#I don’t know what it’s like being blind

[scalingsvt8thusiast]

Wait for your love Pt 3

summary: you wait in silence, waiting for wonwoo to finally love you

inspired by Ariana Grande's We Can't be Friends (AKA Wait for your love)

a/n: as promised the final part of wait for your love :D literally just finished it. Enjoy 💞

Don’t wanna feed this monstrous fire

On a bright Saturday morning, you found yourself nestled in a booth opposite Chan.  A week into your move, Chan was finally able to convince you to join him at a nearby cafe for lunch. He  insisted that this cafe was “hidden” and such a “hole in the wall” that someone cool like you-know-who would never step within 5 feet of the place.

Chan sipped his ice americano silently, thinking of the best way of approaching the topic of you-know-who. He was becoming increasingly concerned about your maladaptive habits: barely eating meals, sleeping less than 4 hours each night and studying every waking moment. That wasn’t even the scariest part, the scariest was when he’d catch you staring into space, as if your soul had left your body.  

You were too busy admiring at your iced latte to notice a familiar figure walking pass the window adjacent to your table.

Chan, however, immediately noticed his tall friend. He prayed to all the gods that his friend was too tall to see anybody. Sadly his prayer went unanswered

Kim Mingyu immediately doubled back when he noticed his two friends sitting by the window. His eyes met Chan’s. Chan tilted his head towards you and shook his head. 

Now to any normal person, that would have meant do not come over. 

Clearly, Mingyu was anything but normal. 

“Y/n! Dino!”

Mingyu’s voice pulled you out of the staring contest you were having with your latte. You looked up to find the tall man sliding himself into the booth, shoulder to shoulder with Dino. The massive grin on his face almost blinding you. 

Dino nudged Mingyu hard on the shoulder. “Bro, what are you doing here?”

Here being halfway across town from where Mingyu lived. 

“Basketball!” Mingyu beamed at the younger man, “I’m meeting the others at a court nearby! Won- FUCK!” 

Chan dug his heel into Mingyu’s toe, keeping a smile on his face.

You jumped, startled by Mingyu’s sudden outburst. “Are you alright?”

“Dino just-,”

“He just hit is knee on the table,” Chan gave Mingyu a warning look as he pushed his foot down harder. “Long legs can be such a curse huh, bro?” 

Mingyu pulled his foot away and glared at Chan.

You blinked at the odd behaviour from your friends. 

Your eyes met Mingyu’s, you sent him a small smile before returning to stare at your latte. 

Mingyu noticed the stark contrast from your usual bubbly self. From memory, you were the girl who offered him a cup of coffee when he dragged Wonwoo’s drunk ass home at 5AM in the morning. Mingyu remembered you pestering him to send you a text when he got home so that you would know he was safe. You, who was barely his shoulder height, were worried for a tall, muscular boy like him. 

Mingyu looked at Chan and gestured towards the door. Chan nodded. 

“Sorry y/n, I’m just gonna talk to Gyu about something.” Chan spoke gently. 

“Male stuff.” Mingyu nodded as he slid out of the seat. 

They were both pretty sure your soul wasn’t even in your body at the moment from how you blankly nodded. 

Mingyu and Chan stood outside the cafe, making sure not to be in your line of sight. 

Mingyu crossed his arms. “What happened?”

“You don’t know? Wonwoo didn’t tell you?”

“I’m seeing him for the first time today.” Mingyu explained. “He’s been refusing to leave the house.”

“He busy fucking other girls?” Chan sneered. 

“I-,” Mingyu stopped, taken aback. “What?” 

“Bro. Come on.” 

“I genuinely have no idea what you are talking about.” Mingyu said as he held his hands up. 

Chan stared at the taller man for a few seconds and sighed. 

“Don’t tell anybody what I’m about to tell you.”

As you sat waiting for Chan, droplets of water began appearing on the table. 

You furrowed your brows. 

Was the ceiling leaking? 

You looked up only to feel tears rolling down your cheeks. 

You brought you hand up to your face. 

Ah, you were crying.

The tears continued. Just like your memories of Wonwoo.

“God,” You muttered, reaching for a bunch of tissues. “I’m pathetic.”

“Why can’t it be me?” You whispered as sobs started leaving your mouth. 

“Why am I so unlovable?” 

You tried to be as silent as possible, covering your face with your hands. 

That’s how Chan found you when he came back. 

He quickly guided you home. Hoping to hell that Wonwoo would stub his toe against a particular hard piece of furniture.

Me and my truth (again)

Wonwoo watched Vernon argue with Soonyoung as they threw the ball back and forth, Jeonghan stood in between the two of them mediating the argument. He wasn’t sure what they were arguing about, for all he cared they could plotting a bank robbery.

He brought his eyes down to this palms. A small smile on his face as he remembered the first time you held his hand. 

The two of you were rushing to catch the train. Back then he was still around your height and you were still much faster than him. He lagged behind you, huffing and puffing as you ran ahead. He stopped to catch his breath, bending over and placing his hands on his knees. 

You had turned back to check on him. Once you were sure he was fine, you grabbed his hand and pulled him into another sprint. Flashing him a grin. 

For the rest of the day his face was burning hot. When you asked him about it, he just blamed it on his poor stamina. He didn’t want to be that loser that got flustered when a girl touched him. He was. But at least he hoped he didn’t seem that way to you. 

“JEON WONWOO!” 

A red-faced Mingyu was storming towards him. 

Mingyu grabbed Wonwoo by the collar and lifted him up from his sitting position.

Wonwoo blinked, “What-,”

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Mingyu snarled. “I thought you were in love with y/n?”

“I am! What on earth-,”

“Then why’d you sleep with another girl?” Mingyu bellowed, tightening his grip on Wonwoo’s collar. 

Audible gasps could be heard from Soonyoung and Vernon as they abandoned their argument. Jeonghan’s eyes were as wide as saucers. 

Not waiting for a reply, Mingyu pushed Wonwoo to the ground. 

“It didn’t mean anything.” Wonwoo retorted, adjusting his glasses.

“Not to y/n it didn’t!” Mingyu fumed.

“I wanted to talk to her about it! She left before I could!” Wonwoo reasoned from his position on the ground.

“Did you ever try to reach her? Try to find her?” Mingyu fumed, “No! All you’ve been doing is rot at home while she’s crying everyday at Chan’s place!”

Wonwoo mouth fell open. You were crying?

“Mingyu that’s enough.” Jeonghan placed a hand on Mingyu’s shoulder, he had to stop this before it turned into a full blown fight. 

“You better fix yourself,” Mingyu pointed a shaky finger at Wonwoo, “before you completely lose her.”

I’m still here hanging

After the event at the cafe, you decided you weren’t ready to leave the house. Or your room for that matter. 

You gave Chan free reign over your door. He’d pop his head in and out of your room, sometimes leaving the door open even if all you were doing was lying on the floor. Chan would bring food into your room, trying to coax you into eating even if all you could manage was one or two spoonfuls. 

Minghao came over more often, bringing with his snacks from China and various tea leaves. 

“Let’s do some therapy!” 

“What?” 

“I read this thing online,” Minghao started, “it’s you burn all the stuff you have that reminds you of the person causing you pain.” 

You stared at him like he’d grown a second head.

“According to Reddit, it works.” Minghao crossed his arms and nodded. He would do anything to try to get you to leave your room. 

“Firstly, I’m not into trusting strangers on Reddit.” You turned back to the ceiling. “Secondly, burning things and the environment are a no-no for me.” 

“Well, good to know you love the environment.” Minghao muttered as he sipped his tea. 

A loud knock came from the front door.

“Were you expecting someone?” Minghao asked. 

“No, you?”

“No.”

It was a relatively safe neighbourhood, but you never knew who would want to rob poor Lee Chan and his collection of electric shavers in the bathroom. Minghao picked up a frying pan and headed to the door. 

“Who is it?” Minghao sang. 

Hearing no answer, Minghao held up the frying pan with one hand and swung the door open with the other. He came face to face with Jeon Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo eyes were wide. “Hao?”

Minghao didn’t lower the pan, maybe he should whack the boy. Sure, Chan’s collections of razors were safe, but you weren’t.

“I come in peace I swear.” Wonwoo held up his hand. 

“Debatable.” Minghao muttered, “Why are you here?” 

“Is y/n here?” Wonwoo got straight to the point.

“What if she is?” 

“I just need to talk to her.”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” Minghao crossed his arms.

“Please,” Wonwoo was not above begging when it came to you. “If you’d just let me explain to her-,”

“Hao?” Wonwoo’s ears immediately perked up at your voice. “Who is it?” 

“Please.” Wonwoo whispered.

Minghao stared at Wonwoo for what seemed like ages before letting out a sigh. 

“30 minutes.”

“Thank you!” Wonwoo’s lips stretched into a grin.

“But if I hear anything I don’t like, I’m coming straight back in with this pan.”

It’s something like a daydream

“Hao?” 

You sat up when you didn’t hear a reply from your friend. Was he murdered by the robbers? You knew Chan’s collection of razors were well sought after but you didn’t expect people were willing to kill for it. 

Wrapping yourself up in a blanket, you stepped out of your room. 

“Hao?” You called out again, making your way towards the living room. 

Instead of Minghao, there was a familiar boy in the living room. 

You froze.

“Wonwoo.” You whispered. 

“Y/n.” Wonwoo breathed. 

You were both relieved and anxious. Relieved because it wasn’t some random stranger, anxious because it was Wonwoo. 

You cleared your throat. “Where’s Hao?” 

“In the hallway,” Wonwoo answered. 

“Oh.” 

“Can we talk?” Wonwoo said, sounding almost hopeful. 

“Sure.” 

You made no move to the couch or towards him. You remained standing in the hallway. Partially because you didn’t expect him to stay long, partially because you didn’t trust yourself not to burst into tears. 

Wonwoo’s shoulders fell when he realised you were just going to stand there. Just a year ago he was able to anticipate your every want and need. It was shameful that now he couldn’t get a read on what you were thinking or feeling. 

Wonwoo took a deep breath and began.

“I’m sorry for treating you the way I did. You shouldn’t have to come and pick me up when I’m drunk at a party.” He paused and waited for your reply. 

When nothing came he continued. “I’m so sorry for not speaking to you at home or in school. It wasn’t my intention to hurt your feelings. I just didn’t know how to face you after-,” Wonwoo’s face turned red. “-after kissing you.”

“The night that I brought a girl home.”

You stiffened. 

“I swear I wasn’t in my right mind. I was drunk and I don’t remember anything from the night before. I promise it didn’t mean anything, I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.”

Wonwoo eyes searched your face, “Please, y/n, you have to believe me.” 

After a long period of silence, you finally spoke. 

“It’s fine Wonwoo, you don’t have to apologise.” 

Your voice was devoid of emotion. 

It wasn’t Wonwoo’s fault you couldn’t control your feelings. You were just unlucky to have fallen for him. 

Wonwoo blinked. 

“If that’s all you came to say,” You forced a smile before turning back towards your room. “I’m really tired so if you could please leave.”

“No, wait!” Wonwoo closed the distance between the two of you.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him. You were so shocked you dropped your blanket to the ground. You were basically nose to nose with Wonwoo right now.

“Please.” He begged, “Please come back home.” 

“Wonwoo,” You whispered, tears threatening to slip out of your eyes. “I don’t think I can live with you anymore.”

The way he was holding you, the way he was speaking to you. The false hope that grew in your heart every time Wonwoo gave you the time of day. This was the reason why you couldn’t live with him anymore. 

It hurts to know he would never love you the way you loved him. 

It hurts to know you would never be enough for him.

“Wonwoo-,” your voice broke, fresh tears started rolling down your cheeks.

“Y/n, please,” Wonwoo begged, “tell me what I can do to make you come home.” 

“Wonwoo, I-,”

“Please, y/n.”

“I can’t go with you because I’m in love with you.” 

“I-,” Wonwoo paused, “What?” 

