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the-toasted-teacake · 3 years

Note

Hi, can you read the following and let me know your thoughts please? Would mean a lot. It’s my first bit of Carlando writing. Love your writing!! Also your blog too! Hope it’s not too much to ask!! It turned out to be a lot of words but once I started I couldn’t stop, thanks if you do read it!!

………………..

Two days.

That’s all he had to wait until he could see Carlos. If he’s honest with himself he hadn’t realised till now how much counting down he had done the last week whilst he’d been away with family and friends. If he’s overly honest with himself he didn’t want to acknowledge the amount of counting down done. That would be too much honesty for Lando.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t enjoyed his time away with his family and friends in Croatia and the several other places they’d travelled to on the stunning boat they’d hired for ten days, it was just that he really couldn’t wait to be in Carlos’ company again. He wouldn’t have been half as bothered about seeing Carlos again if it weren’t for the fact they’d practically spent no time together in the first half of the season.

There was no doubt about it, since Carlos had left McLaren and Daniel had came in, it hadn’t been the same. Not only because of the new atmosphere Daniel bought, but also because Lando had nowhere near seen Carlos as much as he used to. Different hotels each race weekend. No more Carlos living half an hour away in a car and definitely nowhere near as much Fifa. It hadn’t been easy. That’s where Lando drew the line at admitting how difficult it had been though because any further admittance of this made it look like he couldn’t cope and was a massive cry baby missing his old teammate far too much. If he’s overly honest again, he really hadn’t given Daniel the time of day due to still being in complete shock that Carlos had actually left McLaren. It had been a shock since day one of finding out and the shock hadn’t left his system.

Lando was a bit nervous about seeing Carlos again. He was hoping that all the unspent time together hadn’t created an awkward atmosphere between the two of them, he was sure it hadn’t, but you never know. Anyway, even if it did, they had plenty of activities to enjoy to forget about any awkwardness. Lando was flying from Greece over to the Balearic Islands where Carlos was with some of his family and friends. He felt bad that he was leaving Max and the rest of his friends in Greece but he couldn’t refuse Carlos’ offer of four nights spent together as they would be immediately separated again the week later by their hectic F1 world’s.

Just two little days to go he thought. If he could make it five whole months without properly seeing Carlos, then he could definitely last two more days.

And what a two days it was.

Lando had the best two days of the entire holiday, probably because he tried to enjoy it more due to knowing he was leaving them early. What a reward he was getting at the end of those two days as-well; four nights spent with Sainzy. How lucky he was. He could barely contain his excitement once he’d said Goodbye to Oliver and Savannah at the port. Oliver had noticed and had obviously teased him about it. “This is the most excited I’ve seen you all holiday and of course it’s as your abandoning ship to see Carlos”. Lando had just laughed in response. “Tell him I said hi and to not injure my younger brother before the second half of the season starts please” Oliver said as Lando got into the car taking him to the airport. Again, He just got a laugh in response. It was more of a scoff really as Lando knew Carlos would never put him in danger. He never had done, if anything he’d protected him at all costs.

The closer he got to landing, the more the butterflies came. He didn’t know why, but he knew they were definitely there. A few deep breaths later and he regained a little bit of composure. Nervous about seeing Carlos? No surely not. Sort your self out Norris he said to himself quietly.

The airport was busy so he made his was through it as quickly as possible. He really didn’t want to be noticed right now. Eventually he found himself in the arrivals terminal where he was expecting someone to be waiting for him as previously mentioned by Carlos over text. He couldn’t seem to find his name being held up by anyone though. Just keep walking and you’ll find it he thought. Out of nowhere a voice shouted “Landoooo”. He froze immediately. He was hearing things surely. Carlos had not came himself to the airport to get him. No way. Surely he had sent someone.

He eventually plucked up the courage to look over to where the voice came from and stopped dead in his tracks. His feet were frozen to the floor and he couldn’t move. The butterflies had well and truly taken over. It was Carlos. Carlos had came to get him from the airport. Carlos had got into a car and drove to the airport to pick him up. Why was this such a big deal to Lando? Maybe it was just the surprise of seeing him this soon after just landing on the Spanish island. Yes definitely surprised.

He hadn’t even noticed how close Carlos had gotten to him until he heard his name being shouted right at his face. “Mate are you ok?” Lando just smiled and asked him what he was doing here. Of course Carlos had replied teasing him. “What, are you not happy to see me?” Lando laughed and finally gave him a long awaited hug. Once that was out of the way, Carlos took Lando’s case and began walking towards the exit of the terminal. Lando protested “You don’t have to take that I can manage” “I know but you are my guest and I am your chauffeur so this is my job”. Fair enough Lando thought.

Once they’d got into the car and left the airport it was Lando’s turn to tease. “So Mr Sainz Jr. couldn’t wait to see me that much, that he had to collect me himself from the airport.” Carlos laughed and looked over to Lando smiling, he quietly said “I’ll admit it, I am excited to see you, but the driver cancelled last minute so here I am.” “Anyway, having me pick you up should be an honour, I am the best chauffeur about.” Lando just responded with a nod. Carlos seemed to easily be able to worm his way out of being teased, he had done it effortlessly, to the point where Lando wasn’t sure why he had bothered to tease him in the first place.

For the first time since they’d got in the car Lando looked out of the window properly, he could already see the sea in the distance and the landscape around them was stunningly breathtaking. He was sure he was going to enjoy the few nights he had here.

After a bit of small talk of how their summer breaks had gone so far they settled into a comfortable silence. Lando took this as his opportunity to check his phone. After he’d replied to a few texts and checked a few notifications he placed the phone back into his pocket. He wanted to put a story on of chauffeur Carlos, but he was sure that would overload the Carlando world. These few days were supposed to be about them two finally getting to spend time together and having fun so there was no point in advertising it to the world this early on into the trip.

Once they got nearer to Carlos’ house Lando asked “So who’s at the house then, which members of the Sainz family do I have the pleasure of spending time with?” Carlos looked at Lando with confusion and he thought maybe he’d said something wrong until Carlos responded “I thought I’d told you, it’s just us two. My mum and dad left a few days ago and my sister and her husband left yesterday.” Oh, Lando thought. He was sure Carlos hadn’t mentioned it because he was definitely not under the impression that it was purely just them two for five whole days. Wait. “What about Isa and all of your friends?” “What, you don’t want to spend time with me, you want to see everyone else but not me?” Carlos said as he laughed. Back to teasing again Lando noticed. “No it’s not that, I just didn’t know it was just us two in one big house, I saw everyone on your Instagram and presumed we’d have lots of company.” Carlos just looked at him funny “Yeah my friends were here but they’ve all left too, I thought I’d get rid of them because they all talk far too much Spanish for you.” WHAT. Carlos had gotten rid of his friends for him? Before Lando could panic too much, Carlos added “Just joking mate, they all had to go home back to their lives and Isa has some work in London so she left a couple of days ago too.” So it really was just them two, not a single other person. Lando could swear that Carlos always knew when he was panicking because he always managed to swiftly change the topic of conversation. “Anyway we’re having burgers for dinner tonight, thought I’d cook your favourite for your first night in Casa Sainz” he said with a very thick Spanish accent. And with that swift change of topic Lando didn’t have anymore time to think about it just being them two, he’d also remembered the dogs where there so at least he had someone. Even if they were animals.

Lando’s first opportunity to have some time for his own thoughts came half an hour later when Carlos had shown him to his room and excused himself to go and start dinner. Lando hadn’t seen quite as beautiful of a view before. He was lucky he had this from his balcony attached to the room Carlos had gave him, the sunset was gorgeous and he had the perfect shot from where he was to view it. Time for a quick story he thought. Once the story (without a location) was posted he unpacked his things and changed into a comfier shirt and shorts. His mind drifted off to the conversation they’d had in the car. Carlos had definitely not told him it was just them two for the five days, so why did he think that he had. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to him but it definitely was for Lando. How could he have failed to mention it. He was already worried about any awkwardness due to the lack of time spent together this year, so the news of it being just them two had caused full blown panic in his head. How would he cope. He quickly realised he may be overthinking this way too much and he didn’t want to turn into a complete mess on the fist night so he grabbed his phone and took off downstairs, that way he couldn’t give himself any more time to dwell on it.

“You like the view, yes?” Carlos asked as Lando approached him in the kitchen, Carlos held up his phone to show him that he’d seen his story. He added “Im glad you didn’t tag the location, I put a story on this morning of me lying next to my boat, so the Carlando world would, how’d you say it, go crazy wild? You know if they knew you were in the same place as me.” For the record, Lando had seen the story but Carlos didn’t need to know that. “Oh really? Good job I didn’t then, to be honest I thought the same before in the car, I wanted to post a chauffeur Carlos story whilst you were driving, but the Carlando world is not ready for that” he said as he laughed. Carlos laughed too and smiled at him acknowledging that they were both on the same page. Maybe a story in a day or two would be fine but not just yet. The world could wait for Carlando content, they’d already waited the whole of this year so what was a couple more days for the previously promised Carlando content. “As for the view, yes I love it, it’s stunning. Thanks for giving me that room and letting me stay.” Carlos smiled once more and Lando could’ve sworn the thanks had made him blush for a second. “No problemo Mr Norrisio.” “Go and set the table outside for me, dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

The two men sat and enjoyed their burgers outside under the night sky and spoke like no time had passed at all since Carlos had left for Ferrari. They didn’t even have to discuss racing to fill any awkward silences. Carlos had even persuaded Lando to have a few glasses of wine with him. It wasn’t often Lando drunk, but he was on his holidays and he was with Carlos so why not he’d thought. Maybe it was the warm air or maybe it was the wine but Lando started to notice Carlos’ gazing eyes more and more throughout the evening. Carlos was practically staring at him. Eventually he’d had enough of it and plucked up the courage to say “why do you keep looking at me like that?” Gulp. Had he really just said that, why did he say that. Oh dear. He had no clue why he had just out right asked that. No more wine for him. To his surprise, carlos didn’t even hesitate to answer. “Sorry, I just noticed for the first time how much you’ve grown. You’ve seriously changed...Not a little boy no more si?” The smile on Carlos’ face was accompanied with another blush, and it was noticed by Lando for the second time that night. Lando laughed and posed with his muscles by his head. He was no body builder but he had been working hard to build muscle. He was tired of being the small one on the grid so him and Jon had been working on bulking for quite a while now. Carlos laughed in response to the pose, “You’ll get there mate, not there yet, but you’ll get there.”

Once they’d finished dinner Carlos had sleepily asked Lando If he wanted to watch a film before they settled for the night, Lando of course had said yes, he couldn’t wait for another movie night with Carlos. This would be their first movie night since Austria 6 weeks ago. He felt lucky to even have that, Carlos had been so busy this season that their movie night in Austria had been there only one this year. Their movie nights always consisted of great films and great banter, it was usually films Lando had never seen before that also happened to be Carlos’ favourites. He wondered what they’d end up watching tonight. “We’ll watch shawshank redemption tonight, ok?” “Yes sure. Never seen it so should be interesting.” “Landooo I don’t understand how you never seen any films, do you live under a rock, yes?” Lando laughed at how he’d said his name, god he’d missed that. Gulp. No don’t admit that. Moving quickly on from that. “I never have time, too busy beating your ass on the simulator.” He wasn’t wrong. Carlos laughed and said “ahhh yes true, but you will never beat me in FIFA.” More laughter was the reply.

They settled into the film. Lando was sat down comfily with his back pressed up to the enormous couch pillow behind with his feet up on the coffee table in front of them, Carlos in the exact same position next to him. Lando grabbed a pillow to hold as he felt he needed something to cling onto for comfort. About half way through the film, Lando noticed Carlos was getting sleepy as he was slouching and leaning into the couch more and more, must be the wine he thought. Why was he not feeling sleepy also though? Maybe because his mind was on overdrive about the FACT that it was just them TWO. Up until this moment he hadn’t given himself time to actually think about it. FIVE whole days with Carlos, he couldn’t believe it to be honest. If someone had told him a month ago this would be the case, he would have laughed at them and told them to stop chatting nonsense.

As if he’d noticed Lando’s panicking, Carlos shot over a look at him, and whispered “are you enjoying the film?” “Yes it’s good, your getting tired though so it’s ok if you want to settle down for the night.” “How do you know I’m getting tired, huh? Are you a reader of the mind?” He poked him in the ribs as he said that and made Lando jump a bit from the unexpected feeling in his ribs. Lando couldn’t help but laugh at him, he knew he was tired yet he didn’t want to admit it to him because he had 100% noticed that Lando was not tired, it was cute really. Carlos was cute. Gulp. Best not to think on that too much. Gaining some composure after being poked in the ribs, he thought about saying let’s just finish watching the film but he settled on “Carlos, you are obviously tired you’ve got that sleepy look and I don’t want to keep you awake any longer than you need to be, come on, lets just finish the film tomorrow, we have plenty of time over the next few days to finish watching it.” “Huh, sleepy look ai? What does the ‘sleepy look’ look like?” He responds whilst continuing to poke Lando some more. Ok Lando thought, he wants to play poke wars. We’ll see about that, Lando pulled a funny face and poked him back “You go all slouchy like this” as he slid himself down the couch and then said “and your eyes go like this” as he flickered his eyes open and shut. Carlos was laughing loud now at the sight in front of him. The wine had definitely encouraged the silliness from the two grown men who were supposed to be watching quite an emotional and serious film. However, the film was long forgotten about at this point.

The poking continued as did the laughter for at least another 5 minutes. In fact you could argue that they were full blown play fighting now. 2 adult men play fighting. From a distance if you were viewing this sight of them, you would think there was more in this than two friends play fighting. They grabbed each other so harshly that knuckles were white. Also the looks they gave each other were way too intense, Lando wondered if they’d be able to do this if Isa were here, maybe it was best she wasn’t. That’s what made him stop immediately. He let go of Carlos immediately which must have been unexpected as Carlos literally fell on top of him with a small thud. A short-lived silence fell amongst the two of them. Carlos spoke first. “Ouch, why’d you stop?” He gazed down at Lando without moving almost like he was frozen on top of him. Lando hadn’t a clue what to say back, he was stuck gazing back at him, also frozen. After what felt like an eternity of staring into his eyes, he finally spoke. “Ha ha, sorry. Figured you were gonna win anyway so I gave up.” Cool as a cucumber. Played that smoothly Norris. He thought he’d deflected really well from the real reason he’d stopped. But why was Carlos not moving off of him. Lando really thought he’d move any second now or more hoping he would because his stare was becoming unbearable, what was going on? Was something wrong? They’d finished play fighting what felt like an eternity ago so usually Carlos would well be off of him by now. But here he was, flat out on top of him, gazing down at his face literally centimetres away from him.

“God I’ve missed this.”

WHAT.

Where had that come from?! Lando just opened his mouth forming an o shape. The shock took over and he was sure Carlos was looking back at him wondering what on earth was he thinking. They were both so still, not a single bit of movement at all. They were so close that it looked like they’d been moulded together like a sculpture. This was probably the longest look they’d ever given each other. Neither knew what to say. Carlos looked surprised he’d said it. Lando looked surprised he’d heard it. He had to say something. The silence couldn’t continue. The first thing he could think of. Quick. “I’ve missed this too.” SHIT. WHAT. No. What had he done. What a stupid thing to say. Carlos was smiling now. Gulp. That smile was everything.

Without another second passing Carlos decided he had to make a joke out of this, it had become too intense between the pair of them so some light hearted humour was needed. “Awww mate that was sooo cute” the exaggeration of the words so and cute was very much needed. Carlos finally climbed off of him. Lando shuddered from the coldness he felt without Carlos on top of him. If he’s completely honest he didn’t want him to get off of him. He didn’t mind it. But surely that was crossing a line. Yes definitely crossing a line. Lando sat up straight almost immediately dismissing the thought, he had to go to bed. Carlos definitely had to go to bed. That gave him a thought of how to make a joke out of this. “Awww there’s that sleepy voice, told you that your sleepy.” Carlos looked down at him (as he was now standing) almost in disbelief that he’d managed to gain the upper hand. This boy had gotten braver than he used to be, it was true, Lando had changed and Carlos had definitely noticed it. He had especially noticed it today. Having the one on one time with him had made sure of that. Not only had Lando physically changed but he’d grown way more confident. If Carlos was completely honest with himself it made him feel a bit sad, his little friend was not so little anymore and perhaps he maybe did not need him as much as he used too. Had anyone of asked though, he would never admit to this making him sad.

Lando got up from the couch and placed the pillow that had fell on the floor during their play fight back on the couch neatly. He turned back round to Carlos and wished him goodnight, a quick hug and he was out of there. Practically running up the stairs to his bedroom. Leaving Carlos stood there all alone to think about what had just unfolded amongst the two of them. He hadn’t quite meant to let slip he’d missed them play fighting or whatever it was they did. And he definitely had not meant to express it the way he had done to his younger friend. But truth be told, he really had missed him. And having him back here now in his house had got him so excited he just had to tell him. Of course he did. It’s not like he regretted it but he could see the complete shock in Lando’s eyes once he had.

As Carlos tidied the living room he thought about Lando’s response. First the shock and then the silence and then finally…he missed it too! Even if he knew he had said it in a panic it still meant something. He could tell it was said in a panic because Lando never admitted anything. Especially not missing him, it had even become a joke in their press conferences last year. The joke was how much Lando did not want to admit he would miss Carlos. You could not get him to say it to anyone. But he did. And that made Carlos very happy, probably more happy than it should. Once he’d finished tidying the living room he turned off the lights and walked up the stairs. He thought about knocking on Lando’s door just to say another goodnight and check if he needed anything as he had run off rather quickly. But he decided against it. He knew not to bother Lando when he ran away, and he didn’t want to make things awkward, that was the last thing either of them needed. Once he got to his room he quickly checked his phone. A message from one of his friends thanking him for the week away showed up and that made Carlos beam, he was so happy he was able to share his house with his friends. It had been such a good week with them all. Once he’d replied to that he saw another message pop up. It was Isa. Shit. He hadn’t text her all day. Hadn’t even thought about it. He’d been too busy getting the house ready for Lando and buying dinner to cook for him. He was sure she’d be a bit annoyed he hadn’t messaged to ask how London was. And as he read the message this thought was confirmed. It read ‘Hi, haven’t heard off you all day? Everything ok? London’s as rainy as usual, missing the Spanish weather!’ Yep she definitely had noted that he hadn’t text her. Nor had he text her back. He only just realised that her message was sent 4 hours ago. Shit. Before he had time to start replying he heard a noise out in the hall. He looked towards the door. Someone was definitely moving out on the hall. It must be Lando, maybe he wants to talk about what happened, probably not. He got up to go and have a look and sure enough he opened the door to find Lando standing in the middle of the hall looking confused.

Lando was just about to close his eyes and try and get some sleep when he realised he hadn’t set an alarm for the morning. Nor did he know what time to set the alarm for the morning. He’d just ran out of the living room as quick as possible and now he needed to go and find Carlos to ask what time he needed him up for in the morning. They were going running together and he knew Carlos liked his early morning runs. Oh god, 1) why did he agree to the run and 2) why would he not just ask Carlos downstairs instead of running off. Because now he had to see him again right after that incident (if you could even call it that) had happened. Without a second to think he quickly climbed out of bed and walked out into the hall, suddenly realising he hadn’t put a shirt on so was just in his boxers and he didn’t actually know which room was Carlos’. Right at the moment he heard a door open. Shit. It had scared him slightly in the dark. He glanced over to the door to find Carlos looking at him confused. “Uhh hey, sorry I realised I never knew which one was your room when I came to find you.” Carlos was even more confused now, why was Lando trying to find him and why did he practically have no clothes on. Lando looked very awkwardly over to Carlos noticing the look Carlos had give his body and said “sorry yeah I just forgot to put some shorts and a top on. I’d gone to bed so had took them off”. God he was rambling he knew he was but he couldn’t be stopped. “Sorry err did I wake you up?” Before he could ramble some more Carlos suddenly walked out into the hall to join him, so he could see him better. “Well thank god you weren’t sleeping in your buff.” The laughter from Lando echoed through the small hallway they were standing in. If it’s one thing carlos was good at, it was breaking the ice. The joke had immediately removed any possible awkward atmosphere between them. Carlos spoke softly “this is my room” motioning for Lando to follow him as he stepped back into his room.

If Lando had thought the view from his balcony was incredible. Well, the view from Carlos’ balcony was unbelievable. It was beautiful. He was immediately drawn to it and had walked straight over to the window. At night time it was so pretty, he imagined how pretty it must have been in the day also. Carlos noticed Lando looking at his balcony and smiled. “Here, come look outside.” He opened the door and motioned for him to follow him again. As they both stepped out onto the balcony the stars above them shone so clearly that both of them couldn’t help but look up. It was the clearest night sky that Lando had ever seen, it was filled with stars and a moon that was so clear it looked like it was right by them. The lighting of the town centre could be seen as could the port where Carlos’ boats floated quietly on the sea water. You could pretty much see the entire island, it was so calming to Lando. He had never felt peace quite like it before. The way they both just appreciated the view and enjoyed the silence made it even more peaceful. Lando stood in just his boxers on Carlos’ balcony really should have been awkward. But it wasn’t. Thank god for the view.

“It’s really beautiful isn’t it” Lando couldn’t help but say. “The island?” “Yes the island but the view of the island from this balcony is incredible, especially with it being night time, look at the sky, it’s like a photograph hung up on a wall but your looking right at it in real life.” Carlos couldn’t help but smile at Lando’s words. It had been quite some time since Carlos had seen Lando so happy by something that he had been able to show him, he used to be able to show him new stuff and make happy all of the time, but that was rare these days. So Carlos was thoroughly enjoying this. Lando had noticed Carlos smiling at him and suddenly felt a bit self conscious. Also a bit chilly. After all, it wasn’t sunny anymore and he was literally just in his boxers and nothing else. “Do you wanna maybe finish watching the rest of the film in here” Carlos suddenly asked as he pointed back to inside his bedroom. Lando wasn’t expecting that. Lando hadn’t expected any of this to be honest. Never the less, yes, yes he wanted to spend more time with Carlos. “Yeah sure.”

The two settled on to the bed and Carlos put the film on where they were up to. Lando actually did want to know how the film ended. Not long into the peacefulness of them both being engrossed with the film he realised he hadn’t actually asked Carlos what he’d needed to ask him, he’d gotten so distracted with Carlos scaring him in the hall and then the view from his balcony that setting an alarm for the morning had been completely forgotten about. He chuckled. Carlos heard the chuckle and looked over at him confused once again. It was definitely not a funny part in the film so why was Lando chuckling. “Sorry, I err, wait, pause the film a second so we don’t miss any.” Carlos picked the remote up and paused the film almost immediately. “I just realised I hadn’t actually asked you what I meant to when I came looking for you before when you found me in the hall.” “Ohh yes, did you need something?” “No, I just remembered that you wanted to go for a run in the morning and I needed to set my alarm, because I know you like early morning runs and I will definitely not wake up early. But I didn’t know what time to set it for.” Carlos smiled. It was adorable that Lando had remembered at all that Carlos wanted to go for a run. He had asked him hours ago before they’d drank the amount of wine they did. “Don’t worry, we are on holiday. Let’s not set any alarms. We will go for a run once we are both awake.” A wasted trip Lando had took into the hall then. Maybe not though, because he had got to see the most amazing view ever and now he was in Carlos’ bed enjoying the rest of the film. That made him happy and for just this once he’s ok with admitting that to himself. As if Carlos knew what he was thinking he smiled at him. Lando smiled back. The smile between them was sweet. Too sweet really. But neither man cared at this point. They were both too sleepy and too happy. To hell with a smile being too sweet mattering right now.

Carlos put the film back on and they both became engrossed once more. Lando was getting way too comfy in Carlos’ bed and was starting to drift off. He felt himself get sleepier and sleepier but he was far too tired to move. This resulted in Carlos finding his friend fast asleep next to him at the end of the film. As if he’d missed the end of the film, it was the best part. Carlos made a mental note to make him re watch the end of the film tomorrow. In the mean time, he needed to sleep himself. He turned off the tv and then his bedside light and settled further under the duvet. He looked over to Lando and whispered “good night, sleep tight.” God he hated to admit it but Lando did look cute whilst he slept. Carlos hadn’t ever seen him in such a deep sleep so close to him before. This suddenly made him panic about sharing a bed to sleep in, it was a first for the two of them to actually fall asleep in a bed together. After some thought about whether he should let Lando sleep alone in his bed he decided on did it really matter if the two of them slept next to each other. They were both shattered. So it really did not matter at this point. It didn’t take long before both of them were fast asleep dreaming peacefully. The moon and stars glimmered through the window as the room became silent.

Anon, first of all: thank you so, so much for sharing your writing with me! 🧡 I've already told you how much I enjoyed reading this, but I just want to reiterate that I love how you well captured the dynamic between Carlos and Lando, and that you had me completely hooked! This afternoon, I still keep thinking about the scene where they wrestle on the sofa and THAT LINE (“God I’ve missed this.”) because it's packs such a punch!

I really hope you do feel encouraged to write more Carlando, because you have a real way with these characters. I am smiling so much after reading this, and I'm sure others will enjoy it as much as I did 😍

So, with Anon's blessing, I'm sharing this publicly so you guys can also enjoy this absolute gem of a Carlando fic! 🧡

#thank you anon!#anon's amazing fic #fic rec

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fkingsteverogers · 3 years

Text

Tell Me We’ll Be Just Fine

A/N: A couple points: 1) I made a new blog for these writings to make them easier to find 2) I have a tag list! lmk if you want to be added to it 3) For my non US babes and others, your third amendment rights say you can’t be forced to house soldiers. Long Story Short

Contains TFATWS Episode 5 spoilers

****

With John Walker being Honorably Discharged after an International Incident, you’re stuck under house arrest. (The United States Government would tell you house arrest is too strong of a word, it’s simply Strongly Advised you stay in your apartment.) You want to scream from the rooftops that you had nothing to do with him, that it was all an act, but you’re being Strongly Advised, so that’s not an option. You hope, wherever he is, Bucky is having a better time than you are.

Five Days; Eastern Europe:

Bucky is not having a good time. They’re in a country where everyone wants them dead, holed up in a shitty motel and all he can think of is the absolutely devastated look on your face when he walked out the door. It makes him brood.

“You have to talk about her sometime.”

“Who?”

“Whoever makes you frown like that.”

“‘M not frowning. What do you know about it anyway? You’re single.” So maybe he was being an ass about it. You were so far away, probably cuddled up with John or Steve, and he was here, sitting in a motel room with Sam. John Walker was probably feeling you up right now, running his hand over those beautiful thighs of yours as you kissed him, making soft little noises--he clenches his fist so hard he breaks the bowl he’d been holding, splattering rice and beans all over the floor cracked tile floor.

“Yo, man, what the fuck?!”

Day One; New York City:

Steve’s allowed to visit, because of course he is. He flashes some badge and the guards (who are Strongly Advising you), stand down. “Why are you here, Stevie?” And you hate that you still call him Stevie. Stevie is what you called him on the quiet nights when you two were alone and he was still yours. Steve gives you his sad smile and you want to fall into his arms, to sob into his chest and tell him how you fucked it all up. You don’t.

“Just go, Stevie.”

Four Days; Eastern Europe:

Sam goes to do some surveillance, announcing that he “couldn’t deal with this shit,” leaving Bucky alone in the shitty room they were sharing. Before he’d been deployed, he would’ve spent an afternoon alone in a hotel curled up with a pretty girl or a handsome boy. During the war, he’d spend a quiet day catching up on some sleep or rereading a well loved copy of The Hobbit. During his Hydra days (which he hated thinking about but also couldn’t stop thinking about), there really weren’t days off. There were days where he killed and days where he didn’t. Since then, he’d spent most of his days off trying to remember how to be a human.

You had made those days feel like living again. And now you were John’s girl, dressed all pretty up for him and everything. Bucky’d been fucking stupid to think you’d want someone like him, someone damaged, someone with blood on his hands. You were good and soft and pretty. You spoke four languages and had probably read every book ever written.

You’d been good enough for Steve.

He breaks another bowl and has to lay down after.

Day Three; New York City:

You glare down the solider that’s sitting in your kitchen, eating a sandwich. “This is violating my Third Amendment Rights, you know.”

The smug bastard grins and keeps eating his sandwich.

Two Days; Louisiana:

“That shield’s the closest thing I’ve got left to a family, so when you retired it, I felt like I had nothing left.”

The mission had gone down as well as any of their missions go, they’d been shot at, gotten out by the skin of their teeth. Sam left to go back home as soon as he could, Bucky followed. Where else did he have to go?

“You have her.”

He didn’t, not really.

“I don’t want to talk about her, Sam.” Bucky tosses the shield, scowling deeply.

Sam sighs, catching the shield. He turned to face his friend, were they friends?, and looked him up and down. “Yeah, you do.” So maybe Bucky does want to talk about you, about how betrayed he feels by you choosing Walker over him. The government hadn’t been powerful enough to stop some gossip magazine from publishing a spread of you and Walker, you in a little red sundress that makes you look incredible and his hand on your thigh. There’s some bullshit story about how you met and had been so enamored with him you’d asked him for coffee on the spot.

