets excited, she has this adorable butt wiggle, and whenever she gets excited or nervous her words go a million miles a minute and stumbles on her words, and... and...

It hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Plagg?” Adrien said slowly and with hesitation, his eyes wide with realization. “I think. I think I really like her.”

Plagg smirked. “Not sure which girl you’re talking about, kit.”

“I think I’m in love with Marinette.”

-----

Marinette sighed as she placed her sketchbook down on her chair. She curled herself up as she wrapped her arms around her legs and tugged on her pant leg to fix the bunching that was irritating her calf. Tikki noticed her chosen’s dismay, zipping from the potted plant that was sitting in the sun.

“Marinette?”

“Hmm?” She mumbled without looking.

“Are you okay? I thought that this was what you were waiting for?”

Marinette sat and looked sullen. Tikki wasn’t wrong; she has been waiting for Adrien to notice her since the day she fell in love with him. Yes, she loved every second of Adrien holding her hand, protecting her from Chloe, hugging her when the tears started to flow, and asking her to do a duet with him, but it seems like the only thing he wants from it is to remain friends. At least that’s what he said today. And if that’s any confirmation of how he views them together, then why should she continue.

“He only did that as a friend, Tikki. You heard him. Yeah, he said my voice sounded great, but when he asked me to sing alongside him, it sounded like he wanted to ask me out, like a date, but then he said ‘as friends’,” she mocked his voice as she air quoted, “and he ran out of there all flustered. How am I supposed to feel about that? I seriously don’t even know how to process this.”

Marinette started to sniffle, holding back the tears that were threatening to spill over. “Why would I ever be so dumb to think that Adrien would even like me that way. And then on top of it, I’ve been turning down the one boy that I know loves me all because my heart belongs to Adrien.” She rubbed her eye with the back of palm. The tears had finally broken through and trickled down her face. “It’s stupid. It’s foolish of me to ever think I could love someone who loves me back for me. Because no matter which way I turn, I end up being too late.”

She buried her face into her arms as they relaxed on her knees and sobbed until she couldn’t cry anymore. Tikki sat quietly beside her chosen, watching out for any akumas that may be heading for her. Tikki then felt a presence, turning over and hiding when she caught a glimpse of who lurked on the roof.

“Marinette?” Chat questioned with panic as he jumped down to her balcony. “Marinette? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?”

Marinette continued to cry, nodding a yes, no, no to his questions. Without hesitating, Chat pulled Marinette from her spot and wrapped his arms around her tightly. He shushed a calming noise in her ear and he clawed soothing strokes in her untied hair, waiting until the hiccups turned to soft breaths and the last of the sobs were leveled out to quiet tears. When Marinette was ready, she pulled herself away from Chat, sniffling into her palm as Chat pulled a tissue from his hand. Marinette graciously accepted it.

“I’m sorry, Chat. You didn’t have to do that. I’m just a mess right now.”

Marinette apologizing for crying? “No. No, princess. Please don’t apologize. Any reason to cry your feelings out is a good reason as any. I don’t know who did this to you, but I’m here if you need a shoulder to cry on. I can keep an eye out for akumas if you need to just let go for a bit. I’m here.”

Marinette lunged herself back into Chat’s arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed to cry right now.”

Chat wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly until she let go. “Do you want to talk about it?

She sniffled again. Could she talk about this to him? If her speculation was right and Adrien and Chat are one in the same, then he would figure it out in a heartbeat. But if he wasn’t, then maybe this could be a way for her to sort out her feelings. The feeling of fear started to creep back up her spine making her feel nauseous from the anxiety.

“Not really, Chat. I just had a rough and confusing day.” That would be enough to both intrigue him but not give away too much. “I just needed a good cry to sort out my feelings.”

Chat frowned and turned to the skyline. The blue haze from the day has now turned into a pink and purple mess with golden streaks throughout. “I’m sorry you had a rough day. I hope that if there is a ‘who’ in the mix that caused this, they realize that you crying is a catastrophe.”

Marinette chuckled at the pun which then made Chat smile. She decided to bite the bullet and take a chance at this. “There is this boy I like. I’ve mentioned him before. He’s so sweet, and caring, and he’s been so protective over me lately. I thought maybe, just maybe, he started feeling something towards me. Maybe I had my hopes up. Then he asked me to accompany him as he played his instrument, and I was so excited, until he added the dreaded ‘as friends’ line.” She paused for a moment, trying to stop the tears that were forming again. “I guess it’s just easier to say that it broke me a little.”

Chat looked at her in shock. He broke her spirit? She wanted it to be a date? She wants us to be more than friends? Oh god, I’m a jerk! I shouldn’t have added that line!

“Chat? Chat! What’s wrong?”

Chat shook his head. “Sorry, I didn’t expect you to tell me. You said you didn’t want to talk about it.” He rubbed his neck nervously. “What did he do after he said that?”

Marinette frowned as she recalled the moment. “He ran off.” She whispered so low that Chat had strained to hear her. “It made me think that everything he did today was all a mistake. I just had my hopes up. I‘m stupid enough to think that maybe he loved me too.”

She loved him? She loved him! Marinette Dupain-Cheng loves me, Adrien Agreste! And I love her too! Oh my gosh, this is the happiest day of my life. Wait, no. She’s so heartbroken! What am I going to do?

“You’re not stupid, Marinette. Don’t' settle yourself short. But maybe... do you think that he added it accidentally? Like maybe it was out of nervousness?

Marinette wiped the stray tear away and thought about it. “Maybe? I don’t know. He was a jumbled up mess. Maybe he didn’t mean to say it.” She started to perk up a smidgen. “I guess I’ll just wait and see tomorrow on how he acts towards me. Maybe I’ll just play it by ear. I don’t want to spook him or anything.”

“Why don’t you just message him? It’s still pretty early. Maybe he’s awake?”

“No. I won’t do that. I can’t do that. I’m already a hot mess whenever I’m around him. The last thing I need to do is try to sort out my feelings when I don’t know how he truly feels about me.”

“Maybe he’ll come around, Marinette. Just give him time.”

“Yeah, you’re right Chat. I will.” She pulled him into a hug. “Thank you for listening to me. But if you don’t mind, I need to get back inside before it gets too late. I have homework I couldn’t concentrate on that’s due tomorrow and I’m willing to bet that you have some yourself. Good night Chat.”

“Good night, Marinette.”

#Chasing Feelings #lovesquarefluffweek2020 #marichat #adrien x plagg #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #ml #ml fanfic #ml fanfiction

32 notes · View notes

i-guess-im-a-fanfic-writer-now · 5 years

Text

A better life (Chapter 3, Avengers x reader)

Chapter 3 is here! Please like if you enjoy this. Chapters 1 and 2 are on my blog if you haven’t read them yet. Also, if you enjoy this, please comment and/or reblog, it’s always appreciated and it’s honestly great when someone tells me if I made a mistake while writing, like maybe I repeated a thing several times in a sentence, maybe there’s a typo (although I usually take care of that within an hour of publishing a chapter/fanfic), maybe I just fucked a thing up, idk. Also, feedback, likes, and reblogs is how you’re gonna get the next chapter because it’s actually really nice to see that others are appreciating my content, and so far I’ve spent about 9 hours on the fanfic (I have chapter 8 started, I’m not even kind of done though), and while I am enjoying doing this, it’s always nice if people tell me how things I write make them feel.

Also, Clint is deaf. He signs 99.9% of the time and it’s easier to him, here at least. Please, please tell me if I fucked a thing up or if I wrote a thing and you have experienced the thing and know that’s not how the thing works.

Enjoy! Just to remind you, chapter 4 will be posted on July 30th, so there’s that! I’m not abandoning this fanfic until it’s done, as well. Edit: chapter 9 is out

Tw: bruises, shoulder grabbing, verbal abuse (words like pathetic, bitch, dumb), threat of physical abuse, implied (?) queerphobia, swearing

The man turned around to face you, Tony, and Peter. His hair was brown, and he honestly kind of looked like a sad puppy. When he came closer, you saw he also had hearing aids. You smiled.

When he began talking, you noticed that he pronounced his words very well. “Hey, guys. What’s up? I’m Clint Barton, by the way. Coffee enthusiast. Decent archer. You?” The two first sentences were the only ones not aimed at you specifically.

“This is Y/N. They’re my friend”, signed Peter.

Clint smiled at you. “Nice. So what are you all doing here?” He began signing too.

“Oh, they’re interested in archery. I thought I could introduce them to you, if you want to do this. I’m pretty sure that you two just knowing each other wouldn’t be bad, though”, Tony noticed.

Clint nodded and then looked at you. “Hold up, I get to teach you? I mean, I have done this before with my kids, so I guess I could. Sure. Yeah, let’s do this. You don’t have a bow or arrows, do you?”

You shook your head.

“Alright then, we have a few bows and a ton of arrows. Do you know anything about any of those, do you need some help choosing?”

“I’ve read about it, and I think a recurve bow would be great, and either fibreglass or aluminum arrows would do well with it. I just want to be able to handle the bow with either arm in either position”, you signed, unsure. You’d been learning sign language for a while now, but you never actually got to use it until now. At least with sign language, you couldn’t really stutter, but you did hesitate a lot.

“That’s actually a great choice, Y/N. You. I like you. Let’s go. Peter, Tony, unless you’ll be training with us, I’d suggest you get the shit out of here if you don’t want to get shot by an arrow.” You couldn’t tell if Clint was joking or not, but the two guys laughed and left the room, Tony holding the door open for Peter just as he did for you.

“Hey, uh, a thing. I just, I really admire you. You’re really awesome, and people don’t appreciate you as much as they should”, you signed to Clint, struggling to make eye contact. After Tony and Peter left, neither of you was actually speaking out loud.

“Aw, thank you. That means a lot to me”, he replied happily.

Clint led you to the bows and showed you which bow matched what you wanted, and he then showed you the arrows.

“So, would you like a demonstration and an explanation of how to handle a bow and an arrow, or do you want me to explain it and that’s it?”

“A demonstration would be great, if that’s okay.. thank you.”

Clint smiled and began. Every once in a while, he stopped to be able to show you how you should be positioned. “So, first, get you bow and your arrow. You’re gonna want to hold the bow itself with your non dominant hand, and you’ll be pulling the bowstring back with your dominant hand. Usually, anyway. You can practice vice versa as well, though it would take more time and effort at the beginning.”

“So first off, hold the bow with your non dominant hand, bowstring closer to your body, and your arm has to be over the bow, like that. You’re doing it! Then, you take your arrow and you nock it between the rubbery things on the string, and the front has to be on the arrow rest in front of the bow, while the bow is in this horizontal position. Precisely!”

“You have to hold the arrow with your bow holding hand so it doesn’t fall out while you do it. So then, you turn the bow back to its usual position and place one and two fingers on the rubbery things to pull the bowstring back. You’re gonna want to squeeze your fingers together to squeeze the arrow and keep it in place. Then you have to release the arrow from your bow holding hand, because your dominant hand is holding it on the string. You don’t want to hurt yourself when you shoot the arrow, right?”

“Aim, and release. Feel the arrow. Take your time.” And then he released his arrow, getting yet another bullseye. “Got it? If no, I can explain again, don’t worry about it, right? Oh, and don’t expect to be an expert immediately. It’ll take time.”

He sounded so sincere and kind. You nodded. “I think I got it. Thank you.”

You did exactly what he showed and you shot your first arrow. As you expected, you failed miserably, but you knew it wasn’t going to come fast. You just hoped Clint wouldn’t tease you about not getting it right.

“Hey, you’re doing great, kid. You haven’t shot anyone’s head off. Go ahead, get the arrow, and shoot it again. You can do it, but it’ll take practice.” He gently patted your shoulder and your body immediately froze solid. He must’ve noticed, because he immediately took his hand back.

You signed an apology and restarted the exercise. You hadn’t even noticed how two hours passed by, and it was already 5:16. You were having so much fun shooting arrows that you’d almost forgotten that you’d have to go back again. Tomorrow was Saturday. You were hoping you could get out and stay at Stark Tower the entire day, but it probably wouldn’t happen. Your aim was getting a bit better though, and Clint was quite happy about it and kept encouraging you, which helped a lot.

“Hey, I’m really sorry, but I have to go. I might return tomorrow, I’m not really sure, but if I don’t, I’ll be back Monday. Thank you so much. This was great. I don’t know how to repay you for teaching me, I -“

“Y/N, just repay me by coming back. You owe me nothing though. There’s a lot of other things some of my old friends and I could teach you. Fighting styles. You seem like you could be good at that, if you want to do that, that is, alright?”

You nodded again and gathered your things, painfully noticing that a bruise was starting to form where your mother had grabbed your arm a few days ago. You put your other arm over it to cover it and headed out. You left the building and calmly began walking back to the apartment, revising everything you’d learnt today. You were fully intending to continue practicing archery, and you kind of wanted to see what Clint meant by “fighting”. You were willing to learn though. And for some reason, you trusted Clint, Peter, and Tony. You’d been spending a lot of time with them, and you loved it.

When you got back, you checked your watch: 5:53. Nice. This time should be okay. You quietly opened the entrance door, closing it and sliding past the other rooms like a ghost. Silently, you closed your room door. Once again, after a few minutes, you went back to your music, trying to ignore the fighting that had broken out in the living room, and the general screeching sound of your mother’s voice. You saw your empty mug on your table and decided to go make tea for the hell of it. You had to show your mother you were back or she would create an entire situation in her mind again and you’d be at fault for everything, as usual.

As soon as you appeared in the kitchen, the yelling was lowered to angry whispers, accusations, threats. How dare you this, how dare you that, how could you, you’re horrible, etc. Earphones still on your head, you turned up the volume a bit to block the noise out. It worked. You couldn’t hear anything but your loud music.

Suddenly, someone was grabbing your shoulder tightly and you could hear screaming over your music. You paused your music and took your headphones off, heart beating like crazy, your breathing barely normal, as your mother screamed at you about how you’re a disappointment, how you deserve to die, how you’re disgusting and worthless, saying “did I fail to raise you properly, what did I do wrong, did I raise you wrong”. You were terrified. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please explain”, you managed to get the courage to say.

“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID WRONG, YOU PATHETIC DUMB BITCH!”

You shut your eyes, suddenly getting a sharp headache. “I’m.. I’m sorry, I don’t, please -“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP. IF I HEAR ONE MORE WORD FROM YOU, YOU WILL NOT BE ABLE TO SIT DOWN FOR WEEKS.”

You went silent, regretting your existence for a few minutes. Your mother dragged you over to your room, and pointed at something that had the word “queer” on it. *Oh shit*, you thought. *Shit, I am so fucking stupid. Crap.* This was certainly not ideal. Your mother, and all your relatives were, to put it lightly, queerphobic as fuck. This was bad. *There’s no way I can get out of this one.*

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?! BRINGING THIS DISGUSTING BULLSHIT INTO OUR HOUSE.”