“I know you don’t see me that way and that’s completely fine.” You blubbered, “Just please don’t make me live with you. I can’t go through that again-,” 

Wonwoo kissed you. Completely sober this time. 

He pulled back to look at you. 

Your eyes were wide, still sniffling from crying. 

“I love you too.” He said, resting his forehead on yours as he stared into your eyes. 

This was the best day of his life. 

“What?” You whispered in disbelief, was this some sort of cruel joke?

“Been in love with you since the day you sat with me in school.” He confirmed.

“But Wonwoo, that was the first day you met me.” You said softly, as Wonwoo used his thumb to wipe away your tears.

“I guess it is.” He whispered. “I’ve loved you since day one.” 

“Are you kidding me?” You said in mock annoyance. “If you had told me sooner, we wouldn’t have to go through all this.”

Wonwoo didn’t really care about all that, right now he was just happy to have you in his arms again, the fact that you loved him back made the moment all so much sweeter. 

“I can tell you again.” Wonwoo suggested with a nod. 

He began peppering kisses all over your face. With each kiss he’d stare into your eyes and very seriously say “I love you” before moving onto another site. 

You giggled at Wonwoo’s silly antiques. 

When he had finally decided you had enough of his love, he tried again. 

“Please come home.” 

You eyed him hesitantly.

“Y/n, I will personally pack all your stuff up here and bring it over. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You gave him a real genuine smile. “Of course I’ll move back with you.”

Wonwoo’s face lit up, he looked like a kid who’s Christmas came early.

“Ok guys, I’m coming back in!” Minghao’s voice came from the other side of the door. “I swear if you guys are doing any hanky panky in there you two better stop it!” 

You and Wonwoo exchanged amused looks before bursting out into laughter. 

Wonwoo vowed to spend the rest of his life making up for all that he had done and for all the time you two had lost. He thanked whoever or whatever made you sit next to him that fateful day in high school. Most of all he’d spend his days showering you with love and affection until you physically and mentally couldn’t stand it anymore. 

a/n: hope it wasn't too bad, was rushing cause i want to sleep soon. always open to comments and criticism!! 💗

[lowgothree]

𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ━━ ❛ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ❜

chapter no. 000!          

𝗈𝗈𝗈.                 ⠀CONTENT : angst-ish. reader is lowk insecure and paige is lowk not good at reassurance (its for the plot trussst)

𝗈𝗈𝗈. ⠀      WORD COUNT : 637

𝗈𝗈𝗈.   ⠀AUTHORS NOTE : lmk if yall like this or not!

THERE WAS A TIME WHERE PAIGE KISSING YOU, having you underneath her warm lips, was the best thing that could happen to you. you loved how human it was. how natural it felt for her to be on top of you, her body heat engulfing you. whenever you were together; it was like you entered a little bubble…one where only you and her existed. 

but everything is temporary, (including humanity, apparently) because one november night, she had you pinned against her bed and all you can think about is how much you hate the feeling. you’re alone together now, in the private comfort of her apartment. the blinds were drawn shut but it wouldn’t matter because by now midnight had already rolled in and everyone looking in was most likely sleeping. you had her to yourself, finally –– nothing about the setting was unusual, most of the alone time you and paige had was past 11pm. she only loved you in the dark. 

but it wasn’t enough anymore. 

perhaps you had gotten greedy, finding yourself wanting to hold her hand in less private spaces. you’d been with her for months, six to be exact, and yet it felt pointless. she wouldn’t tell anyone. she said she loved you but she couldn’t tell anyone. and it didn’t help that she was possibly the biggest flirt most likely ever. she pulled away, noticing your lack of usual enthusiasm. 

“is something wrong?” three words that jump started the end of the relationship—if you could even call it that. it was inauspicious at best, nonexistent at worst. that was your greatest fear when it came to the two of you––that there was really nothing there. those three, almost dismissive words, completely shattered you. 

you bite your tongue but it’s futile. when you open your mouth again the words escape before you even realize it, much less stop yourself from saying them. “why did you say that?”

“cause you’re being weird and i wanna know what’s up?” she says in an obvious tone, confused as to why you’d even question her motives for trying to know what’s wrong with her girlfriend. 

“no, not that.” you sigh, realizing your vagueness. “earlier.” 

paige’s confused expression doesn’t lift for even a moment, in fact, it seems to increase. 

“to the girl at the shop. when she asked if you had a girlfriend.” you reply simply, annoyed that the situation clearly meant nothing to her when it meant everything to you. at the moment, at least. “you said you weren’t looking for a relationship.”

“well, that’s not exactly a lie.” she’s mostly joking but it’s clear that you didn’t take it that way. your hand, which was running up and down the length of her spine subconsciously, stops abruptly. her words are spoken lightheartedly but they suffocate you.

“i just mean…i’m kinda with you, y’know? so i’m not actively looking.” she doesn’t know why that’s what she chose to say in that moment and those words would prove to haunt her for long after.

“would it kill you to call me your girlfriend?”

she pauses, tensing like she always does whenever you talk labels. her silence is the worst answer. her silence is indifference. she doesn’t care, of course she doesn’t. why would you even expect her to? it was clear she only wanted a good time from you.

so you decided to make this easy for her. by saying what she never ever wanted you to say to her. you sit up, standing from the bed. “i think it’s best if we don’t keep seeing each other.”

she hates how formal you sound. she hates even more how she can’t say anything. she hates how she can’t speak even when you gather your things to leave her. she let you go, too frozen to stop you.

[coldblooded-angel]

My thoughts during the Churro™ scene as a professionally licensed Yapper:

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT:

While they’re in the canteen, there’s a moment where Art looks at Patrick and you can clearly see the relief in his eyes that he has his friend there with him. (Or does he??)

I don’t think Art was lying about not keeping in touch with Patrick. In between his tennis career and his relationship, Patrick has neglected Art (which I think is because he’s so used to him being there that he just never fathomed him not being there which makes him complacent in their friendship).

But when Art realizes that once again Patrick has been taken away by just the mere image of Tashi, he’s hurt. I think in that moment Art wanted to feed that hurt, lash out and make Patrick feel the pain he feels for being left out.

Art jokes about Patrick not being there to visit him because he misses him. He misses his friend, his constant and yes, it’s in a joking manner but Patrick sees thru him (as he always does).

(The fucking head tilt took me out because it screams fond like ‘aw baby u really did miss me ure so cute when ure jealous but wont admit it’)

The entire scene (for me) turns into reassurances and doubts. Their friendship was being tested to see if it could withstand having to share their love and space with a third. Having to make concessions and space around their new desire and jealousy.

When Art tries to downplay his thoughts, trying to twist Tashi’s words to manipulate he was clearly being petty but I also think there’s some truth to his statement of not wanting Patrick to get hurt. He is his friend first but he also knows him (the same intrinsic way that Patrick knows Art) and how his friend will be able to bounce back from any relationship because Art truly doesn’t think these two are that serious (blinded by Patrick’s history and his own feelings). So Patrick sees the manipulation for what it is.

(The fond look in his eye when Art isn’t looking. That man is in love your honor!!!!!)

Patrick knows Art was trying to manipulate him. He knows it and he likes it, encourages it even. He looks at him like he’s proud of Art. The fact that it mattered more to him that Art was actually being vocal about his own wants instead of repressing as he always did, even if it was through breaking him and his girlfriend up. He didn’t even see it as a threat because it never occurs to him that he could lose Tashi to Art (or vice versa) because at this point, he’s secure in his place within the triangle. But also reveals how insecure Art feels within that same triangle because of his perceived isolation.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 15: What Do You Know About Love?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter fifteen of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 6.5K (I got carried away again)

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing, Angst, Crying,  Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC, Soldier Boy is really all you need as a warning.

Note: This is told from the Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

**************************************

Present Day *Reader POV*

The shopping bags that hung from your arms would have been heavy for the average person, but for you it seemed like a bag full of pillows. It was the day after you saw Rosemary and said goodbye. Despite the almost excruciating hangover you had this morning, because it'd been almost forty years since you last had a drink, you dragged yourself to the mall to try and find outfits for your trip to Russia. You were satisfied with the few outfits you found, but you were worried because the plane left in a few hours and you were no where near ready.

Mentally or physically.

As much as you wanted to go help Ben, you still were apprehensive about the whole situation, not just about going in blind, but wondering what the hell you were going to do when you saw Ben. You wanted to hold on to your anger, but you were afraid that the moment you looked into his green eyes you would forgive him.

I am not going to forgive him. I'm going to break him out then tell him to fuck off and I never have to see him ever again.

Despite your apprehension, you knew that you had to do this, that you had to go help him even if you still hated him because you couldn't bear the thought of the boy you grew up with being tortured over there all alone. It was the alone part that hurt the most. You knew how much Ben hated being alone. He never had to say it out loud, but all the time you'd spent together in your bedroom before and after the injection spoke volumes.

Of course you still had no idea where you were going, but figured that if you went to the Kremlin you could get some answers, which meant you'd either have to lie your way in or just kill anyone in your path. Which would be messy, but necessary. You try to shake off the guilt of exposing yourself again and what that could mean for Rosemary and Lou. You made sure that Rosemary knew to pack a bag for herself and for Lou and told her to wait for your call.

You wanted to be there to escort them out of the city, didn't want to split up and have them get snagged while you were waiting for them at the rendezvous point, so you told Rosemary to take a few days off and lay low.

When you get to the outside door of your apartment building toting the bags, you notice that it's been broken, as if someone tried to pull it off its hinges.

Well that's great. Hopefully the building manager noticed that.

Your mind drifts back to Ben as you step into the elevator.

What if he isn't alive when I get there? It was an unwelcome thought, but it meant that you wouldn't have to talk to him.

 Maybe if I knock him out when I get there and just leave him in a Russian motel somewhere, I won't have to talk to him. You pause. Will he want to talk to me? 

The memory of the last time you spoke flashes through your mind bringing an unmeasurable amount of rage and heartbreak back over your body. The dam you built to keep out everything that happened was reaching capacity, especially given the recent events with Countess, and you knew that the moment you saw Ben it was going to burst open. You hoped that you'd be able to keep it together long enough to get out of the lab or wherever the hell he was being held, before you lost it. But it was doubtful.

As you walk down the hallway to you apartment, you notice that your front door is open and you stop walking. Apprehension spikes at the back of your mind as you examine the door. The lock is broken and  door is cracked just enough for you to hear people talking inside in hushed tones. You creep forward and look through the crack.

You've got to be kidding me. You groan to yourself noticing Butcher and Hughie standing in your living room.

Great. Just what I need. Right when I'm going to leave they show up. Guess that explains the mystery of the broken door downstairs.

You think about walking away, of going back down the elevator and hoping that by the time you come back they would be gone, but you knew you had to face them and you still had to pack. So you push open the front door of your apartment and step into the room.

"You know when I called saying that I had something else to say about Soldier Boy, I assumed you would call, not break into my apartment." You sigh before moving to the right side of the counter that divides the room between the living room and the kitchen and depositing the shopping bags on the stainless steel top.

"Maybe you shouldn’t leave your apartment unlocked poppet. Anyone could walk in." Butcher replies with a grin.

"Hmm. Sure. You guys here for more coffee?"

"Go shopping did you?" Butcher ignores your snark eyeing the bags.

"Yeah I needed a few new outfits for my art show next month." The lie is easy, but you know that the sudden appearance of the two of them probably meant you were caught red handed. Of course now with everything that happened with Countess, you didn't care anymore if Butcher and Hughie knew who you really were. "You doing okay there Hughie?" You raise an eyebrow as you notice how his heartbeat has spiked since you entered the apartment.

"Good." He says, but he looks uneasy.

Well, guess he's afraid of me now.

"Huh. And here I thought you were replacing your jacket." Butcher throws your ruined jacket onto the floor between you.