It makes Bucky physically sick with rage.

Day Four; New York City:

After four days of being Strongly Advised, you’re ready to start pulling out your hair. The news is nonstop coverage of what happened to John Walker, the green beret who had gone crazy and killed a man in a moment of grief induced rage. And to top it all off, People released a spread that makes you want to scream. The whole shoot hadn’t been your idea, some government publicist had insisted it was necessary to sell the story. In reality, it’d been five hours with John’s hands all over you, grinning like the cat that got the cream. During a break, he’d asked you about Steve, his tone suggesting something that was none of his business.

“You don’t get to talk about Steve.” John had smirked at you, running his tongue over his teeth. It clearly annoyed him, someone thinking he wasn’t good enough for something. “What about your wife, John?” A look of surprise crosses his face but it’s gone in a moment, the mask he wears to keep people out back in place.

“Olivia isn’t part of the deal. I thought we could be friends,” he spits the word out like it’s dirty, “but clearly you’re not interested in that, clearly you’re interested in--”

“Be careful how you finish that sentence, John.” Your voice is low, betraying the landmine he’s almost stepped on. Given the chance, you’d stab John Walker in his pretty face. Decades in prison means nothing when the love of your life abandoned you and the man you thought you could count on ran out. (So maybe you were thinking about Bucky, it doesn’t actually matter.)

Bucky had been a solid presence in a sea of uncertainty. He’d made you feel safe and okay. After Steve’s departure and the death of Tony, the only member of your family left, solid and safety had been in short supply. He’d showed up, ate his cold beans in silence in the kitchen, and hadn’t left. He’d made you laugh in a way you hadn’t in months. You’d developed a routine, Bucky would wake up before you and boil water for tea, you’d stumble out and cook something to serve as breakfast, and you’d both go about your days. In the evenings, you’d come together, talk about the stupid shit that had happened during the day, watch a movie on Friday nights, and go to bed. It was nice to have a routine, something and someone you could depend on.

The nights had been quiet since he left.

Twelve Hours; New York City:

Bucky’s plane lands and he breathes a sigh of relief.

It’s raining when he steps out of the airport, a down pour by anyone’s standards. Fine by him, less people to avoid. He manages to make it to the little coffee shop outside your apartment without getting too soaked. Going up there wasn’t an option, not when you were probably angry with him for running out. So he sits, drinks endless cups of coffee and watches.

“She takes it two creams, no sugar, if you want to bring it up to her.” Bucky turns and finds himself face to face with Steve. His friend looks old, but happy, at peace even. There’s so much he wants to say, he wants to ask Steve why he left, what he thought about Walker. He wants to punch him or throttle him or hug him. Bucky wants a long fucking hug.

“I don’t think she wants to see me, punk.” Steve sits, shaking his head.

“I didn’t think she wanted to see me, either. Sometimes she doesn’t know what’s good for her..”

Before Bucky can reply, before he can really process what Steve is saying, he gets a text from Sam and he’s off to save the world again.

Day Five; New York City:

Because the universe hates you, you can’t even use your phone to entertain yourself. Someone leaked your personal number and it hadn’t stopped ringing since. And, since the internet has no nuance, they’re mostly death threats. You’re reading a book when the guards who are Strongly Advising you abandon their posts. There’s something going on, something that no one bothers to inform you about.

You go back to reading your book. Hopefully Bucky’s not being thrown through a wall.

Thirty Minutes; New York City:

Bucky gets thrown through a wall.

It fucking hurts and he’s dizzy after. Like can’t-walk-straight-am-I-actually-drunk-dizzy. Sam, the useless bastard, loads him into a taxi, tells him he’ll be fine, and gives the driver your address. Bucky’s dimly aware of this fact, aware of the fact that this poor man is driving him, a bleeding super solider, to the one place he wanted to be but wasn’t welcome.

Two Minutes; New York City:

The guards aren’t back by the time the downstairs buzzer starts ringing incessantly. You’re in the middle of your book, right at the moment where the head-strong damsel and the Lord she hated are about to kiss. You try to ignore it, With a groan, you stomp down to the doors.

Standing there, half supported by Vasily, the Russian cabbie (who is definitely into some shady business), is Bucky.

Now; New York City:

You thank Vasily, telling him you’ll pay for the cab when you see him on Friday for Shabbat, and take the bleeding Bucky into your arms. Bucky mumbles something, clearly speaking Russian but too lowly for you to actually understand. Vasily glares at him, muttering curses as he stalks away.

Dragging Bucky up to your sixth floor apartment means sharing a run in with Daisy Mae, your elderly neighbor who’s 90% blind and enjoys loitering in the elevator. She seems to take offense to Bucky mumbling Russian children’s songs to himself.

“Speak English dear, not Communism. We’re in the United States.”

“Mind the business that pays you, Daisy Mae.”

She hmphs, but doesn’t say anything else. Bucky, for his part, gives a rousing performance of the Russian alphabet. Finally, you get Bucky into your apartment and unceremoniously drop him on your couch.

It’s not long before he falls asleep, leaving you to stare at him for hours, wondering just what he’s going to say when he wakes up.

When he does wake up, it’s to the scent of your soap, sweet watermelon that always leaves an aching in the pit of his stomach. Waking up on your couch, smelling your soap, and listening to you cook feels like a dream. How many times had he thought about this exact moment while he was with Sam? Soon enough you’d turn the corner from the kitchenette and smile at him, that beautiful smile that never failed to make him feel a little dizzy.

And then he’d wake up in a shitty hotel room, listening to Sam take a shit through the paper thin walls.

He waits, but when you appear, you’re frowning anxiously. And God, you’re so fucking beautiful. You’re wearing a pair of tiny sleep shorts that expose your long legs to his greedy eyes. Your hair is pushed back off your face, exposing the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen.

Steve was a lucky man, to be able to love you. Maybe one day he’ll find a woman like you to love, if he’s lucky. Has he ever been lucky?

Bucky looks confused when you appear holding tea. “Hi.” He doesn’t say anything back, just frowns back. Your mind races, realizing he probably doesn’t want to see you, that he was dropped off here by some well meaning friend, and he was going to get up and walk out the door again.

“At least let me clean you up before you go.” Bucky nods wordlessly, looking like he’s still a little stunned. He takes a seat at the kitchen table as you pull down the first aid kit you’d put together when Steve was still here. There’s a cut above his eyebrow that’s still oozing a little blood. It’s in such a place you have to situate yourself between his legs in order to get to it.

It’s quiet while you work, Bucky’s never been a man of many words and now he’s probably trying to figure out how to tell you you’re never going to see him again. As soon as he’s cleaned up well enough that you’re satisfied he won’t die sitting at your kitchen table, you step away to admire your handy work. Bucky’s left hand, his metal hand, catches your wrist and pulls you back to him. It holds you there while his right hand comes up to cup your face, running a thumb over your cheekbone.

“You’re so beautiful.”

He’s not sure what possesses him when he pulls you back into him. All he knows is if he doesn’t get you close, if he doesn’t tell you how fucking beautiful you are, he won’t be able to breathe. You make a little noise of exasperation, your gorgeous lips parting. “I mean it.” “Bucky…” You try to pull away but he holds you there, studying every inch of your face and committing it to memory. There’s an electricity between the two of you, it feels like the air is charged enough to light that stupid snail lamp you’d bought from Arrow or whatever that store you loved was called. “Bucky…” You repeat, your voice softer, in a tone he can’t quite describe

Before either of you can move or say anything else, the door swings open to reveal Sam and Torres, flanked by three soldiers. None of them take notice of what feels like a very compromising position.

“Oh good, you’re here, Sargent Barnes. You're all being moved to a safe house. Pack enough for an indeterminate amount of time.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #tfatws #tfatws x reader #tfatws imagine #I hope ya'll like this one as much as the other one!!#these idiots don't realize they're in love and I HATE it #I have all kinds of plans and I'm so excited for this to become a series #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #ls!reader #Sara writes

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prose-for-hire · 4 years

Text

Dancing in the moonlight

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: Hey! I recently discovered your blog and really enjoy your writing~ I've been having major Spike feels lately so I was wondering if I could request something for him? Maybe the reader is human and not related to the Scooby gang at all and just meets Spike through pure coincidence. She doesn't know about Vampires and anything supernatural and starts dating him but one day gets attacked and badly injured and he gets really protective? Thank you so much!

Warning: violence. Blood mention.

Requested by: Anon

A/N: I know you said human, and the reader is for the majority of the fic. Eventual demon (werewolf) reader.

Ever since you met Spike that evening in the parking lot, you had been near-inseparable. You had been clutching some books and papers in your hands and he had offered to carry them for you. You had almost found yourself blushing – if that was something you did so easily. Everything on your mind completely erased as the incredibly attractive man before you smirked his way over to your car and passed your books back.

He didn’t know why, but he knew he needed to talk to you. Quickly noting he wanted to become close to you. He was drawn to you and he soon realised you had no clue about demons, vampires or even the Hellmouth you were living on. Hell to you was long hours at work and getting cut off on the road while you were driving.

Your friendship grew and blossomed into a relationship, he was extremely protective and you liked this – you just weren’t aware why he was so protective. He had slipped mace into your bag more than once and he had made sure to sign you up for a self-defence class after you couldn’t stop giggling when he tried to instruct you himself.

One day after dark, your car was in the shop and Spike was old fashioned, he hadn’t yet been dragged into present day, despite your claim that you would one day convince him to so he didn’t carry a cell. This meant that you decided to walk home.

You made several mistakes that night.

Mistake number one: Was letting your own cell die and being half-way between Sunnydale and the back-of-beyond little car shop that did good prices and had friendly people working there. You were loyal to places like that but it meant you were caught out walking home. You were trying to find a payphone but it appeared there were now none. Spike would be worrying, he hated when you were out alone after dark. He was so protective and caring, but thankfully not smothering. You still weren’t sure why he cared about the dark so much, but you loved the way he would walk you places.

Mistake number two: was that despite your wanting to return to Spike’s arms soon, you had been dawdling, not picking up the pace, way after midnight, on a full moon. In fact, you had been strolling, enjoying the moonlight and the way the cool breeze caressed your face. You weren’t sure why but you had been transfixed by the moon that night. It was as if it were calling to you, whispering sweet nothings to pull you in. As if you were finally seeing it for the first time.

You all but skipped down the abandoned streets, a pleasantly deserted walk home to you. But, to anyone in the know, it was eerily quiet. The time of deafening quiet that begged for a scream to interrupt the creeping fear it brought. You took a turn straight into a large dog. He was a lot larger than a dog you had encountered before, his teeth were baring and he appeared to be wild. But it was in your nature to befriend animals and so you didn’t think twice about this hideously over-sized dog that sat quietly waiting for you under the full moon.

And that’s how we come to mistake number three: you trying to pet the grey (were)wolf rather than fight it. Your first instinct, rather than a good old roundhouse kick, was to slowly walk up to the wolf and let it smell your hand before you tried to pet it. But instead of soft fur, as you had been expecting to feel, you had the animal’s jaw wrapped around your hand. His canines ripping into your flesh and making you scream out. You were staring in horror as thick blood dripped up your arm and down the wolf’s chin. You started to struggle but his jaw had locked and your eyes were watering. Your voice had now stopped screaming, no noise was coming from your mouth as your eyes stayed connected with the wolf’s. His eyes looked almost… human.

Spike also made a mistake that night, it had been to not swing by your house and check if you wanted to spend the evening together instead. He had had a bad feeling and now it had proved right. It was a mistake he would be mad at himself for, after he directed this anger at the wolf that now had a taste for your blood.

He had been looking for a demon to fight, knowing you were doing something this evening so he took his chance. He hadn’t found a way to explain about demons – it just never felt like the right time. Plus, there was always the potential for you to become frightened and never want to see him again. But apparently now, was the right time. He was going to have to explain it all.

He had run in your direction when he heard a scream, and then he smelt the intoxicating aroma of your blood. It was sticky and sweet, just as he remembered it. He had smelled that the first time he had met you and he’d often fantasised about the way you would taste. You had a papercut that night – you had met after you had been walking home from the library, books in hand and some files. You had wanted to look into the history of ‘Sunnydale’ you had a strange feeling that nothing was what it seemed, but everything checked out and after you had met Spike you had forgotten completely about the strange feeling.

When he rounded the corner, his eyes widened and without missing a beat, he ran at the wolf and tackled it. It’s jaw releasing your hand as he punched it’s torso to disarm it. He kicked it away whilst it snapped its jaw angrily before retreating. Your knees buckled due to the pain and when the wolf scampered away, Spike ran over to you and inspected your injury. He was mad, a perfect bite mark was weeping hot red liquid as your face contorted in pain.

Spike’s jaw tensed, he ripped some material from his t-shirt, creating a tourniquet for your wound that he carefully wrapped around the deep bitemark on your hand. He stroked your head softly, trying to show you it would be okay but you were becoming a little lethargic.

“If that ugly mutt comes back, I’ll bloody rip-” but he wasn’t able to finished the sentence he was muttering through gritted teeth as the wolf rounded the corner again. It could smell your blood still and so it had circled back despite the threat from Spike. You were started to become more than a little woozy from the bite that had now bled through the material. Too much blood for a normal animal bite.

Spike told you to stay there, running at the wolf and throwing some punches as he went. The fight was ferocious and your eyesight was becoming a little fuzzy. You heard him taunting, shouting with a torrent of insults as he took care of the animal that was desperate to take another chunk out of you.

he was fighting in a way that was almost primal, his face appeared to change in and out of human, but that could be your weakening eyesight.

Suddenly the threat stopped. The cacophony of snarling ceasing and all you could hear were Spike’s footsteps towards you as your eyesight tried to focus on what was in front of you. You were bleeding a lot, the bite was a lot deeper than you had thought. In fact, spike was concerned it was something else entirely making you bleed so much.

He scooped you up, explaining his movements clearly as he started to carry you bridal-style. You lean into the comforting touch, his tenderness so different from the way he had been a moment ago. He wanted you to be safe and he wasn’t sure how to explain what had just happened.

“Thank God you were here” You murmured, wrapping an uninjured arm around him from where he was supporting you through the streets, “Never seen such a big husky” You muttered, which made him frown. He would have thought you would say something, question it. That was, without a doubt a werewolf. You usually asked a bunch of questions, but it may be the blood loss talking tonight.

“Nothin’ like a dance in the moonlight, pet” he winked trying to keep things light, but his brow furrowed as you winced and looked at your hand as you clutched your side with the good hand. You weren’t feeling good. Spike hauled you over the threshold and laid you in bed. He patched you up the best he could and held you close in bed. His bravado never slipped, his throwaway comments designed to make you feel better, but he was worried. He had a hunch about what may be coming.

The next night, the last night of the full moon was a time when your mistakes all formed to maintain your destiny. A destiny you had no time to prepare for. Spike stayed over, knowing what may happen. And sure enough, when the moon rose, your change started to happen. He tried to help you through it, but you threw him off you once you had changed into a wolf. He knew it was time to tell you about the demons of Sunnydale, that is if he could protect you and hold Buffy and the others off from slaying you before dawn.

#spike x reader #spike x you #spike imagine #spike btvs #werewolf reader #werewolf x vampire #btvs imagine #btvs x you #btvs x reader #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #oblivious reader #gender neutral #gender neutral reader

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coloraturadiva · 4 years

Text

A mistake - Chapter 2

Pairing: Napoleon Solo x F!Reader (You)

Summary: Napoleon comes home and finds a surprise

Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Warnings: angst, pregnancy (I’m sure I forgot something...)

Word Count: 1551

A/N: a special thank you to my lovely beta @iloveyouyen ! The third and last chapter of this story has already been written so don’t worry, you’ll get to read how it ends 😉

Disclaimer: a strict work of fiction, I own nothing except the original characters and the plot line. In no way am I affiliated to any of it.

Feedback, reblogs and constructive criticism are appreciated!

Please don't post any of my content anywhere else without my permission. Comments and reblogs welcome!

Tagging some people that never asked for it and others that actually did: @iloveyouyen @littlefreya @aletheladyinred @madbaddic7ed @promptandpros @mrsaugustwalker @jencanbeyouryengeralt @radaofrivia @henrythickcavill @ladyreapermc @mary-ann84 @onlyhenrys @qualitynightkoala @eefjedegraaf @summersong69 @minillamakeup-blog @ladyreapermc

If you want to be tagged in the next chapter, please ask me!

You were walking home after work on a rainy afternoon, one of your hands resting protectively on your belly. You were still in distress, but you were also extremely excited to finally become a mother. You loved your little one to bits.

In your hand you were holding a bag with new clothes. 9 weeks had passed since you had talked to your grandmother and most of your clothes didn't fit you well anymore: you needed new maternity ones.

In the past weeks you talked infrequently with Napoleon: this mission was incredibly demanding, and dangerous, you imagined, and he didn't have many occasions to safely phone you without risking to compromise his work. You missed him terribly. He was trying, as always, to reassure you, but you felt from his voice that he was very tired and always on the edge. You would have given anything to have him home safe, resting in your bed. On a couple of occasions you tried to tell him about the baby, but you never had the courage to bother him during a mission. You would have preferred to talk to him face to face, but weeks passed and he never mentioned the date of his return, so you had made up your mind to tell him on the next call.

Once you set foot in your apartment, you realised that the light in the kitchen was turned on. Maybe you had forgotten it in the morning? You hung your coat by the door, placed your shopping bag on the console table and moved towards the kitchen.

“I can't believe that you are home late from work for the first time in years right on the day I come back from the longest of missions” his unmistakable voice coming from the kitchen made your blood freeze in your veins.

You entered the room and saw him standing by the sink, washing something he had likely used to prepare what was now cooking in the oven.

“My lovely lady is having fun without her man at home? Did you go shopping? Did you meet...” he turned around and stopped dead on his tracks. His eyes went to your abdomen. The light blue dress you were wearing didn't do much to conceal your growing roundness.

He stood there for what felt like hours, his mouth gaping, his eyes focused on your belly.

He had a bruise on his cheek, you noticed. And he looked pale and tired. In another situation you would have run to him, taking him in your arms and caressed his bruised cheek, but your legs weren't working and your brain was exploding. Say something Leon. Please, say something.

“What have you done?” he talked like a robot. His usually caressing voice sounded cold.

“What have WE done” you answered with a strength you didn't know you had. Maybe it was your maternal instinct talking?

He finally moved his gaze to look in your eyes. Your hands went to your belly.

His gaze was as cold and empty as his voice. He wasn't looking at you with loving eyes as he had done for years.

“We?”

“It takes two people to make a baby.”

“But you...”

“I am the one with a baby bump. Yes, it works like that. You were listening during biology hour.”

“I didn't want this.”

“I know, but it happened. Now we can...” you attempted a weak smile, moving a step in his direction.

“No!” he shouted at you. You took a step back, scared by his violent reaction. He had never ever shouted at you. “I still don't want it.”

The first tear rolled down your cheek.

“I envisaged it” you whispered, bowing your head.

“You should have told me.”

“Why? You don't want this baby. What's the difference?” your voice was trembling.

“I wouldn't have bothered coming here, seeing you like that...”

You looked up and shot a furious look at him.

“Listen my... Y/N. I overreacted and I'm sorry for that. Still, I can't be a father. I never wanted to be a father. I shouldn't be there.” He started walking towards the door, but you blocked his way.

“Napoleon, what are you doing?”

“I'm going away. I can't bear to stay here.”

“This is your house.”

“You can keep it, if you want. Or sell it, do whatever you want.”

“I don't care about the house! But us? I'm your wife...”

“You're right” he nodded. “I'll talk to my lawyer. I think we can solve this easily and with full satisfaction for both of us.”

“Leon, what are you saying? You want to blow up everything we built like that?”

“I can't stay like this.”

“So you leave me because something is not like you want it?”

“It's something really important.”

You sighed, he wasn't listening to you. He had already made up his mind.

“This is the one thing I've always been against. I never asked for much...”

“You never asked for much??? Do you have the faintest idea of what I do for you? I've been lying for you to family and friends EVERY. SINGLE. DAY about nearly anything regarding you to protect you and your job for years. Last year you were away from home 273 days. 273 DAYS. And when you come back you were deadly tired and bruised or injured. Most of the time I have no idea of where you are and when you'll be back. Or IF you'll be back. We can't go to certain places because you fear you can be recognised or I can be related to you. We are not even in the damn phone book and YOU dare to tell me that you never asked for much???”

“You knew about it all before marrying me. And you never complained.”

“Because I love you, you idiot! I endured it all for you, because I wanted to be with you despite it all.”

He bowed his head and stayed silent for a moment. You were right, you knew it.

“This just happened” you began, getting closer to him, resting your hand on his arm. “It's nobody's fault.”

“I'm not accusing you. I just saw it coming. I knew a baby would have come to separate us. We couldn't be happy together for too long.”

“It's your baby Napoleon, for God's sake!”

He looked at you like you were speaking an unknown language.

“I... I have to go”. He moved away from you and went to the front door. “I'll come tomorrow to get my things when you are at work, so I won't disturb you. I'll have my lawyer contact you for the bureaucracy. You can keep everything you want.”

He turned his back to you and opened the door.

“Leon, we can't end it like this...” you started to cry.

“I know, but there's no other way.”

“I want you.”

“You can't have me. Not like this.”

He closed the door and walked away, into the night.

You felt all your strength slip away from you. Your legs turned into jelly and you had to lean on the wall to carefully help yourself to sit on the floor.

It went exactly how you had envisioned. It was your worst nightmare taking place in real life. He couldn't even look at you. You had shared so much and now everything was gone. All ruined.

No one made a mistake. No one did anything wrong. Yet, both of you were paying the price of it.

Well, three of you. Your baby having to grow without a father will be paying as well.

This was so unfair.

You felt your heart breaking into small pieces. You literally felt it burn in your chest.

You loved him.

Despite everything, even what had just happened, you still loved him.

You curled on the floor, caressing your belly, and cried uncontrollably for hours. Your sobs were loud. Your neighbours had probably heard you from their apartment. You didn't care. You were physically hurting so much and being heard was the last one of your problems. You needed to throw out at least a bit of that pain. But it didn't work. You were just desperate to have him back, even if he was the cause of your pain. You couldn't believe that he was now your ex husband. You had hoped to spend all your life with him, fearing only the dangers provided by his job could take him away from you, but instead it was your defenceless and innocent baby to separate you. How ironic!

It should be his hands caressing your bump to soothe you, not your own. He should be here cuddling you, whispering you reassuring words, but he was gone.

The thought of not seeing him again felt like a slap on your face.

You'll have to do it all by yourself. Going through the pregnancy, giving birth, raising the baby. Alone.

You should be hating him for how he behaved, for how he treated you, for having abandoned you, but you couldn't do without loving him anyway.

Sometimes things are easier when you hate someone.

You weren't good at hating in general, and it was impossible for you to hate him.

He would still be the love of your life, despite everything.

And this hurt even more.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #napoleon solo #napoleon solo fanfic #fanfic #fan fiction #the man from uncle #napoleonxreader #napoloeonsoloxreader #napoleon solo x reader #napoleon solo x you #x you #napoleon solo xfemale!reader #writing

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strwberrytae · 3 years

Text

So Long, Farewell, and Goodbye For Now -

“I don’t know how you are so familiar to me—or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before—in another time, a different place, some other existence.” - Lang Leav

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

Hello, You ♡ Yes, You. You ethereal, beautiful being. I am writing to you with bittersweet yet wonderful news - depending on the perspective. I am writing this post to inform all of you that I will no longer be writing for this blog for the foreseeable future. What I mean by that is that I am not giving up writing forever, no. But my life has changed so much over the last two years, I do not see myself writing again for quite some time. But don’t worry! I will be back!

Below the Read More section, I have poured my heart and soul into the real reasons why I’ve made this decision. I warn you, it’s lengthy but it’s everything that has led up to this over the years. So, if you fancy, have a read. If not, I bid you farewell and wish you all the happiness in the world. Thank you for supporting me so far. I truly appreciate it and love you all very dearly. Now, if you wish to read it at a later time, I will have a link available on my page at all times for anyone who is curious. It’s a hell of a story if you ask me ~

Edit: Made by Me - also, a surprise photo at the end Warnings/Triggers: Talks of emotional abuse, depression, and suicide but also happiness and love -

When I first started this blog, it was 2016. I had been on Tumblr for over a decade now but BTS led me to writing passionately for 2 years. I was incredibly active and utterly consumed by this website. Not just for the writing, but I was so obsessed because of my friends and mutuals that I made along the way. Can I just say that I’ve met some incredible people on this platform - including my best friend and soulmate? Truthfully, the absolute best friend I have ever had. But more importantly, Tumblr was my greatest escape. I mean this website truly has been my saving grace through very dark times.

In that part of my life, I was in an extremely toxic relationship; by then, it was 6 years I was with him. He was emotionally abusive, had such a short-fuse temper, hated everyone I knew which led me never really seeing any of my friends after college, knew I was anorexic and did nothing to stop me, knew I had depression since we started dating and always argued it as if it wasn’t real, crushed my dreams and ambitions, mocked potential suicide attempts, expected me to just abandon all hope to ever leave home to explore someplace new or get a job that I actually love. He was...just the worst. Never hit me though, so I’m grateful for that. But sometimes I wish he would so it would have given me the voice I needed to get out of that relationship much sooner than I did. But regardless, because of him plus having a soul-sucking job that wore me down to the core, Tumblr was my escape. BTS was my escape.

I fell hard and I fell deep. I created a fantasy world within this world. All of my dreams, fantasies, desires, and hopes were poured into my writing. My imagination was running wild. My activity was through the roof because I was always on here day in and out, just pretending like the outside world didn’t exist. It consumed me...but I needed it. Looking back, it was pretty excessive. At the time, I seemed perfectly normal because everyone else was just as active and saying the same things and doing the same things. I felt a belonging, like I fit in.

But I hated the person I became. It took me getting yelled at, mocked, ridiculed, and belittled by my ex to snap me out of that illusion I built and back into reality. That was the roughest night that we had filled with lots of screaming on his end and crying on my part. He thought my obsession was sick. He thought it was disgusting. It all started because he found fake texts I had made with Jimin and Tae. Don’t recall the story it was a part of but he thought they were texts with the actual members… In my eyes, I should get credit for making them look so legit but he didn’t see it that way. He thought fangirling over men was essentially cheating. No matter how hard I tried to explain, he didn’t understand. But a part of his view was right. I learned that I was a bit too much into it and I really needed to take a step back from Tumblr for a while. So I did. I deactivated my account and disappeared for months. Also because he made me and threatened our relationship if I didn’t. Should have taken the out but ah well.

Just two months prior to this incident, I attempted suicide. Well, contemplated. Everything was planned out. Bought a hotel room for Thanksgiving night as I was working a super late shift until about 1-2am. My commute home was an hour long and I still had to come back to work at 7am. So I got a room. Brought a large amount of pills with me and I was going to call it. No notes written to friends, family, or loved ones. Nothing. I was done. Didn’t think anyone would miss me. I just figured the world would keep turning without me. I had thought about doing this several times before but this was my first time making plans for it. It was my lowest of the low. But then I met someone that night that changed my life entirely just in a 10 minute interaction of talking - nothing special. We’ll get to that later. But this person just gave me hope and to this day, I still can’t explain it. It was euphoric. I felt clarity. It was in that night that I thought I might hold out just a little bit longer.

And thus @strwberrytae was born - but it was far from the same. At first, I restarted the blog in secret. Why would I do this? Why would a 25 year old open a blog in secret? Well, two months after the awful fight, my ex proposed to me and I said yes. I know. Believe me, I know. I was scared. My depression was getting worse again. I no longer had an escape except for books. All I did was read so I had some sort of reality to be in besides my own. But returning to a brand new blog did not give the same satisfaction as returning to an old blog.

I worked so hard on my first blog and this redo, I tried to consider it as a gift. Perhaps this was a chance to start anew and rebrand myself. This optimism kept up for quite some time. Slowly, I added my favorite past works then added some new chapters. If you’ve been here with me since 2017, you would know that my appearance on Tumblr was still not the same. Then I got married in October.

An empty, loveless marriage that I regret to this day. Needless to say, my writing and activity on Tumblr was still practically non-existent as I was still too scared of getting caught. Even though he finally gave me permission to use it again because he could tell how miserable it was making me. Yes, gave me permission. Thankfully, it all ended after a year. I finally went to a therapist even though I hated them so much and all past therapists I had. She was pretty great. Within five sessions, I summoned the courage to break up with this guy. I was finally set free. Nearly 9 years together and I finally felt like I could breathe.

Unfortunately, although I was free, I had to live with the guy for about 5 months after the breakup. Which was beyond rough, believe me. Imagine someone writhing in pain and bawling their eyes out and venting non-stop about all of their faults and wrongdoings every single day. At the end of the day, as shitty as he was to me, he was my best friend too. We went through a lot of shit together and he did have some good sides to him too. So witnessing this was horrendous. Needless to say, I wasn’t getting much privacy either. Writing was not my top priority. Now it’s 2019 and things changed drastically for the better - and worst.

