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bnha-free-writing · 4 years

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Hi guys! I hope you enjoy this fluff piece! Special thanks to @shoutodoki and @burnedbyshoto for allowing me to tag them in this piece! I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoy your works!

Pairing: Shoto x Reader

Warnings: Fluff ahead! (Some angst too...)

Word Count: 5.3k

Rated: E for Everyone (Like Shouto's hands)

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Key:

(Y/N) - Reader’s name

(L/N) - Reader’s last name

(s/t) - Skin tone

(h/l) - Hair length

(h/t) - Hair texture/type

(h/c) - Hair color

(e/c) - Eye color

(Y/H/N) - Reader’s Hero Name

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When Shoto Todoroki first began his education at U.A., he never thought that he would make any friends. His goal had been simply to become the best hero. There was absolutely no plan of making friends. And he definitely wasn’t looking to find love.

But apparently, fate had other things in mind. In his three years at U.A., he met so many people, made some close friends, but none closer than (Y/N) (L/N). The girl that kept him anchored to the ground when things got rough. When his father was involved in a tough battle on TV, (Y/N) had held him in a reassuring hug until the fight ended. When training led to injury, she was the first to help him to Recovery Girl.

It hadn’t been an immediate friendship. She had started out their first year by making friends with Ochako Uraraka and Tsuyu Asui. He was so wrapped up in his goals that it took over a week before he finally noticed her. But then, one day in class, he got a paper cut. He had winced and out of the corner of his hetero-chromatic eyes, he watched as a bandage was slid onto the edge of his desk. He looked over at the (h/c) girl in confusion. She had been sitting right beside him and all she did was offer a soft smile before returning to taking notes.

After that, she would occasionally sit across from him at lunch. He was sitting alone at the time, curious as to why she would abandon her friends twice a week to start up small talk with him. But she was persistent and eventually, he had gotten used to her presence.

“Why are you here,” he had finally asked aloud.

“I want to be a hero, silly,” she had replied, confusion clear on her features.

“No, I mean why are you sitting here with me.”

“You looked lonely and I think you need a friend. It’s that simple,” she beamed.

After that, their lunch for that day fell into silence. He didn’t understand.

At the Sports Festival, she put up a hell of a fight. Her quirk might not have been the strongest, but she fought hard to earn her place. With that, she had earned his respect.

After that, their conversations became more frequent. Then, it was him joining her at Uraraka and Midoriya’s table. No longer was she abandoning her friend group, because slowly but surely he became a part of it.

By second year, there were frequent movie nights, the girl showing him her favorite movies, a kind of enjoyment his father never would have allowed. They would sit on the edge of her bed sharing laughter and (though he would never admit it) occasional tears. She introduced him to kinds of joy that he never thought possible.

Some days, it was enough to just sit on opposite sides of the room in comfortable silence. She would be curled up on her bean bag chair, sketching, while he would sit on her bed, working his way through her personal library. Other days it was laughter and talking as she taught him how to cook. She would joke that it was ironic because, despite having a fire quirk, he was a bit clueless in the kitchen.

She was a relaxing figure in his life, one of the kindest people he had ever met. Despite the fact that he could be rather cold and socially oblivious, she understood him. She was his best friend. But about halfway through their third year at U.A., something changed. It was a slow change, but it wasn’t necessarily a bad one.

It started with a moment, just a moment, where he saw her sitting at the foot of the stairs outside of Heights Alliance, waiting for him to come back from shopping for the supplies for the dorm. She was reading a book, the sun shining on her (s/t) skin, the wind blowing through her (h/l), (h/t) (h/c) locks, her soft, (e/c) orbs focused on the page in front of her. He found himself stopping, admiring the way she bit her bottom lip and her eyebrows knitted together as she focused. For that one moment, he found his mind going blank.

The only thought his mind could process was, ‘She’s beautiful.’

And as suddenly as it started, it drifted away the second she noticed his arrival and called his name.

After that, it was downhill from there. When she would grab his wrist to drag him to lunch like she did every day, his heart would race and his cheeks would warm. She was suddenly in his dreams, her radiant smile filling his thoughts. He found himself getting lost in thought every time their eyes would meet.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t wrap his head around why he felt this way. They had been friends long enough that he couldn’t think of why he was feeling this way. He tried to Google these feelings, but heart racing and sweaty palms only brought up the results of ‘cancer.’

He was pretty sure that he was not dying, yet he was still unsure of what was wrong. For weeks, these feelings had been taunting him, her smile invading his thoughts, his dreams, everything. At one point, he had a dream about her that made his quirk activate in his sleep. He wound up waking up in the middle of the night to the sprinklers going off, aggravating his classmates. While the rest were angry, she had been hell-bent on ensuring that he was okay.

It wasn’t until they were watching a movie with the rest of the class (even Bakugo) in the common area that he finally got a clue. She was squished between himself and Bakugo, when about halfway through the movie he felt a sudden weight on his left shoulder. He looked down to see her head resting on his shoulder, her breathing even as she slept peacefully. He smiled softly, resting his own head against hers.

“Awww,” he heard the soft coo of Uraraka, followed by soft whispers.

He attempted to drown out their voices when he heard Ashido whisper, “They’re so cute together. When are Todoroki and (L/N) gonna finally admit that they’re in loooove?”

His hetero-chromatic eyes shot open as Ashido’s words processed in his brain. The pinkette had never been very good at being quiet, but for once he was grateful.

He thought, ‘Is that what this is?’ as his heart beat became nearly deafening in his ears.

Shortly after the movie finished, Todoroki lifted (Y/N) into his arms, taking her to her dorm room. Her eyes fluttered as she slept peacefully in his arms. Once he got her to her dorm, he laid her on the bed, carefully covering her with a blanket. It took all of his self control to leave, rather than holding her in his arms through the night.

The next day was no better. Now that he knew what this feeling was, her very existence made him flustered, though he hid it quite well. He was constantly fighting to keep his eyes off of her.

The more time that went by, the more Todoroki was terrified that it would get to the point that he would miss out on any chance he had with her. As a third year student, she had plenty of exposure as a hero in training. She already had several fan sites, seeing as she worked under the Pro Hero, Edgeshot. He wasn’t oblivious to her popularity and unlike himself, she was very good with her fans.

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It was a rare event to have Endeavor and Edgeshot’s agencies team up, yet Todoroki found himself fighting back to back with (Y/N) against a large group of thugs. Their mentors had delegated the two of them to the low level goons while the two of them raced ahead to take on the main boss, Terminator. While their opponents’ fighting was erratic, the two of them fought nearly completely synchronized. Within minutes, they were down to a few opponents.

Once they were done with the low level thugs, the two of them were quick to join their mentors against the big boss. The man had a powerful quirk, and had four higher ranking members of his crew to play guard. It wasn’t an easy fight, but the second (Y/N) had taken down two of the higher ranking members, the boss had slightly nodded his head in her direction.

Nobody saw it coming, as a fifth underling had been hiding in the rafters, awaiting for when she was signaled for. As (Y/N) turned to help Todoroki, the fifth underling dropped down behind her, undetected until she slammed (Y/N) into a wall, knocking her unconscious as her head smacked against the scarlet brick wall.

The vibrations of the impact drew the attention of Todoroki and the two Pro Heroes. Todoroki’s hetero-chromatic orbs widened, and before either of his opponents could register what was going on, he had them frozen solid from the neck down.

He immediately turned his focus solely upon the woman that had caused (Y/N)’s injury. The woman had a quirk that allowed her to be as strong as five men, and she was fast on her own. The woman charged at Todoroki, but he was quick to use his ice to slip away, simultaneously knocking the woman off balance. As she slipped around on the ice, struggling to regain her footing, he used this time to his advantage, freezing her much like he had done with her cohorts.

As soon as he was done with her, he turned his attention to Endeavor and Edgeshot, who were restraining the boss.

“Shoto! Go check on (Y/H/N),” Edgeshot shouted.

Todoroki quickly moved to (Y/N)’s side, her body still as he checked her pulse. It was faint and he knew he couldn’t move her without the possibility of causing more damage. Blood was dripping from the back of her head, her body looked paler, and all he could do was stare in shock.

He could barely process a thing as the paramedics arrived, moving her onto a gurney. Edgeshot rode along in the ambulance while Todoroki and Endeavor stayed behind and answered questions for the police.

Once they were cleared, Todoroki made his way to the hospital, immediately finding himself in the waiting room.

“She’s in surgery. I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything,” Edgeshot promised.

“Thank you, sir.”

The two of them sat for hours, their eyes completely trained on the operating room door. There were no words between them. Simply (Y/N)’s mentor and best friend, each sitting with a heavy feeling in the air between them.

With each passing hour without word on her condition, Todoroki steadily grew more anxious. Eventually, he even found himself pacing and that’s when Edgeshot stepped in, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Shoto, she is going to be alright. She’s a tough kid. I know she’s your friend. You’re all she talks about when we get the chance to talk. You guys are close. You of all people should know that she’s tougher than this. She’ll get through it, kid.”

“I know. I just… I don’t know what I can do.”

“You can’t change it. All you can do is be there for her.”

It was then that the doctor walked up to them, pulling Edgeshot aside. Once he returned to Todoroki’s side, he was quick to fill Todoroki in.

“So, there was mild head injury, which is what knocked her unconscious. They put her in surgery because one of her ribs broke and they needed to set it properly before they could call in Recovery Girl to speed up the healing process. However she wasn’t able to heal her completely. She’s going to stay here under observation for the rest of the week.”

“When can we see her,” Todoroki asked.

“She’s still asleep. Between the surgery and Recovery Girl’s treatment, she’s exhausted. They said one of us could sit with her, so long as we don’t disturb her rest. I’ll let you sit with her first.”

Todoroki simply nodded before heading over to the nurse so he could be escorted to her room. Once he arrived at her room, he quietly pulled up a chair to her bedside.

Her eyelids fluttered as she slept and he found himself letting out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He laid his head on the edge of her bed, allowing himself to truly relax for the first time in hours. His eyelids grew heavy as he drifted off to sleep, having found solace by her side.

Todoroki woke to the morning sunlight peeking through the window. His eyes opened and he found himself looking up at (Y/N)’s resting face. Her eyelids fluttered as she slept, still in the same state she had been when he had drifted off.

Why the doctors hadn’t woken him was beyond him, but he certainly wasn’t going to complain. It almost felt wrong to be sitting there, watching her sleep. Yet that was the least of his concerns. He wondered if she had woken yet at any point.

“You’re awake,” he heard from a voice behind him. He turned to see Edgeshot leaning against the door frame. “She hasn’t woken up yet. But I told them to let you stay.”

“Have the doctors said anything?”

“Apparently her heart monitor has been steady, no complications.”

“That’s good,” Todoroki replied, letting out a sigh of relief.

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments before a light groan broke through the air.

“(Y/N),” Todoroki called softly, hoping to hear her sweet voice reply.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus,” (Y/N)’s voice croaks out.

The second he heard her voice, Todoroki whipped around, his hetero-chromatic orbs meeting her (e/c) ones.

He had never thought he would be that happy to hear someone’s voice, yet there he was. To his ears, her voice was that of an angel calling him to heaven. There was nothing short of amazement in his eyes as he looked at her as though her body was made of gold and her (e/c) orbs were made of the rarest gems. This woman was his everything.

His thoughts were broken as her scratchy voice pierced the air once more. “Sh-Shoto… Is there any way I could get a glass of water?”

“Of course, give me just a moment,” he replied before turning to the sink in her room and quickly pouring her a glass, his hands shaking.

“Good to see you’re awake, kid. I’ll let Todoroki here talk you through what happened. I’ll call your parents to let them know you’re awake,” Edgeshot replied before leaving the room.

Todoroki watched as (Y/N) carefully drank her water and he waited for her to finish drinking before he began to speak. “So what’s the last thing you remember?”

Her voice was soft as she replied, “I remember we were going into the main compound building and we got caught up fighting some higher level goons. I beat the two I was dealing with and then… I turned to help you. But I don’t remember anything after that.”

“Well, that’s good. You aren’t missing much time. Basically, there was another high level goon up in the rafters. She'd been hiding there, waiting for a signal. Detectives figured out that she was Terminator’s right hand. He must have given her a signal because she jumped down and tossed you into a wall… Apparently you were knocked unconscious on impact.”

“Your injuries weren’t too bad. Recovery Girl came in and healed you after they did surgery to set your broken rib. They just want to keep you under observation until Friday night to make sure that you are okay.”

(Y/N) simply nodded before she spoke, “Are you okay, Shoto?”

“You’re the one in a hospital bed and you’re asking me if I’m okay,” Todoroki replied, confusion clear on his features.

“Todoroki… You look like you haven’t slept.”

He sat down in the chair beside her bed, looking down at his hands as a blush grew on his cheeks. “I… I actually slept right here. I never left here last night.”

Todoroki glanced up as he felt a light pressure applied to his head. (Y/N) had softly placed her hand on his head, lightly ruffling his hair. Their eyes met for only a second before she pulled her hand away and they both darted their eyes to their laps.

“Hey guys, I figured you’d be hungry, so I brought some breakfast… And… Why do you two look like tomatoes,” Edgeshot spoke as he entered the room once more.

Neither of the teens dared to speak a word as the Pro Hero rolled his eyes.

Todoroki thought that spending the week without (Y/N) being in class would be difficult. But if anything, her absence made concentrating easier. He was writing down notes non-stop, making sure to cover every lesson in as much detail as possible, even comparing notes with Midoriya and Yaoyorozu during lunch to ensure that he hadn’t missed anything.

“Why do you need to take such detailed notes all of a sudden,” Midoriya asked that Monday after school.

His friends all looked at him expectantly as he admitted, “I don’t want (Y/N) to fall behind. So I’m going back to the hospital after school to help her with what she’s missing during class.”

“Awwww, that’s really sweet,” Uraraka cooed. “Can I ask you something, Todoroki?”

“Sure.”

“Todoroki, do you… Do you like (Y/N)? Whatever your answer, it’ll stay between the three of us. I just had to ask seeing as this is the only time I can really ask you without risking her popping up.”

Todoroki looked at Midoriya and Uraraka for a single moment, taking a deep breath before shakily replying, “I… I guess.”

“Todoroki, it’s nothing to be ashamed of! She makes you happy!”

“You should tell her, Todoroki,” Midoriya advises.

“Yes,” Uraraka cheers.

“Well, right now, I have to leave to get these notes to her,” he spoke as he looked at his watch. “I don’t want to miss the train.”

“Bye Todoroki,” Uraraka and Midoriya chorus.

He found himself practically racing to the hospital. When he finally got there, he was surprised to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out the window.

“Hey, (Y/N),” Todoroki spoke slowly, hoping to not startle her.

She turned around slowly, a grin on her face as she spoke, “Shoto! You came! I’m glad. I was worried you wouldn’t have time.”

Though he wouldn’t say it aloud, he knew if it meant seeing her, he would have blown off any assignment. “I told you I’d be here,” he retorted, as he sat down beside her.

“I know,” she replied as she wrapped her arms around him.

As soon as she pulled away from the hug, he pulled out the notes he had worked so hard on all day.

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

After a particularly long training session on Friday afternoon, the only thing Todoroki wanted was a shower. He wasn’t to go visit (Y/N) that day because she was to be released and picked up by Edgeshot that evening. So he had spent his few free hours after school training hard with Midoriya, Bakugo, and Iida.

But when the doors to Heights Alliance opened up, his eyes immediately fell on a figure with (h/c) locks surrounded by her friends. She was dressed in her favorite sweatpants and an All Might T-shirt, looking as stunning as ever. Her (e/c) eyes shined with joy as Uraraka filled her in on what she’s missed throughout the week.

“I missed being here so much,” (Y/N confessed, a pout on her lips.

“Ribbit. We missed you too,” Asui croaked. “Hey, it’s Todoroki.”

(Y/N) looked up from her group of friends and gave him a beaming grin before greeting, “Hey Shoto! Surprise! I got out a couple of hours early! I told Edgeshot if I didn’t get out soon, I’d lose it! So he talked it over with the doctor and they let me out like an hour before classes let out!”

Todoroki couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at her antics.

“Hey, I got tickets for a movie and I got permission for eight of us to go,” Yaoyorozu offered as she approached, a skip in her step.

“That’s great,” Todoroki commented.

“So, I was thinking Todoroki, (Y/N), Uraraka, Midoriya, Tsu, Iida, Kyoka, and myself. We can go tomorrow night, assuming you’re all willing to go! Iida, Midoriya, and Kyoka have already agreed, so...”

“I’ll definitely go,” Uraraka chimed.

“I’d love to! Thanks, Momo,” (Y/N) added, nodding exuberantly.

“Sounds like fun,” Tsu croaks, a smile on her features.

Todoroki found the rest of them looking at him expectantly, waiting for his response. He finally nodded, a small smile on his features.

The next night came quickly and he found himself in awe as Uraraka practically pushed a nearly shy (Y/N) out of the elevator. Her soft, (h/c) locks were pinned back out of her face, her big (e/c) eyes were framed with light makeup and her lips lightly glossed. Her frame was covered by a plain, light blue sundress, a pair of simple flats on her feet.

Uraraka led (Y/N) to his side, practically skipping as she cheered out, “Todoroki! (Y/N) looks super cute, right?”

Todoroki’s eyes widened, not expecting the sudden question. He had literally just been stuck on thinking about how beautiful she looked, yet when it comes down to vocalizing, he finds himself at a loss.

“Ochako, leave him alone,” (Y/N) whispers, her eyes glued to her shoes.

Todoroki felt his heart drop at the sight of the crestfallen expression on her face. He felt as though he was choking on his words, despite a part of him wanting to scream from the rooftops, announcing her beauty to the world. Yet there he stood, his mouth opening and closing in a fish-like fashion, feeling like a fool.

Finally after what felt like hours, he managed to mutter out, “You… You look cute, (Y/N).”

Her head shot up, her (e/c) orbs wide with surprise, a flush on her cheeks, and a small smile on her face.

Finally, Iida comes speeding in, “The movie starts in twenty-five minutes! We should leave immediately to ensure that we are not tardy! It would be unbecoming of esteemed U.A. students to be late!”

Soon enough, the group arrived at the theater, each of them having time to grab their drinks and popcorn. Yaoyorozu was the first to be seated, followed by Jiro, Midoriya, Uraraka, Iida, Tsu, (Y/N), and finally Todoroki at the end.

The title screen seemed innocent enough until the blood started dripping from the words on the screen. It was a horror movie and with every jump-scare, Todoroki watched as (Y/N) jumped and shook more and more. Her hands were tightly clutching the sides of the seat, the white of her knuckles showing through.

Finally, as tears started to prick at her eyes, Todoroki couldn’t watch her like that anymore. He carefully placed one of his hands on her own, immediately gaining her attention as she jerked her head to face him. In that moment, her eyes widened and she threw herself into his arms, crying. At first he was surprised, but as soon as she clutched his shirt, he pulled her into his lap, lightly stroking her (h/c) locks as she shook in his arms. He rested his head atop her own and the hand that wasn’t stroking her hair began to rub slow, calming circles on her back until she fell asleep in his arms.

Once the movie was over, he found himself stirring (Y/N) from her sleep. As he led her sleepy form out of the theater, his arm sling around her protectively, she stayed groggily clung to his shirt. Even on the loud, crowded subway, she didn’t move out from under his arm.

Once the group made their way to the dorms, they were met by the few members of their class that were still awake. Shoto looked down at her, to see her eyes still half open.

Mina was the first to address the pair, “Awww she looks so tired!”

“I forgot to tell everyone that it was a horror movie. (Y/N) didn’t take it well,” Yaoyorozu admitted, nervously twiddling her thumbs. Turning to (Y/N) she pleads, “I really hope you’re not upset with me.”

“I’ll be fine. I just need some sleep,” (Y/N) sleepily mumbles, before attempting to take a step on her own. When the girl practically fell over, Todoroki was quick to catch her and resume their previous stance.

“I’m going to take her up,” he muttered, carefully leading her towards the elevator.

The rest of their class bode them good night as the two disappeared into the elevator, the (h/c) girl still nuzzled into Todoroki’s side.

“Sh-Shoto,” her voice stuttered out, so faintly that he almost missed it.

Luckily he hadn’t, because the second he looked down at her, his heart skipped a beat. She had the cutest expression on her face, her lips slightly parted, her tired eyes looking up at him through her lashes, and a faint pink to her cheeks.

He didn’t know what to expect as she hesitantly raised her hand to cup his face. He was too shocked to move, allowing her to lightly run her thumb over his cheek, just below his scar. Her other hand was still clutched to the back of his shirt, her cheeks darkening as their eyes refused to break contact.

She was too close. He could smell her skin, he could see flecks in her (e/c) orbs, he could practically count her eyelashes. His heart was pounding in his ears, his body unable to move in fear of losing control of himself.

She was exhausted. He shouldn’t be letting this happen, he thought. But a small, selfish part of him wanted to stay like this forever. Her body pressed against him, their eyes locked on one another, and the soft touch of her hand on his face.

She was the first to break eye contact, a sad smile taking its place on her features as the elevator opened.

His eyes widened as she removed her hand from his face and they walked to her room in silence, as though nothing had happened. She unlocked the door and he walked her to her bed.

It was then that he got a good look at her face. The moonlight shone through her window, highlighting the silent tears that were streaming down her cheeks.

“Why are you crying,” he whispered.

“I shouldn’t have done that… In the elevator… I’m sorry, Shoto,” she spoke softly, her sentence broken up by soft sobs. “I don’t want you to hate me… I… I just…”

Her voice broke into nothing but soft sobs.

He took a seat on the edge of her bed, sitting beside her as he pulled her into his arms.

“I… I could never hate you,” he whispered.

For the second time that night, he held her as she cried herself to sleep in his arms.

He didn’t know what to do. He had never been good at expressing his emotions, but, damn, this was a new low for him. He didn’t know why she was sorry for what was just about the best moment of his life. He was just glad that it was a Saturday night, because at this rate he wasn’t sleeping.

He wasn’t sure of anything.

Was she sorry because he froze and she thought he didn’t like it?

Or was she sorry because she knew how he felt and she used that moment to decide that she didn’t feel the same?

But for right now, he was holding her in his arms and, even if this would be the last time it happened, it was enough for him. With his arms still wrapped tightly around her, he laid back, resting his head on the pillow behind them.

When Todoroki woke in the morning, he found himself looking down at (Y/N)’s sleeping form once more. Her eyes were red and puffy from her tears she had shed the night before but what surprised him most was that it appeared that at some point, she had gotten up and changed into pajamas, yet climbed back into bed beside him.

As she laid there, snuggled into his chest, he brushed a lock of hair from her face. It was another one of those moments where all he desired was to freeze time.

But as the light filtered through the window, her eyes scrunched together and she began to stir.

Her eyes fluttered open, looking up at him almost immediately. She smiled softly for a moment, before her eyes widened.

“Shoto, what are you doing here,” she asked slowly, as though she wasn’t sure if she wanted the answer.

“You had a rough night last night. I got you safely to your room and you started crying. So I guess I fell asleep comforting you.”

“I was really hoping that the part that made me cry was a bad dream,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to stay, Shoto.”

“Why are you sorry,” he inquired, not moving from his spot.

“I… I tried to make a move on you? You didn’t like it,” she admitted, looking down at her hands.

“(Y/N), look at me please,” he requested.

When she peeked up at him through her eyelashes, he took her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger bringing her up to face him properly. His other hand gently brushed over her cheek, much like she had done to him the night before.

“I tried to tell you last night. I could never hate you. I liked it... I was surprised. And you weren’t in the right condition for me to give in, even if I was sure that you’d meant it,” he admitted softly.

There was a moment of silence between them before she let out a giggle.

“I was so scared. I was terrified that you didn’t like me back,” she confessed. “I’m an idiot!”

“We were both scared,” he corrected, feeling his cheeks grow warmer. “I thought that when you got injured… I’d never get the chance to tell you.”

“Shoto,” she whispered as she placed her hand over the one that was still absentmindedly stroking the side of her face. “Please, just kiss me.”

His heart jumped into his throat as he carefully moved closer, half expecting to wake up, finding this to be yet another dream. Yet, she closed the small space between them for a soft, hesitant kiss.

His heart was pounding, every cell of his body felt like it was on fire, yet his mind had never been so at ease. When they finally pulled apart, their faces were flushed, a small, dopey grin on each of their faces.

