#reminds me of when i worked at the grocery store 3 years ago

[somebodylovesyougcv]

This might make me sound like an actual psychopath but tonight i am watching the triple header of plan and execution/point and shoot/fun and games and it’s literally going to soothe my soul like when i was on campus abt to go to class feeling like i was gonna have a panic attack i just told myself that tonight i can watch better call saul and it’ll all be okay

#olivia’s corner #reminds me of when i worked at the grocery store 3 years ago #and would come home from work so on edge #and put on my triple header: born this way #rumors #prom queen #the best sequence of episodes in all of glee #maybe rivaled by 4.13 4.14 4.15 #or 2.14 2.15 2.16

[misshoneyimhome]

Better In Time - The Fourth Time I Frederik Andersen 🌺

Requested? sort of / No

Summary; It's been seven years since your last visit to Freddie in Toronto. However, now, with this unexpected encounter in your hometown during the off-season, the course of both your lives could be on the verge of a significant shift.

Author's notes; A few weeks ago, a kind anon sweetly reminded me that I never continued this Freddie series 🌺 Truth be told, I've been itching to write this chapter for a while now, since in fact, this was the entire premise behind the story! 🙈 And finally, it's here 🤍 (and yes, there's a next chapter...)

No warnings;

Word counts; 2.7K

Better in Time - [Prologue;] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

・✶ ｡ﾟ

July 2023

The memories of that summer in Toronto stuck with you, a mix of sweet and bitter, reminding you of the connection you once had with Freddie. You'd jetted across the sea to see him, excited to catch up and experience his new Canadian life.

But as time passed, and Freddie's whirlwind rise in the NHL took over, you felt a sense of change looming. Despite efforts to keep in touch through messages and the odd call, Freddie's budding fame and your own career back in Copenhagen pulled you apart. With each month, your conversations became fewer and farther between, fading into faint reminders of your once-strong friendship.

And though you missed Freddie deeply, you hesitated to intrude on his newfound success. He was finally getting the recognition he deserved, and you didn't want to disrupt his momentum.

So, as you settled into life in Copenhagen, throwing yourself into work and embracing the city's culture, Freddie's presence drifted further away. What was once regular communication dwindled to occasional glimpses on social media. Amidst the responsibilities of adulthood, your bond slowly faded into sporadic likes and comments.

It had been seven years since you’d last stood face to face with Freddie at Toronto Pearson Airport. Yet, as you casually turned around to head to the register, his fiery red hair was unmistakable. His imposing figure stood out among the customers nearby, and when he suddenly looked your way, his gentle smile warmed you inside. Despite the years apart, seeing him still sparked a sense of familiarity deep within you. And as you wandered through the grocery store aisles in Herning, lost in your thoughts, encountering him wasn't exactly what you had expected on a random summer afternoon.

But there he was, just a few meters away, his gaze fixed on you with a mix of surprise and recognition. You froze in place, feeling the tension in the air as you locked eyes with Freddie. Time seemed to slow down as you took in the sight of him, memories flooding back in a rush.

Your heart skipped a beat as his lips curved into a soft smile, breaking the heavy silence between you. It was a tentative gesture, acknowledging the years that had passed and the distance that had grown. Yet, underneath it all, there was a spark of something familiar, a connection refusing to fade despite time.

With a gasp, you found your voice, a faint tremor betraying the emotions swirling within you. "Freddie," you whispered, the sound barely audible over the bustling noise of the grocery store.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours as he took several steps closer, slowly closing the distance between you. "Hey, y/n," he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with warmth.

The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as you both stood there, caught in a moment frozen in time. For a heartbeat, it felt like the world around you had faded away, leaving only the two of you connected by the invisible bonds of shared history and unspoken sentiments.

"Hey Freddie, didn’t expect to bump into you here like this," you responded, managing a friendly smile despite the nervous knot tightening in your stomach. Holding onto the handle of your basket a little tighter, you couldn't shake off the slight unease that washed over you at the unexpected reunion.

But Freddie simply chuckled at your teasing remark, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Perhaps, just perhaps, you could navigate this encounter without revealing the truth that had been weighing on you for years.

"Yeah, it's the off-season, so I thought I'd better spend some time with my folks," he replied with a wry grin, his relaxed manner easing some of your nerves.

However, the brief moment of silence was broken by the sweet sound of a child's voice, bringing you both back to reality. "Mum, can we have pancakes for dinner?" The young boy bounded into your embrace; his wide smile infectious as he looked up at you eagerly.

Chuckling softly, you affectionately ruffled his strawberry blonde hair. "You really want pancakes for dinner? But Grandpa's firing up the grill, so you can have all the spareribs you want," you teased, returning his smile with one of your own.

"I love spareribs!" he exclaimed excitedly; his enthusiasm contagious.

"I know you do, love," you replied, a tender warmth spreading through your chest as you gently stroked his hair, pulling him in closer for a hug.

And as your son then turned his eyes to Freddie, a puzzled expression crossed the goaltender's face, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Mum?" he inquired softly, his gaze shifting between you and the young boy.

With a nod, you confirmed his unspoken question, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, a lot has happened in the past few years," you murmured, the weight of your secret hanging heavy in the air between you.

"Oh wow… that’s – well… congratulations," Freddie responded, his attempt at a smile tinged with a hint of confusion and a genuine sense of happiness for you. The unexpected revelation left him feeling a little off balance, but he pushed aside his own emotions to focus on your news.

"Thanks…" you replied, the weight of the unspoken truth still lingering between you.

“Mum, who is this?” your son piped up with a question, diverting the conversation. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you answered, "Oh sweetheart, this is Freddie, one of Mum’s good childhood friends," you explained, gesturing towards Freddie with a fond smile. "Freddie, this is my son, Henry."

Freddie's gaze softened as he looked down at Henry, a warmth spreading through his chest at the sight of the young boy. "Hey there, Henry," he greeted warmly, extending a hand towards the curious child. "It's nice to meet you."

Fortunately, the tension that had gripped the air began to loosen its hold, like a knot slowly unravelling. Freddie's introduction to Henry brought a warm glow to the atmosphere, softening the edges of uncertainty that had lingered between you.

And as a few more minutes slipped by, it seemed as though the awkwardness was fading, replaced by a tentative sense of ease. Yet, just as you were about to bid Freddie farewell and continue with your day, he halted you with a question that tumbled from his lips before he had even fully formed it.

"How about dinner tonight?” His words hung in the air, carrying with them a mix of spontaneity and curiosity. “I mean, what are the chances to run into each other like this..."

The unexpected proposition caught you off guard, your mind racing to find a response. "Oh, uhm… sorry Freddie, but we've sort of got plans…" you stammered softly, the words tumbling out. Despite the relief that washed over you at the thought of escaping the situation, a pang of disappointment also tugged at your heart.

Freddie's expression flickered briefly, a shadow passing over his features before he offered a resigned nod. "Right… the spareribs, yeah, sorry," he murmured, his voice tinged with a hint of disappointment.

Then another brief moment of silence stretched between you, until Henry's sweet voice broke the silence.

"Why don't you just come and eat with us?" His suggestion was simple yet sincere, his green eyes bright with excitement as he looked up at the goaltender, oblivious to the complexities of the situation. The unexpected invitation from Henry caught both you and Freddie off guard, momentarily breaking the tension that lingered between you.

Freddie's brows furrowed in surprise as he glanced between you and Henry, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Oh, uh, I wouldn't want to intrude," he replied, his tone hesitant yet touched by the genuine warmth of the offer.

But before you could interject, Henry's eager voice filled the air once more. "Please, Freddie! It would be so much fun to have you join us," he spoke oh so sweetly and polite, his eyes wide with excitement.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between the desire to maintain the boundaries you had carefully set and the longing for a sense of familiarity and connection that Freddie's presence offered.

And sensing your indecision, Freddie offered a tentative smile. "Only if it's not too much trouble, I'd love to join you for dinner," he said, his voice soft yet earnest.

Then with a sigh, you relented, the weight of your secret momentarily forgotten in the face of Henry's innocent enthusiasm. "Alright then, dinner it is," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you glanced at Freddie.

**

"Why… why did I invite him for dinner?" you remarked rhetorically, a note of frustration creeping into your voice as you set the table outside, your father by your side at his house.

“Well, technically it was Henry who invited Freddie for dinner,” your father chuckled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as he turned the ribs on the grill.

"It’s not funny, paps…" you trailed off, your mind still grappling with the whirlwind of emotions that had been stirred up by Freddie's unexpected appearance.

“Oh, come on y/n… you and Freddie have been close friends ever since you were children – it’s only natural for you to want to spend some time with each other since you’re both finally at the same place at the same time,” your father offered, his voice filled with gentle encouragement as he turned to face you with a reassuring smile.

You shook your head, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you met his gaze with a troubled expression. "You know that’s not what I’m talking about…" you replied softly.

Despite the understanding look in your father's eyes, he faced you with arms crossed and a sigh. “Maybe this is a sign that you need to tell him…” His words hung in the air, a gentle yet firm reminder of the truth you had been avoiding for far too long.

“I don’t know… isn’t it weird now that it’s been so long?” you furrowed your brows, the uncertainty evident in your voice.

“And whose fault is that?” your father cocked a brow.

“Well, it’s kind of Tom’s since he’s the one who convinced me I might risk ruining Freddie’s career by telling him, because we all know he’d be a stand-up guy, torn between choosing his career and the responsibilities of… an accident…” you explained, words blurring out and frustration lacing your tone.

“Hey, don’t call my only grandson an accident… just because the two of you were irresponsible…” your father mocked playfully, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“You know what I mean, Dad… besides, this was my choice, not Freddie’s…” you sighed, the weight of your decisions weighing heavily on your shoulders.

“Well, maybe you should just tell him anyway… y/n/n, he deserves to know, and it’s not like you expect anything from him…” your father replied with a comforting expression.

But before you could respond to your father's advice, Henry's enthusiastic voice cut through the air as he darted from the living room to the hallway, eager to greet your guest, ringing the doorbell.

"I’ll get it!" Henry shouted; his excitement palpable as he welcomed Freddie into his grandfather's home with open arms.

And as always, Freddie was the epitome of kindness and thoughtfulness. Flashing a wide smile, he presented you with a bouquet of your favourite flowers and a six-pack of your father's preferred summer beers.

"It’s good to see you again, Freddie," your dad greeted him warmly, pulling him into a masculine hug.

It wasn't a secret that your father had always held a special fondness for Freddie. Despite the age difference and the fact that he saw Freddie more as a son figure than a potential romantic interest for you, he had been nothing but supportive when you had confided in him about Henry's true father.

And as you all then settled in for a lovely summer night dinner, the conversation flowed effortlessly, buoyed by laughter and shared memories. Henry, in particular, couldn't contain his excitement, regaling Freddie with tales of his Ninjago LEGO collection and his dreams of one day becoming a pro hockey player, just like his idol.

"So, what position are you playing?" Freddie asked with a playful smile, genuinely interested in fostering Henry's love for the sport.

"Right now, we don’t really have positions… I mean, I’m sort of great at scoring goals… but I also really want to become a goalie one day," Henry explained with a sweet smile, his eyes shining with determination. “But Grandpa sort of doesn’t want me to be that right now.”

Freddie chuckled warmly, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "Oh, don’t worry, my parents told me the same! How old are you, Henry?"

"I’m six!" Henry exclaimed proudly, holding up six fingers to illustrate his point.

"Well, then you still have some years before you have to choose your final position," Freddie reassured him, his tone gentle and encouraging. "And who knows, maybe I can help convince these two here," he added with a wink, gesturing towards you and your father.

Henry's eyes lit up with excitement at the prospect. "That would be awesome, Freddie!" he exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious as he eagerly awaited what the future might hold. "Mum! Can I show Freddie my hockey cards?" he exclaimed; his enthusiasm infectious as he bounced in his seat.

Despite the tiny gulp in your throat, sensing Freddie was slowly catching on, you couldn’t help but chuckle lightly at Henry's eagerness. "Of course, sweetheart," you replied with a nod, your heart heavy with the weight of the truth you were about to reveal.

Swiftly, Henry jumped out of his chair and dashed to his room to retrieve his small collection of NHL hockey cards. Meanwhile, Freddie couldn’t contain his smile either, simply admiring the little boy you’d created and raised with such love and care.

"He’s a sweet boy," Freddie remarked, his voice filled with genuine warmth as he turned to you, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

You returned his smile with a nod and a soft gaze. But as the conversation took a more serious turn, the smile faded from your lips, replaced by a sense of apprehension.

"No dad in the picture?" Freddie carefully inquired; his tone gentle yet probing.

Your heart clenched at the question, knowing that the time had come to finally reveal the truth that had been weighing on you for years. Letting out a deep sigh, you tried to gather your thoughts, your mind racing as you struggled to find the right words.

“I think I’ll go and help Henry,” your father announced gently, sensing the need for privacy between you and your old friend.

Alone with Freddie, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. “Um… Freddie… I, um…” you began, your words faltering as you fumbled with your hands, the weight of the truth pressing down on you.

But before you could continue, Freddie's puzzled expression interrupted you. His brows furrowed in confusion as the pieces slowly began to fall into place. “Wait… he’s six?” he asked, his smile fading as realisation dawned upon him.

With a heavy heart, you nodded silently, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes… he was born in May, 2017… After… I was in Toronto… visiting you.”

Time seemed to stretch on indefinitely as Freddie processed the weight of your revelation, his expression unreadable as he grappled with the magnitude of what you had just disclosed. You held your breath, your heart pounding in your chest as you waited anxiously for his response.

Breaking the thick silence, Freddie finally spoke, his voice quiet yet filled with emotion. “So, that means…” he trailed off, his words heavy with unspoken implications.

You met his gaze with a gentle nod, your own emotions swirling as you confirmed what he had hinted at. “Yes… Freddie, he’s your son…” you admitted softly.

It was a moment of both relief and apprehension as you finally revealed the secret you had been holding onto for so long. Yet, Freddie's reaction was difficult to decipher, his expression a mask of conflicting emotions that left you on edge.

And as you sat across from each other, the reality of your shared past settling between you, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

But before the tension could stretch any further, Henry's excited voice broke through the silence once more, drawing your attention away from the weighty conversation at hand. “Look, Freddie, Look!” he exclaimed, his eyes bright with excitement as he proudly displayed his beloved hockey cards.

#queued #freddie andersen imagine #frederik andersen imagine #freddie andersen #frederik andersen #nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey imagine #carolina hurricanes imagine

[sselemit]

January 2nd 9:30pm

While waiting for the train downtown , I spotted a 5’2 about 70 YO Latina woman. Out in 30 degree weather pushing a laundry cart of groceries taller than her. Apart of me couldn’t help but be nosy. In the split moment we made eye contact 3 things me to mind.

1. I know she wasn’t gonna attempt to carry it on the train seeing how heavy it was , let alone she had no support.

2. What was she out doing this late and this cold, Portland is dangerous especially pioneer square when she’s older frail and have a cart full of food.

3. How far did she carry that from as the closest store was 1 mile on burnside

I couldn’t let suspicion get in my way and made contact I asked if when the train came she need help lifting it. I will never forget the look of her glossy eyes. She readily accepted my offer immediately. Once sat I carefully worked my way to ask questions politely, unfortunately my suspicions were true. She pushed this 30 to 40lb cart from Fred Meyers’s it was also full of pots from her apartment she’s moving from she said. I asked why alone and she said her son was at work and she wanted to pick up the last of the pots to officially be done. I asked her what stop she was headed to and it was a hour away I asked once off what’s she’s gonna do with the cart and where’s she pushing. She told me it was only half of mile but she had to carry it up the stairs. Immediately i told her i will do it if she allowed me to.

She began blessing me in the name as a god as a thank you (very common in Latino culture) we chatted for the whole hour she told me about how she didn’t want to worry her daughter and how it was her day off and she was able to push it by herself . My heart broke, such pure and nurtured mother’s love. The conversation was like a big hug to the both of us. She briefly explained he life in the United States while giving me advice lol. And I told her of mine, the Latino experience is so similar to my moms I couldn’t help but compare the too. she yawned and was visibly tired. As it’s near 11pm I help carry off the kart and start pushing.

Once we got to the apt I took each grocery bag one by one getting heavier as I near the bottom. If I struggled carrying this up the states I can only imagine what she would have felt. I didn’t step foot in her place as a sign of respect and to make her comfortable. She tried giving me cookies as a thank you as she had no money I refused. I said my blessings and prayed for her quickly blessing her new apt and warned her to be careful to be out that late by herself.

After all was said and done and I walked back to head home. Job done.

I feel as if I was meant to be there. Meant to help her, and I’m glad I did . It also left me with the lingering thought that I should take my mother out to dinner and buy her flowers. I need to remind her how much I love her.

After re reading the entire experience I think this was fate. As barely a month ago my mom got her green card. She finally reached her goal after 28 years of fear she’s finally going home to Mexico for the first time since she left for a better life.

This world can be cold and ruthless but that doesn’t mean I have to be. The conversation on that train will stick with me. Reminding me of the struggle my mother and countless other woman had to go through to make it in the country. As well as showing me how far mothers will go not to show their fear and vulnerability in sake of preserving their child’s innocence.

It’s just a shame it took me all this time to appreciate that fact.

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

tw: sexual assault, betreyal(?), puking, self harm mention, stuff like that. Sorry if it's too descriptive im really shaken

Im ftm and aroace and moved to a new town a while back and I've been trying to make some more friends so I've been going to events around town that I find interesting (mostly book related stuff, movies, etc). A while ago I went to a poet's work shop and met a guy that I thought could be a friend and we have some cool conversations about intellectual stuff.

Yesterday something similar happened where there was a small event at a book store and there was a guy and I thought we could be friends (and I though I passed? I have a gender neutral name) so we traded numbers and agreed to meet up around the same area today to continue chatting about the books we've been reading and some psychology related stuff

but he didn't see me as like another guy friend and i guess I don't pass as much as I think I do (I've been on T for 3 years and will soon get top surgery) because he thought I was a girl. I was walking back to my bus stop after we had lunch and talked and..

He pulled me around a corner into an alley area and started making out with me and I tried pushing him away but he really grabbed onto me and wouldn't stop touching me and like it kept on happening and it triggered a flashback for me and I end up freezing up a lot during those (sibling sexual abuse when I was younger) and he pushed me down and forced me to suck him and

My phone went off because there was an alarm to remind me to go get groceries on there but it was loud enough a distraction that I could bite him and pretend to answer the call and I ran out of there and blocked his number on my phone but I feel so gross and horrible and I can't get the taste out of my mouth and I threw up multiple times and had a panic attack

When I got back to the room I'm renting I brushed my teeth enough times that my gums were almost bleeding and I washed my hands with antibacterial soap and a ton of hand sanitizer and I chugged mouth wash and threw up again but I feel so fucking bad and I thought my ptsd was getting better but it's so bad and I hate myself so much for thinking I could make friends and I hate cis guys so much

is there anything I can do to make this easier? any good distractions? I tried asking my friend if I could go over to her place and hang out but she said she's too busy and I don't really have anyone else I can go ask so I'm just trying to distract myself and not self harm. On the bus ride home every time I heard a man talking I wanted to just beat them up or do something just I can't stand it

Do you have any advice or anything? please I really just want to wipe the day from my mind completely everything feels so bad and wrong and disgusting and I can't stand the thought of wearing anything less than 3+ layers of clothing that covers me completely and gloves but just the feeling of my own tongue touching my lips makes me gag. I'm sorry this is so messy I just really really really hate everything right now

Hi anon,

I'm so sorry about what happened to you. Everything you feel about what happened is valid. Please know that you are not alone.

For your own mental health, I recommend looking into getting a therapist if that is accessible or affordable for you, and if you don't already have one. Therapy can help you process this experience in a healthy way with the guidance of a professional. You deserve the highest quality care, especially during this time.

It's unfortunately important, especially as a trans person, to have whatever tools you may need to defend yourself, whether that's pepper spray or mace, rape alarm, brass knuckles, or personal safety apps like Rave Guardian or Sister that track your location and send alerts to selected contacts if you're not home by a certain time. It's also vitally important to go with a friend or someone you know if you're meeting up with someone you don't know very well.

I saw this thread that reminded me of this situation, so I wonder if that resonates with you. I also found this resource on how to practice self care after assault.

Please remember to be patient and gentile with yourself as you move forward. You went through a lot and you deserve to treat yourself with kindness. Try your best to practice self-care, whatever that means for you.

I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun

#mod bun #trauma talks #tw abuse #tw SA #tw transphobia #tw r #trauma details

[guy-j]

Things I know now, things I hope to learn, and things I wish I knew. - 8/18/2022

Today I return to my university dorm for another year of learning, not only about the world around me, but also about myself. To mark this occasion, I will be discussing some things that I have learned since I started this journey. Hopefully it is helpful, enlightening, or familiar to some of you.

1. It is normal to have no idea what you are doing. If you mess up, it can usually be fixed.

I have a rather anxious personality. Because of this, I'm constantly on my toes in new situations, concerned I will make a fatal mistake that will ruin the rest of my life in some way. Reasonably, however, this is rarely the case. For instance, there are no mistakes I could possibly make in the grocery store that will permanently alter the course of my fate. This does not stop my mind from trembling at the thought of communicating with other people in places I have not been. Going on vacation is a new ring of hell for me, as it usually involves visiting places outside of my usual haunts. Even in situations where my actions could potentially cause issues, however, I have learned that there are rarely things that you could do that will ruin everything. There is never a pit so deep you cannot leave it. I am reminded of a time a few years ago when, while working on my family cattle farm, a series of unlikely events led to an entire reservoir of feed being dumped out. This could have potentially been a several hundred, or even thousand dollar mistake. Even still, I was able to salvage the feed that was still usable and it was fed to the animals as intended. Even a mistake such as this has a solution.

2. People will rarely notice when you do something out of the ordinary. Sympathy is your most powerful tool.

In situations where I have broken a social convention through ineptitude or mistake, I have found that very few people will hold it against you, especially when you give them reason to be sympathetic. There was a time, quite recently, when I was visiting a different state than my own. Something that I had not realized, however, and that I still believe that I would have had no way of noticing, was that the public bathrooms in this state are on the opposite sides as they would be in my dear home. This led to many awkward situations, wherein I would visit the men's room, only to be greeted with some rather startled ladies. When this would happen, I would simply laugh, turn around, and say bashfully, "Oops! I'm very sorry, I could have sworn this was..." and shake my head, leaving. Visually showing embarrassment at a mistake puts others at ease, as they will typically feel sympathetic. Everyone has walked into the wrong bathroom from time to time, so they understand the awkwardness and can laugh it off. This example extends to many other parts of life, from having too little change at a checkout to dropping a loud object in a quiet place. Shrug it off, laugh, and change your behavior to compensate. Do not get caught up in punishing yourself.