Remember the person I met in 2016 on Thanksgiving night? Well, that person is someone I crushed on every since that night. For 2 years. People, I’m telling you. He did absolutely nothing special that night. He didn’t flirt with me. He didn’t check me out. He didn’t do anything remotely to make a girl swoon but I was so drawn to him. The only word that could describe it was “cosmic” - beautifully cosmic.

Well in January 2019, 2 months following my break up, he came into my store one day. And my god did he look incredible. He was dressed head to toe in black - a fitted black suit at that. He even wore this long, designer jacket to match. Hair shaved on the sides with beautiful, thick dark hair on top. So tall - 182cm. A smile that could kill; quite literally. The canines are on point. He looked like a five course meal. That day, he definitely flirted with me. By the end of the week, we had our first date. Sadly, I also lost my job in the same week and was unemployed for a year because no one would hire me. I was laid off and one of my seniors took my job. Of course, they needed to keep me around for the holidays and then give me the boot. I was devastated. I hated that job so much as it only aided in fueling my depression but losing it was definitely an amazing thing. And! I survived on my savings and definitely didn’t spend my time writing. I had life to sort out last year - like from the ground up. No worries though. I got a job in February 2020 and I love it, so it’s all good, baby. Now I’m in the health field and feel like I’m actually helping people, which I love.

Now, here we are 2 years later and I’m engaged to the man. Someone who makes me smile everyday, believes in me, encourages me, let’s me be 100% myself, travels with me, taught me how to love myself, taught me to accept my body, gets me on a level that only my best friend could, and someone who goes above and beyond every single day to show me how much he loves me. Bonus, he welcomes my love for BTS with open arms, reads my writing, AND has even been sucked in himself to the fandom. Jungkook and Jimin, look out. You got another fanboy. I thought true love was impossible for me but I was very, very wrong.

He has shown me that I can be happy and I have finally experienced true happiness. When people ask how I’m doing, I don’t cringe and lie through my teeth. I smile and say that I am doing well because by George, I am. Everyone around me has seen me over the last two years and made the comment, “you look so much happier”. They meet him and swoon just as much as I do. Is he perfect? No, he’s not. He has flaws just like everyone else but he actually grows and learns from his mistakes to better himself. That’s what amazes me the most. Even if we argue, which is seldom, he refuses to let it go without resolution so we can always fix whatever the issue is. As we like to call it, we’re in-sync. In everything, we’re always so in-sync. I’m wildly in love, my dudes.

So, why am I not writing anymore? To put it simply, I’m happy and don’t really feel the desire to write anymore - at least not fanfiction. Even when I was super young, like elementary school, I used writing as an outlet for my dark escape. I wrote poetry primarily and by middle school, it turned to fanfiction for Supernatural, Simple Plan, and Panic! At The Disco. Along with a very long list of other bands and shows but anyways. I’ve been severely depressed since I was 15 and fanfiction put me in this hole that I couldn’t get out of. I relied on this method to help me get through all the bad shit I was dealing with. It was my coping mechanism.

Now? While depression never truly goes away as the lovely disease that it is, I am genuinely happy. Because of this, when I opened all of my past works and works in progress, I felt nothing but guilt. Guilt for not keeping up with my chapters or keeping my account active. I felt dread to have to escape in this world that I had created. I felt no joy or excitement. It was the strangest feeling that happened all in a matter of seconds. Thus leading to my final decision to take a step away from writing. Do I still love it? Absolutely. But now I think I’m going to re-route and focus my writing on what I love - reality. I’m going to get back into journaling and write essays about love and beauty as I’ve always loved to do. But for escaping into a fantasy world? I don’t know when I’ll be back.

Now I know what you’re thinking. “But you can write and be happy!” Nah fam. Writing has been my aid through dark times and now I mostly associate it with those dark times. And for once in my life, I feel this desire to enjoy reality and remain in it - with the exception of journaling here and there. Even daydreaming is difficult. It’s strange. I love my reality. This sounds like gloating now but it’s truly a remarkable feeling. When you’ve been battling depression for 15 years, it feels really freaking nice to say that I’m happy.

So that’s why I’m taking a break - in a very long, drawn out way. But my hope was that after this long story, you might understand truly why I am doing this. It would have been easier to just say that writing doesn’t bring me joy anymore but I feel that I owe more than that; especially because I really don’t know if I’ll write for this blog ever again. The last time I took a break, I disappeared without being able to explain myself and I wanted to do so now that I have the chance.

Ultimately, thank you to everyone who has stuck by me over the years. It’s truly been one hell of a rollercoaster. The friends I’ve made on here have seen me at my lowest of the lows. But hey! I’ll still be around. I just won’t be publishing or continuing any of my works anywhere in the near future. Seriously though. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. This website has helped me tremendously and I’ll never forget it. Besides, there’s lots of other exciting things happening in my life now so you’ll certainly see me pop in here and there to talk about it ♡

If you wish, you can message me for questions or anything you want to know. I’m an open book - at least about most things hehe. And don’t worry. I still very much love Taehyung and still wildly obsessing over how marvelous he is. Umf.

(here’s some recent photos of me as i rarely take selfies anymore haha. and a derp photo of me and the man i love >_< why is the cutest photo of him with the worst photo of me? still cute though hehe)

#me #personal #goodbye for now #no longer writing #bts writer

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innuendostudios · 5 years

Video

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Here’s How to Radicalize a Normie, a video essay on how the Alt-Right and their fellow travelers recruit. Clocking in at 41 minutes, 6756 words, 633 individual drawings, and 27 sources (including three full books), it is by far the longest and most heavily-researched video in The Alt-Right Playbook. I am very tired.

It took so long to put this behemoth together that my Patreon started to dip. So, maybe a little more than usual, if you want to keep seeing videos like these, please consider backing me on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

Say, for the sake of argument, your friend Gabe is starting to worry you.

Gabe’s always been just, you know, a regular guy. Not very political. He likes video games, sci-fi, comics, Star Wars, and anime. White guy shit. The only offbeat thing about him is you suspect there’s like a 20% chance he’s a furry. For all intents and purposes, Gabe is a normie.

But recently Gabe’s been spending a lot of time on some radically conservative forums, and listening to radically conservative podcasts, and picking some radically conservative arguments with you and your friends. You never would have expected this, not from Gabe, and, given the speed it’s happened, it’s worrying to think where it might be headed.

How have the Alt-Right gotten their hooks into your friend?

If you’ve ever known a Gabe, this video is for you. Here’s How to Radicalize a Normie.

Step 1: Identify the Audience

What you need to know before we begin is: around 2013, the Nazis went online.

Hate groups in the US, as tracked by the Southern Poverty Law Center, had been growing in number since the noughts, but, between 2012 and 2014, they dropped by almost a quarter. Patriot groups dropped by over a third. However, hate crimes stayed about the same. Radical conservatism was not shrinking, but decentralizing. Still radical, still often violent, but now full of white nationalist nomads unlikely to join a formal organization.

This didn’t make them harmless. What it did was protect their asses from the typical hate group cycle: getting the public’s attention, making allies in conservative media, swelling their numbers, and then eventually disgracing themselves with failures, infighting, and, often enough, members committing horrific acts of violence, which come with social and sometimes legal consequences for all the other members.

So the Alt-Right and their fellow travelers these days don’t so much have members. They have hashtags, followers, viewers, and subscribers. This insulates them from their own audience. If Gabe, as a member of that audience, were to go out and commit a crime on their behalf, there’d be little doubt they had a hand in radicalizing him, but it’d be very hard to claim they told him to do it. On some of these sites, where Gabe spends hours and hours of his day, he’s never created an account or left a comment; the people radicalizing him don’t even know he’s there.

This distributed nature is what makes the Alt-Right, and the movements connected to it, unique. (You may remember a notable proof-of-concept for this strategy.) Doing almost everything online has, as compared with traditional hate movements, dramatically increased their reach and inoculated them from consequence. The trade-off, as we will see, is a lack of control.

And so we come to Gabe.

Gabe exists at the intersection of the kinds of people the Alt-Right is looking for - straight white cis men who feel emasculated by modern society, primarily, though they do make exceptions - and the kinds of people who are vulnerable to recruitment. Gabe fits the first profile in that he got bullied in high school, and often feels he has to hide his nerdy side for fear of getting ridiculed. The Alt-Right also has success with men who can’t get laid or recently got divorced or feel anxious about an influx of non-white people in their community. These things can make one feel like less than the confident white man they’re “supposed” to be. And it’s the closest they will ever come to being minoritized.

Regarding the second profile, it’s important to know that Gabe is not categorically different from you or me. He’s a cishet white dude - his problems are not unique. There isn’t a ton of research into the demography of the Alt-Right, but there may be a higher-than-average chance Gabe has a history of being abused or comes from a broken home. You don’t know if it’s true of Gabe, he’s never said. But most abuse survivors don’t become Nazis. The things that make people like Gabe recruitable tend to be situational: it happens often during periods of transition, as dramatic as the death of a loved or as benign as moving to a new city. Things that make people ask big life questions. Gabe has concerns like economic precarity, not knowing his place in a changing world, stressful working conditions. In other words, Gabe is suffering under late capitalism, same as everyone, and it’s entirely plausible he could have gone down the path to becoming a Leftist.

This is not to make an “economic anxiety” argument: the animating force of the Far Right is and always has been bigotry. But the Alt-Right targets Gabe by treating his “economic anxiety” as one of many things bigotry can be sold as a solution to. It is their aim that, when dissatisfied white men go looking for answers, they find the Alt-Right before they find us.

Step Two: Establish a Community

Were Gabe pledging an old-school hate movement, there would probably be a recruiter to usher him into an existing community. But that’s the kind of formalized interaction modern extremists try to avoid. Online extremism has many points of entry, and everybody’s journey is unique, so rather than be comprehensive we will focus on what are, in my estimation, the two most common pathways: the Far Right creates a community Gabe is likely to stumble into, or infiltrates a community Gabe is already in.

The stumble-upon method has two main branches, one of which is just “Gabe ends up on a chan board,” which we’ve already done a video about. The other is kind of the polar opposite of 4chan’s cult of anonymity: Gabe ends up in the fandom of a Far Right thought leader.

These folks are charismatic media personalities (that’s charismatic according to Gabe’s tastes, not ours; I don’t understand it, either). These personalities may gain traction on any number of platforms, from podcasts to reportage to blogging, though the most effective platform for redpilling is, and yes I am biting the hand that feeds me, YouTube. They may get Gabe’s attention through fairly standard means, like talking about or even generating controversy to get themselves trending, while some of the more committed will employ dubious SEO tactics like clickbait, google bombing, and data voids (just pause for definitions, we don’t have time).

What they tend to have in common, especially the most accessible ones, is that they don’t present themselves as entry points to the radical Right. In fact, many did not set out to be Far Right thought leaders, and may not think of themselves as such (though they are often selling products, of which the Alt-Right are among their biggest purchasers, and it’s not like they’re turning the money away). How they present is the same way anyone presents who wants to be successful on social media: accessible, approachable, authentic. The face-to-face relationship a budding extremist forms with their recruiter or the leader of their hate group’s local chapter are here folded into one parasocial relationship with a complete stranger.

Why this person appeals to Gabe is they’re not selling politics as politics, but conservatism as a kind of lifestyle brand. They rely heavily on criticizing or ridiculing the Left: feminists are oversensitive, Black people unintelligent, queer folks doomed to loneliness, and trans people insane; I dunno if it’s a coincidence that these are all things Gabe thinks about himself in his low moments. By contrast, they don’t sell conservatism as having sounder policies or a more coherent moral framework, but that abandoning progressive principles and embracing conservative ones will make Gabe happier. Remember, Gabe isn’t looking for white nationalism or misogyny, what he wants is the cure to soul-sickness, and these friendly micro-celebs are here to offer a shot of life advice with politics as the chaser. It is extremely important that politics be presented as a set of affects, not a set of beliefs.

The second pathway is infiltration, which is its own beast. Media personalities sometimes become gateways to the Right almost by accident: they do something edgy, a part of their audience reacts positively, and, facing no real consequence, they do it more; this leads to further positive reinforcement from conservative fans, the rest of the audience acclimates, and the cycle repeats, the personality pushing the envelope further and further based on what flies with their increasingly conservative audience. In this way, they become a right-wing figure by both radicalizing and being radicalized by their audience.

Infiltration is deliberate.

The Far Right will reliably target any community that has 1) a large, white, male population, 2) whose niche interests allow them to feel vaguely marginalized, and 3) who are not used to progressive critique of said interests. This isn’t to say progressive critique doesn’t exist, or hasn’t been baked into the property from the beginning, but that it has been, so far, easy for white guys to ignore. As such, progressives within that community probably don’t talk politics much, and women and minorities are perfectly welcome to post, same as anyone, but just, you know, don’t, don’t make identity politics, you know, like, a thing.

Given Gabe’s proclivities, he’s probably already in a number of fan communities where he can geek out and not get teased. And this is where the Far Right will go looking for him

Communities are at their most vulnerable to infiltration at times of political discord. This can happen naturally - say, a new property in the fandom has a Black protagonist - or it can be provoked - say, a bunch of channers join the forum and say provocative things about race to get people arguing - or both. Left to its own devices, the community might sort out its differences and maybe even come out more progressive than they started. But, with the right pressure applied in the right moment, these communities can devolve into arguments about the need to remove a nebulously-defined “politics” from the conversation.

The adage about bros on the internet is “‘political’ means anything I disagree with,” but it’d be more accurate to say, here, “‘political’ means anything on which the community disagrees.” For instance, “Nazis are bad” is an apolitical statement because everyone in the community agrees. It’s common sense, and therefore neutral. But, paradoxically, “Nazis are good” is also apolitical; because “Nazis are bad” is the consensus, “Nazis are good” must be just an edgy joke, and, even if not, the community already believes the opposite, so the statement is harmless. Tolerable. However, “feminism is good” is a political statement, because the community hasn’t reached consensus. It is debatable, and therefore political, and you should stop talking about it. And making political arguments, no matter how rational, is having an agenda, and having an agenda is ruining the community.

(Now, it is curious how the things that provoke the most disagreement tend to be whichever ones make white dudes uncomfortable. One of life’s great, unanswerable mysteries.)

You can gather where this is going: a community that doesn’t tolerate progressivism but does tolerate Nazism is going to start collecting Nazis, Nazis whose goal is to drive a wedge between the community and the Left. Once the Left acknowledges, “Hey, your community’s developing a Nazi problem,” the Nazis - who are, remember, trusted, apolitical members of the community who might just be kidding about all the Nazi shit - say, “Did you hear that, guys?! Those cultural Marxists just called all of us Nazis!” Wedge. Similarly, any community members who say, “but Nazis though” are framed as infiltrators pushing an agenda, even if they’ve been there longer than the Nazis have. They get the wedge, too.

This is how fandoms radicalize. They are built as - yeah, I’ll say it - safe spaces for nerds, weebs, and furries, and are told that the Left is a threat to their safety. Given a choice between leaving a community that has mattered to him for years and simply adjusting to the community’s shifting politics, the assumption is that Gabe will stay. This assumption is right often enough that a lot of fandoms have been colonized.

What is true of both of these methods - Gabe finding the Right or the Right finding him - is that Gabe does not come nor stay for the ideology. He’s here for the community, the sense of belonging, of being with his people, of having his fears validated and his enjoyment shared. The ideology is simply the price of admission.

Step Three: Isolate

There is a vast, interconnected network of Far Right communities out there, and Gabe is, at this point, only on the periphery. In order to keep him in, they need to disrupt his relationships to other communities, and become, more and more, his primary online social space. Having made this space hostile to the Left, they now seek to break his connections to progressives elsewhere in his life.

This is hard to do online. The whole appeal of moving radicalism to the internet is that your away-from-keyboard life doesn’t have to change. You are crypto the moment you log off. Some thought leaders will encourage their audience to cut ties with Family of Origin, or “deFOO,” but, even then, they can’t monitor whether the audience has actually done it the way an in-person movement could. And so alienating Gabe from the Left is less controlled, and, consequently, may be less total. How much Gabe isolates is up to him.

But the vast majority of Far Right media presumes an alienation from the Left. Part of conservative bloggers and YouTubers making the Left look pathetic is doing a lot take-downs and responses. This is a constant repetition of the Left’s arguments for the purpose of mockery, and, for Gabe, it starts to replace any engagement with progressive media directly. He soon knows the Left only through caricature. It also trains him, if he does directly engage, to approach the Left with the same combative stance as his role models. (For reference, see my comment section.) And this is only if he doesn’t partake in one of the many active boycotts of “SJW media.”

In addition to mocking the Left’s arguments, they also, curiously, appropriate them. This is one part sanitization: liberal centrism is more socially acceptable; indeed, many figures on the outer layers think of themselves as moderates, even as they serve as gateways to radicalism. But, also, many of Gabe’s problems could be addressed by progressive leftism, so they sell him racist, sexist versions of it. Yes, there is a problem with workers being underpaid and overextended, but the solution isn’t unions, it’s deporting immigrants; yes, there is a chronic loneliness and anger to being a man in the modern age, but it’s not because of the toxic masculine expectations placed on you by the patriarchy, it’s women being slutty; yes, wealth disparity does mean a tiny percentage of elites have more influence over culture and politics than the rest of us combined, but the problem isn’t capitalism, it’s the Jews. And it’s hard for Gabe to reject these ideas without, in the process, rejecting the progressive ideas they’re copied from; the Right’s “take the red pill” is, to the untrained eye, similar to the Left’s “get woke.” (Or, at least, the bowdlerized version of “get woke” that is no longer specifically about race which came to fashion when white people started saying it, grumble grumble.)

Take the red pill or reject them both; either is a step to the right.

As this rhetoric slips into his day-to-day conversation, even as seemingly harmless “irreverence,” it may strain relationships with people who are not entertained by this shit. Off-color comments about race and gender can certainly be wearying for female and non-white friends, which can lead to a passive distance or an eventual confrontation [“why is everyone but me so sensitive?!”], which only seem to confirm what his reactionary community says about liberal snowflakes. If he says these things on social media, he may get his account suspended, and, if he comes back under an alt, you can bet his new reactionary friends will be the first to reconnect, applaud the behavior that got him banned, and repeat should he get banned again. A few cycles of this and he’s lost touch with everyone else.

Also, his adoption of the insular, meme-laden terminology of this community makes him less and less comprehensible to outsiders.

Over time, sources of information get replaced with community-approved ones: conservative news, conservative YouTube, conservative Wikipedia if he’s really committed. The Algorithm soon takes note and stops recommending media from the Left. He stops watching shows with a “liberal agenda,” which usually means shows starring women and people of color. Now, there is evidence that the human mind responds to fictional characters similarly to real people, and that consuming diverse media can decrease bigotry in ways roughly analogous to having a diverse group of friends, which is one of many reasons we say representation matters. By consuming a homogenous media diet, Gabe stymies his ability to have even parasocial relationships with anyone who isn’t a cishet conservative white dude or one of their approved exceptions.

To the extent that any of this happens, it happens at Gabe’s discretion and at his own chosen pace. It has not been forced on him, only encouraged and rewarded. But the fact that it hasn’t been forced can make him all the more willing to accept it, because it seems safe to consider; even though his life and social circle are changing to accommodate, he does not feel committed. But many Gabes have walked these halls, and, if they close the door behind them, there’s nowhere left to go but down.

Step Four: Raise their Power Level

(...and they say we ruined anime.)

Consider the ecosystem of the Alt-Right as layers of an onion, with Gabe sitting at the edge and ready to traverse towards the center. (No, I’m not just going to reiterate the PewDiePipeline, though, if you haven’t seen it, go do that.)

The outer layer of the onion is extremism at its most plausibly deniable. Without careful scrutiny, the public-facing figureheads could pass as dispassionate, and the websites as merely problematic rather than softly fascist. It is valuable if Gabe believes this as well; that, at this stage, he believe the bigotry is simply trolling, the extremists an insignificant minority, and any report of harassment faked. That he believe where he is is as deep as the rabbit hole goes. And that he continue to believe this at each successive layer.

People in the deepest crevices of the Alt-Right self-report getting redpilled on multiple issues at different times in their journey to the center of the onion. If Gabe’s first red pill is about the SJWs coming for his free speech, he’ll think that’s all anyone in his community believes; there’s no racism here, people are just making a point about their right to use slurs. Then, when he gets redpilled on the white genocide, he’ll laugh at those Alt-Lite cucks who tried to sweep the race realists under the rug, and at himself for having once been one, but acknowledge that those channels and websites are still useful for onboarding people, so he won’t denounce them. At the same time, nobody takes those manosphere betas seriously.

And this process is reiterated with every pill swallowed: gender essentialism, autogynephilia, birtherism, Sandy Hook truth, pizzagate, QAnon if he’s really out there. The heart of the onion is typically the Jewish Question, but these can happen in any order, and in any number. But each layer sells itself as being, finally, the ultimate truth. Each denies the validity of the others; the layers ahead don’t exist, they’re made up my liberals, while the people behind are asleep where you are now awake. That’s why they chose “the red pill” as their metaphor: take it, and everything will be revealed. That’s why it cozies up with conspiracism. But what’s supposed to follow is that this knowledge help Gabe in some way, and it doesn’t. Blaming immigrants doesn’t actually fix the economy, and hating women doesn’t make men less lonely. But, having been alienated from everything outside the onion, once that sinks in, the only recourse on offer is to seek out the next pill.

And pills are easy to find. Those within the network have laissez-faire relationships, even as they, on paper, disavow one another. When they need a source or a guest host, they aren’t going to go to the Left; they’re going to feature each other. The Left is the enemy; their ideas are beneath consideration, and the only reason to engage them is for public humiliation. [Shapiro’s book.] But you can interview “western chauvinists” and that doesn’t mean you’re endorsing them, just, you know, it’s fine to hear ‘em out, nothing should be off-limits in the marketplace of ideas. Besides, Nazis are apolitical.

And because these folks keep showing up in each others’ metadata, regardless of what they say, Google thinks there is definitely a relationship between the guy “just asking questions” and the guy denying the Holocaust. Gabe is softly exposed to many flavors of conservatism just slightly more radical than he is now, and is expected, at the very least, to not question their presence. This is an environment where deradicalizing - listening to the Left - would be sleeping with the enemy, but radicalizing further? You do you, buddy.

Gabe’s emotional journey, however, is somewhat more complex. If you’ve spent any time reading or watching reactionary media you’ve probably noticed it’s really. fucking. repetitive. It’s a few thousand phrasings of the same handful of arguments. Like, there’s only so many jokes about attack helicopters! But these people just crank out content, and most of it’s derivative; the reason to pick one personality over another isn’t because they say something different, but because they say it differently. Gabe just picks the affect it’s delivered in.

Repetition dulls the shock of the most egregious statements, making them appear normal and prepping him for more extreme ideas. Meanwhile, the arguments themselves? They’re not good. (BreadTube will never run out of shit to debunk.) They are repetitive because they’re not good. They’re mantric. A good argument you only need to hear one time; if you can follow it, internalize it, and explain it to someone else, you know you’ve understood it. But a bad argument can’t convince you on its own merits, so it will often rely on affect. This can be the snappy, thought-terminating cliche, or the long, winding diatribe that sounds really sensible while you’re hearing it but when someone asks you for the gist you can only say “go watch these 17 videos and it’ll all make sense.” Both these approaches are largely devoid of content, but, gosh, if they don’t sound sure of themselves.

And that mode can be very persuasive, but it doesn’t stick the way a coherent argument does. It needs to be repeated, the affect replenished, because the words matter less than the delivery. There needs to be a steady stream of confident voices saying “we’ve got this figured out and everyone else is stupid” or Gabe’s gonna notice the flaws. They are not well-hidden.

And the catch-22 of returning to that stream over and over is that these communities are stressful even as they are calming. People afraid they will die virgins go to forums with people who share and validate that fear, and also say, “Yes, you will die a virgin.” People afraid Syrians are coming to kill us all watch videos by people who share and validate that fear, and also say, “Yes, Syrians are coming to kill us all.” Others have already pointed out that rubbing your face in your worst anxieties is a form of digital self-harm, but I need to you understand the toxic recursion of it: Gabe is going to these communities to get upset. Every emotion is converted into anger, because sadness, fear, and despair are paralyzing but anger is motivating; Gabe feels less helpless when he’s pissed off. And so, while he’s topping up on reassuring nonsense, he’s also topping up on stress. And, being cut off from everything outside the network, the only place he knows to go to release that stress is back to the place that gives it to him. It’s a feedback loop, pulling him deeper and deeper on the promise that, at some point, relief will come.

It is a similar dynamic that keeps people in abusive relationships.

When someone in Gabe’s community makes a racist joke, they are presenting Gabe with a choice between the human interaction of laughing with his friends and his societal responsibility not to be a fuckin’ racist. And not laughing seems ridiculous; everybody’s friends here; no one’s getting hurt; this is harmless. And so the irreverent race joke draws a line between the personal and the political, and suggests that one can be safely prioritized over the other. One way to look at radicalization is being asked to stick with that seemingly innocuous decision as the stakes are raised incrementally: first with edgier humor, and then comments that are funny because they’re shocking but you couldn’t really call them jokes, and then “funny” comments that are also sincerely angry, but, in each instance, since he laughed with his bros last time, it stands to reason he should keep favoring the personal over some abstracted notion of “politics.”

This is why the progressive adage “the personal is political” is among the most threatening things you can say in these spaces.

I’m not trying to make a slippery slope argument. Most of us who laughed at edgy jokes when we were teenagers didn’t grow up to be Nazis. It is a slippery slope in the specific context of being in community with people trying to radicalize you. Gabe is a lonely white boy in need of friends, and laughing at a racist joke is personal, while not laughing is political. Staying in a community that has Nazis in it is personal, and leaving is political. The personal is what brings people together and the political drives them apart. (The “only if some of them are bigots” part of that sentence is usually lopped off). There’s this joke on the internet that nerds perceive only two races: white and political. Following that logic, what could be more apolitical than an ethnostate?

They are banking on his willingness to adapt his beliefs to suit an environment that meets a need. That same need can be satisfied by white nationalism. There are few things more seductive to people who doubt their own worth than being told you are valuable simply for being white. And you can sub in male, cis, straight, allosexual, or able-bodied. It just takes priming: by the time Gabe officially embraces bigotry, he’s already been acting like a bigot for months. The red pill is simply the moment he says it out loud.

Change Gabe’s surroundings, and you change Gabe.

Step Five: ???

The final step in a traditional extremist group would be getting a mission. But that is one thing the Alt-Right can’t do. Once you start giving clear directives, you can’t play yourselves off as a bunch of unaffiliated hashtags and think tanks; you are now a formalized movement accountable to its followers, and can be judged and policed as such.

To my mind, Charlottesville was an attempt to become such a movement, taking things offline and getting all the different groups working collectively. And, as so often happens when these people get in the same space - especially with no official leaders or means of control over their members - it backfired. Their true colors came out before they were ready and a counter-protester lost her life.

This would be the point where, historically, an extremist group starts to disintegrate. Their veneer of respectability gone, they’re now hated by the public, the media wants nothing more to do with them, and everyone not in jail turns on each other or goes underground. This is also the point where the liberal establishment says, “My job here is done,” and utterly fails to retake control of the narrative, allowing the next batch of radicals to pick up more or less where the last one left off.

But to an already-decentralized group like the Alt-Right, Charlottesville was bad but eminently survivable. People retreated back to the internet, with its code words and anonymous forums, but that’s where much of the work was already done anyway. The platforms where they organized kept tolerating them, the authorities still didn’t classify them as terrorists, and any disgraced figureheads were replaced with up-and-comers.

The major change in strategy is that it doesn’t seem anyone has tried to formalize the Alt-Right since.

So where does that leave Gabe? He’s gone through this whole process of largely hands-off indoctrination - and I should stress his journey may look like what we’ve outlined or it may look different in places, this video is not comprehensive - but now he’s swallowed every pill he cares to, he blames half a dozen minorities for everything he sees as wrong with the world, and no one will give him anything to do. You’ve got this ad hoc movement frothing young men into a militant fervor and then just leaving them to stew in their own hate. Should we really be surprised at how many commit mass shootings?

This is a machine for producing lone wolves.

Leaving men to take up arms of their own volition is a way of enacting terror while being just outside the popular conception of a terror cell. There are also, of course, more classic militias that will offer Gabe clear directives - they’re recruiting from the same pool. And Gabe may stop short of this step, settling in a middle layer that suits him or finding the inner layers too extreme. But violence is the logical conclusion of an ideology of hate, and, should Gabe take this step, he can approach violence in the same incremental fashion he approached conservatism.

He can start with yelling at people on Twitter, and then maybe collective brigading, DDoS attacks, sharing dox, leaking nudes, calling their phone numbers, texting them pictures of their houses from the sidewalk. These acts of cruelty become games of oneupmanship within his community. All this can start as far back as Step 2, and get more intense the deeper he goes. Some people join explicitly partake in harassment and violence the way Gabe joined to talk about anime.

But this behavior can serve as a kind of buy-in. The Left and the feminists and the LGBTQs and the Muslims and the immigrants are all, within his community, subhuman. You’ve maybe heard the conservative catchphrase “feminism is cancer”; well don’t treat cancer by having a respectful exchange of ideas with it, but by eradicating it down to the last cell. Cruelty against the Left is framed as righteous.