You look from the jacket to Butcher. You hadn't bought a replacement and hadn't wanted to throw it out. You were still hoping that the scorch marks looked like you had "distressed" it. It didn't and you knew that, but you loved that coat so much.

"See, I think it’s a big coincidence that Countess got right fucked after we came and talked to you." Butcher smiles.

"Probably the same coincidence as Gunpowder dying before you showed up here the first time." You breeze with a tight-lipped smile.

Where was he going with this? Was he here to kill me? You think about what Legend said about Butcher killing supes.

"That looks bad." Butcher gestures to the jacket. "You have a little spat with your good friend?”

"Let's just say she said a few things that upset me." Your eyes skate from Butcher to Hughie sizing them up. "If you're here to kill me, you're welcome to try. Oh sorry,  'arrest me'." You make air quotes around the words. "But we both know you're not government agents, you reek of Compound V and the last time I checked there was that whole, no supes in the government thing."

"Wouldn't it have been easier to get this out of the way the first time?" Hughie asks.

"I didn't want to be involved." You shrug your shoulders.

"Then why you'd buy a plane ticket to Russia?" Butcher takes a step towards you, but you hold your ground.

You weren't afraid of him.

"I hear it's nice this time of year. Not too hot, not too cold. Very pleasant." You snap back at him eyes narrowed, before you look down at the antique watch on your wrist. "Look I'd love to have a heart to heart, but I just don't have time to do this little dance with you. So we can either get to the part where you try to kill me or-" You raise your gaze from the watch to glare back at Butcher, but then your eyes focus on the hallway behind him and your heart stops.

Ben is standing there in the shadows looking at you the same way he always has, with those wonderful piercing green eyes that makes all other memories of them be put to shame. He's dressed in modern clothes, wearing a dark green shirt that hugs his perfect muscular chest and is the same color of his suit, your favorite color and the one you can never look at without thinking of him because damn it, it's also the color of his eyes. He looks the same, but different. His hair is longer and darker than it was the last time you saw him and his cheeks are covered by a trimmed but thick beard. It was unusual given that you'd never seen him with more than just a little bit of stubble and annoying because it makes him look even more ruggedly handsome, but despite the piercing way his eyes follow you, you can see a haunting memory of the last forty years.

You're upset that the one of the first thoughts you'd had beside staring at him open mouthed is that you wished you were wearing something more flattering than one of your pairs of paint splattered overalls over an old band t-shirt. You were going to Russia to get him and yes maybe you were shopping for things that you could move in, but you had picked out a particular revenge outfit that you believed would make Ben regret everything he did to you and also might have been paired with a particularly badass set of boots that made your legs look very long. The outfit that made you feel beautiful and sexy was unlike the one you were wearing at the moment. Also because you hadn't brushed your hair today and had just stuck it up in a messy bun at the back of your head.

You're struck with the urge to run to him and kill him at the same time, but you can't move and you can’t think.

Apart of you believed that you would find him dead in Russia, a sad thought but it meant that you wouldn't have to relive everything all over again. Everything that went to shit the last 24 hours you spent together that you relived with Countess the other day and now you were reliving when you looked at him standing there looking better than he should.

Because damn it, only Ben could be tortured in a lab for the past 40 years and walk away looking like a GQ model. I've never hated anyone more.

"Ben?" Your voice is no more than a hoarse whisper.

Ben pushes past Hughie and Butcher, taking careful steps towards you like he doesn't want to scare you away. "Y/n." The sound of your name on his lips fills you with an inescapable amount of warmth.

Traitor. You think to yourself at your body’s reaction.

He's standing so close to you now that you can smell the same shampoo and aftershave he always used and it brings back memories of the nights he spent in your bed with you laughing and talking like nothing had changed making you feel alive again for the first time in forty years. Before everything went into the blender set to puree.

Ben's eyes trace your body like he can't believe you're standing in front of him making you wish again that you're wearing the outfit you picked out so that you could look as good as he does. And just as he raises his hand towards your face you remember why you hated him, remember that night, remember what Countess said that caused her to lose her head.

Your hand flashes out so quick you don't think Ben notices it until it lands with a resounding slap against his cheek that sends him reeling back from you. Your strengths were similar, almost identical, and if he hadn't been invulnerable it would have ripped his perfect jaw from his face.

"What the fuck was that for?" Ben snaps, green eyes blazing as he looks back at you.

"You've got some nerve coming back here after all these years." You spit, the anger rising in your chest with wings of fury that beat against your ribcage. "Did you really think that you could just say my name again and make me forget everything that happened Benjamin? I am not one of those trashy women that you used to fuck and the fact that you think you can show up here, give me the fucking puppy dog eyes, and think that I’ll swoon, is ridiculous!”

There goes the dam.

Your gaze levels on Hughie and Butcher who look just as stunned. "And you two. Why did you bring him here? I didn’t want any part of this!”

"Why did you pretend to be dead!" Hughie shouts back.

"Did you think that maybe that was me trying to tell you that I didn't want to be involved? Or are you two just that fucking stupid?"

"Why did you buy a plane ticket then?" Butcher asks again, raising an eyebrow.

Ben is watching you with anger burning in his eyes. It's difficult for you to look at him. Every time you do you think about your last night together, the morning after when he pushed you away, and finally the night where he ripped out your heart and stomped all over it.

How did I ever think I could look at him again when I got him out of Russia?

"Because even though I hate him. He doesn't deserve that. The Ben I knew would have come to get me, and I wasn't going to leave him to rot in some fucking Russian prison." You snap back. "Now get out of my apartment."

"Sweetheart-" Ben begins to say.

"No. No. No. I don't want to hear it from you. Nothing you can say can make this better. I’m glad you’re free or whatever, but go. Get out." You push past him, but Ben's hand flashes out and grabs your wrist with enough force that you feel the bruising of your skin.

"No." He towers over you.

"Let. Me. Go." Your eyes narrow shifting to bright purple. The entire room begins to tremble, the glass windows shake in their panes and the glass jars full of paint brushes on your studio table begin to clink against one another. But he doesn't remove his hand.

"Not until you listen." Ben's own green eyes have hardened into a emerald.

You latch onto the wrist that is holding you and break his grip, before spinning and throwing him backward across the room away from you. Ben's body flies past Hughie and Butcher who watch with wide eyes as he hits the back of the couch and pinwheels over it with a loud thud as he lands on the cushions. You would have rather thrown him into the brick living room wall, but you restrained yourself.

"I don't want to hear anything you have to say Benjamin. You said enough that night and apparently you were saying lots of things to Countess about me. So get out." Your eyes skate across Butcher and Hughie. "All of you."

Hughie is still watching you with wide eyes, like he can't believe that just happened.

Join the club kid.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Ben shouts, standing from the couch and straightening his clothes. You don't need to be a psychic to know how angry he is. In fact, you're surprised he's not throwing you out the window or at least throwing a punch. Ben didn't tolerate it when anyone put him in his place and it definitely looks like it's taking him an extreme amount of effort not to attack you, given the way his hands are clenched into fists and the way his jaw is tensed so tightly you can see the muscle flexing.

"She told me what you said about me. That you threw me a pity fuck because you felt sorry for me, that you were bored when we had sex because I was so inexperienced."

"It's not true."

"Isn’t it?" You're trying desperately not to cry, but the angry tears have already begun to well up in your eyes. "The last thing you sad to me was that I was pathetic and that you never would love me, never could love me. That you fucked me because you felt bad for me and you wished I would just fuck off. That I was just another warm pussy and that I meant nothing to you. So forgive me for not believing you."

"Oh shit." Butcher mutters under his breath.

"Damn." Hughie echoes.

"I know what I said to you, Y/n. I've spent the past 40 years regretting it-" Ben begins to say, but you interrupt him.

"Oh I'm so sure. The Great Soldier Boy actually has a conscience, let me just alert the media." You spit back. "Oh wait, sorry you wouldn't want that getting out would you Ben? Because that would mean you aren't a man."

"Y/n-" He growls.

"You don't get to come in here and apologize and act like you did nothing wrong. You're not here because you feel sorry, you're here because you want me to dote on you, to follow you around and give a shit like I did for 40 fucking years.”

“Y/n-“

"Stop saying my name like that!" You shout and the glass sugar dish on the counter flies off the counter and smashes into the floor sending shards of glass everywhere.

Hughie flinches.

"Like what?" Ben exclaims.

"Like you care." You cross your arms over your chest staring him down because you don't want to keep crying.

"I do fucking care about you-" Ben snaps running his hand through his dark hair frustrated.

"No you don't. You never did. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

"Yes I do."

"Please stop talking."

"What else do you want me to say?" Ben shouts back, moving towards you. "I'm trying to fucking apologize-"

"I don't want you to say anything and I don't want to hear your half-assed apology! I want you to leave. You and your creepy friends." You gesture back to where Hughie and Butcher are watching with open mouths, who are unsure if they should leave or watch the show.

"They're not my friends."

"And neither am I! Which means I don’t have to listen to anything you have to say!”

"Y/n please-" His teeth are gritted together.

“I'm not some fangirl Ben. I was your friend, your friend before any of this. Before any of this fucking supe shit. I cared about you. I had been in love with you since I was 8. I had taken care of you since the night we met." More tears squeeze down your cheeks as a lifetime of happy memories before everything went down the drain wash over you. The wonderful times you'd shared together at the park, in your bedroom back in Philadelphia, dancing in the dancehall,  at baseball games and Ben walking you home all the while you wobbled down the street drunkenly and sang off key. All the blissful little moments that you thought maybe he felt the same way about you and then followed by the moments you spent together the night of your birthday, when you felt more special and loved than you'd ever had. It makes the knife he stuck in your back even sharper. 

"That night we spent together meant everything to me. I thought it was special and I thought you loved me. But you don't. You just fucked me because you were bored and you found the first person who said yes.” Your body turns away, but he grabs you by the shoulders to make you look at him.

"I do love you damnit!" He shouts. "I didn't want to-" Ben's jaw clenches in frustration, looking back at Butcher and Hughie. "Can you two just fuck off?"

"I wish you all would." You say, trying to loosen his grip on your shoulders, but he doesn't let go. You think about throwing him across the room again, because it made you feel a lot better.

"Fine. We'll be outside." Butcher says tugging Hughie away.

"Are you sure?" Hughie asks looking from you to Ben as if he's worried to leave the two of you alone.

"You want to be here? Because they're either going to kill each other or start fucking." Butcher responds.

"We are not going to start-" You begin, but they're already out the front door of your apartment leaving you alone with Ben, who is still holding on to your shoulders.

"Please listen to me." Ben says looking deep into your eyes. "When you said that you loved me it-" He stops looking for the right word as if he can't say the next ones that come out of his mouth. "Oh fuck it, it fucking scared me. Okay?  It scared me, Y/n, and damnit I'm not a pussy! I'm not afraid of anything!"

“Oh no you could never be a pussy could you? Soldier Boy could never admit that he had real feelings for someone.” Your voice wobbles, tears trailing down your cheeks as you poke him in the chest to emphasize every word. “And now you’re just saying what I want to hear, because you want to have another quick fuck!” You push your hands against his chest trying to push him off of you, but he won't let go. "You're just saying it because its been forty years since you had sex and you thought, huh might as well find the most pathetic person I know, Y/n won't say no if I pretend to be everything she wanted again."

He doesn't mean it. He doesn't love me.

"I’m not lying to you! And I’m not pretending! I wasn't pretending that night either!” Ben roars so loudly you flinch. “That night I felt things with you that I had never felt with anyone else. It wasn't cheap sex or a quick fuck-" His jaw tightens as if he's embarrassed to admit it. "Damn it.” His teeth are gritted together. “We made love. I understood that when I woke up the next morning and I was happy to be there with you. I knew that I loved you and I wanted to tell you, but I fucked it all up instead. I fucked Countess because I was scared of what loving you meant. But I’m ready now, I’m not scared anymore. I love you!”