Your hands were shaking and you were barely breathing. Finally, she decided to let go off your shoulder and storm out of your room, loudly shutting the door behind her and causing you to flinch hard.

You quietly walked up to your door, shaking, and sat down next to the entrance to make sure she wouldn’t walk in on you crying, because that would make things even worse for you. After a while, you hid the object she had pointed out, and went to sleep. You fell asleep crying again, after thinking those days were over.

A few hours later, you woke up, covered in cold sweat, breathing hard, tears streaming down your cheeks again. You were exhausted and didn’t even move. You ignored reality for a few more hours until you fell back into a troubled sleep.

#avengers x reader #avengers x reader fanfic #avengers fanfiction #avengers fanfic #abused reader #avengers x abused!reader #fanfiction #fanfic #a better life chapter 3

60 notes · View notes

hecohansen31 · 5 years

Text

A Truly “Wicked” Plan:

Jim Mason+Reader

A/N: Hello there, lovelies!

It’s been an awful long time since I posted about my favorite ocean boy!

(Also for the fans of “Just Ride”, I am working on some angst about that fic, plus I low key want to write a very cute epilogue so you can all enjoy some sweetness...).

So here is a bit of a fake-dating AU, mixed with on of my favorite musicals, “Wicked”!

I honestly wanted it to be more on the musical at the start, but then this came out and although I know it isn’t perfect (I know that it might seem a bit rushed) I wanted to let out a bit of musical love.

Hope you’ll like it!

(Also before you go in, or meanwhile reading this I highly suggest to listen to this... or the entire “Wicked” soundtrack, you do you boo...)

(Feedback in any form, as long as it’s respectful, is very much welcome!)

Love you lovelies!

SUMMARY: Right when you get your perfect role in your favorite music, your long-time and annoying crush, Jim Mason, is casted to play your lover... which might turn out to be more interesting than what you might have thought...

WORDS: 4, 1 K.

WARNINGS: Just fluff, and musicals and mention of drug abuse!

She had always wished to play Elphaba in “Wicked”.

Not only because she had felt so similar to that character, but also she loved her parts and songs.

And whenever she had considered actually trying for anything musical-related she had found herself drifting to “For Good”, covering both Glinda and Elphaba’s parts, laughing at herself in her room.

So not only she had been fully overjoyed when her school had chosen “Wicked” as their annual musical, but the best part had been that she had been chosen to play Elphaba, since most of the girls had either tried for Dorothy or Glinda.

She had been just happy to wear that green paint and twirl around with a broom, no matter her shyness, no matter how uneasy she felt in big places.

But on the stage, with her dress and her broom, but most importantly… her voice, she could be anybody, even a cool person.

She had been deaf to any kind of insults or snicker thrown her away, too focused on her role, or at least this had been the route till they had casted Jim Mason as Fierro.

To say she had had a crush on Jim Mason since he had first come to Palos Verdes had been an underestimation of how much her little heart speeded up whenever he passed near her, and the way he laughed…

But she had seen the people he hanged out with, and she didn’t belong with them, so her chances to even catch his eyes were less than zero.

Well at least till they had to pretend to be lovers, sharing even a very emotional song, one of her favorites.

She had hoped that it wouldn’t be awkward in any kind of way.

But Jim had also made it very clear that he wasn’t there because he liked the musical, straight up messing up everything much to the amusement of his idiotic friends, not learning lines and not coming to their tryouts.

And she had tolerated it because she was a small fish in the chain of her high school, but she also had her own breaking point, which happened when she was trying the stage moves, just for Jimmy to bump into her with painting, making it all fall on her stage-dress.

It was an accident but she… lashed out on Jim.

“Why do you have to ruin anything?!” her words seemed to shpck him and he moved to apologize and to stop her from leaving, but she was full of embarrassment and pent-up anger “… don’t touch me! I honestly hate you! You shouldn’t be surprised that they casted you as a scarecrow without a brain!”.

As soon as she got in her car, the rage had been pushed away by shame, for the little show she had given everyone, clearly feeling she had overreacted, passing off as an hysteric woman, most of all because she had lashed out on poor Jim, right when all that had happened had been an accident.

So, she had decided to avoid try-outs for the rest of the day, going home and trying there Elphaba’s poses, meanwhile her mother tried to clean her dress.

The following day she had actually thought about avoiding going to school, not wanting to confront Jim and the others, but she had forced herself to, not wanting to miss anything due to her embarrassment.

She had to try things out, before confirming they weren’t working.

At school, nobody acted against her or did anything out of the ordinary, and she was actually surprised to see Jim standing by her usual seat, before English literature started, looking like he had had a pretty sleepless night, and she honestly thought about running away.

But he spotted her and smiled at her, trying to brighten the entire situation, even pushing himself up, from his cradled position.

She moved closer, to her desk, setting her backpack down on it, meanwhile he ruffled his hair, before adjusting them, finally facing her.

-I just wanted to say…- he started, but she swiftly stopped him, immediately wanting to apologize.

-…I am sorry for lashing out at you, yesterday, I am sorry… it’s the anxiety for the musical…- she wanted to move onto this thing fast so she could go back to being ignored, when Jim stopped her, grabbing gently her shoulders to make them straighten up and look him in the eyes.

-Hey hey, none of that, I was the one who fucked up…- his words made her melt, mostly because from the regret in his eyes he meant what he said-… I will pay for the dress, whether to get it cleaned or to get it sawn it again-.

-Jimmy it was an accident, don’t worry- she immediately caught upon on what she had said and he seems as surprised as her, before smiling brightly at her-… oh Gosh, I keep on being stupid… sorry-.

-You can call me Jimmy, all you want… you are the cutest- he patted her shoulder, before bringing her closer, getting her to screech, meanwhile he hugged her gently and immediately she felt wrapped in the pure warmth of happiness -… I am actually the one who should be sorry for having been a true “brainless scarecrow” to you, I swear I will take my role as prince Fierro seriously-.

Still wrapped in his arms, embarrassed almost as much as that time her top had come off, after she had jumped in her best friend’s swimming pool, she didn’t know how to react and mumbled up a few “mmmhhh”, “oh you are not” and “you have nothing to be sorry for”.

But Jim, kept on being stubborn and maintained his opinion, before releasing her and getting down on his knees, making her gasp louder.

(She was sure that a pretty crowd was watching them, but she avoided looking anywhere other than Jimmy’s eyes).

-I sweat on my knight’s honor I will avoid anything coming your way, paint or terrible acting, and take this role serious- he swore, as if he was seriously pledging his loyalty to her.

-Jim, please, get up, you are making a scene- she immediately covered her eyes, meanwhile Jim just laughed.

-C’mon, you know what you have to say- he prompted her, and she almost thought that he was trying to get back to her, through making fun of her.

But still she complied his order, although rolling her eyes, annoyed, at his childish, but cute, behavior.

-… oh, my courageous knight, I appreciate this, and I shall accept thy pledge- and he finally got up, before holding out his hand.

-Truce? – he asked her -I swear I will take this role seriously! -.

-Truce- she accepted his head, before looking at him seriously -…only if you come up an hour before for rehearsal, since you are pretty behind with your lines-.

Jimmy just smirked at her, before muttering something like “you are tougher than I expected”.

Well… he got a big storm coming.

Between her and Jim things started to get better, mostly because as soon as he started taking the entire thing seriously, he was pretty good as Fierro, and the chemistry between them was tangible.

Or at least it was what the musical director, Mrs Santana, had said when she and Jim had performed for the first time “As Long As You Are Mine”, without a single mistake.

Also, she had severely forbidden Jim to appear at rehearsal under the influence of anything and although it was sometimes hard, his hands getting tremors and sometimes is voice breaking, she had done her best to calm him down, strangely getting Jim to open up with her.

“Since he has left us…” he had once confessed to her, meanwhile they took a moment to breath outside, him smoking and her hiding in his jean jacket, since it had appeared to be colder than what she had foreseen, making her leave her jacket inside “… mom has gone crazy, and I just… feel like everything is pushed on my shoulder…”.

And she had hugged him, murmuring sweet nothings in his ear, calming him down, answering his worried calls in the middle of the night, no matter what, listening to what he had to say, before giving suggestions advice or just a nice word.

She had been there for him in order for him not to go back to his old habits.

Meanwhile she did his best to keep him from any toxic behavior her crush had developed into something different, more mature.

But she wasn’t sure about Jimmy’s feeling, mostly because he was going through so much at the moment and she didn’t want to push him into something, just because he felt in debt with her for her comfort.

So, she had tried to keep their friendship at bay, lighter than anything else.

She rejoiced whenever he called her “Elphi”, faking that she was offended for it, but her heart swelled every time he muttered it, or when she had seen him saving her number under that ridiculous nickname.

The day of the show, she was straight up panicking, but tried to keep it all in, smiling nervously at the other guys of the crew, meanwhile they waited for everyone to arrive; she had actually made a few friends with a few of her fellow stars.

The only person missing was Jimmy, and when he arrived, he seemed shocked, enough that she took him away to comfort him, before they went on the stafe.

“Is everything…?”

“My mom discovered about this entire thing and forbid me from coming here” he looked seriously close to having a panic attack “I had to fight with her… and I don’t want to go back home”.

“You can come and stay at my house” she proposed, knowing it wouldn’t bother her parents, mostly because after they had heard what had been going on with Jim, they had insisted to host the poor boy, on the worst nights.

“I need…” and he reached for his pocket, where he usually stored his drugs, something of his she had picked up over the course of events, but she stopped him, gripping his hands in hers, bringing them between them, and looking at him sternly in the eyes.

“No, you don’t need them”.

“… they will make me feel better” he mumbled, trying to lower his eyes, but she kept the eye-contact.

“For a few hours, then it will be worse, you know it!” she told him “…I know it is hard and I don’t expect you to believe me, but… Jimmy… there are better ways to get through this, and no matter what… it will get better, you have to believe me-.

Jim didn’t seem too convinced but he nodded, before bringing her in a bear hug and she softly sniffed his smoke-filled smell, caressing gently his back till she felt him relax under her.

-… also you don’t have to play Fierro, I can tell Mrs Santana…- she tried, but he shushed, his smile a bit brighter.

-Elphi, I had to wear a tights, so I am not going to let it all go to waste- and then he gave her a little push, to make her turn her around -… move your ass, we have a crowd to impress-.

-…only if you feel ok- she added, trying to look back at him, but he was avoiding her eyes, before pushing her, playfully, again.

-I am ok, but I seriously might take up on the offer of staying on your couch…- and then he wiggled his eyes -… or in your bed-.

And feeling daringly she turned around, sending him a malicious look:

-… let’s see how well you do on the stage, Fierro! -.

They had been amazing, but that hadn’t surprised her.

Not a single bit.

They had been ready to give their best.

And that’s what they had given to their audience.

They had performed perfectly the entire duet, heartbreakingly well, not even stepping on their toes once, which had happened frequently during their tryouts, and the entire exhibition had been extremely and truly magical.

She could feel it.

The audience had been extremely excited for the entire song, cheering loudly, and even more loudly when Jim had leaned down to kiss her on her lips, after their song had finished, something which hadn’t been programmed, but it all seemed so emotional and their chemistry had indeed been amazing and…

Still, they had never talked about it, not even mentioned it.

And Jim seemed the calmest about it, when moving off the stage.

But she wasn’t.

Was that a stage kiss? Was it a real kiss?

She had been confused but chose to relegate her anxiety about the situation on a little treasure chest in her brain, in order to go on with the show and then ask her questions when it all ended.

But it all went to hell as soon as she had another scene with Jim and she almost stuttered her lines, but managed to get through the end of it all, but Jim seemed to see through her uneasiness, getting her aside, knowing they had a few minutes of calm, before having to get back on stage.

-Hey, Elphi, is everything alright? – he asked, concerned, and she didn’t want to lie to him or even say the truth, since it might scare him, but…

-I am just a bit anxious- “about what that kiss might have meant”, but she decided to leave that part out, immediately getting him to push a few strands of hair out of her face, gently.

-You are doing amazing, Elphi! -she knew he was a flirty and touchy guy, with no knowledge of boundaries, but that behavior.

This was worse than math.

-Thank you- she just said, trying to get out of this awkward conversation, before he gently kissed her forehead this time and all her defenses were down.

-Jimmy.. why are you doing this? – maybe he was just looking for some kind of comfort, through touch, after he had been starved of it for so so much.

Or maybe he thought she might have wanted some kind of retribution for her comforting…

-For the same reason Fierro would follow Elphaba, betraying anything else- he seemed so so serious and close to kissing her -… that’s what is my next line, say by the way? -.

She swore he had somehow blushed, but other than that he was absolutely serious and it was indeed the next line so he wasn’t lying or…

She just smiled and nodded moving away, not seeing the way Jim looked at her almost as if he had lost his chance… and maybe he had.

At the end of recital, she was so pumped with adrenaline, that the strongest emotions provoked by the kiss with Jim seemed to pass a bit.

Mostly because after what he had said she had just brushed it aside as “a sudden acting choice, in the spur of the moment”.

The entire crowd had been shouting their names, asking them to perform a second time, applauding loudly and even screaming.

Her parents had talked about it for the entire ride, complimenting both her and Jim and her mother had almost made her laugh hysterically, in order to hide the truth, when she had said about “how in love” her and Jim looked, and even Jim had seemed taken aback from it, smiling and thanking quietly your mother.

Her parents hadn’t been able to stay for too much at home, because her sister had apparently had a little problem at the sleepover she was supposed to be at so she had called her parents to ask them to pick her up, leaving her and Jim, alone.

She hadn’t known if it had been the adrenaline or anything else, but she hadn’t minded much about it, unlike Jim who had sent her father a look as if to say “you seriously trust me with your daughter?”.

But her father had never had problems with boys, since she had been extremely calm and slow and he didn’t expect her to be the bold type, plus she was supposed to be alone with Jim just for maximum fifteen minutes, in which the boy moved to her room to change, meanwhile she scooped anything sweet in the kitchen for sugar after the musical.

She couldn’t help but giggle and jump around, extremely happy for what had happened in the musical, proud of herself, for having conquered everything that had stood in her way.

And sadly, this hazy happiness made her accidentally walk in on Jim, who hadn’t locked the room, and she stopped, moving closer to her room, waiting for Jim to give her the sign that she could come in.

But not only the door wasn’t locked, but Jim was on the phone, and the conversation was about her.

“Yeah, the musical went well, Medina!” he answered, a bit annoyed, probably something much more important stuck in his mouth “… but I think I fucked up with (Y/N)”.

And that’s when she straightened up her antennas, understanding that she was involved in whatever they were talking about.

And as much as she felt bad for snooping in Jim’s phone call, he said her name and she was extremely curious.