From any other perspective, posting someone’s bank information is something you might feel ashamed of. Which creates a psychological imperative not to consider other perspectives. A thing that keeps people in is staving off the guilt they will reckon with the moment they step out. Gabe is also aware that anything he’s done to the Left could be done to him if he leaves; some communities even keep dox on their members as insurance. And the things he’s been encouraged to do to the Left will likely make him feel that the Left would never take him now; the radical Right is the only home he’s got. Harassment becomes another tool of isolation.

Steadily, options for Gabe are whittled down to being a vigilante or a nihilist. There are periods of elation: moments the Alt-Right feels it’s winning - or, more accurately, the people they hate are losing - are like cocaine. They are authoritarians, after all. But the times in between are mean and angry. They are antisocial, starved of emotional connection, consuming incompatible conspiracies that may at any point run them afoul of one another, devoted to figureheads who cater to but cannot risk leading them, and living under constant threat of being outed to the Left or turned on by the Right for stepping out of line. Gabe took this journey for the sense of community and purpose, and, but for the rare moments everything goes their way, the Alt-Right can’t maintain either. They can only keep promising his day will come, a story he could get from a $5 palm reading.

The feeling there’s nothing left but to kill yourself or someone else is so common it’s a meme.

But there is always a third option: Gabe can leave.

Pre-Conclusion: For Fuck’s Sake Do Not Make Gabe Your Whole-Ass Praxis

Before we continue, I want to state plainly that Gabe went off the deep end because he found a community willing to tell him that, because he is a cishet white man, the world revolves around him. Do not treat him like this is true.

If a fraction of the energy spent having debates with America’s Gabes were spent instead on voter re-enfranchisement, prisoner’s rights, protections for immigrants, statehood for DC and Puerto Rico, and redistricting, Gabe’s opinions, in the societal sense, wouldn’t matter. Reactionary conservatism is a small and largely unpopular ideology that is only so represented in our culture and politics because they’ve learned how to game the system.

And I get it. Those are huge problems that are going to take years to address, where, if you know a Gabe, that’s a conversation you could have today. And, if you think you can get through to him, it is worthwhile to try. This is a fight on many fronts and deradicalization is one of them. But it is only one, so please keep it in perspective. It sends an awful message when we spend more time trying to get bigots back on our side than we do the people they are bigoted against.

Your value as a lefty does not hinge on whether you can change Gabe’s mind.

Conclusion: How Gabe Gets Out

He may just grow out of it. These communities skew young, and some folks hit a point where hanging with edgy teens doesn’t feel cool anymore.

He may become disillusioned after the movement fails to deliver on its promises.

He may become disillusioned if something goes wrong in his life and his community isn’t there for him, if he feels they like his race and his gender but don’t actually care about him.

He may be shocked if he sees the Alt-Right at its worst before being appropriately conditioned. Charlottesville was a step too far for a lot of people.

His community may turn on him for any perceived unorthodoxy, and he may leave out of necessity.

He may be separated by circumstance from the community - a trip with no internet, hospitalization, arrest - and not be able to top up on the rhetoric. This may lead him to question his beliefs.

His community may disappear, either tearing itself apart or getting shut down by authorities.

He may have incidental contact with populations he’s supposed to hate, and have trouble reconciling who they are in person with what he’s been told about them. In his community, people bond over shared intolerance, but, suddenly, being tolerant helps him make friends. (This is one reason the Alt-Right has made a battleground of the college campus.)

He may form or revisit relationships outside the network, people who can offer him the connection he’s been looking for. This may reintroduce outside perspectives. More importantly, it rekindles his ability to have healthy relationships at all, something the Alt-Right has estranged him from.

As with recruiters, it seems these “escape hatch” relationships can sometimes be parasocial; coming to respect a public figure who is on the Left, or is critical of the Alt-Right.

Someone he is close to may compel him to choose, “me or the movement.” A lot of young men leave to save a romantic relationship.

Hearing stories from people who’ve already jumped may help; there aren’t a lot of public formers, and some raise suspicions as to their sincerity, but it is getting more common, and may be the closest we get to exit counseling for the Alt-Right.

He may become aware of the ways he’s being manipulated, or have them revealed to him, maybe because he stumbled into BreadTube, I dunno. Knowledge that you are being indoctrinated is no guarantee it won’t work - you are not immune to propaganda - but it can help one resist.

And he may revisit a core belief system that used to guide him, be it religion or social justice or a really wholesome fandom, and be reminded of the identity he used to have.

Moments like these, in isolation or in aggregate, can inspire Gabe to jump. They are also good times for friends to intervene. The reach and the impunity that comes with the internet means it has never been easier to fall into reactionary extremism. It has also never been easier to get out. People who exit skinhead gangs often fear for their lives; for Gabe, there’s a chance getting out is as simple as going to a different website. Much of his community does not know his name or his face and he may not important enough to dox.

What doesn’t get Gabe out - not reliably, not that I have seen - is an argument with a stranger who proves all his facts wrong and his ideology bunk. Facts don’t always work because facts don’t care about his feelings. This was about staying in a community, and holding onto an identity, that mattered to him. It was about belonging, and that is something a rando from the other side of the culture war can’t give him and probably shouldn’t be responsible for.

The theme here is human connection. Before he can do the work of disentangling himself, and facing the guilt of what he’s believed and maybe done, he has to know there’s somewhere for him on the other end of it. That the Right hasn’t ruined him. They’ve told him all of history is groups fighting each other over status, and, without his clan, he’ll be an exile. He needs a better story.

I don’t know that lefty spaces are ideal for this, in no small part because bringing someone who’s a bit of a Nazi but working on it into diverse communities is… questionable. And it probably wouldn’t be good for him, either; having just gotten out of a toxic belief system, he’s going to be deeply skeptical of all ideologies. In a perfect world, people who care about Gabe could build for him - to use a therapy term - a holding space. Someplace private - physical or digital - where Gabe can work out his feelings, where he is both encouraged and expected to be better but is not, in the moment, judged. That comes later. It is delicate and time-consuming work that should not be done in public, but we find these beliefs, built up over the course of months or years, tend to fall away very quickly with a shift of environment. Change Gabe’s surroundings and you change Gabe.

But, instead, a lot of people who jump are functionally deprogramming themselves, which is working for a lot of them, but it’s haphazard, and there are recidivists.

If you don’t personally know a Gabe, or have training as a counselor, you may not be in a position to help him. Possibly there are things you can do to disrupt the recruitment process or prevent infiltration of spaces you’re in - I’m looking into it, but talk to your mods - but, elephant in the room: meaningful change will require reform on the part of platform holders. Tools to disrupt this process already exist and are being used on groups like ISIS, but they’re not being used on the Alt-Right because they try oh so very hard not to get classified as terrorists (and also any functioning anti-radicalization policy would require banning a lot of conservative politicians, so there’s that...).

But what makes our story better than theirs is that the fight for social and economic justice, though it is long, and difficult, and frustrating, when it works, it fulfills the promise the Right can’t keep: it materially make people’s lives better. I am not prone to sentimentality, or to giving these videos happy endings. But one thing we have that the Alt-Right doesn’t is hope.

#video essay

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cutesuki--bakugou · 4 years

Text

What I Needed

@bnha-christmas2019 | Day 27: Company Party, “I thought you said you weren’t going to come>” | Bakugou x Fem!Reader | Explicit | Cursing, Sex, Oral Sex, Alcohol Consumption, Soft Baku, Comfort, Confessions

Words: 7228 Genre: Romance / Angst / Humor

Please blacklist the tag cutesuki-lemons if you do not want to see this content from my blog. I will no longer be tagging with specific keywords for this type of content.Thank you~

Due to the nature of this post, the characters are 18+

Having his own hero agency was everything Bakugou had ever wanted. He had power, fame, popularity, influence and the high social status that came with being one of the top heroes in the county, just like he had always dreamed. In his late twenties, his life was exactly how he had wanted it, but there were some… responsibilities that he, in all honesty, despised. Fame came with the need to socialize, to have a decent relationship with not only his fans, but the people he worked with. Sure, this wasn’t the first time he had to throw a company party, nor was it the biggest he had ever done, but that didn’t make it any less irritating.

A party to celebrate the holiday and new year weren’t anything to bat an eye at, especially not when it was open to any hero from any agency that wanted to participate. For less successful heroes or those still growing their reputation, who wouldn’t jump on the chance to party with the greatest heroes in the country? It wasn’t just Bakugou mingling around in the giant ballroom in the basement floor of his agency. Midoriya Izuku was here somewhere, as was Todoroki Shoto and others whom had grown the ranks with Bakugou from high school. There were even some older heroes present, old mentors and teaches. Friends and rivals alike were invited.

And that included you.

What were you to Bakugou, really? Were you a friend? A rival? Competition? His crush? All the above, if he were honest with himself, but calling you his ‘crush’ made him feel like a child. His feelings for you being just a ‘crush’ were a huge understatement. No, he had more than just a crush. In truth, he was head over heels for you, even surprising himself with how deeply he felt.

It had been like this since high school. He hated you at first, as he did everyone, but there was something about you that called to him. Did he ever act on it? Of course not. All his focus was on school, on training, internships and pushing himself to the highest degree he could manage. He had no time for girls, even if you were nearly irresistible. It didn’t help that it had been obvious you were into him, too. Still, all your advances were ignored, until a barrier had grown between you and nothing was achieved outside of a mildly awkward friendship.

It changed after you both graduated. For nearly two years, neither of you paid any attention to each other, until you ended up interning in the same agency. As adults, the spark was unmistakable. But Bakugou still couldn’t find it within himself to commit to a relationship, not when he was still working so hard for his goals.

That didn’t mean that he couldn’t resist you, however. Whatever relationship the two of you had was a physical one and nothing more. Fucking your brains out in the men’s locker room of the agency became almost a weekly occurrence, with many nights spent at each other’s apartments. Though, you could both admit, silently to yourselves, that there was something else there. The late nights watching stupid movies, stuffing yourselves with pizza and other shitty food, laughing and telling stories was proof enough. It was something Bakugou never wanted to lose.

Until you both became independent heroes. Bakugou left you in the dust at first, refusing to show you even an ounce of mercy when it came to bringing in villains or numbers of rescues. Being in the same region didn’t exactly help that, as his goals to be at the top wouldn’t be derailed, not even by a woman he adored. At one point, he was positive that you hated him. Your tenacity and perseverance pushed through in the end, and you climbed the ranks just as he had. The entire world saw you as rivals, and so Bakugou figured that is what you should both stay. Rivals with a past and nothing else.

Years pass with only business talk between you both, but lately, Bakugou could have sworn that spark was beginning to return. The way you looked at him and the sweet flow of your voice reminded him so much of your time together that he couldn’t resist falling for you all over again. All this time, no other woman he had slept with could compare to you, and it only grew worse the more you began to interact.

Bakugou knew that he may have everything he ever wanted in a career. But in his personal life, there was something missing. A partner, someone to spend his life with and have a family. Out of all the women he had met in his life, who had tried to woo him and gain his affection, not a single one had come as close to the level of adoration he felt for you. Even still, there was the itch in the back of his mind that he had already burned that bridge long ago. How could you possibly still care or want him after all this time and all the grief he put you through?

It was a shock to see you suddenly in the crowd of people, casually making your way to the bar with an already empty glass of champagne. That was enough to tell him that you had been here a while, so either you hadn’t seen him yet or you were just straight up avoiding him. If you were, then that bothered him quite a bit. He wanted to talk to you, to try and fix that he had broken between you. But if you didn’t want to see him, then was it really worth the effort?

“Mr. Bakugou? Did you hear my question?”

“Eh?” His attention on you broken, Bakugou’s gaze was pulled down to the woman in front of him, who was peering up at him curiously. She had been blabbering off to him for the past half hour, doing everything she possibly could to keep his focus and conversation. What she was really trying to do was obvious, with her low-cut dress and flirtatious body language. From what he had gathered, she was brand new to the hero scene, and she wanted to climb up the ladder based off networking and… sleeping with the big boys. He had considered going along with it, even though he barely remembered anything she had told him, but now he just didn’t give a shit. He just wanted to get away before he lost you in the crowd again.

“I asked if you were planning on taking in any new interns. If so, I… wanted to get my name out there. Maybe we can talk about it in private?”

“Uh, no. I’m not. Excuse me.” The way he pardoned himself was more like a demand to move, not bothering to pay attention to her whining as he squeezed himself out of the group he had been standing in. Thankfully, when he was finally free, he saw you still waiting at the bar, eyes on the bartender as they mixed up a drink. Sitting on a stool, you looked exceptionally elegant in your glittering dress, which hugged your figure. It came to a stop right above your knees, though the fabric was hiked up to your mid-thigh from your legs being crossed. The black hose you wore only hinted at the soft skin beneath, and how badly he wanted to touch you was almost suffocating.

“Thank you!” You spoke with a smile as the bartender handed your drink to you, still not having even noticed Bakugou. “Getting a lot of business, are you?”

“Ah, yeah!” The young man spoke with a pleasant grin, beginning to dry out some glasses with a rag. “These parties are always a riot! And they pay well.”

After taking a healthy sip from your drink, you leaned back a bit to sit up straighter. “I bet you’re getting amazing tips. You have to be at least a little tipsy at these parties. Especially if you’re dealing face to face with the host!”

It was then that Bakugou decided to step in, clearing his throat as he came to sit beside you. “Excuse me?”

“Oooh, well, speak of the devil.” A sly smile crossed your lips as if you had known he was there the entire time. Of course you had known, why else would you say such a teasing and rude thing to the little bartender? After two hours at this ridiculously rowdy party, you had finally found and gotten Bakugou’s attention.

Finally.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to come.” With a snap of his fingers towards the bartender, he got his attention. “Whisky.”

Ignoring his command for alcohol, you stirred your own drink with the straw. “I wasn’t at first. But everyone was talking about how big this party was going to be and how it would look good for me to show up… I decided the networking and positive publicity was worth having to suffer through your presence.”

Even though he felt a twinge of annoyance at your snarky attitude, Bakugou gave an amused scoffed, taking a hefty swig from his drink once it was placed in front of him. “You can bullshit other people, [Name], but not me. Don’t fuck around.”

“You’ve done enough fucking around for both of us, Kacchan.” Your words were tinted with ice, even though there was still a flirty heat behind them. “How does it feel? To have so much fame that all these people come just to get a chance to introduce themselves to you. Or to have women on their knees in seconds. That poor little blonde you left over there; she must be very dejected.”

“You know damn well networking irritates the shit out of me. And you’re no better. If I wasn’t sitting next to you, there would be men lining up just to be rejected by you. Why the fuck do you have to bring that shit up, anyway? Can’t we just have a normal conversation without you throwing that in my face?”

“It’s all I was to you,” Your gaze left your drink to look up at him, the man that you adored more than anything. Yet, here you were, pushing him away again with your bitterness. You had already forgiven him, for pushing you aside and abandoning what life you could have had together for his career. He seemed to be making an effort… why couldn’t you? “What else would you want to talk about? Work? Ratings? Money? That’s all you care about, so if you want to boast, then go for it. I’ll pretend to listen like you do to those girls.”

“In the past year that we’ve had more than a five-minute conversation, I’m pretty fucking sure I hadn’t said a word about myself. That’s you. You bring it up.”

With his accusation, Bakugou could see your cheeks begin to flush, your frustrations with yourself showing themselves even so slightly. He knew that forced blank expression, that stiff posture as you tried to stay strong to not let your tough front crumble. More than anything, he wished that wall you had built around yourself would crack, even just slightly, to allow him in.

“You’re the one that told me all those years ago that you only care about building your career and you wouldn’t let anything get in the way of that. So why are you even trying to talk to me right now, Kacchan? You have everything you ever wanted.”

“That’s not true. Come with me.” Bakugou stood, picking up his glass as he did. “I can’t talk to you over this fucking shit music.”

For a moment, you hesitated. You knew that if you were alone with him, you would break. All this time, you had refused to give him any more than a few minutes of your time, but it wasn’t because you hated him. You were scared that your feelings for him would explode the instant you were alone, that the craving to feel that happiness from all those years back would cause you to make a mistake.

Would it be a mistake? Or would you finally feel complete again?

With a sigh, you stood, fixing your dress back into place before snatching up your own drink and following him towards one of the many exits. Much to your annoyance, many people tried to stop you both to chit chat, or to keep Bakugou's attention as long as they could. Over and over, he either ignored or dismissed them, even people you recognized to be CEOs of huge corporations. Each time, your heart fluttered, softening your resolve until you were blushing fiercely.

Out in the hallway, Bakugou gave a heavy sigh, relieved for the music to be muffled after the door shut behind you. “Finally… I hate that shit.” Taking a few steps forward, he pushed a button on the elevator, prompting you to glance up as the number began to descend.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To my office. No one but me has a key to get in. We can be alone…”

“Don’t you think it will seem suspicious for us to go up there? People will talk.”

“People talk anyway. People were talking the instant I sat down next to you.” Bakugou’s crimson glare set off that familiar fire within you, making you clutch onto your dress with your free hand. “You think people don’t know how we used to be? We weren’t exactly subtle…”

“That was a long time ago…”

“Five years isn’t a long time. Not to forget things like that between such high-profile people.”

With a ding, the elevator opened in front of you, and with a vague gesture from Bakugou, you walked inside first. He stood beside you, and the instant the elevator door closed, the tension was almost palpable. But it wasn’t an uncomfortable tension, which you slowly came to realize as the elevator rose up to the top floor. It was a mutual wanting, some type of magnetic force that you were both fighting against with all your strength. He was so close to you, within your grasp and yet so far away.

Could you really let him back in?

Bakugou once again allowed you to exit first before following, sipping from his glass as he headed straight for his office entrance. This wasn’t the first time you had been up to this floor of his agency, but it was the first time you were going to visit his private office. Corporate meetings were held up here, just down the hall, and you had always wondered what was behind those double doors to the left.

Pulling out his ID from his pocket, he held it up in front of a sensor, which went off with a beep and the click of the doors unlocking followed. Pulling the door open, Bakugou nodded for you to go in, silent and cautious. At first, you only watched him for any signs of regret or reconsideration, but you saw none. Even your own second thoughts were hidden in the back of your mind, so you entered, a bit surprised at the perfect and professional order of his office. It wasn’t quite what you expected, but then again, there were a lot of things about Bakugou that were unexpected.

Most people would see him and instantly think ‘that man is a brute’ or ‘he’s absolutely vile’. Was he? Yes, absolutely. But there were things that only you had seen, that he would not dare share with another living soul. He had told you about his insecurities, his worries and his regrets. You had held him when he awoke in a panic, brought on by nightmares he couldn’t control. He had laughed with you about teenage memories, smiling with such sincerity that you were sure he must have been another person entirely. Even more special, the way he would caress you and kiss you with such a sweet tenderness you would just melt in his hands. He was gentle and loving behind all that explosive anger.

Loving… Were we in love? I… never really thought it would have been possible… For him to love another person. Feeling your emotions swell a bit at the thought, you struggled to restrain the burning in your eyes, refusing to cry in front of him already. How could you possibly become that weak willed just because you were alone together? Had you really put on such a strong facade for the public that you didn’t even feel like yourself anymore?

“People always assume I have everything just from what they can see.” Bakugou spoke after the door shut, gaining your attention and momentary distraction from your emotions. “This office. That’s all you see. Awards. Certificates. Success. Or at least, all what people assume success to be. And I’ve reached it faster than most… Because I worked so hard for it.” After finishing off his drink, he sat the empty glass down on the edge of his desk.

At the moment, your sharp tongue was dulled, finding that you wanted to hear what he had to say. He was speaking so calmly, as if this was something that he had been waiting for, like his speech had been rehearsed in his mind over and over. That, or he was tired of hiding his emotions.

Little did you know that both were true. Bakugou had thought about what he would say to you in a situation like this, how he would get his point across that he had made a mistake pushing you so far away. How he was going to tell you that he wanted you in his life desperately? With these desires, he knew that he couldn’t hide a single ounce of himself from you. If he did, he would lose you, and he refused to let that happen. So, no matter how embarrassing it was, how frustrated he was at trying to find the right words, he would fumble until he caught his footing.

“I wanted this.” Bakugou gestured to their surroundings. “I wanted it more than anything. I wanted it so badly that I lost sight of something that I needed. That time with you made me happier than any of this shit that I have now. And I was stupid to not realize that back then.” He came up to stand in front of you, and by now, the burning in your eyes was uncontrollable. The instant is hands came up to caress your upper arms, you lost the slim control you had, the hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I think about it all the time. How we could have spent all these years growing together. I was selfish back then… You were right to hate me for the things I did to you. For treating you like… just an obstacle in my path. Then, and now, I don’t deserve you. But I want you. And before you snap at me, it’s not just your body. I want your laugh, your smile, your support and happiness. And I want to give you mine.”

Sniffling, you felt strangled as you tried to process his words. You could tell by the softness of his tone and his touch that he was being genuine. Bakugou, out of all people in the world, couldn’t lie without becoming a flustered mess. The truth was often even harder for him to admit, so the fact that it was coming out of his mouth so smoothly made your heart and stomach flutter. It was your turn, to tell him that you wanted all the same, but the words were lost to you. How could he admit his feelings so easily, while you were completely useless? Had you really built your wall that strong, that not even the person you loved with all your heart could get through?

“Katsuki…” You finally got through with a hiccup, only able to manage a quick glance up at him. “Did you ever love me?”

“Are you shitting me? Do you think I’d tell you all this if I didn’t? And what happened to ‘Kacchan’? Hm?” The snarky smirk that crossed his lips brought a more intense fire to your cheeks, giving a playful click of your tongue as he wiped your tears away with rough thumbs.

“I only call you Kacchan when I’m pretending to be mad at you.” After setting your drink down on the nearby desk, you placed your hands on his chest, tenderly adjusting the collar of his nice dress shirt. “After all this time you still refuse to wear ties. Even to your own company parties.”

“I hate them. I need to breathe.”

“I think you just like looking like the bad boy.” You couldn’t resist stepping in closer as his hands fell to grip your hips, the heat of his body so irresistible. “You and your tough guy facade.”

“Whatever. We both know you fucking love it.”

“I do, Katsuki.” You caressed his cheeks softly, entire body tingling with the feeling of his hands sliding up your sides. “I never hated you. Never. Maybe that makes me stupid, too… But I always knew it…”

“Knew what?” His lips were dangerously close to yours now, brushing softly as he spoke. Even his gaze was nearly crippling, already feeling your legs growing weak. He was so dangerous, so absolutely irresistible to you that there wasn’t anything you could do to control your wanting for him. Not anymore.

“That you would come back to me.”

With that, any restraint the two of you may have had was broken, lips immediately crashing into each other with a fierce and familiar passion. How long it had been didn’t matter in that moment. Bakugou knew exactly how to kiss you, how to hold your body against his and make your legs weak. The hot taste of whisky on his tongue made your entire body feel warm, starting from your core and spreading through each nerve. It was like every inch of you was on fire, the heat pooling between your legs as you couldn’t resist your arousal. Everything about him was exactly like you remembered, only… there was more.

It was obvious to you that he had grown in experience and practice, even just from this short time together. Although you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy towards the other women whom he had relations with, you knew that from this moment on, if you accepted him, it would be only you. There would never be another woman or man between you, nor any career or goals. It would be you and him together, to be everything you ever wanted. And needed.

“A-ah, Katsu--” You couldn’t resist a soft moan as his hands eagerly gripped onto your ass, even though it was immediately smothered by the kiss. His palms were so hot that you could already feel them through the fabric of your dress, only further reminding you of the things you loved about him. You didn’t know if it was because of his quirk or if it was just how his body was, but any time he got all hot and bothered, his palms would become unbelievably warm. It was never to the point that you couldn’t bare it, but it was just enough to melt you and make you crave to feel it against your bare skin. Tugging him backwards with a simple step and yank to the front of his shirt, you stumbled back until your legs hit his desk, the rattling of the ice in your drink barely registering in your feverish mind.

The loud crashing and clanking of other miscellaneous belongings falling to the floor was just as ignored by the both of you, pushed aside with a single sweep of Bakugou’s arm. In nearly the same instant, you were turned, upper body forced down onto the desk from a strong pressure between your shoulder blades. One hand firmly on your back to keep you in place, Bakugou let the other travel down your side and to your hips.

“Five years have done you a lot of favors, [Name]. Your body is fucking irresistible.”

Unable to really move, you could only support yourself on trembling legs, entire being racked with excitement and anticipation at what he would do to you next. You could feel his cock pressing into your ass from beneath his pants, and you knew damn well he was doing that on purpose. It was just another way to tease you at what you had been missing all this time and what you desperately wanted. “Are you saying it hasn’t always been?”

“Don’t be a smart ass with me. I’ve craved every inch of you…” With that, you felt the cool air of the office on your backside as your dress was pushed up to your lower back. Both strong hands moved to grope you and spread you open, an amused chuckle following. “Fuck, I can see how wet you are already. And no underwear? Were you expecting something?”

The feeling of his thumb stroking against your sex made you shudder, nibbling at your bottom lip. Even through your hose, the pleasure of his touch was irresistible, softly gasping with each stroke to your clit. “Any time I see you, I always hope that you’ll want me again. It was an impulse… not to wear underwear. I thought that… maybe ton-- a-ah!” You were cut off by a moan, surprised by the sudden hot and wet pressure against your clit. Unable to see him well, you didn’t notice that he had knelt down until he made his presence known, running his tongue along your sex with the hose still in place.

The sensation was odd at first to the both of you, but you couldn’t deny how good it felt. Even if he wasn’t on your clit directly, the cloth still grew taught against it with his movements, teasing you with just a hint of pressure. You wanted more so badly, but you knew begging wasn’t going to get you anywhere just yet. He was going to do whatever he wanted with you, and there wasn’t any point in trying to stop him, not with how badly you wanted this.

Suddenly, there was a new sensation and sound. With a firm tug and the ripping of cloth, you felt your hose loosen from your body, splitting right down the middle seam to fully expose you. Bakugou had done it with his teeth, you knew his antics well, but that didn’t mean you were any less annoyed that he just ripped your favorite hose. “Hey, Katsuki! These are my-- ooh, fuck!” You dug your nails into the wood of his desk as he began to eat your out mercilessly, gripping onto your hips to keep you still.

Turning your face more into the desk, you moaned and panted against the wood, the pleasure tingling through your body like hot sparks. Within minutes, you were brought to a leg shaking orgasm, your knees buckling. The only reason you stayed up on the desk was your upper body and Bakugou’s hands on your hips.

“Fucking hell… I’ve missed seeing you cum like that. You always cum so hard for me.” Slipping his fingers beneath the hole he had made in your hose, he ripped them just a bit more, giving him full and easier access to your wet and twitching pussy. He could have just stared at the heavenly sight for hours, watching your juices drip down your thighs and onto the floor. Never had a woman get so wet for him the way that you did, always so hot and ready to be fucked from something as simple as a kiss. While he used one hand to stroke your folds and tease your swollen clit, his other moved down to his pants, loosening his belt. “Such a good little bitch. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Y-you, Katsuki.” Body still recovering, you couldn’t resist the slight jerking of your body with his teasing of your clit.

Once his pants were unbuttoned and unzipped, Bakugou began to stroke himself to the sight of you, spreading your pussy open with his fingers. “Have you ever had someone fuck you as good as I do?”

“No, only you can make me feel so good. No other man can ever c-come close.”

“No other man will ever come close.” Standing, Bakugou pressed his tip against your waiting hole, teasingly pressing into you until you were squirming beneath him. “Now tell me what you want.”

“I-I want your cock!”

“Beg.”

“P-please, Katsuki! Please, fill me up and fuck me!”

Leaning forward, Bakugou allowed himself to slip in just slightly. He pressed his lips against your flushed cheek, smirking against your skin. He loved seeing you like this, already completely smitten and hopelessly aroused. You’d do or say anything he wanted, and he knew that being treated like this was what turned you on more than anything else. “Harder.”

His low voice in your ear made your head swim, becoming increasingly frustrated with the teasing. “I’m begging you! Please hurry up and fuck me, Katsu! My pussy is yours, please do whatever you want to me, until I’m ruined with your cum dripping down my legs! Katsu, please!” That sweet nickname flowing from your lips again after five years instantly flushed Bakugou’s chest full of a raging and familiar fire, both of his hands moving to grip tightly onto your hips.

“That’s it, babygirl.” Slowly, his cock began to fill you up, forcing a gasp from your lips as you arched your hips up into him. The soft grunt he let slip near your ear instantly almost had you cumming again, looking up at him from the corner of your eye. Vision blurry with pleasured tears, you could barely make out the furrow of his brow, though the passion in his glare was perfectly clear. You were about to be absolutely ravaged, and you couldn’t wait a second longer. But you did, soaking in the feeling of each inch vanishing within you, filling you to the brim. “You want it so bad, then take it.”