3. Unpleasant people exist. Avoid them, and do not feel angry at yourself if their comments cut deep.

I always found the advice of ignoring bullies to be incredibly unhelpful. Perhaps it is because I am prone to anger that leaves me numb, shaking, and speechless, but it is difficult to think straight when something cuts at your heart. At the same time, I would often feel foolish for allowing someone to make me angry or sad, especially when I could tell it was intentional. Here is what I have realized. People will say things that make you sad and angry, whether it is intentional or not, and you should be prepared to brush it off and keep going. No one can say or do anything that will remove your worth as a person. As an addendum, you should not feel ashamed if something upsets you. As a human being, it is normal to feel things such as this. The brain will release hormones as it pleases. Even the most trained monks feel emotional. The important part is what you will do with this anger or sadness. Get away from the instigator if possible, take some deep breaths, and think of something funny or pleasant to clear your head. I find it hard to stay angry when something makes me laugh. A situation I have experienced where this came in handy was, aside from the entirety of middle through high school, clothes shopping. My body is strangely shaped, bizarrely feminine, and incredibly heavy. This makes clothing stores a toxic wasteland of body dysmorphia minefields. I can usually navigate it fairly smoothly, though, by knowing what I enjoy wearing and what looks good on me. In some cases, family members (or the occasional bold stranger!) will feel the need to comment on my choice of attire, whether it be negatively or positively. This can be frustrating, often distressing, and thoroughly unpleasant.

With these two tools, I can make the "social game" much less terrifying, even as someone afraid of nearly everything. Someday I hope to grow out of the habit to jump at shadows, but until then, I remind myself that uncomfortable things happen to everyone, sympathy is powerful, and every situation is survivable.

#guy's text. #mirrored #social anxiety #fear #cockroach mentality #survive

[botanyshitposts]

I’m looking forward to the results of your gourd experiment! My mother accidentally did something similar with her garden, resulting in what we’ve been calling the ‘zumpkin’

It’s hard enough that we haven’t managed to cut it open to look at the insides, and although it has been almost a year since it was picked it shows no signs of leaving this world.

ooohhhh! 1. obsessed with the little artistic speckles and the fact this is just a long eternal pumpkin. it’s so pretty. my only question would be what it tastes like and how on earth it lasted this long

2. this reminds me of something that I never considered until I started this project, which is that one reason people also love gourds and squashes is because they come pre-contained in a hard rind (if it’s a winter squash) and therefore you can store and eat them over the winter (thus the name ‘winter squash’) so long as you cure them in the sun right and store them in a well-ventilated cool (but not cold) cellar space. the book ive been reading on this notes taste, color, what the squash is used for, and notes if people grow them because of how long they can be stored. i read on one website that if you cure pumpkins correctly they can store up to 3-6 months in a cellar. some varieties can store longer than others, and some soft-rinded summer squashes can mature into hard winter squashes if you leave them for long enough on the vine.

i knew about the history of native americans using bottle gourds as containers for food and water thousands of years ago, and i knew about the three sisters and native mexican tribes and how to this day squashes are considered an essential crop if youre going to live off the land, but somehow i had never put two and two together about this, but I don’t know what I expected, honestly? like how to use squashes long-term for food was probably just common knowledge from when they were domesticated right up to industrialization when grocery stores became The Place Where Food Comes From and storage of produce several months in advance straight from the vine was no longer the 'normal' thing to do in urban and suburban areas (in america). like, apparently some of these bad boys are so devoted to the long-term cellar cause that putting them in the refrigerator can SHORTEN their shelf life, and somehow this delights me? like to this day, thousands of years later, the ideal gourd storage unit requires only the right information about how to cure it in the sun and a cellar constructed in the ground for insulation. that's how long people have been doing this for.

i want to know everything about this now. i have so many questions and nearly all of them are based on my understanding of How Food Works as a suburban white guy coming from a background where Food Comes From The Store And Is Instantly There In Any Amount When I Want It As Long As I Have Money. how many squashes do people grow to feed a family? what happens if a harvest fails, or something happens in storage and you lose some squashes? what is/was the optimal squash size portion-wise, like what if you're cooking and you have a squash that's way more than you need? does the 'bigger is better' rule of american agribusiness/capitalist plant breeding still apply, or do you want a range of sizes or even smaller gourds? how many kinds of squashes do you grow? etc. it seems like so much planning ahead and logistics, and that's not even the only food that gets stored for winter... i would panic constantly starting in like, july. i can see why harvest time gets so many festivals in so many cultures looking at it from that perspective. holy shit. (book recommendations about these sorts of things would be appreciated!)

im becoming increasingly convinced that squashes and gourds are the pinnacle of human plant domestication tbh, like that’s just like…. a perfect crop. sure beans and grains and corn are important and whatever but food in a colorful biologically produced hard orb you can put in your Orb Cellar for eating over the long winter..... definitely an apex vegetable on so many levels. absolutely at the top of the ladder in terms of things humans have domesticated. you cannot beat that.

#gourdposting #gourdquest #plont asks

[ppersonna]

swipe right - jjk | m

“ i wanna ruin our friendship. we should be lovers instead. i don't know how to say this, cause you're really my dearest friend “ - jenny, studio killers

♡ summary-  after a horrible breakup, you sign back up for tinder and ironically match with your best friend, jungkook. a date for fun is harmless, right?

♡ genre- best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, jk is a minecraft streamer, brother namjoon, brother-in-law jimin, namjoon is kind of a himbo stay at home dad ngl, ex-boyfriend seokjin (mentioned but doesnt show up)

♡ word count- 9k

♡ warnings- mentions of a bad breakup (smh seokjin wtf??), penetrative sex, unprotected sex (u know the business folx), oral sex (m receiving), teasing, SO MUCH BODY WORSHIP, jk is a simp, slight dirty talk, lots of just talking during sex yall it happens, creampie, cum play, praise praise body worship praise, did i mention body worship, tit-fucking, cum eating, i think thats all.

♡ a/n - helloooo and thank you for your wait for this fic! i’m so happy its done and i loved writing it! it’s a little bit different feel for my usual style of writing (smut-wise) so please tell me your thoughts! i didn’t use dom/sub themes OR a daddy kink LMAOOOO praise me please. i hope you enjoy!! pls feel free to comment, chat, message, carrier pigeon, email, mail, WHATEVER U WANT, me. i love u babies. thank you to @kimtaehyunq​ for the sexy banner. and for @xjoonchildx @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ for the writing support and idea generation. i would be nothing without my council. and thank you to my beta editors @hobi-gif and @ughseoks​ and @hongism​ for the perusal and help in writing this!

Jungkook is the person you call when your world falls apart.

He answers, voice raspy from the late hour, and the second he asks you what’s wrong, the downpour of torrential tears you’ve been holding back finally escapes and you’re sobbing through the phone that you just lost the love of your life—that he left and with little effort on his part, and a lot on yours.

Jungkook listens to you—his heart aching deep in his chest at hearing the utter heartbreak that’s clear in your voice. You’ve never been hurt like this, and he’s desperate to hold you, to make it go away. He wants to drive over to Seokjin’s house and throw a left hook into his stupid, handsome face for making you feel you weren’t worth it.

Because if there’s anything in the world that Jungkook knows, it’s that you’re worth it. You’re worth everything. Add up all the money and all the gold in the entire world, and it still doesn’t meet a fraction of what you’re worth to him.

“Where are you?” He asks as he cradles the phone against one arm and pulls on his jeans.  

You sniffle. “Jungkook, it’s 3 am.”

“So? I was up playing Minecraft,” He lies. “Where are you?”

You can’t help but laugh the tiniest bit, a sliver of warmth wrapping itself around your raw and exposed heart. Like a balm to a flesh wound. It doesn’t heal it, not yet.

“I’m at our park.”

Jungkook smiles as he grips the phone back in his hand. The park. The place you and Jungkook spent your childhood playing make-believe games, and formative teenage years loitering around smoking clove cigarettes to look cool.

“Give me five minutes, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. 

“Okay.”

Jungkook arrives with two minutes to spare. His beat up Nissan that he insists is “vintage” and “priceless” idles next to you.

He can see you through the darkened glass of your car—your mascara is running down your face, tears streaked through your flawlessly applied makeup.

You still look so beautiful.

And it angers Jungkook that all that time you spent looking good for Seokjin meant nothing to him.

He motions for you to come over, pats the passenger seat next to him and smiles as he watches you open the door and slide into the security of his familiar car.

“You cleaned your car,” you murmur as you notice a severe lack of McDonald’s trash.

He sniffs haughtily. 

“The trash added character.”

Jungkook doesn’t give you a chance to respond. Instead, he’s unbuckling his seatbelt and pulling you as close to him as he can get you. The instant his arms wrap around your body, the floodgates open again and your once-quieted tears turn back into full-fledged sobs.

“I loved him,” you gasp through the pain in your throat.

He rubs your back, pats your hair gently, soothing you the way he has for years now. Through every breakup, through every family fight with your older brother Namjoon, through all the mean girls in high school. Jungkook is the north star—always consistent, always guiding you back to safety.

“I know, babe,” he sighs. “You deserve someone who’s going to treat you right, who’s not just going to give up when things get hard.”

You choke back a cry against his Patagonia hoodie and bury your face further into the crook of his neck. He smells like Old Spice and the shampoo he uses, along with the smell of laundry soap you buy for him—he uses dish soap when he runs out and nearly broke his washing machine last time.

“I thought he was the one. I’m so stupid.”

Jungkook swallows hard. Tonight is about comforting you, not about feeling sorry for himself that you’re his best friend and not his girlfriend. He can’t help but think of what kind of life he would give you. He knows it’s one that wouldn’t end with you crying in a parking lot at 3 AM.

“You’re not stupid, you just loved him. And there’s nothing stupid about loving someone, even if it doesn’t work out,” he sighs as he cradles your head against him. It feels right having you there, pressed up against him and seeking comfort from the solace of his arms.

“Let’s go get a milkshake, yeah?” He asks as you pull your head up and look at him with sad, glassy eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod after a moment of staring.

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle with love, with hope. It makes the desperate, alone feeling inside you—disappear. Jungkook presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then starts the shaky ignition of his car, that takes three cranks of the key before it turns over.

He sends you a look, a laugh evident on your face.

“Don’t even start,” he warns. “The engine is fine.”

“Whatever you say,” you snort as you wipe an errant tear from your face.  

“It’s a certified classic car! I could get millions for this baby!”

As the weeks pass, the pain of losing Seokjin becomes further and further from your mind. You can get through the day without crying anytime you see something that reminds you of him and even start flirting with others without feeling like you’re cheating.

You just still haven’t reached the point where dating someone else even feels possible. You’re terrified of allowing someone close to you, letting them into a place where you’re inviting them to possibly hurt you. You’re not sure your heart is ready for it. 

“I think you’re just scared,” your older brother Namjoon states as he warms up a bottle of milk in boiling water. 

He cradles his new baby in one arm while the other works at the bottle of milk. 

“I’m not scared,” you huff. “I just don’t think it’s the right time.” 

Namjoon sighs and hands the gurgling newborn baby off to you and readies the bottle for you to feed your new niece, Jisoo. 

“Look, Seokjin sucks, okay? I know you two were together for some time, but in the end, he wasn’t the right one for you. There’s someone out there who is the right one for you. You know how many shit frogs I had to kiss before I got my prince?” 

You make a face as you feed Jisoo, who happily sucks and gazes at the lights above. 

“You call Jimin a prince?” 

Namjoon sighs dreamily as he watches the baby and thinks of his husband. 

“The dreamiest prince,” he breathes, eyes closed in bliss. “But back to your problems. I think you should get back out there. Go on some dates, meet some people. No one is telling you to fall in love and get married tomorrow. Just go have some fun.” 

You allow Namjoon’s words to mull through your mind. What could be the harm in joining a few dating sites, perhaps spending some time at the gym or grocery store flirting with someone cute?

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll think about it.” 

“Good. I can’t be the only one giving our parents grand-babies. Soo needs a cousin.” 

You smile down at the tiny bundle in your arms and imagine a future where you have a baby of your own. 

“Okay, I’m not trying to get knocked up, Joon.” 

“Whatever,” he sighs. “Help me choose a wall color for me and Jimin’s new master bathroom.” 

Tinder’s changed since the last time you used it, years ago. It’s gone from any semblance of dating to strictly an app used to get laid. 

It’s discouraging swiping through all the obvious fuckboys. Sure, a quick and easy lay sounds great, but you’re also trying to go out and enjoy real, traditional dates, and it seems none of these guys want to step foot outside of a bedroom. 

The swiping left becomes almost monotonous. You’re sitting on your couch, watching some documentary about serial killers, when a startling profile pops up on your Tinder feed. 

The picture that pops up is... Jungkook. You can’t stop the bubble of laughter that leaps from your chest. His profile is so authentically Jungkook that you’re swiping right before you even know it. 

Your brain doesn’t even comprehend what a match with Jungkook means, really. You’re still laughing as you click on the bubble to message him and send him as many laugh emojis as you can. 

“Hey guys, what’s up, Kookie here with another Let’s Play Minecraft video for ya. Be sure to like and subscribe if you enjoy this kind of content.”

Jungkook’s headset is firmly wrapped around his head, mic next to his mouth and hands at the ready on his mouse and keyboard. He’s set and in the zone. 

The game is well into play when the familiar chime of his phone goes off. It’s a Tinder notification—he can tell by the sound. He can’t help but roll his eyes, wondering what sort of boring conversation he’s meant to have with a girl who will probably ghost him, anyway. 

He lazily lifts his phone and glances at the notification, before dropping it back to the desk. 

His hand freezes on his mouse as he finally comprehends what he just read. 

He just matched with YOU. 

His best friend. 

His secret, lifelong crush. 

He sputters something into the microphone and stops recording his game, wildly grasping for the phone and unlocking it. 

YN: 😂😂😂😂 is your bio a Minecraft pickup line?!

He pauses, attempts to collect his thoughts, before desperately typing on his screen. 

JUNGKOOK: Why? 😉😏 did it work?

You spend the rest of your night jokingly flirting with Jungkook, sending GIFs and emojis in between the silly lines you’re using on each other. 

Right before you’re about to head to sleep, Jungkook sends one last message. 

JUNGKOOK: What if we went on a date lolol. Haha jk. Unless?? 👀👀👀

Your thumbs hover over the keys to your phone. 

A date with Jungkook? Even though you matched with him, you’ve never thought of a date with your childhood best friend. 

YN: alright, it’s only fair since we matched 😝 show me how you treat these tinder ladies

“I have a date with Jungkook tonight,” you tell your brother, Namjoon, over the phone. 

Over the crying of your newborn niece, you hear Namjoon splutter in confusion. 

“You what!?” He nearly screams. “Jeon Jungkook? Like... the annoying kid you’ve been friends with since fourth grade?”

You huff. 

“He’s not annoying! He’s my best friend. We ironically matched on Tinder and… Well, why the fuck not? Nothing serious is going to happen. We’ll go out and have a story to tell about how incompatible we are.”

Namjoon doesn’t reply. Instead, you hear him speak to his husband. 

“She’s going on a date with Jungkook,” he says over the muffle of his hand on the receiver.

There’s a shuffle, and the dulcet voice of your brother-in-law, Jimin, comes over the line. 

“Girl,” he starts. “What the fuck?”

You chuckle as you move about your closet, trying to decide what’s appropriate to wear on a date with your best friend. 

“It’s nothing!” 

“Mm-hmm,” Jimin tuts. “You know the boy is in love with you.” 

“Okay, Chim, you’ve been spending too much time cooped up with my brother. It’s affecting your grip on reality.”

“Sure, honey. I just tell it like it is. Don’t break his heart.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“I won’t break his heart because there’s nothing there, Jimin.”

“I’ll be expecting your call later.”

“Yes, dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too, sweetheart. But really, don’t break that poor boy’s heart.”

You open your mouth to retort yet another reassurance that there’s nothing to break, but the line goes dead.

“Fucking Jimin,” you mutter as you throw your phone to the bed.

You can’t allow yourself to think that Jungkook might have feelings for you. It’s totally out of the questions. He’s your best friend. The guy who shoves Cheetos up his nose to make you laugh and falls asleep during every movie night with his face in the popcorn bowl. He’s just Jungkook. This date is just a funny way to hang out.

So, why do you care so much about what you wear?

You’re still standing in front of your closet, attempting to find something respectable to wear. It doesn’t matter that the last time Jungkook saw you; it was with mascara streaming down your face and a hoodie from Namjoon’s college swimming days and ripped leggings. Jungkook has seen you in nearly everything you wear, so your indecisiveness gives you pause.

Do you want Jungkook to be attracted to you? Do you want to do your best to look as presentable as you would for a normal date?

The thudding of your heart tells you that maybe you’re more interested in this being a date than you’re allowing yourself to believe.

You shake all thoughts off. 

No, you won’t allow yourself to overthink a night that should just be fun.

You settle for a fitted and simple summer dress, tights and heels. Simple, easy, respectable but also showing enough cleavage and sculpt of your ass to ensure you look more dressed up than not.

Perfect.

With one last look in the mirror, you’re ready.

JUNGKOOK: I’m outside!

ME: See you soon!

Jungkook taps his foot anxiously as he sits on the bench outside your apartment. His tight black jeans feel like a second skin on his legs, and the black button-down shirt he’s tucked in makes him rethink his choice of outfit.

Is he too casual?

He’s never really worn something like this around you. This is what Jungkook wears when he wants to seduce. This is what every girl he’s desperately wished was you got to see. The girls who swooned over his messy hair, the way his jeans display his toned thighs, the peek of skin at his throat.

Maybe it’s too much.

Maybe he’s afraid he’ll scare you away.

Maybe he’s afraid you won’t like it.

He’s given no chance to ruminate anymore because you’re exiting the building and walking straight towards him.

He doesn’t think he remembers how to breathe.

It’s as if you walk towards him in slow motion. Angels chorus around him and the setting sun sparkles on your face like a spotlight. There’s nothing in the world anymore, nothing but you.

You’re the most beautiful human he’s ever seen in his life.

“Hi,” you smile as you approach him.

He continues to stare, eyes traveling over the soft curves of your cheeks and jaw, trailing down to the way your dress clings just right to each dip of your body. His throat goes dry.

You are without a doubt the girl of his dreams. 

“Jungkook?”

It pushes him out of his reverie, eyes widening as he realizes he’s been staring at you for maybe a few minutes too long to play off as normal.

“Hey!” He coughs, attempting to right himself.

“You okay?” You ask, eyebrow lifted in concern.

“Yeah! Yup! Totally! I’m okay—a-okay, absolutely great.” He internally slaps himself.

“You clean up nice,” you smile as your eyes elevate up and down the lean form of his body.

“Oh?” He asks, taken aback. 

In his daze, he never even realized what you’re thinking about him, rather only how intensely he was thinking about you.

“This must be the Jungkook that all the girls in college couldn’t stop begging me to hook them up with.”

His cheeks flame with sudden embarrassment, hand moving to the back of his neck to rub it awkwardly. 

“Ha, yeah,” he swallows. “You look r-really nice too. I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since your brother’s wedding.”

The smile that he’s rewarded with nearly knocks him on his ass. “Thanks! It’s fun to dress up cute again. Jin hated this dress.”

A stab of pain eeks its way into Jungkook’s heart. Seokjin. God, how he hates that man.

“Well, uh, you can wear whatever you want with me!” He assures. 

You loop your arm around Jungkook’s, saddling up to his side as you look at him expectantly.

“Well, are we going?”

Jungkook can’t help but smile at the sparkle in your eye, the way you peer up at him with those soft, cherry lips. He wants to capture them with his own, kiss you until you don’t remember Seokjin’s name ever again.

But he resists.

“Let’s go!”

You never thought you’d admit it to yourself. You never even thought it could happen. 

But the date is everything you’ve ever wanted, and more. 

Jungkook is still Jungkook, still just as silly and easy to talk to as he always is. 

But he’s also charming. Flirtatious, even. He holds doors open for you; he rests his hand on the small of your back as he guides you towards your table at dinner. He feeds you bites of his dessert and lets his eyes linger on the way your lips look wrapped around his fork. 

Jungkook treats you the way you’ve always wanted to be treated. Like someone he wants to cherish for the rest of your combined lives. Someone he wants to take care of, build a future with, enjoy life with.

And as much as it thrills you, it absolutely frightens you. 

It’s when you’re walking down the small river trail together that Jungkook slips his hand into yours and laces your fingers together. The once-steady beat of your heart becomes erratic. He continues chatting—as if holding your hand was a subconscious act for him. He’s knee deep in a story of his Minecraft server when you stop walking, causing him to pause. 

“What’s up?” He asks curiously. 

Your eyes glitter with anticipation, with fear, as you stare at the gorgeous man before you. He looks like a full course meal in his tight jeans and he makes you feel like a princess. You can suddenly see doing life by his side—no longer his platonic best friend, but as his lover and lifelong partner. 

You say nothing. Instead, you simply close the space between you two by grabbing the buttons of his shirt and tugging his lips onto yours. 

“Wha—oh, mmmmmm.”

Jungkook is still for a second as he battles the surprise, but jumps into action and cups your face with his hands, deepening the kiss by pushing his tongue past your lips and swirling it around your own. 

Your bodies press close together. He can feel your breasts against his chest and he desperately wants to rip the dress off your body and worship you like he’s always wanted to. 

As soon as the kiss started, it’s over. You’re pulling away with eyes wide with fear.

“I’m sorry, I—I need to go,” you stammer awkwardly.

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach.

“What? We were going to get ice cream?”

You can feel tears building in the corners of your eyes. You’re so confused, so unsure of what you’re feeling. You want to stay and kiss Jungkook until you’re clawing at the clothing on his body, pressing kisses to the firm column of his neck. You want to run far away, too scared to admit it to him you’re sure you could love him for the rest of his life.

You can’t lose that friendship. You can’t risk everything you love about Jungkook. He’ll only hurt you the way every boyfriend ever has.

“I don’t really feel well,” you swallow hard as you lie. Jungkook always knows when you’re lying.

His body stiffens.

“Okay, let me walk you home.”

You shake your head, already moving away from the man.

“It’s fine. We’re nearby. I’ll just run or something.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you’ve already turned face and started running the direction away from him.

Jungkook watches, misty-eyed, as the girl of his dreams runs further and further away from him.

You’re sobbing as you finally reach home, out of breath and confused. The phone call to Namjoon is quick.

“Yo,” he says cooly as he answers the phone. His tone changes when he hears your whimpering sobs on the other end.

“Joonie,” you whisper. “I fucked up.”

“Oh god,” Namjoon quickly shuffles and calls his husband over, before putting the phone on speaker.

“What’s happened, baby?” Jimin’s sweet voice asks.

“I—I kissed him,” you sob, holding yourself close in the comfort of the elevator. 

Namjoon and Jimin look at each other with knowing looks.

“We’re on our way over.”

Jimin knows the first order of business is to stop the crying. He places sleeping baby Jisoo in your arms, which quiets your whimpers enough as you cling to the tiny baby. He knows your weakness is sleeping babies.

Namjoon looks on anxiously, hates seeing his little sister upset and with no way to make it better.