“… I kissed her” so he had kissed her, he had wanted to kiss her “… and then she asked me why and… I got scared and… I said a lie… and… and I think I scared her… shit shit shit!”.

She remained shocked on the threshold of her room, hidden behind the door, waiting for the phone call to end, meanwhile she pretended she hadn’t heard anything, but her cheeks were burning up and she was pretty sure they were flame-red, now, but her heart was beating so so loudly.

“… what do you mean with ‘everything is alright’?! I might have fucked up my relationship with my best friend, the one person who accepts me for me… I… am trying to calm down, Medina!” she honestly felt extremely bad, for being unable to comfort him “… yeah I think I won’t say anything if she doesn’t mention it, and hopefully she might forget it… shit I fucked up”.

She knocked on the door, feeling as the conversation should have ended there and, and immediately Jimmy came at the door, appearing in a lousy pajama, she had gotten him from her father’s wardrobe, smiling tightly at her.

-I brought refreshments- she tried to avoid talking about the true elephant in the room and to appear natural, not as if she had just heard her crush confess his true feelings about her -… so this can be a proper pajama party-.

He smirked, eyeing chocolate in her hands, immediately trying to steal it from her hands, hence they had a bit of fight over it, before they stumbled on the bed, her on top of him.

The position was awkward enough, after what had happened till that moment.

If she hadn’t pinched herself, she would have believe this was all fiction.

-Jimmy…- she whispered, staring him in his eyes, meanwhile he nodded at her call of his name, trying to make as much space as possible between them, so it would feel more comfortable for her and it wouldn’t look like they were five minutes from kissing each other -… I might have overheard you talking with Medina-.

And he looked like a deer caught in headlights, immediately scrunching away from her.

-… how much have you heard? -.

-Enough to know that the kiss wasn’t accidental – she mumbled, and he looked even more scared, avoiding her eyes, and getting up from the bed.

-Then… I shouldn’t…- but she grabbed his hand and stopped him from leaving.

-Can we talk this out? – she knew that they needed to talk, at least for their mutual respect.

-I am… I am sorry I kissed you, it wasn’t…-.

-I didn’t mind the kiss, Jimmy- it had been so sweet -…but I need to know if you meant it, because… the truth is that I have had the biggest crush on you since forever-.

And he seemed to rejoice at her words, turning back to take a look at her, shocked.

-… but I don’t know about your feelings; I don’t want you to feel forced into this relationship because you feel like you owe me something; no matter what shall come, I will be with you, to comfort you and support you, but… I don’t want your feelings for me to be confused with something else-.

She tried to be as clear as she could with him, looking him in the eyes and trying to appear sincere

And he looked back at her, truly did, smiling gently, before caressing her left cheek sweetly.

-I have had a crush on you, since I first got to know you at the musical, after the entire “painting incident” and I can’t deny that you being gentle and comforting with me, hasn’t had a role in my feelings for you, but I don’t feel like I owe you anything, I mean… I will be forever thankful for you and your words, but those things only made me realize what an amazing person you are-.

And he had been as sincere as her, in his words, looking at her reverently and this time it was her who leaned in, placing a small and chaste kiss on his lips, not even knowing how to kiss perfectly, not at least as him, but he was slow, he took his time with him.

-I don’t deserve you- he mumbled, on her lips, getting a straight up glare from her, which made her pull him into her, immediately getting on top of him.

-First thing you need to know Jim Mason, if you want to date me: people don’t deserve each other, people find each other, they respect and believe each other, and try to make things work out; no self-esteem bullshit, as long as we are together- and she made it clear, kissing all his face, a strange euphoria had taken over, as soon as the knowledge that her crush wasn’t one-sided clicked in her brain.

Meanwhile he gently smiled at her, caressing her hair, before dragging her by it in a new kiss, much less chaste than the previous, definitely lazy (something she always linked to Jimmy) caressing her lips with his, meanwhile his tongue licked her bottom lip and then he went to her upper one, meanwhile she tangled her hands in his hair.

And swiftly the situation was becoming more and more intense, with Jim’s hands wandering a bit, although he had been sweet enough to ask each time for permission, which she had gladly given.

He was halfway through her shirt, when they heard the door of her home open and her father chatting.

They had immediately straightened up their position, adjusting their clothes and putting some distance between them, collecting he food that she had brought and faking they were just eating and talking, calmly.

She really hoped they didn’t notice that her lips were a bit swollen and that she had red blushing cheeks, but her parents were too tired and just told them not to stay up too much, and her mother told Jim that if he wanted, his “bed” was ready.

They just nodded and waved their “good night”s to her parents, before Jim, comfortably laid down on her bed, a bowl of Nutella in his hand, searching for the spoons, sprayed on the bed, getting a side-look from her.

-Oh c’mon, you don’t want all this sweetness to go to waste?!- he mumbled, pointing to the Nutella.

-I just want you to know that this relationship isn’t starting well, if you, in bed with your girlfriend,,. All you think of doing is eating Nutella-.

He seemed somehow taken aback by her words and she thought she had gone too far.

-… does this mean that you are my “girlfriend”? – he mumbled, raising up and meeting her halfway for a sweet kiss.

-As long as you are mine- she mumbled, straight up on his lips, meanwhile he got away and giggled shyly.

-Only my nerdy girlfriend could say something like that after we just performed “Wicked” … - he mumbled, before kissing her again, pushing her under him.

-… but you like me even more because of that- and Jimmy didn’t answer, just kissed her again, and that was enough.

They were enough for each other.

---

Hope that you will like this!

(I am sorry if it was a bit too romance focused than musical, I just wantedb to write something sweet, musical themed, but let me know what you thought about it, it would help me a lot!).

Love you, lovelies!

@vampirefairyestelle @what-the-hecku @reyna6valdez @blakewaterxx @dvncans @kleineshaschen @alienwxre

#jim mason #jim mason x reader #jim mason hc #the tribes of palos verdes #tribes of palos verdes #tribes #tribes of PV #cody fern #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #ahs #ahs fanfiction #ahs fic #topv #jim mason fem! reader #jim mason fem reader #jim mason fan fic #wicked #fluff

49 notes · View notes

edream93 · 5 years

Text

I’m Hooked On All These Feelings (Harry of Auradon AU) Part 10

Hey everyone! Sorry that I haven’t updated since October. It was a combination of being stuck and just having a lot of different stuff going on in my life. I’m honestly not 100% satisfied with this chapter but let me know what you all think. This is also posted on on AO3 or FF.net. Here’s the link for Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 , Part 7, Part 8, and Part 9 of the story so far.

EARLIER

Uma crossed, then uncrossed, her legs. Her foot began tapping a staccato beat as she watched Evie step back from Gil and admire her work in the moon’s light.

Though Evie had assured her that Carlos had taken care of the cell’s security system and that the apple turnovers laced with sleeping potion would keep the guards knocked out until well into the next day, that still didn’t ease Uma’s need to constantly look over her shoulder. When one was used to things going wrong, one couldn’t help but fear glowing green eyes hiding around each corner ready to cause trouble.

Evie and Carlos had helped her this far, but Isle habits still made Uma’s skin crawl with anxiety, waiting for either a setup or for them to finally demand a price for their help. Afterall, it had been only her and Gil for so long that she found it hard to trust anyone else. Nothing was free. Everything came with a price. That was the one thing her mother made sure she remembered.

Afterall, Evie was working her magic on their makeup disguises. Literally. If Uma was in her position, she would be charging by every brush stroke.

Despite applying several different products that Uma could never hope to keep track of, the Evil Queen’s daughter had worked her magic with a makeup brush and fake hair making Gil look like himself...but also, not like himself. She glanced over at Gil once again but after a few seconds of staring she felt her eyes and thoughts begin to slide off Gil if she didn’t force herself to focus on him. Uma knew that if she looked in a mirror the makeup Evie had done just a few minutes ago on her would have had a similar effect.

“Her magic is definitely less flashy than Mal’s. It’s like a notice-me-not spell or something,” Carlos brought her attention to him. He stood awkwardly, fiddling with a loose thread of his jacket’s sleeve. Despite his mother’s obsession with dogs and constantly being referred to as “pup” amongst many of the Isle residents, Carlos reminded Uma more of a skittish and weary cat more than anything else. “T-that would be useful back home,” he murmured so softly Uma almost didn’t hear him.

Her hand reached up to twirl one of her braids thoughtfully around her finger. The motion stopped suddenly when she remembered she had hastily cut and taken her braids out, before twisting her much shorter hair into flat braids against her skull and pulling one of the theatre clubs stolen black wigs over it.

It was itchy and tight against her scalp and she wanted nothing more than to rip it off.

“Back home?” Uma scowled. “You sound like you’re planning to make a trip back there,” she commented before letting out a humorless chuckle. She quirked a brow as she leaned against one of the library’s many tables. “What? Miss the moldy food and the constant risk of catching pneumonia or hypothermia already?”

Carlos ran a hand over the book spines on a nearby shelf, the corner of his lips tugged down thoughtfully. “Guess I’m just not that optimistic about this whole wand thing. That Mal or her mom won’t try to cut out any competition once she’s free. And who knows,” he shrugged absentmindedly pulling out a book, flipping through the pages, “after the Coronation, the Isle may not be the worst place to be in once Auradon goes up in flames.” He paused putting the book back. Then, he glanced over his shoulder at her, observing her silently as if weighing his options before saying, “Unless...”

Uma narrowed her eyes. “Unless what, De Vil?”

Nervous energy radiated off of him in almost palpable waves so Uma was slightly impressed when Carlos looked up at her, gaze steady. “Unless someone gives Mal a run for her money and stands up to her.”

Pausing, Uma let his words sink in before she let out a short laugh of disbelief at his utterly ridiculous insinuation. ‘He couldn’t mean- That would be ridiculous!’ she thought to herself before saying out loud, “Hm, right. You sure that Tourney helmet is actually protecting that big brain of yours when you get tackled? Because you must have some brain damage, De Vil, if you think that-

“I was there you know,” Carlos cut her off, voice seeming loud in the quiet library. His cheeks and the top of his ears reddened but he continued. “When, um. When the shrimp thing happened...”

Uma stilled. It was like she could feel the cold slime of rotten shrimp sliding down the back of her shirt all over again. Her hand reached up once again to grab a braid that wasn’t there, to check and see if there was any trace of the smell. Her shoulders hunched and Mal’s ten year old laugh rang in her head.

It felt like drowning. Drowning when you didn’t even know your head had been above water in the first place.

“Yeah? So? A whole bunch of people were there! Ya want a sticker for that or something?” Uma hissed, all defensive walls and a bruised heart as she stepped toe to toe with the boy. “If you want to satisfy that praise kink of yours find someone else, pup!”

Behind them, Uma sensed Gil taking a closer step towards her. Gil hadn’t been there when Mal poured the bucket but he had been there for everything else - protecting her, patching her up, sitting with her and rambling about unimportant things in her darkest of moments until she could find the strength to cling onto his words with a tired attempt to mock him - and that alone made Uma hold her head up high, rage controlled but ready to crash down like a wave at any moment.

She didn’t owe this pup anything.

Carlos’s frame shook. The one person on the Isle whose life may have been worse than her own. Despite his obvious fear, his eyes never broke from hers.

“I saw you,” Carlos firmly stated. “You laughed at Mal but…”

“BUT?” Uma demanded, her patience on its last string. She could feel the heat coming off of Gil from behind her and she knew her friend was giving his most intimidating glare. Carlos, however, must have taken some actual courage potion because he still didn’t back down.

“But you came back for her!”

Uma baulked, taking an unconscious step back into Gil as if she had been slapped, not prepared for that response.

“When anyone else wouldn’t have cared. You did. You tried to help her because you knew she couldn’t swim. She was your friend and that was what friends do. They care.”

Uma closed her eyes, the tense energy released from her in a breath until all she felt was tired. She pinched her brow. “Yeah,” she sighed softly. “My stupidest mistake. More reason why I’m not- why I’m not...whatever you’re trying to make me be.”

“Why not?” Evie’s voice caused Uma to spin around and face the girl. She had been unusually quiet, much different from her airheaded chatty persona she put on around Mal and the royals.

Honestly, if there was anyone right now that Uma felt weary of it was Evie. Mal she expected to be cruel. Jay she expected to do whatever was in his best interest. Carlos she expected to align himself with whoever would beat him up less. Evie...well, Uma can’t imagine being exiled to stay in a rundown castle with the Evil Queen to have left anyone without some...resentment...

“You’re cunning,” Evie ticked off her fingers. “You’re smart. And you’re powerful.”

Powerful? That was not a word that Uma would ever associate with herself, especially not on the Isle. But Uma prided herself on being able to figure out what others wanted and how to exploit that the best way she could. Evie had no tell though. She was being honest, a rare occurrence with Isle kids but that just meant the girl was delusional because Uma did not have magic.

There had been that slight fluke when they had crossed the bridge from the Isle to Auradon in the limo weeks ago. It was like the ebb and flow of waves caressing her bones briefly in recognition before it sputtered out.

One could argue that she had felt her magic for the first time. Her magic which the Isle’s barrier had muted for all of her life, leaving an inexplicable ache that she had never truly been aware of.

Days passed after crossing over into Auradon and Mal performed spells from her spellbook as easily as breathing. Evie was able to use her mother’s mirror or stitch together the most heinous looking patterns into wearable art. Uma, however, had to resign herself to the fact that she didn’t have any magic.

She couldn’t make the small stream of water from the water fountain splash itself into Char Charming’s face after he had called Gil stupid. The potions she brewed for the gullible royals and nobles were just a mix of herbal concoctions that at their best could help with their users indigestion and heartburn when consumed and at their worst were a slow and long acting laxative. They didn’t give a person courage. They could not make someone fall in love or more beautiful. Uma was the daughter of the world’s most feared sea witch. That lineage, as she quickly learned in her first week in Auradon, did not mean that Uma herself was a sea witch.

Uma was destined not for greatness. It made the idea that anyone could think that she could ever have a chance to go toe-to-toe with Mal laughable...and cruel. It made every time Harry declared her a goddess a painful chip against her heart.

“Uma,” Evie stepped forward slowly. She took measured steps as if approaching a frightened animal ready to flee at any second. Once she was close enough, she took Uma’s only slightly resistant hands in her surprisingly strong grip. “You may not see it but I do. What you’ve hid for years, even from yourself. But we,” she nodded towards Carlos and Gil. “We see it. A storm that has been brewing and brewing for years.”

Uma turned slightly to see both Gil and Carlos nodding affirmingly.

“And your sailor does too,” Evie knowingly added with a prim chuckle.

“He’s not mine,” Uma wanted to reply back hotly but the memory of bright blue eyes filled with something...something that she wanted to hoard for herself caused her to pause.

Smiling gently, Evie leaned forward and kissed Uma on the cheek, squeezing her hands briefly before letting go and taking a step back.