He's saying everything you always wanted him to, but you're scared. Scared that he's just saying it, that he thinks it's what you want to hear and this is the only way that he can get you back into his life because he needs someone to follow him around, because he can't be alone.

You stand there for a minute taking in his stance. His head is slightly bowed in shame, shoulders tight, body leaning towards you. But then you catch his eye, you see the sorrow, frustration, and pain in his gaze. Ben was not big on sharing feelings and for him to admit all of these things aloud was shocking enough without the obvious emotions flashing in his eyes. It was so different than the stoic or pissed off attitude he usually had when he was Soldier Boy. The look in his eyes is so earnest and Ben has never been a good liar, not to you anyway. You always knew what he was thinking.

If I forgive him then what does that mean? I forget the past 40 years like they never happened? I forget all the tears when he broke my heart? Forget how broken I was? How broken I still am?

You think of all the times you missed him, all the times you forgot about what he said to you and remembered the good, all the times you wanted him there with you and Rosemary because you knew he would love to be there. All the early memories together, all the missions, everything that lead up to the falling out and Ben’s supposed death. Ben's admission of guilt and his confession of love for you was shocking. Especially because the Ben you knew 40 years ago would have rather dropped dead than say the words "make love."

No. I won't give in. I can't do this, I can't do this all over again. I was better, I was moving on, he doesn't have the right to come here and mess up my life all over again.

"No." You shout, shoving him away with all your strength. Ben stumbles backward, his eyes wide as if he wasn't expecting you to push him away, because of course he wasn't. “You don’t know anything about love. You’re just saying that because you know it’s what I want to hear, what I’ve always wanted you to say to me.”

He still doesn't understand how much he hurt me. And he doesn't deserve my forgiveness.

“I’m not just saying that, it’s true. Please y/n-“

"I don't believe you. And when I said I never wanted to see you ever again I wasn't lying. So get out Ben!" You shout.

"No. I love you and I'm not leaving." Ben says back determined.

You weren't prepared for what those words did to you. You weren't prepared for the floodgate of emotions that exploded the moment those words passed through his lips or the way it felt like you were being tugged in two different directions. Because despite wanting to throw him across the room again, those three little words made you want to run into his arms and hold him close, made you want him to take you to bed and make you forget all the shitty things that happened forty years ago, make it like he never left.

But you couldn't do it. As much as you wanted to forgive him, you couldn't because you didn't trust him anymore, you didn't trust that he could give you what you wanted.

“Too bad! I won’t do this to myself again. All I did was care about you, help you. I stood by you and made excuses for the person you became and I held on to this picture of the boy you used to be. The one I fell in love with. The one that used to climb in my window when things were hard. The one that took me to my first baseball game. The one who danced with me. The one that made me feel like less of a freak because he understood me. And the one that begged me to leave Howard and everything I knew and come with him. That night we were together I saw that boy again.  I loved that boy. I would have done anything for him and I did. But he’s not here anymore. And I hate myself for holding on to him as long as I did.”

"But I told you I loved you!" Ben exclaims.

“Just saying that isn’t enough, not after everything that happened!” You shout. "You're forty years too late Benjamin. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m exhausted and I’m going to go to bed. And I don’t want you to be here when I wake up.”

"Y/n please-" You hate how he sounds when he says it, like he's broken, because Ben has never once sounded that way in all the years you'd known him. You hate how he looks. How his dark hair is falling forward into his face and he looks so much like the boy you used to love that it makes you want to scream, because you wanted to believe that he was gone, but all you see when you look up at him is that boy. There is not one shred of Soldier Boy in the way he looks right now and you hate that. You hate that you wanted to forgive him, that all it took was him looking like at you like that. But you still can't do it.

"Just go." Your throat thickening as you say it, fresh tears trailing down your cheeks. "I don't want you here. I never want you to come here ever. I never want to see you again.” You lie pushing past him and walk down the dark hallway, slamming and locking your bedroom door behind you. Your body sinks to the floor as you pull your knees up into your chest, sobs shaking your body and tears pour from your eyes.

How many tears can I spend on one man? How do I still have any left after all these years? How could I have been stupid to think that I was over him? That I could just go to Russia, break him out, and then push him out of my life so easily? None of what just happened was easy.

Your face presses into your knees. You want to call Rosemary, call her and tell her what happened, but your phone is still on the counter and you couldn't go back out there, because you knew he was still there. Standing in your living room looking too perfect after all these years and saying all the things you always wanted him to and you don’t want to go out there and forgive him.

So you stay. Your back pressed against the door, crying into your knees and hoping that this will just all end.

Because it’s got to one day right?

***************************************************

*Soldier Boy POV*

He hadn't meant to reach for you, but all he wanted was to feel the gentle swell of your cheek beneath the palm of his hand, the smoothness of your skin against his rough fingertips, and to memorize the planes of your face with his touch. You were even more beautiful than he remembered. Your curves perfectly accentuated by a pair of cute paint splattered overalls that made him smile, and your hair pulled away from your face in a messy bun but still made you look effortless and striking. When he saw you standing there, it was like taking a punch to the gut. He knew that he missed you, but seeing you there warm and alive made him want to crush you against his chest and never let you go ever again.

He had laid himself bare before you, allowing himself to push through the urge  to shove all his emotions back beneath the surface as his father taught him, and spoke, instead, the words he wished that he had said all those years ago.

Ben's shoulders tense when he thinks of what you shouted back at him, how broken you looked. His heart falls into the pit of his stomach when he remembers the tears in your eyes. Ben hated it when you cried. He also hated that the first time he saw you in forty years he made you cry, again.

He didn't know how to fix this. Ben thought that his apology would be enough to make you at least try to forgive him, but it hadn't. You had shoved him away from you, refused to let him touch you or comfort you-

Why is she so damn stubborn? I apologized! I told her that I loved her! Isn’t that what she wanted?

He grits his teeth together thinking about how you threw him across the room like he weighed nothing. If anyone else had done that to him, Ben would have killed them, but he knew that he deserved it. He knew you would be mad, but he thought that you would at least want to hear everything he had to say instead of cursing him out and slamming the door in his face.

When you slammed your door behind you, he had stood outside of it for an hour listening to you cry, heard your soft muffled sobs. At one point he leaned his head against the door and wished you would let him in so he could hold you while you cried, even though the thought made him feel like a pussy. He wanted to comfort you. He wished you had forgiven him, allowed him to take you to bed, allowed him to show you how sorry he was and how much he loved you. He wished that you let him help you forget the last shitty forty years that you spent without him, forget what he said and what he did to you that night. 

The harsh words you yelled at him make him flinch, when you told him that you didn't want him there and never wanted him to come back. They were the words that he always feared you would say to him when he climbed in through your window at night or when he showed up at your apartment when you were still on Payback. And hearing you say those words felt worse than anything those Russian fucks did to him. Because Ben didn't know where he belonged if he wasn't with you, he didn't know what to do if you weren't in his life, you were the only thing that mattered.

How could I fuck this up this much?

Ben looks back at the clock on the wall in the kitchen which shows he'd been there for three hours waiting for you to come out of your room, but you hadn't. He knew it was because you fell asleep, he could hear your heart beat, your soft breath against the pillows, and the almost silent sounds you made when you slept. They were exactly the same as when he would fall asleep next to you and damn it he didn't realize how much he missed them until this exact moment.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How do I fucking fix this?

Ben stands from the couch and walks down the hallway for the millionth time to stand outside your door preparing to knock, but he didn't know what to say. He thought that he'd said enough, but judging by your reaction he hadn't.

The thought of saying anything else was difficult for him to swallow. It was hard enough to say what he had to you, but he was realizing he was going to have to delve even deeper to make you even look at him again or want to be around him. 

Finally he goes to the front door of your apartment before he looks back down the hallway. He didn't want to leave, didn't want you to wake up and him not be there despite what you said about wanting him to leave. He wanted you to understand that he wasn't going anywhere and that he was never going to leave you ever again no matter how hard you tried to push him away. But he needed to leave now, not for long, just long enough for him to get what he needed.

He had seen the florist shop on the corner when Butcher drove up. As Ben walked down the street in the direction of the florist he remembered the conversation he had with Butcher after you slammed your door in his face. Convincing Butcher to let him remain in the apartment was difficult, but finally when Ben threatened to rip Hughie in half, Butcher relented stating that he would give Ben one night with you before he came back. That was the deal anyway, Ben had lied, because like hell he was going to leave now that he'd found you again.

Ben wasn't planning on leaving and  even if you couldn't stand to look at him, Ben would not go. Even if it meant sleeping on that shitty couch every night.

He would never leave you again.

The smell of the flowers wafted out of the small shop when Ben opens the door, his eyes skating across the numerous bouquets, each one more extravagant than the last. Other women would swoon over them, but not you. His eyes fall first on roses, but he turns away. He knew that you didn’t like roses, although many believed them to be classic, Ben knew that you thought over the years that roses had become generic and overused. He of course had sent some to numerous women over the years, but he liked that you were different. He always liked that about you. He rolls his eyes when he remembered when Howard bought you some every week.

Because of course that asshole didn’t know what y/n liked. No one knows her as well as me.

The man behind the counter eyes him when he walks in. "Can I help you find something sir?"

"No." Ben says gruffy looking at the displays again, but then he sighs. "Do you have any lavender?"

"Lavender?"

"Yeah." Ben knew it was the only thing that you would accept, knew that it was your favorite because it reminded you of the house your family rented over the summers up North. Ben hated those summers. He'd break into your bedroom and sleep in your bed while thinking of you and reading the letters you sent him over and over again, the ones that you pressed fresh lavender into and the ones that made him realize just how much he needed you.

Those of course weren’t the only letters you ever sent him. When he went to boarding school he’d wait for you to send him a letter and one of your doodles or a small painting. He kept every one in a cigar box under his bed. It was why he was kicked out of boarding school number nine, a fight he had with another student began because the student had found the box and then proceeded to mock Ben endlessly by passing around the letters you sent him. Ben had never told you what the fight was about.

Ben stops as he realizes how he’s going to get you to listen to him.

“Here you are sir.” The florist reappears at the counter holding a large vase of freshly cut lavender.

“Do you have a phone I can borrow?” Ben asks.

“Sure.”

The object the man hands him is not a phone, well not a phone that Ben’s ever seen before.

“I said a phone-“

“That is a phone?” The man looks confused.

“How do I fucking call someone with this?” Ben sighs shaking the black rectangle in his hand and looking for the buttons.

The man takes the object and swipes his fingers across it before handing it back to him so Ben can see the numbers to dial. “Just push what you want and hit the green button.” The man says, looking at Ben like he's crazy.

“Oh. Thanks.” He mutters, before dialing the number and holding the phone up to his ear.

Legend answers on the first ring.

“Hey it’s me. Do you still have all my old shit from my apartment?”

“Somewhere.”

“I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”

******************************************

N/A: Why not end on a cliffhanger? This chapter is a bit longer, because this week is CRAZY for me and I'm not sure when I'll be able to write the next chapter. But I'm not giving up on these two. They deserve the world.

Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you guys think. If you'd like to be added to my taglist, please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303 @deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs @bughill126 @simplyfixated @sleepjam @tiredstrangerr @freefallthoughts @onlyangel-444 @lov3vivian @mxltifxnd0m @mayafatimakhan @marvel-mistress @my-obsession-spn @lifeonawhim @soldirboy @liuope @brynanna @abramswife @xxannyxx @babyinatrench-coat1 @the-gentle-spirit

[darkjimxn]

Chapter 5: Dodgeball

Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses

A/N: Exams are finally over, so here's an update. Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @florabloomgirly @shawtylilsalty

Your gaze stayed fixed on the man before you, hunched over as he cradled his bruised jaw with one hand. Was this what Principal Park had meant when he had said the Academy wasn’t entirely safe? You had assumed that he had been referring to secret abductions in the middle of the night or underlying schemes being formulated in the shadows. 