He leaned down to give her a chaste kiss before pulling her into his chest, muttering, “I’m not ready to get out of bed yet.”

With a small yawn, she nuzzled into his chest, pulling a blanket over the two of them as she replied with a light giggle, “You read my mind.”

#bnha shoto #bnha #bnha oneshots #oblivious cinnamon roll boi #shoto todoroki #bnha shouto #todoroki fluff #todoroki shouto #you have no idea how long it took for me to figure out how to do the 'keep reading' thing!

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moons-and-stars-and-shit · 3 years

Note

It worked! Sorry to bug you with a message! But I'd like to request a cake now!

So, about me. I have an actual name but I don't think I've heard it in months😃, instead I have a bunch of nicknames! (Rion, ri, oreo, onion, o, etc), I'm actually nb so I chose that name, however I 100% consider naming myself Arson💀My pronouns are they/them and I'm about 5'5, I have short, fluffy brown hair that I usually dye the front blue. I'm Asian hispanic, but I really don't look like either- my favorite foods are either really spicy and salty or sweet. Not the overwhelming chemical sweet tho, like a natural sweet flavor. My personality type is infp, and ig when I first meet people I can be shy (that's an understatement, I was mute for the first week of school🕳🏃‍♂️) but once I get to know people I can be pretty chaotic (once again, arson). I'm not a 100% demon spawn though, I don't really like making scenes in public and I probably will cry if I do- but I still have fun lol. I'm also the person who copes with severe mental health issues using humor, to an alarming degree 😔 I'm the therapist friend when really I'm the one who needs therapy. I also have a social battery that can die at random times, so I really like/need friends who can handle random mood changes of me going from energetic to silent in seconds. Academically, I'm really book smart, I'm a tutor, but my grades don't reflect it. I tend to procrastinate a lot and avoid studying, usually I catch myself last minute or trust memory on tests, but every now and then there's something that tanks my grades. I'm not very athletic, but I still try to play sports. I enjoy the feeling when I do something right, but the rest of the time I usually beat myself up for messing up.

And now just random facts 😃👍

My favorite color is yellow, not the bright eye sore shade that makes you want to throw up, but the nice softer, light shade. And I like anything that comes with that color! (Sunflowers, flowy sundresses and flip flops, summer activities, burning concrete, warm rain, etc). Nobody knows my music taste, it changes weekly, however I usually come back to mitski/cavetown or summer themed songs a lot! I enjoy playing music, but I have the curse of being a fast learner so that usually leads to be being bored and learning a new instrument at any given chance. And my birthday is a weird date that fucks with zodiacs so I can be considered either a leo or cancer, my personality changes a bunch, so take your pick lol. (Though emotionally I tend to be cancerous, I just express it and show it in a way a leo would) And someday I wanna be a long term traveler, or a florist. Just a job that makes me happy :). And I guess if I had to classify my aesthetic it would be bloomcore or soft grunge. I like wearing big sweaters and if I could I would wear a bunch of butterfly clips in my hair and wear mom jeans. (I would also wear man crushers, I mean, platforms if I was confident)

Aaaannnnd that was really long sorry!

To sum up, I'm just a bipolar bitch with depression and anxiety 👍

Thanks a bunch for just taking the time to read this!

@oririon

Romantic Matchup

Bokuto Koutarou

How Y’all Met

IERJNDJS

I’m getting a classic summer love vibe from this matchup 👀

Ok so I just Hc that Bokuto LOVES flowers

So he would always just go to the local flower shop to look at them

Pls hes to precious I cant-

But anyways you we’re working a summer job at the flower shop

And you grew fond of our little owl boy

You would always talk to him whenever he visited

He just made your job that much more enjoyable :)

So one day you stopped him right before he left and told him he could pick a bouquet of flowers if he wanted

He BEAMED at you and picked a bouquet of flowers he always looked at whenever he came

But what shocked you was instead of walking out with them

He gave them to you!

He then went on talking about how he really liked you but didn’t know how to tell you

At this point he was just rambling

So you laughed and asked him if he would like to go to the ocean with you after your shift

He agreed and you swear you saw stars in his eyes

After your shift you met up with Bokuto and went to the beach

You guys literally spent ALL day there!

And even some of the night 👀

Being the gentleman he is offered to walk you home

And when you two got to your house he asked you to be his s/o

What They Love About You

Ok starting off with a strange one

He loves the fact that your favorite color is yellow 💛

He just thinks it fits you so well 😊

He loves that you have to ability to turn your trauma into humor

Now I’m ngl...

Ye found it extremely concerning at first 🥲

But once you explained it was like a coping mechanism for you

He was super supportive!

AAAAAAAA

He LOVES your aesthetic!

He thinks it’s so cute

And once again he thinks it fits you 👀

He appreciates the fact that your smart

If he doesn’t understand something in class

He’ll just go to you!

And honesty going over the material with him has helped your understanding as well 👀

Bokuto s grades:📈

Your grades: 📈

Favorite Things To Do Together

Oml he loves summers with you

Any summer activity

Beaches

Ice cream

Flower meadows 👀

Summer night drives

The whole shtick

But when it’s not summer

He loves doing classic seasonal activities

Examples:

Fall - Jumping in leaf piles, coffee dates, preparing for Halloween, etc

Winter - Snowball fights/Making Snowmen, Christmas movie marathons, hot cocoa/ baking, etc

Spring - Dancing in the rain, picnics, gardening etc

It’s a vibe year round with bf Bokuto

Random Hc

His favorite season is summer

And his second is winter

Ik...polar opposites

Oof

He TOTALLY gets your mood swings

Although they may not be the same as his

He still understands them and respects them

Every year on your anniversary he buys you the exact same bouquet he gave you at the flower shop

Speaking of the flower shop 👀

He got a job there with you the following summer

So you guys basically spent most of your days together

Bokuto is REALLY bad at dark humor

But for some reason he still tries 😭

It’s either TOO dark

Or not dark at all 💀

Astrology

(We’re gonna go with your cancer zodiac 😂)

When Cancer and Virgo make a love match, a strong, down-to-earth relationship with staying power is the happy result.

This is a relationship with great potential to get better and better over the passing years.

Both Cancer and Virgo are goal-oriented and disciplined.

They are sincere and devoted to one another and share a strong sense of purpose.

No lightweight love here: These two were not really built for flings!

Cancer and Virgo deeply admire one another: Virgo respects Cancer’s quiet strength and dedication while Cancer appreciates Virgo’s keen adaptability and intelligence.

These lovers may get off to a slow start, but over time, bonds will only grow stronger.

The Cancer-Virgo love match prides itself on common sense and strong principles over fluff and inconsequential or fleeting connections.

They enjoy the material comforts of life, but they will only feel good about their bounty if it has come as a result of honest hard work.

There could be tiffs if Virgo becomes too critical for Cancer’s easily bruised feelings; Cancer needs to understand that it’s just Virgo’s nature to point out what they observe, that it’s not a personal attack.

A Virgo may bristle at their Cancer mate’s stubborn streak, but it’s a trait that a patient and understanding love partner like Virgo could come to appreciate.

Also, Virgo’s urge to serve suits Cancer’s affectionate, nurturing nature well.

Their dedication to working toward the same goals.

Both partners in this love match enjoy a stable home life and nice things, and Virgo truly enjoys helping Cancer along the way to achieving their goals.

Their shared goals and desires make theirs a highly compatible love match.

Overall Aesthetic

Bloomcore 🌸

Bloom - Jesse

This Side of Paradise - Coyote Theory

Flaming Hot Cheetos - Claire

Mystery of Love - Sufjan Stevens

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fandom #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu matchups #bokuto #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x y/n #bokuto x reader

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multmilk · 4 years

Text

Strawberries and Cigarettes | l.t

Pairing: idol!Taeyong x idol!reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: Use of cigars/smoking, character death, a bit of smut

Word count: 2.6k

He was from SM and you were from JYP. He was a member of 3 boy groups and you were a solo artist. His genre was more of pop while you make rnb. The two of you were working on opposite sides of the world so when you received the news that the two of you were collaborating, you were bewildered.

Now you were sitting alone inside a coffee shop waiting for Taeyong. You knew he was a talented man—a rapper, a composer and a hell of a good dancer. You’ve watched a lot of fancams out of pure curiosity and you were surprised that you had the pleasure of getting to work with him.

“Y/N?” a rich and foreign voice said, looking up at him you felt your heart skip a beat at his appearance. His hair was brown and it had some streaks of gray to it, it was a little disheveled but it still looked good. He was wearing a black long-sleeved shirt that made the veins in his hands more prominent, a dangling earing on his ear that added more charisma to him.

“I’m Lee Taeyong,” he smiled. Ooooh fuck he looks good, his voice sent shivers down your spine. You gestured for him to sit down across of you. This is going to be interesting, you thought.

----

It’s been a month since the two of you worked together. You mostly worked in his apartment, though his members lived there with him, they respected you and treated you like their family. They leave when the two of you work so that you could focus and they wouldn’t create ruckus.

You weren’t fully comfortable with him yet and you know he felt the same way too. You always sat on the edge of his bed while he sat on his chair across you. It was hard to work with someone so new, someone who’s a stranger. You had to be careful with every step you take—and although that being cautious is good, it’s difficult to not voice out your ideas to him because you’re afraid of him judging of what you thought.

You two were working on an album that focuses on the issues of society today. You had two solo songs, he had two solo songs and then there were two songs that features the both of you.

Your first song tackles about the beauty standards of men and women of our generation. How men aren’t allowed to wear make-up because it makes them look more feminine and how women should have this petite figure and if they don’t look what society expects them to look like, they do not belong in this place.

Your next song focuses on gender roles. Women can have a job that is expected to supposedly be for men and vice versa. Also, how people should be respected no matter their chose of job. Whether they are sex workers, drag queens or a waitress—each should be treated equally.

Taeyong’s first song is about corruption in politics and the politicians that don’t uphold the values and morals of a good leader and how in turn, makes a country incompetent and their people ignorant.

His next song is about the challenges faced by the mass. Poverty, treated unequally, high medicine fee and all things in between. What the two of you have worked on alone is a masterpiece.

Right now you were stuck inside his room, diverting your attention towards anything but making the music together. You’ve asked him for help and he did that but working on two whole songs together just seems a bit out of your comfort zone.

“What about pizza?” he asks “I don’t think pizza is a good top-“ you got cut off with his laugh. It was a hearty one too, not the chuckles you hear he lets go once you accidentally do or say something funny.

“I meant maybe you want me to get a pizza delivered? Maybe it’ll help remove this,” he gestured to the space between us, “Tension?” you just laughed, probably because you felt stupid and embarrassed for not catching his drift but you agreed to get pizza.

You and Taeyong are now seated on each side of his bed sharing a box of pizza. For the past hour, you two have been sharing stories and jokes like childhood friends catching up. You’ve learned that he has a passion for understanding arts, he’s really good at playing video games and he likes listening to Drake.

Neither of you initiated to start working on your songs but you liked the time you were using to get to know him. He was kind, gentle and warm.

There were numerous spotlights surrounding Taeyong. The photographer asked him to try different poses and to relax but for some reason, his shoulders were too tense and his hands were shaking a bit. You and Taeyong started hanging around a lot when you two decided to write your music. You two hung out in his apartment where his members stay and spend time with the two of you, you hung out in the convenience store eating ice cream and telling jokes. You didn’t have many friends in the music industry and now you consider Taeyong as your best friend.

He looked good, you thought. He was sporting a gold glittered blazer with a black top beneath it, 3 layered chokers and he was wearing the dangling earrings you loved so much on him.

You walked towards Taeyong and said, “Yong, look at me,” he let out a breathy laugh but kept his head down. Putting your fingers under his chin and tilting his head upwards you ask, “What’s wrong?” he closes his eyes and exhales “I smell strawberries,” your eyes widened at his statement. “S-strawberries?” “Yes, strawberries,” he then looks at your eyes and continues “Before my best friend died, she asked me to fetch her strawberries. So, I went to the hospital and see her having a seizure. Doctors were all around her, her boyfriend was frantic and I dropped the jar of strawberry jam. It was the last time I ever associated myself with the fruit,” then he laughs. You apologize and say that it probably was your perfume but he tucks your hair behind your ear and says that it was fine.

This whole time you were talking the photographer took candid photos of you and Taeyong and claimed that it was good for the album cover already. Taeyong kisses your cheek and feel blush creep in on your face.

You were going to sleep well today.

---

The both of you were in Amsterdam to film your music video. You were dressed in a black laced bustier top paired with black flared pants and Taeyong is wearing a white button up top.

It’s been an hour of filming and Taeyong has been showering you with compliments. Your relationship has gotten to the point where you two flirt shamelessly and honestly, you didn’t have any complaints.

As the crew and directors all were huddled to talk about the next scene, you were out smoking looking at the museums and buildings surrounding you.

“You didn’t tell me you smoked,” Taeyong stalks toward you and keeps his hands inside of his pockets. “You never asked. Want to join me?” “No thanks. I quit after she died,” you nod.

“Do you believe in heaven and in hell?” you ask and then he stands beside you, “Move away from me Yong, you’re going to get cancer from second-hand smoking you know,” “I believe that if we die, we’re just going to live a life with eternal darkness and quietness and loneliness,” he answers your question and ignores your previous statement. “I do believe in God, yes, but if we die and then that’s it. Do you believe in it?” he asks, “I believe that we do go to heaven or hell based on the actions and choices we’ve made in our borrowed time living here,” you say.

“What separates the people who will enter heaven to those who will enter hell? I mean, humans make pretty bad and wrong decisions. If hurting a person, unintentionally and intentionally, is just the basis for us to live a life in paradise or in damnation then I guess we’re all fucked huh?” you both laugh. You throw your cigarette to the trash can near you and stick your hand out for Taeyong to hold.

---

The first time you and him kissed was after your comeback stage.

It was hot, it was messy and you felt like flying. He told you you tasted like strawberries mixed with the after-taste of cigars. You just laugh and continue kissing down his neck.

He tugged at your hair and removed the strap off of your dress. You got on your knees and unbuckled his belt.

As the night went further and your relationship progressed, he had told you that he loves you and that you indeed smell like strawberries. And as much as he dislikes the fruit and what comes with it, if loving you means he has to smell and taste like strawberries for the rest of his life then so be it.

You slept with a smile on your face, head on Taeyong’s chest and his arms caging you for protection.

---

You were hysterical.

You had rushed Taeyong into the ER as soon as your comeback stage had ended. You were supposed to go out and celebrate with him, announce the tour you were having but all your plans had ended once you saw the he had coughed up blood and was having a hard time breathing.

Machines and tubes were stuck in his body, his unconscious body. You held his hand for the longest time that day and you weren’t planning on letting go.

You woke up with Taeyong speaking to the doctor and you saw that they were having a serious conversation. “Taeyong?” he looks at you, a little startled. He ushers the doctor to leave and says to you, “Hey, you should go back to sleep,” you ask what the doctor said and he just simply says that it was a bad bad bad case of food poisoning. You were apprehensive but you didn’t want to push it any further, he needed his rest after all.

That was the first mistake you made.

---

The second mistake was smoking around him. You wanted to stop but it had helped you through the sleepless nights and when you were overthinking.

The third mistake was pushing through with the tour. It was his idea, saying it was the least you two could do for your fans but it was your fault for supporting it.

The last straw was watching him being taken away by the paramedics and staying kneeled and glued to the stage as they rushed him into the hospital.

You arrived seeing doctors moving everywhere and getting paddles and shouting ‘clear’. You couldn’t stand to watch him as they revived his body. So, you took your pack of cigarettes and went outside.

By the time you finished three sticks, you decided to see how Taeyong was doing. Every step you took felt like it weighed tons, like your world was crashing but seeing and hearing the doctors call the time of his death? You felt that the world has ended.

You were screaming and crying and questioning everything and anything. You screamed and screamed until your cries had taken over and seeing Taeyong lying on his bed cold and lifeless, it shattered you.

---

Months after his death, you continued on with the tour.

Today, you were in Amsterdam and was about to finish the last song.

Right before you sung though, Taeyong’s voice rung around the concert hall. Everyone was quiet.

“Hey Y/N. If you’re hearing this it means that I’ve died. I have a few things to say so please listen.

From the first day I met you, I knew that I was going to fall in love with you but the minute I smelt your strawberry scent? I knew I had to distance myself,” he laughs.

“It was hard to though. It was the boys who pushed me to hang out with you more. It would benefit our work after all. Hence, the pizza mistaken as a song topic incident. From that moment on, I found myself liking you much more than I intended to.

Fast forward to all of our shared jokes and stories. Late night ice-cream stops at the convenience store. Breakfast dates. Coffee-stained sweaters and deep conversations while you smoked.

I knew that I fell in love with you the moment that your lips brushed mine. It was special, magical, felt like I was floating on cloud nine. I just let myself fall deeper until the moment you rushed me into the ER when I coughed up blood.

I needed you to stay away from me because I knew that it would happen. I am sorry, I am very sorry, that I didn’t tell you the truth. Maybe if I had told you the truth you would’ve really stayed away from me but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you and hurt you.

I am a smoker. I quit because my best friend died of second-hand smoking. It was my fault she died, it was my fault I hated strawberries and it’s my fault now that I left you without ever explaining the truth about me.

I don’t want you blaming yourself for not noticing the signs or for keeping on smoking. None of this is your fault Y/N.

I just didn’t want to lose the time knowing that you’d be so cautious around me. No, I wanted us to be as normal as we could ever be. I wanted more time with you but I guess this is for the best.

You deserve so much more this world could ever offer. You are a great person with a great personality, great talents, great body and a great heart.

I want- I need you to keep on using that talent and heart to inspire people all over the world to fight. We have achieved so much together and I want you to use this pain into art.

I loved you and I will love you even if my soul ends up in a cold and dark place. I will love you even if you choose to love another guy. I know, I know that I will be in your heart and that I will always have that one piece saved specifically for me.

I love you and your cigarettes. Your strawberry-flavored perfume scent, your strawberry-flavored shampoo and your taste when I kiss you after you smoke.

Your strawberries clung on to my shirts and sweaters, and it did hurt me at first because it brought back the memories of her but you gave me a new reason to love strawberries.

I love you, Y/N,” as he sings, the whole crowd were in tears and you were sat on the stage clutching your microphone near your heart.

You smile and look up at the ‘heavens’ as he sings,

“Strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you,”

(A/N: This is my first taeyong one-shot and i hope you liked it. i tried to be very angst-y haha. please send in requests aaand feeback is always appreciated!)

#lee taeyong au #taeyong au #taeyong angst #nct taeyong angst #taeyong x reader #nct taeyong x reader #lee taeyong x reader #multmilk #multmilk writings #m.list

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cutie1365 · 5 years

Text

A Kid from Queens Part 11

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Info: CA: Civil War Era. Tony Stark enlists his daughter to find the web slinging spider in Queens.

Word count: 2.8k

Warnings: language, lmk if I should add anything

A/N: I’ve removed a lot of people from my taglists for being inactive, to be on it and stay on it you must like my posts, and comment or reblog. There’s a google form in my bio to request to be added.

Masterlist linked in my bio. Taglist in the reblog.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

A bright stage light blinded you as you shifted back behind the curtain. A production assistant was clipping a microphone onto your dress that was so tight they’d actually made you wear spanx. Fucking spanx. You were a healthy 18 year old girl, wearing Spanx. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Your gaze shifted to the other side of the stage where you saw your publicist-turned-manager, Linda, give you a thumbs up and a cheery smile. You flashed her a toothy smile right back to reassure her. She had been preparing you for this all week, and you were ready. You were used to meetings with important people, investors, and shareholders; Pepper taught you well, you knew what you were doing.

“Ok people! Live in five... four...” A jaunty producer bellowed from behind the cameras.

You took a deep breath in, closing your eyes and reminding yourself why you were here. When you opened them, you put on your mask: a bright smile, wide eyes, and shoulders back. You were no longer the girl who just last week was crying in a conference room over a boy. No, for the next hour you were Y/N Stark: a girl who definitely had her shit together, sporting a nearly $5,000 Oscar de la Renta dress with some Jimmy Choos to match.

The audience roared as the large red “Applause” sign above the stage lit up.

“Thank you! Thank you for joining us and welcome to all of you at home tuning into our live broadcast of The Tonight Show!” The spirited host greeted the audience, he spoke again once their cheers died down.

“Tonight we have a very special guest. She’s a partner of Stark Industries. She’s the daughter of Iron Man! Give it up for Y/N Stark!” His voice grew more and more excited with each description.

Was that really all you boiled down to? ‘The daughter of Iron Man’? Would you ever be able to be your own person? All your accomplishments, and still, the most interesting thing about you was your paternity.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

Unbeknownst to you, thirty minutes away in Queens, May Parker was flipping channels as her nephew ate dinner. Landing on channel 6, she recognized a familiar face.

“Peter, isn’t that your little friend?” She asked excitedly, pointing to the TV. He lazily draws his attention to the screen before he did a double take. Oh God, she looked amazing. He thought.

“We’re not really friends May, she’s just my boss’ daughter.” Peter spoke, hoping she’d change the subject, or the channel.

“Wow, look at that dress! She looks like a million bucks!” May smiled, in awe.

“Try a billion.” Peter muttered, thankful that May didn’t have super-hearing like him. Normally at this time, he’d be getting ready to go out for patrols, but he was curious. Why were you on live TV? You didn’t do interviews. So tonight, he decided to take his place next to May and watch, because honestly - he missed you. If this was his chance so see your smile and hear your laugh, then patrols could wait an hour.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

“Thank you for having me.” You nodded politely as you adjusted in your chair.

“Well it’s not everyday I have superhero DNA seated across from me.” The host joked, and you laughed politely, mentally regretting this already.

“What can I say? It’s in my blood.” You shrugged, the audience roared as the neon sign flashed. Your interviewer joining in, though you could tell it was fake.

“Yikes that was bad wasn’t it, guess I’ll leave the jokes to you.” You declared with a smile.

“I guess out of all those PhDs you have, none of them translate to being able to come up with a decent punchline.” He retorted, playfully.

“Oh certainly not, probably the opposite considering they’re in Electrical Engineering and Ethical Philosophy.” You laughed.

“Which is incredible by the way! You’re 18 and you have two PhDs. How’d you do it?” What an original question. You thought and mentally rolled your eyes.

“A lot of hard work and dedication. And, sure, I’m not oblivious to the tremendous amount of privilege that I have. Sometimes it’s about the right opportunities, and those aren’t always fair. I’m hoping one day to change that.” You spoke honestly, gaining a round of applause from the audience.

“And how do you plan on doing that?” He asked, baiting you. He knew why you were here and what he was supposed to steer the conversation towards.

“Well, systematic change doesn’t happen overnight. But as a start, we want to be able to give young people interested in science, technology and engineering a foot in the door. We’re opening up a Stark Internship program, for kids across the country to come work with us and learn from us. Anyone is welcome to apply. There are more details on our website.” You looked directly into Camera One. You felt as if you were reading from a script, you’ve practiced this so much.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

“Peter, isn’t that what you do?” May asked, turning to her nephew.

“Kinda, Mr. Stark said they were expanding nationwide, wanna help out more people ya know.” He lied, in reality he had no clue what you were doing. A heads up would have been nice, but it was helpful that his alibi was now legitimized.

“I like her.” May said with a soft smile, focusing back on the screen.

“What?” Peter asked, taken aback.

“I like her,” May repeated, “She recognizes her privilege and she’s giving back. Plus her shoes are to die for.”

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

“That’s amazing. Does that include scholarship opportunities?” Your host inquired, just as planned.

“Of course! We already offer a few scholarships, there’s even one named after Dad and I at MIT, but we will be expanding greatly. One hundred of the applicants will receive a $50,000 scholarship, so there’s certainly no reason not to apply.” You laughed.

“You’re going to be a busy girl, doing all those interviews.” He remarked. You hated the way he called you girl. You faked a laugh before responding.

“Oh, I know, but I think it’s important for me to really have an intimate role in the selection, you want to build those personal connections. Ya know?” You nodded.

“Those are important, sure. Now, Y/N, it’s no secret that you’ve also been running Stark Industries’ Philanthropy, so what’s next on the agenda for you personally?” He asked, turning the conversation... this wasn’t planned.