Jimin’s been asked to take the lead on this, because he knows his husband's response is to cry as well—he gets emotional anytime he sees her cry. Namjoon agreed, knowing Jimin was better suited for the conversation.

“Tell us what happened,” Jimin asks quietly. You’re rocking the baby gently, sobs turned to sniffles. “Did something go wrong on the date?”

Your eyes peer up at your brother-in-law’s, a wounded look that makes Jimin feel sad. Namjoon clenches beside him, and Jimin lays a hand on his lap to soothe the protective brother.

“No,” you whisper. “That’s the thing. It was an amazing date.”

Jimin watches you curiously, but remains silent to let you continue.

“We had dinner, and we played arcade games and we walked around. And he was so… fuck, he was perfect. It was like dating the guy of my dreams.”

Jimin nods knowingly.

“And it surprised you how much you liked him.”

“Yeah,” you sniffle. “At the end, he was holding my hand and just talking about normal, stupid Jungkook shit, but this time it felt like more. Like, I felt in my heart that I wanted to be the one he always talked to about it. I wanted to be the one he came home to at night.”

Jimin pats your cheek lovingly, the care for his sister-in-law clear in his gaze. 

“You don’t just like him, honey. I think you might even love him.”  

You pull baby Jisoo tighter into your grasp and nod, pathetic tears slipping down your face. 

“I just left him. Like, I ran away from him like an asshole.”

Namjoon grunts and takes a spot next to Jimin. “If he loves you, which I’m sure he does, he’ll still be waiting for you.”

Jimin nods and rests a hand on his husband's back. “But you better have one hell of an apology.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your phone calls. He doesn’t respond to your texts, snapchats or Instagram DM’s. He doesn’t even look at the TikToks you sent him! It’s becoming infuriating to get in touch with him.

You take matters into your own hands and storm to his apartment after work, the rising tension in your shoulders and stomach full of rocks an indicator of your anxiety about the future of this relationship.

Jungkook opens the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweats. All the carefully crafted words exit your mind at light 

speed and you’re left gasping, wide-eyed at the chiseled body of your best friend.

“Can I help you?” He asks, tone flat.

Ouch.

You push past him into the apartment you know so well. “Yeah, you could start by answering your phone.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and closes the door, then heads back towards the large gaming setup in the living room.

“My apologies for not responding to the girl who literally ran away from me on a date.”

Your cheeks heat uncomfortably as you stand in the center of his living room, arms crossed over your chest. 

“Jungkook, listen. I’m—”

“Please,” he shakes his head as he sits down at the impressive gaming chair. “Save the apologies. I get it.”

“You don’t get it!” You say, exasperated. “You don’t get any of it! That’s why I’m here.”

Jungkook narrows a look at you then stands from his chair. Slowly, he makes his way towards you and stands inches from your face. The proximity of his bare, toned chest to your body makes your throat dry.

“No, you don’t get it.” His voice is threateningly quiet, completely different from his usual chipper tone. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” He quirks his head sarcastically, and you’re struck by the sharp lines of his jaw. “Sorry for running away from the date? Sorry for going on a date? Sorry for making me feel like I had a fucking chance when you kissed me?”

You swallow hard and open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry too. For giving myself way too much hope that this could ever be something. I’m sorry for myself for thinking you’d at least respect me enough to reject me politely.”

“You always had a chance!” You can feel tears building in your eyes and Jungkook feels his heart pound in his chest like a drum.

He scoffs, a harsh and mirthless laugh. “Clearly not.”

“I just—,” you start. “I never saw you like that before and suddenly you became everything I’ve ever dreamed of. It was like getting hit by a train, Kook! Suddenly my best friend turned into the man of my dreams.”

He shakes his head, stepping back away from you.

“I really find it hard to believe you,” he whispers. “I can’t let myself hope.”

“Jungkook, please,” you beg as tears start slipping down your face. “Please believe me.”

“Just leave,” he sighs. “I hate making you cry.”

You want so badly to wrap yourself in his arms, cry into his chest like you always do when you’re hurt. But you stand still, frozen in your shame and embarrassment of hurting your best friend so badly.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, before you spin around as quickly as you can and leave Jungkook’s apartment in a flurry.

He watches as the door slams behind you, eyes full of sadness and regret. As much as he wants to believe you, have faith in every word you said, he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up again.

He can’t watch you run away from him again.

“Welcome back to Kookie’s Wild Weekly Walkthrough!” Jungkook cheers as enthusiastically as he can through his microphone. “The weekly segment where I react to your Minecraft worlds!”

Jungkook needed to dive back into streaming to take his mind off of you. He hasn’t left his apartment in days, only subsisting on takeout and coffee. At least he was making more money and his subscribers didn’t seem to mind the up-tick in content.

“Tonight I’ll be walking through a creation sent by,” he squints at the username. “‘Kookiesgal95’ Aww that’s cute.”  

He readies the content and starts his camera as he watches the YouTube link. His subscribers love his reaction videos—it’s a highly requested segment.

The video starts off easily, a generic Minecraft world that looks like a park.

“Hi Kook.”

The voice that reverberates through his headphones makes him pause the video quickly, wide-eyed with recognition.

It’s you. He’d know that voice from a million others. 

Shit. He’s going to have to edit so much of this clip. He’s staring at the screen as if he’s just seen a ghost.

Unsteadily, he clicks play again and watches as you lead him through your Minecraft creation.

“I wanted to recreate something for someone very special in my life.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother to react to this anymore. This entire video is going to be worthless—there’s nothing he can say.

The video pans around the Minecraft setup and he can see what looks like handmade swings and merry go rounds.

“It took me a really long time to do this and an embarrassing amount of help from some twelve-year-olds on the internet.”

He laughs and is stunned by the wet tears rolling down his cheeks. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

“I re-created a park that is really special to my best friend and I.”

He feels his chest tighten and relax. The park. 

“This is the spot where he held me when my dog died when I was nine. I still miss that dog.”

The view is on a spot next to a blocky oak tree. Jungkook remembers that day, remembers your heartbroken sobs as he whispered words of comfort to you. He misses that dog, too. 

“This is where he and my brother got in a fight when we were eleven, because my brother called me a stupid-head. My best friend has always been protective of me, even from my own big brother.”

He can still remember pushing Namjoon around after hearing him call you names. He pushed Namjoon over and threatened to use his “big muscles” if he did it again.

The camera pans to an enormous structure, rather sloppily made, of a slide and monkey bars.

“This is where we first shared a joint in high school. I coughed a lung up and he ran down the street to a gas station at ten pm to get me a bottle of water even though I told him I was okay,”

The memory of the bewildered 7-11 employee plays through his mind. The man watched as a very stoned, very out of breath, Jungkook paid for a bottle of water in coins.

The video continues playing, moves towards what appears to be a parking lot made of cobblestone blocks.

“This is where he held me when my world fell apart.”

The break-up. The way you cried and cried and cried in his arms and he held you as if you were the only thing left on Earth. 

“This is where he reminded me I’m worthy of love, that I’m not broken. This is where he held me like I was delicate, but treated me like I was unbreakable.”

His tears don’t stop. Jungkook feels his heart thundering in his chest like a summer storm. 

He can hear your sniffles through the recording of the video—you were crying too. It pans around to the swing set.

“And this is where I’ll tell him everything, tonight. Where I’ll tell him how deeply I love him and how I want to make him the happiest guy in the world. In all of Minecraft and beyond. I hope he comes.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother turning his camera off.

Instead, he’s running to change out of his three-day-old clothes and bolt out the door.

The creaky, rusty metal of the swing set is deafeningly loud in the silence of your park.

It’s dark, just a few street lights around to illuminate the perimeter, but it’s otherwise only lit by the moon.

It’s getting cold. You shiver in your hoodie and kick at the dirt under your swing. 

Maybe he didn’t see the video. Maybe he wasn’t going to show.

Maybe it was too late.

You spent hours working on the Minecraft world, staying up at all hours of the night to build and craft a poor re-creation of this park. The twelve-year-olds on Reddit had been invaluable and Namjoon definitely made fun of you for your creative assistants. But it had all been worth it. 

“Fuck,” you speak out loud to no one, as you try to warm your hands in the pockets of your sweater. “It’s cold.”

“You should have brought a jacket.”

The sudden voice from behind startles you. You hop off the swing and whip around to face  down the intruder.

Jungkook.

He looks so good. He’s wearing a thick coat and tight jeans. Your eyes take a delicious journey from head to toe.

He can’t help but preen at your blatant appreciation. He enjoys knowing you’re attracted to him, at least physically.

“You came.”

He nods and takes a nervous step towards you. He’s still far away, more than an arm's-reach away. You’re desperate to bring him closer, to pull him tight against your body and wrap yourself around him. You never want to be without his gentle touch again.

“I felt pretty compelled to come after you made all this in Minecraft for me.” He cracks a wry smile, a boy-ish grin that makes your heart flutter.

“It took me twenty-five hours and some teenagers to help.”

He laughs, a beautiful sound that warms you. “I’m sure they were ecstatic to help.”

You chew at the inside of your cheek, nervous at what he thinks about your in-game confession.

“Did you mean it?” He asks. He steps closer—one more step.

“Every word.”

His eyes are searching yours for the truth, desperately diving into the depths for validity.

“Why did you run away?” Another step.

You swallow hard, heavy tears brimming in your eyes.

“You went from being the silly best friend to being the person I could spend the rest of my life with. It all hit me. It’s always been you.”

One more step and now he’s just within your reach. If you stuck your hand out, your fingers would graze the soft puff of his coat, the delicate skin of his neck. 

“I’ve always felt that way about you. I never thought you’d feel the same.”

You smile softly, timidly. “It just took me a little while longer to realize it.”

All at once, Jungkook closes the gap and holds you gently by your cheeks. His thumbs wipe at the moisture under your eyes. 

“I promise to never make you cry again,” he whispers reverently. 

“And I promise to never run away from you again.” 

Jungkook smiles at that, cradling your face like you’re the most expensive and precious jewel. 

“Can I kiss you again?” He asks, somewhat unsure of himself. 

“I would like it if you would.”

As Jungkook presses his cold, plush lips to your own, you make a promise to yourself to never go a day without kissing him again. 

“I can’t believe you’re in my bedroom,” Jungkook murmurs as he kisses at your face. After the park, Jungkook loaded you into his priceless Nissan and scurried home. You could hardly keep your hands off him as he drove you back to his place—reaching and caressing the spots on his body you’re dying to become familiar with. 

“I’ve been in your bedroom before,” you remind him as he tugs up the hoodie you’re wearing. 

“God, don’t be so semantic when I’m trying to fuck you,” he says before throwing the hoodie to a corner of the room. “You know what I mean.”

Jungkook kisses you again, all lips and teeth and tongue. He kisses you like you’re the last breath of air, and he’s greedy for every bit. He grips your hips, not too tight, and brings your body against his. You can feel him grow in hardness in his too tight, and it feels like bliss. 

Teasingly, you grind your hips against his, making him shudder with desire.

“I want you,” he whines as he nibbles at your lip. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He opens his eyes to level a look at you, pulling his mouth away from yours. 

“You’re such a little smartass.”

His hands become feverish on your jeans, tugging apart the button and flicking down the fly. He pushes them down quickly, and you kick them off carelessly. 

He can’t stop looking at you in your bra and panties, standing at the foot of his bed. 

“Holy shit, okay, this is happening, right? Like, this is real?” 

You smirk, pleased with Jungkook’s obvious excitement. 

“Let me prove it’s not just a dream.” 

Softly, you spin Jungkook around and push him down to sit on his bed. He complies easily, eyes wide and excited. 

“If this is a dream, would you be able to feel this?” You ask as you unbuckle  his belt and open his jeans. He doesn’t reply, simply watches you as you tug his jeans down to his thighs. 

His cock strains hard against his tight boxers, and you run a teasing finger over the obvious bulge. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathes. 

“Feels pretty real, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” 

Your delicate hands gently tug at the waistband of his boxers and easily work them down enough to free the length of his cock. It springs out easily and your eyes widen at the impressive size. You assumed he would be at least average, but you’re looking at something definitely more. 

“Oh wow,” you whisper. “You’re fucking huge.” 

Jungkook grins. “All for you, baby.” The cockiness is palpable. 

One solid grip around him wipes the presumptuous smile off his face, replaced with a gasping, shuddering moan. 

“How about this? Not a dream?”

He struggles to find his voice, instead he’s gulping for air like a fish out of water. 

“That’s what I thought,” you whisper before settling into a position on your knees. “I’ll admit, I’ve dreamt about this too. I always felt so ashamed for dreaming about sucking my best friend's cock.”

You press soft kisses to the head of his length, teasing the sensitive areas at the tip before kissing up and down the length. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

His evident desire for you encourages you, and your tongue swipes at the crown of his tip and swirls around it gently. 

“Oh my god.” His eyes shutter closed and you trace the veins in his dick with your tongue. 

“This h-has to be a dreeeaaaaam,” he whines as you make an exceptionally long stripe with the flat of your tongue. 

You pull off for a moment, humming. He springs his eyes open and watches as you reach behind your back and unsnap your bra. Your breasts escape with a bounce and his eyes widen, nearly bulging out of their sockets. 

“What the fuck,” he whines. “You have the most amazing tits.”

He reaches out to grasp them and you slap them away playfully. 

“Not yet,” you smirk. “Still trying to convince you you’re not asleep.” 

He sucks in his breath and puts his hands back to the bed to steady himself, eyes never leaving yours (except to stare at the luscious curves of your body). 

Grasping your breasts in both hands, you smash them together lightly in an elaborate show of what Jungkook wants most. You lean over his body and place the throbbing thickness of his cock in between your tits, allowing him to feel just how soft and warm they are. 

“Shit!” He yelps, grabbing his sheets in a tight fist. “Are you really tit-fucking me right now?!”

Slowly, you lift your body up and down, allowing his cock to feel each stroke of your breasts. You nod at his question and continue to pump up and down. 

“Still dreaming?” 

He whines and shakes his head, already feeling so close to the edge. His cock is slick from your teasing licks and the pressure of your tits surrounding him had his mind spinning with desire. 

“Ahhh, I’m so fucking close,” he warns.

You continue, speeding up the friction and pressure of your strokes. 

“I want you to cum on me, Kook,” you whisper encouragingly. “Cum on my tits, please?”

Jungkook feels like he’s a wire about to snap, and your thick, sultry voice and incredibly perfect breasts are the snips that breaks him apart. 

“Oh, shit,” he grunts. “Gonna paint your titties white, baby.”

His moans echo around the walls of his bedroom, small gasps of pleasure and your name escaping his perfectly plump pout. 

His hot load splatters on your chest, and you stroke him through each pulse of his cock. You’re slippery with his seed now, and when you pull away from his spent length, you make a show of rubbing in his cum over your chest.

“Okay, definitely not dreaming,” he says in a daze as he watches you lift a wet finger to your mouth, popping it in to clean it off. “Who knew you were so fucking kinky?” 

His confidence grows as he catches his breath. He can’t believe he’s sitting on his bed with you on your knees, breasts covered in his load. You’re suckling the cum off your finger like it’s his cock, and he’s desperate for more.

“There are lots of things you don’t know about me,” you shrug. 

Swiftly, he grabs you gently by your bicep and pulls you close, sucking at your lips until you’re both standing. 

“I plan to find out everything.” 

Suddenly, you’re switching positions and Jungkook is pushing you down into the bed. You lay flat in the center, body relaxed and eager for your best friend.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He’s still standing at the end of the bed, watching you get comfortable. Once he’s satisfied that you’re lying exactly how you want, he settles himself by your feet.

“Worshipping you,” he says as he lifts an ankle and presses gentle kisses to your calf. “Showing you how much I adore you.” More kisses, soft and sweet. “Showing you how I plan on treating you for the rest of your life.” 

He takes his time, lavishing your legs with his mouth. He kisses and sucks at any spot, sexual or not. He mouths at the roundness of your knees, your firm hamstrings. He presses his love into the skin of your thighs, mouthing his praises with each kiss. 

He reaches the dip of your hips and he gently kisses your exposed skin as he tugs your cotton panties off you. 

“I have loved every inch of you since before I can remember,” he praises as his lips skim over the mound of your cunt. “And I don’t plan on stopping soon.” 

Your body feels like it’s on fire, as if Jungkook lights a match at every spot his lips press against. Your eyes close, and you allow Jungkook to continue his pious worship of your body. 

He teases around your folds, kissing your labia ever so gently—making you gasp. He doesn’t linger long, only kisses you enough to stir the licking flames of heat in your belly.  

He kisses at your stomach, gently nibbling and laving at the softness there. You try to hide from him, try to hide your insecurities of your body in his thorough exploration, but he moves your hands. 

“I know you don’t like this part of your body,” he murmurs. His voice is so soft, so pure and sincere. “But I do. I love everything about you.” 

His tongue swirls around your belly button, making you gasp at the ticklish sensation. 

“You’re so pretty. So perfect.” 

He continues upwards, lips now trailing to your full breasts. He takes his time there, licking and kissing and flicking at your nipples with his tongue. It feels exhilarating—Jungkook’s mouth feels like everything you want it to feel like. His tongue is warm, and he bites with just enough pressure to make your back arch off the bed into his embrace.

His hands explore, taking stock of every millimeter of skin he can find. He wants to memorize every freckle, every bump, every scar and line. Your body is his paradise, and all he can think of is you, you, you.

One hand travels down your body as he moves his lips up your neck. It snakes down your stomach and deftly slides over your soaked core. You whine as you feel his fingers part your folds and dip into the wetness.

“So wet,” he says out loud, verbalizing every tantalizing detail of your body. “So perfect.”

His lips are finally at your own and you kiss him passionately, tongue swirling around his as he slides his two fingers past your clit and into your drenched hole. You gasp against his mouth, eyes widening as he slowly scissors his fingers into you and pumps slowly. It’s almost teasing, the way he fucks his fingers in you. Slow, firm movements with his powerful hands.

“Jungkook!” You gasp. He doesn’t reply, instead he bites at your lip and tugs, then trails his hot mouth back down to your nipples. He can’t get enough of your breasts and the slightly salty taste of him still lingering.

“You feel so good,” he says as he speeds his fingers up minutely. “So tight and wet for me.”

Your hips writhe in need. He’s giving you what you need, but not enough. You need more, more. You want to feel him, all of him, spearing you open.

“Please, Kook,” you groan. “I need you.”

He laughs softly against your nipple and sucks extra hard, letting it pop out of his mouth audibly.

“And I need you, my love.”

“Fuck me, please.” You’re desperate, thighs quaking from the slow teasing. “I want you to fuck me, Jungkook.”

Chills shudder down Jungkook’s spine and he’s powerless to say no, not when you demand it so well.

“With pleasure,” he agrees. He pulls his fingers from within you and copies your move, sliding them into his mouth to suck your essence off. 

He’s never looked sexier. His eyes are dark chocolate pools of burning intensity, and you feel your breath become shaky as you watch him clean his fingers with precision.

After he’s deemed his fingers sufficiently clean, he settles himself between your legs. Easily, he lifts your hips and shoves a pillow underneath, elevating you to a more comfortable position. He grabs your legs and tosses each over his shoulders so they’re higher in the air. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he promises as he rubs the tip of his cock on your soppy slit. “Condom?”

You shake your head, appreciative of his question but desperate to feel him completely.

“Birth control. Regularly tested. Haven’t had sex in a while,” you blurt out. “You good?”

He nods in agreement. “Same. Well, except the birth control. But, I’d take it if they made it for men.”

“Jungkook!” You whine. Your best friend is so easily sidetracked. “Please, can you fuck me?”

He grins. “Tsk, someone is impatient.”

A low moan is rumbling in your chest as he continues to rub his thick cock at your entrance.

“I swear to god, you’re the biggest tease.”

“Oh, I’m definitely the biggest.”

Before you can react, he’s pushing past your entrance and sliding deep in your walls. Your position makes his cock feel deep, and he bottoms out and stills there, eyes closed in bliss.

“Holy shit,” he gasps. “This is absolutely the best pussy I’ve ever felt.”

You wiggle your hips as you get used to the sensation of the delicious stretch.

“Please don’t tell me how many pussies you’ve felt when you’re balls deep inside of me.”

Jungkook turns his head and kisses at your legs resting on his shoulders, lavishing them with his praise once more as he keeps his cock buried inside your tight heat.

“Yours is the only one that matters. The only pussy I’ll ever be in for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good answer,” you smile. “Now, fuck me, lover boy.”

Jungkook winks and grips your hips with his hands. He swiftly pulls out, enamored with the way his cock is already covered in your creamy essence, then eagerly pushes back in. He sets a pace and soon the sound of skin clapping on skin echoes around the room.

“Oh god!” You’re moaning loudly, unabashedly. You’re thankful that Jungkook’s old roommate, Yoongi, moved out to live with his boyfriend Hoseok months ago. He’d definitely complain about the noise for months. “Fuck, Jungkook, you feel so good.”

Jungkook fucks into you with ferocity, speed and power gradually rising as he feels his core tighten with the coming anticipation of release.

“Mmm, you look so fucking sexy like this,” he murmurs. “Getting fucked by your best friend’s fat cock.”

He moves a hand from your hip, trails it up your body to squeeze at your breast, before he’s cupping your face once again. His hips snap against yours and he loves the way your mouth utters little squeaks and gasps with each deep thrust into you.

“God, my beautiful girl,” he groans. “Can’t wait to cum in this pussy, shit, you got me so fucking close.”

You open your mouth desperately and Jungkook easily slips his thumb in. You latch on quickly and suck, tongue swirling around the tip like you’re sucking another cock. It nearly sends him over the edge and the speed of his hips matches his desperate need for more.

“Fucking hell,” he bites back. He can feel his belly tighten, driven further and further to the edge by the constricting wetness of your cunt. 

He pulls his thumb out and moves it down to where his cock spears into you, allowing your spit to swirl with his thumb around your clit. Your core tightens around him at the added stimulation and your back arches up in ecstasy.

“I’m so c-close, Kook,” you plead, as if begging for mercy. “Please, I want to cum so bad.”

The speed of his thumb increases, and he watches as your face twists in pleasure and desperation. 

“Cum on my cock, baby, let me see you fall apart. Show me what I’ve dreamt of for so long.”

A high and wanton cry ripples out of your body as he savagely increases his speed, both his cock and thumb working overtime to drive you towards your end. The butterflies that erupt in your lower stomach make your moans louder, higher. You’re so close, closer than ever. It’s building to an incredible crescendo.

He can tell you’re close—he sees it on your face as your back arches and your fists grip his sheets.

“You look like a fucking angel, baby,” he whines as he soaks in the vision of you writhing underneath him. “I bet you cum like an angel, too. Let me see it, let me see.”

With just a few more swirls of his thumb and his deep, hard strokes, you’re soaring over the edge into a pool of nothingness. Your cunt pulsates wildly around his length, milking and stroking it with your tight walls. You throw your head back, moaning out his name at the top of his lungs, letting his neighbors know just who fucks you so well.