Not outright attacks being done in the centre of the main hall while the morning’s sunlight still shone brightly. 

You paused as the sound of expensive dress shoes striking against the marble floor echoed around the hall, each step slow and confident to reveal someone entering through the same doors the guy a few metres away from you had stumbled through just a few seconds earlier. 

You would have ignored whoever it was and walked over to the guy still crouched on the floor, but at the last second your gaze caught onto a few strands of dark purple, causing your head to snap towards him in shock.

Jimin’s brother paused at the doorway, scanning the main hall nonchalantly with those familiar occult red eyes. Even without the dimly lit atmosphere and dark shadows he seemed just as menacing as he had last night. The only difference was that now you could just barely pick up on an underlying anger lurking behind the nonchalant facade. 

His gaze flickered to you for a moment, taking in your standing form beside the Tree of Life, before it ultimately fell on the guy on the floor. 

At the sight of Jimin’s brother the guy pushed himself off the ground quickly with wide eyes and hands hovering upwards in a sign of surrender. 

Wait… was he the one that was doing this?

As if to answer your question, Jimin’s brother walked over to him and grabbed his collar with a gloved hand, dragging him with it until he slammed him against the nearest wall. 

The main hall began to fill with students from the dining hall, all of whom seemed curious, and clearly entertained, by the current state of events. They all made sure to give the two a wide area of space though, evidently making sure they wouldn’t get involved. 

Typical. 

You didn’t know if you wanted to get involved either. There was that feeling back in your chest, the one of elation whenever you watched men fight each other; whenever they decided to inflict pain on their own rather than on you. You knew it was wrong to feel that way, your hate didn’t blind you that much, but you still couldn’t seem to help yourself.

Come on, don’t be a monster Y/N, you thought with a sigh. 

You forced yourself to take a step towards the two, opening your mouth to reluctantly stop whatever was going on, but then paused as you suddenly recognised who Jimin’s brother had pinned to the wall. 

Wasn’t that the guy that had bullied Seokjin yesterday? What was his name… Jihoon?

“Look man,” Jihoon said, hands still up in surrender as Jimin’s brother held his collar, “I don’t understand what I did! Please just let me go, I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Oh?” Jimin’s brother grinned, a devilish glint in his eyes that did not match his calm tone, “not so tough now, are we?”

His gaze dropped to the bruise on Jihoon’s jaw, which was now turning an ugly shade of purple, “that’s disappointing, I was expecting a good fight.”

You watched Jihoon cower a bit when his gaze raised to meet his once again, “you want me to leave you alone?”

“Y-yes,” Jihoon answered, so quickly that you almost felt bad for him. Jimin’s brother nodded slowly, clearly relishing in his fear.

“Okay, but only on one condition.”

Jimin’s brother leaned forward to whisper something in his ear, but to your surprise, Jihoon seemed to freak out at the action. His head immediately jerked backwards, causing it to hit against the wall behind him roughly. A pained groan escaped his lips. 

You narrowed your gaze at the excessive reaction. You knew Jihoon was a coward the second you had caught him preying on Seokjin, but still… Jimin’s brother had only leaned forward. Was Jihoon really that scared of him?

Jimin’s brother ignored the reaction, waiting for him to stop groaning over his head, before he leaned forward once again and whispered something near his ear. You felt everyone strain their ears to try and listen to his words, but they were spoken much too low for anyone, including you, to hear. 

His words elicited another reaction from Jihoon, but this time it was more of a shocked response than a frightened one. 

“You what?!” He said incredulously, his hands dropping to his sides.

But one withering glare from Jimin’s brother suddenly had him nodding instantly, “wait- okay! Okay, I swear!”

“Great,” Jimin’s brother grinned with fake amusement for a moment before it dropped.

“Now get lost.”

Jihoon scrambled away from him the second he was freed, half running through the front doors of the academy. It was almost comical the way Hannah, the blonde foreigner that had been with him yesterday, ran after him while calling his name. The two definitely made for an interesting pair, you’ll give them that much. 

You looked back at Jimin’s brother, only to find him already walking out of the hall without another word. His expression was far from the amused cocky bastard from last night, this time filled with hidden rage that you questioned. You distantly wondered what Jihoon could have possibly done to make him so angry. 

“Cheonsa,” a voice behind you stated suddenly.

You turned around to find an unfamiliar girl standing next to you, dressed in the same Elitist Academy uniform as your own. Similar to Hannah she was also a foreigner, but her dark brown hair was pulled into short braids under her maroon cap while her light brown skin stood out against her cream-coloured collar. 

“Sorry, what?” You asked, unsure of what she had just said.

While the students that had stayed to watch the spectacle began making their way to their classes, she just continued to stand beside you and stare at the door in which Jimin’s brother had disappeared behind, “the guy that just practically beat up Jihoon, his name is Park Cheonsa.”

“Cheonsa?” You repeated, tilting your head slightly, “that’s an… odd name.”

The word itself translated to ‘angel,’ but you’d never actually heard anyone use it as a name before. The irony of someone like him being named angel was also not lost on you. 

“He’s the principal’s son, which is why he can get away with acting out like that. I’d be careful around him if I were you.”

You almost snorted, but held yourself back at the last minute so that you didn’t come off as rude. Everyone in this academy had rich parents that allowed them to act however they wanted, it was practically a requirement in order to get into the school. 

Still, it was sweet of her to give you a warning anyway.

You gave her a smile, “thanks for the warning… I guess. What’s your name?”

“Oh right!” She breathed with an embarrassed smile, “I almost forgot, I’m Amelia!”

“Y/N,” you offered, “it’s nice to meet you, Amelia.”

“It’s nice to meet you too Y/N, you’re really nice,” she said, then added shyly, “it’s been kind of hard to find nice people in this Academy.”

You regarded her for a moment, contemplating her words. She must have been from one of the more lower class families. In a place where everyone was rich, the students treated each other based on how rich their families were. So while Amelia was far from worrying about when her next meal would be, she and the students like her were probably taking the brunt of the bullying in this place. 

It was a sad truth, one that had you sympathising with her. 

“People can be real jerks, I totally get it,” you agreed, offering her another smile, “but if it means anything, you can always consider me a friend. Only if you’d like to, of course.”

To your surprise, Amelia frowned, “that’s very kind of you, but… if you’re seen with me, won’t they start targeting you as well? I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

You couldn’t help but smile, a light chuckle escaping your lips before you could stop yourself, “you don’t have to worry about that, I’ll be fine.”

You were sure word must have gotten out by now about who you were. Whether it was regarding your ability or the identity of your parents, either piece of information would be more than enough to protect you from any kind of bullying. 

“Besides,” you continued, giving her a dramatic frown, “I don’t even have any friends. You’re really going to let me die of loneliness?”

Amelia just laughed, shaking her head at you, “I didn’t realise your life was on the line here. In that case, how can I say no?”

With a smile, you checked the time on your phone, noticing that your class was about to start soon, “I have class right now, so I need to get going. Maybe we can meet up during break?”

“Really?” Amelia said, almost in surprise, as her expression brightened at the offer, “of course, I would love to!” 

You nodded, “great, I’ll see you later in that case.”

You started to turn around, feeling bad that you couldn’t stay and talk to her for longer since you knew being late to class wasn’t going to do your grades any favours, but was stopped when Amelia suddenly placed her hand on your shoulder at the last second, as if she had needed to work up the courage to do it. 

“Hey, listen…” She started hesitantly, “before you go, I just wanted you to know that I’ll stand up for you if people start treating you badly because of me. I’m not the type to just watch a friend suffer silently.”

You smiled at her thoughtfulness. Obviously it was too early to tell, but you had a feeling that Amelia was going to become a pretty close friend after today. Or maybe that was just something you wanted to happen and you were projecting. Either way, you had no issues with getting closer to the sweet girl standing before you. 

-

-

-

“You’re joking right?”

Namjoon stared at you incredulously, his eyes narrowing in that way that always seemed to make whoever his target was at that moment feel like they had a baseball for a brain. Hell, it used to make you feel like the dumbest person on Earth until you finally stopped letting it get to you. 

You were sitting in the same History of Magic 101 class as yesterday, except the size of the class had evidently decreased. Instead, the lecture hall was now only filled with 8 other students, male students, aside from yourself, just as Principal Park had explained. 

“The ability to control magic was completely absent during the Mesozoic era,” Namjoon continued to insist, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You sat back in your chair, mimicking his action with a raised brow, “tell that to the dinosaur bones that were recently discovered to have traces of magic in them.”

He scoffed, “humans are the only species with the ability to influence magic, so how could this ability have existed when humans didn’t?” 

Making sure to keep your gaze on Namjoon, you focused on your peripheral vision to study Ms. Kari, who was standing on the podium. To your delight, you noticed her hands placed frustratedly on her hips as she gave both you and Namjoon a look mixed with exhaustion and irritation. 

“And how do you know dinosaurs couldn’t control magic back then?” You questioned, focusing back on the man sitting a few seats away from you to goad him further, “it would explain the traces of magic found in their bones.”

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Cheonsa throw his head back in a muted groan before propping himself forward on his hands with a sigh. The rest of the class looked back and forth between the two of you, whether invested in the debate or confused by it you didn’t know. 

“The magic in their bones could have come from anywhere!” He argued, “it could have been absorbed from their surroundings or simply remnants of life magic from when they were still alive! Today’s animals lack the ability to influence magic, therefore it’s likely that the dinosaurs were the same.”

“Not necessarily,” you shot back, “perhaps dinosaurs became extinct due to their ability to influence magic while animals today survive only because they cannot? You ever heard of selective pressures, Namjoon?”

“Then what about-”

“This is the fourth time you both have broken into an argument after I asked a simple question to the class,” Ms. Kari finally spoke, interrupting Namjoon with a scowl, “I understand that you two seem to already have extensive knowledge on the class material, but these outbursts are disrupting my teaching.”

“If they don’t stop, I will have to start taking more severe action,” she threatened, making sure to look both you and Namjoon in the eye, “is that understood?”

Namjoon gave you one last look before turning to face Ms. Kari once again, “yes, Ms. Kari.”

“It won’t happen again,” you added.

But you lied.

It was definitely going to happen again. 

If Principal Park wasn’t going to switch your cohort, then you were just going to have to take matters into your own hands. See, if you were to keep causing disruptions in class, Ms. Kari would eventually have to take it up with the Principal. And since Principal Park would have to take action, but can’t kick you out of the school, he would have no other choice but to switch your class. He’d probably switch you to private tutoring, which you were no stranger to. 

All you had to do was argue with Namjoon a few times per class, which was beyond easy considering Namjoon’s unlimited ego and his constant need to prove himself right all the time. 

If everything went as planned you’d be out of here by the end of the week. 

But until then, you’d have to survive your classes the way they were at the moment. 

So you did.

The rest of the class went smoothly for the most part, aside from a couple more small arguments you started between yourself and Namjoon, until the bell rang and everyone began making their way to the next class.

You walked into the women’s dressing room, making sure to lock it before beginning to change out of your uniform. Your next class was physical education, which required you to slip into your academy-issued gym clothes. The gym uniform consisted of a white, fitted short-sleeve t-shirt that had been tailored to your exact specifications and loose red shorts that ended just below your mid-thigh. You decided to also pull on the matching red zip-up sweater, with the gold emblem printed on the lapel unlike the formal uniform, wishing that it would protect you from more than just a chilly breeze. 

You fixed your hair up into a ponytail as you walked out of the dressing room and started making your way out of the academy. The physical education class was to be held in the field in front of the school, so you stepped onto the grass reluctantly while scanning the area. 

The guys had already arrived, each of them wearing the same uniform you were while lounging around or just casually chatting with one another as they waited for the Professor to arrive. Some had opted to wear the sweater while others had chosen to discard theirs haphazardly at the edge of the field. 

You chose to stand off to the side, unable to stop yourself from sulking a bit at not having anyone to talk to. It sucked to be in a class full of men, but you reminded yourself that you just had to wait it out for one week. Then, hopefully, your plan would grant you some form of peace.