“Um, sure we have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies here at Stark Industries, so we’re constantly making pretty large donations to a number of deserving causes. If you’re referring to large scale philanthropic galas then the NYC Hope Gala is coming up, which targets childhood cancer research and awareness. And of course, The Met Gala is coming up next month.” You nodded. What was he playing at here?

“And can we expect you to attend?” Something about his demeanor was changing, and you cursed yourself for agreeing to do this on live TV.

“Haven’t missed it in four years so there’s a good chance.” You assured him with a smile.

“Are you nervous to attend a public event considering what that took place at the last one?” You felt like you had just been punched in the gut, and you hoped that didn’t translate onto your face. He really was going there, and you had a feeling you knew where this was heading.

“I believe that when you live in fear, the people that orchestrated these terrible things win. So I’m not going to let that happen.” Your mind was reeling trying to figure out his next move, and what your response would be. Should you keep talking to fill the time until commercial break, in an attempt to limit whatever might be coming next? You looked at the monitor, 5 minutes until commercial, shit. A lot can happen in 5 minutes.

“When footage of the attack came out, I think it’s fair to say that the world was shocked.” There were random voices of agreement coming from the audience.

“About?” You asked, surely he wasn’t bringing this up. Your heart began to beat faster.

“I don’t think anyone expected you to stand up and fight the way you did, what prompted you to do that.” Ok this is your chance, stall. You thought.

“I- I suppose it was a spur of the moment, fight or flight sort of thing. In times of panic everyone reacts differently. I have basic self defense and martial arts training and some Stark tech, that’s about it. No crazy powers or anything. Someone once told me that if you have the ability to stop the bad things from happening, and you don’t, then they happen because of you. I knew that I could do something, so I did.” You spoke slowly, hoping to come off as sincere and thoughtful, though you were really just killing time.

“And paid the price.”

“I didn’t say it was easy. But some broken ribs are a small price to pay for saving some lives.” You tried to convince him.

“And how has it affected your relationship with the Mayor’s son, the reason you were at the gala that night?” Shit.

“I think it’s normal that trauma and stress can put a strain on a relationship, but if you’re both willing to communicate and work through it then there’s no reason it should have a negative affect.” You were immediately reminded of your interaction with Thomas last week.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

“Let's be honest, you were using me the entire time.” You said calmly, shouldn’t you be angry?

“Well not the entire time.” He answered with a smirk, dropping it when he noticed you were not amused.

“Thomas.” You spoke seriously, with a brow raised.

“Ok fine, like 95% of the time,” He admitted, dropping his playful tone once more, “Why are you here Y/N?”

“Because it's my turn to use you.” You stated simply, mimicking his smirk.

“What?” His eyes grew wide.

“The public needs to keep thinking were the perfect happy couple.” You explained.

“Why?” He asked, shaking his head.

“I have my reasons and you have yours.” You answered cryptically.

You weren’t surprised when he agreed, his father’s poll numbers had been dropping significantly. He wanted to get back in his father’s good graces. You were going to use this opportunity to look into the family, and the possible weapons dealings Danny Rand had warned you about. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer, they say.

Plus, it gave you a good alibi to move the attention off of Peter, well, Spider-Man.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

“So you’re still together, despite the rumors that you’ve split?” Your interviewer pried.

“We are still together, and doing quite well, though I appreciate your concern.” Your reply was confident, and just cocky enough to get a laugh from the audience.

“How did he react to the rumors about a midnight tryst between you and Spider-Man?” He was enjoying this, and to top it all off, blasted that damn photograph on the screen, just in case the world had forgotten.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

Peter choked on his water, causing May to worryingly ask him if he’s alright. He attempts to reassure her, and silence her to hear your response.

You laughed before answering.

“Well I’d hardly consider it a midnight tryst, considering this picture was taken at 7:30. Plus Thomas was over at the time so it would be pretty hard for him to believe there was any ‘trysting’ going on.” You lied. Peter listened more intently as the interview was slowly devolving into an interrogation.

“So are you denying that you know Spider-Man?” The interviewer pressed, his tone near threatening.

“I’ve met the guy once,” Peter saw you shrug, “He saved my life, I thanked him. I’d hardly consider that knowing someone.”

It was in that moment Peter realized why you were doing all of this. You were trying to protect him, to shift the story. You wanted to get the attention off of him, and by doing that, shifted it all onto you. You were taking the fall, and once this blows over you can’t turn back. You were going to have to keep this up, this media persona. That meant more TV appearances, more interviews, more parties and galas. Becoming the exact person you didn’t want to be. Putting aside your work and research, for him.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

“When we come back Y/N Stark is going to answer your questions you sent in on Twitter!” He pointed his note cards to the camera with a smile.

The curtain closed as you cut to commercial break. Your smile dropped and your mask melted away.

Your publicist Linda ran on stage yelling at the host.

“What the hell was that? We told you the attack was off limits!” She scolded him, you almost thought she’d threaten to sue. You’d never seen her this worked up before.

“It’s what people care about, it’s what they want to know! No one cares about how much money you donate to some kids.” He argued, you shook your head at how heartless he was.

You stormed over to the side of the stage, you could hear Linda’s heels behind you.

“Y/N-“ She spoke once she caught up to you, you whipped around to face her.

“This is why I didn’t want to do this bullshit! I’m out here getting interrogated! What’s he gonna ask about next, huh? The incident? The fucking Accords? Jesus!” You ranted, flailing your arms about.

”Back in 10.” A stagehand informed the two of you.

“Listen, I didn’t know he was going to do that ok. But now, you’re going to get your butt back in the chair and answer their silly questions from Twitter and you’re done, ok?” She pushed you back onto the stage, you quickly took your seat as the curtain separating you and the audience was pulled open and you were back live.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

After a painful 15 minutes of mind numbing questions like “Who’s your favorite Avenger?” and “F Marry Kill- Thor, Captain America, and Iron Man” (which you had declined to answer, that was your dad for Christ sake), you were finally making your way back to the car. Linda was giving you instructions in preparations for your day tomorrow.

“Ok, we’ve got the Vogue interview tomorrow morning, then Elle in the afternoon so I’ll send hair and makeup over around 5:45AM, you’ll have to be up and ready. Oh, but don’t eat anything you’ll want to look nice in your dress tomorrow.” You gave Linda a side eye and eye roll when her last words came out of her mouth. You were certainly not starving yourself. If you wanted to eat, you were going to eat, and God have mercy on anyone who got in your way.

Once you returned to the quiet emptiness of your apartment, you immediately slipped out of your dress and into yoga pants and a sports bra.

You began wrapping your knuckles, and attacking the punching bag - a little coping mechanism Cap had taught you. You were furious about how the interview went.

You had doubts that people would ever stop asking about Peter, and if any of this was worth it.

Little did you know, the friendly neighborhood Spiderling was sitting on your roof, after peering in through the window and seeing your assault on the bag.

He was curious about how you were doing. You had looked so happy and put together- but was that just a brave face and a dress? He realized now it was just a mask.

When he glanced once more, he found you in the kitchen, unwrapping your bleeding knuckles and downing a shot... and then another. You looked miserable, and exhausted.

He wanted to talk to you, but he didn’t want to make things worse. He was about to leave when he noticed you pulled out your phone and open the call app.

Your finger hovered over his name and he raised an eyebrow. You had an internal struggle over whether or not to call him, instead you set the phone down and groaned, sliding it across the counter.

“F.R.I. can you set an alarm for 5AM?” You asked, though you wished you didn’t have to.

“Sure can boss.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied.

You slipped a robe over your athletic wear and headed onto your balcony. You leaned on the edge, and looked out onto the moonlit park with a sigh. Dropping your head to your hands once more, and gently rubbing your temples.

Leaning back up onto your elbows, you took in a deep breath.

“I know you’re there Peter.” You spoke softly, turning your head slightly but keeping your body facing out over the ledge.

And your next action surprised both of you: you invited him in.

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

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sinceileftyoublog · 4 years

Text

Weekend Picks: 2/21-2/23

Big Head Todd and the Monsters

BY JORDAN MAINZER

There were no live picks for yesterday, but plenty for the weekend!

2/21: Objekt, Smartbar

Here’s what we wrote about Objekt’s Cocoon Crush when we named it our #6 album of 2018:

“An artist solidly known for his bold exploration of techno, Objekt now takes a plunge into a new kind of ethereal beauty on Cocoon Crush. A foray into ambient music, Objekt subverts a lot of what we have come to expect from him. The line between digital and analog is smeared. Tracks are ungrounded, punctuated still by percussion and synthesizers, but in patterns and textures that materialize in mysterious ways. And just as they appear, they stutter and morph in ways unexpected to the listener. The cold machinations of the dancefloor are still present; they are just stretched and masked in exciting and rewarding ways.”

Darwin and Flower Flood open.

2/21: Knuckle Puck, Beat Kitchen

We previewed Knuckle Puck’s set at Durty Nellie’s two years ago:

“Covering last year’s Riot Fest, I found Knuckle Puck the worst set of the festival, though I did remark that the band’s new, unreleased material had the crowd’s attention as much as their released material. As it turns out, the album versions of the songs are pretty good. Shapeshifter, released about a month later in October, was exemplary of what Knuckle Puck do best–write catchy songs with powerful melodies and hooks, enough to showcase the band’s more-than-capable instrumental prowess while avoiding the try-hard singing that plagues so many of today’s emo bands.”

Cleveland power poppers Heart Attack Man and Wilkes Barre hardcore band One Step Closer open.

Objekt; Photo by Kasia Zacharko

2/21: James McMurtry, Old Town School of Folk Music

We previewed James McMurtry’s show at FitzGerald’s two years ago:

“James McMurtry plays tonight as part of the 37th Annual American Music Festival at Fitzgerald’s, still touring strong off of Complicated Game (one of our favorite albums of 2015) like he was when it first came out. When we caught up with him last November, he said of new songs, 'I’ve jotted them down on my phone as I’ve gone along. That whole record was written on an iPhone3. Unfortunately, I dropped that phone, I don’t have the cool Notes app anymore.' Well, either he’s got a new phone or doesn’t need one, because late last year, he released 'State of the Union', a trademark jab at fascism and racism. It might not be as succinct as him telling us 'There never been a good Nazi a day on this earth dead or alive,' but at least there’s hope for more new material.”

2/21: Raphael Saadiq & Jamila Woods, Vic Theatre

Last year, Raphael Saadiq released his first album in 8 years (since the great Stone Rollin’). Jimmy Lee is named after, inspired by, and partially about his brother who died of heroin overdose after contracting HIV many years ago. As such, whether singing or inhabiting the character of his brother, Saadiq is at times uncharacteristically somber. He’s at the other end of a barrel of a gun on “Sinners Prayer”, reflecting on his wrongs, wondering whether it’s too late: “When a sinner is praying, God, will you hear it?” He wears a heavy burden on the funky, stomping “Something Keeps Calling Me”, the song’s wailing guitar solo in the bridge a mirror to his emotions. Saadiq calls out society, too, just as much as himself. “The people are mad,” he sings on “This World is Drunk”. The one-two punch of anti-mass incarceration jams “Rikers Island” and “Rikers Island Redux” presents the issue as simply as it should be put: “Too many n***as in Rikers Island / Why must it be / Set them free.” The former expresses its anger with upbeat piano and a simple refrain, the latter with spoken word over gentle guitar strums.

Best, though, are the reflections of grace that rise above the despair. On “I’m Feeling Love”, over a slower, more warbling funk, Saadiq, singing as his brother, is thankful for the little that he has. And on the skittering, rolling “Glory To The Veins”, he again distills his brother’s death to what matters: “I lost a brother to AIDS / Still, he laughed every day.” We’re lucky that as he gets older, reflecting on his life, and playing live reflecting on his career in Tony! Toni! Toné! and all the legendary artists like D’Angelo and Solange that he’s produced, Saadiq is willing to impart his wisdom.

Jamila Woods’ LEGACY! LEGACY! was one of our favorite albums of last year:

“Yes, Jamila Woods’ stunning LEGACY! LEGACY! is a tribute to important artists of color. What makes it stand out among other tributes, however, is the remarkable way Woods is able to present how each figure has guided her. Take opener 'BETTY', about funk artist Betty Davis, a woman married to a far more famous jazz trumpeter who gets his own song later on. Woods explores the gender and power dynamic in the relationship and uses it to make a personal and universal plea: 'Let me be, I’m trying to fly.' Fly, she does. On 'ZORA', over a hip hop beat, Woods succinctly declares in an all-time line, 'My weaponry is my energy', the drive and desire the catalyst in the noble goal to make her mark on the world as a black woman as opposed to while being a black woman. In various interviews surrounding the album release, Woods spoke about being inspired by black artists who perform and make art truly for themselves independent and often in spite of the race of the end consumers. 'Motherfuckers won’t shut up,' beings 'MUDDY', referencing Muddy Waters adoption of electric guitar because white audiences would talk over his sets; 'Shut up, motherfucker,' she sings inversely on 'MILES', 'I don’t take requests.' But the percussive, jazzy 'EARTHA' best encapsulates her aims of self-love and ultimate pride. 'I used to be afraid of myself,' Woods admits before stating, 'I don’t wanna compromise.' Ultimately, the refrain of, 'Who’s gonna share my love for me with me?' is the mindset by which Woods approaches relationships throughout the record and then life itself. You can be a part of it, but she comes first.”

DJ Duggz also opens.

2/21: The Wailers, SPACE

We previewed The Wailers’ set at Old Town School of Folk Music last year:

“Bob Marley might not be around, but his original band, containing many of the original members and their children, continues to play his songs. Seeing them in a venue as small as this is rare.”

Tonight at SPACE--an even smaller venue--they play two shows, an early and late one.

Joe Henry

2/22: Big Head Todd and the Monsters, Vic Theatre

We previewed Big Head Todd & The Monsters’ show at the Vic Theatre two years ago:

“The Colorado jam band that saw mainstream success in the 90′s is touring fresh off of last year’s heavy New World Arisin’. In 2016, as Big Head Blues Club (the band’s project with a wide array of blues legends like Cedric Burnside and Charlie Musselwhite), they released Way Down Inside. But for the full potential of Big Head Todd and the Monsters, go a few years back and try 2014′s Black Beehive, a rawer, more diverse blues record than you’d expect from the band who recorded 'Bittersweet'. What’s for sure is that live, they’ll lean heavily on the new material while not forgoing their more beloved classics.”

They haven’t released a new album since then but have released a new song every month as part of a series. They should play some of these live, including gospel piano ballad “Hard Times Come No More” and the funky, rollicking “Train of Storms”.

Nashville band Los Colognes open.

2/22: Todd Barry, Thalia Hall

We previewed Todd Barry’s sets at SPACE two years ago:

“So, this isn’t exactly music, but deadpan comedian Todd Barry is performing 2 stand-up sets in one night at SPACE. Commemorating his 30 years of being a comedian, he’s going on another crowd work-only tour like the one documented in his 2014 special Todd Barry: The Crowd Work Tour. From watching that and his most recent Netflix special Spicy Honey, Barry’s dry observational humor is effortlessly tailored to specific crowds and cities, making this one of the must-see comedy events of the year.”

Even if tonight isn’t crowd work-only, he should do some of his specialty.

Chicago-based stand-up comic Chelsea Hood opens.

Hot Snakes

2/22: Joe Henry, Old Town School of Folk Music

Since we last saw Joe Henry five years ago, he’s done quite a bit of production work and released two albums, 2017′s Thrum, and last year’s The Gospel According to Water. In between the two, he was diagnosed with prostate cancer; considering that, the latter takes on weight. It’s, first and foremost, raw, from the guitar playing on “Famine Walk” to the title track. But Gospel sports moments of beauty, too, as on the woodwind of “Mule” and rich vocal harmonies of “In Time For Tomorrow” and “The Fact of Love”.

Americana duo Birds of Chicago open.

Pissed Jeans; Photo by Ebru Yildiz

2/22: Tim and Eric, Chicago Theatre

Who knows what Tim and Eric will bring to their Chicago stop of their Mandatory Attendance tour, other than their purported "brand new spoofs, goofs and insanity” and “special surprises.” The last time I saw them, Dr. Steve Brule showed up and almost married Jan Skylar!

2/22: Hot Snakes, Pissed Jeans, & HIDE, Empty Bottle

Music Frozen Dancing is upon us again, with suggested donations benefiting the Chicago Coalition for the Homeless! Go and donate!

We last listened to Hot Snakes from the medical tent at September’s Riot Fest. Since then, they’ve released the first two of four seasonal 7-inch singles leading up to the next LP: the burner “Checkmate” and wonderfully plodding laziness anthem “I Shall Be Free”. (The latter’s 7-inch has “A Place in the Sun” as an exclusive.)

Hot Snakes also play Sunday night at the Bottle with an opening set from post punk band Pink Avalanche.

Allentown hardcore band Pissed Jeans haven’t released anything since 2017′s Why Love Now, but they’re thankfully back to warm your pants before Hot Snakes. Maybe they’ll have some new songs to play?

Local industrial duo HIDE (artist Heather Gabel and percussionist Seth Sher) released their second album last year, the raw, disgusting Hell is Here. The drum programming and screaming is just as cringingly visceral as the recorded sounds of vomit hitting a toilet that end opening track “Chainsaw”.

Synth band Crash Course in Science, arty The Hecks, and local punk band Hitter also open.

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seoulscenarios · 5 years

Text

College AU! Choi Chanhee/New

author’s note: there’s mentions of alcohol and slightly nsfw content just after the competition which u can skip if it’s too uncomfortable!

-Major: mathematics

-Minor: statistics

-Sports: lol no

-Clubs: president and leader of the mathletes!!! Used to be part of choir but left bc of his dedication and promotion to president of the mathletes club

-Chanhee is scary smart at mathematics, like, super scary smart

-He can do complex linear equations half asleep and can often be found watching TED talks or graduate lectures online because he’s bored or wants to know more about a particular aspect of maths that his lecturer refuses to teach until graduate level

-He’s just extremely smart and inquisitive and wants to go beyond the scope of mathematics that is usually taught at his level

-His dream is to develop new mathematics that can be applied in medical research because he wants to make the world a better place

-Despite Chanhee being scarily smart and giving off an aura that he knows everything, he studies extremely hard, to the point where his roommate Changmin feels bad that he’s playing a game on his phone because he might distract Chanhee

-Chanhee really doesn’t mind though, finding Changmin’s presence really soothing and constant, which is what he needs when he’s studying bc too many demanding presences will drive his brain into overload and he can’t solve his Diophante equations

-He will also randomly murmur mathematical and theorem laws under his breath as he walks around campus and once got a textbook thrown at him by Sunwoo who thought he was chanting satanic rituals, which afterwards when Chanhee explained exactly what Fermat’s Little Theorem was (“look Sunwoo, all I’m saying is that it’s pretty simple even Hyunjoon could do it and he hates maths. It’s just, if p is a prime number, then for any interger a, the number a to the power of p where a is an integer multiple of p, quite simple really”) Sunwoo was even more horrified and convinced that Chanhee was a demon

-Only Eric was partially sympathetic to Chanhee’s number plights, knowing that it was difficult even though he only had a fraction (hah) of the work Chanhee had

-Mathematics, really did drain the life and soul out of Chanhee a lot to the point where he rarely got out to see his friends bc lo and behold, his statistics professor wants to hold another 2 hour lecture later bc he got a special guest lecturer to talk about the use of statistics in crime scene analysis which, to be honest, Chanhee wasn’t particularly interested in but he knew he could quiz the lecturer on complex maths and that’s always fun for Chanhee (not so much for the lecturer however, who had sweaty palms and kept stuttering when trying to answer his questions)

-So when he was invited out by his friends, 9/10 times he would say no, preferring to catch up on the work he thought he had finished yet somehow there were still pages upon pages of problems to do and he was drowning in it

-Not that he didn’t want to go out with his friends but his education did come first

-He didn’t spend all his time during high school working his butt off in class and several part time jobs to afford tuition to spend all of it on drinking alcohol or partying

-Not that he didn’t do those things, but they were once in a blue moon

-But when he did, boy did he go hard

-He didn’t have to drink the alcohol for a good time, but it just felt good to sit back with his pals and listen to Juyeon complain about how his latest animation assignment went dreadfully wrong as he accidentally played it in negative colour and double the speed and he couldn’t stop it or give Younghoon pointers in his latest scriptwriting venture

-Though, Younghoon didn’t appreciate all the math based puns he suggested

-Chanhee also loved to go to Kevin’s many gigs he did all over campus, preferring the acoustic sets he did with Jacob and Sangyeon to heavy rock sets he did with some intimidating mechanical engineering majors but he went to as many as possible

-Which confused a lot of the usual people who haunted these events, wondering what uptight, white button up shirt, maths nerd Chanhee was doing here instead of sticking his nose in a geometry textbook

-Simply put, Chanhee was an enigma

-Seemingly quiet and reserved and often times, scary but when he was with his friends he was screaming wildly and being the butt of affectionate jokes between the boys, knowing they were only teasing him and he just laughed along to it, enjoying when Changmin and Younghoon would cling to him after they thought they took a joke too far

-Chanhee just knows what he wants, he’s a simple guy

-But seeing Chanhee in his full element of super scary smart maths student was watching him at mathlete competitions

-He was the captain of his team and helped with recruiting and training

-Chanhee just loved the competition because, believe it or not, he never really bragged about his cleverness but being in competitions and being complimented for it? Chanhee THRIVED off it

-Sure, he got compliments from his friends, but mainly they were just confused and scared of his cleverness because no one willingly chose to do maths so Chanhee just shrugged it off

-But mathlete competitions… Chanhee was in his element

-He normally took a back seat, letting his team members take centre stage until they struggled with a question or had a blank moment he just smoothly took over, steering the team back into focus and he couldn’t help but let out a small smile when one of his team members got a question or concept correct when they struggled with it in training

-It’s actually how you met Chanhee, at a mathlete competition

-Except, you weren’t on his team oh no

-You were a captain from another college whom he had a rivalry with ever since you beat him after his team had a winning streak of 15 wins, the longest streak in the history of this competition

-Chanhee was confused at first, considering your team was never on his radar as competition but as soon as you flashed him a smug smile from the opposite side of the room something inside of him snapped

-From that day onwards, you were his rival

-At every competition the two of you did as much as you could to annoy each other, from sending each other glares during the others answer section or to tripping each other in the lunch queue

-Sure it was petty but you and Chanhee knew better than to resort to anything more than that

-Sometimes he could even be nice to you, especially if it was outside the competition

-Once you met him at a guest lecture on the use of statistics in cancer research and he sent you a small smile when you took a seat next to him

-Chanhee just confused you

-He went from being cold and aloof to nice and caring

-You didn’t know how to respond to him in either situation, so you just matched him if not a little more snarky

-For you, these mathlete competitions were your chance to prove yourself amongst your peers who looked down you at first as you were not from a particular academic background and didn’t have the most perfect academic record, which for some reason seemed to matter to some of your peers

-So yeah, even though you weren’t in the same elite as them, maths was the only thing that made sense to you growing up and you quickly grasped concepts that confused a lot of your classmates in high school

-When you got into college on your dream course you were ecstatic but you were soon put down when the snobby kids looked down on you

-So, to get back at them, you “auditioned” for the mathlete club and shocked the entire department when you coolly breezed through the questions without slipping up

-You were accepted onto the team, albeit with a bit of scepticism but when you won them their first competition they quickly warmed up to you, going into your second year of college as the captain of the team

-Going back to Chanhee, the first time you met him was something especially when you surprisingly beat his team and you knew that they were the team to beat

-You were just as shocked as he was when you beat him, causing Chanhee to start being aloof and cold to you at competitions

-So you just retaliated by making snarky comments

-And that’s how your rivalry started

-Every competition just got worse, especially in preparation for the finals

-And unsurprisingly, yours and Chanhee’s teams beat all the others and were the finalists

-The lead up to the competition was brutal, with you and Chanhee grilling your team for hours upon hours in preparation and loads of questions being thrown and tensions running high

-Your team knew that you were just grilling them to prove yourself worthy of being their team captain, and beating Chanhee’s legendary team would be the biggest proof that you were worthy of leading them

-Not that they believed otherwise, they had never gotten to the final beforehand and just getting there was amazing to them

-They also were friendly with Chanhee’s team and knew that he never stopped talking about you, a small frown decorating his face whenever he mumbled out your name in breaks

-And maybe there was a group chat which contained everyone but the two of you in order to get you two together

-Because everyone, and I mean everyone, thought you would be perfect together

-So they decided to organise a mathlete party because believe it or not, the math students know how to throw a party

-And maybe there was going to be a plot to lock the two of you into a cupboard so you would at least talk to each other

-It all just depended on the final and who would win, because if Chanhee won he would be smug and try to rub it in your face whereas if you win, Chanhee would probably sulk but maybe congratulate you

-They were secretly hoping that you would win but with how hard Chanhee has been training his team, you couldn’t be sure

-So when the competition rolls around, you’re uncharacteristically flappable, making mistakes and tripping over your words

-Chanhee couldn’t help but feel a little bit bad for you, but when the competition got going his adrenaline took over and with every mistake you made, he got more confident and slightly more cocky, not bothering to hide his grin as you made yet another easy error and got frustrated with yourself

-In the end, Chanhee’s team won

-You wouldn’t be as angry as you were if you didn’t make as many mistakes as you did but seeing Chanhee’s smug smile as the announcer presented his team with the trophy and the audience cheering for him (you were pretty sure half of them were Chanhee’s friends as they were hollering at him during the entire competition) you couldn’t help but hold back the angry tears that threatened to spill over

-Your team soothed you backstage and decided that you were going to go to the party, getting alcohol in your system and celebrating that this is the first time your college had gotten to the final of the mathlete competition

-You agreed to go, as long as you didn’t have to face Chanhee

-But the universe had different plans for you and before you knew it, you found yourself locked in a cupboard with your rival and your team giggling as they locked the door

-“Chanhee this is your chance!”