“Holy shit,�� he gasps, hips stuttering as he fucks into your juicy hole. “That was so fucking sexy.”

You grip his forearms, holding onto him tight and encourage him to go harder. “Cum inside me, Kookie, please. I’m all yours, make me yours.”

His heart feels like it might burst in his chest. He’s always wanted you to say it to him, to hand over your love to him like he does so easily to you. It’s all so much, so overwhelming, and the feeling of your hot cunt still fluttering around him sends him reeling into his own completion. 

He spills into you, warm seed coating your walls and pooling inside your womb. He fucks himself through each throb of his cock until he’s sure he’s drained every ounce of himself into you.

Your legs slip off his shoulders easily, and he gently pulls himself out of you. He falls beside you, panting with exertion, and wraps an arm around you.

After a few silent moments of catching your breath, Jungkook pulls you in close to him until he can koala-cling to you, arms and legs both wrapped around your body.

“Mine,” he whispers as he kisses your head. “All mine.”

You return the favor, clinging to your best friend—boyfriend—like he’s your only lifeline.

“All yours.”

“So, you’re telling me, you got together because of Minecraft?” Jimin asks, pointing a fork in your direction. It’s been months now since your grand virtual declaration of love for Jungkook. Months of bliss and romance, laughter and companionship. 

You were right all along. Jungkook is everything you’ve wanted in a man and more.

You’re sitting at your brother’s expensive dinner table, enjoying a meal with his family with your boyfriend at your side.

“Yeah, Jimin, I guess that’s what I’m saying,” you retort as you roll your eyes. “Minecraft and Tinder.”

Baby Jisoo is awake and in your brother’s arms, but she’s whining and wiggling to leave him.

“What’s wrong, Soo?” Namjoon asks with a pout on his lips. “Why don’t you want daddy anymore?”

Jimin snorts at his husband and you hold out your arms for your baby niece. “Come here, baby, I know you want auntie.”

Namjoon dutifully hands over his daughter, sulking that he’s been picked over for his sister. 

You cradle the baby in your arms, expecting her to calm once she’s there, but she continues to fuss. She’s thrusting her arms out and nearly crying, reaching towards Jungkook who’s busy chowing down on Jimin’s homemade ramen.

“I think she wants you, Kook,” you murmur. He looks at you, then to the baby, then back to you, before he wipes his hands and face clean with a napkin.

“Oh, okay,” he whispers, slowly taking the baby from your arms with your help. “Hello, ma’am.”

Namjoon and Jimin laugh. “She’s a baby, Jungkook, not an elderly woman,” your brother teases.

Jungkook doesn’t listen. He’s too busy cooing at the baby in his arms and playing with her tiny hands. Namjoon turns his attention away and looks at you.

“Guess I won’t be the only provider of grandchildren for much longer.”

You playfully glare at him and turn away to watch your boyfriend. Watching Jungkook interact with your niece makes your heart swell, your soul sing. He’d be a perfect father.

“I swear, if he teaches her how to play Minecraft, he’s banned from the household,” Jimin grumbles. “This is a No-Nerd-Zone.”

Jungkook cradles the child and rocks back and forth, singing her a soft, made-up song, before he looks over at you.

“Hey, I want one of these,” he smiles. “Can we have one?”

You lay a hand on your stomach, a soft bump not quite visible yet. It’s only been one test, the lines faintly indicating ‘positive’ on the stick. You wanted to make sure, get confirmation before you spill the beans.

“Sure, Kookie.”

He grins and leans over to kiss you, before turning his attention back to the baby. “Okay, Jisoo, now let me tell you all about the Endermen.”

Jimin groans. “Oh my god, do not give Minecraft facts to my infant!”

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[introvertguide]

Abuse of Children Portrayed in Film

I like to use movies as an escape from the harshness of the real world and one of the things that I have learned about in my education is the effects on children when they are mistreated. I have a Masters Degree in Developmental Psychology and one of the hardest classes for me to handle was Abnormal Development in Children and Adolescents. We covered everything from dealing with dyslexia and ADHD to surviving severe abuse and loss at a very early age. We had guest speakers that ranged from people who had escaped genocide as children, to individuals who had been sold into prostitution by their parents, to people who had suffered severe abuse from their parents or guardian. I have heard stories that will stick with me forever and that is nightmare fuel that I don't want to share.

Because of my background education, I take note of the treatment and behavior of children and adolescents in the movies that I watch. There have been many great movies over the years that have depicted the suffering of children and it has always been difficult for me to deal with. There are more well known examples of films that focus on suffering but throw in more of a "sometimes we all suffer, even the children" message that demonstrate that kids aren't immune to great travesties (basically any film about The Holocaust). There are also well known films that show children "coming of age" through hardship (Annie 1982, Oliver! 1968) but end perfectly. There is a more current series of films that focuses entirely on a boy discovering a fantasy world that was robbed from him when his parents were murdered by a tyrant (Harry Potter series). But in this list I want to review some lesser known films that show examples of abuse. Even after all that I have seen and heard, the following list of films have affected me personally for one reason or another. Sometimes the children in these films endure and overcome their situation in the end. Sometimes these children do not survive or sadly remain in their misfortunes. To me, this can make the movie all the more powerful because of the incredible amount of pathos that endangering a child character can add. It can also make it a heart wrenching experience that is painful to watch. Here are some powerful films in which children suffer and the struggle is one of the main plot lines of the movie:

SPOILER WARNING AND VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISORY!!! I AM GOING TO GIVE AWAY THE PLOT TO THESE FILMS AND IT SHOULD GO WITHOUT SAYING THAT SOME OF THE PLOTS ARE DISTURBING!!! EITHER WATCH THE FILM IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS OR CHECK OUT THE FOLLOWING SUMMARIES IF YOU WOULD RATHER JUST HEAR WHAT HAPPENS SO YOU KNOW IF YOU WANT TO WATCH OR NOT!!!

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Sybil (TV Movie) 1976

I just recently saw this film after I had heard of the story in my abnormal development class almost 10 years ago. It is the story of a woman who developed multiple personalities to deal with a childhood in the care of an undiagnosed schizophrenic mother. The movie stars Sally Fields and is based on a true account of Shirley Ardell Mason and her treatment by psychologist Cornelia Wilbur. The acting in the film is overdramatic at times, but it definitely reminded me of some of the actual old videos of Shirley Mason and her sudden strange switches in personality when she was scared or anxious. Dr. Wilbur used hypnosis to actually introduce Mason to her alternate personalities and she was able to recognize her disassociative identity disorder and overcome it. It still hurts me to think that this person was mentally wounded so deeply by her parents that it basically shattered her into pieces in an effort to make sense of things.

Leon: The Professional 1994

I mention this film a lot because it is a heartwarming story of an assassin teaching a young orphan how to murder. It is the breakout role for Natalie Portman and it is just amazing. Leon is a "cleaner" that lives next door to an abusive and addictive family with a troubled girl named Mathilda. The father gets in trouble with the mob and some enforcers come by and slaughter most of the family while Mathilda is getting groceries. She returns during the massacre and realizes what is happening so continues next door and pleads for shelter. Leon takes her in and teachers her the trade and protects her from the men who want to finish her off. The movie was written and directed by Luc Besson and stars Jean Reno, Gary Oldman, and Natalie Portman. The suffering that this girl endures because of her parent's addictions hurts me, yet I have seen and enjoyed this film many times. I recommend watching when in the mood to be deeply affected by the trials of a little girl and the killer who protected her.

Kids 1995

This film came out when I was early in high school and bothered me greatly. It is a story by Harmony Korine, and one of his many attempts to capture the hopeless lives of unmotivated and unsupervised teens. These are young teens having unprotected sex, stealing money to do drugs, and attacking people in the park. I did not really go to these kinds of parties when I was that age (or ever really) and it has bothered me to think that adolescents would partake in this kind of behavior. It is hard for me to believe that these kids had the ability to mentally comprehend the consequences of their actions and some of the characters end up contracting HIV from each other. I would not recommend the film because it is a depressing day in the life that no youth should have.

Gummo 1997

I would not call this a good movie and I wouldn't really recommend it. It is another work by Harmony Korine and really details the depravity that can occur with unsupervised youths living in low socio-economic conditions. This movie is just depressing and motivated me to find something to motivate me into action. I got into both psychology and teaching, which has served me well for the past 20 years. It was this film that showed me how low the bar for quality of life could be, and I guess for that I am thankful. However, I still wouldn't recommend it.

Happiness 1998

This movie I didn't see right away but noticed it at the video store on many occasions. I final watched it when I was about 25 on the recommendation of a friend and one particular storyline greatly disturbed me. It is basically the story of 3 sisters that feel they should be happy and project a face of happiness, yet they are miserable and have horrible lives. One sister in particular is married to a psychiatrist who turns out to be a pedophile that rapes the friends of his young son. At one point rather early on in the movie, this man confesses to his son that he raped the boy's friends and that he would do it again. The son is so confused that he asks his father why he never raped him. It is so disturbing to me because I know the boys that were assaulted will be forever damaged and this boy who was not actually raped will be mentally scarred as well. The fact that there are people in the world that would harm children that way, recognize what they had done, and then know they didn't have the self control to stop themselves from doing it again is horrifying to me.

Lilya 4-Ever 2002

This film is deeply disturbing and I highly recommend never watching it. I will spoil it for you now so you never have to see it if you don't want. A 16-year-old girl named Lilya lives with her mother. The mom gets a boyfriend and the couple move to America and abandons Lilya with a neglectful aunt. The aunt movies into the old apartment of her sister and Lilya is forced to move out and become a prostitute to make money. A boy comes along and convinces her to move to Sweden to escape her life. When they arrive, this boy sells her to a pimp and she becomes a teenage sex slave. She almost escapes, but is then captured and beaten almost to death. She escapes again and this time commits suicide so she won't be recaptured. This movie is awful and changed my mind about giving every film a chance. I wish I could forget this film, but I can't. Perhaps it is just not for me, but this film presentation is definitely an experience that you won't soon forget.

The Kite Runner 2007

I read this book in my twenties and saw the film in my thirties and both affected me greatly. A well-to-do boy and his friend are in a kite battle competition and the friend is beaten and raped when he goes to retrieve a fallen kite. The well-to-do boy denies knowing what happened to his friend (he does know) and basically shames and abandons him. This action haunts the well-to-do boy for the rest of his life. How the boy who was raped is basically falling prey to blaming the victim is heartbreaking, and the lifetime of guilt of the other boy is pitiable. Neither boy was the actual attacker yet they both were the ones that suffered.

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There are many other examples of movies along these lines and could be found if you feel like suffering. I can't say that I would recommend them because they are very difficult to watch. Beyond just dealing with the content, it is rare to find child actors who can actually portray somebody who has truly suffered. The mix of bad acting and a depressing plot can make for a terrible movie going experience. The genre of movie involving suffering does exist, though, and it could be enjoyed (?) by some. Just not generally by me.

#harmony korine #gummo #kids #the kite runner #suffering #psychology #depressing movies #introvert #introverts #happiness #lilya 4 ever #leon the professional #movies

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[11:23 am]

One would think that after a relationship as long as yours, 4 years of dating and 2- almost 3 years of marriage, that there would only be little things left to learn about each other. Like waking up earlier than your husband, Kun, and discovering that he sleeps with one leg hanging off the bed or that he regularly goes through his texts and manually deletes conversations that happened more than two months ago. But there are also things in this time that should just be known due to how long you’ve been together. Like Kun knows that you you have to wet your toothbrush twice before brushing your teeth and Kun has made it clear to you that you do not make anything, tea or ramen or anything else, unless the water is boiling nearly over the pot.

Then are things like this, that he chooses to ignore even when you remind him almost weekly. You had sent him a simple text, asking him to simply reply with anything that he may have forgotten to add to the grocery list because you were on your way there. Upon walking into the store with your cart and list in hand, ready to tackle this and get back home, your phone rang. Of course, a call from Kun. 

A simple, day-to-day conversation, greetings, polite formalities and then, “I think I added everything I needed on the list.” This man.

You sighed, shaking off the mild annoyance of the call, something that could have so easily been handled with a ‘Can’t think of anything else’ text. 

Later, when you got home and had time to clean up around the house a little more and put the groceries away, your mind wandered back to Kun, who was going to be working all day. You of course know that he has the horrible habit of focusing too much on the work and neglecting himself. You send him a text asking him what he wants for lunch, knowing that even if he sees it in a few hours, he’ll at least still be eating lunch before he comes home later in the evening. 

You send him a text, as to not interrupt any work he has going on, asking him what he feels like eating so you can take it to him when he’s ready. 

Twenty minutes later your phone starts vibrating much more than it would from any text or notification, this would mean that your lovely husband is calling. It sounds like he’s panting a bit, they must be learning a new dance today, as he answers, “I really want some Thai food from that place we got a few weeks ago, whatever you get is fine with me.”

Then the loud and chaotic voices of his members all asking if you could bring them food and their own orders. “Tell them to text, and I mean text me their orders. I don’t want a million separate calls.”

“Of course, I love you. See you soon.” Kun replies. Within a minute you have every order texted to you, minus of course your husband’s.

Walking into the building, you make your way up to their dance studio with arms filled with bags of food. “I’m here!” You call out when you finally see them. 

They crowd around you, arms reaching for the food and thanking you. Kun wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple and thanks you quietly. He leads you away from the rest of the guys who are bickering over a plate of rice and some napkins. You both settle down on the floor, leaning against the wall while you share the dishes in front of you. You make conversation while you ask each other about your days. 

You chuckle before you once again bring up, “You know every time you called me today could have been answered with quick text.”

“But isn’t it just more to the point with a call?” He replies.

“Nothing you called me about needed to be explained, a simple text would have been fine. Like, if you had just right off the bat told me you wanted Thai, then I wouldn’t have had to hear them yelling their food orders right in my ear. It was so much easier with a text. Plus, you know I hate making calls.”

“Texting just seems so insincere. If I call you then I can hear you and see what mood you’re in and I can tell if sound tired or sick.”

“You say that every time, and we see each other every morning so you know if I’m tired or sick anyway. I understand when you go on tour or do promotions but we even had breakfast together this morning, you know how I am today. I don’t want you getting sick of me already.” You reply.

Kun looks almost offended before he responds, “I could never get sick of you, why would you say that? We’re stuck with each other forever. I call you because I love hearing your voice and I love you.”

You soften immediately, reaching your hand out to grab his own. He was just so romantic and lovely sometimes, he’s amazing. “I can’t even stay mad at you even when you know I hate talking on the phone. Almost 7 years and your sweet talking still works on me.” 

“You guys are disgusting.”

“Yeah, if my husband called me instead of texting me back, I’d get a divorce.”

“Seriously, how are you not sick of him?”

“Would you guys shut up? Didn’t you just get free food? Must you complain about everything?” You and Kun angrily respond.

“They remind me of my parents.”

Kun sighs, “Please don’t start that again.”

-

A/N: I got this from a prompt generator! I hope you enjoyed!

#kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #kpop au #kun scenarios #kun blurbs #kun imagines #kun fluff #kun timestamps #kun x reader #nct #wayv #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct blurbs #nct timestamps #nct x reader #wayv imagines #wayv fluff #wayv scenarios #wayv blurbs #wayv timestamps #wayv x reader

[itsany62]

SteveTony - Alternate Universe

Here are some Alternate Universe fics that I love. Don't forget to leave kudos and nice comments in every fic!

Food for the Heart, by LagLemon, 14 k >, Cooking, No Powers.

After being introduced to a gourmet food on a budget blog by Pepper (a gift for her elderly, cheapskate mother) Tony starts cooking again. The recipes are good, but the blog owner is even better. Still, Tony isn't so sure Captain America, the guy who runs the blog, can compete with Hot Bagboy, the gorgeous blond who works at the grocery store.

"Free to Good Home" by Captain_Panda, 7 k > words, Alternate Universe - Animals.

"Oliver and Company" AU.

There's a great big world outside the box.

But it's a dog-eat-dog world, and Tony's just one cat. Then a stray dog comes along, looking for a friend.

A Day In Principal Stark's Office, by nannersmelo, 10 k > words, Steve Single Parent, Director Tony.

Tony Stark has his hands full with not only Stark Industries, but also his beloved mother's life project: The Maria Stark Academy, and as he enters his office in order to deal with a ferocious mother whose son was apparently assaulted by one of his brightest students, he was sure this day would culminate in nothing but a heinous headache. Little did he know - he was in for one hell of a surprise.

I Am the Night by gottalovev, 6 k > words, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Vampire Tony Stark, Wizard Steve Rogers.

That's it. Tony is doomed. He rolls on his back, crosses his wings over his belly and closes his eyes. He'll await death here, misunderstood by the world to the bitter end.

C is for Calculus and Compromise, by heydoeydoey, 11 k>, Gifted AU, Post-Divorce, Angts with a Happy Ending.

Steve's just trying to give his prodigy daughter a normal childhood. Enter a meddling school administrator, Tony Stark, and too many lawyers.

tell you my love for you by jelliebean, 22 k > words, Alternate Universe - Normal High School, Based on Love Simon.

A guy at Shield High comes out on tumblr, anonymously. Tony thought he was the only gay guy on campus--not out, because of Howard--and sends him an email.

“Hey, Flying. Same here. I’ve got a secret too, and it’s like I’m hiding who I am, every day. From everyone. All the closest people to me. But I just can’t tell them. I’m gay, too. It feels like I’m putting on this mask, this shell of who I think they want me to be. Even though I don’t think my friends would judge me. I don’t know why. I just. I’ve got a secret. –Shell”

The guy seems great--amazing, even, and then Hammer has to step in and ruin it all.

Mergers & Acquisitions by Robin_tCJ, 33 k > words, Angst, sex as currency.

Steve Rogers is the CEO of the Rogers Corporation, which he built from the ground up. When he learns that Hydra International is making a bid for a hostile takeover of Stark Industries, he decides he has to do what he can to stop Hydra from overtaking the market and becoming an unstoppable, unethical conglomerate. Tony Stark asks for something Steve isn’t sure he should give, but he does it anyway – and it completely changes everything. But when Hydra keeps coming, Steve and Tony realize there’s more to this than they’d realized.

Meeting the Monsters by itsallAvengers, 23 k > words, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters.

Tony's at public school with kids his age for the first time in seventeen years, and he is determined that this year is gonna be his year. He's going to make friends. He's going to be popular. People will like him.

Unsurprisngly, none of that actually happens.

He does sort-of-maybe fall in love with a vampire in his class that everyone is terrified of, though. So... there's that.

(I Want You To See) The Darkest Side Of Me by ann2who, 45 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Post-World War II.

In Monte Carlo, Steve meets the wealthy widower Anthony Stark. It’s love at first sight—at least for Steve—and he can’t believe his luck when Tony asks him to live at Stark Mansion, his large estate in Malibu. Never in his life had Steve thought something like this was possible… never had he been this happy. However, soon Steve realizes that Tony is still deeply troubled by the death of his first wife and haunted by the many ghosts she left behind. The longer Steve lives in her shadow, the more he understands that… He can never be what Tony’s wife had once been for him. And Tony might never truly love him.

Gift With Purchase Remix by sabrecmc, 43 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, hooker Steve, Sugar Daddy.

Gift With Purchase Remix wherein Steve actually is a hooker. But for a Really Sympathetic Reason.

The Little Glass Screwdriver by ann2who, 19 k > words, Cinderella AU.

When Prince Steven is forced to find himself a bride, true love gets in the way. As the night of the grand ball unfolds, the prince meets a mysterious knight who might just change his entire life in a way he could have never imagined.

**Cinderella AU**

Covered in Lines by royal_chandler, 3 k > words, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Alternate Universe - College/University, Age Difference.

He can’t lose sight of pale, deft hands that gesture on transitive verbs, an ink-stained thumb edging underneath Tony’s ribcage with an affection that can only be called dangerous.

half-wild and glimmering by deathsweetqueen , 15 k > words, Alternate Universe - Western, Prostitution.

“Give me a drink, Tasha,” Tony sighs as he lands in front of the bar. “I’ve had one hell of a day.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Have you really?” she asks, loftily, sliding a tumbler of whiskey along the well-polished wood.

Tony lets his head hang, the sweat beading on the back of his neck. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve had to put myself through today,” he sighs, wearily.

“I would not know. You will not let me work the rooms,” Natasha retorts, her voice a little strained, busying her hands in a dirty glass.

“I don’t let you work the rooms ‘cause you’re liable to kill anyone who touches ya the wrong way and we can’t lose that much of our business,” Tony reminds her, wryly amused, sipping at his whiskey. He shakes his head at the burn. “We peddle flesh, darling, not death.”

peers, fears and holiday cheers by jacobby, 24 k > words, Parent Tony Stark.

“He’s only two years older than you,” Tony finally says when the silence becomes too much to bear.

“Dad, Teddy is turning twenty-seven next year.”

“I am not dating your husband—”

“I’m not implying you are. I just want you to be...aware that he’s practically the same age as my husband.”

AKA

Tony Stark's new boyfriend is only two years older than his adult sons. Telling them is one thing, introducing them is another. What Tony doesn't expect is that the past always has a way of catching up to him, of biting him in the ass when he least expects it. Well, at least they're all together for the Holidays. What more can he ask for?

A Higher Form of War by sabrecmc, 292 k > words, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Historical Romance.

Tony is a King with a surprising number of people out to kill him. Steve and the rest of the Avengers are fighting for Pierce's rebellion and end up with Tony as their prisoner. Oops.

you can call me babe for the weekend by complicationstoo, 10 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, actor Tony Stark.

Tony left his small town for Los Angeles after high school, leaving behind everything to pursue his dream. Ten years later, he comes back for the first time and finds that some things are impossible to let go of.

Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be by iam93percentstardust, 72 k > words, Alternate Universe - Theatre.

Famed director Phil Coulson brings Shakespeare’s beloved play, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, to Broadway. This production though comes with a twist: a brief but passionate love affair between the faerie king, Oberon, and his attendant, Puck. In the roles of the two star-crossed lovers, Coulson casts America’s darling Steve Rogers, fresh off his third Academy Award, and Broadway royalty, Tony Stark. Steve quickly finds himself falling for the quick-witted and sarcastic actor but Tony is dating the stage manager. Unwilling to come between the seemingly happy couple, Steve steps back but all isn’t right behind the scenes and Tony may need him when everything falls apart.

and so we rebuild by raeldaza, 26 k > words, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, Soulmates, Mutual Pining.

Sometimes, a voice whispers: you will never atone for your mistakes.

Tony believes that, believes it so strongly some days he drowns in it, but he still tries. Tries through Starfleet, tries through inventions, tries through missions. Then, one day, he meets his new Captain, and things change.

and teach this heart (how to beat with light), by starklystar, 40 k >, AU Hospital, Single parent Steve.

Eight years ago, at a funeral with a baby's cries ringing in his ears, Tony Stark decided to turn his life around. He's a genius, billionaire, philanthropist. What's so hard to adding 'doctor' to that list? And after that, it can't be that hard to add 'husband' and 'father' too, right? But the past has a way of haunting even the very best of us, and in any universe, Tony Stark and Steve Rogers have never had an easy love.