Too in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Yoongi had walked up to you until he was standing right beside you with his arms crossed over his chest. He stood for a moment, completely unnoticed by you until he suddenly spoke. 

“Stop that.”

You turned to him, gaze unintentionally falling on the black patch covering his left eye. It came as a surprise to you that he had approached you and started up a conversation considering he didn’t seem like the type to enjoy talking to others. 

“Stop what?” You replied, turning your face away to study the field once again. 

“You’re practically burning holes through everyone’s head with your glare,” he commented, “stop it, it’s annoying.”

You scoffed. What was up with this guy and always trying to tell you what to do? Maybe Jungkook was right and he really was some creep that was into that or something.

“If it bothers you so much, you can always just go away,” you said.

You could feel his gaze boring into the side of your head, making you shift uncomfortably before you turned to glare at him. He only titled his head slightly.

“You know,” he started, “Namjoon told us about your obvious hate towards our gender. Care to explain the reasoning behind such strong feelings?”

“No.”

He narrowed his eye, opening his mouth to probably prod you further, but to your relief you noticed the Professor stepping onto the field. 

He was a tall guy, maybe one of the tallest men you’d ever seen, and dressed in a dark grey tracksuit and black dress shoes. The zip of his jacket was pulled down halfway to reveal a white collared shirt and a neatly-made maroon tie. Everything about him seemed neat. His dark brown hair was trimmed and brushed tidily to the side while his gleaming black framed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose.

Without another glance towards Yoongi, you made your way towards the Professor alongside the other guys. You all formed a ring around him, waiting for him to start the class.

“This is Physical Education 101,” he said gruffly, “I’m Professor Son, but you will only refer to me as sir. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir!” You all exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but feel like you had joined the military.

“Now I know what most of your old high school Phys Ed classes must have looked like,” he said, eyeing each and every one of you, “they were seen as a break from studying, usually a period to waste time and have fun.”

“But from now on you can forget those days, because moving forward this class will take everything out of you. It will be merciless, just like the real world, so you’ll learn to suck it up, and hopefully, by the end of it, you’ll make something of yourselves.”

Mr. Son rested a hand over his hip as the other stroked his chin in thought. 

“Since today’s your first day, I’ve decided we’ll play a game of dodgeball,” he said. Then, as if a thought just occurred to him, he suddenly began to laugh, “hope you survive enough for your next class.”

There was something… scary about his laugh. While Cheonsa’s laugh had sounded like a warning, his just sounded cruel. But you were only playing dodgeball, how bad could it be?

When he finally let his laugh subside, Mr. Son waved a hand around, “now get into two teams, you’re old enough to do it on your own.”

At his words, everyone hurried to place themselves into a group as quickly as possible. Mr. Son was clearly one of the mean teachers, and no one wanted to get on the bad side of a teacher that already had it out for you. 

Since none of the guys really knew each other that well, the groups formed pretty much based on how close to each other everyone was standing. In a matter of seconds, groups of four students had formed on either side of you.

The only issue was that you had been standing mostly in the middle of the two, making you hesitate for a moment. With the groups already being equal, and you standing directly in the middle of them, you didn’t know which one you were meant to go into. But under Mr. Son’s scrutinising eye, you quickly shuffled over to the group on the right, barely paying attention to who was in that team. 

You unintentionally ended up standing next to Jungkook, who gave you a grin. He was one of the guys who had decided to discard the zip-up sweater and instead wore only the white, short-sleeve shirt with his red shorts. Under the sunlight you could make out an athletic, but toned, body, the thin material doing a poor job of hiding his prominent muscles. 

“You have a good eye, Y/N,” he said as Mr. Son turned away from the groups, “you’ve skillfully chosen the winning team, congratulations.”

Your gaze strayed from him to study the rest of the group. It was annoying that you had ended up in the same group as Namjoon, Jimin, and Yoongi, and of course Jungkook. But then again, joining the other group would have meant being teammates with Taehyung, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Cheonsa, who were equally annoying. Basically it was a lose-lose situation either way. 

To your left Hoseok, who was on the other team, snorted, but his expression was humorous, “sorry, what was that? Did you say the losing team? Because if so you’d be right.”

“In your dreams maybe,” Jungkook laughed, only for Mr. Son to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, leave the trash talking for the actual game,” he said as he brought out his wand and directed it towards the centre of the field. A neat line of dodgeballs appeared from thin air, bright red and soft-looking under the sun.

“Though we’ll see how much you’ll feel like talking soon enough. Now get in position.”

The two teams immediately separated, walking to either side of the field before crouching over the white line outlining its edge. You opted to crouch beside Jimin, who gave you a quick thumbs up before refocusing on the dodgeballs in the centre of the field. 

Even though you didn’t care much about winning a stupid game of dodgeball, you couldn’t help but study the other team anyway. Hoseok seemed the most into it as he called out suggestions to the rest of his team for reaching the dodgeballs before everyone else, while Cheonsa just rolled his eyes at the effort. Beside him Taehyung seemed just as apathetic, but he seemed to at least be a little less apparent about it. Seokjin, on the other hand, seemed like he wanted to be anywhere except here. 

The difference in attitude between Hoseok and his team was almost laughable. 

The nine of you watched Professor Son walk alongside the sidelines of the field until he paused beside the line of dodgeballs. He brought out his phone, seemingly checking something, before he faced you all once again. 

“The game begins at the sound of the whistle,” he announced, earning him a few nods. 

“Three,” he began to count, “two”

“One.”

Mr. Son suddenly brought his wand upwards, flicking his wrist so that it rounded into a circle in the air. Not even half a second later the sound of a shrill whistle cut through the silence, as clearly as if someone had blown into one right beside your ear. 

“Begin!”

[sunflowerharrington]

stwg prompt (27/4/23) - buzzed hair/shaved head

wc: 1076

🩵

Wayne hasn’t been feeling too confident in his looks, lately. Usually he doesn’t care, but when he looks at Eddie, he wishes he still had hair like that. Every so often in Hawkins a new person gets the “hair” nickname. Currently it’s Steve Harrington, Eddie’s friend — or more than a friend, Wayne’s not too sure — and it reminded him of when that used to happen in Tennessee too. When Wayne was in highschool, he was “the hair.”

He’s surprised he hasn’t died yet from the fumes of hairspray finally catching up to him, but the smoking will do that someday. All the products he used to use, all the times at school when the girls would come to him for hair techniques… All of that is gone now, and so is his hair.

A slight sob catches in his throat as he runs his fingers over what’s left of his hair. What’s left of his hair… Nothing much. It’s gray and white and barely there now. But he can’t let go of his highschool days. How the hell is he supposed to go back out into the dating scene without his long, luscious locs to help him?

He hasn’t dated since then, hasn’t had the courage or the confidence. Even when he still had his hair, he couldn’t bring himself to ask a girl out.

Some people can take up addictions to help with loss and grief, but if he were to tell anyone he’s a smoker because it helps him deal with the stress of losing his hair and not being “attractive” anymore, they’d laugh at him, make a joke out of it. There’s only so many jeers and snide comments he can take before he drives back home and cries himself to sleep.

He’s been doing that a lot lately, hoping his pillow muffles it enough so Eddie can’t hear. But Eddie can’t exactly hear anything outside of his room when he’s blasting that goddamn metal. Not that it’s bad or anything, Wayne likes it too, sometimes, but only when it’s not at an eardrum-shattering volume.

Today is the worst of it, the worst he’s felt in a long ass time about his looks. But there’s no point in buying a wig or trying to grow it out again because anyone who knows him already knows what he looks like without it. So there’s no point, and he won’t bother.

But maybe having hair might help him feel better about himself? No, it takes too long to grow out and he sure as hell knows nothing’s gonna grow on the top of his head anymore, maybe the sides, but that’ll look ridiculous.

So he doesn’t bother.

It’s only in the evening when he’s starting to feel a little better and has stopped crying. But not for long… because as he walks to the bathroom, the sound of a hair trimmer buzzes to life and someone’s laughing quietly to themselves in the bathroom.

Eddie.

It’s Eddie.

Half of his— what the fuck?

“What in the goddamn hell are you doing, son?” Wayne exclaims, watching as another few strands of Eddie’s hair fall into the sink. “Wha— Eddie! Put that damn thing down!”

Eddie does, in fact, not put that damn thing down and continues shaving. Strand after strand, his smile grows wider, and he looks at Wayne’s reflection in the mirror.

“Hair grows back,” Eddie says with a half smile. “I did it for you.”

“Why?” Wayne can't stop the tears from falling now, they gather in his lower eyelashes and drop down onto his cheeks.

“Because I want you to know that you’ve still got it. With or without hair. You’re a handsome man, and if anyone disagrees they’re obviously blind. You don’t need hair to be handsome and I don’t either.”

“You’re crazy,” Wayne says, laughing a little.

“On the contrary, I’m a genius,” Eddie says with another smile. “And I’m also doing this to help my friend, Jane. A bad man shaved her head and she hasn’t been feeling confident, says she looks ugly without hair. But she doesn’t. You look handsome without hair, she looks beautiful without hair, and Jim Hopper looks hotter than ever without hair.”

“Boy, don’t you dare tell me you’ve still got a thing for Jim.”

Eddie stays silent. Wayne frowns.

“What?” Eddie says, holding his hands up. “You gotta admit he’s hot.”

Wayne tuts. “He’s old enough to be your old man!”

“So?” Eddie smirks. “I’m legal, he’s legal…”

“He’s also married!”

Eddie gasps. “Jim and Joyce got married?! Why wasn’t I invited?!”

“I don’t think they’d want you jumping up on the tables at the reception, son,” Wayne replies, turning off the machine for him.

“I don’t— Oh… You’ve got a point.”

“I’ve got a point and no hair.”

“Me too!”

“No, I was right, you were wrong, son. I have the point.”

Eddie shrugs. “Alright, fine. You win. But he’s still ho—”

“No, not finishing this conversation,” Wayne interrupts, backing away out the door. “Be with someone your own age, like Harrington’s kid. I see the way you look at him and he looks at you—”

“And I’m not having that conversation,” Eddie replies.

Wayne snickers, starting to feel like himself again.

“No. Wayne, no. I don’t… I don’t like him like that! We’re just friends.”

“Mhm mhm.”

“Wayne!” Eddie whines. “Stop!”

“Son,” Wayne says, placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. “Just try.”

“Okay fine, I’ll only do it if you ask Claudia on a date.”

“You want Dustin to be your brother, huh?” Wayne’s smiling again, so is Eddie.

“If I ever have an argument with Steve over who Dustin’s favorite is I wanna be able to say it’s obviously me ‘cause I’m his brother,” Eddie says. “But no, that’s not the only reason. You wanna find love, right? At least try. The worst she can say is no.”

“I’ve got better things to be doing than—”

“Remember the deal? You said—”

“Alright, fine!” Wayne throws his hands up. And he wonders where Eddie gets his dramatics from… “I’ll ask her on a date.”

Eddie fist pumps the air. “I love you!” He barrels Wayne into a hug.

Wayne smiles again, and finally, he feels like maybe he can still be handsome without his hair. He’s gonna remember this day for the rest of his life, maybe even add a part about it into his wedding speech if things with Claudia go well.

[archivomeow]

i love you & it’s ruining my life.

masterlists & more | read on ao3

description; jennifer has been acting off lately and when you get the chance to confront her, you learn that she sees you as more than a friend.

warnings; curse words, some jealousy and yelling.

a/n; emily is briefly mentioned, this piece hopefully cured my writers block 🙏

word count; 719

— THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD!

It was like her eyes were burning a hole in your back. You could feel her gaze on you, Jennifer has been avoiding you for days, she was clearly upset and on edge, so you just let her be, but she wasn’t making it easy. Her continuous stares and snarky comments have been getting on your nerves, that combined with all the confusion you felt towards her at the moment resulted in anger.