-“Y/N just talk to him!”

-“Chanhee, shoot your shot kiddo!”

-You were a bit confused as to what your team and you guess Chanhee’s friends were talking about because as far as you were aware, you didn’t really have much of an opinion of Chanhee

-You could appreciate that he was extremely attractive, especially when he came in with pink hair, but in this low lighted cupboard, you could see the angle of his nose and the way his eyes seemed to sparkle and a small smile tugged at his lips, pulling up at the corners

-Your breath hitched slightly as he took a step closer to you, backing you up against the door

-“C-Chanhee?”

-“You did great today Y/N, shame I was just a bit better” he smirked at you, leaning his hand against the door, trapping you in between him and said door

-You could smell the alcohol on his breath, knowing that you probably weren’t much better with the amount of beers and some shots you did with your team

-“Shut up, we did our best and at least we’re not as cocky as you are when we do win. There’s always next year” you mused

-“Y/N….”

-You looked up into his eyes and there was an unreadable expression in them, briefly glancing at your lips then back into your eyes

-Before you knew it, you were kissing Chanhee, arms snaking around his neck as he wrapped one arm around your waist and pressed you against the door, lips making their way down your neck leaving marks before returning to your lips

-After a few minutes, you pushed him away panting for breath

-“Let’s take this back to my place”

-The two of you ran out of the party hand in hand, stumbling slightly as the fresh air hit your slightly drunk selves as you made your way back to Chanhee’s dorm

-You woke up the next morning, a pounding in your head as you attempted to sit up before promptly flopping back down and hitting something solid

-Oh, that’s what happened last night, you thought to yourself as Chanhee groaned and woke up

-You couldn’t help but blush at the sight of him with a few hickies decorating his neck as he smiled sleepily at you

-Something inside you snapped and you realised that all this time maybe you developed a little crush on the boy you just hooked up with

-“I… uh…. Have to g-go, y-yeah I have a lecture hahah see you later!”

-With that you bolted up and threw on the nearest clothes you could find, cringing at yourself before throwing yourself out of Chanhee’s dorm

-As you left, it took every bit of self restraint to not look back but you could swear you heard Chanhee say your name but you were gone before you could hear anymore

-Running down the stairs, you took the steps two at a time and bumped into someone

-“Y/N?”

-You looked up and saw someone you vaguely recognised, maybe they were someone at the competition yesterday and you winced in pain as you tried to remember but the hangover had fully hit you at this point

-“Isn’t that Chanhee hyung’s jumper?”

-Your eyes widened and your hands flew to pull at the neck of the jumper, hoping to hide the hickies that lay there but instead your actions drew the attention of the few boys that were now gathered and you could see smirks spreading across their faces

-“Uh… no who’s Chanhee hahah?” you laughed out awkwardly, edging away from them

-“Chanhee, mathematics major from this university, has a massive crush on you though has probably only just realised, much like yourself, owner of many tragic jumpers with math puns on, and I know this is Chanhee’s jumper because I bought it for him for his last birthday. I’m Jaehyun by the way, the others are Kevin and Eric. We’re friends of Chanhee’s, and I guess yours now nice to meet you!”

-You blinked at him

-Crush on me??

-You then ran

-Too many thoughts were going round your head as you ran from the unfamiliar building into more unfamiliar territory is when it fully hit you that this wasn’t your campus and you just laughed at yourself

-“Y/N? Jaehyun said you didn’t know where you were going… I hope this isn’t too much but I just wanted to make sure you were okay?” you turned to find Chanhee, pink hair all tousled and a pyjama shirt thrown over his track pants

-You couldn’t help but smile at his figure as he approached you, gently taking your face in his hands

-“Can I kiss you Y/N?”

-“Do you even like me Chanhee? Because I just realised 10 minutes ago that I really like you and probably have ever since I first saw you and I want to kiss you I really want to but I need to know if your friend was lying or not because he said you had feelings for me but no one has feelings for a maths nerd, especially one like m-“

-You were cut off with a pair of soft lips pressing against yours and you found yourself sinking into the kiss

-It was over all too quickly, chasing Chanhee’s lips as he broke away from you

-“Y/N I’m as serious as Euler’s equation for spheres, but if that’s enough I do think Pythagoras’s theorem is kinda sexy” he said with a straight face

-You couldn’t help but laugh before leaning back in for another kiss

-”Say, don’t you have a lecture to go to?” Chanhee asked you, forehead resting on yours

“I made that up, let’s go back to bed”

-DATING CHANHEE

-Okay so, Jaehyun, Kevin and Eric saw this whole interaction and immediately snapped photos to send all over campus

-You weren’t even mad because hello, you had Chanhee ??

-Dating Chanhee resulted in very weird dates, including ones where he got you tickets to a special lecture on some mathematical breakthrough which to most people would be their idea of hell but you just screamed and thanked him profusely

-Yeah it was quite an unconventional relationship, especially because you didn’t go to the same college so dates were rare as your schedules didn’t really match up

-But you could often be found chilling on Chanhee’s campus grounds, your head in his lap as you were an in depth conversation about Einstein’s theory of special relativity, his fingers running through your hair as you posed a question at him

-When he didn’t know the answer he just kissed you, which never failed to fluster you and forget your question for a bit

-Oh, you two DEFINITELY go to science museums because even though you weren’t science majors, you loved space and Chanhee loved you and geeked out a bit at old computers and technology

-Occasionally some of Chanhee’s friends tagged along for an “educational” trip but they just wanted to see you two in action

-What they didn’t account for was you two ganging up on an unsuspecting Eric, Hwall and Sunwoo and giving them an actual tour and information about each aspect of the museum much to their horror

-You couldn’t help but laugh into Chanhee’s shoulder as the kids finally got to sit down at the café and complained about your tour

-Chanhee just held your hand and laughed along with you, amused by the kids trying to get him to buy them the most expensive menu

-One thing you didn’t know about Chanhee was that he worked many part time jobs, and you definitely didn’t expect him to work at a restaurant you went to with your mathlete team and he flirted with you in front of the entire team

-Oh, and he worked at the print shop near your campus, and the convenience store near your dorm, and occasionally took shifts at the science museum café

-You asked one day as you were lying in bed together why he worked so many part time jobs when he was so busy with college and mathletes and dating

-He just shrugged and said that he liked the work and growing up he didn’t have a lot of money so he wanted to help his family out and if he could pay for his own tuition then it was last thing for his parents to worry about

-Your grip on his hands tightened as he explained this, sensing that it was still a sensitive subject for him

-And if you found yourself frequenting all of his part time jobs by “accident” and end up staying for his entire shift to keep him company and you liked to flirt with him, especially in his barista uniform because he looked really cute

-You told him about your childhood, never being accepted for enjoying and being good at maths, even by your classmates at college, and your mom being less than supportive because what could you do with a mathematics degree

-Chanhee pulled you in for a hug, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head, giving you reassurances as you explained that your mom doesn’t talk to you anymore because you went to college instead of joining her in the family business

-You and Chanhee definitely share his wardrobe as you loved to be buried in his oversized sweaters and t-shirts with bad science and maths puns on

-Hwall just rolled his eyes every time he saw you in Chanhee’s hideous lime green jumper with a “find x” meme on it but seeing Chanhee’s face whenever you wore his clothes he couldn’t help but smile a little

-Thanks to you, Chanhee was a lot more open with his friendship group and loosened up with them a whole lot more which they ADORED

-Not to mention, you adored Eric and Eric adored you, latching onto you at every opportunity as Chanhee chased Younghoon with a maths textbook after he insulted the Pythagoras theorem

-However, if Chanhee caught Eric clinging onto you for longer than necessary or too tightly well… let’s just say Chanhee has a jealous streak and will pull Eric off you before dragging you off somewhere to make out whilst Chanhee protested that he wasn’t jealous in between kisses to which you just rolled your eyes at him

-Make out sessions are pretty frequent, mainly because you didn’t spend a lot of time together and facetime sessions just weren’t the same

-The boys walked on you way too many times making out, at parties, in his dorm, in the LIBRARY?!

-Chanhee didn’t care, he just wanted a kiss and what Chanhee wants, he gets (but only if you want to of course, he wasn’t going to pressure you into it)

-All in all, dating Chanhee is a whole nerd-filled, math ridden and quirky mess and you were perfect for each other

-It always hit you how much you loved Chanhee whenever you spent time together, the sun hitting his cheekbones as he smiled at you or when he fell asleep during the Empire Strikes Back and he snuggles closer to you or he’s just studying in his room with you there studying alongside him

-“Chanhee, I adore you”

-“You can say you love me, Y/N, I won’t freak out”

-“Unlike last time?”

-“Yeah... sorry about that”

-“Come here and kiss me”

#the boyz #the boyz scenarios #the boyz scenario #the boyz imagine #the boyz imagines #the boyz new #the boyz new scenarios #the boyz new imagines #the boyz chanhee #choi chanhee #choi chanhee scenarios #choi chanhee imagines #the boyz chanhee scenarios #the boyz chanhee imagine #the boyz college au #choi chanhee college au #the boyz new college au #cre.kerz #tbz

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divine-peach · 5 years

Text

past life reading for @solar-neon-rays

Memory:

My eyes shoot open, adrenaline coursing through my body like liquid lightning, making me jump up from the floor of the boat I was sleeping on. My heart beats erratically, weighing so much more at this moment of time than ever before, like heavy iron in my chest. Flecks of water jump from the hidden bottom of the waterfall, the line where falling water meets the ground hidden behind a churning of white foam and mist. I feel high strung, my body tight, so many emotions and feelings coursing through me - I want to cry in happiness and joy, my body tingles with excitement and anticipation and I want to jump, fly, soar. It’s exhilarating!

I turn to look at my fellow crew members who followed me on my journey, the boat staff and friends I have made along the way. “We did it, men!” You shout triumphantly, raising a fist into the air. Your cheery attitude was infectious, spreading through the people until they too started clapping each other on the back and throwing congratulations. You laugh, unable to keep all the turbulent, happy emotions inside of you. Emotions threatening to bubble over and spill. “Well done, mate” Your friend Christoff comes over and pats you on the back, hard. You smile at him - Christoff with his Norwegian immigrant parents and vaguely Australian accent. “Couldn’t have done it without you,” He whispers softly, catching his eye, before saying more loudly, “all of you”. Christoff grins, his eyes crinkling and reflecting the same warmth you feel within you. You grin back at him, gripping his shoulder. “Thanks, mate.” You turn away from him to address the rest of the group, back silhouetted against the vivid sunset, bright hues of orange and pink and blue and purple colouring the sky.

“Alright you hobgoblins [I’m presuming this was a term of affection]," You shout, voice nearly swallowed up by the roar of the steadily approaching waterfall, gaining their attention. You then proceed to give them orders, before finishing your speech with a: “We’re gonna feast tonight!”, causing cheers to once again, be let loose aboard the ship. You watch Christoff leave to join the others, causing you to turn around and gaze at the sunset that was illuminating the scene before you in a passionate flame. It was absolutely breathtaking. The first waterfall crashed into the water on your right, and further to your left, another smaller waterfall was presumably placed, given with the clear cut of water reflecting the pink hues of the sky and the slowly descending sun. The heat stuck to your skin while insects buzzed incessantly around you, yet you’ve never felt more at home or at peace.

Appearance:

You had sandy blond hair bleached constantly by the sun, combined with fine lines of platinum blond. It sat, shaggy and mop-like on top of your head, with either a hat to cover it or your fingers running through it excessively. Your skin was very tanned, a tan produced by hours upon hours of working in the sun. One time you went back home to England, you swore you could see the tips of your father’s moustache curl up in surprise. You had a cheeky grin, seemingly permanent on your face, with a nose slightly bent and crooked from years of playing rough and sports and adventure. Eyebrows were sometimes slightly singed due to your strange love of getting close or approaching an open flame and your eyes were a lovely dark green. You were quite tall, with Christoff being the tallest on the ship, and your physique wasn’t lean at all - rather hard muscle.

Traits & Characteristics:

You were a quiet curious kid when you weren’t asking questions all the time. You gazed upon the world with such wonder, often found running around in nature with a book at hand to help you identify the strange frog in the pond. You grew up to be relatively good at academics - not the best, but neither the worse, which only caused you to see more wonder in the world, feeding your curiosity. You could never keep still, always fidgeting or on the move, leading you to travel and gallivant around the world. You were easy to get along with, making many loyal friends along the way, but felt emotions really easily. You were often seen as a child in a man's body when faced with adventure or objects.

Major Themes:

Adventure

Curiosity & Discovery

Rivalry

Freedom & Liberation

Soul Searching

Peace

Wonder

Notes:

You loved to travel, spending a lot of time on the water or near the water. You especially loved your stay in Cairo, Egypt - your view of the river Nile, whether during sunrise or sunset, from where you were staying a favourite memory of yours.

This memory may have happened so where in Brazil, South America.

You were born in July, placing your sun in a Cancer-Leo cusp.

You were born and raised in England, Cheshire keeps coming up.

You were born in a well off family, your mother was seen as this soft but emotionally distant or physically distant figure in your life, while your father, though more honest and to the point, was a more fixed, stable structure in your life. You may have had a lot of fights or arguments with your father, but you both understood each other enough to quickly and easily forgive and apologise.

You wanted to continue exploring forever, yet your mother and eventually your father (persuaded by his wife) hounded you to settle down and marry a ’respectable’ woman. You eventually did, but your wife often brought upon memories of another woman, who had dark hair and skin and an easy smile.

#mine #paid readings #past life #readings #solar-neon-rays

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yjkyungwan-blog · 5 years

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𝐒𝐔𝐏 , 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐒 ! i’m very excited to finally be here ! the name’s ysa ( she / her , pst ) and i’m coming to you live , acai bowl in hand , to introduce you to the biggest pain in my ass , CHOI KYUNGWAN . okay ... maybe not the biggest , but he’s up there . he’s been at the yujaen sharehouse for about a month now and currently works as an employee at the LAVISH DRAGON SPA as well as a part time DELIVERY BOY for kentucky fried chicken . his detailed profile and connections page will be linked below and if you’d like to plot with him , please GIVE THIS POST A LIKE and i’ll be sure to make your hotline bling via the tumblr ims . or if you’d much rather prefer to figure things out on d*scord , feel free to add me @ stream me by clc#5398 . * mark lee vc * let’s get it !!

profile . connections . // trigger warning for death mention .

NAME: choi kyungwan .

FACE CLAIM: jung jaewon .

PREFERRED PRONOUNS: he / him .

AGE: twenty two .

DATE OF BIRTH: october 30 , 1996 .

ZODIAC: scorpio sun , gemini moon , cancer rising .

PERSONALITY TYPE: istp .

ROOM: yugji building , room 1b .

+ witty , perceptive , flexible , leisurely , charming . / - blunt , dishonest , reserved , unorganized , noncommital .

AESTHETICS: #being paid on time , #vegetarian-friendly food options at restaurants , #tyrian purple , #winning bets , #smoking cigarettes , #getting the last laugh , #cats , #pineapple on pizza is good you just have terrible taste , #denim jackets , #staying up late , #cold beers , #spraying febreze , #buying lottery tickets , #sarcasm , #bragging rights , #sour gummy worms , #the rush of adrenaline from catching your bus or train at the last second , #wellness shots , #the nightmare before christmas , #happy delirium , #when the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline , #finding money in your pocket that you forgot you had .

born in yongsa , south korea . only child . grew up under the care of both his parents and lived quite comfortably . his family owns lavish dragon spa , which is considered to be the biggest and most popular bathhouse in town . his father is the primary owner and keeps an eye on all the day-to-day activities , while his mother runs the books and takes care of everything from a public relations standpoint . as his parents worked full time , a lot of his childhood was spent in daycare facilities or with his late paternal grandfather .

out of all his immediate family members , kyungwan considered himself to be the closest with his grandfather . his most favorite memory of them spending time together was when he was three years old ; in the middle of summer , he distinctly remembers , walking along the seashore of yongsa beach , holding hands and laughing as he eats an ice cream cone and accidentally drops it into the sand .

when he passed away , kyungwan took a long time to process and accept it . the concept of death was a hard pill to swallow for a kid his age ; he was a little confused and a lot sad , and didn’t exactly know how to deal with it . he also wasn’t one to be outwardly emotionally expressive , still isn’t to this day , so instead of spilling tears or talking about it , he withdrew into this shell for a good chunk of his first year of middle school .

things took an upturn when he got involved with tennis . his mother , worried sick about his well-being , forced him into the idea in the midst of his “ i don’t want to do this , you can’t make me ” tantrums because she believed he needed to do something , anything to get him out of the rut he was in , and she was not going to stand by and watch her son sit tight-lipped and grieving . turns out , he had a knack for the sport ; he didn’t want to admit it at first but he liked it , and he liked that he could channel all of his negative energy out on the court . it was a way for him to express himself without actually having to express himself ... verbally .

unfortunately his interest in tennis lessened over time , just as his interests in other things grew over time , and he doesn’t play much anymore . he still considers it a hobby , though .

as briefly mentioned above , kyungwan works as an attendant at lavish dragon spa . it’s a job some may consider a “ hand out, ” due to the fact that his parents are the ones in charge , but don’t let him catch you saying that . he doesn’t mind it , working there ; it’s basically a second home to him . his father keeps on insisting to groom him for management but he’s not entirely sure he wants to commit to that yet . it’s nice to think about , a good backup plan , but he’s not 100 % sold . he doesn’t want to be tied down . wants to explore all his options .

aside from his job at the bathhouse , he also makes money through a part time job doing deliveries for kentucky fried chicken . which is so ironic , given that he doesn’t even eat meat , but who is choi kyungwan if not a walking paradox ? he responded to a wanted ad one day , went in , got the job , and it sticks . he’s not complaining . most nights he’ll come home smelling like grease and fried chicken . and depending on who you ask , that could not be a bad thing .

to be specific: kyungwan is pescetarian-vegetarian , which means he follows a strict plant-based diet with an incorporation of seafood . he doesn’t eat meat for any extreme reason , he just doesn’t like it . feels nauseous and sluggish after eating it . he’s not going to go out of his way to hound people who do eat meat , and he doesn’t get bothered if you eat some infront of him . he merely won’t have a bite . period .

kind of charming , kind of an asshole . knows how to use words to get by and truly believes karma doesn’t apply to him . sugarcoating isn’t in his vocabulary ; he’ll tell you how it is , plain and simple . sometimes he can come off insensitive in this regard , but he doesn’t mean to hurt people intentionally . nine times out of ten , the things he says or does are for his own benefit and the people around him are an afterthought . but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about his friends and loved ones . he does . he just understands that at the end of the day , the only person that’s going to take care of him is himself , and he wants to protect his heart above all else . he’s been careless before , too trusting , and has had ex friends and ex relationships walk all over him .

has an affinity for smoking . it’s a habit he picked up from those he’s been hanging around with these days . he won’t smoke in the sharehouse , he knows better not to , but he’ll light a cigarette outside . there are times where he has tried to quit but it hasn’t broken ground yet . the longest he’s gone without smoking was two months ... let’s see if he can beat that .

tends to get into fights . mighty prideful . his parents , or more so his father , hates the kind of person kyungwan is becoming and they never see eye to eye on his choices . his mother , on the other hand , always gives him the benefit of the doubt and stays perpetually worried about him . she’s been like that ever since he was young and he knows she’ll never change .

he moved out of his parents’ house because he couldn’t stand the suffocation he felt from living under their roof . they constantly argued and went back and forth , and at the time things seemed definite and final . he then moved in with his now ex girlfriend and lived with her for a few months before their imminent break up , prompting him to find a new place to stay . he contemplated going back to his parents ; was actually about a block or two away from the front door before he talked himself out of it and went to look into hostels and every other possible affordable accommodations .

and that’s how he wound up at the yujaen . this living situation is more tentative than anything , though it’s already been a month and he’s still there . he’s not the worst roommate or housemate in the world but there are definitely some things he needs to work on .

#yj:intro #hotline bling??? in 2k19???? ...... who am i #neways i'll get to messages soon!#𝟏𝟎 › 𝗈𝗈𝖼.　 / 　 𝒂 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒚 𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒐 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒌 𝒕𝒆𝒂 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒏𝒆

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moonbeambucky · 6 years

Text

The Price of Gold (Part 6)

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 3720 Warnings: Flashbacks with some heavy stuff (touching without consent, attempted sexual assault, drug use/being drugged, underage drinking), mention of cancer

Summary: As a sports journalist you’ve traveled the world interviewing famous athletes. You’ve loved your job up until you find out your next article is on the last person in the world you ever wanted to talk to, Lance Tucker.

A/N: This doesn’t follow The Bronze canon though some film details are mixed with real world events. Written for @green-eyeddragonfanfiction Dragon’s 3k Follower Creative Content Challenge. My prompt was “I can’t be in love with you!” gif source (x)

PART 5 | THE PRICE OF GOLD MASTERLIST

The following morning Lance asked to run a few errands alone, he didn’t say they were for his mother though he did mention your greeting and for a brief moment her eyes flashed with a joy he hadn’t seen in a very long time. It was a relief to see and hearing her say your name felt like he was pulled back to a time when you meant so much to him and Dorothy. It was nice while it lasted and just as quickly the memory faded, and real life needed his attention again.

The invitation was given for Lance to come to your hotel room when he was done to continue talking. His office space was unavailable for the next few days as the crew was working on transforming the unfinished area into two separate locker rooms so it wouldn’t be the best place to for conversation. Though your balcony was small it felt better sitting out there than inside your small room. From the small refrigerator you grabbed a few bottles of water– Fiji, not bothering the disgusting brand anymore– and placed them on the table.

You decided to wear casual clothes today, throwing on some jeans and choosing an olive green shirt over a blue that reminded you a little too much of Lance’s eyes. This is just business. Don’t get too close. You needed that reminder. Things with Lance were better yesterday but it doesn’t mean he’s forgiven.

He texted asking if you’d like him to bring lunch over which led to you joke about how you were always eating together. Shit was that too friendly? You were able to sleep better last night, parting ways on good terms but you felt like you should be mean. You argued with yourself over what to do until he responded with a laughing emoji, with tears in its eyes. What you said wasn’t that funny. Shit, this felt so weird; being friendly with each other was something that had been absent for so long but it was… nice you regretfully admitted. Screw it, your head hurts from all this, finally deciding that you’re not going to act in any way other than being yourself.

Less than an hour later you heard a knock at your door. It was a little strange inviting Lance into your hotel room but you pushed the thought aside and welcomed him in.

“Didn’t feel like getting dressed for work today?” he joked and you rolled your eyes, laughing at him.

He followed you to the balcony, handing over your lunch. It was comfortable outside with a surprisingly cool breeze blowing making the napkins fly off the table, the action easing the slightly awkward tension between you. Lance began to talk and you listened, occasionally setting your food aside to make some notes on your laptop.