Featuring: drama, chaos, Peter's scheming, meddling friends, and doctors learning again that the heart can never be as simple as four chambers and four valves.

Catching Lightning in a Bottle by sabrecmc, 120 k > words, Alternate Universe - Sweet Home Alabama Fusion.

College student Tony meets janitor Steve at MIT and they fall blissfully in love, until Howard happens and things fall apart. One divorce paperwork snafu courtesy of the ever-helpful Jarvis, and ten years later, Tony has to get re-divorced from Steve.

This does not go as he imagines.

Or, the Sweet Home Alabama AU that no one--well, okay, a few of you--asked for.

The Night Shift by weethreequarter , 16 k > words, Alternate Universe - Hospital.

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Cake It Till You Make It by ChocolateCapCookie, 10 k > words, Kid Fic, Alternate Universe - Bakery.

Steve Rogers and Tony Stark have a lot in common. They're single parents, they own rival bakeries at the center of town... and they both hate each other's guts.

When a mix-up at Peter and Morgan's school has both fathers scrambling to prove they're the better baker, they do the mature, adult thing and compete in a bake-off. Between the mixing and the creaming, the baking and the icing, Steve and Tony find that hate is actually not that far from love.

Looking for Heaven by foxxcub, 31 k > words, Alternate Universe - Regency, Marriage of Convenience.

When young Lord Anthony Stark learns Steven Rogers has enlisted in the army, he thinks he's seen the last of his tiny, headstrong, haughty stable boy. But four years later, Lord Stark gets an unexpected visit from Steve, whose mother has fallen gravely ill and into financial ruin. Even more unexpected, Steve agrees to a shocking proposal: they will marry, giving Steve the necessary funds to save his mother, and Tony the much-needed reprieve from harassing would-be suitors. It is a business arrangement, nothing more. But as time goes on and circumstances arise, Tony begins to learn that keeping his heart away from his husband is easier said than done.

just a guy, standing in front of another guy by theappleppielifestyle, 12 k > words.

“It’s not real,” Tony says, still smiling, jaw twitching with effort. “The fame. It’s - I’m just a guy."

(Or, Notting Hill AU, with a twist.)

Mother of Exiles (A Titanic AU) by BladeoftheNebula, 21 k > words, Alternate Universe - Titanic Fusion.

“You’ll never guess what just happened!” Steve said, taking a deep breath to try and calm his breathing. “I met someone. A guy from first class.”

Dublin 1912: Steve Rogers is barely making ends meet, living in the tenement slums of Dublin. But a stroke of good luck gives him and his best friend the chance to change their fortune. Two tickets to America on board the RMS Titanic.

The Devil You Know by shetlandowl, 17 k > words, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Author/Novelist.

Best selling author Tony Stark revives the bodice ripper genre for a modern audience. From frisky gay cowboys to ravenous lesbian pirate queens, he consistently delivers riveting thrillers full of romance, drama, and the filthy, unapologetically kinky sex that has become his trademark specialty.

Tony has everything a man could dream of - horny, adoring fans, and boatloads of money. Or that's what he thought, until Detective Steve Rogers walks into his life and turns it all upside down.

Bears and Mountains and Lumberjacks Oh My! by justanotherrollingstony (adoctoraday), 24 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Lumberjack Steve Rogers.

It was supposed to be easy--go meet the reclusive artist and buy some art. And then came the broken down car. And the snowstorm. And the lumberjack with a face like a greek god. So yea, Tony is stuck in a cabin in the woods with a hot lumberjack till the storm clears. Could be worse.

Series: A Furious Vexation by Annie D (scaramouche), 18 k > words, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse.

A Steve/Tony post-apocalypse AU that exists pretty much just for the smut.

That Feline Beat by Tito11, 5 k > words, Alternate Universe - Animals.

Presenting Steve and Tony in the Aristocats!AU

Tony and his three kittens have been kidnapped from their fancy Upper East Side apartment while their owners are away and deposited on the mean streets of Harlem. Unsure of where they are or how to get back home, they'll have to rely on street cat Steve to guide them. Will they get home safely? Will Tony's fear of abandonment cause him to drive away the best tomcat he's ever known? Only time will tell.

do you fondue? by calciseptine, 16 k > words, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting.

Tony has done crazy things in the name of food, but falling in love with Steve Rogers really takes the cake.

a glimpse of heaven's love by parkrstark, 13 k> words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Terminal Illnesses.

The child begins to empty his pockets. He starts to count coins on the counter. Tony huffs a little impatiently as he realizes most of them are pennies.

The cashier actually humors the kid and counts along with him. They reach 3 dollars and 54 cents before he shakes his head sadly. "Sorry, kid. There's not enough here."

The kid sounds close to crying. "I need these paints for my Papa. It's Christmas Eve and these...he doesn't have any. The doctors said he doesn't have long. I want him to have these. In case he meets Jesus tonight, I want him to paint one more time. Please."

Tony takes a step forward, arms still full of toys he's buying just because. He can cover this child's gift for his dying father. Money. Money is what he's good for.

"I'll buy them."

--

Or, the Christmas Shoes AU no one but me asked for.

If you survive first impressions, you're good to go by itsallAvengers, 3 k > words, Parent Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - No Powers.

The first time Peter Parker-Stark sees Steve Rogers, he may or may not be standing in direct path of the man's motorcycle.

His daddy is really not going to be happy about that one.

A Rat-ional Conclusion by BladeoftheNebula, 6 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Veterinarians, Parent Tony Stark.

He had a strong flurry of patients throughout the morning and by the time it rolled around to noon, he was just about worn out.

He walked out into the reception, stretching until he felt a satisfying pop. “Are we done?”

Bucky checked the screen. “Just about. One more before lunch - a rat, singular.”

Steve breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully straight forward then. “Great, let me know when they-”

He was interrupted by the bell over the door and looked up to see a little girl cradling a small animal carrier, being shepherded through the door by easily one of the hottest men he’d ever seen in real life.

Oh wow.

Tidal Pull by sabrecmc, 97 k > words, Octopus Tony Stark, Alternate Universe - Shipwrecked.

After the American Civil War, Union soldier Steve Rogers takes a chance on an opportunity to sail with the Stark Trading Company down in the Caribbean. During a terrible storm, his ship is lost. To his surprise, he survives, and ends up stranded on an island that isn't quite as deserted as he first thinks.

Or, a reverse Little Mermaid tale where Steve has to fall for the fish-man.

Twelve Days by elysianprince, 22 k > words, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Ghosts.

In which Tony finds himself in a town that looks like it crawled out of a Hallmark Christmas movie, trying to sell an inn he didn't know he owned, all while dealing with Steve Rogers, the resident ghost who has returned to haunt the inn each December during the twelve days of Christmas for the past seventy years. Tony has only one logical solution that benefits them both: break the curse that binds him - but falling for a man almost a century old wasn't among his plans.

She kissed me by S_Horne, 1 k > words, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting.

“Your mom kissed me.”

Steve blinked awake and lifted his head from his pillow to look over at the silhouette in the doorway. “What?”

“Your mom,” Tony reiterated. “She kissed me.”

“Yeah,” Steve said simply, “she does that.”

#stevetony #stony #fic rec #tony stark #steve rogers #my recs

[lengthofropes]

POVs series

Part 4: Dean

words: 2,2k; rating: teen and up

summary:

Dean’s POV, since Cas is gone, then got back from the Empty.

Intentionally written as scattered thoughts.

Slowly, from grief, to the ending that they both deserve.

————————————-

1. What shapes me? Lines of my bones, enveloped within my skin, so tensed and fragile. The tremble of my hands in the morning, as I try but can’t find you next to me. My old clothes, my new clothes. Corners of my house.  My car’s seat upholstery. Soft recoil of my revolver. Food on my plate. Blood in my arteries. My “yes”s and my “no”s and cracks in my voice, as I say so.   - I’d drive. - Far away. From here, but where to? I’d watch the sun goes up and down, up and down, throwing it’s rays into side mirror. Lightening the road or leaving it in darkness, disturbed only by the headlights. I’d listen to the sound that air makes, sliced in half by the windshield. I’d listen to the purring of the engine under the hood, gratefully fed with gasoline. Too bad, it’s not clamorous enough. I’d pay dearly. With money, with time, that’s left. With anything. For something so loud, that could muffle my inaudible screams into nowhere. - I’d drive. But where to? - I don’t know where to. -

keep reading under the cut  -  or  -   read on AO3

2. I can’t drive alone. I keep seeing your gaze on my right. I see it, when I look into the rear view mirror too. Like you’re still here, around, waiting to say something. Or just sitting silently, pervading the air with the appeasement of your presence. Looking at me.   How long will it take me to forget how your eyes looked like? How long will it take me to forget what you saw in me? How can I? Now, that I believe in everything you’ve said. - How warm your touch was. - How good does it feel to be “finally free”, remind me? I don’t like the price. -

3. I’d like some certainty, you know? To come to terms. But I keep thinking “If only..” I keep asking “What if..?”  So many of those. Like there are other paths, and it all could’ve work out differently. They throw me back days ago, then months ago, then years. All my life, since the day I’ve met you. I keep searching for the answer, for the exact point, the moment, when I could’ve say something, do something. And you’d still be here.

“If”s are draining me. They are the lump in my throat, big and barbed. Sometimes it grows so big, it blocks the air from getting into my lungs. And in times like these I wonder, maybe I should just stop breathing at all? Still easier, than to accept your absence. - What if. What if. What if. - And you’d still be here. Here. -

4. Prayers never got me any good. Except of those, that were for you. But you can’t hear me now. You can’t hear at all. I know, it’s no use, I know it’s not possible, I know… I know. But I keep doing this, I keep begging. Not for a solace, not because of compassion. For fairness. Because. You took yourself away from me. It’s not fair, it’s so not fair. How could you do this to me? It’s not fair, can you hear me? It’s not fair! It’s not… - Come back to me. - Bring him back to me. - I don’t know if it is a prayer, I just repeat it over and over. Maybe I’m hoping these words will lose their meaning, if I’ll bounce them against every wall? Every wall of every empty room. I wander around them at night. You stood here, you smiled there, we had an argument, sitting in these chairs. And here, here you touched my shoulder. - Come back to me. Please, come back to me. -

5. How come, it’s been months already? I counted the seconds; they aimlessly wandered around, and then, having nothing else to do, gathered into minutes. It took more courage for minutes to gather in hours, but they did anyway. Hours slowly built up the days, and every seven days made it into a week. - I know, how time works. I’m just not sure, it works for me. - It’s not a straight line, I think. It’s more like a quagmire, and I’m drowning. I looked at myself in the mirror again this morning, as I do every day. I look closely, I check, I perceive. Hey, you’d be proud of me, you know? Little by little, I merge my usual “I” with your vision of me. Because this is the best way to remember you - to live by your last words. - I’d like to tell you, how YOU changed me. [ X ] -

6. Light is blinding me. Heart grew so big, it filled all of my chest, not sure, if there’s a place left to breathe in. Please, let it be real. Please. Please… Not another happy dream, that turns into nightmare, when I’m waking up. Please. - I see you. - Same room, same spot. You. Alive. Your hands are cold. You’re so weak, you can’t stand by yourself, you can’t even speak. But before you passed out, you looked at me. You looked at me, and I saw my own eyes reflect in yours. And that was enough to believe this is real. - I don’t remember… I… - Someone’s shaking my shoulder and saying my name over and over again. I’m sitting on the floor, holding you in my arms. My fingers hurt. I must’ve clutched them into your trench coat too tight. I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting like this. But yes… yes… Sam’s hand is on my shoulder and he’s right, his voice is very quiet, but he’s right. We should get you out of here. We should put you in bed. - I nod. I’m not sure I can speak. -

7. It’s so quiet. - You lay. You rest. You sleep. I’ll watch over you. It’s my turn now. The room is still. Only movement is your chest’s slow ups and downs, as you breathe. It’s just air, nothing more, right? How can the sound of air, filling the lungs, be the most soothing sound in the world? But it is. - It’s our air. We share it. - And I’m crying. I’m crying and I’m crying and I can’t stop. -

8. Sam came back from the store, I stand in the kitchen, taking out groceries and stuff out of the shopping bags. Among everything, I see he bought a super glue, I have no idea, what he needs this for. This is so stupid, this is so fucking stupid, it’s pathetic… but I can’t keep my eyes of it. “Use super glue to strongly bind 2 surfaces together”. I want to come into your room, I want to sit beside you, while you’re still sleeping. I want to smear that goddamn glue all over you, from head to toe, and put myself on top of you, as like I’m the other surface. “Assemble parts and hold together with pressure for 15 seconds or until set”, the directions say.   Or, there’s gotta be sewing kit here somewhere? I want to thread a needle and sew you to me. With such large and strong stitches, I darned Sam’s pants like that when I was a kid, I know these stitches are reliable, believe me. Or use a duck tape. Or shove us both into the bottle and threw it away into the ocean. - It’s been two days and nine hours, since you’re back. Someday, I’ll be able to leave your room, leave you out of my sight, and don’t feel growing panic in my chest. - Someday, I’ll believe you’re back for good. For good. For ever. Not today. -

9. Your bare legs are sticking out of your robe. You are strong enough to walk around the bunker, and, of course, the first thing you did is get to the kitchen. Oh, you woke up hungry and just wanted to make yourself a sandwich, I see… You are not cold, but you are sitting on a chair, constantly adjusting this stupid robe, wrapping yourself in it tighter. You weirdo. You know who you remind me of? A cold little sparrow on a twig, who keeps on ruffling the feathers to keep warm. Those legs are sticking out… - I place a huge bowl of hot chicken soup in front of you. “Eat!” I say. “Or I’m gonna start feeding you with a spoon, I swear!” You mutter something dissatisfied about peanut butter and jelly under your nose, but I won’t even listen. "Eat!” I say. Seriously, you didn’t want to wake me up?? So nice of you! Next time consider my near heart attack, maybe? You look sorry and giving me those puppy eyes, and I swear I want to smile so bad. Not just smile, really. To laugh with my full chest, easy and warm. - You breathe. You sleep. Now you eat. Should I ask questions? You’re here. You’re okay. You’re getting better. - You’re getting better. -

10. Your hair smell of my shampoo. Your hair. Smell of my shampoo. Your clothes are my old ones, but they fit you so good. Soon, when you’re well enough, we’re gonna drive some place nice and buy you your own. It’s selfish, probably, but I want it to happen as late, as possible; not your recovery, of course, your new clothes, I mean. - You look mine in my clothes. - Your hair smell of my shampoo. I’ve realised it just now, when you fell asleep on my shoulder. I forgive you, we’ve seen this movie two times already, it’s okay. And I can pretend I’m still watching it, while shamelessly wander my eyes over you, curled in a ball, covered with soft plaid. - I dare to kiss the top of your head, I dare to cover your knuckles with my palm, carefully, not to wake you up. - You are so warm. -

11. Do I deserve you? - Do I? Your presence in my life. You. All of you. So pure, so perfect. So selfless. I’d say you are full of light, but it’s not quite so. Because you are the light. God, I’m so scared. It starts in my fingertips, they ache, like being pinned with needles. Needles get into my blood flow and make my whole body shiver. - It took me way too long to understand, but I see now… it’s not about you, it’s about me. I know, I know! I remember everything you’ve said. I remember how I tried to believe it, to understand, to accept, to let it all inside me and keep it there. Your simple truth, that I actually mean something. Mean so much. To you. Fucking everyday morning exercises. Look and repeat, look and repeat to self all over again, “you are loved, you are loved, you are loved…” until not scared of the meaning. But… is this enough? What you feel about me? What I feel about you? To deserve you? Do I deserve you, do I? Do I? I… - But you’re kissing me back. - And you shiver too. Are those my needles got into your veins or are those yours? Jesus, do you have the same idiotic thoughts in your head?? God, we are both so clumsy, so stupid, so fucking stupid! We were so dumb, we are both so dumb! We are… We… - WE. - And I’m kissing you. I’m kissing you. I deserve it. I deserve you. I do. -

12. To feel the pulse on your neck with my lips. To smile, when your stubble tickles my ribs. To hear your shuddered inhales right next to my temple. To hold you, closer than ever, and not be afraid to. - It’s something about the heat of your skin, that makes me feel belonged. Safe. -

13. - You told me, you want to grow old with me. -

14. It’s quite hot, but windy today. You rolled the window down, and fresh air immediately filled up the car. We’re driving back home from the grocery store. You’re texting to someone and smiling. Tell them “Hi” from me. We’re listening to the new mixtape you’ve made. It’s awful, by the way. 90’s? Seriously?? Oh, don’t hurt yourself rolling your eyes back. Ok…Okay! I’m shutting up! You’re taking two milkshakes out of the bag, one for you, one for me. We argue on who’s gonna cook today. We drive past the small tidy houses with green yards and gardens, talking over each one of those. Someday, soon, yeah, most likely. That one with blue shutters? Yeah, I like it too. - In between of shifting the gears, I hold your hand. I love you. - Days are like this. -

15. Hello, my name is Dean Winchester. White male, early forties’. I don’t try to recognize myself in a mirror anymore. I don’t ask questions. - I’m just here. - Yeah, there’s grey in my hair, quite a bit, but still. These are my arms, my shoulders, hands. I used to know my hands as lethal, strong and fast, and I’ve always thought, that’s enough for male hands. I mean… they are, yes. But now I’d add, they are full of care, also. Even gentle. They are good for so many things, I didn’t even realize they are so good. [ X ] - This is my face. Here are my freckles and there are my wrinkles. - This is my skin; I live in it.

- It finally fits me. -

__________________________________

tag list:

@alivedean @achillestiel @acklesology @agentcastiels @burnhamandtilly @bluefirecas @bebecas @becauseofthebowties @ben-edlund @bestiarum @bipridedean @brokenyouth @casthyelle @captain-flint @celestialdean @celestialcastiel @chaoticdean @castheology @cosmiccas @deanwinchesteradjacent @donestiel @debriefingspn @dstiel @evermorecastiel @emptymeg @endverse @fromperdition @forthiswholeworld @galaxycastiel @heartattackles @honeystiel @highvoltagejackles @inacatastrophicmind @itsinjustbeing @icegifs @iheartcas @itsinjustbeing @joharvele @jacobglaser @jackthomson90-blog @lucymorans @mad-as-a-box-of-frogs @magnoliadean @maxguevra @misha-collins @mckkachins @marvells @mochadean @nesnej @nuntox @presidentbidean @rocksaltseraph @sarahblakes @starlightcastiel @starrynightdeancas @sobsicles @shelikestv @sinnabonka @sourpatchdean @spnsmile @smiledean @seraphcastiel @soleeryx @subbydean @tearsofgrace @teamfoundfamily @theedorksinlove @thatisahotsoup @ultravioletcas @valleydean @waywardism @winchester-reload @winchestergifs @xofemeraldstars @yelenasbelovaas @you-cant-spell-subtext-without @saltyghostsworld  @plantdadcas @sammy-501 @dtadeancas  @subtledean @kaz2y5baby @angelic-bee-enthusiast  @gardenforcas @bimiserables @gabrielle-main  @highkey-dysphoric @lila-tom @teddybluesclues  

#sorry guys! original post got messed with the links and I can't fix them....so just decided to make another oner of archive purposes(( #don't mind me)) #destiel fanfic #spncreatorsdaily #destiel fanfiction #destiel fix it #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #destiel poetry #anz writes stuff and things #fic tag

[typical-simplelove]

hey there! if possible, i'd love to request a blurb! would you be able to do prompt list 2, #27 (“Take me back to the good old days”) under angst with kirby dach/any player you feel comfortable and motivated to write it for? looking forward to reading all your blurbs! <3 (love @matsbarzal)

I hate you for this because I feel like I always write Kirby with angst. <3

27. Take me back to the good old days.

Sometimes, when days got really hard, you’d spend the evening after work on your couch watching comedies that could guarantee to make you laugh and eat cookies. Sometimes, when the sadness really got to you, you’d listen to Taylor Swift and bake a chocolate cake for one. Sometimes, when you missed him more than anything despite breaking up eight months ago, you’ll cuddle on your couch with a blanket, watch a romantic comedy, and eat ice cream.On the days where you didn’t miss him and everything felt great, you’d try to watch a hockey game, but only one of your favorite teams, not his team. You’d never be ready for that.

Some days, you don't feel the need to drown your sorrows in food and entertainment to make your body numb. Instead, on those days, the littlest reminders made you want to cry in the bathroom at work or scream into a pillow. On those days, it was the little things that reminded you of what you missed because of him.

Someone brought in maple doughnuts from a local donut shop. You thought nothing of it when your coworker told you to go to the breakroom to get one to eat. You thought nothing of it when you smelled the maple from feet away. You had no thoughts of him until you sank your teeth into the maple doughnut. Kirby was captain of this previous year’s World Junior’s Championship. Kirby was the captain of Team Canada. Kirby played on Team Canada who wore the maple leaf. The maple leaf which happens to come from the same plant that maple syrup came from. You swallowed that bite and walked back to your desk. When no one was in sight, you tossed the doughnut in the trash and put your napkin on top so no one would see. You immediately ran to the bathroom to wash your hands and wash the smell of maple off yourself. A doughnut was enough to remind you of Kirby.

You were at the grocery store. A random grocery store that has little to no significance to you and Kirby. Walking down the aisle, you stop in front of the paper towel section and look for your favorite brand that happened to be on sale. Your eyes were scanning the row when your eyes settled on a low-quality, store-brand version of the paper towels. The same brand that Kirby bought the one time he went grocery shopping for you. The same brand that Kirby mistakenly bought and ended up ripping before it left the package and couldn’t soak up enough spills. You and Kirby laughed about that toilet paper brand for weeks and weeks until you managed to use it all. You never let Kirby go grocery shopping for you, and yet, grocery shopping had a memory of Kirby for you.

You were looking out the window from your bedroom and watched as the snow fell onto the cars parked on the street. You watched as a brave soul stepped out of your apartment building and tried to unlock their door. The snow was so packed that it was barely possible to see the headlights through the snow. This person walked to the driver’s side and reached for the handle. When they were met with four inches of snow, they pulled their hand back in shock. They shook their head, locked the door, and went back inside. It must not have been that important, then. You immediately begin to tear up remember that this happened to you and Kirby after the first night he spent with you. He only packed enough for one night, so he had to go back home. When he left your apartment, he ended up coming up and said that his car was way too packed in snow. Now, a commonality in the winter held enough power to hurt you.

You needed someone to take you back to the good old days. You needed someone to take you back to the days before Kirby was in your life. You needed to go back to the good days before you loved Kirby and were happier. You needed to go to a time when you weren’t stepping on eggshells wondering if something was going to remind you of Kirby and send you down a spiral. You needed to feel better, but how was that possible when everything in your home reminded you of Kirby?