Jennifer has been an amazing friend ever since you joined the team and when you felt her drift away slowly you did your best to figure out what happened, however she didn’t want to talk about it and everyone advised that you figure it out on your own, which was going nowhere. She just continued to distance herself more and more, day by day, until you were so sick of it you forced an answer out of her.

When Emily filled the two of you on what she and Reid learned, it was your only moment when the two of you were alone.

“What’s your problem, hm?” You turned to her, she stood slightly behind you, was silent the whole time you and Emily talked, not like she spoke much before that.

“I don’t have a problem, now can we get back go our job?”

You scoff at her words. “You stop talking to me, we stop hanging out and any of my efforts to save our friendship are met with… nothing… At least you could talk to the team. I don’t understand why you’re cutting away from me, but being a bitch to Emily is useless.” You sighed, unsure what to do if you’re shut down once again. How many times can you confront her, before it’s too much?

“If you have an issue with me, I’d like to know what is it.” You stood straight in front of her, looking her dead in the eyes. Her face was stoic, calm, but her eyes, her gaze showed it all. She was clearly upset.

“I don’t have an issue! Fuck…” Jennifer mumbles the last word under her breath as she runs her hand through her blonde hair.

“You want to act like friends? Alright… Friends are honest. So, what’s going on between you and Emily, huh? You got close all of a sudden, are you two like a thing now?”

Her voice is bitter. JJ could feel the rage building up inside her stomach and chest, she felt so angry and so fucking jealous.

“I- Is this what this is about? Me having other friends? For fucks sake!” You shut your eyes for a moment, it all felt like a bad dream, but it wasn’t.

“Friends? I ser the way you look at her and the way she looks at you, I’m not stupid or blind!”

You went silent, she was jealous, clearly. The Jennifer you knew was never like this, she was kindhearted and sweet and caring, not jealous and enraged like the version of her you were seeing right now, in front of you. Her words struck you, she wasn’t jealous about you and Emily being friends, she was jealous, because she thought there was more between you and Emily. She just stared back at you, her eyes mad, as she slowly realised how crystal clear she made it what exactly bothered her, she didn’t want Emily falling for you or you liking her back.

“Jennifer…” Your voice was now more steady and calm, you carefully looked her up and down, trying to figure out how upset she still was. You approached her slowly, she rose hands slowly as you tried to hug her, but she broke quickly, her mask shattered with one simple hug and she wrapped her arms around you as well.

Her heart was going crazy against your chest, you could feel it pounding and you could feel her breath against your neck, it was still uneasy.

As the two of you pulled away and your eyes met hers, her beautiful ocean blue eyes, you just thought one thing to yourself; “fuck it”.

So you grabbed her face gently and locked your lips with hers, you could feel her strawberry lips balm and her hand on your hip.

It was unethical, but that didn’t matter now, not to you or her.

[tgmsunmontue]

Where do I know you from? 3/?

Hangster crackfic. There are too many Jakes and Bradleys for Jake and Bradley to be dealing with. Or the Universe is just as fed up with them being blind.

PART ONE PART TWO

PART THREE

                Rooster Nine arrives in chef whites, which he guesses answers the question of what he does for a job, although he’s getting asked a whole raft of questions by Three and Five.

                “What are you two writing down?”

                “Well, every Bradley here has a Jake in their Universe. I think we’re meant to find you yours.”

                “We don’t need to find him. I know where he is.”

                “You’ve met him already?”

                Jake stares at them both.

                “Considering you’re both meant to be super smart, you’re thick as bricks. I recognized you all,” Jake says, waving his hand at the accumulating Roosters, who seem to be arriving at an even faster rate. “Of course I’ve met him. I’ve saved his life. We see each other nearly every day.”

                Rooster Three and Five exchange looks.

                “And you’re not together with him?” Rooster Five asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow and of course he looks exactly like Rooster, but it’s not him and Jake scowls.

                “I think I’d know,” Jake snaps.

                “Maybe that’s why we’re here. To get them together. Me and my Jake had to swap bodies before we figured our shit out.”

                “It’s as good a theory as any,” Rooster Three concedes and Jake pulls a face.

                “I don’t need alternate versions of my… work colleague, trying to hook me up with him,” Jake says, and then wonders if that even made sense.

                “Bob would probably know.”

                Jake is about to ask why Bob would have any idea about this kind of thing but the door is swinging open and he knows it’s going to be yet another Rooster.

                “Oh wow… what is going on here. It’s like there’s a rip in time and space and only I can use it. This is super weird. Hey Jake…”

                The way he greets Jake and says Jake’s name is syrupy warm and a few of the other Roosters snort in amusement. Rooster Ten is stepping close and giving him a hug, brushing a kiss across his cheek and Jake pulls back.

                “What the fuck man. I don’t know you.”

                “Bet you want to though.”

                “No. Apparently his Bradley is just a work colleague.”

                Nearly every Rooster in the close vicinity scoffs and this many Bradshaw’s are really starting to get on his nerves. Rooster Ten rests his hands on his shoulders, massages them and as nice as it might feel Jake is not having it.

                “Get your hands off me.”

                Immediately Rooster Ten is backing away, hands up in easy supplication, although his eyebrow is quirked in that same challenging way Rooster has and he has to resist the urge to punch it off and he needs to calm down and deescalate the situation. He grits his teeth.

                “Surely your Jake wouldn’t want you, uh, touching another Jake.”

                “Oh, I know for a fact that he’d be more than okay with this. We have discussed this fantasy in detail.”

                Jake doesn’t even know how to begin addressing that, just turns toward Three and Five, because despite their nerding-out over the science they haven’t tried to hit on him. Other then Three giving him a wink, which compared to the other shit happening is completely benign. Still, Rooster Ten doesn’t seem too put-off, settles in the chair next to Jake and just watches, accepts the beer from Rooster Six.

                Rooster Ten went to USNA. He’s the first Rooster here who went to USNA and Jake wonders if that’s what makes him more confident. Except all of the Roosters are confident in their own ways. Of course, that’s when Rooster Eleven arrives, and he looks like he’s wearing body paint, he doesn’t have the same bulk as some of the others, but he’s still well muscled. Jake can tell under the body-paint-esque workout attire that Rooster Eleven is wearing.

                Rooster Ten reaches over and closes his jaw, dabs at the corner of Jake’s mouth with a napkin.

                “Just a work colleague huh?” Rooster Ten murmurs, and Jake gives him the finger.

                “What do you do?” Rooster Three asks the new arrival.

                “I’m a dance teacher. Are you documenting all this?”

                “For science,” Rooster Three and Five answer and Rooster Eleven just nods, shrugs his shoulders easily. He seems very relaxed.

                “And is Tom Kazansky alive or dead…”

                “Dead… what kind of question is that?”

                “We’re just trying to figure out all the potential pivot points of the timelines. So is Maverick with Penny in your Universe then?”

                “No. He’s with Beau.”

                “Who?”

                “Ah, Admiral Simpson.”

                Jake is glad he isn’t the only one spitting their drink out in surprise.

PART FOUR

[agooddaytoscream]

LONG POST: About the situation in Inner Mongolia, Tuva, Kalmykia and Buryatia:

See this red piece of land here?

It’s almost as big as the actual country of Mongolia right?

…Wanna know why?

IT’S STOLEN LAND.

I am a Mongolian person from Outer Mongolia, it pains me to see my fellow siblings being subjected to a cultural genocide right now in China.

ALMOST NOBODY is talking about this.

Go ahead and search “Inner Mongolia” on any social media platform, see anything loosely related to it being stolen, or the eradication of the Mongolian language and culture in schools by the CCP?

Not much or close to none, right?

Unlike Tibet and Uyghurs, the other two biggest ethnic minorities in China, which have a number of campaigns/gofundmes/articles about the situation, there’s only a few articles about Inner Mongolia.

Do you want to know why you don’t hear about Inner Mongolia? Censorship and oppression.

Remember Tibet? And how China oppresses Tibetan Buddhism as a result, resulting in His Holiness, the Dalai Lama to leave his people’s homeland and reside in India? The biggest religion practiced in Mongolia and Inner Mongolia is Tibetan Buddhism.

I currently cannot find ANY campaigns aiming for a free Inner Mongolia, much less any recognizing what’s going on.

The Mongolic people have been the victims of genocide multiple times.

I’ve heard numerous negative opinions from foreigners online and in real life about the Mongol Empire and how “Mongolians deserve to be oppressed, China is doing them a favor, Traditional Mongolian script is used in Inner Mongolia and has a higher GDP, Outer Mongolia only uses Cyrillic.”

( Mongolia was colonized by the Soviet Union, and subjected to communism, do you know what it feels like for your own family members, brainwashed by communist propaganda during childhood, even now swearing up and down that Russians are superior and everything they do is correct. And when asked whether the innocent Mongolian Buddhist monks deserved to die at the hands of Russians, they said it was deserved?! This is how insane propaganda can get, nobody is immune)

Do you realize how fucked up that is?? To hear so many say your people deserve this??

“Mongolian is our mother language! We are Mongolian until death!” shouted ethnic-Mongolian students in China’s Inner Mongolia, in opposition to a government policy, ending bilingual education. Critics of this policy see it as the latest move in a decades’ long campaign aimed at erasing the Mongolian culture.

- PLEASE READ THESE ARTICLES, they’re not the most recent, but they tell the truth.

Why critics are asking if Inner Mongolia is the next Tibet or Xinjiang This is from 2023.

Inner Mongolia in 'War-Like State' This article is from 2011, however the events that were reported are still happening.

Mongolians in China Face 'Cultural Genocide' as Language, Culture Swept Aside: Group

This article is from 2021. It’s recent enough.

This goes without saying, but xenophobia is also extremely prevalent in China against ethnic minorities.

I highly recommend reading this specific tumblr post. I am also apart of many fandoms surrounding chinese media. OP makes many valid points and I cannot support them enough.

From personal experiences, I have also read about my people and Central Asians being portrayed as brutal, savage, uncivilized barbarians in many Chinese-American novels. It’s heartbreaking.

I despise how the world turns a blind eye to my brothers and sisters suffering, just because the severity of what my people endured is less than other groups, doesn’t mean that we should only focus on helping one minority, support all groups under oppression and colonialism no matter the severity of their situations.

I just found this Youtube video detailing the situation in Inner Mongolia, it’s beautifully done. PLEASE PLEASE WATCH THE FULL VIDEO, Beginning to End.

Why China Doesn’t Want You To Know About This Place.

Not to mention, the countries of Tuva, Buryatia, and Kalmykia are stolen by Russia just like Inner Mongolia. Throughout its history, Russia has seized foreign lands, colonizing indigenous peoples and destroying their national identity.

Note: I am not talking about the Sakha (Yakutia) because I am personally not apart of their community and will not talk over Yakut voices regarding Yakutia such as: https://www.instagram.com/verona.petrova?igsh=MXkyMHY3NDVoZjZxMg==

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C2iRvYqvu1M/?igsh=MTFucHg5aDdjaDFocA==

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A post shared by VERONIKA PETROVA (@verona.petrova)

The Tuvans are a Turkic group with their own language however, they share many cultural aspects with Mongolians. Tuva is the most poverty stricken place in Russia with the lowest standards of living.

The Buryats are an ethnic minority of Siberia whose population of around half a million largely follow a blend of Buddhism and Shamanism.

They are closely related to the Mongols, and the two groups share similar histories, cultures, religious beliefs, and lifestyles.

The Buryat language is considered one of the world’s most endangered languages.

Soldiers from Tuva and Buryatia have the highest casualty rates per 100,000 for Russia in the Ukraine war.

“These are some of Russia’s poorest regions: places where many young men see the army as their only chance to earn a decent living. And it’s these places that are now paying a disproportionately high price as Russian war casualties continue to rise.”