You were already trembling by the time he hissed the demand into your ear, knowing that if you weren’t lying down on the desk, your legs would have given out by now and you’d be sprawled useless on the floor. Already you could feel how full you were, his cock pulsing against your constricting walls and just itching to move. Unable to resist the urge himself, Bakugou sat up from you, hands gripping your hips tightly as he began to slowly and roughly thrust his hips. The first few thrusts of his cock inside you felt foreign, like you had almost forgotten what it was like to be fucked by him. But, very quickly, he found his rhythm, bringing back all those things you were familiar with.

The hot slapping of skin. Burning palms. Fingers with a grip so tight you knew they would bruise. Sticky liquid coating your body, from sweat to your own juices as it rolled down your legs with each aggressive thrust. Bakugou’s grunts of pleasure, mixed in with your own uncontrollable moans. A deep presence within your womb, enough to make your stomach feel full every time he sunk his cock into you. The teasing words and name calling, forcing his dominance upon you in a way that made you completely swoon.

In no time at all, you were cumming again, arching your hips up into his as you screamed and begged for the release you had so desperately missed. And then, in typical Bakugou fashion, he removed his cock from you, right on the edge of your orgasm. It faded away in a rush of tingles, and with some ounce of strength, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to glare at him over your shoulder.

“Seriously, Katsuki? You’re still into that edging shit?!”

“Into it?” Bakugou smirked, grabbing you by both arms and forcing you back up onto your feet. His cock settled between your legs, pressing into your sex as he held your body back against his. With soft, slow thrusts, you watched as his tip vanished and reappeared again, stroking against your clit. Releasing one of your arms, the other came up to grip your neck, resting his lips at your ear. “I’ve mastered it, babygirl. And don’t try to pretend that you don’t love it.”

Putting some pressure on your neck, Bakugou kissed and nibbled at the exposed skin of your shoulder. “I’ve missed seeing your expressions when you cum so hard after being edged over and over. The way your eyes roll back in your head… That crazed and satisfied smile on your lips. Your body trembling and jerking. Fuck, you’re just so damn sexy.” He used his free hand to pull the already low-cut neckline of your dress down, allowing your breasts to fall free. He increased the speed of his thrusting, giving a sigh of pleasure in your ear as he groped and massaged your breasts.

Although the thigh fucking was a much slower pace than what he had been taking just a moment before, you couldn’t resist how good it felt just to be played with. There was no effort on your part, except for somehow finding the strength to stay standing. His lips on your skin. His teeth in your flesh. His hands on your breasts. His cock between your legs. All of it was sending you into a whole new round of bliss and almost the feeling of being… worshiped. Yes, it was for his enjoyment too, but each movement he made and shifting of his hips was to bring you pleasure.

“K-Katsu,” you moaned out sweetly, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. “I can’t believe you still remember how to play with me. What my body wants and begs for.”

“I could never forget your body, [Name].” He paused for just a moment to allow his cock to slip back into your waiting pussy, watching your face as it contorted with pleasure. “Everything about it drives me fucking crazy. Not just your body, but you. All of you. I can’t stand the thought of being without you a second longer.” With a slight push from his thumb, you turned your head to meet his lips in a passionate kiss, which spurred his thrusts to go faster. He held your body back against him, one arm around your waist with the other across your chest, caressing your neck and playing with your breasts as he wished.

You felt so close to him, so wanted and adored for the first time in so many years. In that moment, you decided it wasn’t enough. You wanted him closer.

“Stop, wait--” With a slight push of your hand to his stomach, he stopped as instructed, even though confusion flashed across his face. Turning, you hopped up to sit on his desk, immediately pulling him closer and wrapping your legs around his waist. “I want to hold you, Katsu.”

Another passionate kiss was shared as he picked back up on where he had left off fucking you, but his movements became rougher and more excited. Having you in this more intimate position must have spurred on his excitement, and that wasn’t anything for you to complain about. But, for you, there was a twinge of sudden reconsideration that you hadn’t expected. It came with a sudden rush of pure emotion, a raging storm that you had tried to keep at bay.

Disbelief. Excitement. Remorse. Anger. Wanting. Fear. Passion. Love.

Love.

That’s what it was.

As you began to feel another orgasm building rapidly within you, you released your grip of your arms around his neck to instead caress his cheeks. “Katsu,” With the soft mention of his name, his gaze caught yours, though he never lost his rhythm or pace in the way he was fucking you. You knew you had to get it out before you lost control of yourself again, barely able to speak against the pleasure that was only growing. “Katsuki. I love you. I-I’ve loved you since the beginning. I w-want to do this together. To be together.”

Bakugou let his hand fall to your lower back, shifting your body closer to him to allow him in deeper. Leaning back a bit with his movement, you kept yourself propped up with one arm while the other was around his neck, clutching on tightly to the back of his shirt. At first, your eyes were drawn down to watch how he fucked you, until his words brought your eyes back up. Behind the haze of lust and pleasure, you could see it, the genuine adoration and love for you that he had been hiding all this time in fear. There was no more fear between you. Only hope and the prospect of true happiness.

“I love you, [Name]. And from now on, I won’t ever let your stupid ass forget it.” With one more kiss shared between you, he immediately increased his efforts, fucking you so hard and rough that the already abused desk began to creak. The sound of your drink falling and glass breaking across the pristine tile floor was ignored; all focus the two of you could muster only on each other.

You could feel it, building up within your core, and you couldn’t stop it from showing on your face. “F-Fuck, Katsu, I’m going to cum! Please! Please let me!”

“It’s okay, babygirl. Cum for me.” With his words whispered in ragged breath against your lips, you couldn’t hold back another moment. As the ball that had grown within you exploded, you collapsed back against the desk, your voice squeaking with the powerful onslaught of pleasure. With full access to your hips, now, Bakugou held onto them tightly, fucking you through your orgasm. To him, it was a beautiful sight, your sweaty and ravaged body completely broken and at his mercy. Bakugou never wanted to stop, but before he realized it, his need to cum was suffocating.

“[Name]...-”

Gaining a moment of lucidity from hearing your name, you peered up at him, smiling as you rested your arms up above your head. “Come inside me, Katsu--” With your permission, Bakugou immediately grew more aggressive and erratic, your moans edging him on. “Please cum inside me! Fill me up with your hot cum, Katsuki!”

Within moments, Bakugou did just that, tugging your hips against his tightly as he released inside you. It was so hot you could feel it, filling your womb and coating your still contracting walls. With his release, Bakugou let out a satisfied grunt, before sighing in absolute pleasure. From your view, he looked so worn out, sweaty with clothing and hair completely disheveled. You were sure that you looked exactly the same, but in Bakugou’s eyes, you were nothing but absolute perfection.

With his cock still pulsing inside you, he leaned himself forward, propping himself up on his elbows on either side of your body. Softly, he moved some hair out of your face before his lips met yours. It was different now, a tender kiss that made your stomach flutter like you were a little girl in love for the first time. You wrapped your arms around him, running your fingers through his hair and softly stroking his back as he showered your lips, cheeks and neck with sweet affections.

“This is what I’ve missed…” He spoke near your ear, low and calm. “This… gentle intimacy. You’re the only person I can experience it with- who I’d want to experience it with.”

“My Katsuki… Me, too.” Now, the tears began to return to your eyes, so overcome with bubbly happiness and pure love. “I never want to lose you again.”

“You won’t, [Name]. Never again.”

With another sweet kiss, you were both suddenly startled by a loud buzzing in Bakugou’s back pocket, which reverberated through your still connected bodies. With an annoyed huff, Bakugou removed himself from you and allowed you to sit up and adjust your dress back over your breasts as he grabbed his phone to check the message. “Ah fuck.”

“What is it?”

“My assistant… I’m almost thirty minutes late for my speech before the gift raffle. Well shit.”

Giggling softly, you looked down at the mess you had both made. Broken glasses, scattered office supplies, papers and even his name plaque littered the floor. “Well, at least we still kept all our clothes on.”

With a click of his tongue, Bakugou headed over towards a door, walking inside. “I still have to fucking change, I’m sweaty as fuck.” His voice echoed, so you grew curious, following him in to see that it was a whole bathroom with a shower, tub and everything else that came standard. You followed him around a corner to see that he also had a full walk in closet, making you gasp in shock.

“Damn, Katsu! Think you have enough space? Do you live here?!”

“Of fucking course I don’t.” Bakugou glowered at you, stripping off his shirt before stepping out of his pants. “I just have extra clothes.”

“Won’t people be suspicious if you come down in new cloths- oh. You have the same exact ones.”

“Always have to be prepared, [Name]. I just… don’t have an extra dress for you. Or hose. Sorry.” He smirked at you as you looked down at your legs, the hose you wore soaked with liquid and torn all the way down to your thighs. Huffing, you pushed them down before plopping yourself onto the toilet, relieving yourself as you took off your shoes.

“My dress is fine, it’s my hose that I’m upset about! These were my favorite ones!”

“I’ll buy you more. Are you taking a piss?!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t piss all over your desk, I’ve had to pee for like an hour.”

“And I still wouldn’t want you to leave.”

Smiling, you rolled the ruined hose into a ball and put them in the trash, cleaning yourself up with toilet paper. Once done, you put your shoes back on, flushed and went to wash your hands. While you were doing so, Bakugou emerged back from the closet, back dressed just as spiffy as he had been before. Coming to stand behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, giving your cheek a soft kiss. “I’m happy you’ve forgiven me, [Name]. That you want me back…”

“Of course I do, Katsuki. These few years just made me realize that… I can’t be happy without you.”

“Me, too.” After another kiss, he went to the other sink, grabbing a toothbrush and squeezing some toothpaste onto it.

Confused, you wiped your hand on a towel, before attempting to fix the mess your hair had become. “What are you doing?”

“Brushing my teeth. I can’t exactly go back to a party with my breath smelling like whisky and pussy, now can I?”

“Nah, you should. It’ll keep all those girls away.”

“You being on my arm will keep them away enough.”

“Touché. Going public already… Bring it on.”

“You got it, babygirl.”

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intruality-overlord · 4 years

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Why Are We (Best) Friends?

Warnings: Excessive swearing, alcoholism, mentions of drugs, drug use, suggestive humour, implied sexual content (no smut), some gore descriptions. Generally, Remus stuff.

Taglist: @blogging-time @veraisnotfine @littlestr @jessibbb @ibroken-butterflyi @hi-its-tutty @idkanameatall

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Chapter Three 2/2: Duck

Drowning and Itchy

October 4th, 2017.

Remus’s skin was crawling. It scraped against his muscles like a cheap woollen blanket, disturbing his tired bones beneath.

Itchy. It was a strange, unrecognisable itch that he couldn’t satisfy with his usual means. Hugging himself, he frustratedly tried to stop the grating of his nerves. Yet the itch became worse. Now it felt like worms digging through and munching away at his flesh like rotten brussel sprouts (nobody liked those but starving worms and maggots, or goody-two-shoes nerds).

Puppy, Moonshine, his sweet, sweet Apple. His head screamed, ringing in the hollow his thoughts’ absence left. The ringing echoed in his bored ears that tried to stimulate themselves. Yes, Patton would know how to fix whatever this was. Patton, his rebellious little Teddy Bear, could— will fix him.

He didn’t dawdle— not even to acknowledge how funny the word dawdle sounded— sinking down, and rising up in Patton’s room.

The familiar effects of the room half-heartedly soaked his feet like a lukewarm, lapping tide.

“Hiya, Remus. What are ya doin’ here?”

The ringing dripped out his ears like water that had been trapped since he showered last. Basking in the melody of the words, observing the natural shape of the sentence. High pitched, bouncing and slurred, in a minor key. Remus didn’t realise how much he craved his voice until then. Muscles tightly twisted around his ribs uncoiled and he breathed deeply.

“Thomas is thinking about Guys,” Patton said, not knowing what else to say. Standing rigid, his arms tied to his sides, Remus said, “Oh.” Strangling the glass neck of a bottle half empty, Patton added, “And Dolls.”

“Oh,” Remus repeated dumbly. The simple syllable sat anchored low in his throat. “Oh…”

Shoulders hunched, trying to become small and narrow, Patton hugged the bottle to his chest— Then he shook his head, opening his arms and offered the drink. But Remus impulsively took his open arms as a different form of offering, crumpling onto his lap. He tucked his head under Patton’s chin like he needed him to hold his red blotched body, quivering from overstimulation after the fog of his mind cleared— together.

And Patton bundled him in his arms.

The room’s atmosphere was humid with longing, and thick with rejection like so much perfume it stings. Remus let his heavy lids fall, fisting handfuls of Patton’s polo shirt.

Patton gave Remus a small squeeze, then hesitantly peeled his arms away. Confused, Remus only frowned, and borrowed deeper into the embrace. Circling one arm around Patton’s waist, Remus’s other crossed Patton’s back to cling to his shoulder from behind. Their chests were brought flush together. Then Remus felt Patton’s hiccuping breath shivering through his frame.

“You’re not… lea-eav-i-ing?” Patton sniffled. Sheer denial kept Patton’s glass arms, shivering from his squeaky, muted whimper, hovering above the dip of Remus’s back.

“Do you want me to?”

Shallow shuddering breaths desperately tried to dry his tear-waxed eyes. “No,” he pleaded.

“Then no.” And Patton’s collapsed into cuddling the absolute shit out of Remus. Desperate fingers dug into Remus’s shirt. A pinky innocently wandered underneath the fabric making sure Remus was there, and warm, and real, and staying.

It was bizarre to be so close to someone in such an innocent setting, for Remus. Well, perhaps not bizarre, but he wasn’t familiar with it. He could get used to it.

“You have no idea how much I needed this,” Patton whispered, sighing as his tears evaporated on his cheeks and fogged his glasses. The hot puff of breath bussed the shell of Remus’s ear. “I think… I just really needed a hug, too,” Remus admitted, nuzzling him even further. Remus hid his nose in Patton’s shoulder, and Patton hid his in Remus’s hair.

“If you ever feel like this again, you can always come to me?” Patton offered, but it sounded mostly like a request. Cold water of dread splashed Remus’s face.

Did Patton always feel this way?

“Really?” Remus asked instead.

“I’ll always be here to give you as many hugs as you want,” Patton said, and Remus could hear his watery smile, “anytime.”

They stayed together for what could have been hours or days, for all they cared. Inevitably, Patton settled his thumbs into Remus’s back dimples— Yes, he was precious, and pliant, and staying. Remus experimented with the spring of Patton’s curls. Until—

Patton felt a pulse through him, like his stomach being pulled down in an elevator. Resisting it made the contents of his stomach slosh. He shuddered.

“R-Remus.”

Unwilling to bother with proper articulation, the contented bundle in Patton’s arms gave a tiny hum. Patton hugged Remus closer when his voice didn’t work immediately. Nose grazing Patton’s chin, Remus tipped his head up ever so slightly in silent question.

“They’re trying to summon me,” he finally gulped.

“Hmpf?” Remus simultaneously startled and wilted. He steadied himself on Patton’s shoulders. “You’re going?” Remus murmured, searching his eyes. Without realising, Remus shifted so his legs also hugged him close around the hips. A protective cocoon of limbs.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can. I promise.”

Patton locked their eyes, and Remus wished his glasses weren’t in the way. He swept his fringe aside, and their eye contact broke only for Patton’s gaze to flick to Remus’s gentle hand and back. The space between seemed as far as the sun from the dark side of the moon.

And Patton slipped out beneath him as he sunk down.

Gracelessly, Remus belly flopped onto the bed without support. Patton’s shoulders were so sturdy, he noted… rather circled and underlined that already present mental note.

Not knowing what else to do, he curled up in the duvet. Aimlessly, he groped for one of Patton’s many stuffed toys. He desperately tried to retain the swiftly abandoning warmth with the fluffy substitute.

He understood, just… he was another kind of mess today.

(}ï{)

Remus had nearly fallen asleep when he felt the foundation of the room shift. It warped around, and Remus quickly checked his eyes with his phone’s camera in case he had gotten high and didn’t remember. Nope, the room was really changing around him and steadily settling into a reflection of the common room.

“Remus!” Patton popped up so quickly he overbalanced. “Puppy?” He sped across the room to see Patton’s eyes glazed like his favourite donuts— “What’s happening—”

“Shut up! You need to leave—”

“Wh—”

“The others are coming— no jokes no time— go go go quick!” He spluttered pressing on his shoulders so hard, the unstable room’s floor gave way, and he was rising up into his own room before he could wipe away the brimming, panicked tears from Patton’s reddening eyes.

They nearly got caught.

They… Thomas nearly… he hadn’t seen Roman since— What would Virgil— oh god— oh, Patton…

Remus could have ruined everything.

His itchy arms felt empty.

(}ï{)

Remus didn’t like Patton’s new cat hoodie.

(But it’s okay, Remus can learn to accept second place.)

Drunkiversary

December 25th, 2017.

I DON’T WANT A LOT FOR CHRISTMAS THERE IS JUST ONE THING I NEED.

Thump.

I DON'T CARE ABOUT THE PRESENTS UNDERNEATH THE CHRISTMAS TREE.

Thump.

I JUST WANT YOU FOR MY OWN.

Thump.

MORE THAN YOU COULD EVER KNOW.

Thump.

MAKE MY WISH COME TRUE.

Thump.

ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU!

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Maybe if Patton tried hard enough, he could burst his assaulted eardrums and end his misery. All he needed was enough kinetic energy. He already had a wall to bang his head against, but maybe he should upgrade to a hammer— or better! A—

I DON’T WANT A LOT FOR CHRISTMAS—

Wine bottles littered at Patton’s feet (damn that weak, cheap, shit Thomas bought) obscured the plush carpet beneath that his toes curled and dug into. Their glossy surfaces glared at him. Patton would scream at Roman to shut the fuck up if he was coherent. (Whether he was incoherent from drinking or a concussion, it was a mystery.) As it was, all he could do was rip out the carpet fibers with his toes and—

SANTA CLAUSE WON’T MAKE ME HAPPY.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Would the thick glass bottles be more effective than the wall? Patton wondered, as he tried scrounging up the motivation to convince his arms to budge.

WHAT MORE CAN I DO.

Thump. Thump.

They were going to have a secret Santa together. Patton thought they were going to have dinner, complete with turkey no one actually liked, build gingerbread houses, open Christmas crackers, play card games and monopoly together. Patton thought they were going to drink eggnog together. Patton thought they were going to spend Christmas together.

They had a secret Santa.

And that was it.

LAUGHTER FILLS THE AIR.

Thump… Thump-p-p.

One last pathetic thump like a bouncing tennis ball losing momentum. Alcohol settling more into his system, Patton gave up. He slid down the wall like a hose with its water supply cut off. Screaming, that translated into a sad gurgle, tripped on his teeth.

“Oh, fu— Pat, buddy.”

THE ONE I REALLY NEED.

Bottles clinked together as Remus waded through them. Blasphemy and profanity squeezed betwixt his tense lips like lemon juice. To Patton’s ears, they tasted like the sweetest lemonade.

“Aw, big guy…” Remus murmured, surveying the damage. Patton made a vague noise of disagreement. Settling a hand on his shoulder, Remus crouched down beside him. “Yes, I know you’re short. Doesn’t mean you’re not big in other respects…” he teased with a weak grin. Patton made a louder slightly less vague noise of disagreement. “I’m not calling you fat, you know that,” Remus squawked like an indignant seagull. What an accusation— for Patton to think— what kind of friend did he take him for? A fraud? “Broad shouldered, sure,” he said. “Though, still, not what I meant. Anyway.”

Remus’s suffering smile slipped. Only the corner of his mouth hung on, leaving a minuscule smirk.

(Blearily, Patton noted how Remus was wearing a very amateur, very familiar scarf. That mental note fluttered from his grasp as soon as he mentally wrote it.)

“I got something for you,” Remus eventually said, presenting a blanket to him. The warmest, fluffiest blanket he could imagine.

In Patton’s floating mind, he forgot what colours were, but there were a lot of them. Lots and lots of colours and Patton called them all yellow, for now, since that’s all he remembered. All the many shades of yellow swirled together in intricate patterns, but his eyes were swimming too much to decipher it.

Suddenly, Patton was being swaddled with the blanket— Oh fuck, he realised, it wasn’t the warmest, fluffiest blanket he could imagine. No, it was incomprehensibly warm and fluffy.

Remus wrapped Patton in an extra layer, his amorous arms, and held him snuggly to his beaten, rickety chest. Excitedly, his heart nudged and poked at Patton’s tenderised head. “I’m here,” Remus’s voice was a wisp of steam from a marshmallow piled hot chocolate, “I’m here. You’re not alone, I’m here.” A sugar coated plume of fluffy steam, “See?”

Remus’s trembling tickled Patton as he gave him a grounding squeeze.

“D-don’t,” Remus stammered. Misty eyed, words drowning, “Don’t… don—” he expelled his shivering with a steadying sigh. “You’re not allowed to give up.”

Oh Remus, of course he was always there for Patton.

“I care. You hear me?”

Tears tottered over Patton’s eyelashes. He didn’t even have a Christmas sweater to give Remus.

I DON’T WANT A LOT—

Remus wasn’t exactly what Patton had expected to get— or, heck— fucking hell, deserved even, for a friend. But he was fucking grateful for him.

BABY ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU.

(}ï{)

The blanket didn’t have any yellow, Patton later discovered the next day. With his pounding heachache, he convinced himself it wasn’t worth it to facepalm. It was truly a water marble design of blues, greens, and grays. Patton loved it, and still couldn’t comprehend how warm and fluffy it was.

Next Chapter:

#WAW(B)F?#sander sides #thomas sanders #ts sander sides #sanders sides #patton sanders #ts patton #remus sanders #ts remus #intruality #moduke #angst #hurt/comfort

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Vigilantes Chapters 59 - 65: Emergency Catch-Up Blog

before I start, please be advised that the following post will contain a potential MAJOR SPOILER FOR CHAPTER 253, which has not yet been released! please don’t be an idiot like me and spoil yourselves, guys. stay safe.

but anyways yes, this is my recap post for Those Chapters of Vigilantes. at long last. hooray! by the way this is barely edited at all, on account of it being a rush job (see re: the “Emergency” bit in the header). just some raw, unfiltered, [CENSORED SPOILER THING] thoughts and feelings! hopefully it’s readable; when I have more time I’ll try and clean it up a bit more.

so now, first off, credit where credit is due because omg

bless you anon, you saved my life

but let me backtrack! looool so guys, I did a dumb thing and peeked at a spoiler, and read the name “Shirakumo”, and was like FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK and noped out, but it was too late lol. so then I was like “HOW DO I CATCH UP ON THE ENTIRETY OF VIGILANTES IN LESS THAN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS”, fully aware that I probably wasn’t going to do shit and would most likely just spend tomorrow apologizing and shrugging my way through the new chapter. and by the way guys, I’ll go ahead and throw in one of those apologies now, because I’ve had at least a dozen anons implore me to pick up Vigilantes, and I’m fully aware that Aizawa’s past has been covered (including one (1) cloudy boi), and that it’s really good. I just haven’t had the energy to do it! because reading and liveblogging are two very different things, and the latter just takes so much more time and energy honestly. so I kept putting it off and off and off, and now here I am

but then this ask came along telling me exactly which chapters to read in order to get the context I need! so seriously anon, you are the MVP of my week, and I appreciate this so, so much. I am now off to read those chapters, and I apologize to everyone again, but while I will liveblog them, it’ll probably be kind of a rush job due to the circumstances. like I won’t get into every single detail here, because it’s six whole chapters. but I’ll do my best

hmm I don’t know what constitutes the second half of chapter 59 lol so here I am reading the whole damn thing

AIZAWA BEING FRIENDS WITH MIDNIGHT, AND MIDNIGHT HAS A CAT OH GOSH

looool

personally, Aizawa hated school. he would never ever dream of becoming a teacher. how ridiculous. irrational af

“we’ll have you teaching at U.A. soon enough” psssh. not this man, sister

he’s hanging up on her now. honestly I am glad I did not skip the first part of this chapter lol

some wolfman is chasing the protag of this series whose name I forgot, as well as a little girl and ANOTHER CAT. this series has so many cats?! apparently!?

Aizawa is saving the cat. the hero we deserve

the protag whose name I am about to look up wants to adopt the cat, which prompts Aizawa to launch into a 2500-word essay on why he should not adopt the cat

okay the kid’s name is Koichi. he’s apparently 19 in the series, but I don’t know how old he is in this particular scene though because I have the vague impression that the series at large takes place in present-day BnHA time, which would mean this is definitely a flashback. so. ??

OHO, NOW IT’S A FLASHBACK WITHIN A FLASHBACK!!? so this is the Aizawa past thing everyone’s been all “!!!!” about. well here you go guys

young Shouta is staring at an abandoned kitty in a box in the rain

he left the cat, but also left his umbrella over it, awww

and he arrived at class all wet. and his teacher says he can go change his clothes, but he’s all “NAH I’M EMO SO I’LL JUST STAY LIKE THIS”, wow

“I’m powerless” jesus christ Shou get a grip

here comes Present Mic to forcibly lift his best bud’s spirits. they’re in second year apparently

Present Mic, and I mean this in the most loving and affectionate way possible, is the most annoying man on the planet

how was he not just constantly punched in the face at all times. like constantly walking around being punched by people

well well well

something horrible is sure going to happen to you, isn’t it? here I thought you were probably dead, but I’m kinda getting the inkling [SPOILERS, FOLKS, I’M SERIOUS] you’re gonna maybe show up in the latest chapter of the main series, so I guess not! congratulations I guess?? OR MAYBE NOT

“dammit Shirakumo” oh so it’s like that

their teacher deserves a raise. never thought we’d see another U.A. faculty member more done with life than Aizawa himself

hey Shirakumo is giving Shouta his umbrella back, but what about the cat?! SHIRAKUMO ARE YOU REALLY A NICE GUY, I’M NOT SURE YET

meanwhile he’s stripping naked in the middle of class. oh yes. I forgot Vigilantes was like this

he’s using his cloud quirk to censor himself where it counts

“and inside this cloud... is this charming little creature” lol we think he’s talking about his penis but then he pulls out the cat! WELL NEVER MIND THEN SHIRAKUMO

so Shouta is sitting around thinking emo thoughts that are gradually giving way to some decidedly un-hetero thoughts about Shirakumo, who’s doing that shounen thing where he smiles with his eyes closed while being silhouetted against the bright sun. maaaaan. Aizawa you are hella gay my dude

okay next chapter and they’re being assigned internships

Shirakumo’s hero costume is... well let’s just say it’s a good thing he’s got such a badass quirk

he’s riding around on that cloud like Goku. like a fucking Lakitu from Super Mario

now the teachers are talking about the three boys and whether they’ll be able to land internships

“Yamada shouldn’t have a problem. his voice quirk has applications in battle, rescue, and entertainment. but the boy’s a bit distractible.” okay first of all how the hell would Mic ever rescue a person with his quirk. fucking scream them to safety or what. and second, by distractible you mean punchable right. again, all the love

oh my god he’s so cute

lmao this is seriously my favorite picture of Aizawa ever. GO GETTEM SLUGGER

so Shouta is getting bullied by some guy with a decidedly Katsuki-ish quirk, except he shoots jets of fire out of his hands. but anyway he says that fighting Shouta is boring. SHUT UP, YOU. YOU’RE BORING

Shouta is so emo. but he really does want to be a good hero, he just doesn’t know how. he seems very frustrated

he’s lecturing Kumo on not giving people-food to the cat. and now he has picked up the cat and is cradling and bottle-feeding it like an infant. bless

this manga really has a gag panel of the cat pissing on Shirakumo afterwards, like. see this is another reason why I haven’t exactly been in a rush to read it sob. my sense of humor doesn’t really seem to align with Furuhashi’s

oH MY GOD

high school Midnight is the coolest person I have ever seen and I want to be just like her when I grow up

aaaaand she is literally not wearing any clothes except that belt and those boob-holsters. which, I mean, it’s not like she really dresses any differently in the main series, but this being Vigilantes, I’m sure we’ll get another half a dozen pages showing extreme close-ups of her costume from various angles. again, another area where this series and I don’t quite see eye to eye, but it’s all right since we’re just passing through here

and one year later they wrote a literal law limiting how much exposed skin a hero costume can show. oh Midnight. meanwhile I forgot how much this series makes me appreciate Horikoshi, flaws and all. I’ll take a thousand Minetas over this shit honestly. at least Mineta always gets his comeuppance. but anyway

they have named the cat “Sushi”

Midnight is straight up taking the cat lmao

Yamada got an internship. one down, two to go

Midnight’s back and showing them a video of the cat pooping. one joke about the cat’s bathroom habits in a single chapter was not enough, we’re going for two. not like we have anything more important to cover, like Aizawa getting an internship and something terrible and tragic happening to his boyfriend. let’s just keep talking about cat poop

okay here we go, Midnight says her boss will take them as interns

“Loud Cloud” lmao. home run hero name. GOAT

so Shouta’s chasing a villain and nearly got crushed by a safe that he threw at him, but he’s being saved by some guy who I’m guessing is his boss

oh my

this is the kind of weirdness that only a manga can get away with. I wonder how this idea came into being and whose idea it was, Horikoshi’s or Furuhashi’s. maybe the two of them hitting each other up back and forth in a text chain. “so I’m doing Aizawa’s flashback now, who do you want to have him to intern under?” “hmm I don’t know but I was thinking literally Prince”

Prince is chewing Shouta out something fierce

I thought I was prepared for these Aizawa flashbacks, but some things you can never be prepared for

lol he asked Shouta how he fucked up, and Shouta started listing all of his tactical errors, and Prince interrupted him and is all “I’M TALKIN’ ‘BOUT THAT GLOOMY FACE” listen son just who do you think your intern is. THAT’S JUST HIS FACE LEAVE HIM ALONE

he says Aizawa wears his stress all over his sleeve and bums people out

he’s telling him to smile! now where have we heard that philosophy before

hello

I’m just reblogging this panel because of reasons

so Shouta is sulking in the locker room, and Shirakumo is showering off and says his MO is to keep smiling even when he screws up

now Midnight is texting Shouta 500 cat pictures

lmao we can’t see Shouta’s face, but Kumo is streaking in and is all “THERE’S THAT SMILE, SUNSHINE!!!!”