#kirby dach #kirby dach imagine #kirby dach fic #kirby dach x reader #hockey blurb #nhl blurbs #claudia writes #labor day blurbs 21 #op: 2021

[restlessfandoming]

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 1) (chilumi fic)

“Lumine is the student council president and Childe is the school’s number one troublemaker. They cross paths more than they’d like. Especially when Childe finds out Lumine’s big secret. Highschool AU à la Kaichou wa Maid-sama.”

if anyone has seen maid-sama, Lumine and Childe sometimes reminded me of Misaki and Usui so i had to write it hehe :3 if you haven’t seen it, i highly suggest it, its a very cute anime and if you like chilumi, you’ll definitely like the main couple in it! its on netflix! :D

[Fic Masterlist] // [AO3 Link]

* * *

“the president and the troublemaker” (part 1)

“Childe, for the last time, earrings are against the school uniform code,” Lumine said to him, eyes narrowing at the red jewelry dangling from his ear. He may have towered over her, but she was the student council president—she had to enforce the rules no matter what. 

Childe tilted his head, fingers grazing over his earring. “A tiny thing like this? Surely you can let me off the hook, Madame President?” 

“No exceptions. Remove it now or I will forcibly confiscate it from you.” 

He scoffed, turning away. “I’d like to see you try.”

Lumine clenched her jaw, watching his back retreat down the hallway. Oh, she could easily take it from him. But this wasn’t the place to use brute force. As much as he boiled her blood, she wouldn’t dare reveal her secret here. 

Childe, the school’s number one troublemaker: always getting into fights, never listening to authorities, doing whatever he pleased. And the worst part? He always got away with it. 

The girls of the school fawned over his good looks, the boys envied his strength, and the elders fell victim to his charisma. 

Not Lumine though. She refused to be influenced by him. Maybe that’s why he always seemed so annoyed by her. Good. 

She ripped out a page of her student council notebook, scribbling out Childe’s name and dress code violation, pocketing it to turn in later. 

She practically stomped her way into the student council room, earning a glance from the Vice President—her twin brother Aether. 

“Childe?” he asked, going back to typing on his laptop. 

Lumine slumped in her chair. “Yes,” she nearly growled. “How did you know?”

“Because he always puts you in the worst of moods,” her brother answered. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to put him in his place.”

“And get kicked out of school for murder? No thank you; I’m not ruining an absolutely clean record for the likes of someone like Childe.” She flipped through her notebook, seeing all her citations on said troublemaker. “Soon enough, that boy is going to get expelled, mark my words.”

Suddenly, the door burst open, and the student council reporter—a student named Bennett—dashed in, holding the side of his face.

“Madame President!” he announced. “There’s a fight breaking out in the hallway!”

Both Aether and Lumine stood. “What happened to your face, Bennett?” Aether asked. 

The reporter let out a sheepish laugh. “I, uh, tried to break up the fight but ended up getting punched in the face.”

“Okay, c’mon, let’s get you to the nurse,” Aether said, walking Bennett out the door. 

Lumine quickly walked out after them, hearing the commotion down the hallway. As she turned the corner, there was a crowd of students circled around the tussle. 

“Out of the way!” Lumine shouted. 

At the sound of her voice, many students scattered back to their classrooms, leaving only the perpetrators still fighting: a short boy with cropped blue hair and—Childe.

“Hey!” she yelled. “Break. It. Up! Or it’s suspension for the both of you!” 

The short boy gave Childe a harsh shove, adjusting his odd cap with tassels on the sides. “You don’t have to fight me every time you see me, you brute,” the boy hissed. 

Childe laughed. “C’mon, Scaramouche, don’t be like that,” the ginger said. “We were just having some fun, Madame President; no need to make a big fuss out of it.” 

Lumine glared at him. “Why are you always at the center of trouble?” 

Childe shrugged. “Life’s too boring.” 

Taking out her notebook, she scoffed. “Well, it’s about to get a whole lot more boring for you. Detention. After school. Both of you.” 

“It was just some play fighting between friends, Pres,” Childe insisted. “Don’t be so stuck-up.” 

“Not play fighting when one of my council members gets hit in the face,” she retorted angrily. 

“Can I at least be let off the hook?” Scaramouche interjected. “He was the one who attacked me.” 

The blonde sighed. “Fine. This was your first offense anyways.” 

“Today’s his first day after all,” Childe supplied. 

“It’s his first day and you welcomed him by attacking him?” Lumine asked, crossing her arms. 

He smiled. “What can I say? We know each other.” 

I want to punch that smile off his face. “Scaramouche, go back to class. Childe, you’re coming with me to in-school suspension.” 

Scaramouche muttered something under his breath and walked away, while Childe cheerfully waved goodbye to him. 

Lumine started walking down the other way, towards the ISS room, Childe’s footsteps falling in behind her. Most of the way was done in silence. Until—

“Say, Pres, why are you so stuck-up?” Childe asked. 

Lumine grit her teeth. “Have you ever thought maybe I’m not stuck-up, and maybe you’re just a troublemaker?” 

“Hey, at least I make your life a little more interesting, don’t I?”

“Not interesting. So much more unbearable.” 

“Maybe you should loosen up. Being like this won’t make you many friends.” 

“And fighting people will?” 

“Fighting is fun. You’re telling me you’ve never watched a fight and found it entertaining?”

Lumine stopped in her tracks. “Of course not. You only do it when something’s seriously on the line. Not for fun.” 

“Uh-uhm, excuse me,” a timid voice said. 

Lumine turned to find a girl, she looked young, probably a freshman, clutching a card. “Can I help you?” the president asked.

“A-actually,” the girl responded, “can I t-talk to Ch-Childe? A-Alone?” 

The blonde glanced at Childe, who shrugged back at her. Letting out a sigh, she said, “Yes, go ahead.” She was doing this for the girl. Not Childe. 

She walked ahead and turned the corner until she was out of sight and unable to hear. After a minute or so, the freshman girl ran past her, hysterically crying. Brows furrowed, she went back to Childe. 

“So, where are we going?” he asked nonchalantly. 

Asshole. “What the hell did you do to her?” Lumine asked. “Do I really need to write you up again?”  

“What? All I did was reject her confession.”

A glare at him. “Be nicer. Don’t make girls cry.” She continued walking. 

“Or maybe she should just be stronger.” 

“Don’t you dare insult a girl’s strength in front of me.” 

“I’m not insulting the strength of a woman. I’m just saying people in general could do better if only they were stronger.” His strides quickened, and soon he was in front of her. He flicked the earring dangling from his ear. “For instance, if you had the strength, you could easily rip this from my ear, and you could stop stacking up those useless dress code citations for me.” 

Lumine had to clench her teeth to stop herself from murdering him on the spot. “I’m your student council president. I don’t solve things through violence. Which is why you and I are different.” Lie, her gut hissed. 

She stopped, throwing open the door to her left, gesturing into the room. “You’ll spend the rest of the school day here.” She turned in, looking at the teacher. “Mr. Diluc, you have a student here for in-school suspension for the rest of the day.” 

Mr. Diluc glanced up from his book, expressionless. “Childe. Back so soon?” 

Childe sauntered in, taking a seat. “You know our Pres. Always working on cleaning up the school from scum like me.” 

“Good for her,” Diluc said. “Thank you, Lumine.”

Lumine nodded and closed the door behind her. Finally.

At least Childe wouldn’t be causing anymore trouble today. 

* * *

Lumine shivered as the chilling locker room hit her bare skin. Shedding her hoodie, she donned a simple black sports tank top and shorts. 

“Are they ever going to get heaters for these locker rooms?” she muttered. 

“It’s an underground fighting ring,” Aether said, “You think they can afford state-of-the-art locker rooms?” He tossed her a roll of hand wraps. 

She caught it, unraveling it, and started to wrap them around her knuckles. “You’re right. As long as they pay me, I shouldn’t be complaining.” 

Aether nodded, taking her gloves out from her gym bag. “Are you ever going to tell Mom how you get all this cash?”

“Never. She’d probably die of a heart attack.” 

“And your injuries?” 

“I try not to get any,” she said with a smirk. “If I do, then, hey, the restaurant business can be dangerous...and I can be clumsy.” 

And that was her big secret. 

In the night, Lumine was a top tier fighter in Teyvat’s underground fighting ring. She was known as “The Outlander.” 

After their father had walked out on them years ago, Lumine, Aether, and their mother were left with a huge amount of his debt to pay off. Their mother took on two jobs to support them, leaving her exhausted, sickly, and barely home. Lumine and Aether couldn’t find decent paying jobs at their age, so Lumine took matters into her own hands. 

Through her tenacity, she trained hard and started showing up to the underground fights, learning her way through the system, and eventually began fighting herself. Sure, it was illegal due to the violence and betting system, but it made good money—fast. Enough money to support their family, pay off the debt, and save some aside for her and Aether’s future.

Aether of course still worked as a cashier at a local grocery store (next to the restaurant Lumine claimed she worked at); Lumine would never let her dear brother participate in her line of work. He was only allowed to come along to cheer her on.   

She was also good at it. After some training, her instructors all praised her natural fighting instincts. In a matter of months, she had become one of the top fighters in her area. 

It was out of necessity. They needed the money. 

Of course, no one knew who she really was. She always fought with a mask on—she couldn’t let her identity be compromised. A high school student beating up all these grown adults? A chance she could be recognized and reported to authorities? No. Way. Plus, people liked the mysterious Outlander figure. Might as well milk it. 

The cheers above her swelled, and Lumine did her final stretches and prepped to go out on stage. 

“You ready to fight tonight?” Aether asked. 

Lumine slipped her mask on. “Always.” 

She made her way up the staircase, and the buzzing crowd grew louder and louder, until she entered the arena, and the cheers became deafening. 

The arena was probably around the size of her school gym, maybe smaller, but packed to the brim with cheering fans and a boxing cage in the middle. 

She made her way up to the cage, chants of “Outlander” swirling around her, and took her walk around the area, getting a feel for the night. Eventually, her mind blurred out the crowd, focusing on becoming in tune with her body. 

Tonight, her opponent was another member of the Hilichurl gang: a gang notorious for entering lots of members into these types of fights, even if they weren’t good, as a way to try and earn any kind of money for their gang. It was an easy win. Lumine barely got hit. (The Hilichurl on the other hand ended the night sobbing his heart out on stage. Lumine felt kind of bad. Kind of.)

Soon enough, she and Aether were on their way home with a fresh wad of cash in their bag, practically skipping their way past the dim street lights. As they made their way towards their bus home, Lumine rifled through her bag, realizing she had left one of her textbooks in the locker room from when she had been studying before the fight. 

She cursed. Now she had to go all the way back to the arena. “Aether, you need to get home—the next bus won’t be here for another hour.” 

“Lumine, I am not leaving you alone in this sketchy part of town.” 

“And you have to be there when Mom gets back, otherwise she’ll get suspicious.” Lumine was already turning around. “Tell her I had to stay behind at the restaurant to help clean up.” 

Her brother pursed his lips. 

“Aether. I’ll be fine. Did you seriously forget what I did to get that stack of cash?” she reassured. 

He sighed. “Fine, fine. You’re right.” He hugged his sister. “Still. Be careful, please.” 

She held up her fist which was still wrapped in the fighter’s tape. “Of course. See you back home.” 

With that, the twins went separate ways. 

Now maskless, Lumine went the back ways to the arena, entering through a side door, avoiding the still rowdy crowd of spectators gathered for the late night fights. She successfully grabbed her textbook, and walked back out the side door. Straight into somebody. 

Shit. “Excuse me,” she mumbled, keeping her head down, hoping they wouldn’t ask why some little high school girl was sneaking around the underground fighting arena. 

But then the person spoke. 

“Wow,” a familiar voice said. 

Lumine looked up, wide eyed. Shitshitshitshit—

“This is a surprise,” Childe said, “Madame President.”

* * *

[part 2]

#genshin impact #genshin childe #genshin lumine #genshin tartaglia #childe #lumine #tartaglia #childe x lumine #lumine x childe #chilumi #lumichilde #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #me

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

scopaesthesia 👁️ chapter 5

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4

Warnings: nonconsensual sex, death, murder, violence, stalking, paranoia, blood, gore, bloodplay, knifeplay, suicidal thoughts.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes with a likelihood off dark!Steve Rogers as well and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find yourself trapped.

Note: So I managed to finish this chapter before work really starts to kick my ass. Just letting y’all know, there will be a part 6 but I have an 11 hour day tomorrow and work straight through to wednesday so I’ll probably be exhausted.

That being said, I appreciate y’all reading and your reactions have been the highlight of writing!

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You coughed into the blackness. Your awakening was gradual as you waded through the void and slowly broke the surface of consciousness. Your throat was dry and sore and your head swelled with each breath. You reached to touch the tender flesh along your neck, bruised by the rope which had so violently been strung around it. You only recalled the dread of your suffocation before the world turned dark.

As you moved, bright lights flicked on suddenly and you groaned as your eyes watered. You trembled as you pushed yourself up on the bed. The room was small, just big enough for the large bed and the metal chest secured with a heavy padlock. There was a heavy door with a slot and no handle and another smaller door to your left.

You shimmied to the side of the bed and turned your legs over the edge. You slowly turned as the wall behind the bed stood in contrast to the rest of the sterile white room. Every inch around the low frame, from floor to ceiling, was pasted in images and documents. A startling map of your existence.

Pictures of you in the grocery store, at work, on the train or even in your apartment, spanning years back. There were even a few of your dorm room, long forgotten to the haze of your college years. A transcript of your credits and copies of your resume and even pages of the journal you thought only known to you. The one you’d thought you lost in your move from student to adult. And the drawings; just as you remembered, sickening and horrifying.

You stood, unsteadily, and neared the demented collage. There were other pictures; of women who looked like you; crying, screaming, bleeding. You grabbed one and tore it off the wall. You crumpled it up, unable to look at the woman’s dead eyes.

You flinched as the heavy door jolted suddenly and you turned as it opened. You dropped the picture and pressed yourself to the wall as Bucky entered and the door closed behind him. His blue eyes were predatory and intent on you. His right hand twitched as he cleared his throat.

“Sit,” he said softly.

You gaped at him and shook your head. You quaked as you edged over to the corner as if you could hide there.

“Baby girl…” he warned, “Please, don’t make this difficult. I don’t want to hurt you.”

You grazed your neck with your fingertips and scoffed. The sharp breath scratched your throat and made you wince.

“You made me do that,” he said, “Please, sit.”

You blinked at him. His left hand balled into a fist and he shifted on his feet. Your heart jumped and your lip quivered. Slowly, you pushed yourself away from the wall and neared the bed. You sat sideways against the wall with one leg hanging to the floor. You folded your hands and braced for the unraveling of his wrath.

“Good girl,” he preened. “I just want to talk. That’s all I came for.”

“You’re a murderer,” you rasped, “So just kill me already.”

He smiled and chuckled. He took a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. He neared the end of the bed and gripped his hips.

“If that was what I wanted, I wouldn’t have waited so long.” He said. “All you have to do is listen, baby girl. And if you can do that, I will bring you a treat.”

“I don’t want anything from you,” you muttered, “You’re disgusting. You’re…” you shook your head as you couldn’t put into words how he made your stomach twist and churn.

He sniffed and took a deep breath.

“Where were you seven years ago? What were you doing?”

“Looks like you already know,” you paused and tried to clear your sore throat. You coughed and pressed your hands to your neck.

“You were just a student, yes?” He shifted on his feet as he spoke, “Innocent, unaware. Running across campus to get to your next class. So clueless you didn’t even notice the man you collided with. Didn’t notice me with that look in my eyes; distant, determined.”

You frowned, confused. You shrugged. You didn’t remember.

“And what did you think when you heard of what happened to the dean?”

Your heart dropped. You remembered that. It was in the headlines for weeks; the mysterious attack on the dean of criminology. It was revealed that he was a former intelligence officer but it could not be linked substantially to the event. He resigned shortly after and as any new cycle, the story washed itself out.

“You--?”

He sighed and his eyes darkened. “What I was… then. What they made me.”

“I don’t--”

“Shhhh,” he hushed you and neared the bed until his legs touched the mattress. “I was their weapon; a machine. My job was death but that day, their weapon failed. Their weapon was distracted and for that the weapon was reforged, honed, beaten down until it was once more sharp enough to use.”

You shook your head in confused, Your fingers curled until your nails cut into your palms.

“Even when they wiped my mind, you remained. The girl who smiled at me without thought; who apologized and asked if I was okay… Who gave me directions to the right building… never knowing… because she thought I was good.”

“I don’t remember. I don’t know you…”

He held up a finger and tapped his lips. You went silent and watched him.

“When I was free, when I found Bucky again, I found you.” He breathed. “And you were the same. Flitting around without a care. And you ran into me again and you apologized, as you had before, and not a second thought to the man who watched you run for the train. To the man who held the door for you the next day or returned to you the card you dropped on the sidewalk. Always just a smile.”

You touched your cheeks. You remembered the card, some forgotten coffee rewards counter you never used. It came clearer then. His gloves hand holding the cardstock, his blue eyes. It was just another random interaction in the chaotic city. But it wasn’t.

“No…” you shook your head, “But why--”

“You see, the people who corrupted me, their control has nothing to do with what I am. It is a part of me. The soldier, Bucky… one does not exist without the other. Bucky fell in love with you, Bucky wanted you, but the soldier… he didn’t how to help Bucky. How to get you. So he found the girls and he tried to figure it out.”

“Stop. Please. I can’t--”

“But even the soldier couldn’t hurt you,” he put one knee on the bed. “Bucky won’t let him.”

As he placed his other knee on the mattress, you turned to get off the bed. He caught your ankle before you could and pulled you down the bed. He climbed over you and straddled you beneath him. You struck out at him and he stopped your hands, gripping your wrists tightly.

“I told you, I won’t hurt you.” He said softly.

“You are hurting me,” you tried to pull away from him and wiggled beneath him.

“I am trying to help you,” he pushed your hands beside your head, pinning them to the bed. “I only want to love you.” He bent over you and his hot breath tickled your lips. “To feel you.”

“Please, you can’t-- I never-- I’m scared, Bucky. Please don’t hurt me.” You begged. “Please…”

His eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed. He glared at you and pressed his forehead to yours. He let go of your arms and his hands gripped your head instead.

“Listen. I’m not going to hurt you,” he growled. “But I will if you make me.”

You stared at him, paralysed beneath him. He squeezed your head until it pulsed then pushed himself up suddenly. He climbed off of you, jostling the bed, and scanned the wall of photos. He lowered his chin and nodded.

“Take your clothes off.” He said.

You stayed as you were, stunned and scared. He looked at you slowly and his lips curled.

“Do it or I will.” He warned.

You sat up. You were numb as you skirted to the edge of the bed and pulled your tee over your head. He snatched it from you and you stood to unbutton your jeans. You rolled them down and he took them in turn. You struggled to unhook your bra as you trembled and he spun you sharply. He snapped the clasp and the fabric fell away from your chest. He gathered it up and tore your panties just as easily. He even bent to take your socks as they sat balled on the floor.

You tried to cover yourself as you turned back to him. He marched to the door and stopped. He looked back at you and gritted his teeth.

“Good girl,” he smirked and then turned around and looked above the door. 

A small lens sat above the frame and the door unlocked. He opened it with his foot and sent you one last glance before he pulled it shut. You slumped onto the bed and folded your legs against your chest. There was only the sheet stretched across the mattress and a single pillow. You shivered and hung your head.

You felt the eyes of all the dead women behind you. Felt the weight of their souls. And yet you were horribly alone.

👁️

Shortly after he left you, a tray was slid through the slot in the door. You ignored it at first but your stomach began to ache as the hours dripped by. You took the tray and rested it on the foot of the bed as you sat carefully. You took a long gulp from the bottle of water and the muscles of your neck reminded you of your assault.

The sandwich was cut neatly in half; ham and cheese with mustard. You chewed it without tasting and emptied the cup of applesauce. That was all you could manage and you set the tray in the corner.

The other door, the smaller one, opened up to a small booth. A toilet and sink only. You refused to be thankful for anything but were relieved to have at least that.

You hugged the pillow for much of the time. Your only shield against the cold and your nudity. You dozed off for a little, a shallow, distraught slumber.

You were awoken by the door. You sat up dizzily and stared at the figure as it cleared in your vision. The lights were dimmer as Bucky moved around. He went to the metal chest and opened the lock. You pulled the pillow to you as he closed the lid and plopped a roll atop it.

He turned to you and you cowered as he knelt on the bed. Wordlessly, he pulled on your arm until it bent painfully away from the pillow. You fought with him as he dragged it to the top corner.

“What are you doing?” You whined. “Please, don’t--”

You choked on your voice as he pulled up a leather cuff over the mattress. He wrapped it around your wrist despite your struggles and buckles it.

“Bucky, Bucky, please--”

He hushed you and grabbed your other arm. You kicked you as he forced you onto your back and shook the whole bed as he secured your other wrist. You hit his shoulder with your heel before he grabbed your left ankle and tied in down before he did the same to the right. You were stuck, stretched across the bed, writhing and whimpering as he backed away.

“What--”

“Baby girl,” he tapped his fingers atop the metal chest. “I don’t want to gag you… You have such a pretty mouth.”

You grunted and tugged on your binds. It was pointless. Even if you got loose, there was no way out of this room, no escape from this monster. Your eyes drifted to the wall above you and you closed them against the sight of the tortured women. Would he do the same to you?

You heard a clink and your eyes snapped open. You looked over at the knives that lined the fabric roll and you sobbed. You let out a pathetic squeal that slowly built to a scream.

“Please, please, please!” You shouted. “Don’t do this!”

“Baby girl,” he hummed as he dragged his fingers over the blades. “I told you, you’re safe with me.”

He turned and his eyes roved over your body. He let out a thick breath and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. He pulled it over his head and let it heap on the floor. His gaze clung to you as he undid his belt and pushed his pants down. He forced his boots off as he stepped out of his jeans and his socks went with them. He undressed methodically, never looking away from you.

You grunted as you tried desperately to free yourself. This animal, this monster, was coming for you.

He went to the chest and slid a knife from the row. You bounced in frustration on the bed and shook your head. No, no, no, this couldn’t happen. His weight caused the bed to dip as he lowered himself between your legs. He looked up at you as he pressed the cold blade to your thigh. You squeaked and bit down.

“You see, if one doesn’t know what they’re doing then it’s difficult to know what cuts will kill and which won’t,” he slithered. “But if they do, they know how much pressure, what angle,” he pushed the point down and you felt it pierce your skin, “where to cut… just for a taste. That’s all.”

He sliced along your thigh, a shallow but painful cut. You cried out and he did the same to your other leg. Your feet arched as your muscles tensed and you pulled against the cuffs.

The warmth of your blood was met by the heat of his mouth. You gasped as lapped at the flow and smeared it over your skin as he edged closer to your cunt. You grasped at air as your fingers curled and uncurled. You let out pathetic noises as he pressed his thumb to the slice along your other thigh.

He purred as he brushed his tongue along your pussy. He pushed carefully between your folds and you gulped. The tingle it sent through you had your heart hammering. He spread his hand over your thigh and his other gripped your hip as his tongue teased you. 