“Whatever you decide to do, I don’t think any of us would judge you after all that you’ve been through,” Evie said as she began packing all of her things into her makeup bag before pulling out an envelope from seemingly out of nowhere.

“They’re identification,” Carlos clarified. “Passports and stuff that I made that’ll help you cross over to the neutral kingdoms. No one should expect that they’re not the real thing.”

Uma stomach turned as she looked up from the envelope, looking back and forth between Evie and Carlos. Good fake IDs weren’t cheap afterall. “What do I owe you then?”

Evie shrugged. “You may not believe this but we really don’t have any ulterior motives. We...” she sighed, for once not looking like the prim and proper princess she was taught to be but just a girl who was just trying her best. “We just couldn’t take how Mal was treating you anymore. No one deserves that.”

Uma’s frown deepened. So this was pity?

“And anything that makes Mal get all red in the face and isn’t directed at me is a win in my book,” Carlos said attempting to sound too disinterested. “Plus I have a better idea of how lame their computer security is here after bursting Gil out. It’s bound to come in handy at some point. So you’re doing us a favor.”

Uma nodded, afraid if she said anything she would mess things up. She put the envelope into one of the hastily packed bags she had made for herself and Gil before they broke him out.

“I’d advise you to keep moving until you hear the outcome of the Coronation,” Evie instructed as she handed one of her bags to Carlos. “Whether or not Mal’s plans for the wand work, someone will probably be after you as soon as they realize you’re both gone. The makeup should last long enough, even if you wash your face, so you’ll be unrecognizable,” she explained confirming Uma’s theory that the other girl had used some sort of magic to disguise them.

With that said, Evie spun on her heel before strutting out of the library, Carlos throwing a hasty wave over his shoulder as he followed her.

And then, it was just Uma and Gil.

Biting her lip, Uma turned towards the window that looked out over the forest surrounding Auradon Prep. Just a little way past the treelines, she could make out the hazy shape of the Isle, surrounded by gray clouds and smog. It had been her prison for crimes that she had never committed. It was that way for everyone born there. Running away had always felt like a dream until it was no longer a dream but reality…

Her hand unconsciously clasped around the shell necklace she had exchanged for her own along with her heart to a blue eyed sailor. She hadn’t even said goodbye to Harry. He was really too good for her. At least he was awake now. He could go back to living his perfect life surrounded by his perfect friends and family. There was no place really for someone like Uma.

“Let’s go,” she murmured softly, quickly wiping away a stray tear that had fallen. They were wasting time. They needed to get as far away as possible.

“But-” Gil began.

“I said we’re going!” Uma’s voice grew hard before shoving one of their packed bags at him. Gil looked from the bag in his hands to his friends quickly retreating back before quickly catching up with her.

A day later, Uma pulled Gil’s old jacket tighter around her for warmth. They were still too close to Auradon City to light a proper fire without being noticed.

Judging by the map that Carlos had printed off for them, they were about half a day ways from the Hundred Acre Woods that bordered Camelot and Sherwood Forest. Though Auadon as a whole had taken a step forward towards modern, non-magic advancement, that stretch of land was known for its prime camping scenery with its thick and lush greenery, totally untouched by electronic distractions. It wouldn’t be strange for someone to build a small contained campfire without being questioned. Plus, they probably had better chances of surviving in general in the woods where Gil could be in his hunting element than they would be in a busy city where they could easily be recognized, despite the wigs they both wore and the fake beard that Evie had expertly applied to Gil’s chin.

“Don’t.” Uma distractedly slapped Gil’s hand away from his face where his fingers were itching to scratch at the fake patch of hair on his chin. He pouted momentarily, fiddling with his hands as he glanced around to distract himself from the itchiness.

They were in a small abandoned lighthouse on the coast, north-west of Auradon City. The soft crashing of waves filled the silence between them as Uma systematically took everything out of their packs to take inventory.

Anything to get her mind away from distracting thoughts.

“Evie and Carlos are super nice for helping us,” Gil broke the silence just as Uma tossed him two granola bars. They had more than enough to last them for a few weeks if they rationed well.

“They aren’t nice,” Uma denied. “Probably just wanted to use us as a distraction for Mal so they can have her try at stabbing her in the back.”

Gil scratched the back of his neck, frowning. “If you say so…” he said not sounding totally convinced before taking a bite out of his granola bar.

“I do!” Uma would have stumped her foot if she had been standing up. She pulled her knees to her chest, choosing to avoid his gaze. Instead, her eyes fell on something that was peeking out of the teal jacket that Evie had somehow managed to sneak into Uma’s bag when she hadn’t been looking.

Rolling onto her knees, Uma reached out for the jacket. She leaned back on her haunches as she pulled out the small square of paper that had caught her eye.

A photo.

It showed a dashing young man with perfectly messy dark hair standing close but not touching the young woman next to him. Though she instantly knew who the young man was, It took Uma longer than she would like to admit to recognize that the young woman, with her hand captured midair on its way to push aside an errant curl away from bright blue eyes, as herself even with the telltale teal braids. Harry’s face wore a soft smirk as the fingers of one hand gently reached out for the hand at her side.

“You look different.”

She looked over her shoulder to see that Gil had moved silently closer to see what she was holding.

“He was different,” Uma answered truthfully. She took one last glance at the photo, memorizing the way she looked so...unlike herself. She paused, searching for the right word before she landed on it: happy. She looked completely and utterly happy in the fic.

“Uma?” Gil questioned after she hadn’t moved or said anything for a few moments.

Blinking as if jolted from deep within her thoughts, Uma turned to Gil, her hand clutching the Never-shell necklace, a faint but steady warmth emitting from it.

“Why have you stayed with me this long, Gil?” she asked before she could even really think about the question or what answer would be easier to hear.

Tilting his head to the side as if she had just asked why he loved eggs, Gil responded slowly, unsure if he was answering right. Best friend or not, Uma had a temper when she got impatient with him sometimes.

“Because you’re Uma,” he finally settled on. He reached out and gently squeezed her fingers, giving an unsure but warm smile. “Because you’re my best friend.”

Uma choked back a sob at the simple admission. Her mind went back to an alley where this same boy offered easily his own pain to her just to make her feel better. The large calloused hands that held hers now had been the ones that had fumbled but worked diligently to patch her up every time Mal or anyone else on the Isle thought she needed a reminder of where she fell on the Isle’s food chain.

Gil had kept her sane. Motivating her with bumbling but endearing words and acts of encouragement and loyalty that made every taunt, every encounter with Mal, every hazy dream tinged with jealousy and relief of a blue eyed boy surrounded by love just a bit more bearable.

If Harry was her anchor, grounding in a way that made her realize her life had always felt off kilter up until they had met, then Gil was her compass, pointing her back to herself. And when she really focused on herself, truly focused on her desires and not on the shackles of fear and humiliation that Mal had bound her with - that Uma had allowed herself to be bound with - she felt something powerful stir inside her.

It was like a tsunami; how the tides pulled away from the shore, gathering and gathering into a wave that once it fell would be in escapable. Her blood hummed with electricity, lightning imbued. Uma felt like she was at the edge of something that she equally both couldn’t name but welcomed, like wakefulness after a restful nap. Like a lost key that had finally been turned in a lock.

Magic thrummed lazily in the air and Uma could feel every branch and curl of it. She felt her own unconscious magic that tasted like sea salt, scuffed knees, and trust born out of loyalty and admiration that hung thick with age over Gil protectively like a blanket. She felt Evie’s magic, surprisingly subtle, woven into each stitch of the teal jacket she still held in her hands, strength, courage, and cunning breathed into it.

And the necklace…

Tears welled up in her eyes as she held tightly onto the warm and softly humming Never-shell. The magic that wafted from it smelled like a sea breeze, mutual respect, gentle touches, and unhindered smiles with bright blue eyes.

Faith. Trust. And pixie dust.

The word “love” floated to mind and the necklace pulsed in acknowledgement, feelings reflected but not hers pouring through like a gate finally opened.

“Did I-did I not answer that right?” Gil frowned disappointedly, shoulders hunched when he saw her tears.

Uma closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. A smile filled simultaneously with lingering fear, uncertainty, and fondness played on her lips as she made up her mind, plans culminating into a long overdue storm, just as Evie had said..

Opening her eyes, Uma was going to respond when she noticed something else in the pocket of the teal jacket.

She laughed, the only response she could think of when she pulled out what she could only assume was a burner phone. When she opened the scream, she wasn’t as surprised as she should have been when she saw the name of the only contact programmed into the phone.

Not even giving herself a moment to second guess herself, Uma pressed the contact number, bringing the phone up to her ear. It rang three times before it was finally answered.

“Uma,” a certain voice said her name like a prayer. Like her name itself was worth more than gold or life itself.

It made Uma’s heart flutter. “This is love,” Uma thought, squeezing Gil’s hand.

“Hey,” she responded into the phone. “How do you feel about breaking some rules? For the greater good, of course,” she tacked on winking at Gil who grinned back.

If Mal was going to eventually take her out, might as well give that purple lizard something to sweat about, right?

---

THE MORNING OF THE CORONATION

Ben always seemed to know when Harry’s thoughts ran heavy even before Harry could hide them behind dashing smiles and his playful flirty nature.

Ben supposed that’s why they had always been so close. The Prince had always been able to notice the chaotic storm that built within his friend when no one else noticed. When no one else understood. It was probably also because Ben had his own raging beast that bellowed, chained, within him that no one else noticed. That no one else understood…

Except Harry.

The prince and sailor noticed each other. Understood each other. They allowed each other to just...be without the shoulder breaking expectations of a soon to be king and his soon to be royal advisor. They saw each other and all their messy complexities and doubts and fears, a deep sense of trust and respect born out of years of being little boys thrown together with expectations and responsibilities that they could have never had comprehended at such a young age.

But now as young men, voices still deepening and uncertainty a familiar staple of their identity, they looked out the window of their once shared playroom within the gilded halls of Auradon Castle at the kingdom before them.

The roads leading up to the castle were quiet this early, just barely kissed by the sun’s light. An hour or two more and they would hear Cogsworth shouting out orders to the maids and butlers and Lumiere singing in the halls doing a fantastic job of both helping his old friend and driving him one foot closer to the grave (or retirement as he always threatened). Mrs. Potts would undoubtedly walk into each of their old rooms, pushing the curtains aside to let in the morning light, moving across the room as wonderfully dizzying as a spinning teacup. She would mother-hen them into getting ready like they were still the rambunctious eight year olds, too tired to do anything other than let her fuss and cluck over them.

So many fond memories were embedded into the walls of this castle for these two young men, when their world seemed just as big as the two of them. A selfish part of Ben wanted to stop time, to extend the carefreeness of his childhood just a bit longer.

Finally, Ben broke the silence, his words seemingly all the more loud and weighty in the dawn. “In a few hours, everything will be different. Everything will change.”

Harry glanced over at the prince, his soon-to-be king, and friend. His brother not in blood but in all the ways that mattered the most.

“You’ll be High King,” Harry nodded thoughtfully, a small smirk on his lips though his eyes held something much deeper. “Beasty King Junior,” he ruffled Ben’s hair teasingly.

Ben chuckled, shoving Harry slightly, letting his hair stay the messy nest Harry had created.

Putting a firm hand on the prince’s shoulder, Harry’s voice was firm and serious as he said, “You’ll be High King Benjamin Maurice DeFlorian, Auradon’s Just and Benevolent King.”

Ben shrugged off Harry’s hand only to almost knock them both over with a sudden and tight embrace. Harry didn’t hesitate to return the hug just as tight once his balance was stable.

“I guess this is where I’m supposed to say how you’ll be Royal Captain Harry Jones, Hand to the King and Lieutenant of the Royal Navy. My loyal advisor and friend,” Ben murmured before pushing away slightly so they could see each other, brown eyes staring knowingly into blue. “But that won’t be happening tomorrow...will it?”

Harry didn’t even try to lie. But he didn’t share the truth either. And he loved Ben for not making him tell. Instead, he merely said, “I know you’ll be a king I’ll be proud of.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, the stinging in his eyes. “And I’ll always consider you a friend.”

They pulled apart, both of them committing this moment to memory, their companionable silence hanging over them like an unsaid good-bye.

---

“I can’t believe you still do not understand how to tie a proper knot, Harry!”

Said boy couldn’t help but let out a fond and amused huff of air as he stared down at the top of Audrey’s perfectly styled and crowned head as she none too gently fixed his tie.

They could both hear the crowd cheering excitedly outside, waiting for their soon to be king to arrive at the Grand Hall of King Adam and Queen’s Belle castle.

“Surprised you didn’t take Ben up on his offer,” Harry murmured just before choking as Audrey made his tie too tight.

“Oops,” she said not even sounding remorseful at all when the boy let out a strangled sound when she tugged too tight. “And I’m a princess, Harry. It would look tasteless to ride with Ben in his coronation chariot after he broke up with me, instigated by a love spell or not. A princess takes pity from no one. I mean, can you imagine what people would have said?”

Harry rolled his eyes, keeping his thoughts on the matter to himself.

“Anyway, where is Calista Jane?” Audrey glanced around the room as if she half expected the half-pixie to appear out of nowhere and startle her with a prank of some sort like CJ was often prone to do when they were younger.

“Wasn’t feeling well,” Harry smoothly answered, looking at a spot right above Audrey’s head. “Didn’t help that old dad isn’t showing up to this.”

“Poor dear,” Audrey said before her hands stilled, pretty face shifting into genuine concern. “And you? How are you holding up?”

Allowing himself to let out a long sigh, Harry could only shrug. “He takes his duty keeping the waters of Auradon safe very seriously. He’s always been like that so didn’t expect much of a change now.”

Audrey looked like she wanted to say something but she remembered herself and what was expected of her, so she kept her thoughts about how poor of a father the naval leader was to herself. She took another few seconds to finish with his tie before taking a step back.

Harry waited silently, watching as she took in his outfit, from how his freshly pressed white dress shirt tucked into tailored black dress slacks and under a dark gold embroidered double breasted waistcoat. Audrey frowned as she adjusted the collar of his long red leather jacket before her previous downturned lips (“Because princesses don’t scowl, Harry!”) smoothed into a pleased expression.

“There you go,” Audrey turned him towards the mirror. “A dashingly handsome young sailor.”

“Yeah,” Harry found himself swallowing thickly around the words. “Ye did well, lass.”

It was a testament to apparently how well even Audrey knew him that she didn’t pinch his hand for slipping back into the heavy brogue he had a habit of falling into when he was feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“No need to worry,” Audrey placed a light hand on his arm. “You’ll be a great second in command. And besides, everyone will be paying more attention to Ben than you. You just need to stand there and look pretty. Shouldn’t be hard for you.”