“Maggie was acting like me,” he said, pausing to drink some water. “When I won my gold I had a bit of an ego.”

“You don’t say.” Lance’s eyes locked with yours for a brief moment and seeing the light dim in his eyes made your stomach twist with regret at your sarcastic comment.

“I’m not proud of that. I was a cocky little kid who got too much thrown into his lap… thought I could handle it.”

He explained how after Toronto Maggie thought she was too good for everything. She was rude to her other teammates, was skipping practice and going out a lot.

“I wanted to talk to her, give her one last shot since she was gonna be kicked off the team. That’s when she told me she was pregnant,” he said, looking disappointed as he reflected on the memory. “I was shocked to be honest.”

Lance spoke about Maggie’s mom Janice, who reminded him of his own mother. After his parent’s divorce Dorothy worked hard to provide for Lance, doing anything she could to make sure his dreams would come true.

“Maggie knew how much her mom struggled, a single woman, cleaning toilets and shit but she did everything for her, everything to support her and she fucked it all up by getting knocked up.” He shook his head. “Maggie tried to hide the pregnancy… didn’t want to lose her endorsements but that didn’t last. An unwed pregnant teen Olympian is not the image USA Gymnastics wanted to portray.”

“Seems pretty normal to me,” you interjected, thinking how common her situation was, minus the “Olympian” part.

“Maggie lost her deals, had blown the rest of her savings on garbage and her loser boyfriend. She didn’t think. She thought the money would always be there. That’s when she went to People magazine.”

You remembered the cover of Maggie, her hand across her swollen belly, her gold medal around her neck with the bold caption “My trainer is the father!”

“That fucking ruined my life!” he exclaimed. He grimaced thinking about it, the hurt worn on his face. “I did a lot of fucked up things,” he said as you shared an awkward glance, “but never like this. It opened the door for everything.”

Lance ran his hands through his hair. “There was nothing I could do until the kid was born,” he sighed.

Lance had asked for a paternity test before she gave birth but Maggie wouldn’t consent, wanting to milk her pregnancy for as long as she could, even using Lance’s request for more tabloid stories painting him as a “deadbeat dad.”

After that a lot of people came forward to accuse him, believing if he had an inappropriate relationship with Maggie then why not them? Girls claimed he had harassed them or touched them without consent. Lance may have been a douche but he wasn’t an idiot, he respected people and knew boundaries.

Most accusations were easily disproved, some of his accusers had never actually met him. “Except for Karen Otero,” he reflected. She was a former gymnast on the team who was very angry she was let go.

“She said I spiked her drink and raped her. I would never, EVER, do that!” he stressed, staring into your eyes.

You had just turned sixteen and your parents bought you your first cell phone. You loved that Nokia. You texted Lance, your boyfriend of three years (yes it finally happened, like everyone said it would), letting him know you were at Mike’s party. He was a friend of a friend of Lance’s, and checking the time on the dashboard Lance hoped he would be back in time to make it. He was heading back from an out of state competition which he won another gold medal for.

You were upset you couldn’t go, you rarely missed his competitions but since getting a part time job you found you couldn’t call out as easily as you hoped. It was a sacrifice you made, deciding that your perfect work attendance would be an excellent bargaining chip to use so you could take time off for the upcoming Junior Prom and Nationals next year.

Being at the house of a senior was a little intimidating. You knew a couple of people, some shared your lunch period, others you knew through Lance before he left to homeschool. You mingled throughout the house with a Smirnoff Ice in hand. You had only gotten drunk once before last year with your friend Christina. She took a bottle of rum from her parent’s liquor cabinet and stashed it along with a bottle of flat soda in the back of her closet. You drank it when you thought her parents were out, not realizing– because you were both extremely loud– that they had come home.

When they realized you were drunk her parents called yours to pick you up. Both of you ended up grounded for two months. Lance stopped by the next day but he couldn’t stay for long; your Dad kindly let him have a few minutes with you before your Mom came home.

Lance didn’t feel bad that you were grounded, he was always a bit of a goody two shoes growing up, but when you ran towards the bathroom to vomit he felt awful. He rushed to your side to hold back your hair, rubbing your back and bringing you some water. You stayed away from hard liquor ever since, experimenting here and there with beer but you didn’t really like it.

Christina was at the party with her boyfriend Dimitri so you said hello to them before making your way to watch a group playing beer pong.

A short guy named Jason came over saying hello to some people. “Hey Y/N, I see you’re out,” he said noticing the empty bottle you were still holding onto. “I’ll grab you another,” he offered. You were too preoccupied in a conversation with a girl named Shana you had gym with to notice the bottle he handed you was already opened.

Not long after Lance had pulled up to the house with blaring music. He’s greeted by a couple of friends outside, asking people if they’ve seen you, a little worried since you didn’t respond to his last text. Lance entered the house, making eye contact with Brendan Murphy, a guy on the varsity baseball team that gave you the creeps when you interviewed him for your school’s newspaper. Brendan ducked into a room and something told Lance to follow him.

Your body was buzzing, feeling the beat of the music pulsing through you, from the bottom of your toes to the top of your head. Your eyes were shut and you smiled, running your hands up and down your body. You wanted to move, to become part of the rhythm. You grabbed Jason’s hands, placing them on your hips, swaying to the sounds.

Any worries you had disappeared, any anxieties you felt were gone. You were bubbly and happy, you felt magical, like an ethereal goddess, a mythical figure. You were a mermaid, swimming in a sea of love.

Brendan entered the room as Jason grabbed the hem of your tank top, pulling it over your arms. You pulled his body closer to yours, desperate for contact. You felt more alive than you ever have and it was so mind blowing it didn’t feel real. You needed to reach out to someone, to touch them, to bring them into the world you felt.

Brendan came up behind you, running his hands over the cups of your bra, down your sides and over the curve of your ass. He then began to unbuckle his belt as Jason undid the button of your jeans.

“Get away from her!” Lance snarled.

Lunging forward he pushed Jason off of you and he fell to the ground. You stood there, giddy and excited to see Lance but you couldn’t climb through the fog to truly know what was going on.

Brendan threw a punch at Lance that landed on his jaw but it didn’t faze him. Tackling him to the ground, Lance delivered punch after punch to the pale boy’s face until his nose was bloodied.

“You fucking scumbags, what did you give her?” Lance screamed as he punched Brendan again.

“E,” Brendan coughed out, his pink face turning redder the longer Lance maintained the tight grip on his collar.

Jason got courageous and wrapped his arm around Lance’s neck and dragging him off his friend from behind. He didn’t anticipate Lance’s strength, quickly breaking free of the hold and knocking Jason out with a swift punch.

Lance rushed over to you, checking if you were hurt but truth be told you felt really good and he was starting to bring you down. You wanted to feel good, the music was calling you and you wanted to be surrounded by it again. You gently pushed Lance to the side, gliding towards the door, the light from the other room calling you to it before he caught your arm and pulled you back.

Lance felt the heat of your skin and saw the beads of sweat that pooled around your hairline. He tried to keep you in the room until he could find your shirt. Once he did he fought with you to get it on but you didn’t want it, it was too constricting, you wanted to be free to let the music touch you and flow through your body. He forced your tank top back on, lacing his arm through yours, dragging you out of the house to his car, pausing briefly to yell at Mike and tell him what Jason and Brendan did.

You were defiant with Lance, unbuckling your seatbelt because you wanted to be free. He did his best to drive safely while keeping you in the car, clenching his jaw with worry. For as carefree and happy you were feeling Lance was anxious and upset; this shouldn’t have happened to you.

A couple of his friends have tried ecstasy before so he knew the effects would dissipate in a few hours. Lance brought you back to his house, doing his best to get you inside quickly and quietly so you wouldn’t wake up the neighborhood, or worse, your parents who didn’t give you permission to go to any party. He knocked on the door of his mother’s bedroom, asking her for help as he explained what happened.

Dorothy had seen a recent news program on the dangers of ecstasy. “Get her some water and Gatorade now,” she said, taking you in Lance’s room. She bit her lip as she examined you quickly, seeing your pupils blown wide.

“Please don’t tell her parents,” Lance begged as he entered the room.

Dorothy urged you to drink and you did, unaware of the conversation she and Lance had.

“You’re sure they didn’t…” Dorothy implied assault, unable to picture you, the little girl she’s known for so long, being put in such a terrible situation.

“I’m sure,” he confirmed.

“Make sure she drinks these. If she’s still too warm or hyper, or anything else happens get me and we’re going to the hospital.”

Lance had brought you some food to eat but you weren’t hungry. Going through his drawers he pulled out a t-shirt and sweatpants for you to sleep in. You began to undress and he turned his back to you to give you privacy. He assumed you were finished when he heard you nuzzling yourself onto his mattress, the feel of his smooth comforter felt amazing against your skin. Your clothes were on the end of his bed, along with the sweatpants you didn’t put on.

He looked at them, wondering why they were on his bed and not your body. “Too hot,” you said, a content smile settling on your face as you sank into the soft mattress, wearing only his large t-shirt that went down to your thighs.

Lance grabbed your hands urging you to eat. You sat up, cupping his cheeks with your hands and pulling him in for a kiss. You were needy and wanting more, wanting everything from him, to feel his hands all over your body that burned and ached in the way that only he could ease.

“S-stop, stop,” he said, pulling away.

You’ve had your fair share of heavy makeout sessions before and hands may have begun to roam during them but that was it. You didn’t want to pressure yourselves, believing you would know when the right time was to go further.

“Not now, not like this Y/N. Please, please just eat something.”

You gave in, picking at a package of Pop-Tarts he brought in, getting crumbs all over the bed. Lance put the air conditioner on, keeping his room cool for you, dabbing your forehead with a wet washcloth and forcing you to drink more liquids. You made a few trips to the bathroom to pee in the few hours you stayed up and slowly but surely your body calmed down.

Lance pushed himself to stay up for as long as he could, making sure that you were safe. You weren’t just his girlfriend, you were his soulmate and he loved you. If anyone asked he would tell them he’s loved you since the first day he laid eyes on you, the girl with the bright red bow in her hair with a contagious laugh who asked if he could be her friend and he always would be.

Dorothy checked in on you both in the early morning, unable to sleep as she was up with worry all night. She slowly opened the door, finding Lance unchanged from the clothes she last saw him in, sleeping above the covers with your body curled against him and his arm protectively drawn over you.

You woke up the next day feeling awful. Your head felt heavy and in a fog. You smelled gross, like you ran for miles in the hot and humid sun without using deodorant. And now you were freezing, pulling the blanket up to cover your shoulders. You looked down and realized this wasn’t your blanket, nor was it your room. The large Britney Spears poster and various medals hanging on the wall informed you that you were in Lance’s room, though you don’t remember getting here.

Scrunching your eyes shut you took a deep breath and tried to remember what happened last night. You shot up, pulling your knees to your chest as fragments of the party came back to you. Lance walked in just as you were crying. He set aside the glass of orange juice he was bringing you and jumped by your side, wrapping his arms around your shaking body.

“I’m so sorry, Lance, I’m sorry. I’m so…” you bawled.

“Shhh, it’s okay Y/N,” he said, rocking you in his arms. He placed a kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering before he spoke, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Through your tearful vision you looked up at Lance, seeing the streaks of his own tears down his cheeks. “If you weren’t there…” you began and he held you tighter.

“You’re okay Y/N. You’re okay,” he repeated.

You sat back to wipe your eyes, taking in deep breaths to calm your shaking body. You looked into his eyes, the rosy veins stretching across like cherry blossom stems, the blue of his eyes bright yet unsteady like a river. Concern was etched onto his face as he reached out to gently cup your cheek.

Pressing into his hand you closed your eyes, focusing on his touch and that’s when you felt it. You’ve said “I love you” plenty of times before but now you truly felt the impact of those words. The love Lance had was running through his veins, pumping in his body with every beat of his heart.

“I love you Lance,” you declared but it was more than that, you felt more than the three words could express. Staring into the eyes of the boy who was kind enough to be your friend, who later became the man you knew in your heart you would grow old with, warts and all; you were in love with Lance Tucker.

“I love you too Y/N,” he replied, pressing his lips to yours briefly and pulling you close to his chest.

You were both silent as you laid back on his bed, listening to the sound of his heart beating, savoring the moment together for as long as you could.

You changed back into your jeans, keeping Lance’s large t-shirt on as you went to the kitchen. Dorothy was making breakfast but dropped everything to wrap you into her arms. Lance offered to continue cooking in her place but she insisted she was almost done, plating eggs and toast along with sausage for everyone.

The conversation over breakfast was as awkward as one thinks it might be when you’re discussing being drugged. Lance held your hand, giving reassuring squeezes as you spoke about what it. In the end you decided not to say anything, feeling embarrassed enough that it happened though you understood it was not your fault.

Brendan and Jason were seniors and graduating in a few months. Lance had beat them both up pretty good which you hated to admit made you feel great, and they knew to stay away from both of you. You just wanted to forget them and let the school year end without all the drama that would come with telling on them. Lance never took advantage of you and he beat the shit out of those that tried and you never forgot it.

“I know,” you said, placing a firm hand over his, “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

Lance explained that the gymnastics committee suspended him pending the investigation. In the meanwhile all of his sponsors dropped him and once again he was on the cover of tabloids, with TMZ following him everywhere.

“Someone came forward, saying they heard Frank, Karen’s dad, talking about how they could get back at me– like it was my fault Karen got cut.” He paused to take a drink, his throat becoming increasingly scratchy. “I mean yeah, I made the decision but it wasn’t personal, we didn’t have a spot for her anymore.”

Lance stopped to clear his throat before continuing. “I never recovered from it. The reporters still hounded me even though I was cleared.” He cleared his throat once more, croaking out, “Then they went after my mom.” He looked up to you sorrowfully, tears brimming his eyes.

“She was getting a lot of phone calls harassing her for comments. People started following her when she left work. She got so flustered one day she panicked and backed into a car instead of driving forward. That didn’t help.” He braced his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped together in front of his mouth.

“She was real stressed out, got bad headaches. Then I get a call from the neighbor saying she had a seizure.”

His shoulders were hunched over now, his body tensing as he continued. “Turns out, she uh…” He stopped to clear his throat again, struggling to speak, “The seizures, the headaches, even the car accident, it was all related t-to…”

You place your hand on his knee, feeling his trembling muscles underneath your touch. Tears escaped down his cheeks as he sighed, “My mom has cancer.”

PART 7

#dragon’s3k3c #lance tucker x reader #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker x you #lance tucker fanfic #lance x reader #lance x you

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laceyset-blog · 5 years

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The Athlete in Me

I was born and raised in Fresno, California where a lot of the crops are grown to be distributed throughout the United States. When I was young, I was always an active child. I had an older brother, Brian, and an older sister, Katy. We were friends with a lot of the other children on our cul-de-sac and would often get together and play games outside. That is where we always were, outside. Running and playing were my favorite things to do. Two of my best friends that lived on our street liked dancing and swimming more, so I would sometimes join them in that! However, just being outside was the best thing for me, back then.

One day, when I was two years old, some of the children from the cul-de-sac, and myself, were playing on my parents driveway. I was doing my own thing, while standing behind my parents car. My mom came to me and said something. I thought she said she was going to get something out of the car. I am hard of hearing, so I thought she said move to the side, because I am getting something out of the car. That is when I thought, why do I have to move if she’s just getting something out? All of a sudden, the car started backing up and the car hit me. Apparently, she said she was moving the car and that I needed to move. I don’t remember anything after that. It was a total accident, because my mom did not see me and assumed I had moved to the side. I was in the hospital for about two weeks, as I was told. I left the hospital with a left side facial fracture and left side paralysis. I did not do anything, because they could not fix it.

Of course I still continued to play sports and run around. Soccer and basketball were my two favorite sports. That accident did not stop me from playing.I started noticing that I my face was different than everyone else's. This was when I was about 10. I noticed when I would smile, my smile would only be on the right side of my face. The left side of my face really would not move. I hated to look back on my old pictures when I was young, because of how I looked. I remember on picture days, the night before, I would practice smiling in the mirror. I would try and figure out how much muscle I needed to use on both sides to make it as even as possible. That end result would usually conclude to me barely smiling. I would cry to my mom about how I did not want to take the picture because I thought my smile was ugly. She would reply with, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s all my fault.” On picture day, I smiled how I practiced in the mirror the night before, which was barely smiling. The photographer would tell me every year, to smile, even though I was giving them MY smile. I was embarrassed to give them a big smile they wanted. The “non smile” IS my smile that I wanted, but to other people, they thought it looked like I was mad. After a few years in elementary school, going through the cycle of me crying to my mom and then seeing my mom sad was hard for both of us. I was about 12 when II had a thought that instantly came to my mind. While all this time I was feeling pity for myself, I did not think about how my mom felt. That is when I learned that you shouldn’t think of how something affects you, but you need to think of how the other person(s) feel. From then on, I told myself to not bring this subject up ever again. I did not want to make my mom feel sad in a moment that she doesn’t need to be sad. This is me no matter what, so I gained, not physical, but mental strength to know that, yes I’m different, but that doesn’t define who I am. Who I am is a nice girl who, was and is great at playing any sport.

Sports were always my “thing.” I started playing sports when as soon as I was able to run. I also watched my brother and sister play their sports and always wanted to join them. Another thing I would do is watch soccer on the Spanish channel, because it was the only channel that would show soccer games. I didn’t care if I could understand the announcers or not, I just wanted to study the game of soccer.

At school, in elementary, I enjoyed playing basketball, as well. I always felt confident in my game. Instead of playing against the girls, I would play one on one versus the boys, and I would usually beat them too. I felt confident in any other sport I played and always wanted to give over one hundred percent. When I would race the kids on the track, I wanted to be first. I would always make that I get first by running as hard as I can. I don’t know what it was about me, but for some reason, I enjoyed the feeling of doing my best and getting the reward that I wanted from doing so. I have always had that feeling inside me to compete and give it my best shot. Don’t get me wrong, outside of the competitions, everyone always said I was shy but really nice. I guess the feeling that I get playing in competitions is my alter ego.

When I was older, I played with other people that were better than me, and I accepted that you are not always going to get the reward that you wanted. However, it still didn’t take the feeling away from me to be the best I can be. When I played soccer, I liked to have fun in all games, but I also liked to play hard in every game. My mindset going into these games were very focused, I liked to feel powerful and full of strength, physically and mentally. With physical and mental strength, it can help you in a lot of different ways.

In my early twenties, I wasn’t playing sports anymore but I still had that athlete’s mindset in me. That was much needed for the event that was coming towards me. Even though I wasn’t as active as I once was, I was still healthy and also ate fairly healthy. However, when I was 25, that event I mentioned earlier, was starting to creep in.

In October, 2017, I started to get ear pain, so I went to the urgent care doctor, as I didn’t have a doctor myself. That doctor told me I had an ear infection so I took the antibiotics that I was prescribed. After about a week or two, I finished them and I felt a little better but not all the way. I decided to wait a bit to see if the antibiotics needed time to kick in. At a later time, something just didn’t feel right, so they gave me another type of antibiotic. After all that I was feeling okay but not great. Around December, I started to feel sick. My family and I thought I was getting the flu, because that’s what it seemed like to me. I took over the counter medicine for that, hoping I would feel better. Unfortunately, it only got worse. I would throw up everything that I ate or drank. I just couldn’t hold anything down. I laid down pretty much all day.

Then it was starting to get even worse, I was feeling so weak, I couldn’t even make it to the kitchen without feeling really weak. There were plenty of times I had to ask my parents to get me whatever I needed because I felt like I was going to pass out. The first few showers that I took when all this started, I would almost pass out so I jumped out of the shower to lay down. From then on, I took baths which was better, but when I got out, I could feel my pulse going so fast. I didn’t understand why because I have always been in shape and it just was not like me to be feeling these things. I continued to lay down and just rest, trying to get some liquid and food in me to stay.

One night, I was sitting up and all of a sudden, I felt really weak and everything was spinning. My head was throbbing and I felt so sick. My mom walked me to my bedroom where she took my temperature. I had a high fever, which was hurting so bad. I laid there I cried trying to just sleep so I couldn’t feel it. Simultaneously, my parents knew something wasn’t right and were looking online on what this could be. Scared to go to sleep, thinking that I may not wake up due to my weakness, I was finally able to fall asleep. I woke up the next morning and my vision got so bad, as I used to have great vision. Everything was blurry and I could barely see. Sometimes I would just see the silhouette of someone. It was very scary, I thought I just got some chemical in my eye. We made an appointment with another urgent care doctor to see. I told her that I could barely see her and didn’t know why. However, I told her everything else that was going on. The only thing she could think of at the moment, was that I was dehydrated. She told me to drink 6 bottles of water, as my appetite was a little better, and to come back in a few days.So, I barely made it to the car with my weakness, but was hoping this would help me. I did feel a little better getting hydrated, but it didn’t help those more serious problems.

I went back to the doctor a few days later like she said. I told her everything was still the same. So, she wanted me to get a blood test done. They said I will find out the results in about 4 days. A few days later, I get a call from the urgent care, but I missed the call. I called back and a lady that worked there told me I need to go directly to the ER as my blood test was beyond normal. She sent me a picture of my blood test that showed my white blood cells, hemoglobin and platelets were all critical. I was thinking I would just go there and they would fix, which will fix my issues I have been having.

When I got called back to see the doctor in the ER, he asked what was wrong, so I told him what they said at the urgent care. I also told him that my blood counts are really off and told him I have a copy of them to show. He said, “It’s not necessary because we will need to take our own blood test.” I showed him anyways and he looked at it for about five seconds and said, “This is leukemia.” Unaware of what that was, I was confused as they sent us back to the waiting room. My mom and sister who were with me, were just as quiet as I was. I looked up what leukemia was, and to my surprise, it was a blood cancer. My mom and sister kept telling me not look anymore into it. About ten minutes later, I was called back to get another blood test and then I was admitted into the hospital where everything was just beginning.

The next day which was March 1, 2018, I was officially diagnosed with ALL, Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia. I was so bewildered of what was happening. I was there for about 24 days, which included my round one chemotherapy treatment. As it came time for my first treatment, my oncologist told me this treatment will make you feel weak, but that it was normal. The treatment plan was a week long and in the middle of it was when I started to feel weak laying in that bed. The athlete in me started to come out. I was not going to this chemotherapy make me feel weak. I wasn’t going to lay there at let it do this to me as if I’m a puppet. Therefore, I got up, got my mask on as my white blood cells were low, then marched out into the halls to walk. I walked as much as I was able to, because I thought if I’m going to be weak or tired, it’s going to be because I made myself tired by walking. I would not let chemo be the reason for my tiredness. When I got back into bed, I felt better and not weak. I needed that athlete mindset, with a physically and strong mentality.

In the midst of those weeks, I came to a realization when I wasn’t sure where this illness would take me. I was a little scared to be honest, but I realized that all of the small issues in life are not a big deal. I would read people’s comments on social media saying, “I’m too lazy to get up and do things,” or “I couldn’t find the right shirt I wanted at the store.” From what I and many others are going through, small things do not matter. I also would see people on social saying that someone else made them mad. I thought to myself, no one should let one make them upset and drag these feelings on. You only have one life to live and there are people fighting for their lives. Now that is a real problem. Another thought that I would think about is how us cancer patients are fighting for our lives, wondering what is going to happen to our future. Is there a future?

My last day came around, and my round one was concluding, I was very happy to see the outside as I couldn't go outside for three plus weeks. I was even happier to go home to see my family and my dogs. My oncologist also told me I was in remission after this first round! The remaining of the week, my hair was really starting to fall out. I decided to ask my brother to shave my head. It actually made me feel so much better to have taken it off myself instead of the chemo taking all of it off. I felt like I was steering this boat and leukemia is sitting in the back.

As it came time for my second round of chemo, I did not want to go. I kept repeating, “I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go!” Finally, the day comes and on the way there, I have a whole other attitude going on. My game face. The athlete in me will never go away. I treated that round and every other round the same, with my athletic attitude. It helped me to get through my seven rounds of chemotherapy. It helped me to always feel “above” the cancer.