He sucked on your clit as his hand slipped further up. You pushed your head down into the mattress as you felt a storm of hot and cold fill your core. He needed to stop. He had to stop. You couldn’t feel like this. It was wrong. He trapped you, he cut you, and now he was toying with you.

He traced two fingers along the crease of your thighs and pushed against your entrance. You moaned and he dipped them inside slowly. He stretched you around his vibranium digits until his knuckles were pressed to your cunt. He curled his fingers and moved them in time with his tongue.

You bared your teeth as you tried to resist the instinctual response of your body. The way your core pulsed and buzzed without your consent. You whined as he brought you closer and closer to your peak. Between your mewls, one word was clear; ‘no, no, no.” 

You went rigid as the waves rolled over you and your climax overwhelmed your fear. He urged you through it, his fingers working into you quickly as your sighs turned to sobs. He didn’t stop until you were shaking and wincing against his touch.

He raised his head and drew his fingers from inside you. You looked down at him, his beard and nose stained red. Your stomach flipped and your fear spiked once more. He took the knife from beside your leg and backed off the bed. His cock bobbed with each step as he went to the chest and unsheathed another blade.

He returned to you. This time he moved to straddle you as he turned the knife in his hand. He admired the sheen of the metal and poked your lips with the tip. He trailed over your chin and traced the line of your cheek. His blue eyes sparkled as he teased you.

“You’re beautiful…” he breathed, “I could never ruin that face.”

He brought the blade to your neck and lingered on the still tender flesh. He continued on to your chest and circled your nipples. His hand cupped one tit as the knife played with the other. He moved his hips and grinded against you.

He closed his eyes and took a breath. He hovered the knife below your clavicle and turned the tip to your skin. He split the flesh slowly along the centre of your chest, a red line rising between your breast. Again, it was shallow, enough to bleed, enough to make you sick.

He set the knife down on the mattress and his fingers crawled along the incision. Your torn skin stung at his touch and he bent over you. He traced the line with his tongue and lifted his head. He pressed his hot lips to yours and forced his tongue inside. You tasted the metallic taint of your own blood and groaned.

His chest rubbed against your and you felt the warmth as it spread across his skin. His hand felt around as he lifted his pelvis and moved his knee between your legs. He slickened his fingers with your blood and once more began to play with your cunt. You squirmed and tried to turn your head away from him. He bit down on your lip and shoved his fingers inside of you.

“Baby girl,” He drew away, “You’re ready for me.”

“No--” He pulled his fingers out of you and his hand came up to wrap around your neck and he shushed you once more.

His eyes bore into yours as he angled his hips. He shifted as his tip poked along your cunt. He slowly pressed against you until he slipped inside. You grunted and bit down on your lip. You shook your head as his hand grew tighter. He eased into you an inch at a time and your eyes rolled back as he reached his limit.

He sighed as he moved his thighs flush to yours. His heavy breaths filled your ears as he began to rock. He thrust into you carefully, relishing in each long stroke. He hummed as he kept a steady rhythm. You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to resist the burgeoning swell in your core.

He moved fast and pushed himself up, his hand still on your neck, nearly crushing your windpipe. His other hand stretched across the gash on your chest and he slammed into you harder and harder. The clap of his flesh echoed through the room as the blood from your thighs seeped onto his.

The bed quaked beneath your bodies as he pounded into you, his voice rising with each tilt of his hips. Your own breathy moans floated in the air and knotted in your chest.

“Baby girl,” he growled, “Fuck, you feel so good… you taste so good.”

He lifted his hand from your chest and you opened your eyes. He licked your blood from his hand, his left still firmly at your throat.

“You’re gonna look so pretty,” he touched the cut again and played with your blood. His chest was marked with red and it trickled down his muscled stomach as he hammered into you. “This is gonna be a pretty little mark, isn’t it?”

You gnashed your teeth and turned your head. You stared at the blank wall as your thighs tensed against his. You gasped as your orgasm rose violently and your body spasmed.

Bucky let go of your neck and grabbed the knife. Your eyes followed the blade and he pressed it along his chest and cut into his left peck. He stilled as the blood leaked from his flesh and he put the knife aside once more. He coated his fingers in his blood and wiped them across your lips. He forced his way inside your mouth and began to fuck you again.

He lowered himself over you. He slipped his fingers from your mouth and grabbed your chin. He kissed you deeply, tasting the mix of your blood. He pulled away as he began to pant and rutted into you without relent. He snarled and pressed his lips to your cheek.

“You feel that, baby girl,” he rasped, “Hmm, you’re going to make me cum. You want it inside of you?”

“Please--” you whispered.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby girl. Over and over--” He jerked his hips with each word, “And over-- and over--”

He hissed and thrust into as deep as he could. He spasmed and rolled his hips as his cum spilled into you. He slowed and let his weight down onto you. You could feel his heart pounding in his chest and your own beat loudly in your ears.

“Over and over… baby girl,” he murmured and flinched. He slid his arm up under you and slowly moved his hips. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

👁️

You were in a daze when Bucky finally untied you. He left you limp across the bed as he packed up the knives and locked them away. He sat lightly on the edge of the bed with a wet cloth and began to wipe away the blood from your cuts. You winced but only closed your eyes and waited for it to be over.

Your entire body hurt. You lost count of how many times he’d fucked you. He cut you again on your thighs and under your breasts. You were caked in your own blood and sweat. He washed you gently and you let him. You hoped he would go when he finished.

He stood and you heard the heavy lid of the chest again. He returned to you and wiped each cut; the alcohol tickled your nostrils and burned your skin. The bleeding had mostly stopped but he bandaged each carefully. The crumple of wrappers and the tinny clasp of metal. He rose again and the padlock was snapped shut.

“You have to keep yourself clean, baby girl,” he said. “I’ve left some bandages and wipes out for you. I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you.”

You ignored him and rolled onto your side painfully. You shivered and hugged yourself. You’d wait for him to leave before you cried. You listened to him dress. He hadn’t cleaned himself up. Your blood was still smeared over his face.

“Good night, baby girl.” He looked at you for a moment. “Are you cold? Do you want a blanket?”

You didn’t answer and just stared at the wall.

“It’s okay, baby girl,” he cooed as his footsteps neared the door, “It’ll take some time… but we both felt how much you liked it.”

The door opened and clunked behind him. Your eyes pricked and you closed them as the tears began to fall. You grabbed the pillow and hugged it as your entire body was wracked with sobs.

You wished he had cut you deeper. You wished he had just killed you. There was no other way out.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #mcu #marvel #serial killer #serial killer au #scopaesthesia #winter soldier

[troublesomeshika]

After all this time, I'm still into you (3)

shikamaru nara x reader word count: 4.7k warnings: swearing, anti-kiba, fluff

You woke up groggily, the events of the day before coming back to you in pieces as you solved the puzzle. Something fluttered in your stomach but you pushed it down. Looking at the clock you saw it showed 10:07. If you were going to get your errands done, you needed to be out of bed thirty minutes ago at the latest. You threw the covers off, stretching as you stood. First things first: laundry. You threw your clothes from the night before into your hamper, grabbing the few stragglers that lay around the room to be sure they made it in. Quickly throwing on an outfit, you grabbed the hamper and walked it down to the washing room. After you’d finished and hung up your clothes to dry, it was almost noon. You glanced at your pantry, seeing the dust that had begun collecting on some of the shelves and groaned. You needed to hand in your fixed report so groceries would just have to wait until later tonight.

You were jogging, it had taken longer than you’d expected to hand everything in and it was already past twelve. You came to a halt a block from Ichiraku and tried to steady your breathing. Looking down, you smoothed out your shirt and ran your hands over your hair before shaking your head. You were having lunch with a friend, you didn’t need to look perfect. Shaking your head, you looked up to see Shikamaru standing outside the ramen shop with an eyebrow raised. 

“How are you always late to everything?” he chided as you walked up and ducked beneath the pulled back curtain into the small booth. 

“Sorry, sorry, errands took longer than I thought.” You smiled at Teuchi behind the counter as you took a seat near the wall. Shikamaru sat next to you, your elbows bumping together in the small area. You willed your stomach not to flip at such a small thing, reminding yourself, once more, that you were friends, best friends.

“So, they took it with your corrections and everything?” Shikamaru looked up from the menu.

“Hm? Oh yeah, I got chewed out for making the mistake even though they already yelled at me for it when they first gave it back, but it’s whatever.”

He chuckled, “Maybe you’ll do it correctly next time.”

You slapped his arm, looking down at the menu to decide what you wanted. Once the two of you ordered, you turned to him. “So what have you done today? Been at all productive, or no?” 

He glared at you, “I’ll have you know that I woke up early and went to training with Ino and Choji, so no comments on my laziness. I’ve earned the rest of the day off.” 

“Oh so one morning training session earns you a half day off? Guess I should have at least 2 years of vacation stored up then.”

“Uh, yeah. And yet you’d never take any unless I made you. But don’t worry, I’m a giver.” He smirked at the last part.

You rolled your eyes, “Oh yes, it must be so hard, but thank god you make the sacrifice.” Your voice dripped with sarcasm.

He shrugged, “It’s my duty, otherwise I’d be hard at work right now.” That made you laugh out loud, something about the idea of Shikamaru working hard was unimaginable. “Hey, woah it’s not that funny, I do work hard sometimes.” That only made you snort.

“Mhmm yeah, you. Shikamaru Nara. Working hard at something? That’d be a site to s-”

“Y/N?” You heard a voice behind you, which made you turn your head. 

“Oh, uh hey Kiba.” You smiled and brought a finger to your face, trying to quickly wipe the small tears at the corner of your eye.

He only glowered in response, looking between you and Shikamaru. “Already moved on, huh?” 

Your brow furrowed, “What?” You glanced at Shikamaru whose face showed no emotion.

“I saw the way you used to look at him, you’re doing it now. I knew you had feelings for him the whole time.” 

“Woah woah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He scoffed in response.

“Hey, I’m trying to have lunch with my friend, so you can kindly fuck off if you’re gonna be weird about it.” You started to turn back around before he piped up again.

“So were you fucking him behind my back or is this a new development?” he sneered, “I should’ve known when you said it just wasn’t working between us, can’t expect you to slow down, right?” 

You felt like the air had been knocked out of you. “Excuse me?” You stood, raising an eyebrow at the boy in front of you, “I didn’t do what you’re accusing me of, but if you wanna do this in public, let’s do it,” Your smile was icy- you loved him, how could he ever accuse you of something like this? 

“No,” he shook his head. “I’ve had enough of this, Y/N.” 

“Enough of what?” Shikamaru’s drawl came from behind you, “Kiba, stop spouting off.” 

“You shut your mouth!” Kiba exploded.

“You’re the one accusing people here!!” You yelled at him. 

“Yeah because you’re the one on a date weeks after breaking up with me and acting all heartbroken.”

“So what if she’s on a date, Kiba, you don’t own the girl.”

“This isn’t a date and Shikamaru, stay the fuck out of this.” You gritted your teeth. The last thing you needed was another person involved in whatever this was.

“God, the two of you are so troublesome, you’re drawing a crowd. Kiba, just leave, you’re not going to accomplish anything here.”

The boy practically snarled at the two of you, baring his teeth before turning on his heel to stalk off. You were breathing heavy, fists clenched when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Rounding on Shikamaru you spat at him, “Why did you butt in? I didn’t ask you to say anything, now he’s definitely going to think I cheated on him. God!” You brought your hand to your forehead and squeezed hard.

“Hey, just.... sit back down. C’mon.” He guided you to your stool as you felt the lump in your throat that had been threatening to form.

“Why did he have to do that in public.... Now everyone will think I’m a cheater.” You stared at the counter in front of you. 

“It’s Kiba, what could you expect? He’s a hotheaded idiot, I still can’t believe you even gave him the time of day, let alone dated him.”

“Really not the time, Shikamaru.” You pressed your fingers to your temples, “I didn’t need this today.” Your nerves were so shot that when Ayame placed your order in front of you, you jumped.

“Honestly, I really don’t think anyone is gonna think that.” His hand rested on your back now, but you were too preoccupied to think about it.

“God, I just, the worst part is that I still love him so much? Why would he....” tears reappeared at the corners of your eyes, this time stinging with anger and pain.

“Hey, look at me.” You continued staring at the bowl in front of you, afraid that if you moved, your composure would break and you’d be reduced to crying in public. “Y/N, I need you to look at me, right now.” Shikamaru’s voice was firm and unwavering, but you could only shake your head softly. You sensed him stand up beside you before he turned your body and enveloped you in a hug. Your face hidden, tears spilled quickly onto his shirt, it was short but needed. You clenched your fist, digging your nails into your palm to ground you before taking a deep breath and untangling yourself from Shikamaru. When you looked up, his cheeks were flushed, likely from secondhand embarrassment. 

You smiled sheepishly, “Sorry about that, didn’t mean to fall apart on you!” you wiped your face quickly, turning to your bowl of food, “Better eat before it gets cold!” You forced an upbeat tone into your voice, trying to hide how you felt. Shikamaru sat down beside you and you felt his gaze still on you. “I’m okay, really, I just.... Having a bad day I guess.” You took a bite of your food and swallowed it, willing the lump in your throat to disappear. “Anyways, I overheard that your team is being sent out on a mission soon, do you know what it’s for?” Looking up, his eyes were studying you, picking you apart as only he could. 

He turned to his own food, picking up noodles on his chopsticks before replying, “I think it’s something about retrieving some stolen information, but I’m not sure. I didn’t really read the message they sent me, just looked at when we’re leaving.” 

“Which is?” You took another bite, beginning to realize how hungry you were.

“Tomorrow morning.” He took a bite and your eyes lingered on his lips a second longer than a friend’s eyes should. 

“Oh, so you probably need to get ready, I guess just lunch for today then.”

“Tch, you’re not getting out of it that easily. Especially after what just happened.”

You rolled your eyes, taking another bite before replying, “Please, it was a momentary lapse for me, I’m really alright and if you need to cut out to prepare, I can just take a rain check.”

He shook his head. “You trying to weasel out of this is tiring and it’s making me need the time off even more.”

You sighed, “Fine fine,” you held up your hands, finished with your meal, “lemme know when you’re ready to go.”

He looked up, mildly shocked, “You’re already done?”

Shrugging you grinned at him, “Need the fuel to keep me energized.”

He simply sighed and began eating faster. You took the opportunity to ask Ayame for the bill. By the time you’d paid, Shikamaru had finished his own serving and was standing waiting for you. “Ready?” you asked. He nodded and the two of you began walking. You talked to Shikamaru, going on about something Ino had said recently, not really paying much attention to where you were going. This made it all the more surprising when you looked around and realized you were in the woods, surrounded by trees. “Shikamaru? Where are we?” 

He chuckled, “Took you long enough to realize.”

Your heart was pounding as you realized you must be in the Nara woods. “Hey uh, I’m not gonna get trampled and beaten up by your deer right?”

“As long as you don’t annoy me, no. You’re here with me, they won’t bother you.” You couldn’t help but glance around the trees, noticing the eyes that blended in with the scenery. You shifted closer to Shikamaru as you walked, feeling the deer watch you. You felt bad as you bumped against his arm for the fourth time, hearing him sigh. Suddenly there was a weight on your shoulder and you were pulled to the side. “There. Will you calm down now? It’s clear you’re not a threat, they just watch everyone, it’s their thing.”

You nodded in reply, but your heart rate had only sped up now that his arm was around you. Thankfully you came to a clearing of soft grass where the sun shone perfectly. You couldn’t help the soft gasp that fell from your lips as you stepped into the area.

Shikamaru chuckled beside you, “Yeah, this is my secret spot.”

You thwaked his side softly with your arm, “Shikamaru Nara. I cannot believe you never showed me this!” 

“Well then it wouldn’t have been secret now would it?” he grinned at you, but you were busy staring around the clearing.

“It’s so beautiful,” you breathed out. 

“Yeah....”

You crouched down, running your hands through the soft grass before stretching yourself out. “Well? If we’re gonna relax, let’s relax.” 

He chuckled, looking down at you, “Alright fine, but I brought you here to make sure you’d relax, so no fidgeting.” He laid down perpendicular to you, resting his head on your thighs. Feeling your heart rate spike again, you shifted and put one arm behind your head. Your foot was still bouncing softly until Shikamaru reached out and grabbed it. “Stop fidgeting,” 

You blushed, “Sorry, I didn’t realize.” He sighed in response and your hand one made its way down to his hair. You had to continue moving somehow, this was the least offensive option. Before touching his hair you made sure to ask, “You okay with this?” When he hummed in response, you began to slowly fiddle with his hair, making sure not to pull on it. It was nice, you hadn’t done this in years, but it felt natural. The sun on your skin warmed your entire body and the grass was softer than any you’d felt. There was a soft breeze that carried some kind of floral scent and the clouds were floating by serenely above. You felt more relaxed than you had in years, and as your mind drifted you felt the urge to tell Shikamaru how you felt. He had a right to know, and you had a right to make your feelings known. You knew he didn’t feel the same, and you’d made your peace with that. “Shikamaru?” 

“Mm?” he hummed quietly in response.

“You ever think about how insignificant we are in the world?”

He snorted, “Y/N what are you on?”

“I don’t quite know,” you watched the clouds drift by above, “I think I just wanna talk to you,” you wove a few strands of his hair carefully through your fingers.

“As long as I don’t have to respond,” you tugged lightly on his hair in response.

“So you don’t mind if I just talk mindlessly to you?”

“No, I don’t mind Y/N. Feel free to babble about whatever you’d like.”

You smiled at his word choice, “Okay, well I feel like I owe you the truth especially after earlier today,” He only sighed, waiting for you to continue. “What Kiba said wasn’t actually that crazy, I realized last night that....” you paused, taking a deep breath, “I have feelings for you and they aren’t friend feelings,” you rushed your next words, making sure to get them out before he could reply, “I tried to get over it, but.... I’m still into you.” You stared straight up, focusing on a misshapen cloud that was floating lazily overhead.

“Is that all?” Shikamaru’s voice sounded mildly amused.

“Yeah, just.... thought I’d tell you,” you felt more comfortable, especially since he hadn’t sat up or pulled away. You closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of not hiding anything.

“Well, I guess you ought to know that I feel the same.” His voice didn’t change at all and he sounded almost bored.

Your heart stopped and your eyes snapped open, but you didn’t move. “You.... do?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, okay.” you paused, unsure of what to do next. You felt Shikamaru shift and you sat up. You looked into his eyes, noticing his slight smirk as you waited for his next move.

His hand was resting on your thigh and he looked down at it before speaking, “I guess the next thing is for me to ask you out,” his thumb traced soft circles across your leg, “what a drag.”

“Well seeing as I confessed, shouldn’t I be the one to ask you out?” You raised an eyebrow, grinning at him. “So Shikamaru,” he shook his head, chuckling as you continued, “will you go out with me?”

He looked up and grinned, “I’d love to.”

Your heart swelled as you reached out and cupped his face, softly stroking his cheek. You sighed, “Maybe it’s too early, but.... I think I love you Shikamaru Nara.”

A blush covered his usually reserved features as he shifted to hide his face against your stomach, “Troublesome woman,” You laughed and tangled your fingers in his hair as you laid back again. “I think I love you too.” he murmured softly into your skin. The smile on your face wouldn’t go away as you closed your eyes, relishing in the feeling of happiness that washed over you.

“So does this mean you’ll start paying for meals?”

“Not if you keep losing, our rule still stands.”

You hummed, softly running your hands through his hair. “Mm fine. When’s our next rematch then? I need to know so I can get your dad to teach me.”

His head appeared above you, his ponytail messy from your fingers, “You wanna come over tonight?”

You smiled at his eagerness, “Shikamaru, I don’t think your mom would take kindly to me bumming two meals in a row off you guys.” You reached up, caressing his face.

He leaned into your hand and smirked, “Please, you know she loves you, more than me.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Maybe it’s because I don’t lay around her house and mutter things under my breath when she asks for help.”

“You’re so rude,” He frowned, “maybe I won’t go out with you.”

You pulled his head to your shoulder, “Then I’ll just have to pester you until you do.”

“You would wouldn’t you,” he melted into you and you smiled at his weight on your body.

“Mhmm. If I have to come throw rocks at your window every night, I will.” You pressed a soft kiss on the side of his head. “If that’s what it will take, then that’s just what I’ll have to do. But it would be so very troublesome,” you threw his favorite phrase back at him to which he only huffed, “so please don’t make me.”

“Fine. But come over tonight?” He murmured into your ear, his hot breath making goosebumps run their way down your body.

You twirled the short hair at the nape of his neck as you thought about it, “Alright, I guess you’ve convinced me.”

He shifted and pressed a small kiss to your cheek. “Whoever thought I’d be the one having to force you to do things?”

“Quite a change of pace hmm?”

He rolled onto his back and pulled your body close to his, “Well then, I’ll have to make sure to beat you next time we compete so we can balance things out again.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” You nuzzled into his chest, and everything felt right. Breathing in his soft and familiar smell, you felt yourself drifting in the afternoon sun. The next thing you knew, soft kisses were being pressed against your head as you heard Shikamaru murmuring your name. Your eyelids fluttered open and you tilted your head to look up at him. A drowsy smile adorned his lips which you mirrored.

“Hi,” he breathed out.

You laughed softly, “Hi,” you felt like a schoolgirl again, shy and soft.

“How was your nap?”

“Wonderful, you make a great pillow.” You both sat up. Shifting to straddle him, you threw your arms around his shoulders. The sun was setting and it was catching on his hair just perfectly. You leaned forward and pressed your forehead to his, taking a deep breath. “I think this is the happiest I’ve been in awhile.”

“Oh really? All because of me?” His lips were tilted up in a cocky smirk.

You leaned forward slowly, lips barely brushing his and breathed out, “All because of you.” before pushing your lips against his. The way you two moved against each other was natural. You felt his hands grip your hips as you pulled away for air. A soft breeze blew past, alerting you to how flushed your face was as the cool air hit your cheeks. You leaned your head back to look up at the sky, noticing the stars beginning to shine above. “We should probably get back, seems our day off has ended.”

Shikamaru sighed, tugging you closer to him, “What a drag, how about five more minutes?”

You smiled, and tapped his nose with your finger, “C’mon lazy, let’s go.” You stood and held your hands out to him. He took them and you pulled him up, lingering there, fingers tangled together before you began pulling him back towards the village.

“That’s the wrong way, genius.” He laughed and pulled you the other way and you smiled sheepishly.

“Sorry, guess you just make my head spin so much I don’t know which ways which.”

He groaned, “Please tell me that’s the only dumb line you’re gonna use.”

“Well, I got lost in your eyes, but since you know where you’re going I’ll just follow your lead.” You were grinning up at him, a shit eating grin plastered across your face. You opened your mouth, about to continue, but he cut you off quickly with a kiss.