Harry looked down at her, taking in Audrey’s pretty smile and soft features and the obvious care and concern she had for those close to her that she for some reason thought was important to hide behind a pretty and vapid mask. Though they had never been as close as he and Ben had been growing up, so many of his childhood memories contained Audrey at their side or somewhere nearby in the background. She was basically like a third sister: annoying, always driving him up the wall, but he would knock out anyone who dared hurt her. (Good thing Harry was under a sleeping curse and Ben had the excuse of being under a love spell when he crushed Audrey’s heart.)

“Audrey…” Harry began.

Audrey didn’t look up from the mirror as she fussed over invisible imperfections with her perfectly done hair. Typical Audrey, he thought fondly.

“What is it Harry?” she murmured applying a fresh coat of lip gloss.

“Nothing,” Harry softly sighed, looking away. “You look beautiful.”

Audrey merely rolled her eyes, giving herself one final once over in the mirror before the warning trumpets began to play, signalling Ben’s arrival. “Of course, Harry. I’m a princess. Now we can’t dilly dally for yours and Ben’s big day. Move it mister! Today will be a day to be remembered!”

Harry nodded, offering Audrey his arm to guide her back to her parents before he took his position next to Ben’s parents. Today would be a day to remember.

---

Mal glared at Evie after the Evil Queen’s daughter smacked her hand away from the delicate fabric of her dress’s high neckline.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Evie tsked, taking a moment to pluck some of Dude’s hair from Carlos’s coat and to tuck a loose strand of hair back into Jay’s bun. “You’ll ruin the lace.”

“How about I ruin your face, princess?” Mal hissed before shoving pass some royals who had the misfortune of getting in her way.

Her patience was practically nonexistent at this point and Mal didn’t care that everyone could see that.

With Auradon on high alert after Uma and Gil’s jailbreak and escape (the exact how still under investigation since there was no sign of physical or magical forced entry), the remaining four VKs were under constant watch despite Mal’s convincing performance with Fairy Godmother earlier that week. That meant that any attempt to try a repeat of the love spell on the Prince to try to get closer to the wand had to be thrown out the window leaving Mal shit out of luck.

Neither Jay, Carlos, or Evie pointed out the way that Mal’s hands shook or how her eyes seemed to constantly be glowing with barely tethered control. It didn’t help that Fairy Godmother had thought it would be “good” idea to set up a video chat with their parents the day before since Maleficent, Evil Queen, Cruella, and Jafar obviously couldn’t make it to the complete and utter clusterfuck that was Family Day.

Yeah...a talk with her mother was exactly the confidence booster that Mal needed when even the Isle knew of Shrimpy’s little jail break was such uber fun. (NOT!) Even Ursulla, who had also been there during the video chat had laughed in the background like some demented soundtrack of Mal’s failure as Maleificent grew more and more angry with her only child.

There was no more time for mistakes. With determination as hot and unyielding as the fires of hell, Mal’s eyes landed quickly on her prey.

“What’s she doing?” she heard Carlos nervously whisper somewhere behind her as she continued to walk further, closer towards the part of the hall reserved specifically for all of the upper tier royals and several ass kissing sidekicks.

Jay must have said something in response to silence the runt but Mal didn’t give it any thought.

Mal could not allow herself to fail again.

She reached her hand into the obnoxiously delicate looking handbag she had made Evie design, pulling out a sewing needle just as she came up behind the once again mousy looking plain Jane.

“That’ll teach the sorry excuse for a fairy to bite the hand that magiced up flawless hair for her, Mal thought remembering the way that Jane and everyone else had looked down upon them after a series of escalating events during Family Day, starting with a wonderful family reunion with Queen Leah literally two minutes after Mal’s and the other’s arrival. Perhaps in another world, Mal would have been moved by Prince Ben’s promise that he would make everyone understand that even Isle kids deserve a chance. But this was not that world and the Prince’s blind faith merely made Mal want to barf all over him.

“Hey Jane!” Mal put on a poor attempt of a smile, the facade growing more twisted as Jane jumped, startled and fear palpable as she turned to see that it was Mal. However, evil was on a time crunch at the moment. “Just wanted to say, that after everything that happened,” Mal said before sticking out her hand, “that there’s no hard feelings.”

Not for the first time, Mal wanted to laugh at the sheer stupidity of Auradon’s citizens and their idiotic “forgiveness is good” policy as poor clueless plain Jane gave a shy smile before reaching out shake Mal’s hand.

“Ouch!” and pulling back her hand to see where a small prick was made was all Jane could do before her eyes dulled and her expression slackened.

Mal smirked, Jane easily under her spell. Perhaps she could actually pull this off.

“So here’s what I need you to do for me, Janey.”

#disney descendants #harry of auradon au #uma descendants #harry hook #evie descendants #carlos de vil #gil descendants #ben descendants #audrey descendants #i'm hooked on all these feelings #descendants fanfic #descendants fanfiction #edream93 fanfic #edream93 fanfiction

16 notes · View notes

wulferson · 5 years

Text

i saw a post earlier that is incredibly relevant™ and let me fucking say if you fucking think it’s okay to use your mental illness as an excuse for shit you need to stop right the fuck now because it is so fucking manipulative and shitty and there is no excuse for that, and it really made me think of all the shit that’s been going on with me aside from the fucking ADHD - more under the cut (tw: emotional abuse, self harm mention)

The past few weeks have been absolute fucking hell for me, leading up to the last couple of days being a disaster. For years I have been friends with somebody, and we used to get along so well, but we grew apart. I’ll admit, I was never perfect, and I used to do some shitty things a long time ago, but I grew up and realized my mistakes. I thought we were happy and fine for such a long time, and didn’t realize that for fucking years now I’d been emotionally abused and manipulated.

She has anxiety and depression, and I get it, it’s hard. I have anxiety, I’ve been depressed, I know the feeling. However, I didn’t fucking use that against anybody the way she did with me. Maybe I did when I was younger, and that was shitty of me - I was stupid as a kid, and kids do stupid things, but like I said I grew and I learned, and I stopped doing that kinda thing.

She told me that she felt like I didn’t care anymore, and I told her time and time again that I did and that I was trying to fix the issues between us. She still refused to believe me and just said that I didn’t care, didn’t want to fix it. About a year and a half ago, she tried to break it off with me, and I wasn’t ready. I really couldn’t bear with the thought of her leaving - even though it would have been the healthiest thing for me. We got back together, it was fine for a bit - and then the cycle began again. Again and again and again, we always came back to shitty stupid fight, make up, be nice for a while, something dumb happens and another shitty fight ensues. And it would repeat. She always fucking pinned the blame on me, every single time.

I’m not perfect and I know that, but I was trying so fucking hard to be good for her. I would take time out of my day to hang out with her, and I would let her know if I was gonna be busy with something for a few days so she knew why I wasn’t able to hang out or something. This was never fucking enough for her, though. She always had to pull up how lonely she was when I’d do something with friends, she’d always (like i said before) tell me it really seemed like I never cared and I really don’t understand where the hell she was even coming from with this. I constantly showed her that I cared about her, I did so much for her and she just didn’t acknowledge it in the long run.

She also just... always had to know what I was doing. She would tell me that she didn’t, but she always asked “what’s up, what’s going on,” etc., etc. I added two of my friends from school on Steam and she got so pissed that I didn’t fucking tell her right away. The same happened when I was DM’d by somebody in a server over Runescape and I didn’t tell her until she saw it on a screenshare. Like, it was a brief message where we literally just talked about some Runescape, but apparently I was the bad guy for not telling her right away that I got a message from some random person I don’t even really know.

Kind of related to knowing what I was doing (I guess), she felt very controlling, and I just brushed it off for such a long time. I wouldn’t even take a sip of the slightest bit of alcohol at 21 because I knew she’d be so fucking disappointed/angry that I willingly did that without being pressured.

We hit another one of our stupid fights earlier this week, and she had already been kind of mad about the fact that I was involved with more people since getting back on tumblr while she didn’t have anybody with the same dynamic. I offered for her to make friends with my friends on several occasions, and I offered for her to come join me with all the Hollow Knight stuff (even though she hadn’t finished the game), and she’d always say her anxiety got in the way. I understand that social anxiety is very hard to combat, and I don’t blame her for that. What angers me is that she would still get mad at shit like me getting gift art of my OC or the fact that i was “doing shit for other people” when I had requests going and shit.

I finally worked up the courage the other night to end it after she fucking came onto my blog without telling me, looked through several pages of it, and got pissed off at a silly doodle I did of a friend that I posted but didn’t show her right away. She argued like hell with me for a while, and eventually turned it into a whole “you don’t care this shows you don’t care you’re being sneaky about shit you’re doing” bblblaabalblaa. I have nothing to hide, but she had me so stressed out about even being with my school friends and hanging out that I was afraid to share shit i was doing with her. Should I have done that? No, but god was I fucking afraid to piss her off or upset her. The amount of times “I want to kill myself” has been said to me in the context of an argument is so high I can’t actually count it.

She realized at this point that I was at my wit’s end, and I was ready to end it. She starts fucking pulling all the “we were gonna do this together, and we had plans” bullshit, starts sending pictures of all the old art we’ve done for each other and just... really starts fucking guilt tripping me into not breaking it off, and making it insanely fucking hard.

Later that night she tells me “hopefully there will be room in my life for you again, I’m sorry I’ve been such a problem” after going on about how sweet and kind of a person I am. I thought that would have been the end of it, but after a day of not hearing from her she came back immediately accusing me of being the reason the entire relationship went to shit. She literally said she hurt me because of the way I had hurt her, and that I have problems and my behavior ruined her as a person. She’s going on and on about how I never cared, and I never wanted to fix the issues and all I want to do is run away from them. No, I tried so fucking hard to save this relationship.

I was never quick to blame her for my issues like she did to me. I physically fucking hurt myself over how shitty I thought I was to her, because I thought I genuinely deserved it because I was that terrible. Thing is though, even when she found out about that, I still didn’t blame her. I told her that I made the conscious decision to do that, and it was on me, not her. She came in so fucking quick blaming me the instant she messaged me.

The last thing I would have wanted was for it to be over, but now that it is, I feel so fucking free. I didn’t realize for years how fucking shitty and manipulative and downright abusive it was.

sorry if any of this is incoherent nonsense, it’s 6am and i’m still awake, so my typing isn’t the greatest right now

tl;dr: I’ve been part of a shitty abusive relationship without realizing for a very long fucking time, and it’s been killing me terribly for forever, but I finally broke it off and accepted that I can’t keep fucking living like a caged animal.

#wulf rambles #abuse #self harm #long post #im exhausted good fucking knight zzzzz #forgot to tag alcohol #alcohol #mention of it anyways just in case

15 notes · View notes

koinekid · 6 years

Text

K18: The List

My previous story involved Eighteen and Krillin coming together through the actions of a friend. This time, Eighteen takes matters into her own hands.

For ChestnutFest 2018

Prompt: Friends to Lovers

Rights to Dragonball and related properties are held by their respective owners. No infringement is implied or intended.

The List

By Koinekid

This wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go. Eighteen had a straightforward plan: pull Krillin aside after dinner, sit him on the couch, chase out their roommates, confess her feelings, and celebrate with a kiss.

All went as intended until she told him how she felt. Then, instead of taking her in his arms, he sat rigid, looking confused, and asked the one question she hadn’t prepared to answer: “Why?”

She was ready for, How long?

—As long as I can remember—

Or, How did you hide it?

—It wasn’t easy—

But, Why? Did he want a list?

It took all her courage to speak her heart the first time. How humans did this sort of thing repeatedly was beyond her.

Eighteen wasn’t stupid. She’d watched couples in the mall kissing and holding hands, hers itching to reach out and clutch his but falling short when she lost her nerve. Observation was one thing, acting quite another. She’d never done anything like this, never known anyone she wanted to do this with. It was her dumb luck to fall in love with an idiot who couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

She felt a tirade coming on and could see the next few minutes play out in her mind: she’d lay into him good, then march upstairs, slam her door, and brood for the rest of the night. Maybe the next several nights.

Her eyes fell on his lips, still twisted in confusion. Damn it, she wanted her kiss! She’d worked herself up all day, fantasizing about it. No way would she let him off the hook.

Briefly, she considered leaning across the couch and laying one on him, trusting the movements of her mouth to convey the truth where words had failed her. But Krillin would be too stunned and end up ruining it. Besides, his heart wouldn’t be in it, and that was unacceptable. Their first kiss must be an expression of the love they shared.

Nothing for it, then. She would have to try once again to persuade him using her words.

“Because…” she began.

“What?”

“Because you say my number like it’s a name.” At his perplexed look, she explained: “You asked why I love you, and that’s my answer. When you say Eighteen, it sounds like a name.”

He seemed intrigued. “How do I do that?”

“I don’t know. It’s just different the way you say it.” Sensing he wasn’t convinced, she added, “Did you know I considered choosing a name for myself after I moved in? I even narrowed it down to a handful, but after hearing you say Eighteen a few times, I didn’t need to.”

“I’m sure our friends never meant to—”

“I don’t care what they call me. I care what you call me.”

Krillin smiled—just a little.

Encouraged, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “That’s not the only reason. Shall I continue?”

He nodded.

“You go all out on a meal even though I can’t eat much.”

“It’s just as easy to cook for an extra person.”

“Krillin, please. When I’m here, you grill steak. When I’m away visiting my brother, you make sandwiches and ramen.”

He raised a brow. “How would you know what I cook if you’re gone?”

“The others complain about it for days after I return. Last time I came home a day early, and the old perv fell on his knees and thanked me.”

“Well, you deserve good food.”

“What I deserve is to be treated as badly as I treated you when I first arrived.”

“No, you don’t!”

Eighteen grinned. "So, you admit I treated you poorly."

His eyes widened in panic. "I didn't mean—"

"Krillin, it's okay. I was horrible. You deserved better, and I promise to treat you better in the future."

He grasped the hand on his shoulder. "You already do, and besides you were hurting. I understood then, and I understand now."

"My hurting isn't an excuse."

"Maybe not, but I forgive you."

She winked at him. "Yet another reason to love you."

"I hope you aren't saying all this just to make up for the past."

"Do you think so little of me—that I could mistake a guilty conscience for romantic feelings? In all the time you've known me, have I ever apologized to anyone? For anything?"

Krillin shook his head.

"So, clearly, I'm not declaring my feelings as a way to apologize. I'm apologizing because of how I feel."

"I guess that makes sense."

"Do you need more reasons?" Not waiting for a response, she went on: "Because you move heaven and earth for my tiniest smile. Because you're the one person in my life I can completely trust. Because you allow me to make mistakes and never judge me for them."

"Those are all great qualities for a friend."

"You are my friend. But we can be more." Something occurred to her then that, in all her planning and preparation, she hadn't considered. "You do want to be more, don't you, Krillin?"

"Eighteen..."