OH SHIT NOW IT’S A FEW DAYS LATER AND THE VILLAIN IS BACK BUT THIS TIME SHOUTA DONE GOT HIM SOME GOGGLES!! the path from adorable to sexy begins. the Longbottoming

oh shit the goggles belong to Shirakumo. the gayening. and they were roommates

Shouta’s using his quirk!

and the bad guy is all “I don’t need my quirk to crush you” and straight up demolishing the fucking pavement yikes

and Kumo is leaping at him from above and whomping him on the head

yay they caught him. and Shouta is...

he’s trying. they’ll coax a real smile out of him yet! just show him a Youtube compilation of Logical Ruses

now he and Shirakumo have matching pairs of goggles. I’m just gonna assume this means they are married

the fire hands bully guy from earlier is coming over to start some shit again

he says he also realized the importance of eye protection through his internship. and Mic says he stole the idea from him

now the class is partnering off for two-on-two battle training, and Kumo is partnering with Shouta

they’re going up against Mic and Fire Hands, and for some reason they’re making a wager of it. whoever loses has to stop wearing glasses. this is easily the stupidest thing I have seen in this series yet, not to mention the most accurate

Kumo’s grinning at Shouta and saying the goggles symbolize their friendship and they have to defend them. you know, lovable scamp stuff

now Shirakumo and Shouta are double teaming the Fire Hands guy and taking him out in seconds because OF COURSE THEY DID. lol he never fucking stood a chance

but Shouta’s handing the glasses back and says that two-on-one isn’t fair so he’s calling the wager off

aaaand Fire Hands is snatching them back and stomping on them. and says he doesn’t need them

listen you dingus, yes you do fucking need them. and also he says he didn’t lose! wow this guy really has his head up his ass. I’d say he reminds me of a CERTAIN SOMEONE, but you know what, I’ll give Mr. Certain Someone his fair credit though, because he managed to get his shit together long before his second year. Fire Hands still needs to grow up

the teacher is telling him he missed the point of the exercise, and FH is literally ignoring him and running off wow

apparently Mic also gave up his sunglasses and got himself a pair of goggles. well we know that’s not gonna last. and for that matter, Shouta’s gonna change out his goggles for a different model as well. ohhhhh some tragedy is on the horizon I just know it, this is gonna hurt

Shirakumo says the three of them should start their own agency. ahhh. buddy I’m here reading this from the future, and I gotta tell you, son... shit’s awkward as fuck

and he’s pointing out all the different ways they complement each other’s strengths and weaknesses

Shouta says he can’t do anything on his own, but Kumo says that just means he’s suited to teamwork

Kumo’s inviting Midnight to join them, but she’s declining lol

Shouta’s looking at the sky all dramatically. oh baby this is it isn’t it. things are about to get rough

“one week later”

NOO THEY HURT MY PRECIOUS PRINCE

SOMEONE IS CALLING FOR BACKUP AND THE CAMERA IS ZOOMING IN ON A BUSTED UP PAIR OF GOGGLES, FUCK EVERYTHING

now we’re cutting to Mic and Fire Hands and FH replaced his sunglasses with a pair of goggles. goggles are just the in thing now

Fire Hands talks about Aizawa so much I’m starting to ship the two of them now as well. damn Shouta how many high school boyfriends did you have??

so they’re fighting off some toad monster and it’s absorbing all their attacks

meanwhile Shouta and Kumo are literally helping kindergartners to cross the street

look at this

it’s beyond my comprehension how anyone could possibly mistake this man for anything but a future teacher

even Kumo is commenting on how natural he is at working with kids

oH MY GOD the kids waved goodbye and said “bye Eraserhead” and it prompted a little smile

Kumo says Shouta psychs himself out and convinces himself he can’t do stuff, but really he can do just about anything if he puts his mind to it. aww. and he’s right!!

oh shit here comes the toad

so this toad’s name is Garvey, and he’s literally wanted for murder oh shit. and he has a Fatgum-like quirk that can absorb attacks and store them up to release them

and some idiots hit him with a combined attack that ended up powering him the fuck up. well shit

so Prince is placing a rose in between his teeth and getting ready to fight this toad off. do it I believe in you

now a lot is happening all at once, jesus. Shouta and Kumo were trying to evacuate the kids but then the toad just appeared right there like wtf, and then Prince also showed up out of nowhere and went to hit the thing with a flying jump kick

aaaand he’s getting blasted into a building

oof. and getting even further blasted now. welp

Kumo’s protecting the kiddos with his Nimbus quirk!

OH FUCKING SHIT AND THEN HE GOT CRACKED IN THE HEAD BY A GIANT FALLING ROCK

is this bitch fucking dead now. I can’t believe they fucking Obitoed my bro Shirakumo

so now the toad is looming over them, and Shouta realizes he’s the only one left standing, and all his doubts are filtering into his mind as he desperately tries to think of how to stop him

and Shirakumo’s... gourd... thing... is klunking in out of nowhere, and it has a little speaker on it, and it’s all “YOU GOT THIS AIZAWA” and wtf. this is like something out of a weird fever dream

OH SHIT BOYS AIZAWA SHOUTA DONE GOT HIS GAME FACE ON NOW

THE LONGBOTTOMING CONTINUES

so now he’s leaping fifty feet into the air, somehow, and thinking that his Erasure quirk will at least level the playing field. well all right then! you go boy

now it’s raining and of course bolts of lightning are dramatically hitting the ground all around them

Shouta’s kicking off the lil power toad lumps one by one lol

literally just jumping all around and kickin’ stuff

oof he took a bad hit. but he’s sitting back up!

Kumo’s disembodied gourd voice keeps shouting encouragement at him though, idk. so there’s that

he says Shouta’s strong and he won’t lose, and Shouta is all “RAHHHHHHH.” you guys, if 1-A ever found out about this flashback they would never let the man live it down. hell I’m not gonna let him live it down. okay then. Mr. RAHHHHHH

he’s doing some weird stuff with his capture weapon now. I think maybe he grabbed a rock with it and chucked it at the guy

and now the guy is shooting all his toad lumps at Shouta all at once! WELL ALL RIGHT THEN

yooooo Shouta literally grabbed them all with the capture weapon and he’s CHUCKIN’ EM ALL INTO THE DUDE’S MOUTH Y’ALL THIS IS SOME REAL FUCKING SHIT LMAO GET WRECKED

so the guy is blowing up from the inside out. yeah that’s what you get for murdering Shouta’s childhood friend you piece of shit

and Shouta’s collapsing in exhaustion but happily shouting “SHIRAKUMO I DID IT” before he passes out. oh my god don’t tell me Kumo is already dead and Shouta just hallucinated his voice or some shit. THEN WHO WAS GOURD omg

oooooof here we go

[places both hands on Shouta’s shoulders and looks him dead in the eye] son I don’t know how to tell you this, but Shirakumo has been dead for twenty years

wow can someone just fucking tell Shouta already so he stops depressing everyone and making an idiot out of himself. geez how long are you all gonna stand around despondently shooting knowing looks at each other in the rain

so they’re picking up the gourd speaker thing and OF COURSE it’s visibly broken and there’s no possible way Kumo’s voice could have been coming out of it. especially since he has been dead for twenty years. here’s a picture of his grave. oh shit what’s that little grave right next to his?? OH MY GOD IT’S THE CAT. OH MY GOD

oh fuck me

Y’ALL REALLY DID THESE BABIES LIKE THAT. HORIKOSHI!! FURUHASHI!! GET OVER HERE RIGHT NOW I WANT A WORD!!

so now Fire Hands, who is trying his best to be comforting but is just SO BAD AT IT, is all “Aizawa you went toe to toe with this thing and beat it YOURSELF!! ALL ALONE!!!” jesus christ I need a minute

OH DAMN A CALLBACK TO THE RAIN “THIS KINDA FITS OUR VIBE RIGHT NOW” LINE but now it’s saaaaaaaad oh no

I mean. I knew going in that this was going to be Aizawa’s sad childhood flashback about his friend Shirakumo whom something very terrible happened to. it’s not like I’m even surprised. I knew what I was getting myself into here. but damn that still hurts

do you guys think that having a permanent image of his best friend forever immortalized as a cheerful seventeen-year-old, and being forever haunted by the memory of that seventeen-year-old being cut down in the prime of his life, might have given Aizawa Shouta lasting trauma which carried over into his adulthood and makes him do desperately reckless things when children are at risk, such as leaping into battle against an army of villains all alone. dammit now I want to grab every single problem child of 1-A and shake them roughly and scream at them for all the sleepless nights they have doubtless caused this man

so now here he and Mic are both being sad

aww Mic. I’m sorry I keep wanting to punch you in the face. it’s just reflex

and now it’s one year later and the class is gearing up for the sports festival

well look who is almost fully done with his metamorphosis

you will soon be a beautiful butterfly

he is literally going to sleep in the middle of class. well depression makes people tired. sigh

he’s got his familiar goggles now! and he’s kicking FH’s ass and lecturing him on how to fight better. damn his character development is complete

and he’s helping FH to his feet aww. definitely boyfriends. this man gets around

his teachers now say that Shouta has gotten too complacent, if anything, and phones everything in once he knows he’s got a passing grade, and only gets passionate when it comes to practical exercises

and now we’re cutting to the gym and Shouta is indeed training passionately while Mic sits in the corner looking bummed. all these kids have been through far too much in their young lives

Shouta’s handing in his career aspiration form, and he wrote that he wants to start his own agency and focus on “fighting, and nothing else”

his scruffy facial hair is already starting to come in now. it’s true what they say, having a tragic past does indeed make you hotter

anyways but can we get this boy a hug!? anybody?? hello??!?

now they’re graduating and Shouta is disappearing in a poof of smoke and now there’s this big panel with flashbacks to his career up to the current point in Vigilantes!

and we’re back in the ~present~ and he’s telling Koichi to take good care of that cat. aaaand, I guess that’s that. geez. that was a lot

so there you go! the Aizawa flashbacks! they were very sad! all in all I really enjoyed them! so now, if Shirakumo isn’t actually dead (seeing as it’s a shounen manga that pays homage to comic books, so safe to say that People Not Actually Being Dead is a Certified Phenomenon, like it’s definitely a THING THAT CAN SOMETIMES HAPPEN), well then. tomorrow’s chapter is sure going to be interesting to say the least. lulz but maybe I’ve got it all wrong though. guess I’ll find out!

#bnha 253 #bnha vigilantes #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #shirakumo oboro #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha vigilantes spoilers #makeste reads bnha #makeste reads vigilantes #the real question is what the hell ever happened to this prince guy #I refuse to believe he just disappeared off the face of the earth #how is he not a top ten hero #probably because he got knocked out by the toad villain in like two seconds #and his sixteen-year-old intern had to save his fabulous behind #well hats off to a legend #wherever he is now

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buckysforeverprincess · 4 years

Text

Darkness Falls Within

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers x Winter Soldier, Stucky

Words: 1608

Warnings: Depression, angst, loneliness

A/N: Hello friends! I was listening to music (shocker!) and heard this song and it immediately spoke to me and I came up with a angsty Stucky fic. It’s based on “Waking Up Beside You” by Stabbing Westward and you’ll find the lyrics are bold and italicized. Also there is a picture in the pic by @0-ves-0. I tried to reach out for permission but they haven’t been active since 2017. I’m still giving credit to them anyway for all their creativity! I hope you all enjoy!

Huffing out a breath, Steve looks down at the mattress, an unfamiliar chill running down his spine. The sheets are still crumpled, a sign he hadn’t been alone in bed before he’d left, but the body that’d been there was gone. Left without a trace like a thief in the night, taking with it the last piece of sanity he was clinging to. Once again asking himself what the fuck he had done wrong. Why wasn’t he worth staying for?

I've been alone for so long Forgotten by the world forgotten to myself Your effervescent eyes have awakened me And brushed the dust away But I knew you'd never stay

Steve left the apartment, the memories too fresh and he felt the walls were closing in on him. It’d been a month. He was pretty sure Bucky wasn’t coming back, no word from Sam or Clint, all leads on his whereabouts going cold. If the Winter Soldier didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t, but Steve couldn’t let it go. He ached for his return.

Their last night together played on repeat in his mind as he walked the lonely streets, the midnight hour’s close at hand. He recalls the moans he made as Bucky entered him, making love at a steady pace, Steve chanting Bucky’s name like a prayer. It was intoxicating, all consuming. Neither one of them could get enough of each other, Steve thinking he’d finally have his forever, Bucky by his side and in his bed. In that final night together, he never thought it would all be a memory, fading like so much of his past.

So I memorized the color of your eyes As I lost myself inside you I memorized the way our legs entwined As I drifted off beside you

Bucky was everywhere Steve looked. A glance through a window saw familiar blue eyes staring back at him. Every male brunette carried his signature smile and cleft chin. Sometimes he thought he could smell him, his scent filling his lungs like a lifeline, giving him oxygen to breathe. There was no escaping his mind, he was falling into an abyss with no hope of rescue, Bucky the only cure for his insanity.

I miss, God I miss

Waking up beside you

Two months had passed, all traces of Bucky gone. Steve lay in the bed, curled in a ball, his eyes red as the tears fell to the pillow. The bed smelled of must and stale sex, the sheets never changed after Bucky left.

Steve really should’ve known, could’ve placed a bet on it, really. Bucky was a creature of habit. No amount of passion and love confessions would ever change him. How many times had Bucky left his side? Too many to count, so he really has no one to blame but himself. The Winter Soldier would never let Bucky be happy. He’d just continue to take and take, until there was nothing left of the man Steve was desperately in love with. He’d take until Bucky Barnes was no more.

At night I cling to you I'm so afraid Afraid the day will come And I'll wake up and find you gone But you promise that you'd not abandon me And kissed my fears away But I woke up to that day

Maybe it was paranoia, the hairs on his neck always standing up, feeling eyes watching his every move. His stomach would sink when he walked through the streets of Brooklyn alone, looking around thinking he’d catch a glimpse of Bucky, but it wasn’t meant to be. No matter how much he tried to reason with himself, his brain wouldn’t shut off and let reality sink in. The love of his life was gone, only God knows when and if, he’d return.

Hydra could reach out and grab him, hold him captive for all eternity and he’d just let it happen. It was better to feel something, even pain, than nothing at all. Steve was empty without Bucky, there was nothingness inside practically seeping from his pores. The only thing that could light the spark had fallen off the face of the earth leaving Steve dead and dying a little more each day.

But I had memorized the way our eyes would meet Reflected in the bathroom mirror And I memorized your naked silhouette As you slowly brushed your hair

Standing at the bathroom sink, he looked in the mirror, not recognizing the man staring back at him.

“You look like shit.”

Steve nods at the reflection behind him in the mirror, the blue eyes piercing into his soul, seeing all his secrets.

“You’re supposed to be taking better care of yourself.”

Steve shrugs and looks down at the bowl, the running water creeping up, threaten to spill over.

“Why Steve? Why can’t you just let me go? Move on with your life...be happy?”

Steve closes his eyes, his subconscious fucking with his reality.

“I was happy with you…,” he whispers.

He feels familiar rough lips kiss his cheek, a single tear escaping his eye and falling down his face.

“The soldier isn’t meant to be happy.”

His eyes open and he turns around, alone in the room just like he’d been, water now flowing from the sink to the floor. Steve’s knees give out and he crumbles to the ground, sitting on the water-logged floor. He brings his knees to his chest and begins to rock back and forth, crying like he had so many times before, the pain becoming more and more unbearable as time goes on. Nothing he does dulls the pain and he’s resigned himself to knowing this is how he will spend the rest of his life, broken and alone. Captain America brought to ruin by one James Buchanan Barnes.

I miss, God I miss

Waking up beside you

The Soldier stands in the room, staring down at the bed, watching the blond sleep. A pull in his body wants to reach out and touch the man, his fingers start to gravitate towards him, but he hesitates and pulls back. No! This is not him. Soldat can never have nice things and he knows deep inside this is something nice. Something he wants to covet and keep all to himself.

The voice deep within him is begging him to stay, “this is our home, our bed...our Steve.” He shakes his head. Steve. My mission. My…

I've been alone for so long I forgot how much it hurts

To wake up so alone

Soldat creeps through the apartment, his flesh fingers touching some of the odds and ends the Captain has laid out. It feels familiar, like he belongs here in this place, but it’s not his home. It can’t be. The Soldier doesn’t have a home. He has a base and cold. Soldat only feels cold. So why, looking around this place, does he feel warm? And why is that voice screaming at him, telling him to let the bad go and climb into bed with the mission?

A picture on a shelf draws his attention, the Soldat stopping in his tracks.

(Credit to @0-ves-0)

He stares at it, his steel blue eyes starting to soften. He knows one of them, his mission. His hair is darker than it is now and the clean-shaven man he has encountered has grown a beard, but he knows it’s the Captain. Why else would the picture be here in his apartment if it wasn’t him?

What draws Soldat in is the face of the other man. The man staring back at him in the picture frame shares the same face as him, except with more emotion. The two men look happy. Soldat isn’t meant to be happy, so why is the voice in his head screaming at him? And why is he compelled to listen? Why does he feel like he belongs here? And why wasn’t he paying attention enough to hear the mission walk into the room and stop dead in his tracks?

But I memorized how warm your body felt As you lay half asleep beside me And I memorized the way the sunlight filled the room And played upon your body

“Bucky?” Steve’s pinching himself, a silent prayer being said so he won’t wake from his dream.

“Soldat.” He replies and draws his gun, pointing it in his direction.

“Bucky, you know me...please…,” Steve begs and steps forward.

“I…,”

Steve smiles hoping for a change in Bucky’s demeanor. He watches as the Soldat lowers his gun and drops his shoulders. He moves closer to his love and can see the moment when the recognition and memories come flooding back.

“Steve…,” Bucky drops to his knees.

The Captain hurries over and scoops him up, wrapping his arms around him.

“Bucky.”

“Stevie...oh, God…”

“Shhh… it’s okay...you’re home.” Steve rocks him back and forth, tears falling from his eyes as he holds the man.

“I couldn’t...I tried…he wouldn’t let me go.” Bucky tries to explain.

“It doesn’t matter now...I’ve got you and I’m never letting you go.”

“Soldat isn’t meant to be happy…,” Bucky begins to explain, “...but I had to come here, had to try to get him to see...I don’t want to be him anymore, Stevie...I’m so empty without you.”

“My world was dark without you.” Steve pulls them down to the floor, their bodies now laying side by side. “Just promise me you’ll never leave again. Please Bucky? Promise me you’ll fight through whatever life throws our way.

“I promise.”

The Soldat’s smile is concealed by the grip of Steve’s body around him.

I miss, God I miss

Waking up beside you

Forever Tags:

@caplanreads @the-real-kellymonster @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @kruscht @v-2bucky @palaiasaurus64 @breezy1415 @amandaoftherosemire @sarahp879 @supernaturaldean67 @averyrogers83 @winters-beauty @scarlettsoldier @lovely-geek @titty-teetee @suz-123 @malfoysqueen14 @callmebucky-doll @ronnie248-blog @alyssaj23 @drakelover78 @thisismysecrethappyplace @geeksareunique @childishhoebinoo @thesassmisstress @brieannakeogh @peaceinourtime82 @theoneanna @leosandbuckysgirl @coal000 @the-goddess-of-mischief @mychemicalimagines @thirsty-hoes-central @awkwardfangirl2014 @strangenerdsstuff @sea040561 @marvelobsessedteen @capnbuck-tiltheend-oftheline @thefandomplace @collette04 @nishanki1 @notyourtypicalrose @jamielea81 @onebatch--twobatch @courtmr @emelody @miraclesoflove @kcd15 @clarysthing @crist1216 @yknott81 @babypink224221 @xxloki81xx @death-unbecomes-you @ellaprime68 @littlemarvelfics @thatfanficstuff @hotoffthepressfics @chuuulip @dj-lowkey @shield-agent78 @unlikelygalaxygiver @viarogers @dtftheavengers @firstangeldragonranch @southernbell91 @lancetuckershairgel

#stucky #Steve Rogers x James Barnes #Steve Rogers x Winter Soldier #Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #James Barnes #James Bucky Barnes #the winter soldier #song fic #waking up beside you #stabbing westward #marvel #marvel characters #angst #depression #lonliness

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foolgobi65 · 4 years

Text

yeh rishtaa kya kehlataa hain

@allegoriesinmediasres asked for: Rama/Sita, travel!AU, friends to lovers, “you confuse me”

as usual, this is completely unedited and thus is probably chock full of grammar errors, bad characterization, and terrible pacing. but! it was fun to write on my end so as always if u want me to rewrite it I’d be glad to lmaoo. it’s super super super cheesy at the end...like the whole third bit is just super cliche but w/e i love cliche romance its all good lol. anyways, i hope you like it at least a little!! thank you so much for the prompt <3 <3 <3

if you’d like to send me an au prompt from this list, please do!!

(title is from a lovely ar rahman song from the movie meenaxi, and also apparently a hindi soap, meaning “what is this relationship called?” )

---

It’s been two weeks since the Raghuvanshi Group put out a notice that nearly brought the Indian manufacturing industry to its knees: Ramachandra, eldest son of Dasaratha Raghuvanshi and anointed heir since his very first breath, has been stripped of his VP positions within the company, his stock options, even his entrance card. The gossip blogs report that Ramachandra has lost access to the family accounts and family property, have posted pictures of the young man once posed to be the next titan of Indian Industry at a local branch of the Bank of India, handing over what is rumoured to be his great-grandfather’s watch as a starting sum so that he can get his own personal account.

Bharata, three years Rama’s junior, is still in the United States working on his MBA: he has not yet been told of his brother’s effective exile from the family, nor of his own subsequent ascension to the position of CEO-in-waiting. Twins Lakshmana and Shatrugana, five years younger, are in London having just begun their undergraduate degrees. It was interesting, people used to say, that of the brothers it was only Rama who stayed in India. Rama who attended every company party and toured factories, solemnly noting down worker complaints on the weekends he could spare from his studies, in all respects the near exact opposite of his father whose four children are the sons of three women.

Four days after the company announced its decision, Ramachandra disappeared from the public eye. It takes ten days, but Janaki eventually tracks down enough public and private conjecture to find him in a housing colony nearly an hour long ride from Ayodhya, the Raghuvanshi family home in the center of the city. The door opens, and Janaki greets the man who can only be Sumantra, Dasaratha’s long-loyal driver who had apparently left the same day as it’s once shining son.

“Hello!” she says, palms folded and motorcycle helmets dangling by their straps from her wrists, “I’m a friend of Ram. Is he at home?”

The door closes almost entirely. “Why would sir be found here,” Janaki hears from the gap, as Sumantra hooks the metal chain that would prevent her from barging in even if she was strong enough to shove aside a man nearly 50 pounds heavier than herself. “He is a very rich man’s son, and I am only a driver.”

Janaki frowns. “No one is ever ‘only’ anything Sumantra-ji, we all do some type of work in order to live, and not one of these jobs is better or worse than another.”

From behind the door, she hears the sharp exhalation that could almost be a snort from someone more given to expressing his own feelings. Janaki was right, then, Ramachandra Raghuvanshi who grew up on one of the most expensive properties in India has sought refuge in a home he could have bought on a moment’s whim only two weeks before. The chain rattles, and the door opens wide.

“Janaki Videha,” Rama says, and suddenly it is four years ago and Janaki is again a student politician stuck in a hospital bed after a bad encounter with the police, flipping through notes meticulously taken by a classmate who insists on anonymity but could only possibly be the lanky, nearly silent boy that everyone knows will one day be one of the richest men in India.

Normally, a person seeing an old acquaintance after a few years would speak their name, then utter some platitude about how long it has been since they last met and invite them inside to catch up. Rama, who is only capable of erudition in front of men his father wants him to impress, conveys the implication that all of these social niceties have been uttered without saying anything but her name. Janaki smiles, takes off her shoes, and walks in.

---

“What are you even doing here?”

Janaki raises an eyebrow, pouring a little more soap into the bucket they were offered to use for clothes washing. It has been a month since Janaki found Rama and told him that she was going on a trip, and that she needed male company to keep her safe. A month since she handed him one of her motorcycle helmets, helped him pack his single spare change of clothes and toothbrush, and directed him to sit behind her and hold on tight so that they might make it to another friend’s village by evening and have a place to spend the night. Together, they have followed the western coastline, trading off who drives when Janaki realizes that not only does Rama have a deft hand at the wheel, but in the proper circumstances can coax thrills out of her old bike that she hadn’t even thought possible.

“What do you mean,” she asks, grabbing his kurta top from the pile of clothes he has slowly gathered from the families he has inadvertently charmed over their travels. He’s standing off to the side, hanging their host family’s saris to dry in order of color, taking the pains to smooth each piece of fabric and making sure none of them touch. In exchange for doing the family’s laundry today, Janaki and Rama are allowed to do their own, an exchange of goods and services that has served them well so far.

“We both know what I mean,” she hears in response. “You’ve just been elected President of the University Student Union, your father is up for election this year, and even if neither of those things were important enough you must have research you should be doing instead of traveling the coastline with the penniless, disgraced son of an industrialist.” His voice is as matter of fact as it always seems to be with him, but Janaki feels an undercurrent of self-hatred at the core of his little speech. Still, she thinks with a faint flush, it’s nice to know that he has kept up with her just as closely as she had him -- though of course it was much easier to find information about Ramachandra Raghuvanshi, always in the papers at exact, two week intervals so as to prevent the creation of scandals to amuse the public with during a news drought.

“I’d call your father a capitalist if I was really embarrassed to be seen with you,” she says back, “and there is more to be ashamed of in becoming rich through exploitation than in being poor through no fault of your own.”

Janaki hands over his kurta, and watches him wring it out one more time with hands stronger than her own. He smiles slightly. “The revolution never stops, does it?”

“No,” she smiles in return. “Not with me, and not, I think, with you either.”

Rama looks away, walking back to the rope to hang up his shirt. “What do you know about me that makes you so confident?” He pursues his lips briefly. “We weren’t even friends, and still you’re here with me.”

Why are you here, Janaki hears go unspoken, why haven’t you abandoned me as well?

When Janaki arrived on campus all starry eyed at 17, she had taken the student body by storm. Blessed with a vibrant personality and the natural pull of a gravity well, she brought people into her orbit effortlessly, rising up the university party ranks within months rather than years of her peers. Academically, she was registered as an economics student, a category the papers said she shared with the Raghuvanshi heir who had created quite the stir when he took his place at an Indian University instead of going abroad. She had been doing quite well, she thought, until the exhaustion after her first collection drive in support of a local workers’ strike fund had caught up to her and she had slept through a full day’s worth of classes. Just when Janaki had been about to call up an acquaintance in their batch she thought might lend her notes, a folder had been slipped underneath her dorm door. Inside, a set of meticulous notes, and a 2 lakh check.

“Isn’t the factory a subsidiary of the Raghuvanshi group?” Janaki’s roommate asked, turning over the check as Janaki flipped through the notes. Thank you for your work, they said at the top. Please let me know if the workers need more.

“Yes,” she had said, “but we can’t tell anyone about this.” For four years she had kept his secret, waiting for his packages whenever she was detained, or ill, or beaten up and could not attend the day’s lectures. More than just a copy of the class outline, Rama’s notes were full of asides, connections, slips of paper clipped with outside citations when he saw something that could be countered, or expanded on. When the party canvassed for funds, her notes would arrive with another check, no demands made in exchange except a humble request to let him know if they ever needed more.

Janaki looks at Rama now, hair growing long to match his new beard. Ramachandra Raghuvanshi had always been clean shaven, hair short and neat and slightly parted to the side in a way every girl instinctively knew must have been how his mother told him would suit. Her eyes soften.

“You used to take notes for me,” she says, “Why?”

His lips turn down just slightly. “It helped me study, to transcribe them again.”

Janaki raises an eyebrow. She remembers that the notes had always focused especially on areas she was known to be weak in, but she lets his half-truth slide. She has a better arrow in her quiver.

“And the money?”

His eyes are trained to the ground. “It wasn’t my money.” Well, certainly the last six weeks have made that much clear. But Janaki did not remember Rama spending exorbitantly in school: his largest expenses seemed to be the checks he sent her.