“Dork,” he muttered, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You began walking back the way you’d come, offering up different terrible pick up lines whenever they came to you. By the time you came to the road you were sure he was questioning his earlier decision of saying yes to you, the only thing betraying otherwise was the slight upturn of the corner of his mouth. You turned towards his house, seeing the lights on, and you were struck by how much had changed in 24 hours. It felt crazy, but it also felt right. Shikamaru groaned beside you, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

“You okay?”

“I just don’t wanna have to tell my parents about us, my mom’s gonna be insufferable about it.”

You stopped walking, “Well, I don’t have to come over, really it’s fine. We spent the whole day together.”

“No no,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “I want you to come over.”

“Okay well then we don’t have to tell your parents about us.”

He shifted from foot to foot, clearly thinking, “Hmm, I guess so.”

You laughed and pushed him away, “Then we’re back to platonic for tonight.”

“One more kiss? Just to tide me over.” He raised an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the request, “Hmm, I guess so.” You mocked him as he stepped closer and tilted your head up with his index finger, kissing you soft and slow.

He pulled away, dropping his hand from your chin, “Ready for another friendly dinner? Emphasis on the friend part.”

“I am, let’s go,” you both walked up to his front door and he opened it for you, the smell of mackerel wafting out the door, “You just keep winning today huh?” You glanced at him, knowing how much he loved the food, but he only grinned in response.

You walked in and were greeted by Yoshino who was visibly surprised to see you. “Oh, Y/N, Shikamaru didn’t tell me we were expecting you back again tonight!”

You blushed, embarrassed, “I’m sorry for the intrusion ma’am. I don’t have to stay for dinner, it's not a big deal!” You turned to Shikamaru ready to bid him goodbye but he didn’t look at you.

“It’s fine, I’m sure we have enough for you, right mom?”

“Yes, of course! That’s not at all what I meant!” Yoshino rushed to assure you, “I was just surprised is all. Well, Shikamaru come and help me serve the food, your dad is just getting changed out of his work clothes. Feel free to sit down, Y/N.” Shikamaru smiled at you, touching the small of your back softly before continuing through to the kitchen. You walked over to the shogi board that was still out, observing the game that was leftover from the night before, the one that had led to lunch this afternoon, where you’d seen Kiba.... had it really been this afternoon that that had happened? You still felt terrible about it, but the sound of Shikaku entering the room forced you to push your thoughts aside.

“Ah, Y/N! Back to join us?” 

You smiled and nodded, “Yes sir, also, real quick, I was wondering, do you think you could tell me why I lost this game last night?”

He grinned, “Ah, want to know what you should’ve done to beat him?”

“Yes sir.” You took a seat where Shikamaru had sat and Shikaku took your position.

“Well, it looks like when you moved your lance, you left yourself open to attack, and from there you were bound to end up in checkmate. You should have left your lance where it was,” he began explaining how you should’ve gone about capturing Shikamaru’s pieces. You tried to pay attention, you really did, but shogi was just so boring and so much had happened that your mind began wandering on its own. “And then he would’ve been stuck in checkmate and you would’ve won.” Shikaku finished his explanation looking up at you.

You looked up and nodded, “I’ll be honest I don’t know if I got all that but I think some of it stuck somewhere in my brain so thank you.”

He bobbed his head, frowning, “Well, if you’d like me to train you, you know where to find me, I’m always up to help you beat Shikamaru.” He smiled and stood, “Now, we should probably make our way to dinner before Yoshino gets angry.”

You stood and followed him through to see Shikamaru putting the plates out with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. He looked so domestic it made you smile. He glanced up at you and you felt your stomach flip as he flashed you a smirk. You sat in the same place you had the night before, and made polite conversation as you ate. The topic of your day came up and you were forced to confess how Shikamaru had forced you to go cloud watching with him.

“Oh, so he roped you into his lazy antics as well?” Yoshino glared at Shikamaru who only shrugged.

You laughed, “Yes, but I think I was in need of a day off so it wasn’t unwelcome.”

“Who isn’t, I could use a day off. How about we go cloud watching, honey?” Shikaku smiled at his wife.

“Hm, I don’t know about cloud watching, but you could stand to take some time off as well.” You admired the way they were so comfortable with each other, going back and forth. Seeing how clearly they loved each other caused you to look fondly across the table at Shikamaru.

Yoshino spoke up, “You know, I was always so sure you two would get together.”

“Mom!”

You flushed bright red and stared down at your food, trying hard to suppress your smile.

Yoshino held her hands up, “I’m only being honest.” Shikamaru groaned and took a bite of his food, his cheeks red like yours, “Some things just make sense and I always thought the two of you were one of those things.”

You laughed awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed when a bird flew in through the open window, saving you from any further conversation. Shikaku stood and retrieved the message from the bird who left the same way it had entered.

“It’s for you, Shikamaru.” He handed the small scroll to him before returning to his seat.

Shikamaru unrolled it and began reading before he sighed, “They moved up the time for the mission, we’re leaving in a few hours, what a drag.”

You all quickly finished your meal, making sure that you helped to clean up before saying goodnight. Shikamaru walked you to the front porch, closing the door behind him. He pulled you in for a hug, arms circling your waist and his head resting on your shoulder as you slowly stroked up and down his back. “Can’t believe we just got together and I have to leave for a mission, how troublesome.” He murmured into your hair.

You laughed, “Well you were fine before we were together, I’m sure you’ll be fine this time as well.” You pulled back and cupped his face, “Just, make sure you come back to me, you know?” You leaned up and kissed him, soft and slow just like he had kissed you earlier.

“Of course,” he kissed your forehead before letting you go. As you walked away, you turned and glanced back. He was leaning against the house watching you, a lit cigarette hanging from his lips and smoke curling around his head. You grinned, shaking your head before you continued on your way, happiness blooming in your chest.

#shikamaru x reader #shikamaru x y/n #shikamaru nara #shikamaru nara x reader #shikamaru fluff #shikamaru x you #shikamaru x (y/n) #shikamaru nara x (y/n) #nara shikamaru #nara shikamaru x reader #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #naruto #anime #reader insert #x reader

[mimisempai]

You walked into my life like you had always lived there

Summary

Charles has resigned himself to a life alone in Paris, but he might be surprised by a visit from an "old friend"... Will they get another chance to reach happiness?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31463351

Words:3719 - Chapters:1/1

This morning, like every other morning, sitting on the terrace of the café downstairs from his small apartment, Charles was waiting for his usual coffee while watching the bustle of the street. Delivery men unloading their vans at the grocery store on the corner, the bookstore owner unpacking his shelves, a tourist couple having their picture taken with the view of Montmartre in the background. The passers-by, people going to work, others walking their dogs. All this lively and colorful world coming and going, talking, laughing, reminded him of the hallway of a certain school, in the mornings just before the students entered their classrooms.

And like every morning, Charles was acutely aware of his loneliness. He had voluntarily closed his mind to all other thoughts than his own.

Thoughts that were enough to torment him.

More often than not, they were memories which he forced himself to face. His mistakes, what he should or should not have done. Searching, dissecting when he had lost sight of his values. At what point he had let down those he had sworn to protect since the day he had discovered Raven in his kitchen so many years ago.

But appeasement never came.

At the beginning, Hank gave him news of the school, of the progress of the students, news of each one and then little by little the messages had spaced, Charles put more and more time to answer, letting the distance grow voluntarily. It was now 3 months that he had no news and it was good like that.

Raven, Jean, Alex... and the names of all the others were spinning in his head, like a macabre dance, a torture he was inflicting on himself to atone.

There was only one name that he refused to pronounce, that he refused to think about. The one name that had always been able to read him without having any telepathic powers.

"You're always sorry, Charles. And there's always a speech. But nobody cares anymore."

"Will that be all sir?"

The waitress, pulling him out of his musings, put his coffee on the table.

"Yes, thank you," Charles replied.

"Mutant and proud."

Raven had always been right,

"Or is that only with pretty mutations or invisible ones, like yours. But if you're a freak, better hide."

Mutant yes, but proud he was no longer. He was the freak who had to hide.

He took a sip of his coffee and ran his hand over his face.

He suddenly felt a presence behind his back, and a shiver went through him at the sound of the voice with such familiar inflections,

"How's retirement treating you Charles?"

Erik sat down and placed a small case containing a chess set at his feet. Why was he there? To taunt him? To provoke him? Charles resisted the temptation to read his mind. He clenched his fist on his knee. Erik was the only one to provoke this storm of emotions in him. The only one who had the capacity to unsettle him.

So as always he chose the attack,"What are you doing here, Erik?"

He finally dared to meet Erik's eyes, and he almost gasped, because, in the blue-gray eyes, there was nothing of the harshness, of the disappointment from their last meeting. Erik's gaze was kind and open as he replied with a slight smile, "I came to see an old friend. Fancy a game?"

Erik showed him the chess set at their feet. Their usual chess game, the moment when their minds clashed. That space outside of time, where despite the fights and conflicts, they always managed to find each other. But this time Charles wasn't sure he had the strength to offer Erik a worthy opponent. So he shook his head and replied, "No, not today. Thank you."

He looked away. He couldn't look at Erik when so many emotions were running through him. He was sure he would never see the only man he had ever loved again, and there he was in front of him, beautiful, making Charles even more aware of his own state.

"A long time ago, you saved my life. Then you offered me a home. I'd like to do the same for you."

Charles studied Erik's expression for a long time. Always the same openness and acceptance. He was once again tempted to read Erik's mind.

"You can, you know." Erik made the hand motion that Charles made when he wanted to access someone's mind.

As always he had seen right through Charles, but again no disappointment or disgust in the voice and the eyes.

Charles after swallowing, answered in a slightly hoarse voice, having trouble containing his emotions.

"I don't do that anymore."

Erik simply nodded with a half smile, put his hands in his pockets, then took them out, and held them out in front of him in clenched fists, just like in the old days.

"Just one game. For old times' sake."

Charles gave in, he didn't feel like fighting anymore, he didn't feel like pretending. So he held out his hand to Erik's right fist, which opened to a white pawn.

Erik said with a slight teasing smile, "I'll go easy on you."

Charles replied with the same smile, just a little more hesitant, "No, you won't."

As they set up the pieces, Erik added, "I might surprise you, you know Charles."

Charles stopped his motion as he went to move a knight, and said with emotion in his voice as he stared into Erik's eyes, "You already have."

Time stood still for a moment, neither of them able to take their eyes off the other. Then Charles continued his movement and the game resumed.

The sun was high in the sky when they finished their game. It was Erik who had won. But as always, no matter who won, neither of them cared, the important thing was the duel not the result.

"Well?" inquired Erik as he closed the chess set, "Did you have time to think about my offer?"

"Did you mean it?" Charles hoped Erik couldn't hear the eagerness in his voice, because he really wanted to accept Erik's offer. But did he deserve it? Did he have a right to this home Erik was offering him? And what did a home even mean?

His hand began to tremble slightly, as if he wanted to grasp something, but didn't dare. He closed his eyes to compose himself.

He felt a hand rest on his as Erik's voice said softly, "Charles...". He opened his eyes. Erik's hand opened his clenched fist and intertwined his fingers with his. Charles slowly raised his eyes to Erik's face.

The urge to surrender, to let go, hit Charles even harder. He could see so much in Erik's eyes, but he was so afraid of being disappointed and of disappointing... again. He closed his fingers over Erik's and tried to swallow the lump that was forming in his throat.

Erik continued, "Charles, no demands, no debts, no obligations, this is completely free, I'm just offering you a simple and protected life. It's far from a castle life, but Genosha is a small, isolated island where we have created a self-sufficient community. Most of the inhabitants are like us, "retired" mutants with wounds to heal. You can-"

Charles interrupted him, "It's okay Erik, no need to say any more, I accept. " and after a moment of silence, he added, "Thank you."

Erik simply smiled, put his other hand over their entwined hands and said, "I'm just showing the same generosity that you have shown to me over and over again. No need for gratitude between us. We are just two friends and..."

Erik paused as if he were about to say something else.

"And?" asked Charles, curious about what Erik had stopped himself from saying.

For the first time since the beginning of this meeting, Erik looked a little unsettled before answering, "Nothing... well at least not now."

Charles didn't insist, he knew there was a lot to clear up between them. But now that he had decided to follow Erik to his island, he knew they had time.

"So how do we do this?"

Erik replied as he stood up, "I'll go with you to your flat, you take what you need for a few days, and we'll leave for Genosha. You can get the rest delivered later."

"So soon?"

"Why wait? Do you have obligations here, people to say goodbye to?"

"No!" replied Charles curtly, angry at having been found out once again.

He began to roll his wheelchair quickly toward the entrance of his building. Erik joined him in two strides before putting his hand on his shoulder. Charles felt bad for being so touch starved that this simple touch immediately soothed him.

"Charles, I know what it's like, I've been there. Don't get upset. It wasn't a criticism or a mockery." He squeezed Charles' shoulder before letting his hand fall back.

"I know..." sighed Charles. "Come on."

As they walked through the door of Charles' tiny apartment, sensing that Erik was about to say something, Charles admonished him, "Don't say anything."

Erik waved his hand, as if he were zipping up his mouth without hiding his smile, but finally couldn't help himself.

"My Charles, do you live in that shoebox? I'm disappointed in you! Pretty spartan."

Seeing Charles' dark glare, he pretended to surrender. "Ok, ok, I'm not saying anything more."

Charles muttered, "Liar."

Then they gathered Charles' things and a few hours later they were on their way to Genosha.

__________

Two weeks later, Charles was unpacking the last of the boxes that had just arrived, mostly books. Erik had built him some makeshift shelves. His "residence" like all of Genosha’s, was made of salvaged materials, but Charles didn't mind. Although he had always lived in a certain opulence, he knew how to make do with little.

"Need a hand?"

Erik had just stepped through the curtain that served as a door.

"I'm not saying no."

They hadn't had time to really talk and clear the air between them, but Erik was very thoughtful. Charles was a little insecure, not knowing where he stood. So he decided to just take things as they came. If he was honest with himself, he knew how he felt about Erik. But he wouldn't act, he didn't want to risk breaking the friendship they were rebuilding.

Erik had begun unpacking a box of books.

"Do you have a particular order?"

"No put them on the shelves as they come for now."

So Erik began to put the books away, commenting on some of the titles.

"Oh Charles, Charlotte Brontë really? Jane Eyre as well?"

"Hey Erik, just because you're helping me doesn't mean you have to like what I read."

"Ho Ho! You even marked a page."

Charles remembered, what page and what words he had written in the margin.

"Erik, please put that book away, it doesn't matter."

But he could see from Erik's face that he wasn't about to let go, so he resigned himself and closed his eyes waiting for a reaction, of what kind, he didn't know.

"Charles?"

Charles squeezed his eyes tighter.

"Yes?"

"Is that about me?"

Charles had a small self-deprecating laugh before he replied, "I don't know any other Erik, so yes."

"What do you mean with 'you left Erik and now I'm bleeding'?"

Charles let out a big sigh and put his head in his hands. "This is really embarrassing...it's in relation to the underlined passage that's a little higher up if I remember correctly."

He knew the phrase by heart, because it had resonated in a special way since he'd met Erik, but he hadn't expected the raw emotion that ran through him when he heard Erik read the words aloud.

“I have a strange feeling with regard to you. As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I’m afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I’d take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, you’d forget me.”

Charles heard Erik put the book down, and a sound of footsteps, he still didn't want to open his eyes, he was too afraid of what he would read in Erik's eyes. He was aware of Erik's presence very close to him, then a hand clasped his.

"Charles, please look at me." Erik's voice was almost pleading, Charles didn't resist and opened his eyes, to see that Erik had knelt down to be at his level. Then he looked up at Erik's eyes, afraid of what he would find there, and gasped, Erik looked almost amazed, yes that's right, amazed.

"Charles is that how you still feel?" Erik asked him in an pressing tone, his eyes scanning his, leaving Charles no escape.

Charles swallowed, and despite his tight throat, he tried to answer, "Yes."

"But when... I mean since when?"

"When? Do you remember the day you managed to unlock your power. The day you let me access that memory? Well since that day, I've felt this very strong connection between us."

Erik tightened his grip on his hand and asked, "And those words in the margin?"

Charles' voice was a whisper, "After the missiles and the beach, when you left."

"Oh Charles, I...I'm so sorry." The regret was genuine in Erik's eyes.

"Don't be anymore, it's been a long time since I forgave you and since then I think I've made my share of mistakes and bad decisions. Some of which have more consequences than losing my legs. Raven was right, I had forgotten who I was. Why I started all this in the first place. I lost sight of what was important, I lost... I lost so much. And I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner, and... I'm not as evolved as I thought I was. You say you're sorry Erik, but you don't know how sorry I am. Forgive me I... I must..."

Charles had to go, he had to get out, the grief he had been feeling since he left school, no even before, since Raven's death, it was all threatening to come out, he didn't want to fall apart like that in front of Erik.

But Erik was keeping him from walking away. Still kneeling and holding his hand.

"Erik, please move over... let go of me, I have to get out, I-" the tears were starting to blur his vision, with his free hand he was trying to push his wheelchair forward.

"Charles, stop! You don't have to leave. You don't have to be alone anymore. You are not alone!"

Erik loosened Charles other hand's grip on the wheel, and suddenly took him in his arms, and he felt his lips move against his head and the words came to his ears "Charles, you can let go, even though I've failed you many times in the past, this time I won't. Let it go. Don't be afraid, I'll catch you."

Because Charles no longer had the strength to stay strong, because he was craving for someone to lean on, he let go. He let the grief engulf him, because he knew Erik was there and would keep him from drowning.

Erik continued to hold him and whispered over and over, "That's it, let it all out. I'm here mein Liebster. Let it out."

Once the crying dried up, exhaustion fell on Charles and he fell asleep in Erik's arms. He was sleeping so deeply that Erik had been able to lift him out of his wheelchair without him waking up and now he was lying with his back against Erik's front, his head under his chin and Erik's arms wrapped around Charles.

Erik had been torn when he saw his beloved overwhelmed by grief and wondered how long it had been since Charles had been able to express his pain. He had always been attracted to the shining side of Charles, he often compared them to two sides of the same coin. But when he'd found him in Paris, he'd seen that all that light was like dulled.

"Erik..." the still broken voice Charle continued, "Thank you..."

"Sshh Charles, I told you no thanks are needed between us."

"Yeah..." Erik felt Charles relax against him again.

"Sleep, meine Liebster."

Much later, Erik was awakened by a gentle brushing sensation on his face. He opened his eyes, found himself facing Charles, who was withdrawing his hand as if he had been caught with his hands in the jam jar.  Erik grabbed his hand and placed it back on his own cheek.

"Don't stop Charles..."

He saw Charles' expression ease as he gently stroked his face with feather-like touches, tracing Erik's facial lines with his fingertips.

Their faces were so close that Erik immediately caught sight of Charles gulping as a veil of sadness passed over his face.

"What's wrong?"

"I've lost you so many times already," Charles murmured.

"But I'm still here and so are you. Now we're together."

Erik couldn't resist, he crossed the remaining distance between them and put his lips to Charles'. It was as if everything fell into place in their worlds at that moment.

They remained for a long time, joined in a soft and almost innocent embrace.

Charles moved back and stared at Erik, looking for something in his eyes. He must have found what he was looking for because he smiled. His hand came up to brush a strand of hair from his face.

His lips parted and he pressed them to Erik's again. Erik licked the corner of his mouth and slid his tongue over his bottom lip, then kissed him. Charles quickly opened up to him, welcoming him wordlessly with his lips and hands in his hair. His tongue mimicked the actions of hers, and soon they were drinking from each other's lips, caught up in a thirst that would not seem to be quenched.

Erik slid his hands to Charles' waist, and pulled him as close as he could get. Charles' head fell back with a moan as Erik’s fingers slipped under his shirt and caressed his back. Erik took advantage of his distraction and lowered his head even further to press himself against his neck. He felt the slide of his tongue against his skin, then his teeth biting the same spot. Charles had a slight startle. His hands slid over Erik's shoulders and his fingers dug in. Erik immediately raised his head, worried about his reaction. "Not good?"

"No. Good. Really good," Charles reassured him in a gentle sigh. Erik smiled fondly and returned his attentions to Charles' neck. But Charles groaned and tugged at his hair, pulling Erik toward him so he could take his lips again.

Much later, as they both caught their breath. Lips to lips, forehead to forehead, Charles asked Erik, "I don't know if I was dreaming or not, but before you called me 'mein liebster', 'my dearest' if I am not mistaken."

For the first time since he had known him, Charles saw Erik's cheeks turn slightly pink. However, Erik's voice was perfectly assured as he replied, "You were not dreaming mein Liebster." He punctuated his words with a tender kiss.

"Unless you prefer, mein Schatz, my treasure." Another kiss.

"Or mein Geliebter, my beloved." Another kiss.

It was now Charles's turn to have slightly red cheeks. But he, too, looked Erik squarely in the eye and asked, "Is that really what I am?"

"Yes, my love and much more." Erik emphasized this with another kiss.

"Since when?"

"I'll show you. By looking into my thoughts in the brightest corner of my sensory memory like you did that time, you will find an additional memory beyond the one you found to help me unlock my powers."

Charles began to protest, "No Erik, I don't want to-"

Erik put a finger over his mouth, "Shhh, I'm asking you to."

He took Charles' hand and placed his fingers against his temple, in the familiar gesture he had when he wanted to access someone's thoughts.

Erik, visibly moved, addressed Charles, "What did you just do to me?"

"I accessed the brightest corner of your memory system. It's a very beautiful memory, Erik. Thank you"

"I didn't know I still had that."

Charles put his hand on his shoulder and said with strength and emotion in his voice, "There's so much more to you than you know. Not just pain and anger. There's good to you, I felt it. And when you can access all that, you'll possess a power no one can match. Not even me."

When Charles exited Erik's head, they were both deeply moved by the strength of the emotions of the shared memory.

Erik pressed his forehead against Charles'.

"What you told me that day, that there was good to me, that you felt it. It's a memory as happy as my mother's. It was also that day that I felt the connection between us. That I knew that-"

Erik paused for a moment.

"That you knew what?"

"That I was hopelessly and madly in love with you. I love you Charles. We've fought together, we've clashed, we've been through terrible trials sometimes together, sometimes against each other, but this, what I feel for you has always been my ultimate truth. I love you Charles."

Charles once again gasped, this time at the open adoration he read on Erik's face.

He raised his hand to his face, tracing the outline of it he said, his voice broken, "Despite all the detours I've taken, all the bad decisions you or I have made, every time, when it counted, you were there by my side, that unchanging presence. I can't tell where you start and where I end. I love you Erik, more than my life."

There. That moment. This moment of perfect communion after all they had been through. The fate, the choices, the events that had separated them, brought them together in a spiral that never seemed to end, it was all over. It was time for them to live. It wasn't the end, it was the beginning. This was their story.

___________

Although I am very familiar with X-men - Movie verse, I have never written for this fandom before. After rewatching Dark Phoenix, I'm only holding onto this ending scene. I wanted to write about Erik and Xavier from there. I hope I did them justice.

Not beta'd I hope you enjoyed your reading.

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