Oh, no. He didn't. How could she have been so foolish? How—?

"Of course, I do. I've loved you since...well, for a long time. But..."

Eighteen was so relieved that she nearly missed his explanation. Hearing how ludicrous it sounded, she almost wished she had. "Taking advantage of me?"

"You said it yourself. You trust me, and I don't want to violate that trust by—"

"Being a complete idiot?"

He appeared genuinely hurt by that. "This isn't easy for me, you know."

"Good."

“But—“

"Krillin, I don't need you to save me from myself. I admit I've missed out on a few experiences, but I know my own heart, and my heart is set on you."

His eyes sparkled with unshed tears. Was she finally getting through to him?

"Then how about this for a reason? Because I get weak in the knees when you smile at me."

"Eighteen?"

There, he said it that way.

"Because my breathing shallows and my pulse quickens when you walk around without a shirt." She slid closer until their knees touched. He didn't pull away. "Because whenever I find you napping on the beach, I have to force myself not to pounce on you." She caressed his face, teasing his lower lip with her thumb and causing him to whimper. "Because so often I've dreamed of breaking into your room at night and making you mine." Here goes. She straddled his lap and gazed lovingly into his eyes. His hands moved as if magnetically drawn to rest on her hips. "Because in my heart, I'm your woman already. Because..."

She leaned in and closed her eyes, hovering just centimeters from his lips. She longed to taste his kiss, to plunge her tongue into his mouth, to conquer and claim and be claimed. But the final say had to be his.

With a groan, Krillin made his decision. Their lips met, tearing cries from both their throats. His arms went around her back and pulled her tight against him. He sought to deepen the kiss, and she responded enthusiastically.

When their embrace ended several breathless minutes later, Eighteen lay panting against him. "Now, do you believe me?"

His lips, weary from their workout, managed to quirk into a grin. "You have thoroughly convinced me."

"Good. Now before we take this upstairs and continue behind closed doors...why do you love me?"

"Are you sure you can wait that long?"

She swatted him playfully. "I didn't say I was going to make you mine tonight. Although I can guarantee you, it will be soon."

He chuckled and squeezed her gently. "I just meant that if I listed every reason, we’d be here all night."

"Can't have that. Let's start with the top..."

"The top eighteen?" He wiggled his brows.

She smirked. "I don't recall your corny sense of humor being on my list."

He shrugged. "Number one: you put up with my corny sense of humor. Number two—mmph!"

When they finished their second round of kissing, she grabbed him by the hand and led him upstairs.

"What about the rest of the list?"

"Tomorrow," she said. “Right now, there's a big comfy bed with our names written all over it."

The End

Thanks for reading; reviews and comments are appreciated.

I managed to finish a story for K18 day after all. Tomorrow at 10:30 AM, plan to read A Favor for a Friend, a prequel to my first K18 story, By Any Other.

The stories I’ve posted this week will soon be published in Kame Island Romance, my archive of K18 romance stories published on FFN.

#@chestnutisland #chestnutfest #chestnutfest!#K18day2k18 #k18 #krillin #Android 18 #lazuli #koinekid #fanfiction #fanfic #dragonball #dragonball z #dragonball super #dragon ball #dragon ball z #dragon ball super

25 notes · View notes

stitches-for-solo · 5 years

Text

Why Is It...

...that I can’t accept that something good might finally be happening? I can feel optimistic for a little bit, but then my brain starts chiming in, usually asking something similar to “how stupid/delusional/high/foolish/out of your damn mind are you? You can’t seriously think...” 💭

...and my cynical side usually ends up winning. I feel defeated. A lot. I’m not really sure how a sane person can disagree and fight so much with themselves, but it seems to happen to me quite frequently.

I’m feeling extremely frustrated, restless, and sick to my stomach tonight. I have never been great at calming myself down or letting energy out in a healthy way. It’s not so much that I don’t try, it’s more because I just don’t know how. After all the therapy I’ve been through, you’d think I could have figured out something that works for me by now, but no. I’ve always thought therapy is nothing to be ashamed of, and that everyone could benefit from it from time to time in some way, even if they’re perfectly (mentally) healthy. It was my opinion that therapy shouldn’t be reserved for struggling through tough times or a personal crisis. Now, I’m not so sure. I don’t feel like I have a whole lot to show for it, which I’m sure would most likely be attributed to lack of effort on my part, but that’s simply not true. Maybe my frustration and confusion come off as apathy and stubbornness — and my mental and physical defects don’t help say otherwise (even though they should. I got kicked out of treatment years ago because I was having severe neurological problems, and my AA sponsor quit working with me because I had a panic attack in front of her and it freaked her out. Actually, I think she was more pissed than anything because she took time out of her day off to meet with me. She also didn’t understand the first thing about anxiety and questioned me continuously if I was ready to work with her, because she didn’t want to ‘waste’ her time. I was ready — so in reality, she wasted my time.) But as far as therapy goes, I tried to make my goals perfectly clear, but my sessions were always steered in the wrong direction. I want to learn positive coping skills. I need to learn positive coping skills. All I’ve known my whole adult life is how to get drunk to the point of not caring, and that can’t happen anymore.

I used to be a really open person. I didn’t mind talking about personal things, in fact, I was happy when someone expressed interest in me. It made me feel real. I still don’t mind sharing things with others. I truly don’t, and you never know who might be going through the same shit as you, or who could offer advice or suggestions on how to approach things in a way you hadn’t thought of. So that hasn’t changed; I’m still an open book. Ask away. I’ll talk about anything. What has changed is that now I’m finding that I’m afraid to share. I didn’t really care before, because if someone didn’t like what I had to say or something about me, they could fuck off for all I cared. I didn’t like myself and I really didn’t care if anyone else did either. But it’s different now. I’m scared of being judged, chasing people away, and plain old rejection. Oh, and being misunderstood. Sometimes trying to explain my emotions and how/why I act on them the way I do is like trying to explain calculus to a baby. I don’t get it, so how the hell is someone else supposed to get it? I feel like the more I talk, the more distant people become. And maybe it’s in my head. I’ve always been nervous about being rejected — that’s not new. But I don’t want people to think I’m nuts.

I became so isolated when I was living by myself with R & S (they were the responsible ones in the apartment). Rarely did anyone come by (most of the time when someone did visit, it was a disaster), and rarely did I talk to anyone, outside of one or two close friends that both live far away. However, I don’t consider myself desperate, so that’s a step up. For as much as I have a hard time believing any positive things people have to say about me, I think if I got up the courage to really put myself out there, I could meet a handful of people. That’s all I’ve really ever needed. Yet, at the same time, I feel like it’s a mistake to even be writing this. I fear someone is going to read it, or older entries, and think “this girl is insane”. Maybe I’m not ready. I want to be.. I want to be so badly. Before, I didn’t care. I accepted my misery as just being the way my life had to be, and I stewed in it for years. I’m trying to turn things around, but it’s so much harder than I thought it was going to be. There’s always something. Life dealt me a shitty hand, and I don’t want to focus on that anymore. Life dealt lots of people shitty hands. I have to learn to deal with it, and I know there’s plenty of people with greater problems than I can even comprehend that still wake up every morning, go to work, come home, unwind, and are in bed by like 11pm. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep that early. Hell, it’s almost 3:30 and I don’t feel tired at all. Ugh. Well, maybe I’m barely starting to feel it..

My mom and I got in a fight today. I think she misinterpreted something I said and refused to talk to me about it, even after I let us both cool off for a few hours. I don’t know why, but I seem to have the worst luck with trying to do adult things on my own. Again, it’s always something, but instead of sitting here, bitching about it, I just want to know what I can do differently so it doesn’t happen again. I’m starting to hate complaining. I never thought I’d see the day.. Anyways. This particular incident involved a huge ordeal with my idiot dentist office(s). I think there was a misunderstanding about my intent and expectation with medications, which, I guess I deserve. I don’t have any ulterior motives and I never wanted or expected someone to supply them for me (other than the dentist himself) — I just don’t want to be in pain. But I guess I understand why I can’t be trusted with certain things. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. I did it to myself, I know, but I’m trying to prove that I’m not like that anymore. I know that’s going to take a very long time, though. And speaking of my mother, we’re not getting along and it’s getting worse and worse every day. It makes me sad, knowing I’m such a burden to everyone around me. We’ve never seen eye-to-eye, and I’ll always be the black sheep of the family, or the elephant in the room, or whatever. If I knew how to fix it, I would, but I don’t, so I can’t. She can’t see me as anything but a child and I won’t accept anything less than being treated like an adult. I’m not blaming her. I think it’s equally our faults, but I don’t really see a lot of effort on her part. I know she resents me for how much my dad and her have had to help me. I’m not trying to bash her or say she’s a bad mother or anything like that. I just wish we got along. I was so upset about it earlier, I was actually crying. I used to cry all the time, but not anymore. Maybe I just have a stone heart. But it’s probably much more likely that at least some of my meds are working.

One last thing. I hate the feeling that I’m being lied to. I know some things aren’t my business, and that’s okay. But just be honest and say that. I may be a teenie bit upset by that response, but it’s a hell of a lot better than lying to me. I’d rather appreciate the honesty than have to be resentful over something that isn’t true. And when I feel like someone is being deceitful, I can’t get the thought out of my head and it drives me mad. (That’s not directed at anyone, just a general observation. I’m ready to post this and go watch tv.)

Whew. Apparently I had a lot on my mind...

#Personal #Rambling #Long Post #Don’t Even Remember What I Wrote

2 notes · View notes

eallisnwndrlnd · 5 years

Text

Moving On From 2018

One thing I can say that I love about New Years is that it’s like life feels like it gave you a bit of a reset button. Not erasing anything but at least working towards improving what you did or didn’t do the past year. I definitely need that reset for this past year 2018.

Most of the year was in a bit of a stressful blur. I’m not going to bother reflecting on my previous New Years post since most of what I had hoped to come into fruition didn’t. All I can say is despite my battle with my depression and anxiety being the major factor in my stressed out year, I managed to accomplish some things. May not have been most of what I had planned but hey, that’s life sometimes.

This past 2018 I completed my 3rd year, completed my internship hours and my first semester of my last school year in college.

Even if I didn’t get in any of the companies I may have wished for my internship, I was lucky to find a company where I had a chance to utilize my skills and creativity in my writing and photography. It was pretty stressful initially when I was not getting any response from any of the fifteen companies I applied to. Thankfully it all worked out in the end. I even had fun and made it feel like a vacation with a classmate that became roommate and friend. I was feeling less claustrophobic when I was in our shared apartment in BGC, Taguig, away from the many reasons for my stress and anxiety. I was able to let myself forget about it at least during those short two months during break.

Going straight into the start of 4th year with unresolved issues and things that needed to be done, my stress and anxiety kicked into overdrive as schoolwork and personal issues at home gradually stacked up against me. By the end of the semester I was completely wound tight and sensitive as hell where I felt at any moment I could break. There were some close calls close to the end that’s for sure. Especially with some family drama that nearly buried me in an emotional quicksand. I ended up breaking down in front of my teacher for thesis because I thoroughly let myself down on that one. I was in no shape to complete it in time for the scheduled defense that was a few weeks ago. When it all comes down to it, no one is harder on me than myself. I put the high expectations on me and when I don’t meet them or make a mistake or complete it short of perfection, I dwell on it to no end. Then there was the matter of film and theatre class, where if I were back home, I may have enjoyed and been extremely enthusiastic about but alas due to my poor fluency in Tagalog I wasn’t able to truly be a part of the major projects we had to complete. I ended up taking roles that were so far away from what I really wanted to contribute but as the stories were in a language and culture that I still didn’t fully understand, I was in no way able to contribute in the way I would have wanted to anyway.(One of the brighter spots of film was being able to share some of my favorite films of all time and also participate in our groups documentary on a Badjao community despite being in pain and sick more than half the time. Seeing and meeting some of the people with their strength and courage and determination despite their hardships, really helps one put things in perspective.) With the organizations I am a part of, even if I had a minor role in all three, I still didn’t feel up to the task. I really kind of played dead dog for most of my responsibilities in ISO.

Honestly, this semester and even last semester, I felt myself ever so slightly detach from everything and kind of just mechanically go through the motions just managing to barrel through out of sheer need to complete my four years in college, do well and graduate. This semester is the first time in over four years where I found myself nearly having an anxiety attack. Not once, but three times. Once during debate when my brain refused to memorize my speech and then I fucked up completely during the recitation for my midterms. (I’m just thankful that my written speech helped me pick my grade up for that. Writer I may be, but speaker I sorely am not) It didn’t help that I still get a bit of stage fright every once in a while. Then the second was when my cousin messaged me about my mother having a schizophrenic episode and that it was causing drama and issues. The third one was during one of our theatre rehearsals and that one had no initial trigger except my stupid bronchitis that refused to go away that came out of a cold that has lasted frakking forever. Toss in several emotional breakdowns and smoking a ciggy after three years ciggy free and I could say I was down for the count. These past holidays of Thanksgiving and then Christmas were kind of meh considering I was sick for the first one and ma and I both were sick for the latter. But I pretty much had been sick on and off all this past semester and throw in my fibromyalgia kicking in worse than its been in the past four years, bringing spasms of pain that brought me to tears and bouts of insomnia this entire past year, 2018 brought more pain in more ways than one than anything else. I’m just thankful my ma, pop and family and friends (and my possessed cat, Gandalf) are still healthy and those that aren’t so much are on the road to being so, hopefully soon.