After my seventh round, I got some news that there are cancer cells still hiding in my brain fluid and that I was no longer in remission. I cried in the doctor’s office when he told me that. I remained hopeful as he told me there are other treatments. He referred me to Stanford Hospital where they do bone marrow transplants. My new oncologist specializes in younger adults with this type of leukemia. I was very worried about getting a match for my bone marrow. Gratefully, my brother was an exact match for me! I felt a little better having to go through the process. I first had to go through a very strong regimen to get me into remission so that I could be ready for the transplant. It was very tough, but I always did my best to remain positive and to have my game face on. I was finally finished with that round and was able to go home for two weeks to recover before I get the transplant.

When it was time for the next part, the transplant, I had to get that athlete in me out and put my game face on. Like I did before, I went into every round as if I’m going into the competition and intending to beat my competition. It was a very hard regumin, more difficult than any I have ever had. It was a battle every day with some scare’s here and there. I relied everyday on that athlete in me to help me bring out my physical and mental strength. It was a true fight this time. The cancer and I would battle it out hard, at times the cancer winning, but I never gave up. I knew in my heart that I can beat this thing, it’s not going to beat me! I knew in my heart with everything that I’ve gone through in life, I am meant to be here on Earth and I won’t give my life up.

Finally, it was almost the date that they said I was able to go to the nearby apartment I had to stay in for a few months. I was having trouble drinking enough liquid from the mucositis i had, and for that, a lot of the nurses didn’t think I should go home on the day they said I would go home. I teared up because I got the feeling that I failed and didn’t give it a hundred percent. I told my nurse practitioner that I wanted to go home and that I can drink more. I wanted that challenge and to prove everyone wrong! The nurse practitioner came back and said, I believe in you and got everyone to agree. So, I got to go to the apartment!

The apartment was the last phase of living there in Palo Alto. I would go every day for appointments and then they would cut it down to two days a week. Each day I was getting better and better. I was told that I had no disease in my body. I remained calm and didn’t get myself too excited as I was still in the game mode. Being in that mode made me feel stronger going through this. Eventually, the doctor said I was good to go home! I got to live at home again and try to get my life back. I still currently have to continue to see my oncologist from Stanford every so often.

I have been through a lot in my life. From the accident when I was younger to getting diagnosed with Cancer, which was one of my worst fears. Even to this day, I still get worried about the future, but the athlete in me will always be there to keep my mind focused. The athlete in me is what helped me get through every mountain I have come upon. Whenever you are going through a struggle, always do your best to steer the wheel, not the other way around. It isn’t promised to always work in every battle, but it is how you go through it.

#cancer #leukemia strength gameface life strong

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lenfaz · 6 years

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Sea Squad, ch. 2 (2/14)

Summary: Killian Jones has always managed tough spots in his con life… but never like this one. His brother is out of jail and convinced the only way to win his name back is to heist the casino of a major Vegas mogul, leaving Killian to do the planning. He now has to deal with a half-brother desperate to gain a name of his own, an ex-fling that carries her own torch against the casino mogul, his brother losing his mind over his ex-wife, his former mentor’s depression and the one woman he can’t get out of his mind giving him chase. Ocean’s Eleven AU

Rating: M

Content warnings: semi-explicit sexual content, law-breaking (they are thieves, liars and con men), mild violence (someone will get punched), mention of former relationships (for the main pair) and cheating (but not for the main pair)

Chapter warning: Milah is a character in this fic.

Banner (link to banner post) and art by the amazing @clockadile Go check her art tag for the fic here!

This fic would never exist without the wonderful @sambethe who convinced me to do over hot chocolate on one cold Chicago afternoon and virtually held my hand and betaed this fic for months. thank you SO much for everything you do.

A/N: A long time ago there was talk about Hook & his sea friends and a few collective posts shaped the idea of a Sea Squad. This fic is the attempt to bring that creativity to life. Tagging @queen-mabs-revenge @thesschesthair and @jvosketches as they were part of that initial thinking back in the day. If a few things sound familiar, it’s because they are based on the movie.

Link to FFnet & AO3

on tumblr: 1

Chapter 2

It was warm and sunny in Las Vegas. Or at least, that was how the radio host described it as the sound blasted in the taxi as they cruised through the outskirts of town, on their way to Nemo’s mansion. Killian would have put it differently: blazing hot with the chance of bursting into flames when one came into direct contact with sunlight.

More than two decades out of the Motherland and he still wasn’t used to this much sunlight. To cope, he followed Liam’s lead and uncuffed his pristine white shirt and rolled his sleeves up over his forearms.

Arriving at Nemo’s, they were quickly shown into an interior patio. The place was impeccable, as always - not a piece of furniture or decoration out of place, fresh cut flowers in each room they passed, no speck of dirt or mote of dust to be seen. And yet, all of it seemed off, the house too quiet by half, and a sense of sorrow seemed to pervade the air. When Nemo finally joined them, Killian’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of their old friend - their mentor. While dressed in a well-tailored navy suit, still sporting his jacket despite the midday heat, Nemo looked like a shell of the man he’d once been. His voice might still be booming and his presence almost overwhelming, but he seemed smaller, his eyes dimmer. It was as if his image had been blurred at the edges, his presence quietly fading away. It was painful to see, and Killian darted his eyes to Liam, finding his feelings mirrored in the way Liam’s jaw clenched before he composed his features into a warm smile.

However, it only took them hinting at their idea over a magnificent lunch for Nemo to rise into his full former glory.

"You can't take on a casino in Vegas, you dimwits."

“Of course we can.” Liam took a sip of his wine. “It would be a nice challenge.”

“It cannot be done.” Nemo pointed his fork at each of them, his eyes flaring with that familiar hint of annoyance they seem to bring out in him. “I should know, lads. I all but invented security in casinos.”

“It hasn’t been tried.” Killian shrugged, leaning back in his chair and waiting for the fireworks. They shouldn’t be goading Nemo like this, they both owed this man more than they could ever repay him for. He’d rescued them from the streets, put clothes on their backs and food in their stomachs. This man had sent them to get educations while teaching them a few extra things on the side. For all intents and purposes, Nemo had been the only father they’d ever known.

Which is why it was up to them to shake him from the funk he’d been in since the Nautilus was torn down.

The vein in Nemo’s neck twitched and he had started to rub his fingers along his temple. The man who prided himself on his utter calm and poise was losing it in front of them. It was just as he used to do when Killian and Liam were teenagers and he had once again been called to the principal’s office.

It was glorious.

“It hasn’t been tried?” He put his fork down, crossed his arms over his chest, and recounted for both of them, in painstaking detail, the accounts of each of the most successful robbery attempts in Vegas’ history. None of which had been successful in the slightest, and one or two of them had Nemo playing his part to prevent them. No one tried to rob Nemo and lived to tell the tale.

Or maybe they lived, but certainly not unscathed.

Once he was done with his tirade, Nemo sat in silence for a moment, his eyes boring into both Liam and Killian until they both started fidgeting.

Finally he leaned in, his fork once again in hand and waving it between them. “You think I don’t know what you’re trying to do? You think I’m not aware of the fact that you’re trying to rile me up? Do you think I am just going to cave and indulge whatever little scheme it is you’ve concocted that you think is the most brilliant heist and the solution to all of the problems you’ve been happily sweeping under the rug for years? How gullible do you think I am?”

He pointed at Liam. “You just got out,” then at Killian. “You’ve been moping around since Tuscany, trying to find your mojo again and failing miserably.” He sighed and Killian felt the weight of the world in that sigh. “Maybe it’s time to call it quits, lads. You had a good run, I’ve had a good run. We’ve met each other, we became family. You’re welcome to stay here and let us live the rest of our lives feasting and enjoying the sunny weather.”

Liam’s face was a blank mask as he stared back at Nemo. “I can’t do that, Nemo, and you know it. I can’t be a coward who crawls back into a hole. I won’t.”

Nemo’s eyebrows twitched, the only outward sign that the punch thrown by Liam had landed. “Which casino did you pick?” he asked after a few minutes.

Liam shrugged, taking a beat to build momentum as he exchanged a look with Killian. “The Gold, the Baelfire, and the Dagger.”

The man in front of them froze, his eyes widening. “Gold’s casinos…”

“Are they?” Killian waved his hand in that nonchalant motion Nemo had mastered years before him. “I hadn’t realized.”

"Gold. You want to take on Gold?" Nemo reached for his wine and took a large gulp. He studied both them in turn, as he’d done so many times before, something hard edging into his eyes. “Revenge is a dangerous path, Liam.”

It was, and both Killian and Liam knew it.

Liam leaned in, his frank stare warning Nemo that he wasn’t going to back down. Not this time. “But it’s one that pays handsomely, if you know what you’re doing. And we know what we’re doing. You’ve taught us well, Nemo.”

There was affection infused into that last sentence, and Nemo’s face softened at the sound of it, understanding their plea. It was the plea of the child who still needed his father to guide them, help them not to completely fuck it all up. It wasn’t just Nemo’s resources they’d need, they needed the man himself, needed his guidance and mentorship. A role he had played for them so many times before.

They knew it. Nemo knew it. He sighed, running a hand over his bald head before giving in. “If you want to do this, you - we - will need more people.”

Liam smirked, his hand clasping Killian’s shoulder. “I’ve already talked to Ursula - she’s in. Killian’s on the rest.”

Both men turned to him, and Killian knew this was his moment. This was what he always did best - pick the crew that will fall under Liam’s command and execute. It was his talent and, gods, had he missed doing it.

“We need several things: electronics, drivers, and a whole lot of old friends coming back to work. But we probably should start with what we have at hand. Munitions.”

“Blackbeard?” Nemo asked but Killian shook his hand with a sad smile on his face.

“Lung cancer. He’s not fit for travel. Sends his regards and wishes us luck.” He let the news sink as he cleared his throat. “Milah is in town.”

Liam cocked an eyebrow in surprise but Nemo didn’t even flinch. It was clear the older man knew a lot more of what was happening in the city than he originally let on.

“Are you guys...?” Liam, always the one hinting at things instead of asking the point blank question.

Killian shook his head. “No, not anymore… but it ended amicably and if there is someone who would simply love to pull a heist on Gold, it’s his ex-wife.”

/-/

Killian watched from the shadows as two officers cuffed Milah and pushed her towards one of the waiting patrol cars.

It was a bloody shame. Milah was way too talented for the tossers she’d associated with for this job. He didn’t have to tail her to know that most likely her part of the work had been spot on, and from the sound blaring the building, her idiot partners had done a terrible job disconnecting the alarm, resulting in an entire bust.

Oh well, their loss was clearly his gain.

Taking a drag off his cigarette, he made his way to where one of the officers was interrogating her next to the car. “Officer, I’m Smith, from ATF.” He quickly showed a fake badge he and Liam has manufactured years ago. “Have you checked her for weapons?”

The officer nodded and from the corner of his eye, Killian saw Milah’s furtive smile. Game on.

“What about booby traps on her body?” He didn’t give the officer time to answer, instead he tossed the cigarette and started barking orders. “You incompetent idiot, go find Riggs and tell him I need him.” He took a step forward, moving the officer out of the way and pushing Milah against the car.

“Should I get a female officer?”

“Get me Riggs. NOW!” His booming order did the trick and the officer took off. He slid his hands down Milah’s sides, pretending to check for weapons.

“This brings back memories.” She delivered the words in a low purr, fun and flirty much like Milah herself had always been.

Killian smiled as he quickly uncuffed her and put something in her hands. "It's not that kind of visit."

"Oh. Still pining for the blonde, are you?" There wasn’t any anger in her voice, or even regret. She knew where they stood and she’d always been ok with it.

"Always," he sighed, pushing the memories of that blonde beauty back into his mind and focusing on the job. “Can you work with what I gave you?”

She turned around and gave him a wide smile. “It’s done. But we need to get out of here… now.”

He mimed pushing her forward by the cuffs that were no longer binding her, and they made haste towards the corner.

“So, if this is not a social visit, then please tell me you have something better for me than this.” She gestured back towards the building. “I beg of thee, save me again from my misery.”

Killian chuckled and nodded. “Indeed we do.”

“We? Is Liam around?” She all but beamed. “This is even getting better. It’d be nice to work with proper and competent professionals again.”

He bowed his head at the compliment. “Thank you, milady.”

The sound of a minor explosion threw everyone around them into chaos and gave them the opportunity to quickly disappear.

“What do you have in mind?” Milah asked as they made their way towards the diner where Liam was waiting for them.

“Something you’re going to adore, love.” Killian ran his hand through his hair, sighing deeply. Now that the rescue was over and the adrenaline had rushed off, Milah’s comment had triggered his memories of Tuscany back in full force. Blonde hair that shone under the sunlight, freckled skin he’d kissed over and over again, lust words whispered in the middle of the night. Was it possible that he’d never be over what happened in Tuscany? Will he ever be over her?

“Killian…” Milah had her hand on his arm, her eyes searching his with friendly concern. “Are you ok?”

“Aye, all good. Just ghosts from the time past, that is all.”

She gave him a reassuring smile and a squeeze of her hand on his arm. “Let’s go meet Liam and you boys can tell me all about the mischief you have planned.”

/-/

With Milah in the minute they uttered the word Gold, Liam and Killian started to put together the list of other associates they would need to pull this job off. For transportation, Ariel and Eric would do. While the two of them might bicker constantly, and more than once had taken their costumes and disguises into the bedroom, they were an invincible combination who could pull off any escape when teamed together. And given that it had been a few months since their last job, Killian knew they would be getting restless and in the mood for a new distraction. With a few texts shot back and forth, they organized a meeting for later in the week.

“But for now, brother,” Killian said as he got into one of Nemo’s cars and drove them to the airport, “we have a show to catch in Maine.”

“Maine? What the bloody fuck is in Maine?”

“Our greaseman.”

Storybrooke, Maine. A quaint little town with a lovely seacoast and enchanting shops that garnished Main Street. The diner served a divine hot chocolate that was the perfect recipe against the chilly weather.

In the outskirts of the town, a big tent structure with big bold letters announced what they’d traveled for. Charming Circus.

It was a small acrobatics company, devoted to their craft and filled with warm, kind people. In that context, it was clear that one of their attractions didn’t quite belong. His hair wasn’t the same shade of brown as the rest of them and he seemed to carry that look in his eyes. One that both Liam and Killian knew very well.

“Henry Mills, claims to be 18 but that is not what my sources tell me.” Killian fidgeted with his program as they watched the show.

“Older?” Liam asked, his eyes following every move of the lad on the stage.

“Younger. He’s an orphan, got adopted and then pulled back into the system because of a nasty situation. He never got adopted again and bounced from foster home to group home back and again.”

“Lovely childhood, I imagine.” Liam didn’t need to imagine it, and neither did Killian. They had gone through enough of that in a short phase in their lives and vowed to never go back to it. If it hadn’t been for Nemo, who knew how they would have ended up.

“Started picking pockets at ten here and there, nothing major. Then he discovered he had a knack for acrobatics and used it to his benefit. Got emancipated at fourteen and has been working with this company for a few months.” Killian lingered as he watched Henry execute a series of jumps and hoops with precision. The boy was good and it would be more than enough for what they’d need.

“I sense there is a but coming to this story.”

“The company doesn’t make that much money. He isn’t able to support himself or try anything out on his own on his portion of the cut. He’s bound to them, even if he doesn’t want to be owned by anyone at this point. He’s willing to do anything not to go back to the system, or not to end up stuck here.”

“He could do worse, they do seem like nice people.”

“Liam.”

His brother sighed. “And you can vouch for him? That he won’t sell us to the cops?”

“Aye, I’ve known a few people who’ve worked with him on the side. He’s good, quiet, and really can pull this off.”

“Fine. If you say we can trust him, I do.” Liam stood up and stretched his muscles. “Can we please get out of here now? I cannot understand how people even live here.”

“I don’t know… it has its charms.”

Liam stared at him. “You like it here? Why? We haven’t even seen one attractive woman since we got here.”

“That is not what I meant and you know it.” Killian reached their rental car and opened the door, deciding to finally address the fact both he and Liam had been studiously ignoring.

”We need Poseidon.”

Liam sighed as he got into the car. “I know we do, but from what Ursula told me, it’s going to be hard to convince him to join us. He seemed to have lost the will to live.”

“Maybe he just needs a little push. It worked with Nemo.”

“Nemo was never going to let us walk into this on our own and you know it, Killian.”

“I know, but think about it… after Nemo, Poseidon is the closest person we’ve had to a mentor or a father of sorts. He still taught us even after he caught you and Ursula snogging on that alley.”

“We were kids!”

“I’m not judging, Liam. I’m just saying that if there is one way to get him back on track, might as well be one where his daughter and the two closest things he has to sons are involved.”

Liam stared at Killian for a long moment. Long enough for him to feel the hairs on his skin rise with apprehension. “What?”

Liam shook his head. “You always have to be the charmer, don’t you?”

Killian smirked. “I have my moments.” He started the car and put it in gear. “I tell you what, you go talk to Ariel and Eric. I’ll get to Poseidon.”

/-/

Fucking Tampa, Florida of all places.

Only here did the sun shine more brightly and the heat blast higher than in Nevada. Killian played with the open collar of his shirt, and considered undoing two more buttons. He’d already discarded his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt before entering the horse races and he was still on the verge of sweating like a pig. He needed to get out of the sun, pronto. He adjusted his sunglasses as he followed Poseidon’s movements through the paddock.

When the other man finished his bet and finally took a seat, Killian made his move. But he was at least fifteen paces away from him when Poseidon started speaking without turning his head.

“You’re losing your touch, Killian.” He turned around. He looked tired, the bags around his eyes dark and his skin ashen, but there was still that tiny spark in his eyes that Killian had been counting on. “I spotted you following me about ten minutes back, huffing at the heat and probably cursing your luck for agreeing to be the one to come and try to convince me.”

“And you haven’t lost yours.” Killian tilted his head towards the upper level boxes, where the promise of blessed shade and proper bloody drinks lay. Anything had to be better than the terrible coffee that was served down here. “Come on, I got us a box seat. Nemo’s treat.”

“You got Nemo into this? Color me shocked.” Poseidon stood up and followed Killian, his steps still carrying that majestic quality and calm tempo of someone used to commanding the attention of a room. If Killian made it to his sixties with half the presence Nemo and Poseidon had, he’d consider himself a lucky bastard.

He pointed Poseidon in the direction of their seats and waited for him to sit before taking the spot next to him, motioning to the nearby waiter to get them a drink. “Your daughter is in too.”

Poseidon smirked, his eyes following the horses as the race started. “She always did have a soft spot for your brother. Even if they both have moved on, she still will jump on a job if Liam asks.”

“Milah is part of the crew as well.”

That made Poseidon give him a sardonic smile. “What is this? ‘Bring your ex to the heist day’?”

Killian shrugged. “More like a reunion of good friends who happen to be highly skilled professionals. We only like to deal with the best.”

Poseidon sighed. His eyes still followed the race, but the clear twitch in his jaw gave away his frustration. “I’ve changed, Killian.”

“People like us don’t change, Poseidon. We get beaten up a little, lose a few opportunities here and there, miscalculate a few risks, and come back from all of that with our skills refined. You can try to lie to your daughter, to Nemo, to yourself as much as you want. You can claim all you want in life is a condo in Boca and betting on horses that are never going to win.” He took a sip of his drink and pointed his finger at the race that had just ended. “You can pretend that the thrill of a few minutes of race is all the edge you’re going to need from now on, but you and I know that it won’t be enough. A month, six months, a year from now that thrill won’t be enough and you’ll end up losing the condo on a misplaced bet all because you’re bored out of your mind.”

Poseidon raised an eyebrow but didn’t look at Killian. “And what you guys are planning is not a high-risk bet?”

Killian smiled to himself. There was the defiance he needed, the edge on the forced smile of the other man’s mouth, the fisted hand that made him know that he got him.

“Of course it is, but with a much better pay off and the added insurance of good friends who will have your back.” He got closer to whisper in Poseidon’s ear. “We’re taking down the vault of 3 casinos on the busiest night of the year. We’ll each walk away with millions each.”

Killian pulled back to watch the surprise spread across Poseidon's face before continuing. “Your family, the one who loves you above all, needs one last job from you. After that, by all means, buy as many condos as you want in this rotten place and fry yourself under the sun until the day you die.”

He finished his drink, stood up, and slid a plane ticket to him. “First class, of course.” He gave Poseidon a final look. “People don’t change, Poseidon. And you - you were a god. We need you to pull this off.”

Without waiting for the man’s reply, he took off. He needed to get the fuck out of this State and back to a nice shaded corner of Nemo’s patio, pretending he was back at Tuscany. Back before his entire life got fucked up.

He couldn’t wait to pull this off so he could disappear from the map for a long season, and maybe - just maybe - search for the woman he hadn’t dare to track in the past few years.

/-/

A couple of days later, tucked into that shaded corner of Nemo’s patio and enjoying a good draft beer, Killian and Liam went through the crew they’d assembled.

“I’ve called Smee, he’s in.”

Liam snorted. “He’s always in. The guy worships you as if you were his master.” He leaned back, scanning his eyes across the patio and the pool.

Killian smirked. He’d met Smee on one of his first solo jobs, the ones where he’d first dared to break out from under Nemo and Liam’s tutelage. It had been a frightening moment, followed by the overwhelmingly liberating feeling of knowing he could stand on his two feet. That he could pull something off without their help. Smee had been nothing but a mousy young man then, afraid even of his own shadow and hesitant of speaking out loud. He had a nervous disposition and tended to fidget relentlessly with whatever knitted cap he was wearing, but he was the best at electronics Killian had ever found. It had been great to have him as first mate in that job and to team up with him ever since. The guy might be rough around the edges, and he should definitely be checked out for a few quirks, but Killian trusted him. And that counted for a lot in this business. If you couldn’t trust the people you were working with, then you were not safe in this job. That fact had cost Liam two years of his life and if this job went wrong, it would cost them all more than just a couple of years in prison. Gold was known for retaliating. They needed to be untraceable.

“He just knows which one of us is the best Jones, that is all,” Killian ran a hand through his hair. “Ariel and Eric?”

“Thrilled to be back on the game. Their honeymoon was all nice and exciting, but I think they were starting to get bored with one another. Plus you know those two enjoy the roleplaying aspect of the missions a little too much.”

Killian scrunched his face before ticking off the names with his fingers. Ariel, Eric, Ursula, Poseidon, Nemo, Henry, Smee, Milah, Liam and him. “Ten, we have ten.”

“Ten should do it, right?” Liam asked as he mentally reviewed the list as well. “We have transport and recon, electronics, munitions, an insider, a greaseman, an antagonizer, and the best impersonator alive.”

It should do. And yet…. Killian kept silent, his mind going over the crew again and again. Plans like this were a puzzle, and this one felt like it was missing a piece. There definitely was one, he could feel it in his bones. There was something that should be here and it wasn’t. Something - someone - that should be part of this.

“You think we need more, right? One more?” Liam was reading Killian’s thoughts with uncanny accuracy, his mind probably going to the same place Killian’s had gone to.

“We need one more, Liam. We need him.” Killian sighed, fidgeting with the scars underneath his tattoo. “Junior.”

When Liam’s eyes didn’t widen in surprise, Killian knew he was right and that his brother had already thought about it too.

“Are you sure?”

It was a bold move, and Killian wasn’t sure if there’d even be a pay off. But if the rumors he’s heard through the mill for the past few years were true, then they were ready.

“It’s time, Liam. Let’s get him.”

/-/

Chicago’s weather was more like it. Wind, rain, cold, snow. Killian took a deep, satisfactory breath as he let the cold air invade his lungs, feeling himself alive in the red of his cheeks and the chill in his fingers that made them feel sharper here than in the hot weather. He shoved his hands in his coat pocket, following his brother as they both boarded the train. Their mark was a few paces ahead of them in the car, and Killian watched as the lad picked several pockets with deadly accuracy. His demeanor was absolutely fucking perfect as he did it - sharp, precise in his movements, his clothing downright ordinary, and he wore a cap that hid his face from the cameras. He looked like any other twenty-something student with a backpack.

It was brilliant. He was brilliant.

It made Killian want to shed a bloody tear or two right in the middle of the car.

As if Liam could read his mind, his brother turned over and made a silent motion, urging him to maintain his bloody composure. Now was not the time to get all emotional over their half-brother being so bloody good at the family business.