“We weren’t friends,” Janaki agrees, “But I knew that you were a good man,” Janaki says, “even if you’ve had to hide it from your family your whole life.” She snorts. “And if we weren’t friends then, we certainly are now -- look, I’m washing your underwear right now, and if that isn’t friendship I don’t know what is!”

The joke isn’t really that funny, but suddenly Rama bursts into laughter, loud and deep in a way Janaki doesn’t think she’d ever heard from him in class, on campus, even in the videos posted by the gossip rags online.

“I’ve never had a friend before,” he finally says, and Janaki tries not to show her surprise or the way that makes her hurt on his behalf. “But I would be grateful to be yours.”

Another two months pass, Janaki and Rama journeying up and down and around the west coast. Slowly, Rama starts to gravitate towards the work that he seems suited to do in trade for the day’s food and shelter, and Janaki watches as he seems to blossom in front of her eyes. Every place they drive into, Janaki begins to ask around and invariably there is a person who, more than needing wood split or clothes washed, is in need of a good scribe to write, in English, the details of their grievance against someone with more power than them. Rama listens, and writes, and accompanies men and women to go see a lawyer, or their landlords, and stands behind them speaking in that perfect colonial era British Indian accent he says he picked up at boarding school, making even Janaki squirm when she hears it.

Janaki’s ideology does not allow for her to venerate colonial markers of class, so that squirm must be one of discomfort, rather than, well, --

It has been three months since Janaki and Rama set out on their travels, and time is running out for Janaki who really does have things she has to get back to: a student union to run, a doctorate to work towards, a father’s election campaign to help out with. But everytime Janaki thinks about waking up one morning without seeing him when she turns her head, the pit in her stomach grows larger and more snarled. She doesn’t know how it happened but somehow Rama has gone from acquaintance, to friend, to....to something Janaki can’t even describe beyond simply laying claim to the person at her side. He has become “her” Rama, even though she knows you can’t own a person -- yet Janaki is greedy, and when she watches the small smiles that their trip has coaxed out of his mouth, watches him bargain with their host so that she can eat her favorite vegetable at dinner, watches him finally fall asleep after talking to her for hours into the night and finally look like the youth he is, Janaki knows that she can’t bear to leave.

“Are you angry,” she asks one day, passing him the newspaper cone of roasted peanuts they’ve been trading between themselves while they sit on the sand of an empty beach. There is no need to clarify what he possibly could be angry about.

“No,” he says, taking the cone. “I obey my father’s will.”

From anyone else, Janaki would laugh, but she knows that he speaks the truth as he sees it. The Raghuvanshis raised the perfect scion, a boy right out of those terrible 90s Hindi films who saw their parents as God and venerated at the altar of increased profits. Yet, they chose to throw him like yesterday’s trash -- but no matter, because their loss is Janaki’s gain, and she knows him, knows what makes him happy and sad, and glad and mad.

She knows, for one, that he is angry and that he needs to acknowledge it before she can ask him to come back with her and start over.

“Yes,” she says, “you obeyed quite beautifully. That doesn’t mean you aren’t upset.”

“Don’t -- I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work.”

She turns to look at him, jaw already clenched where usually it would take five times as long to get him to this state. He’s furious. Janaki’s heart aches in sympathy, longing to gather him up in her arms and tell him that it’s alright to be upset, that it would even be right to feel so, to kiss away the furrow in his beautiful brow and brush his curls behind his ear. But that would only make him close up, so instead --

“Don’t what?” she asks.

His entire body tightens, like a screw wound one turn too much. “I’m not upset,” he hisses, eyes flashing. “I’m fine!” Janaki brushes her hand over the one of his currently crushing the newspaper cone. As if burned, he lets go.

Sita sighs. “We don’t have to talk about it, but you’re clearly angry and it really isn’t healthy to keep it all in. There’s no one here at the beach, so I think you should just scream it out and try to move on with your life.” She’s not being entirely truthful, since she really does think he should talk about his family’s sudden and entire abandonment after years of encouraging near insane amounts of familial loyalty and emotional repression, but even this journey started out with a single step.

“You think I should... scream,” Rama says, eyebrow raised in perfect, aristocratic, condescension. Janaki nods.

“Just go out into the surf, scream at the top of your lungs for 20 seconds, and then we can leave no questions asked. I promise.”

“You won’t bring this up again,” he asks as if to confirm the terms of a business deal. Perhaps that’s what this is to him, finally back on familiar territory. Janaki shrugs, ignoring how her heart sinks to think of him seeing her care as nothing more than something to trade in order to keep away.

“For now.” At his frown, she shrugs again, allowing herself to smile a little. “If it looks like you’re struggling in the future, I’m definitely going to ask again.”

For a moment, Rama’s eyes widen in ...shock? Surprise? Was he not expecting for them to remain in each other’s lives? Janaki can’t allow herself to think too hard or long on the subject, especially since Rama has, without a word, risen and walked over to the surf.

He glances once over his shoulder, and Janaki waves in encouragement. He begins to scream.

20 seconds pass, and Janaki really does think he will stop and walk back, brushing off any questions and wandering back into the village they’ve decided to stay in this week. But then 30 pass, then a minute, and suddenly Rama is just screaming, knees falling into the waves and hands coming up to clutch and pull at his hair and Janaki is running as fast as she ever has to crash next to him in the wet sand. She shifts sideways, putting her body perpendicular to his so that her back is not to the waves but she can still look at his face -- he’s still screaming, doesn’t seem to have noticed her body next to his, tears streaming down his face. Janaki’s hands flail, but finally she realizes that she can only rely on the instincts that have led her the past few months to find him, to drag him on the back of her bike, to tell him to scream.

Janaki pulls Rama into her chest, her arms around him as she begins to weep along with him. Every time she tries to grasp the scale of the injustice done to him, she finds that her mind is too small. He was raised with every luxury, but with a conditional love that demanded a machine instead of a man. He’s stopped screaming, but has replaced it with gut wrenching sobs, hoarse from when his throat seems to have finally given out -- Janaki wonders when he last wept.

She loves him, she realizes, pressing an absent kiss into his hair. That’s what this feeling must be.

“You what?”

Oh, Janaki thinks, did I say that aloud?

“Ah,” she hears, “yes you did.” Rama raises his head, both of them still kneeling in the surf, tear tracks glistening down the cheeks he had just shaved at the request of an older lady who offered to house them if only he would look respectable. “Do you mean it?”

Janaki swallows, the pit in her stomach as large as it ever has been. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be -- she was supposed to convince him to come back with her, and then later talk about how she wants to kiss him silly.

“You want me to come back with you?” Oh for--

“Yes,” she says, confident that nothing she thinks now will remain within the privacy of her mind. “I want you to come back with me, and study to become a lawyer, and live with me as we try to make the world a better place.”

Rama’s eyes are wide, and Janaki wonders if she’s ever seen him look so fragile. He sputters.

“Fragile? I don’t look frag--”

Janaki laughs, bringing her hand up to cradle his cheek, right thumb brushing gently against his cheekbone. “Alright?”

Rama swallows, blinking his assent as if he suddenly can’t speak. A minute passes where the only sound is of the ocean waves crashing gently in front of them, water periodically flooding them up to their hips.

Rama clears his throat. “Do...” he takes a breath, “do you really think I could?”

“What,” Janaki asks, “become a lawyer?”

He nods. “Everything. I...” he looks away, and Janaki feels the beginning of euphoria. In his eyes there is fear, but not dread -- he wants what she wants, wants it bad. “My entire life I was trained to bring honor to our family name, to do that by making money and keeping my family members happy. I don’t--” Janaki’s thumb moves from his cheekbone to his lips, before he can say something idiotic like ‘I don’t know how to keep you happy.’ Rama laughs, eyes glistening with hopefully something other than tears.

“But I don’t know! Your needs are so different from the people I grew up with!”

Janaki leans forward until her forehead rests against his and their lips nearly touch. “I love you as you are,” she says, “the things I want, you’ve already given me.”

She can feel his brow crinkle, pressed as it is against hers. “I don’t own anything to give you!”

Janaki laughs: only the hideously rich could think so.

“I’m greedy,” she says, eyes closed as wave after wave of happiness floods her exponentially like the way the water of the high tide touches further and further parts of the land. “I want things that you’ve given no one else -- your grief, and joy, and triumph, and failure. I want to wake up with you, and go to sleep with you, and make breakfast with you, and dinner too. I want--”

Rama bridges the gap, and Janaki says no more. He gasps when they break apart, and a vicious part of her wants to ask if he’d kissed any of the high society women he’d been photographed with like that.

“No,” he laughs, and Janaki feels another thrill to see it. “It wouldn’t have been polite.” He leans back, bringing up his own hands to cup her entire head in his palms, lips curved in a wistful smile. “Everyday you confuse me.”

Janaki bites her lip when he doesn’t continue. “Do you like that?”

He shakes his head, and suddenly the pit comes roaring back. “I think I love it,” he says instead, smiling still. “I think I love you, Janaki.”

His smile widens, almost a full grin now. “My Jaan.”

#ramayana #maya writes #obviously this is just wish fulfillment #but he goes back with her becomes a lawyer #leaves behind the company #eventually probably reconciles with his family #definitely with his poor brothers stuck abroad who don't know wtf is happening #but he never goes back to running hte company esp when hes in love with communist sita #who gleefully talks about her 'class traitor' husband #he takes her last name when they marry eventually #oh i keep calling her sita on instinct instead of janaki #which is a change i made entirely based on how much nicer janaki videha rolled off the tongue than sita videha #its just a slight different but w/e #i still think sita is the prettier and better name tho #also...had to be janaki so that the nickname could be jaan #had to sneak that shit in ok its gold #but yeah he becomes a lawyer specializing in land rights cases vs the state #its all very sexy

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mywalkintofreedom · 3 years

Text

Life at west Main Street- part 5

When I think about the first months of Ezra’s life, I look at it as a time where we learned some of the most valuable lessons in life. When he came into our lives we were no longer living just for ourselves, I guess is how I could describe it.

I remember a lot of things just became less important, or didn’t seem like they were that big of a deal anymore. I remember Micah saying “I feel so small now, and like I know so little about life”. It might be hard to believe, but the season we were in, living where we were living, there couldn’t have been a better time for us to have our first son enter into our world.

When I look back, our circumstances, our finances, our living environment, I’m glad they were the way they were. Why in the world would I say that? Because it was these things that caused us to make life changing decisions at the most important stage of our journey, when we had a newborn, and that we learned things that we otherwise wouldn’t have. Never ever despise small beginnings, it was our foundation. It also made that we learned to depend on God for our every need, not just for ourselves, also with our child. I didn’t know what it was like to be statistically poor, or to have to wait to buy a piece of meat, to not be able to buy new clothes. I’m saying “statistically” poor, because if you looked at our income, we were poor. BUT, we weren’t poor in spirit, we were richer than we had ever been. I remember food never tasting as good as it did in that season. We bought good food, and it was just enough for what we needed. We would often look at each other and say “I feel so rich”. We lived in our apartment for about a year and a half, and because we lived here for so long, living “primitive”, I guess is how I could describe it, became a part of our mindset and foundation that we built our family on. Watching how God took care of our needs, gave me great hope that He would help us take care of our son.

Some of my dearest memories at west Main Street were probably the early hours of the morning. I treasured every second I got to spend with Micah, and honestly still do. Maybe it’s because we had a long distance relationship before we got married, that was definitely part of it. But to be in the company of one another was and just is the best, especially in that time. Micah and I would get up early every day and he would make us coffee and we would sit down and read the Word together. We had been reading together every morning since the day we got married. I’m sure many know this, but proverbs has 31 chapters, so it’s perfect for reading “the chapter of the day”. We did this for years.

We would read while we had Ezra in his squeaky rocker that Micah would rock back and forth with his foot. Often this was at 5:00am after his first feeding. Ezra would listen and eventually fall asleep to us taking turns reading out loud. I can still hear the squeaking of that rocker like it was yesterday in the early morning hours as the sun rose through the trees.

There had been many months of reading together where I just sat through it and wasn’t feeling anything and wasn’t getting any revelations and often didn’t even feel like reading, until then. It wasn’t until the first months of Ezra’s life that the Word of God started to explode. I was having so many revelations in this time, and Micah did as well. It’s like all of a sudden I understood parts of scripture that I had read my whole life or was seeing things I never saw before. I remember craving the Word, wanting to be in it. We had bible studies together and we made decisions on how we were going to raise our family, and how we were going to keep our home spiritually clean.

Micah was 19 when we got married, and I had just turned 20. I don’t think I had ever shared our age in my other blogs, so there ya have it. We knew we were for each other. I knew before he was even my boyfriend, and so did Micah.

By the time Ezra was born, Micah was 20 and I was 21. So yeah, we were still young chickens. I still felt like a teenager in a lot of ways. Still immature in a lot of areas of our life. But we had the privilege of growing up together, which we still are, and I don’t regret being that young at that time. We might not have always made the right decisions, but does anyone always make the right decisions? We may or may not have bought pizza with our last pennies too many times than I can count, and then had to eat plain bread in the following days until pay day. But we did always learn from them. (except for the pizza situation, we never seemed to learn from that one.) We always wanted to do Gods will for our life. I honestly don’t know where we would be today if God hadn’t been the One guiding us.

I remember getting to the point where I felt like life was starting to settle down a little, or so I thought. I think it was late July, but I don’t remember exactly. One afternoon, Micah came home for lunch and he had an interesting look on his face. I could tell, like I always can, that there was something he needed to tell me. Lunch hour had nearly passed, I think, when he finally said “well, I quit my job” (!) My brain couldn’t really comprehend what it had just heard. In full surprise I said “you did WHAT!?” He quit his job. I thought maybe he meant he decided he wanted to, or was planning to, but no, he had already gone to his boss and done the deed. His job was our only income, by the way. He explained to me all the reasons why he had quit, and that he felt it was time to move on to something else... and the entire time all I could think was “you didn’t discuss this with me”. I was furious about it, actually. I mean I was upset that he gave up our income, of course, but I was more upset that he made the decision without me.

In fact, I was so upset that I didn’t talk to him for nearly two days. I wasn’t trying to give him the silent treatment, I just knew that if I would open my mouth I would probably end up getting really angry, and say things I shouldn’t (I had a good amount of experience with this). After two days when I felt my anger had cooled off, some, I told him exactly what I thought, but calmly. I told him that I thought it was not a good idea. I told him that I thought that he needed to have something else lined up before he could quit. And most of all, I told him that he hurt my feelings by not involving me in that decision before he went and made that decision by himself. Then I told him that I would support him in his decision and walk beside him, and help him in any way I could, because he is after all my husband, but that I most certainly was not in agreement. He repented to me for not including me in the decision and said he saw that that was wrong. This was actually a big learning moment for both him and me, for me, because I had to make a choice not to let that anger take root in my life which would then create a breech.

But he didn’t change his mind, which I hoped he would. We shared it with several friends, and I stood beside him and did not share with anyone that I didn’t agree. He had one more week of work and then he would be done. There was a goodbye party at work and everything. They had made him a cake and cards, the whole shebang. I remember thinking, “oh my word if he does change his mind this will be interesting”.

Please know that Micah’s heart was never to do the wrong thing. He had been faithfully working at a job that didn’t fulfill him for almost a year at this point. He often talked about wanting to do something different, but the open door just hadn’t come yet. It’s a journey, learning to hear God and His will for your life. It’s not always easy. Micah was learning, and he had an open heart, always.

We searched for different work for him, but we didn’t have any success. I prayed that God would show him the right thing to do every day. I firmly believed his time wasn’t done yet at his old job, but also had to be open to trusting God if it was. After some council on his decision with friends, and conversations between him and I, he eventually humbly went back to his boss and asked him if he could have his job back. This definitely wasn’t easy, but he did feel it was the right thing to do. I was so proud of him. He recognized he had made the wrong decision and had gotten ahead of God. His boss had already hired someone else on, so he wasn’t able to take Micah back full time. In a way this was okay, and a consequence that we had to accept, it gave Micah an opportunity to do some other work on the side that he’d enjoy more.

So between that summer and January of 2016 he worked several days a week at the car dealership, and then the other days he did odd jobs. God still provided for us. You know, even if you make a mistake, you repent and you move on, it doesn’t mean God abandons you.

One event that really made an impression on both of us happened at the Ingles supermarket. We were really tight this week. Like really tight. We had to pay something that set us back, I don’t exactly remember what, I wish I did. I remember we really didn’t know how we were going to eat this week. We needed a miracle. We had $10, and decided that we would get a few essential food items and that Micah would walk to work. Micah was always the optimist, he would tell me “don’t worry, God WILL provide”. Sometimes his optimism would irritate me, and I would say “how the heck can you be calm about this!?” But, the reality is, his trust in God has truly taught me a lot. We decided “okay let’s pray and ask God”, we had prayed that God would provide for us, and make a way for us to be able to buy ALL the essential food we needed for that week and put gas in our car.

It was a Sunday afternoon after church. We always took the mini cart at Ingles, because we wouldn’t buy a lot. We had Ezra’s car seat on the mini cart, and we would put our groceries in the section below. We were only getting like three things. While we were there we saw someone we knew. This person jokingly bumped into Micah “on accident” to say hi. We chatted for a bit, and Micah said “yeah just doing some groceries for the week”. This person looked at our cart, and then he looked at us, and said “in that?” We were like “yeah we don’t need too much, we put everything down there at the bottom, it works great”. He then looked at me and said “why don’t you go get a bigger cart”. I was like.. uhh.. ok.. sure. When I got the cart, this person started filling up our cart with all sorts of groceries, and told me to pick out everything we needed. I still get emotional even writing this down. I was very hesitant putting things in, we had been calculating everything so long, just throwing things in the cart was not something I was used to. This was one of the most meaningful things I personally ever encountered. His wife was there too, and also asked me questions, like what I liked to eat, and things like that, and she then would put it in the cart. I remember he put a bottle of fancy sparkling grape juice in the cart, and different extras that we never bought, but would think about buying sometimes. Micah always wanted to do special things for me but we just couldn’t afford it, he always told me that’s why this meant so much to him. He put expensive cheese in the cart, he put a jar of Nutella in the cart (🙂). And meat, wow meat for every day of the week, plus extra. A lot of things that I really liked that he didn’t know I did. I remember really just not knowing what to do, and he kept nudging me saying things along the lines of “come on, is that all?” “What else?”

We went to the checkout, and even there I was thinking “what’s going to happen now?” Is he going to leave and let us pay for it?😂 We had never filled up a belt with this much stuff. They paid for everything.

We walked out of the grocery store and said bye, and of course THANK YOU. We went to the car, and when we got the groceries loaded we sat down and looked at each other. “What just happened?!” Like seriously, “WHAT JUST HAPPENED?” I remember Micah raising up his hands and praising God, thanking Him. Our miracle happened, God provided, the same day, not just the necessities, more than what we needed for that week. We headed to the gas station and used the money we were going to get those few groceries with, and filled up our car.

I had a routine, every day I would take a long walk with Ezra to Micah’s work and then we would all drive back home for his lunch hour. This walk took me about 45 minutes the first time I did it, but I got faster and I remember the last time I took that walk it took me 35 minutes. Often people would stop and ask if I needed a ride, and they always were very surprised when I’d say that we were just taking a walk. During my pregnancy my feet had grown half a size, I had no idea this was even a thing, but it can happen, and happened to me. This meant that all my shoes were too small, and would make my legs hurt and knees. One time we had extra money so we went to Goodwill to look for shoes for me. We found these tan Toms for the exact money we had, they looked brand new. I wore these Toms every day until it had holes in both front and back, I loved them.

My walk was my favorite part of the day, it made the morning go by faster. The outside air was necessary for me to keep my spirt lifted, and it did. The stroller I used was the stroller we had gotten from our babyshower. I remember the wheels were starting to peel by the time we moved out of west Main Street, because of how many miles I had walked with this stroller. I also walked up the hill to the library every day.

My spirit had never felt more alive. I still didn’t have any distractions in my life, and the main thing I noticed when I didn’t have a phone for more than a year is that my brain was much less occupied with other things. It was very quiet and peaceful, I guess I could say. I had space in my head, if that makes any sense. We were gifted a gift card to Hobby Lobby by a family member, so we bought paint brushes, canvasses and paint and yarn. I set up this little corner in our apartment where I would paint almost every day while Ezra took his naps. I really enjoyed doing it, although I really don’t think I was any good at it😂 I also learned how to crochet and would make hats and scarves for Ezra. I also crocheted scarves for different family members.

In that September we went to Kentucky for three weeks for Micah to work with his dad. Ezra was 4/5 months old at this time. I would say that the breastfeeding struggles were at its peak in this time I think. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to throw in the towel and exclaimed to Micah that I was done, (even though I never really meant it), that I couldn’t do it anymore. He was having major blowouts and rashes and screaming fits, Ezra that is, not Micah. That’s honestly what I remember the most of that trip. But I was getting close to my breakthrough even though I didn’t know this of course. While we were in Kentucky, we planned a trip for me to go to The Netherlands with Ezra. I’m pretty sure my parents provided a ticket for me and Ezra (infants fly for free). Micah wasn’t able to come. A ticket was booked and after the three weeks in Kentucky were over, we headed back home.

Not too long, maybe a few days after we had gotten back home from Kentucky, we were headed to the airport. I so wanted Micah to be able to come with me, but that just wasn’t an option. I moved to the United States when I was 14 weeks pregnant on November 4th of 2014. It was now late October of 2015, so it had been a year since I had been back and since I’d seen most of my family. Most had never met Ezra.

I remember being very nervous about flying alone with Ezra for 9 hours, and about nursing sitting next to other people. (I mean you basically sit on each other’s lap in an airplane) They allowed Micah to escort me all the way to the gate, they gave him a special pass, it was so special. Goodbye at the gate was hard, we hadn’t ever been separated from each other since we had been married. I was going to be gone for three weeks.

When I got in the airplane the flight attendant saw I had Ezra and said she wanted to find me a good spot. (Before I had left Micah had prayed for people to step in and help me when I needed it) I had an entire row to myself. A nice guy also offered to carry all my luggage. Ezra did phenomenal on the plane, he didn’t cry once. He slept well and nursed well, and stole all the flight attendants’ hearts. It really felt like a God-thing. They said they had never had a baby do that well on a flight, it made me feel good, but I thought they probably said that to every mother😄

My time in the Netherlands was good. It was very very strange to be back. I felt like a different person, and like I was looking at what I’d known my whole life through different eyes. I wasn’t the same person I was when I had left, while pregnant, a year ago. A lot had happened. It was also when I was back, that I realized how primitive our life really was. I also remember unpacking my suitcase, and for the first time in months I smelled the real smell of our apartment again. I hadn’t smelled that smell since I had prayed that one time, and all of a sudden I realized that that was what our stuff smelled like. Still the muffy cigarette smoke smell.

After three weeks it was time to go back home. It was hard to leave, but I was leaving home to go back home. Both felt like home, so I had my peace about it, and was excited to see Micah again. On the flight back, I also ended up in an empty row with Ezra.

It was the Sunday morning after I had gotten back from Europe. We were getting ready to go to church. I was still having issues nursing, and this morning things were not going well again either. I was just so upset. I told Micah I wasn’t going. I really had rarely missed a service but the enemy was really resisting this morning. Micah eventually convinced me to go and God knew I was supposed to be there, and so did the enemy, so the enemy really tried hard that morning to keep me home.

When we got there, we sat down all the way in the back where we always sat. I remember holding back tears because I was just struggling this morning and so done with my nursing journey and feeling like such a failure. I honestly wasn’t hearing anything that was being said.

All of a sudden our pastor stopped talking. He started walking through the rows, and we were all following to see what he was doing and where he was going. Next thing I know, he is walking straight towards me all the way in the back. He stops in front of me, and he looks at me in my eyes and says “I love you, I am so proud of you, you are a good daughter” and then he gave me a hug, a long hug. I broke, I completely broke, how did he know? How did he know I was feeling like a failure? How did he know I was struggling? How did he know I needed to hear this? How did he even see me all the way in the back of the church? I cried, I couldn’t help it, it all came out. He cried with me. We looked into each other’s eyes crying.

It was a life changing experience. I received a piece of God’s love that day. I received a piece of confidence. I honestly don’t even know what happened, but it changed me, and it changed my journey. I wouldn’t even be able to explain exactly what changed and what happened. My nursing journey changed after this too. I figured out what was causing my struggles and had a peaceful journey from then on and never struggled again. But even before I figured it out, it changed. It was a night and day difference.

At the end of the year Micah was hired back on full time at the car dealership. Before he got his job back full time, he was doing a side job for someone. It was around Christmas time. The fun thing about side jobs was that I often was able to come with him with Ezra. I remember this particular time he had finished the job and we were saying goodbye. Right before we left, this person paid Micah and said “merry Christmas,” and put 100 dollars in his hands. This was much more than what had been promised!

It was the beginning of the year now, 2016. The apartment was still as cold as it was the winter before. We were sharing a room with Ezra, he was 8ish months old by now. We decided to move our bed into the dining room (which was about the same size as our bed) and let Ezra have the bedroom. It was mainly because he would wake up often when we’d come in at night, and I didn’t like not being able to to talk before bedtime. It honestly changed everything. We loved having the bed there, and it made it feel so cozy. We would put the space heater in his room at night and it would stay decently okay. We had a lot of blankets covering his windows and it was a smaller space so that helped. Whenever we’d put the space heater back into our main space where our bed was in the morning, I remember it always showing crazy low temperatures. It was like we were camping in our own house, in the winter. I slept in my bathrobe with lots of blankets and it honestly wasn’t that bad, but do remember my nose getting cold😂. I remember thinking, “I’ll look back on this one day”. With Georgia being Georgia, the difference in temperature between day and night was always big, so the day time was much better. Eventually we had two space heaters, and different curtains, really thick and long curtains, which helped a ton to keep it steady around 60-65 degrees. I think the windows were the main issue, they were really old and you could feel the wind come through them when you’d sit next to them. That’s why the different curtains made such a big difference.

It was around this same time that we were asked to house sit for some people which was a huge blessing, because it meant that we would sleep in a heated house. God knew. We would house sit a week, maybe once a month. I do remember it being harder to go back to the apartment in the day time, because the difference in temperature was so big between their house and our apartment.

It was also in this time that I finally got a phone! My dad had given me his old phone while I was in The Netherlands, and we were able to finally get it to work with Straighttalk. This of course changed a lot for me. Where before I had needed to walk to the library to ask Micah something, I now could just text him. It was wild. I hadn’t had a phone for a year and a half. I also had more opportunities for fellowship because it was easier to text people. At the same time it also conflicted me, because phones can be such a distraction.

Micah was working full time at the car dealership, and he was also working on Saturdays for someone else at this point. Often he made over hours at the dealership. I remember the last few months being rough. He was gone a lot. We were starting to think about moving, and I was starting to really want to move. Ezra was moving around now and there wasn’t a lot of space for him. We also wanted to have more children. It was towards the very end of our season at West Main Street that we were having a little extra money here and there, because Micah was working a lot but also, because we were getting finished paying off our midwife, our loan and my greencard. Micah and I made a deal, that every Saturday after he got done working, we would eat out somewhere cheap, while getting our groceries. We would turn grocery shopping into a date. It was the absolute highlight of my week.

I was working through discontentment, and I continued to be reminded to be faithful with the little things. My prayer always was for God to help me take good care of what we had. I remember thinking “how can He entrust me with more, if I’m not taking care of the little that I have”. “How can he entrust me with better, if I’m not thanking Him and grateful for what I have right now”. And I would actively thank him for our home when I felt discontent and ungrateful, sometimes against everything I was feeling. Our neighbors would often wake up Ezra from his naps, they would stand right next to his window and holler at one an other and I would feel so done. Ambulances woke him up frequently as well. I hadn’t ever imagined living there still at this point, and did struggle with it. I prayed for months that God would bring us to a different place and provide a different place for us to live and grow our family.

The neighbors who lived in the basement, with the grandparents upstairs, in the house next to us had moved out. There was a sign that it was up for rent. We went to go look at it. When we walked in, it was the most filthy space I had ever encountered. There were hundreds of dead cockroaches (and I’m not even exaggerating), and the carpet was so gross, there was still some furniture left with rips everywhere. We also looked at the basement where they had lived and we both just couldn’t believe that an entire family had lived there in those conditions. I thought to myself “and here I thought I had it bad”. It was unreal, and so sad and so dark. We prayed that they had found a better place, and it was a realization that a lot of people in our town in this neighborhood lived in these kind of conditions.

In april of 2016 we had been searching for a house for awhile. We had paid everything off (which was an absolute miracle!) and were now able to afford a bigger place. After a long search we found a little two bedroom house in our price range. We had done all the calculations and came to the conclusion that we could do it. We had family help us get enough for the down payment, and we moved into this little house mid April. Our season at West Main Street came to an end, and a new season had begun, and this was just the beginning of our journey. In the months and years to come we realized how much of an impact this season had on our life, and how it really set the tone for our future.

Pic 1: Ezra on one of our many walks

Pic2: our bedroom before we moved our bed into dining room

Pic3: doing our morning bible time outside

Pic4: the way our apartment looked just weeks before we moved. It was home.