This new year 2019 is hopefully the year where I finally meet one of my lifetime goals of graduating and getting a college degree. After so much work and sacrifice not only from me but my parents, I need to reach that goal. I will be starting my fourth year second semester at the end of this month but before that hopefully will have completed our final film and theatre projects as well as getting some traction in completing my thesis that is now not a solo one as I included three classmates to be a part of it. At the end of the day, even if I had wanted my thesis, that I started with on my own, to be solely mine, I had to consider my health both mentally and physically which became the deciding factor in no longer trying to push myself in such a way that would’ve hurt me rather than help. As I near graduation, I will set out in determining what I want to do afterwards. Whether I stay here (that’s only if I get an opportunity down the road) or go back to the States or go to another country has yet to be determined. If I were to go back to the States, I’d then have to decide which state I’d be moving to. Or rather, WE would be moving to. We as in me and mother. Yes, my mom is a big factor in my decision. She has to be, there’s no point deluding myself that I would be comfortable with any other scenario. I’ve watched over that woman pretty much all my life and have been a sort of parent-like person for her since I was a kid. As she grows older and goes deeper into her schizophrenia and becomes more fragile, I cannot in my heart think of any other alternative other than keeping her with me. It’s not some martyrdom complex or anything like that, it’s just how I am wired. Even with all my issues and the mental, emotional and physical toll it has taken on me, I love my mom and she brought me up the best way she knew how or could do. I can’t fault her for her illness and I can’t ignore the fact that she needs me as much as I need to know she is ok...as ok as she is capable of being. I may gripe and such but let’s face it, these are the cards I was dealt and I’ve managed all this time somehow and I’m pretty sure as I get older and wiser I’ll get better and better at doing so. But for the most part I can say I’m at peace with my decision (even when a tiny voice inside my head screams at me WTF are you thinking!!! HEEELP MEEE!) Now I’m just torn between should I stay or should I go (now. ....sorry had to. As I was typing those words I was singing it dammit!!!) And if I go, go where exactly? What do I do with my cat? How tf am I getting the beloved furry pain in my butt to come with me? What best fits not only my needs but my mothers and (if my furbaby is coming) Gandalf? New York? (That’s expensive AF) San Francisco? (SAME! but but SWEATER WEATHER LOVE!!!) L.A. (I’m not gonna lie, my home city is the last choice on my short list) Seattle? (perhaps but can my ma stand the so called gloomy weather which I am partial to?) S.A. (STOP! HAULT! DO NOT GO THERE! Though I have many fond memories and do love the city in many ways including my family and friends..and cheaper rent per square foot...and delicious bbq...I just can’t...cuz politics, namely its states’ politics. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t want my tree hugging, In-N-Out loving ass either anyhow.) I guess I can only say We’ll see. As I get closer to the end of my fourth year I’ll be more sure of which direction I’d want to go but so many things can still happen from now to then so I just want to leave myself open to any possibility that I may not have even thought of.

So besides all that ‘off to the future I go’ crap, lets see...what do I want to see myself accomplish this year. I...

Must read more books (last year was depressing af for my bookwormish self as I only read three books, actually technically two were only completed in 2018 but I started in 2017. Now that’s sad for someone who used to down one to two books a day and read as she walked)

Must get rid of more of my shit (I actually have been slowly accomplishing this little by little but seeing as it is nearing the end of my time at UB I must do this in its entirety by the middle of the year.)

Must write at least one script of my own and complete it. (I have a few synopsis ideas written down, I just need to sit my butt down and make it a full story)

Hope to go to Tokyo, Australia, New Zealand, Thailand and again to South Korea. (At least Tokyo I hope for this year)

Must lose the weight I gained only during this past semester. (I can only fit my rollies into two of my jeans and both have holes, one was bought that way and the other lost the battle with a tricycle and a school chair)

Must cook more (I actually have been little by little doing just that, thanks to Instagram people who post recipes that motivate my lazy ass into wanting to cook what’s in the picture.)

Must regularly volunteer again(Unfortunately I haven’t taken much time to do any since I’ve been here. Hopefully once my workload at school eases I can finally take the time to do this. It’s one of the things I love doing with my time because it’s the time when I can do something that isn’t for me but for someone else which I guess in a way is also for me in the sense that it just makes me feel good.)

Must explore more of the Philippines (hopefully after I graduate we can do this)

Hope to get to Guru level on Gurushots (only need to mark off four more of the criteria to get there)

Hope to learn a third language (I’m thinking either Spanish or Korean since I at least know some vocabulary and short phrases already. The fact that I would love to be able to watch my kdramas without subtitles definitely gives me the incentive to lean toward the latter.)

Hope to get more than four hours of sleep on average. (I would love that, only if my neighbors (front, both sides and back) dogs and Gandolf agree to keep it quiet during the wee hours in the morning)

Must follow my daily, weekly, monthly goal checklist for more than just one month (yup that’s pretty much all that it lasted give or take a few weeks then days, last year)

If I can manage to even complete a fourth of that which is mentioned above, I will have done this long ass blog entry justice. So if y’all managed to reach the end of all this ridiculousness, I wish to say to you HAPPY NEW YEAR and may this year and the many years to come bring you all you hope for and more. Let’s 2019 the shit out of this frakking year and make it our bitch!!!

(At least I can say with this yearly blog entry that I’ve managed to keep this one and only friggin tradition during New Years)

#new year #new years resolution #new years eve #life #goals

1 note · View note

yakashi-lover · 7 years

Text

Anything

Pairing: KakaYama

Words: 4337

Prompt: write everything you want, very angsty, illness, war, post war, everything you want. - @laviniahatake

Trigger warnings for suicide and self-harm!

Please excuse any typos! I did proof read but I’m quite sick today and don’t have a beta!

Anything

Kakashi’s hand trailed slowly over the wooden table. The damp washcloth under his palm cooling the burn he had acquired earlier while preparing their dinner. His eyes wandered absently as the mundanity of the task dawned on him. He hated cleaning, but he also hated mess. During his life his dislikes cancelled each other out constantly until he forced himself to succumb to whichever was easier. As an adult he had learnt to clean as he went, making his life considerably more enjoyable.

Tenzo smiled at him from his place on the couch, tired eyes glazed as they made contact, his stomach pleasantly full and his mind drained. Kakashi smiled back briefly, before his eyes returned to the table under him.

Technically it was Tenzo’s night to cook. He realised as he turned to wash the rag in the sink. But it had been a long time now since those days. Back before the war when things were relatively normal. They would squabble over whose turn it was, regularly trading favours for the chance to sit down after a beautiful meal and not have to clean up. It all seemed irrelevant now. Kakashi thought as warm water ran streams over his hand, irritating his burn.

He would gladly cook and clean for the rest of his life if it meant that Tenzo was here with him.

He would never in his life forget the moment that he had been told Tenzo was missing. The moment his world caved in around him, his head swirling and the anguish deep in his gut as he nodded and outwardly projected the fact that he was fine. Looking out into a sea of faces, shinobi, soldiers. That he was the leader of and wondering how he would ever manage to take another step unassisted when his beloved was gone.

He shook his head slightly, the thoughts dissipating on their own as he slowed his quickened breath. Hand clutching desperately at the sink in front of him as he forced his eyes to focus on something here in this room. He ran his tongue along the top of his mouth, swallowing and remembering the taste of dinner as he exhaled slowly. Over the years he had eventually learnt the signs of an impending panic attack and at the age of 30 was finally able to dispel them if he was fast enough. It didn’t work all of the time, but enough. Enough to hold on to the lie that he was stable, that he was okay, that he was worthy.

He straightened as if nothing had happened, continuing with the dishes in an attempt to distract himself from where he knew his mind was headed.

It was no secret that Tenzo had been suffering since the war. Experiencing his own renewed version of PTSD much more severe than that he suffered as a child. While the rest of Konoha’s soldiers were fighting, he was being tortured underground, just out of reach.

Kakashi had been taking care of him to the best of his ability. Knowing the pain his lover was in all he wanted to do was help to stop it. Unfortunately for him knowing how the pain feels doesn’t mean knowing how to end it. If he knew those secrets he would not have been suffering for so long himself.

Regardless of if this was new to him or not Tenzo seemed to be handling it differently to Kakashi. Looking forwards and putting his experiences in a positive light. He would be ready for active duty again soon. Something that scared Kakashi to no end. He had almost lost his lover once. He wasn’t keen on the idea of feeling those emotions again. The anxiety that came with Tenzo leaving on his own.

And he would be on his own…

He thought to himself sadly; his thoughts shifting to the heaviest burden on his shoulders of late. Tsunade was expecting him to take over her post. He suspected that she held back from bringing it up as much as she wanted to out of respect for his post-war grieving. But she had been hounding him recently, weary of her own position and wanting to pass the torch.

It was an honour to become Hokage. Everyone knew that. But he didn’t want that particular torch. He had never strived for this to be his endgame. He lived for the mission, for protecting the village with his strength, not through piles of paper work.

The Jonin sighed aloud, feeling heaviness settle in his gut as he thought about the repercussions of turning down the position. It wasn’t really an option, but he liked to think it was, if only to stave off the nervousness for another few days.

How could he really protect anyone anyway? He wondered absently, his eyes flicking to the side to roam over his tired lover’s frame.

He hadn’t been able to protect Tenzo during the war. He hadn’t been able to protect anyone… In fact he had caused that war. His failed promise to Obito sparking a worldwide conflict that took thousands of lives.

Minato and Kushina… Had he kept his promise and let Rin live they would not have had to die. Naruto would have been born in to a happy young family and no one else would have lost their loves ones in the Nine Tails Attack either.

These thoughts had all been too much for him on that first night back in the village. Lying in the infirmary on his own, staring at the ceiling and wondering why out of all the people in the world he was chosen to live through it all. To be the one that suffered.

He supposed he deserved it for all the wrong he had done. He had decided as the kunai they had failed to take from him, slit his wrists slowly; deliberately.

He apologised so many times for not being stronger. For giving up and trying to let go instead of staying around to bare the pain of his mistakes any longer. He couldn’t live in this world any more. Not when nearly every precious person he had was gone. Not when his most precious person of all wasn’t with him anymore due to his own failure.

Sakura had found him. Glassy green eyes looming over him as he woke up and realised he was still stuck here. He had been confused, he had taken every precaution. But they had still managed to save him. He supposed now it was stupid to try and do something to selfish in a hospital of all places. But the pain had gotten the best of him. He worried if he returned home he would chicken out. He was always so afraid of dying alone. But knowing that his special someone would be on the other side to greet him had given him all the courage he needed.

As it turned out, Sakura had come to find him in the middle of the night. Excited to tell him that they had found Tenzo alive and well. An unnamed Jonin stumbled across him by chance, buried under a thin layer of rubble and had physically dragged his unconscious body back to the village.

He hadn’t believed her words at first. Thinking them a cruel trick to tie him to the world of the living. Until she had taken him to see for himself, the wounds on his wrists already healed by her, the only person to know his secret shame.

He had never told Tenzo what he had done. Not wanting to burden the other man even further with the knowledge that he could not live without him. It remained a secret between himself and Sakura. He suspected that perhaps Tsunade knew as well, which was why she was pushing so hard to get him in to a desk job and off the field.

He looked over at his lover once more, his body slumped lazily in to the corner of the couch as he flicked through a book he had bought earlier in the day. He obviously felt the other man’s gaze, looking up and meeting his eyes before smiling softly once more. Kakashi smiled back, unable to muster more than that before returning to his chore.

Tenzo frowned as the other man turned away. He had been taking special note of his lover’s behaviour the last few weeks. Taking the opportunity while he himself was unwell to assess Kakashi when he least expected it. He could see the signs of mental fatigue every time he looked to his partner’s face. His tired eyes never shone like they used to.

Tsunade had been pressuring him of late to take up the Hokage position. But he knew that inside that was not something Kakashi wanted, whether he stated it or not. If he was being honest it was not something Tenzo himself wanted either. The only upside Kakashi seemed to be able to see about taking the job was being able to assign his loved one’s missions. Being the first to know as soon as they arrived home and generally nosing in to their lives to make himself feel better. He was not looking forward to Kakashi being the one that assigned his missions. Even if he never went back to the ANBU and stayed on as Team 7’s leader he knew Kakashi would make it his own personal task to dictate which missions they did and did not take out of fear of losing them. Or more specifically him.

He felt he should probably be flattered that his life meant so much to his lover. But he was not someone that liked being coddled. He had personally found it difficult this last year being a part of team 7 purely because with Kakashi as his superior he felt he was not being allowed to reach his full potential. Something that Kakashi was not holding him back from on purpose, he was sure.

Regardless of whether Kakashi took the Hokage post or not Tenzo found himself itching to get back to active duty. He hated all the sitting around. He had already read several books in the last few weeks and wasn’t really interested in starting any more. He needed work to keep him interested, to make him feel alive.

He knew Kakashi didn’t want him to return to active duty. But this was nonnegotiable in his mind. He was going to sooner rather than later. He was getting better every day, more and more mentally stable as time moved on. He had gotten a small glimpse of Kakashi’s past suffering with his own bout of PTSD and he had hated every second of it. Choosing instead of wallowing and thinking of death to live life to its fullest and love to its end. He was ready to get out and experience things. Being held up inside their apartment was torture for him.

A sad smile crossed his features as he felt guilt slowly start to ebb in to his stomach. He knew how much Kakashi was enjoying it and felt he should probably at least try to relish the time off together as well.

His thoughts were interrupted as the man in question slipped slowly on to the couch next to him. Having finished the dishes he wiped his hand on his sweat pants as he pulled his legs up to cross them underneath himself. He exhaled through his nose, somewhere between a sigh and a moan as he leant back in to the cushy fabric.

“Are you just gunna read?” he asked softly, dark eyes flicking towards the forgotten book Tenzo still held in one hand. Tenzo turned it over slowly, thinking for a minute before shaking his head and inching himself closer to his partner.

“I thought we could talk.” He said in a way that left no room for argument. Something flittered across the other man’s face briefly before he schooled it to his usual, bored, neutral expression.

“Hmm?” He hummed in a noncommittal manner. The question unmistakeable for someone that knew him so well.

“What’s on your mind?” The brunette asked, placing his book on the coffee table before inspecting his own nails nonchalantly. Kakashi frowned he wasn’t really in the mood for talking. He was looking forward to a quiet evening reading or watching a movie. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately and fatigue was starting to settle in after cooking, eating and cleaning for the past 2 hours.

“Nothing.” He answered simply, figuring the best way to avoid the heart to heart was to play it off as him being fine. He knew this wouldn’t work with Tenzo, but it was worth a try.

“I saw you thinking hard over there.” Tenzo whispered, gently trying to broach the subject as he gestured towards the kitchen with his head. Kakashi scoffed lightly, folding his arms in a defensive manner before answering.

“Just thinking about how lazy you are.” He joked, trying his best to dispel the situation with a jab. Tenzo cocked his head in an exasperated manner that screamed ‘really?’

“It was your turn.” He replied flatly, folding his own arms and sitting back; refusing to get drawn in to an argument. He was sure Kakashi was only kidding, as was he. But he had been feeling guilty lately for allowing Kakashi to do so much for him. He hadn’t cooked in weeks and they were both aware of it. He couldn’t help feeling a little defensive at the mention.

“It’s fine.” Kakashi assured, feeling a sudden and unexplained tension fill the space between them before he spoke. “I don’t mind.” He added in an effort to make Tenzo understand just how unimportant the matter was. “I’d do anything to keep you around.” He admitted softly, looking down at his lap and wondering where those words had manifested from.

“Kakashi…” Tenzo said slowly, his eyes downcast as he uncrossed his arms and assumed a more open posture. “Is that why you’ve been doing everything for me without question lately?” He asked, his throat dry as he awaited the answer. Kakashi shook his head in response, the lie clear without him having to speak a word. There was a small silence before he finally spoke, looking up at Tenzo with large, lazy eyes filled to the brim with nothing but adoration.

“You’ve been through so much. I just want you to be comfortable while you recover.” He explained, picking aggressively at a loose thread on a couch cushion next to him in an effort to take himself out of the situation.