Because that was exactly what they were looking at - Liam Oliver Jones Thompson, also known as Junior. He was the result of their father’s flagrant affair with a high society girl he had been conning, right after the bastard had abandoned both Liam and Killian to fend for themselves. True to form, he had taken off once he’d stripped the heiress of a hefty sum and left her disowned by her family, with a small baby, little means to support herself, and a penchant for cheap gin.

Life had not been kind for Junior, who pretty much had taken any chance he had to show off his skills and impress a father who was more content seducing his next prey than paying his son any attention. The old man had finally kicked the bucket a couple of years ago, right around the time Liam had gone to jail and just after Killian’s fallout in Tuscany. As a result, all chances to look up the kid had been put on hold as the brothers dealt with their own personal bullshit.

But now it was finally time to set things to straight.

Killian watched as Liam bumped slightly into Junior, letting the kid take his decoy wallet while he slid a card on the lad’s inner jacket pocket. The bastard was the smoothest son of a bitch he ever met when it came to picking pockets, and watching both brothers in action at the same time was more than Killian could take on such an emotional day. He turned around and quickly dried the tear that has escaped his eyes, hoping Liam hadn’t noticed.

Liam clasped his shoulder as the train stopped and the doors slide open. “You’re such a softie, Killian. Let’s get the hell out of this cold and go get a warm cup of coffee.”

“I know just the place.”

/-/

Killian felt the warmth of the mug transfer into his numb fingers and sighed with pleasure. No one made coffee as good as Intelligentsia's in Las Vegas, plus he’d sorely missed the type of weather that was perfect for sitting down inside with a cup of coffee as the snow fell outside. It soothed his nerves.

Liam, on the other hand, was fidgeting as if all his limbs were covered in ants.

“You think he knows the place?” he asked for the third time.

Killian chose to ignore his questions, instead taking a sip of his coffee and letting the flavor roll over his tongue. After another minute of Liam rattling their table with his knee, Killian finally lost his patience. “You need to cool it. Fidgeting around like a virgin debutante on their wedding night is not the first impression you want to make.”

His brother laughed and shook his head. “I know, I know it’s just-” Liam sighed and lifted his head. Whatever he was going to say was interrupted as Junior finally walked in.

He went directly to their table and tossed Liam’s card on the table. “What is the meaning of this?”

Liam seemed to finally pull himself together. “Do you know who I am?”

“I do now,” their brother spat. His resentment was clear in his tone and Killian could feel down to his bones all the anger and regret of someone who had been left behind and had to fend for himself. “Though I knew before. The two of you are hard to miss in this business.”

Liam smirked. “Junior.”

Junior’s glare was enough to silence Liam. “Don’t call me that.”

“What should I call you?”

“My name is Liam. But I guess that one is taken, isn’t it?” If the blush in Liam’s cheeks was any indication, the barb was cutting deep.

“It doesn’t have to be.” There was a softness to Liam’s voice, an understanding that was passing between the two brothers. One that for the first time in his life was leaving Killian on the outside. He wasn't jealous, per se, as he could only imagine what was going through the heads of two people who were coming to terms to the fact that their father hadn’t cared enough to even name them differently. It was a punch in the gut for the young as much as it was for the old.

Junior sighed, running his hand through his hair in an unmistakably Jones trademark move before taking a seat at the table. “You can call me LJ, I guess.”

“LJ it is.” Liam slid a plane ticket across the table to him. “In or out, brother?”

“I’m not your brother.”

It was a defensive move. Killian could recognize all the signs in his clenched jaw and downcast eyes.

“Yes, you are,” Killian said with a conviction he hadn’t realized he had until he heard the denial tumble out of his younger half-brother’s mouth. “And this here? This is the opportunity of a lifetime.”

The words did their job as LJ’s curiosity was obviously peaked as he quickly rearranged himself on the seat and glanced over them thoroughly. “What’s the plan?”

“We can’t tell you here.” Killian noticed LJ’s skepticism and lifted a finger, pointing at him. “But what I can tell you is that if we do this, it will be major. It will be our names - your name - surpassing any other bullshit Brennan might have done. This is it, brother. And in order to pull it off, I need the best and most nimble fingers in the business. There’s only two people in the world that are that good. And you’re one of them.”

“Who’s the other one?”

Liam saluted. “Guilty as charged. But I’m not as nimble as you are. Plus, two years in prison have left me rusty and recognizable.”

“So you need a replacement? Is that it?”

It was like advancing one step and backtracking five where LJ was concerned. They were treading in muddy waters with a brother who was desperate to be part of the business but still wasn’t sure he wanted to be part of the family.

“No, it’s not like that,” Liam amended, trying to find the right words.

LJ swallowed, his finger tracing a pattern over the surface of the table. “Do you know if there are more of... of us?”

Liam looked taken aback and exchanged a quick look with Killian.

Killian sighed, fidgeting with his mug before meeting his brother’s eyes. “Two more, both girls. Ages fourteen and twelve. Their mothers were welcomed back into their families and the girls are being raised away from this all. We tried to contact them, but we were politely asked to back away.” It hadn’t been polite at all, but that was neither here nor there.

“Lucky for them,” LJ mumbled. There was a remorse in his eyes that all but broke Killian’s heart.

“Liam,” he said, stressing his brother’s name. “Come to Vegas with us. Be a part of something. It’s time for you to join the family business.”

#cs bb #sea squad #lenfaz fics #cs ff #captain swan

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astereaholloway · 5 years

Text

- ̗̀ * ( sophie turner + cisfemale + she/her ) have you seen ( aster holloway ) walking around campus ? they are a ( twenty-one ) year old, studying ( botany + entomology ). we hear they are in ( theta sigma eta ), and can be ( opinionated & daunting ), maybe it’s because they are an ( aries ). they sort of remind us of ( abandoned greenhouses, spinning bike wheels , iridescent pocket knives ), maybe we can find out more ! * ̖́- + habitat

i yeet’d holliday for this child o’ mine pls love her bc i love her sm i’ll prolly change her fc to sophie turner as soon as i get tired of cropping gifs of saoirse but enjoy her face for now sksksk. like this n i’ll come to u!!

tw: fire, death, cancer, etc. etc.

gen. info

full name: aster holloway

nickname(s): n/a, give her one n she’ll cut you probably

b.o.d. - april 1st.

label(s): the hellcat, the minefield, the connard, etc. etc.

height: probably like 5′7″ or 5′8″ tbh

hometown: inglewood, california

sexuality: chaotic. lesbian.

bio. info

hasn’t had the most......stable, life

born to dahlia verbeck, a botanist, wildlife conservationist, and volunteer firefighter whose presence was very well known in south california’s environmental scene

to keep a long story short, she married maverick holloway; a sleazy low-rank cop with a smoking problem and an obnoxious personality when she was 19. he was nearly twice her age. nobody knows why she married him, or why she tolerated him

the relationship was by no means abusive, but it was lackluster

this led to dahlia having a one night stand, and baba boom baba bing, aster was conceived

the only one who knew that the child wasn’t maverick’s was dahlia’s twin brother, donovan, whose career was p much the exact same as dahlia’s

they were basically both mad scientists; when dahlia started slacking because of her pregnancy, donovan would kick it up

like ykno the twin scientists in bioshock infinite ?? that them like they were eerily alike, always finishing each other’s sentences. nightmare fuel.

the only difference was that donovan was considerably less intense than dahlia b/c dahlia was the kinda lass who would set fire to your car

anywAYs so aster was born and everything was fine n dandy until she got a lil older and it suddenly became clear that this child was absolutely not maverick’s at all because they looked. nothing alike. like u know when u can just tell ?? yeah. yeah u could tell

maverick left dahlia afterwards and it was essentially up to her to raise aster alone. donovan had his own wife and kid to take care of and sort of backed down from his career to do so. house dads ftw

aster grew up knowing her dad as some ‘deadbeat no good’ simply bc dahlia was bitter

also grew up as the kid who would hold worms over another kid’s face and taunt them w/ it. so like, playground bully. that was aster. she’s not ashamed of it

she was often left on her own to do her own kinda shit b/c her mom was always busy out in nature n’ shit but aster never minded; loved her mom a Lot

aster’s life changed when she was nine

her mother had been doing research out in the ~wilderness~ with donovan, after months of convincing him of doing this one last project with her~ when the wildfires started

it spread so fast, and they were already too far away from the road

it took them two months to confirm that the twins were dead

rather than leave aster to maverick, elaine--donovan’s wife--took her under her wing and moved across the country to boston alongside myra, her daughter

elaine always held a resentment towards aster because of her mother, but never did anything about it--it was just always, sorta, implied ?

but myra and aster got along swimmingly despite being polar opposites

aster was p much a feral child, and myra had been receiving etiquette lessons since birth, practically--like, literally

elaine put them in the same hobbies but aster always found ways to be wildly different from the ~standard~

myra learned cello and flute, aster started up on bass and drums (breaking both instruments, repeatedly, for many years)

elaine forced dance onto the both of them, and whilst they both excelled at ballet--aster switched over to a more free-flowing dance as soon as she was able to

(that and when elaine tried to put aster in sports instead of dance--figuring her fiery nature would be put to good use--aster managed to get kicked off of every single team of every single sport she tried b/c of her aggression. theyve had to fight a few lawsuits after aster’s broken a number of noses and sporting equipments)

myra was learning two languages, aster? dyslexic and could barely read english as it was; science made sense to her, however. plants? especially.

people confused myra and aster for twins nearly all the damn time, despite only being cousins, they were so alike and yet so opposite

that was, of course, until they got into a nasty spat when they were seventeen

it was something about dead parents and resentments and yadda yadda; it didn’t end well

aster wound up running away......all the way back to los angeles.

n i mean like......homegirl literally managed to run away across the gd country w/o getting caught or murdered

by the time she arrived in los angeles her aunt was sort of like ‘fuck it ur almost 18′ b/c....aster was nearly 18 by the time she arrived in the city, and elaine contacted maverick who in which found aster

aster did not want to go with him, after hearing stories about him just being no-good

but at that point, maverick was one of los angeles’ head detectives with a beautiful apartment and a beautiful wife and a beautiful dog and just kind of living his best life ?? after dahlia’s death he had really cleaned himself up y’kno

aster still kind of resented him but that was more of an inner thing

anyways she started attending ucla b/c her mother attended ucla, but her mother wasn’t a part of a sorority

it was one of those spur of the moment decisions and like nobody knows how aster ended up in theta sigma eta b/c she’s like a grumpy grandmother

but like she dun’ did that

we stan

a year ago maverick was diagnosed w cancer and has been in the hospital battling it ever since, aster is admittedly effected by it but like would never tell anybody ever

she doesn’t really tell anybody anything about her life, like, it’s a gd mystery

uuuuuuuuh aster works in a floral shop as a florist and grows her own shit ranging from fruits, vegetables, weed, shrooms, uh opium poppies yeah she Does that

it’s organic n fresh n shit like the devil works hard but aster works harder

she doesn’t really ~sell~ too often b/c she’s kinda selfish w her stash but it’s some top notch shit when she does

no she doesn’t grow in the floral shop she’s not Stupid

aster inherited some of her mother’s properties Out There so she drives up almost everyday to take care of her plants

uuuhh fun fact, aster’s part of a dance like...company, kind of? but not really ? outside of ucla b/c she hates being involved in school shit besides habitat for humanity

personality

v v v harsh tbh

she won’t beat around the bush, usually...brutally honest, tbh?

like lbr she’s kind of a bitch too

just v offputting at first b/c she tells it like how it is n doesn’t rly care abt ur problems

doesn’t go around lookin’ for new friends but if you’re tight w her then she’ll probably die for u like she’s v loyal

but if u wrong her like even once she’ll drop u and treat u like right shit

she either feels intensely or nothing at all n that’s like. smth u have to deal w/

she’s v v v chaotic neutral, bordering evil--really works in her own favors

became a botanist after her mother bc she admired her mother more than anybody else

not saying that being vegan is a personality trait

but

aster’s a vegan

n just super hardcore into saving the earth n shit?

litter and she’ll break ur nose, basically

v into sustainable living n shit. rides her bicycle everywhere if she can, rly rarely drives, doesn’t do fast fashion at ALL

v v passionate, will argue w/ u until u admit she’s right even if she’s painfully wrong

like super stubborn, v opinionated, assumes the worst of u immediately

a lil cynical, but is more realist than pessimist

BIG FUCKING GAY

like so gay

she’s not Out-Out but she definitely doesn’t hide it, just doesn’t think it’s necessary to be like ‘im gay’ every 5 minutes n doesn’t think it’s necessary to let ppl kno she’s gay b/c shes just like....its my business

kinda bitch to flirt w dudes for fun in order to lead them on, get them to do things for her, etc. etc. just to disappoint in the end

this is big dumbass energy b/c that’s how u get stabbed

unless aster stabs u first

kinda gal who’ll key ur car if u piss her off during a class debate, but will also stick thumb tacks into ur wheels n shit too

like.....i said she’s spiteful, right? b/c she can b so spiteful

really, genuinely, has no regard for other ppl’s feelings

her music taste is either heavy rock or straight up like grimes/die antwoord there is no in between (prolly listens to billie eilish tho)

owns a pet tarantula n yes she has it in her dorm n Yes she brings it out n plays w it n shit her name is stevie nicks n u better respect her

big slut

would never cheat on u but also probably wouldn’t date u in the first place bc she’s scared of like....being in a relationship b/c all of hers are p much on the rocks

probably carries around a pocket knife at all times

probably bought said pocket knife from a dude in an alleyway for like $5

myra also goes to ucla and theyre 100% still not speaking but that’s bc they’re both too stubborn to go to each other but like lbr aster misses her cousin

v unruly, nvr brushes her hair, usually got dirt on her clothes bc she’s prolly been digging in gardens or stealing flowers or some shit

bright side is tht she always smells like flowers

theta sigma eta is lucky b/c she cooks her own meals w her own fresh veggies n shit n she always makes too much food n like ? so good

but anyways she’s also got like no manners okay she’s so impolite

uuuuuuh god i dunno what else

wanted connections

ride or die

other friends of varying closeness

ex-friends ???

...like somebody she’s into but also...not into? v conflicted feelings

on-and-off-agains bc their relationship is awful n probably toxic but it just. hurt so good

ex-gfs

ex-hookups

boys she’s led on

boys she’s currently leading on

flirtatious encounter gone wrong [not clickbait] ??

enemies

enemies but gone sexual [not clickbait]

buyers of her products - either weed, shrooms, or opium teehee

roommate

give her somebody she was a uwu soft crush on but would nvr do anything abt bc gross romance !!

alternately, unrequited crushes of any sorts

fellow gays b/c gays always end up knowing each other

party pals

frenemies ??

sdfgh give me her dad’s trophy wife pleathe....it’d be so funny

childhood friends tht knew her b4 she moved to boston so like...ages 0-9

childhood friends tht knew her after she moved to boston so like...ages 9-17

or acquaintances bc she was....a mean one

A TUTOR just b/c she can rly struggle w her dyslexia

#uclas:intro

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cnzmendoza · 5 years

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Discovering the Map to Remission

How an MDMA-assisted therapy trial saved John Saul’s life

His hands felt frozen. It was frigid and windy outside, but 50 degree weather was normal for Sausalito, California. And besides, even if it was warmer, his fingers would still feel stiff and close to paralyzed.

John Saul struggled to get out of bed. It felt like he had the flu. His body was fatigued, his head throbbed, and even the smallest movements would leave him out of breath. He had felt the same way the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that one, too. In 2012, he was diagnosed with systemic scleroderma, an incurable autoimmune disease that led his body to attack itself. Now three years laters, he had work to do as always, so he had to get up. He popped half a Percocet and started his day.

He flipped open the San Francisco Chronicle, and his eyes shifted to an unusual article. The title read “Ecstasy therapy approved for trial in Marin County.” Two therapists, Dr. Phil Wolfson and his wife Julane Andries, were seeking patients for a clinical therapeutic trial. They were looking for people with life-threatening illnesses. They were looking for someone like John.

This clinical trial would be part of a Phase II study on MDMA-assisted therapy. MDMA, or 3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine — more commonly known as ecstasy or molly — is often seen as a party drug. Its ability to produce transcendent bliss and unfiltered connection has made it popular at raves and night clubs, but the possibility of traumatic hallucinations and death have perpetrated the drug’s stigma.

John had never used MDMA before, but he’d dabbled with drugs briefly as a kid. Growing up in La Cañada, California, he would sneak out on a full moon night, make his way to the Pasadena hills near his home, and trip on psilocybin mushrooms. Given that he was only in middle school at the time, he remembers not knowing how to process what he experienced during those trips. “All I knew was that I felt the presence of something different,” he says. “It was something much bigger, almost like another force of life.”

Though MDMA would be something new for John, he wasn’t fearful. In fact, he was filled with the same curiosity that thrilled him as a young teenager, an eagerness and sense of excitement that had been dormant for decades. “At that time, there was no light at the end of the tunnel. The trial gave me hope that I would have some sort of say in how my life played out.” Now, John hoped that this alternate life force could help in the ways that everything else had failed to do so.

A nonprofit organization called The Multidisciplinary Association for Psychedelic Studies (MAPS) would conduct the trial, as it had raised millions of dollars for research funding. MAPS was founded in 1986 by Rick Doblin, who has spent his entire career researching the therapeutic value of psychedelic drugs. He wrote his Master’s thesis on marijuana use for cancer patients, and in 2001, he received his Ph.D. from Harvard after writing his dissertation on the regulation of medical use for marijuana and psychedelics.��

Collaborating with doctors and therapists around the world, MAPS also designs the studies and works with the Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) and the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to gain regulatory approval and ensure safe, ethical protocols. After a successful Phase I, which is primarily to test out safety regulations, MAPS was now continuing the Phase II study. Other trials in South Carolina and Colorado were aimed at treating post-traumatic stress disorder, and now MAPS was looking to treat anxiety caused by life-threatening illnesses. The purpose of the therapy was not to cure these illnesses, but rather to give people peace and to help them gain control of their hindered lives.

Many people assume that those with life-threatening illnesses have anxiety because they’re in the face of death. “That’s a sure source of the anxiety,” John says. “But, at least for me, death is way easier to accept in comparison to just how hard life is. All I’m thinking is How am I supposed to go on?”

Systemic scleroderma struck John fiercely at age 47. He had been an athlete all of his life, wrestling since he was 8. He got involved with sports in high school, and eventually went on to wrestle for the division-1 team at Cal State Fullerton. He went to the gym daily, sailed boats, and ran half-marathons. His life as a jock had kept him outdoors, fulfilling his everlasting urge for adventure.

But now, at 50, his joints ached like they were plagued by arthritis, and his hands swelled so much that they were stuck as if holding a microphone. Scleroderma causes an overproduction of collagen in the body, which is typically most noticeable in the hardening of the hands and the face. John’s fingerprints had vanished, and his skin morphed into a waxy, mannequin-like consistency. The extra collagen essentially affected his whole body, but if it were to get into his lungs, heart, or kidneys, he would die. He always had a slight headache and felt chronically dehydrated. His stomach acid raged within, and his bowels were constantly irritated. The skin on his stomach was so tight that he couldn’t stand up straight, and the rest of his skin burned and felt toxic, like he was lying in flames. It hurt just to touch it.

The only thing that could keep him going was his opiates.

Each morning he would wash a tiny pill down with a glass of water, just to gain enough courage to get out of bed. The painkiller’s effects would only last for about two hours, though, so he would take several a day to numb himself.

John had spent the last several years building up his own yacht-brokering business, and he was thrilled to be in a profession that he loved. Even more so, he was proud to be the owner of a company that was finally gaining some momentum. But as his disease progressed, his body began to mimic the elderly grandparents who made up most of Sausalito’s population. For months now, John had little energy or motivation to live.

There is no cure for scleroderma, only treatments to lessen the symptoms. For years John tried everything to maintain a normal life. He had a chest port inserted in his body to directly inject antibiotics into his veins, which had been proven to help arthritis. This treatment was beneficial for the first year as it minimized the hardening and aching of John’s joints, but he continued to use it for longer than he should have. He received the antibiotics for another two years, and his digestive system weakened as a result.

He went through every nutritional aspect that he could think of, testing out which foods triggered the disease. Because of a fragile digestive system that would lead to bloating and bowel irritation, he had to cut out foods like red meat and dairy products. He tried to incorporate more fruits and vegetables into his diet, but that could only do so much.

He tried traditional talk therapy for a brief time, but he found the effects to be short-lived. Exercise, which had been his coping mechanism since high school, also seemed to be completely out of the picture. Even a trip to the grocery store would leave him out of breath, and he couldn’t drive back home until he sat in the car, reclined his seat, and napped for an hour.

Working from home also took more energy than he could afford to give. He could barely pick up the phone to call clients because his hands were crippled, and their waxy texture didn’t provide much grip. His business was losing money, and he was becoming isolated from his work and friends. The thought of death, and the anxiety of awaiting its arrival, secluded him even more from real life. Perhaps, he often thought, it would just be better to end his life himself.

As he held the San Francisco Chronicle in his waxy hands, he knew that he had to enroll. This trial, he believed, would be his very last chance.

John reached out to the MAPS trial researchers and got in touch with Phil and Julane. Phil told him that he certainly qualified for the trial, but he would have to go through an interview and some tests before his spot was guaranteed. John drove to the site of the trial, which was only twenty minutes from his home in Sausalito. He went up into the Muir Woods, on the windy road and through the infinite, colossal redwood trees. Finally, near the top of the mountains, he reached Phil’s office.

They told him in order to participate in the trial, John had to have a clean drug test. This meant cutting out the opiates that had been his saving grace for almost four years. “Opiates get a really bad reputation, but they truly kept me alive,” John says.

Phil and Julane gave him a tapering schedule to manage the withdrawals that were sure to come as he laid off the opiates. When he got home, he looked at the clock. The last time he had taken an opiate was at 9am. He had always known this day would come, but now it was really time. He ripped up the schedule and threw it in the trash. He wouldn’t put another opiate into his mouth.

The withdrawals were torturous and the pain so petrifying that he couldn’t sleep. In the early hours of the morning, he called his best friend, Jim. His body was on fire. His heart was beating at a million miles per hour, throbbing so hard that it might break through his chest at any moment. Sweat gushed down his face, and his fragile body shook like it was being electrocuted. He felt nervous and agitated as excess energy vibrated throughout his bones. The energy wasn’t the kind that he used to feel after a half-marathon or a boat race. Instead, he wanted to strangle someone, but he also wanted to weep. It had only been 18 hours since his last opiate.

The opiate withdrawals were so agonizing that it was often hard to tell the difference between physical pain and mental anguish. But this was all he had, so it would have to be worth it.

In the fall of 2015, John was accepted into the study, and once more, he drove up the curvy mountains to the study site. The sunshine illuminated the wooden walls and the burgundy and light brown furniture around the room. The panoramic windows displayed the sea of green and the heavy clouds that were preparing for a storm. By the middle window, there sat a kind of shrine. Two pots of vibrant orchids were surrounded by candles, tiny figurines, and a picture of the therapists’ 16-year-old son Noah.

Before the initial dosing, John had several therapy sessions with Phil and Julane. They told him that by the end of this process, they would know him better than anyone, and better than he knew himself. He was encouraged do “homework” in between sessions. He would take notes on things that he knew he needed to work on, and things that made him severely uncomfortable. These sessions would help the therapists, and MDMA, guide John through life and death.

His first MDMA dosing took him into another realm. He popped the pure MDMA pill that Phil had created in 1983. He laid on the “tripping couch” with his eyes closed and feet posted up. Ambient music played in the background. About 30 minutes passed, and he was flying. The colors around the room were the brightest he had ever seen. Each element was amplified and begged for his attention. The books on the tables, the paintings on the walls, and the plants around the room all came alive and greeted him with extraordinary personalities. When he closed his eyes, bright geometric patterns would dance around the back of his eyelids.

Phil and Julane placed their hands on him, and for the first time, John experienced one of the most profound parts of MDMA-assisted therapy: human connection.

He was wrapped in safety and comfort, and Phil and Julane took on the role of surrogate parents. “It felt like being bundled up and coming home from the hospital after you’re born,” John says. “It just felt that good.”

They told him to go in, drift inside his head, and let the medicine do the work.

His life began to come alive like a picture book on a coffee table. People in his life would come onto the pages in the most crisp, vivid colors he had ever witnessed. He could take his time flipping through every page, remembering the purpose or the lesson that each person provided him with. Time became abnormal, and he would feel like he had been in the picture book for hours. It would really only be about 30 minutes.