Pic5: Corey aka “the toothless wonder”

Pic6: our little kitchen.

Pic 7: our side of the apartment

Pic8: Micah always making us the best food

Last pic: family selfie

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whitefirewillow · 4 years

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Love Like Yours Fest Day 2

Hello again! Here’s my second day submission for @lovelikeyoursfest! This written excerpt features my apprentice oc with Muriel. I adore Asra and Muriel so much, so I’ll probably be switching between the two of them as the week carries on, but I won’t forget about the other lovely characters of The Arcana! I like to think this scene took place early on in Muriel and the apprentice’s journey to find Lucio with Morga. I hope you all enjoy it! By the by, if you like my writing, I have written commissions open with unlimited slots. If interested, please check out my commission info sheet on my blog page!

Have a beautiful day everybody!

May 18th: Caught Red Hearted

1703 Words

Morning dew made the air brisk as the sun slowly rose over the horizon. Soft watercolored hues of pink, orange, violet, and yellow brought a subtle smile to Muriel’s face as he roused himself from sleep. Beside him, Inanna lifted her head to look at him and placed a paw on his arm in greeting. He returned her gesture with a brief scratching of her ears as he sat up and looked around the makeshift camp. Morga was not present, which didn’t surprise Muriel, but he blinked when he noticed the three empty spaces that had been occupied only a few hours ago when the moon was beginning its descent.

The horses were missing and Siarrah’s minimal belongings were abandoned beside the space she had bedded in. Muriel’s heart began to thrum a little faster than normal as he stood to his full height, motivating Inanna to do the same. She merely huffed in impatience as Muriel looked around for any sign of Siarrah’s presence, panicked that the worst could have happened to her.

“Inanna, where did--?” He stopped himself when he noticed a new path that had been made in the grassy field that hadn’t been there last night. It was big enough for Muriel to guess that the horses had been the ones to make the path, and upon further inspection, he found soft bare footprints imprinted into the moist earth along with hoofprints.

“You knew?” Muriel asked, turning to the wolf who sat close by the trail of footprints.

A subdued and somewhat dismissive sneeze from Inanna answered Muriel’s simple question. The action had tickled Inanna’s ears, and she quickly shook her head to be rid of the mild discomfort. He grunted in response and began to trek up the hill beside the path the horses and Siarrah had left. When he glanced behind him he was pleased to see that Inanna was following him. She bounded up the hill and sat at the top to wait for him.

His pant legs absorbed the morning dew allowing pieces of grass and bits of dirt to cling to his legs as he walked, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. Once he reached the hill’s peak, he immediately spotted Siarrah and their horses at the base of the hill he stood upon. His horse, the tall draft, was eye level with Siarrah, who sat on the bare back of her horse who was busy filling his belly with the lush grass that surrounded them.

Muriel’s horse gently prodded Siarrah with her muzzle. Softly chuckling, Siarrah reciprocated the mare’s request for more attention and began braiding the horse’s forelock.

“You’re rather fortunate I was up here on Theon’s back or I wouldn’t have been able to do this.” She said as her fingers wove the coarse hair out of the mare’s eyes. Theon, Siarrah’s horse, looked up from eating and swiveled his ears towards Muriel and Inanna. Following the gelding’s gaze, Siarrah twisted around and smiled when she saw them.

“Morning, Muriel,”

He trudged down the hill, leaving Inanna who remained on the hilltop, and approached his horse before responding with a confused expression on his face.

“What are you doing?” He asked, looking between the mare, who happily nudged him as a greeting, Siarrah, the half-made braid in the mare’s forelock, and Theon who was eyeing Inanna curiously.

“I thought I’d get up earlier than usual to spend some time with the horses,” Siarrah replied cheerfully. “So we could get to know one another better.” She gestured with Theon’s reins in hand to the horse she sat upon and then to the mare with her free hand. “I’m not quite sure where I stand with Theon, but I think Isleen and I are getting along pretty well, right?” She turned to the mare and gently scritched her muzzle. Isleen simply nipped Siarrah’s fingers with her lips in response.

“...Why?” Muriel questioned, his confusion not resolving.

“Well,” Siarrah started. “I really love how you so easily connect with animals, and when I observed you with the horses these past few days, I thought I’d try spending some time with them too so I could get to know you better through the animals.”

Muriel looked taken aback at how nonchalantly Siarrah’s statement had been, let alone it not making any sense to him. Why on earth would anyone want to get to know him better? He didn’t want to be known, he wanted to be forgotten. But since embarking on this journey to find Lucio with Siarrah, he was wondering if he could make another exception.

Isleen nudged him again, pulling Muriel out of his stupor, and he gently patted the mare with a small smile on his face.

“You two really do get along well,” Siarrah said, smiling as she observed their interaction. A blush crept onto Muriel’s cheeks.

“You and Theon seem fine too,” Muriel muttered nervously, his face flushing more deeply as Siarrah beamed at him.

“I’m happy to hear that. Hopefully, we can hrrk-!” Before she could finish her statement, Siarrah was violently tugged forward and rolled off of Theon’s head landing on her back in front of the confused gelding. Maybe she had been sitting too far up on Theon’s withers, but Siarrah blinked her eyes up at the gelding’s nose sniffing her to see if she was okay.

“Are you alright?!” Muriel’s heart had experienced the same force that Siarrah had as he rushed to her side (which was only about three steps for him) to see if she was unharmed.

She laid in the soggy grass in a daze and shivered when the cold began to seep through her clothes. Theon, with his mouth full of grass, and seemingly having a guilty conscience, quickly finished chewing before plastering a layer of green goo across Siarrah’s forehead with his tongue.

“Blegch...Theon,” Siarrah protested, wiping the slime off of her face with her sleeve. She paused as she fully realized her position with Muriel worriedly standing over her, Theon already mowing down more grass behind her, and the sky brightening with the rising sun. Despite her shaking from the shock of what had happened, and the damp cold of her clothes, a smile appeared on her face which quickly evolved into laughter.

It took a second for Muriel to register that Siarrah was laughing, and he honestly couldn’t tell if she was just having a reaction to what had happened or if her guffawing was genuine. He stared at her incredulously as she began to recover. She slowly sat up, wincing a little as she did so, and gladly accepted the hand that he hesitantly offered for her. Muriel delicately helped Siarrah to her feet making sure to not move too fast or pull too hard on her much smaller frame.

“Thank you, Muriel,” She seethed from the dull pain in her back but gave him a grateful nod and smile.

“You’re shaking,” Muriel observed as Siarrah’s hand continued to tremble in his. “You should sit back down.” There was worry laced within his words and he was ready to pick her up and bring her back to the campsite despite whatever Morga might say, but Siarrah shook her head.

“Muriel, I’m okay, I promise,” She cheerfully assured him. “That scared me more than it did hurt.”

“You just fell off of a horse,” Muriel pointed out.

“Theon apologized,” Siarrah replied, patting the gelding. “Though it was kind of gross. Besides, I think I was sitting too high on his withers and I wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing when I should have been. Now I learned my lesson, and I’ll be sore for a while, but--”

Siarrah was abruptly cut off by Muriel encasing her body in his arms. Her face flushed red as she found herself wrapped in Muriel’s warmth, a welcoming feeling against the cold of her damp clothes.

Muriel was internally panicking. Despite the reassurance Siarrah had given him, Muriel couldn’t convince himself that she was alright with her body still trembling. He didn’t know what to do to get it to stop, and a buried memory of a night under the docks with Asra on the anniversary of his parents’ disappearance gave him the idea to wrap Siarrah in his embrace to get her to stop shaking. It had worked for Asra when they were children, so wouldn’t it work for his apprentice? Only he hadn’t expected to actually do it but here he was hugging Siarrah and he was suddenly lost for what to do now. To his surprise, he could feel her arms shifting around his cloak as she began to return his embrace. His cheeks grew warm and they only seemed to get hotter as he noticed the red blush that adorned Siarrah’s face.

“You’re...weird,” Muriel managed to stammer. A muffled chuckle reached his ears from Siarrah.

“I hope you don’t mind that.” She said. He only responded to her with a low grunt that put a smile on Siarrah’s face.

“Are you two finished?” A firm voice demanded.

Eyes widening, Muriel and Siarrah swiftly separated and sheepishly found themselves under the scrutinizing eyes of Morga from the hilltop. Inanna sat by her with a glint of amusement in her dark eyes.

“How long have you been standing there?” Muriel asked.

“Long enough to know you are wasting our daylight. Prepare your horses and let’s move on.” Morga ordered as she turned and disappeared down the other side of the hill.

“Guess it’s time to get going,” Siarrah sighed, reclaiming Theon’s reins. She turned to Muriel and saw that he was tossing Isleen’s reins over her head to lead her back up the hill. “Muriel?”

He glanced in her direction hoping that the blush in his cheeks had faded enough to where she couldn’t see it. However, he was a bit astonished to see that Siarrah’s body had ceased its trembling.

“Thank you,” She said with a smile as she led Theon back up the hill towards the eagerly awaiting Inanna. His heart thrummed again and the fading heat returned to his face as he led Isleen back up the hill behind Siarrah.

“...You’re welcome.”

#lovelikeyours2020 #the arcana #the arcana apprentice #the arcana muriel #the arcana inanna #the arcana morga #the arcana fandom #commissions open #writing commissions #writing #muriel kokhuri

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rossetteaaaaang · 4 years

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THE COUNTRY THAT I ADMIRED

Have you been to South korea? If yes, I envy you. “South korea, East Asian nation on the southern half of the Korean Peninsula.” I always wanted to go in korea. You wanna know why?

I admire how South Koreans are so used to studying -- the country has the highest education level in Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD) countries, with 98% of the population completing secondary education and 63% with a college education -- they can't get out of the habit once they reach the workforce.

As we all know, South korea is where our k-drama actors and actresses live. Of course from the word itself “k-drama or korean drama” silly me. K-drama or korean drama are television series or movies in the Korean language, made in South Korea. Korean dramas are popular worldwide, partially due to the spread of Korean popular culture, and their widespread availability via streaming services which often offer subtitles in multiple languages.

I know most of us millennials or even older or younger like or LOVE rather watching korean dramas. As for me, one of the reasons really, is that I would love to go to South Korea because of them. I'm an k-drama addict, you see. I mostly spend my time watching korean dramas and I cannot count anymore how many k-dramas I have already watched. I’m not expecting to finally meet them, but I still hope so. I want to go to many places, nice places that I have always seen in the series or movie. To feel like I was with them that time. I really always wanted to go to the country where they live.

Just like in the series, DOTS or descendants of the sun, D-day, School 2017, Sweet revenge 1, The odyssey, Weightlifting fairy, Strong woman, Legend of the blue sea, The heirs, Fight for my way and many more, my all time favorites. So let us see where this travelogue will bring us.

One of the places there in DOTS is Taekbaek Hanbo coal mine, the place where abandoned coal mines in Taebaek City, Gangwon Province, South Korea, were scenes of the soldiers’ military camp in fictional country Urk was filmed. It is where Captain Yoo Si Jin and Doctor Kang Mo-Yeon put the flag where the mines were, so that the people would know and be aware that it is dangerous to step.

Second place is Sorae Galmegi, one of the beloved Korean BBQ joints in Seoul, it is the perfect dining option for drama lovers who want to try out delicious local food. In the show, this is where the epic drinking session of the army occured. Song Hye Kyo joined 72 hours non stop drinking in Seoul too. This should come as no surprise, as drinking soju + eating mouthwatering pork cuts is one of favorite Korean pastimes.

Third, there are several scenes in the show that feature this cozy Korean coffee chain. Arguably the most memorable one is from the second episode in which Song Joong-ki and Song Hye-kyo’s characters break up. We can find this branch of Dalkomm Coffee in the vicinity of Incheon Central Park, a lovely area in its own right.

Fourth, The European-style shopping mall lies in east Seoul, appearing in the show as a date spot for the two leads. As you glide through the lavishly decorated avenues, you can reenact the show and do a little shopping on the side.

Fifth is the modern architectural wonder located in Songo, Incheon. Its sleek, state-of-the-art appearance is one of the reasons why it appeared in a lot of drama. Tourists can climb up the tower to witness some of the most spectacular views of the Incheon Central Park and the surrounding area.

Sixth is Jaguen Maeul, Also known as Bok Chicken in Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo, Jageun Maeul is home to the fried chicken restaurant run by Bok Joo’s father in the show. Unlike the show, the restaurant serves a variety of Korean food instead. If you’re looking for an adventure outside of Seoul, Jaguen Maeul is the perfect place to relive Bok Joo and Joon Hyung’s awkward romance that made us swoon.

Seventh is Descendants of the Sun – Wolmido Island Theme Park, Fans may be disheartened to know that they can’t visit Uruk, the fictional country in which their love bloomed, but fret not! Many other sites of the drama can be found in Korea, including Wolmi Theme Park! Found on Wolmido Island near Incheon, the theme park is featured in the show’s first episode There, Si Jin and Dae Young are spending their time off trying to win themselves “girlfriends”, the show’s famous stuff toys.

Eight is Legend of the Blue Sea – Aqua Planet Yeosu, If the scene where Joon Jae and Shim Cheong reunite made your heart melt, this Legend of the Blue Sea set is the perfect place to relive the show’s romance. Multiple scenes were filmed at the aquarium, but this reunion scene was filmed in front of the Ocean’s Life main aquarium. The aquarium features over 280 species over 4 floors, and is said to be the second largest aquarium in Seoul.

Ninth is Boys Over Flowers – N Seoul Tower, As one of the most iconic landmarks in Seoul, it’s no surprise that the cult favourite drama Boys Over Flowers was filmed at Namsan Tower! The tower is where Jun pyo and Jan Di were supposed to have their romantic date. Famous for its gorgeous views of Seoul, it’s a popular date spot for couples. Who knows, you might even meet your own Jun Pyo while enjoying the view.

Tenth is The Heirs – Bukchon Hanok Village, A tiny traditional village in the heart of a bustling city, Bukchon Hanok Village dates back all the way to the Joseon Dynasty. In The Heirs, Eun Sang meets Kim Tan outside a dreamcatcher shop found in the village, but did you know the actual store sells egg tarts? The village is a popular tourist place for those wanting to experience traditional Korean culture. A walking tour is also available for those teens to find out more. But they said that you need to be quiet while walking along the way there because you may disturb the residents living there.

Eleventh is Shilla Millenium Park, Boasting what might be the most star-studded cast, Hwarang: The Beginning told the story of Hwarang warriors during the Shilla period. Being a period drama, most of the show was filmed at traditional heritage sites. Shila Millenium Park serves as set for Hwarang’s training ground in the show. Shilla Millenium Park is also home to dramas such as Queen Seondeok as well as Boys Over Flowers. The park allows visitors a peek into the life during the Shilla period, complete with architecture unique to the era.

Twelve is Strong Woman Do Bong Soon – Seoul Land, No Korean drama is complete without an adorable theme park date that makes us wish we had an oppa too. If Bong Soon and Min Hyuk’s date in Strong Woman Do Bong Soon seemed like the perfect date, don’t forget to stop by Seoul Land with your significant other! I really wanted to go here. I can see how they enjoyed themselves while walking in the park and I want to experience it too!

Thirteenth is Goblin – Jumunjin Beach. If you have already seen that drama, you would feel the same too! It was a nice scenery and for sure it can relieve stress. Your Korean drama pilgrimage isn’t complete without stopping at one of Goblin’s filming sites. One of the most iconic scenes from the show is when Eun Tak first summons Kim Shin to the beach on her birthday. Since then, fans have been flocking to the breakwater to recreate that moment. Jumunjin Beach is home to more than 5 breakwaters, so make sure you find the right one! if you’re not sure which one it is, look out for the huge TV signboard.

Fourteenth is Wolmido Island, Incheon (Descendants of the Sun). Those scenes where Captain Yoo Si-jin and Sergeant Major Seo Dae-young were playing at a shooting range? Yep, that was here, at Wolmido Island. Travelers can enjoy the vast array of cafes and seafood restaurants along the coast – with great coffee and sea views too boot. There’s also Play Hill, another theme park that’s a must-visit.

Fifteenth is Samcheok Daemyung Resort Sol Beach, Donghae (My Secret Romance). This Santorini-themed location was used to film My Secret Romance, and it’s actually a resort outfitted with Spanish architecture. It features restaurants, Aqua World (an indoor water park), a sauna, and a fusion buffet – perfect for unwinding after a long day of traveling around.

Sixteenth is Petite france. When you look at Petite France, it becomes no surprise why this is a popular filming location for K-Dramas – it’s a French cultural village complete with French-inspired buildings, and has The Little Prince Theme Park too to boot. Make sure to check out the Orgel house, where a 200-year old music box plays on end.

These places are just a glimpse of how the Country South Korea is beautifully made. You can check out in google many other places because there are still a thousand places that you can go to and enjoy. You cannot blame me why I would really love to go to South Korea because you can see how the places are wonderfully made. I also want to taste their food there and make a mukbang video as what I have always seen on youtube where many of the koreans do video mukbangs of many delicious foods. Check out G-Ni’s videos. I'm sure that it can make your mouth watery. We can see a variety of foods and a variety of restaurants where there are so many unexplainable tastes of food she introduced.

As I have researched many articles saying that Koreans also give heart warming welcome to those especially are new to their country.

I will not let things stop me from going to South Korea, it is really the place I would love to go to and spend it with someone who was really special like friends or family. I will work hard so that I can reach my dreams and treat them without minding how much I already spend. Aja! (Fighting). Kamsahamnida (thank you) for reading chinggus (friends) . I hope it made you want to go to South Korea also. Annyeong~ (Bye)

https://www.google.com.ph/amp/s/www.klook.com/blog/k-drama-locations/amp/

@queenlupitajones

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badchoicesposts · 4 years

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Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 24

Series Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar)

DISCLAIMER: I’ve changed up the timeline of the social season a bit to fit my story better. I’ve based it off of some research I did on the British Social Season.

Taglist: @flowerpowell, @ao719, @kingliam2019, @emceesynonymroll, @hopefulmoonobject, @dcbbw, @qammh-blog, @liamxs-world, @drakesensworld, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction, @lauradowning29, @texaskitten30, @senseofduties, @alexintheskyy, @jared2612, @lodberg, @desiree-0816

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve ever written. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

Catch Up: Masterlist

Ali looked over at Liam as he fidgeted nervously in his seat next to her.

“Why don’t we start by you telling me a bit about why you decided to see me,” the middle aged woman asked.

After discussing it for a few more days, Liam had decided that he was ready to try seeing a therapist. Although he had initially agreed to it when she first mentioned it to him, he was still apprehensive about the whole process. It had also taken them some time to find someone and have non-disclosure and privacy agreements signed.

Dr. Anastas smiled kindly at the two of them as Ali took Liam’s hand in hers in an effort to comfort him. She was much more comfortable with the process because she had been through it several times, both as a teenager and as an adult, when her mental illness had become too difficult for her to handle. Liam, however, was completely new to the process, and Ali could tell he was nervous about opening up to someone.

“Well, things haven’t really been… easy for us since the beginning of the social season. It was a definite adjustment for me, and it brought up a few issues and insecurities in the both of us,” she said, referring to both her issues with her confidence and Liam’s jealousy and insecurity when it came to her friendship with Drake. “And the last few weeks have been a bit… hectic. It’s been taking a toll on the both of us, and I thought it would be a good idea to speak to someone about it. I know I’ve been bottling a lot of things up, and I don’t want to speak for Liam, but I believe he has as well. I figured it would be better to get things out in the open instead of holding it in until we couldn’t anymore and then snapping.”

“It’s great that you were able to come to that decision. However, if you don’t mind me saying, Prince Liam, it seems that you’re a bit nervous about this entire process. May I ask why?”

Liam cleared his throat a few times before speaking.

“This process is just new to me, and I have a few reservations about all of it,” he said, he looked over to Ali nervously before continuing. “My father also voiced his disagreement with the idea.”

Ali scoffed in response.

“I think it’s time your father stopped meddling in our relationship,” she said bitterly.

It took her a moment to realize just how harsh her words sounded, and she let out a tired sigh.

“I recognize that that was aggressive, and I’m working on not doing that,” she said with a cringe. “I’m sorry.”

She squeezed Liam’s hand in apology and brought it up to her lips to kiss his knuckles. She could tell that he was a bit hurt by her words, but that he also understood where her negativity was coming from.

“Well, it doesn’t take a professional to see that the topic of The King is a bit of a sensitive one,” Dr. Anastas said. “However, I want to begin by saying that this is a completely safe space to voice all of your concerns and feelings. Opening up can be intimidating, but I’m here to help you.”

They both nodded in agreement.

“Why don’t you two tell me a bit about your relationship. How did you meet?” she said, looking at them expectantly.

Ali and Liam shared a smile, both more relaxed as Liam launched into the story about their first meeting at the library.

“I knew from that very first day that Ali was someone I wanted in my life,” he concluded, looking down at his wife fondly.

They rest of the session continued without a hitch. Liam, while still nervous, was getting a bit more comfortable as the hour passed. Ali could tell that he was still holding back, but at least now he was beginning to open himself up. As the session was coming to a close, Dr. Anastas turned to Ali with a kind smile.

“Ali, is there anything you want to add before we finish up for today?” Dr. Anastas asked, turning to her.

Ali squeezed Liam’s had again.

“Liam, you were my first love, my only love. When you left New York all those years ago I felt broken, and I tried to move on, but it never felt right with anyone else. I was so unbelievably happy when you walked into the bar a few months ago. I was terrified about what was going to happen, but seeing you again was like coming home after being away for a long time. Everything has been so difficult since, and my emotions have been all over the place, but the one thing I’ve always known was that I love you, Liam. So much,” she said, tears rising in her eyes. “I’m happy we chose to get married, and I want to spend the rest of our lives together. I know it won’t always be easy, which the past few weeks have definitely confirmed, but I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work.”

Liam cradled her face in his hands and wiped away her tears. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before pulling back.

“My love, I know that choosing to come here wasn’t the easiest decision for you. I know how much you had to give up for me, how many changes to your life you had to make. Not all of them have been easy, and I wake up every day so grateful that you believed I was worth it, so grateful for the freedoms you were willing to sacrifice to be with me. Everything you’ve had to endure since coming here; the things my father put you through, the hateful comments, it was all because of me,” he said, an obvious guilty expression on his face. “I was so scared that I would lose you forever, that I would wake up one day and you would decide that it wasn’t worth it. I was afraid you would decide I wasn’t worth it. I am the luckiest man in the world to be loved by you. I have no idea what the future holds in store for us, for our child. But, I know that no matter what happens, we’ll be able to face it together.”

More tears slid down Ali’s face as she looked up into Liam’s bright blue eyes, one of his hands travelling down to rest on her stomach. In that moment she knew that no matter what the world threw at them, they would be able to face it together.

*A Few Months Later*

“If I may have everyone’s attention, please,” Constantine said, a wide smile gracing his features as he addressed the crowd. “The moment we’ve been waiting for all season has finally arrived.”

Ali stood faithfully next to Leo and Regina as everyone prepared for Liam’s coronation. Both of her hands were resting on her protruding stomach as she looked out across the room.

She and Liam had been in therapy for the past few months, and just as Ali suspected, they had both been benefiting from their sessions. They now had a safe place to voice their frustrations with everything they were dealing with. They were able to work through their feelings about the pregnancy and wedding, and the toll the reaction of the country was taking on them. They worked on their communication skills, making sure to address the fact that while Liam struggled greatly with bottling things up until he couldn’t handle it, Ali also had the tendency to shy away from confrontation. She was better about opening up than he was, but she still often shut him out when she was feeling negatively instead of expressing that something was bothering her.

Liam had made a lot of progress in his solo sessions as well, using his time to speak about the problems he had with his father. Although, he had been frustrated that he felt like he wasn’t making progress quickly enough at first, he had been able to open up and relax a bit more as time went on. He was able to finally express how frustrating it had been for him growing up and feeling as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was learning that being a monarch and leader doesn’t mean he isn’t allowed to have feelings and express them. Overall, they were both doing well. They were happy in their marriage and looking forward to Ali’s quickly approaching due date.

Ali found the faces of their friends in between the crowds of people, their proud smiles evident even from far away.

Drake had his hand on the small of Blanca’s back, and the two were walking away from the bar towards the spot where everyone was gathering. They stopped just behind Bertrand, Maxwell, and Savannah, Drake warily eyeing them up and down before returning his gaze to the king.

Drake’s breaking point throughout the entire situation was when he learned that Maxwell had known where Savannah was all along. He was angry with Maxwell for not telling him, and angry with Bertrand for getting her pregnant in the first place. He was still upset with Savannah, but he was worried that bringing it up would scare her away. He was walking on eggshells around her, afraid of being abandoned again if he said the wrong thing. However, he had begun spending more time with Blanca since the night of Savannah’s return, and Ali teasingly liked to take full credit for their budding relationship. The woman was good for Drake and obviously made him extremely happy, and she had also been helping him adjust to the entire situation.

Bertrand had been attempting to be present in Savannah and Bartie’s lives, but was failing miserably. He hadn’t even known that Savannah was pregnant, and he was painfully oblivious when it came to conveying his feelings to her and taking care of a baby. Savannah was having just as much difficulty, but she had been nice enough to answer all of Ali’s pregnancy questions, even letting her babysit a few times. Ali had somehow been forced into the middle of their messy family situation several times, and she thought that they could do with a good family therapy session as well, but she didn’t know how to say that without being insensitive. However, things seemed to be looking up. Savannah was back and that was the start of the healing process for all of them.

Ali’s eyes travelled over to where Emma and Hana were standing hand in hand. A few days after the ball, Ali and Liam had found the two of them half undressed in the middle of the hedge maze, and they had confirmed that they were indeed a couple. She was happy for them. They worked well together, and she had personally never seen either of them happier.

She then turned to see Olivia and Lizzie standing with Madeleine, Penelope, and Kiara. Somewhere it the past few months Ali and Olivia had managed to form an odd friendship. The two were closer than Ali had ever imagined they would be, and she was happy about it. Olivia turned her head from where she was previously looking at Liam and Constantine and shot the other woman a smirk. Ali returned the gesture and winked at her playfully. Olivia Nevrakis was an unexpected ally, but a good one. She was a fierce friend and a force to be reckoned with. Even if she still refused to say that they were indeed friends.

These people had been the ones she depended on the past few months. Ali had needed to work hard to prove herself. It was difficult to do when she was pregnant and dealing with mood swings, cravings, and nausea, but she had acted to the best of her abilities. She had made speeches, done volunteer work, and sat in on political meetings. She had even come to realize that she was surprisingly good at negotiations. Every time she did something right people were shocked. It was annoying to have everyone constantly waiting for her to mess something up, but it came with the territory. She had been doing well so far, and her friends had been there for her every step of the way. All she could do was continue pushing on and getting more comfortable in her position, knowing that she had an amazing husband and group of friends supporting her. She was keen on keeping her promise to prove Constantine wrong, and she had been accomplishing her goal thus far.

“It has been my great honor to serve Cordonia these last few decades. We’ve had turmoil, but Cordonia has pulled together even during our toughest times. I couldn’t be more proud to have been Cordonia’s King,” Constantine said, in preparation for the main event. “And I only now pass the crown to Prince Liam because I know he’ll carry on exactly as I have. The past few months have been a struggle to say the least. Decisions were made that not all may agree with, but I know without a doubt that I couldn’t ask for a better successor.”

Ali needed to remind herself not to roll her eyes in front of the entire court. There was no way Liam was going to carry things on exactly as Constantine had. Liam was going to be a far better king than his father ever was. There was no doubt in her mind about that. Her relationship with Constantine and Regina had been improving. They were family now, and every time she got annoyed with either one of them, she was forced to remind herself that she was doing this for Liam and their little princess. Everyone needed to get along for the sake of their family, so that’s what they did. The past still lingered in her mind, and the occasional bitterness always creeped in, but she knew that if she held onto that anger the only person she would be hurting was herself. So they made small talk, and they smiled for the cameras. Sometimes, they didn’t even need to fake it.

“Liam, I love your brother, but you will be the king that Cordonia needs,” Constantine said, turning to address Liam with a smile. “Reliable, steady, wise, just. Though you weren’t born my successor, it feels as though this outcome was inevitable. You are every bit the king I always hoped you’d be. Today, I pass the royal signet ring to you. Cordonia is yours, my son.”

Liam searched for Ali’s eyes, and she gave him a reassuring nod as he began to make his speech. She couldn’t wipe the proud smile off her face even if she wanted to.

“Thank you all for being here tonight. This is an incredible honor and a responsibility that I don’t take lightly. I only hope that I can serve Cordonia with the distinction that my father did,” Liam said, bowing to his father and stepmother respectively.

He stopped in front of Ali and pulled her into a sweet kiss, dropping his hand to her stomach. The sound of applause filled their ears as the orchestra began to play once again. Liam pulled his wife onto the dancefloor, leading her seamlessly into their first dance as the King and Queen of Cordonia.

#the royal romance #the royal heir #liam x mc #liam #king liam #trr #trh #my fics #choices #playchoices #choices fics #playchoices fic

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