Tenzo’s brows knitted as he tried to make sense of the other man’s words. Physically he had been recovered for a few weeks now. He didn’t need anyone to help him do anything anymore.

He must be speaking mentally…

He decided, moving slowly closer and placing a gentle hand on his lover’s leg.

“I appreciate it.” He started, pausing while he thought of the right words. “But I’m not going to leave you if you ask me to do the cleaning once in a while.” He smiled, a soft chuckle escaping at the absurdity of Kakashi’s fears. The other man looked at him curiously, one eye brow cocked and the other knitted in a half frown.

“That’s not what I meant.” He said bluntly. Leaving a baffled Tenzo to try and figure out his cryptic clues.

Kakashi went back to staring at his own legs, wishing someone would save him from this uncomfortable situation. His strange plea had hit on deaf ears and he didn’t feel much like explaining himself. He was far too exhausted.

“You’re talking about me returning to duty.” Tenzo said aloud as he realised it. Kakashi stayed silent, answering the question with his lack of response. “I have to go back.” The brunette argued. “They need active Shinobi, there are others that suffered far greater than me and need the time off more than I do. Take Guy for example…”

“Don’t bring him in to this.” Kakashi interjected, his voice firm at the mention of his friend.

“But it’s true.” Tenzo justified, shrugging his arms as he continued speaking. “He probably won’t be able to work again and I can. He needs the rest, I need to work.”

“Stop it.” Kakashi snapped, looking up at his lover, fierce eyes brimming with tears. “Stop reminding me.” He said shakily, glaring through the wetness at his partner’s stunned expression. He hadn’t seen Kakashi cry voluntarily since the war. He had wiped stray tears in the dead of night but he had not held him to calm sobs of anguish in a long time. He had wondered if the other man had been hiding it, or just holding in all the pain until one day he inevitably snapped. He feared that today may be this day.

“Kakashi…” He said slowly, unsure why Guy was a sore subject. “I’m sorry, I just meant there are people that suffered more than I did…”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Kakashi asked incredulously. “I was there. I saw the suffering first hand. I caused it; and I couldn’t protect any of them from it. Not you or Guy or anyone else!” He shouted, his arm trembling as he pointed towards the brunette. “It’s my fault that Guy can’t walk anymore.” He said shakily. “It’s my fault.” He repeated, taking in a stuttered breath as Tenzo moved to sit right in front of him.

“I can’t lose you Tenzo.” Kakashi whispered, his hands coming up to hold the other man’s face. “I can’t lose you again.” He said, barely more than a whisper as Tenzo watched his tears finally spill over.

“You’re not losing me.” Tenzo assured him softly, his palms covering Kakashi’s pale hands and bringing them to his own waist. He rested them there lightly before moving forward and enveloping the older man in a hug. Kakashi relented, hunching over and allowing his head to be pillowed by Tenzo’s strong chest.

“It’s not your fault.” He whispered, a hand running soothingly through dirty silver hair while the other ran small circles over his back. Kakashi squirmed uncomfortably at the statement.

“If I hadn’t of killed Ri…”

“Stop.” Tenzo ordered, using his best Captain voice to cut Kakashi off. He felt the other man tense briefly before relaxing again in to the embrace and waiting for his lover’s argument. “Regardless of what happened in your past… This war was not your fault. Madara had no qualms with you. If not Obito he would have prayed on another Uchiha. Surely Obito was not the only one to have lost someone dear to him. There would have been others…” He paused. “Obito was delusional.” Tenzo finished, making Kakashi jump. He pushed the brunette away roughly and sat up, staring at him as though he had said the sky was pink.

“Don’t you speak about things you don’t understand.” Kakashi growled, bringing the back of his hand up to wipe his face.

“I do understand.” Tenzo countered. Guy had told him everything once they had recovered enough to visit. Tenzo was desperate to know what had gone on during the war. He had heard whispers of Obito’s name but Kakashi had been yet to mention it. As it turned out, Guy had been fighting to see him for quite a while, feeling the need to explain everything before Kakashi had the chance to tell Tenzo the facts from his own equally delusional point of view.

Guy had explained what had transpired, leaving no aspect to the imagination. Every abusive word that Obito had uttered towards Kakashi had been expressed through Guy’s tearful eyes. He had spared no detail in the hopes that Tenzo would be prepared for when Kakashi opened up about the subject. However it seemed that he had forgotten to take in to account Kakashi’s ever present hero worship.

“You don’t! He was a hero!” Kakashi snapped. “He wanted to be Hokage and he should be. He should be here right now, taking that seat, not me!” He yelled, his breathing fast as his tears began anew. “I should have died, not him. He deserved to live, I don’t.” Kakashi stated as though it was absolute fact. Tenzo watched him sadly, his expression one of a man that had been defeated.

“Okay.” The younger man said steadily, reaching out very slowly to take a hold of Kakashi’s accusing hand. Once more he pulled it down, this time leaving it to sit in his lap as he rubbed his thumb over the palm in a calming motion. “Obito was a hero.” Tenzo conceded. Kakashi obviously was not ready to see Obito’s actions as abusive. Months later he was still reeling from the shock of him being alive. He supposed the healing wouldn’t be able to begin until at least after he had accepted that fact. For now he needed to hold on to the Obito he remembered him as. The Obito he wished he was rather than the Obito he turned out to be. Tenzo could understand that.

“He was.” Kakashi agreed, looking sceptically towards his lover and wondering what had triggered his change of heart. Tenzo pulled him close once more; he didn’t resist. He would work on changing Kakashi’s view over time. It was not his goal to change his perception of Obito per se, but to at least change how he perceived himself. All those lonely years spent thinking he was trash for failing to protect Rin only to have those feelings validated by someone he had been mourning for 2 decades. Kakashi had done all he could to protect Rin. To protect his comrades during the war and to protect him when he had been captured. It was delusional to think he could have prevented or stopped any of these things at all. But Obito had made him believe that all of these things along with all of the shortcomings of the Shinobi world was his fault. He needed to realise how untrue all of this was. That he himself is a hero that should be worshipped and is worthy of becoming Hokage even if he is slightly mentally unstable.

“You’ve been keeping a lot from me haven’t you?” Tenzo asked quietly, his breath ruffling Kakashi’s hair. The other man stilled before nodding slightly. “Why?” The brunette asked casually, not really expecting an answer. Kakashi shrugged, unable to form words. He sniffed, softly nuzzling his nose harder in to the other man’s sternum.

The silence stretched between them long, yet oddly peaceful. Tenzo shifted slightly to rest his back on the seat of the couch, moving Kakashi with him as he went so that he was lying firmly on his chest. The silver haired man let himself be manoeuvred however was comfortable for his partner. It had been a long time since he had sought his comfort, not wanting to burden the other man with his problems during his own mental recovery.

“You have a lot going on.” Kakashi finally answered, startling the brunette as it had been at least 5 minutes since he asked the question. Tenzo nodded, knowing Kakashi could see him from the corner of his eye.

“That doesn’t matter to me.” Tenzo said softly, his hand moving to stroke lightly over his partner’s cheek. “You’ve had more going on in your lifetime than I could ever fathom. It would be incredibly selfish of me to assume my own experience during the war was worse than yours.” He whispered.

Kakashi stared across the room, not really focused on anything in particular.

“You were tortured.” He said quietly, his hand fisting in the other man’s shirt.

“So were you.” Tenzo countered, leaving the rest of his thought unsaid. He knew Kakashi was smart enough to catch his meaning. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to hold things back from me for my own sake.” Tenzo continued. “I need you to know this is a safe place and you can tell me anything.” He explained, hands now running slowly over Kakashi’s back and side, lulling him in to a sense of security.

“I know.” Kakashi mumbled, his thoughts losing traction as he leant in to Tenzo’s soothing touch. Another silence enveloped them as he enjoyed the sensation of feeling safe and secure in the other man’s arms.

“You know after experiencing how you’ve lived your life for the last 20ish years I feel like I have more of an understanding of who you are and why.” Tenzo remarked, looking down to meet Kakashi’s eye and snickering to himself when he realised the other man was asleep. It hadn’t taken long.

He hadn’t slept right in months now. Always awake, always waiting for an attack, always protecting. When sleep did grace him with its presence he was never asleep for long, always waking up in cold sweat or tears.

It’s his turn now…

Tenzo thought to himself, petting lightly along the other man’s spine. He had worked so hard in the last few months to make sure Tenzo’s own recovery was smooth and it had been worth his effort. He was finding himself waking to nightmares less and less. His paranoia was almost completely gone due to Kakashi’s vigilance and the general negative feelings he had been experiencing since the war had subsided in to acceptance of those events.

He had healed fast and well. It was Kakashi’s turn to be taken care of now. He would do everything in his power to make sure that he recovered from his ordeal and felt fit enough to take to the Hokage chair before Tsunade imploded from impatience. Even if that meant not returning to active duty for another couple of months.

“I’d do anything to keep you around.” Tenzo whispered, repeating his lover’s sentiment from earlier as his hand ran slowly over the barely there, obviously medically healed scars on his lover’s wrists.

End.

48 notes · View notes

jjoycesuggestions · 7 years

Text

(Going to go ahead and post this, I apologize in advance for any errors I may have missed.)

If there was one thing James Joyce couldn’t stand it was idiots.

Seated at his desk he buried his face into the stacks of paper around him. No, that was a lie, there were some idiots he could stand. He was surrounded by them after all, it was inevitable that he’d developed a tolerance to at least some forms of idiocy. No, it was spineless idiots that he couldn’t stand.

The kind of people who wouldn’t stand up for what they wanted not because they couldn’t find the strength, or the courage, but because they just couldn’t be bothered to give a damn about anything that really mattered. Those who would watch the water fill in the room around them and eventually drown when the escape was right there. Those who could survive if they only made the effort. But no, instead they just stood there and complained about the water rising around them, claiming that they were powerless to do anything when there was nothing stopping them.

Yes, it was those kinds of people that Joyce couldn’t stand, and it was that kind of person that his friend had turned out to be.

Perhaps he’d made a mistake by attempting to befriend Ivan.

He’d thought it would be good for him at first. Sure the man was bit annoying, but he managed to actually get Joyce out the door more than anyone had in the last several years when he was alive. He could be a pain, but other times he wasn’t necessarily bad company when it came down to it. But he should have taken that whining as a sign, he should have guess the truth sooner. Because when life had reared it’s ugly head and applied pressure, Ivan caved like a fortune cookie under a hammer, giving way and allowing lies and denial to take his place.

An organization tied only to greed and ambition? Ivan that idiot, he didn’t understand the Guild at all.

It wasn’t an organization of greed and ambition, or at least it hadn’t started that way, granted he hadn’t been around since it’s beginning, but it used to be different.

He’d been there with them since he was young. Trapped between a sheer mountain and a cliff, they’d offered him a slim path out. A chance to keep moving on when he was ready to give up.

Why did they use him as an assassin? Because he was good at it. Why? For the same reason he was back here now. Why even after everything he hadn’t taken the offer of eternal slumber that came with moving. Because he wasn’t done yet. Because even after giving all he could in life he still had things he wanted to do. Because they had taught him that every step required one hundred and ten percent of your resolve for it to really count. Never let yourself dream of the what could have beens. The what ifs. You had to take life into your own hands. Because even death stops nothing.

The Guild gave people like him another chance, like the rest of them. It offered a slap in the face to all the stupidity around them.

Sure it had changed, organizations seldom didn’t at the passing of leadership, but it still fulfilled the same role. Motivation, ambition, and spite, whether for selfless or selfish reason they were all the same in the end. They kept you alive. They kept you fighting.

That’s why he’d stayed, and that’s why he’d come back even after everything. And it was the same reason that he hadn’t been the least bit surprised to see Herman Melville still there when he’d walked through that door. There was no question in his mind that Francis was an idiot, that ninety percent of his co-workers were also idiots. But whether they could see it or not they were also relatable. They were all living for the same reasons.

But Ivan. Oh Ivan. Whereas Joyce had pledged his heart and soul to the Guild, Ivan had done the same to that House of the Rats only for all the wrong reasons. The Guild may be corrupt but it’s heart was still there lurking somewhere in the darkness. But the House of the Rats had no heart, if Ivan was looking for the organization tied completely with ambition and greed then he had to look no further than to his own god damn people.

No, Joyce couldn’t understand. He wouldn’t. Because way back then he’d made a conscious choice. He’d started giving a damn about letting the world kick him around. There was relief in lies yes, but there was more relief in finally getting up and doing something instead of groveling on your hands and knees and hoping it would be merciful the next time. If you wanted something you had to do it yourself. Or at the very least find the people who weren’t going to use you the same way it was and do it with them.

Maybe he was a hypocrite, hell he worked for the king of hypocrites in a way, but even Francis was leagues ahead of Fyodor.

But Ivan didn’t see that. That man was his lord and savior. Hell Fyodor was practically his God, and it made Joyce sick to watch. He couldn’t change Ivan’s mind about Fyodor as much as he’d like to, at least not right now. But he might be able to change his mind about Q, stop him from making another idiotic move out of cowardice and fear to add to the pile.

Ivan loved Q, he was sure of that. The problem was that neither the man or the child really knew what love was and, therefore didn’t understand how to deal with it, or with the falls that came with it. Q was headstrong and didn’t like to put up with anyone who tried to hold him down, even to the point that it meant pushing others away instead of accepting that he couldn’t handle everything himself. Ivan meanwhile was the image of a stereotypical perfect servant, obedient to fault and willing to follow his master’s orders without question, afraid to act and think for himself, especially when things got hard. It was the picture perfect example of the things that annoyed Joyce the most, and yet the he had to admit that he was drawn to the man.

Because there were moments when he saw another side to Ivan. A more independent side, a side that was willing to fight and a side that wasn’t so easily pushed back into place. He saw it when they fought, when Ivan fought with Gide, when they pushed him to edge of his comfort zone. On that line he was terrifying and beautiful, but the minute you pushed him across he would panic and fold back up, all that independence swallowed up by the void.

He wasn’t sure why he was doing this. He was barely involved in the affairs of the Guild anymore, aside from simply managing the day-to-day paperwork. Compared to that the House of Rats wasn’t anywhere his level of concern, and the welfare of it’s butler should be even less so. Not to mention when it came commitment Joyce was out more times than he was all in. It was easier swallow, better on his sanity. Also Ivan was an idiot.

But this was not simply a problem he would walk away from, especially not with his own recent actions leaving him far more ensnared in the troubles than he would have liked. Leaving this to fester and boil would only lead to worse headaches in the future, given no doubt by both Q and Ivan. Or possibly worse.

No, he was all in. Out of pure selfishness, spite, and mercy to his future self’s already aching head, he was going to do this.

Stepping away from the roses and the window he carefully relocated several stacks of paper on his desk before he got to work.

Ivan was lucky he was goddamn pretty.

#muns writing;

7 notes · View notes