Phil and Julane would nudge him lightly after some time, and invite him to sit up. They had work to do. They would give him some gentle guidance, but ultimately, he would begin to talk about whatever was on his heart. “MDMA has some kind of intelligence that’s hard to describe, but it knows exactly what to bring up,” says John.

Marcella Ot’alora, the principal investigator for the Colorado PTSD trial, explains that MDMA activates certain parts of the brain while lessening the activity in others. It effects the amygdala, the part of the brain that elicits fear, by making it less active. It releases serotonin and oxytocin, which establishes a sense of wellbeing, encourages self-acceptance, and heightens the bonding with therapists. Judgement is also not so present, which makes patients feel kind and affectionate toward themselves and others. Ot’alora emphasizes that seeing yourself and the world this way, especially when processing trauma, is a critical component in therapy.

Words would fly out of John’s mouth with the ease of reciting the alphabet. He and the therapists would shed light on the darkest, most uncomfortable parts of his life. They would discuss and analyze, all going down the same road collectively, for an hour or two before John would start to lose energy. He would then lay down again and get lost in the picture book within his mind. This went on for about eight hours, and when the MDMA wore off, he would spend the night at the study-site. John says that this first session felt like he had done 15 years worth of therapy in one day.

The euphoria that John experienced is one that has stunned scientists and therapists for decades. MDMA was synthetically developed by a German company in 1912, but its use was dormant for several decades after the initial creation. It wasn’t until the 1970s that Dr. Alexander Shulgin, who obtained a biochemistry Ph.D. from UC Berkeley, first began to develop his own MDMA. After some self-experimenting, Shulgin relayed his excitement about the drug to Oakland psychiatrist Leo Zeff.

Zeff, mutually mystified by the healing powers of the drug, helped Shulgin spread the word to dozens of other psychiatrists and therapists - one of whom was John’s therapist, Phil. Their hope that the drug could enhance therapeutic practices showed promise, but their campaign was short-lived. Although MDMA’s value was becoming known in a small medical community, it was simultaneously gaining fame in the party scene.

The misuse of MDMA, paired with Ronald Reagan’s war on drugs, led to its placement as a Schedule I drug in 1985. This meant that it would be illegal, had no medical value, was likely to be abused, and lacked safety for use with medical supervision.

Though John was thrilled for what he believed would be a revolutionary therapy, the legalization of MDMA for therapeutic purposes has been difficult to fight for. The recreational use of the drug has resulted in a nationwide stigma. Especially since the rising popularity of raves, MDMA’s recreational use has been fatal for many in the U.S. The deaths related to the drug have also been publicized by the media perhaps more than any other drug in recent times. According to the Los Angeles Times, at least 29 people have died since 2006 because of drug-related causes at raves hosted by LA-based companies. A majority of them had MDMA in their system at the time of death.

These deaths, affecting people from the ages of 15 to 37, have understandably struck fear and anger into people all over the country. While the effects of MDMA are euphoric and otherworldly, the drug can be high-risk if used recreationally. Death is a possibility without safety precautions and a genuine understanding of how the body and the drug work together.

MDMA-related deaths have been caused by a multitude of different scenarios. Many people who died from MDMA-related causes were also found to have had other drugs in their bodies at the time, such as cocaine, heroine, and methamphethamines. Nevertheless, ecstasy or molly pills are almost never pure MDMA and can contain mixtures of other unknown substances.

Because high body temperatures are a natural reaction to MDMA, dehydration and over-hydration have also played significant roles in these deaths. Aside from the dangerous physical effects that can occur when an MDMA dose is not properly monitored, the mental effects can be just as damaging.

Environment is a crucial component for MDMA trips because, as experienced in the PTSD trials, the drug has the ability to bring up traumatic memories that may have been suppressed for years. Without proper preparation and guidance, the drug can cause mental anguish that can further traumatize people or lead them to take life-threatening measures.

Because of these possibilities for harm, MAPS researchers have put together strict protocols to ensure that their patients’ bodies and minds are protected at all times. This protection comes from a variety of mechanisms, the first being the therapists’ genuine knowledge of the drug and its powers. Their expertise is necessary to monitor the patient’s body, such as their heart-rate and body temperature, to observe any negative reactions to the drug. Because MDMA enhances the way the brain processes its surroundings, a balanced physical setting is also imperative. The trials require a fairly quiet environment, which is void of any external stimuli that could cause negative distractions. To further create a sense of safety and tranquility, blankets are provided and ambient music is encouraged. Perhaps most importantly, it’s crucial for the therapists and the patient to establish an alliance - a relationship that is built on trust and empathy. This is one of the most revolutionary components of the therapy as it proactively guides the patient to build healthy relationships and use human connection as a healing tool.

The trials have taken place in several parts of the world, including the U.S., Israel, and Sweden. So far, the small sample sizes have been relatively small, and almost all of the trials have been funded by one organization: MAPS. Though the trials have some questionable attributes, the results have been quite promising.

In 2008, Michael and Ann Mithoefer completed the first MDMA-assisted therapy clinical trial. They published the study in The Journal of Psychopharmacology in 2012, which aimed to treat individuals suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. They stated that out of 19 patients that received the MDMA treatment, 14 sustained significant benefits at their long-term follow-up, which occurred during an average of 3.5 years after the dosing. These results were measured by the Clinician Administered PTSD Score (CAPS), which shows the patients’ symptoms, as well as the severity of the symptoms. Two patients relapsed, and three did not complete a long-term follow-up, which results in a 74% positive result compared to 89% without the inclusion of those who did not follow-up. Though the results have been positive, what’s even more promising is the length of time it took for individuals to heal. Before the trials, each patient had received ineffective therapy for an average of close to 20 years. MDMA-therapy, on the other hand, was able to provide long-term healing for the majority of its patients after only two sessions, over a span of two months.

About a month after John’s first MDMA dose, he was back with his feet posted up on Phil and Julane’s tripping couch. He was lying on his back, staring up at the wooden ceiling. An oil vaporizer produced steam which danced around the room gracefully. The sun shined on the particles, and when the light struck a certain way, the steam slowly curled around the therapists’ faces.

He was mesmerized by the dancing steam when a thought suddenly struck him. It was a thought that had haunted him for years, one that he had convinced himself was the truth. His lips parted open, but before he could even get a syllable out, everything stopped. Even the faintest sounds had paused. The particles in the air stood in place. Phil and Julane stopped breathing. Time was still.

John heard a voice, partially in his head but also within the room. He felt an instant sense of guilt, like a puppy that had been caught chewing a shoe. Chills went down his arms all the way down to his feet, and the voice told him, “There’s only truth in this room.”

John knew instantly that the words that were about to come out of his mouth were false. Though he spent much of his life believing them, he hadn’t been honest with himself. Because his parents were so stern, he was always in fear of punishment. Even the thought of getting in trouble was terrifying, so John learned to lie. He became such a good liar that he began to lie even to himself. The voice halted him, and everything around him, to remind him of what was true. In that moment, John began to respect his own personal truth.

John’s dishonesty was one of several uncomfortable topics that the MDMA brought forth. Relationships, financial issues, self-esteem, and other tender spots were among the others. Though normally John would have been avoidant of these topics, the MDMA allowed him to talk through them with ease.

Family life was one of the most crucial things John analyzed during his sessions. He was born when his parents were only 19, and he felt that his upbringing lacked the warm affection that he had grown to crave. When presenting unpleasant moments, the MDMA would play short movies of his life back to him, with memories drifting from as far back as the age of five.

In the midst of his tripping, John saw a memory from when he was six years old. He had been outside playing with friends when another young boy purposely hit him in the mouth with a baseball bat. His lip was bleeding, and he ran home screaming with tears running down his face. John went to look for his father, expecting him to open up for a hug, clean his face up, and feel sympathy for his son. Instead, when he saw John, he stood up and filled the room with anger. He marched toward John, and John quickly forgot all about his bloodied lip. Now he was afraid of his father. He ran out of his house, while his father chased him for three blocks until he reached the house of the boy who hit him.

“Is this the boy that did this to you?” his father asked. John nodded his head.

“Was it an accident?” John shook his head.

“Okay,” his father said. “Hit him.”

John obeyed his father and proceeded to harm the boy who had bloodied his lip. Looking back on the memory, John remembered how brutal his father’s lesson was. At the time, he had always seen his father in that way - an aggressive, strict, and hardened man. But looking back, almost 50 years later, he began to understand that this was the only way his father knew how to care for him. Though he didn’t hug and kiss John when he came home sobbing, he taught John to stand up for himself in the way that his own father had taught him growing up. John grew to be what he calls “a gentle fighter,” one who fights with his words and deeds rather than with physical actions, but he came to understand that this self-defense mechanism stemmed from his father.

After his second session, John was faced with something he hadn’t felt in years. He felt courage. The MDMA, though powerful as it was, did not reveal answers to him in the open. Ultimately, he was left to sort through his experiences on his own. The feeling of bravery had almost become unfamiliar to him, but he wanted to act on it while he could. His body was still rebelling and he hadn’t been active in years, but he thought that now he might have the power to change that. He decided to purchase a pair of running shoes.

On that day, he went to his favorite old running trail. He was only able to walk and jog about half a mile. He breathed heavily as sweat ran down his face, and he finally made it back to his car. This was nothing compared to the 13 miles he used to run, but he was exhausted. Though his entire body ached, he felt a different kind of high - a surge of adrenaline, mixed with relief and gratitude.

“It hurt like hell, but it felt like my body was thanking me.”

John’s last session with Phil and Julane was perhaps the most pivotal moment of his life. John was lying down and looked over at Phil for a quick moment. Phil was staring out of the window, with the sunlight shining on his face, illuminating the tears that were running down it. Suddenly compelled by an urgency of strength, John sat up. “Lay it on me,” he told Phil. Their roles were now reversed.

For the first time in his life, John felt competent to hold a sacred space for someone else. Phil began telling him about his son Noah, who had died at 16 of leukemia. He told John about the family’s struggle to accept Noah’s fate, and how MDMA was one of the ways in which Phil and Julane established their own resilience. Eventually, after years of arguing and answer-searching, Phil, Julane, and Noah found acceptance. They understood that Noah would be gone soon, and he was able to die free of anger and full of gratitude.

Phil talked in detail about his son’s last moments, and how those memories triggered his tears. They were a reminder of why he was with John now. They were also a reminder of the goal of these trials: to find solace and fight in the face of death.

In the last hour of John’s final session, he was overcome with anxiety. His body began to shake as MDMA’s final messages were calling him to create an entirely new life. Phil and Julane, sensing his fear and angst, placed their hands on him in the same way that they did in the very beginning of his first session. John felt their gentle touch as he breathed heavily, and their watchful presence calmed him.

He began to get visits from different entities. He didn’t see them, but sometimes he would hear them. John compares this feeling to sitting up when you’re half-asleep. You wonder if someone is in the room or if the voices you just heard were even real. Then you realize that it was all just a dream. The entities came to him as if they were an extended version of this feeling - an amplified thought. Ultimately, it was his own heart and brain talking to each other. It was time for a serious meeting.

You’re working in the wrong business, they told him.

He had spent the past eight years building up his yacht-brokering company. At times, during the peak of his illness, it was all that kept him going. But if he continued, it would end up killing him - if it hadn’t already started doing so.

He would spend six months working on a deal, just for it to end when his clients’ egos would get in the way. Their worlds revolved around petty things, and his did, too. It didn’t make sense for life to be like this, especially when he didn’t even know how much life he had left.

You’re living in the wrong place.

Sausalito is a quiet, seaside town which was ideal for John’s business. For John himself, though, it wasn’t where he needed to be. The mornings were always cold and crisp, which only hardened his body more. It was an isolated town, full of wealthy, older folks. He needed to be in the sunshine, and he needed to be around people and places that were full of vitality.

You need to work on your relationships.

During his sessions, John had seen memories from his earliest years. He was able to analyze nearly every part of his life, including a cold relationship with his parents and a toxic relationship with an ex-girlfriend. He didn’t know how, but he would have to find a way to deal with them.

Lastly, they told him, You need to help people.

Today, nearly two years after completing the trial, John lives in Venice Beach, where the weather is warm and the people are wild. He shut down his yacht-brokering business, and his body is now 90% healed. Though the objective of the therapy was not to cure illnesses, the healing powers that Alexander Shulgin raved about when he first tried MDMA have proven to unite John’s mind and body.

His life wasn’t miraculously easy after the therapy, but he gained tremendous insights and tools to work his way through the hard parts. Simply having the mental capacity to get out of bed and aim for something healed John in several ways. “I learned to make friends with my body and to remember that it had been good to me for so many years before I was diagnosed,” he says. He began to change his unhealthy sleeping habits, he strictly managed his diet, and he began to exercise daily like he once did. He started practicing yoga again, which helped to improve the elasticity of his skin, and he’s currently trained to teach aerial yoga to older clients. Eight months after he huffed and puffed down the trail after his second MDMA session, he also ran a half-marathon.

John says the integration process is like being in a helicopter, overlooking the world underneath you from a bird’s eye view. Everything is beautiful, and the feeling of ecstasy is truly living up to its name. Suddenly, you’re pushed out of the plane. When you finally hit the ground, you land on a skateboard and you’re flying down a steep hill. Maybe you’ve never even ridden a skateboard before, but you’re forced to find a way to make it down the hill alive.

As with other psychedelics, the few days after an MDMA dose often come with a dark hangover. Because the brain has been so energized and overfilled with serotonin, the come-down can be bleak. For John, these days were difficult because he had to find ways to integrate the otherworldly awareness into his daily life. However, the darkest days were also the most promising when it came to understanding his experience. “A lot of people don’t like this part of the therapy, but that’s when you really need to look inside,” he says. “You write your thoughts down, take vitamins, drink a lot of water, and try to help your brain rebuild itself.”

During his sessions, John was aware that the feelings of bliss wouldn’t last forever, but the fact that he was able to feel emotions on such a deep level made him hopeful. If it was possible to feel that good on the drug, maybe he could feel the same without it. He’s gotten pretty close, but he finds euphoria in a much simpler form now. He likes to call them snapshots - mental pictures in which he takes the time to grab a moment and absorb it into his brain. It can take form in many ways, like running on his favorite trail, or getting lunch with a good friend and sitting next to a window, smelling your food coming to you. “It’s a cliche. People always say, Oh, live in the moment! It’s really easy to say, but you have to deliberately do it. It’s just a matter of grabbing sincere appreciation of something, even if it means you have to cry your eyes out sometimes.”

John’s integration process is still a work in progress, but he’s using his journey to help others who have come out of the trials or their own psychedelic experiences. After he shut down his yacht-brokering business, he started working on a company of a much different nature. Map to Remission, a play on both medical remission and life repurposing, aims to provide a community and resources to others who have been knocked down by a life-threatening illness. John holds weekly 3-Peer sessions in which he and two or three others Skype call to talk about their integration process. The point of the sessions is not to coach or counsel each other, simply because none of them are therapists or psychiatrists. Instead, they share their own experiences and provide unwavering support.

While he’s getting his company up and running, he’s also involved in other integration circles in Los Angeles. John and his peers work to protect people from using MDMA unsafely or as an escape route. It’s not meant to be used as a way to escape our real worlds, but rather as a way to better understand them. Education is proving to be one of the most crucial steps of the legalization of MDMA-assisted therapy, and John is doing his part to share his journey. The psychedelic community continues to grow rapidly, and John’s body and mind continue to heal in return.

“It turns out that community is some of the best medicine you could ever have,” he says.

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crazylifebyme-blog1 · 5 years

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The Rollercoaster

This is my journey in life where i felt like it was the end of my life. I talk about a heavy point in my childhood that molded me to become the best person I am today. My message in this memoir is to never give up and to always be grateful for what you have.

Alex Schacter wrote a poem called “Life Is Like A Roller Coaster”. Life is crazy, one moment you are happy and then out of nowhere something tragic can happen and ruin your mood. People at one point would hit rock bottom and think it is going to stay like that.

At four years old I was introduced to soccer, which I ended up falling in love to the point some would call obsessive. I was a top player from age’s six to eight. I was in my happiest time in life just embarrassing players and being able to take my team to the finals but tragically losing them in penalty shoot outs. Even though we lost I never put my head down and quit. I loved the sport so much I trained everyday just to get better. Every time I was playing soccer I felt joy and I always had a smile on my face. It was all fun and games until a horrific September morning. I have woken up on a Sunday morning ready to start the day off. I jump out the bed and feel an abdominal tenderness on my right ankle, so I jumped back in bed with waves of pain going through my leg. I called my parents to come quickly and they noticed that it was swollen. We went to the hospital to see what was wrong. The doctors came back with the results saying that I might have a tumor there and that I should get taken to Texas Children Hospital. While I was at Texas Children, they ran many tests to check the diagnosis. After waiting on the result, the doctor walked in the room with a gloomy face, but I did not want to think of any negative ideas. The doctor said a few things about my health; “you are very healthy, overall,” he observed – but then came the tough part of his results. She said that I had Ewing Sarcoma (it is a type of cancer where it forms between the bone and muscle.) It was just my mom and I who went to the doctors that day and once I heard the news my heart dropped. I could feel my mom very broken inside when she heard it too. She started to cry because her only son got diagnosed with cancer. I did not cry at first with hearing news but I started to break down when I saw my mom’s pain. I told her everything is going to be fine. I convinced myself that nothing more than being told I had cancer was going to happen. Days later I went back to the hospital to get told more news. I met with the doctor and he started to tell me that I only had two choices for a solution dealing with my leg. My first option was to do a laser treatment that will stop the cancer, but the down side of it is that my leg would stop growing and there is a higher chance for the cancer to come back. The second option was my leg could get amputated, the cancer would go away and that there is a small percentage that the cancer could come back. Mind you that I was an eight year old getting tossed at with two huge options. I looked at my parents first so they could help me out choosing with decision seems better. My parents told me that I am the only one that has to choose it myself because it is my body. The decision with my leg can only affect me so that’s why they did not want to get involved. The doctor told us that I have a couple of days to choose, but within those minutes that I was standing thinking of those options, I imagined both sides and the only option that was best for everyone was to get my leg amputated. When I answered the question, the doctor was surprised that it was answered rapidly. Whenever I had the surgery done I was in disbelief because I did not have half of my right leg no more. My biggest worry was about me not being able to play soccer and that is when I asked the doctor if I was able to play again. They told me I would be able to play with a prosthetic leg but it would take long to be used to it. After I knew that I was able to play again I felt motivated to get back on my feet. It took me about four month to be able to run but it took me longer to be able to play soccer like I wanted to play. In my life I felt like it was over because soccer was my life back then but when I was able to play soccer again with my prosthetic leg I was grateful to God and rejoiced in life for being able to play the sport I love. Whenever I was in the sixth grade I was still working on getting better in soccer. I was struggling whenever I attempted to run because I was having pain in the stump of my amputated leg (or as I refer to it “Little Leg”). It took about two appointments for my doctors to fully help me out, so I could have been able to run. When I was at the prosthetic doctor and they gave me socks to help the with pain in the stump. The second choice I could have used is a gel that was in a circular shape which made it possible for my little leg to not make contact with my sleeve whenever I would step. I ended up using both because my leg actually felt like I was stepping on clouds. The next day I went with my dad to his job, so he could get some papers, but I was actually waiting outside for him and just trying to get better at running. On my third try I was able to run like a “normal” person, which got me very lighthearted. My dad came out of the building and I eagerly went up to him and exclaimed “watch what I am about to do”, I started up how a track star starts before they start a race and I zoomed from the other side of the parking lot and back. He was very impressed whenever I got back because that was my first sprint I did. I was not as fast for the first sprint that I did but that run gave me hope for my future. My dad was my soccer coach and i felt proud of that because i know he would give me playing time. When I first came back to my soccer team, whom I’ve played with for five years, my teammates congratulated me for beating cancer and welcomed me back. I was not able to play like how I used to play, so I did not become a starter right off the bat. I gave my all every practice like there was no tomorrow, that didn’t discourage me it only let me work harder. At the beginning I only worked out, so I could get in shape before working on perfecting my moves. After I worked hard enough that I started getting my desired goal of weight and skill levels, I got the opportunity to start on the games. In a soccer match the players from the rival team were attacking in my side of the field. They used a technique called "Tiki Taka", which means that players touch the ball one time to eachother. They passed me up thinking they left me beind but i hustled my way back to them and retrieved the ball. Whenever i got the ball it felt amazing to fly through the field with it. The chemistry my team and I had made us unstoppable that no team could beat us. Our practices were us running a couple laps, doing suicides, drills, and etc. Sometimes I remember how The best part of practice was whenever we scrimmaged because that is when we showed our true chemistry. Whenever we played eleven versus eleven, and when each team got the ball we did plays that left everyone fascinated. A man that directed a park in Katy, Texas invited my dad and the team to go play at his park because he wanted to see if my team was talented enough to do well in that league. Whenever we got to the park for our first game we saw how the fields in the park were so beautiful and green. A half of the field that was closer to the forest gave out cold wind which made it a really fantastic temperature to play. I saw one of my teammate who was really skilled at soccer play, it gave me joy because he was embarrassing opponents, but it also brought me down because i used to play like that and i wished that i had both of my legs to show others my true skill. Before i got amputated and still had both of my legs i would make players and their parents mad, they always tried to foul me because i was really fast and nobody could not really catch up to me. I wasn’t cocky in soccer because my thoughts of the beautiful game is that we play as a team. I used to make plays and help others score goals. I have also helped the opponent whenever i tried to header the ball out but I accidentally hit is backwards, which made the ball go over the goal keeper and bounced in.

In my eighth grade year, my great defending skills gave me the chance to impress the high school coach. He acknowledged that i was big and tall, so he invited me in a high school friendly game. The day of the soccer game i was really nervous because it was my chance to prove what i got and possibly secure a spot in varsity the year after that. When the game started the ball came directly to me, and that is when i froze for a second and gathered my thoughts to play my best. The opposing team was the best team in their district, which quite frankly had me on the edge. I used my body strength to stop the players and used my head to quickly start a play to score. At the end of the game the coach came up to me and told me, “I am impressed on how you play, I hope to see you in the field next year.” My heart increased rapidly whenever i heard those words, I got motivated to train harder and get better because high school soccer was a different type. Whenever I pictured high school soccer I pictured like professional players. One because the high schoolers are bigger than me and supposedly stronger. Reason two was because whenever i saw the guys play, i felt intimidated on how pristine the passes were and how fast you had to be, so you are able to catch up to the opposing players. When i told my dad that i had a big opportunity to make it varsity high school, he felt so proud of me because his son that had cancer is doing great accomplishments in his life. I asked him if he could help me train harder and try to get better with my passing and skills. In my mind i just kept playing out on how i wanted to play, which was stopping every forward. I also imagined that once i took the ball away from the player, I would take the ball and juke people from the other team and then make a play that ends up being a goal. I felt so much joy when i thought about being in varsity because it is rare that a freshman makes it to varsity. The thing that made me feel so proud of myself was that I acknowledged how I had a prosthetic leg and I gave my all to be in the position i am in. I always wanted to motivate people, and i love to see people do great in life because if one quits a thing in life then they would not be able to see the amazingness and pleasure of going through all the way. With my outside of school teammates I never let them down, I always tried to do my best and if I messed up on something then i try to fix it and learn from how I messed up. That’s how it was in the summer whenever my dad and I started to train. I kept getting frustrated with myself and I hate failing at things because it makes me feel like I’m not good enough. I had to keep reminding myself that I had time to do better and that I am able to get better and get the spot I want. I did not let anything nor anyone stop me from getting better.My head was in the game mode until try outs because i really wanted to show my coach what i had in me. I wanted to show my coach that i would not fail him. Whenever try outs came I felt confident in myself because of all the hard work i put in. Once i saw the previous varsity players an overwhelming chill came into my body and it had me thinking, “man they’re much more experienced than me.” Then when we started to scrimmage i felt like that was my time to shine. I felt like I had finally got to the point where I could show my teammates that just because I have a prosthetic leg I was going to not keep up with them. I did a couple good plays that left my coach impressed. The only reason I knew he was impressed with my playing was because I constantly lurked over to him to see if he took notes or liked how I did.

#lifestyle #life #my life #rollercoaster #i made it

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