Please see: Free Buryatia Foundation, Buryat Liberation Movement, Mass Deportation and Ethnic cleansing of Kalmykia, The Kalmyk Deportations of 1943. Ukraine war: Tuva and Buryatia pay the highest price, but latest BBC Russian casualty figures show poverty not ethnicity the key factor.

Free Palestine, Congo, Sudan, Kurdistan, Armenia, Haiti, Yemen, Tigray, Syria, Afghanistan, Myanmar, Arakan, Tamil, Eelam, Western Sahara, West Papua, Kashmir, Canary Islands, & everyone undergoing genocide / colonialism.

Spread awareness about the femicides in Kazakhstan:

The Rise of Non-Consensual Bride Kidnapping in Kazakhstan: Developing a Culturally-Informed and Gender-Sensitive Response

Kazakh Activists Urge Authorities To Toughen Punishment For Domestic Violence

Can An Ex-Minister's Arrest In His Wife's Brutal Killing Finally Bring Protections To Kazakh Women?

EurasiaChat: Gender-based violence rears its ugly head again

YOU DON'T NEED TO GO OUT AND PROTEST, SIMPLY REBLOGING, LIKING, SPREADING AWARENESS, AND REPLYING HELPS AS WELL!!!

[aston14s]

The Perfect Pair- Fernando Alonso/ Fem! Reader

— DESCRIPTION ♯ on a random friday night, fernando got a message from his supposed “blind date”.

P2: Los Aliens Son Reales

masterlist | previous | next

Lance is now absolutely losing his mind and spamming Fernando’s phone but the older driver just closed his phone pretending that his phone’s not buzzing at all. Now that he’s chosen an outfit— the one’s Lance did not chose to be exact, he now lay down on his bed calming down his nerves for his date tomorrow. What did he even gotten himself into?

Despite the fact that his anxiety is through the roof, he can’t help but smile to the thought that he’s actually going on a date. What is she’s going to be like? Does she likes pastas that’s why she requested the Blańc? Does she thinks Greese is cool? Does she likes bands? He doesn’t even met her yet but he’s thinking about her already. He buried his face on a pile of pillows to drown out his thoughts (not that it helped anyway). He’s acting like a teenager on his first date and it’s making him feel appalled.

Fernando looks at his clock and it says 7:00. The restaurant is just 30 minutes away from his place but he hopped on his car already— afraid to be late to his date. He was about to put his key on the ignition when he received a message.

This is getting too real now. He let out a nervous breath as he drove away from his house. Before going to the restaurant he decided to buy some flowers for her. It’s already 7:50 when he got to the restaurant. He was about to message Lex to ask her about her whereabouts when he accidentally bumped into someone, Fernando dropped his phone and the stranger picked it up for him. “Oh, I am really sorry” you said, scrambling giving him his phone. “No, no. My fault for not looking anyway.” Fernando said. You were about to give back his phone but you saw what’s flashed on the screen, it’s your text messages. “So, you are James?” you asked. “Sorry?” Fernando said staring at you confused. He now saw how you looked like.

And you looked… really pretty.

Your hair is perfectly tied on a knot, showing your beautiful eyes, and your perfect complexion. An angel in disguise, he thought. Fernando was about to zone out but you spoke again. “I’m Lex, sorry if I asked Ali for your name already. I mean it’s just fair since you know mine, anyway.” you said. “Oh! Yeah. I’m James. Nice to meet you.” Fernando, or James said. He’s too deep on this lie now to chicken out now. Identify theft pfft, what is that?

After a few moments you and James are now seated on a table beside a large window. You stare at the view admiring the beauty of Oviedo. After a few seconds of silence you move your head on his direction. “I don’t really do this often, sorry if I’m being awkward or anything.” you said apologetically. “No, you are being perfect. Don’t worry at all.” James told you. You saw how his eyes glisten while he talks to you. He’s quite handsome, you thought. He is also a bit older for your age but you didn’t really quite mind. Ali is quite the matchmaker.

While waiting for the food, James started a conversation. Surprisingly, he did not asked what your favourite colour is. Which is rare. Instead he asked you if you believe in aliens, you said no, giving him all the same old reason, saying that it’s just fictional and there is no evidence of it. “What?! Fictional? No. The universe is complex. And it’s really really huge. To think that aliens doesn’t exists is kind of crazy. And no evidence? Do you not know about the USS Nimitz 2004 where they saw and I quote “an unidentified flying white object, without wings, and no rosters” What else could it be? A UFO! Es un maldito, UFO! Los extraterrestres son definitivamente reales. (it’s a fucking UFO. aliens are definitely real.) You chuckled at how passionate he is about it. He’s been geeking about aliens for quite some time now, he only realized when a waiter served you your food. “Oh. I’m sorry I think I rambled too much about UFO’s and aliens and stuffs.” He said embarrassed. “Don’t be. I enjoyed it. I might actually believe in aliens now.” you told him, giving him a huge smile.

After a few moments it’s now your turn to talk, “Yeah, my name is actually Alexandra Alegra Camille Adriana Montelle Gonźalez.” you said to him. You can hear him choke from the wine he’s drinking. You let out a small laugh from his reaction. “It’s like your parents couldn’t choose from all the baby names they prepared and just used everything!” he said jokingly. “I know right?! Writing all that before in all my school paper is such an experience.” You can see him let out a laugh of his own. “I must say, Adriana is a pretty name.” “Only a few loved ones calls me that. I guess you can be one of them.”

The date went better than you expected. You were worried that you would do something to ruin it but James made sure that you are comfortable and heard. He was interested in every word that you says. It’s cute how focused he is listening to all your silly thoughts. He also promised that he will watch your favourite movie so that you’ll have something to talk about on the next date. Next date already, huh? You are happy to know that he enjoyed the night just like you did. It was 11:30 pm when you bid goodbye to him. As much as you want to spend more time with him, it’s already late and you wanted to give him a rest as well. He offered to give you a ride home, you declined it but gave in after a few (a lot) of convincing from him.

The ride home was silent, not the awkward kind though. It’s a comfortable silent. The silence after a tiring yet good time. Summer Nights started playing on the radio. “I love this song!” you exclaimed, turning up the volume. You sang along to the song while James hummed with you. It’s a perfect end to the night.

“Thank you for the ride, James.” you said, while giving him a hug. “Mmhm, have a good night, Adi.” You smiled at your new nickname and gave him a last good bye.

As Fernando walks to his car he couldn’t help but jump in joy. Such a perfect night, indeed.

nano_alo

liked by lstrolly, dannyr3, and 34 others

nano_alo i guess she liked the flowers

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lstrolly WTF OLD MAN ARE U CHEATING ON ME?!

↳ leosdad WHAT???

↳ nano_alo @leosdad don’t listen to him, the kid is kind of you know…

lstrolly SO THIS IS WHY U ARE NOT REPLYING TO MY MESSAGES

lstrolly i hate you so much

↳ dannyr3 nando please reply to lance asap, he is crying on face time. it’s not a good sight to see.

Note: Waahhh, second chapter !! Enjoyed writing this. I just think he believes in aliens because hello?! Nano is an alien 😔 *cue E.T. by toy-box*

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

the albatross - m. murdock

a/n: hi everyone! so this is that weird and off putting reader i was mentioning earlier! she's not that weird but she's sort of odd so yeah. also i know bucky is the winter soldier but idk how else to tag this so oh well! i do have lore and stuff for readers time as a soldier so i'll include that in later installments! i was kind of in a writers block and this pushed me out of that. so enjoy! please please tell me what you thought and if you want more! warnings: cursing, mentions of death, war, torture, pain, people being dead, reader having horrible people skills and ptsd, mentions of sex maybe? uhmmm in general reader is just sort of strange and this is her and matt's early relationship, so sorry if i missed anything ! word count: 3.6k summary: you have spent the past ninety (give or take) years tortured and in pain. then, a handsome stranger comes into your life and changes everything. pairing: matt murdock x winter soldier!fem!reader now playing: the albatross - taylor swift "i'm the albatross/i swept in at the rescue/the devil that you know/looks now more like an angel/i'm the life you chose/and all this terrible danger"

You’re working a morning shift at the bakery when he comes in. The pastries in the case are laid out just so, and you have been meticulously working on this sign for your fall specials. You are determined to focus on something that is not how poorly you slept, your hair tied up in a braid behind you as you work.

You’re determined to get these pumpkin stems drawn correctly; a green marker clenched in your hand. Your knuckles are white with the tension you are holding in your fingers. It’s around eight in the god damn morning, and you have been awake since around three a.m.

You don’t even hear the bell ring, nor do you hear the click-clacking of a cane on the tiled floors, you only hear an awkward clearing of the throat, to which you spin around, about to throw the marker at the customer, but stopping when you realize what you’re doing.

The customer smiles awkwardly at you, and you recognize instantly that between his glasses and cane, he is most definitely blind. You almost feel silly, until you remember everything, and you wish that there was more moments where you think you’re silly for being paranoid.

And there’s something else, too. You look at this man for a few moments, before realizing that he is so god damn hot. Which, is weird, because you have not felt anything for any man or woman in years, too busy focusing on other things, too busy thinking about everything that’s happened. But god, the stubble tracing his face, the way his dark hair falls, and the way his hand wraps around his cane..

But what gets you really is his lips. Maybe you’re staring, maybe you don’t care. But his lips are this pretty pink, and you find yourself getting lost in the nicest daydream you’ve had in a very long time..

And then, you snap out of that fantasy to remind yourself that you are working and don’t even know his name.

“Hi, sorry,” You cough awkwardly, “Was just focused,” You tell him, approaching the counter. You wipe your sweaty hands on your apron, before putting on your best ‘I’m a friendly bakery worker who just wants to sell you pastries, also tip me please!’ smile on. “What can I get you?” You ask.

“Do you guys have apple turnovers?” It is the first time this fall that is under 65 degrees, so you understand that there is some cravings for autumn snacks.

“Yeah, yeah,” You move towards the case to get some, “Just the one?”

“Three, actually. For the office.” He hums.

“Some big office,” Your voice is a sarcastic mumble, not really for the an to hear but he chuckles at it, and you almost think it’s weird that he an hear you but your brain tells you not to judge, since there is a whole lot the handsome stranger could judge you for.

“We’re a small business. Very friendly, very personable.”

You cannot help yourself, and you find yourself asking, “What sort of business are you in?” What the handsome stranger does not know is that you are insatiably angry at yourself for asking that because you had pretty much promised yourself that you were never going to have any sort of relationship—it wouldn’t be fair to them, it wouldn’t be fair to you. And as previously established, that wasn’t a problem, because you weren’t really attracted to anyone before this handsome stranger waltzed on into the bakery.

“I’m a lawyer.” He smiles. A lawyer.

“Well, Mr. Lawyer, your total is 10.75.” He pulls out a twenty and when you hand him change, he asks, “Which one is the five?” and you wordlessly pull out the five from the stack you handed him, before he puts the rest of the change in his wallet, dropping a five and a small card into your tip jar. “You have a good day now.” He hums, before making his way out of the bakery.

You watch intently, maybe a little too intently, and you hear the voice of your best friend from your teenage years in your head saying, ‘You hate to see him go, but you love to watch him leave.’ And a small smile finds its way to your face.

Then, you notice the card he dropped in the jar before fishing it out. On the front, it reads,

‘Matthew M. Murdock, Attorney at Law.’ On the back, you read,

‘Nelson, Murdock & Page, Attorneys at Law,

Hell’s Kitchen’

Accompanied by this is a phone number and an address.

You pocket the card, and before you know it, costumers are flooding in, and you ease into the day, forgetting about the handsome stranger until you leave the bakery at around six o’clock that night. You finish cleaning up from the day before letting the woman who works to prep for the next day. Then you leave, heading home to the too quiet, too small apartment.

You don’t have much in your apartment. You sleep with a gun under your pillow and you have a cheap TV on your dresser. You spend most of your time catching up on books or movies. You make yourself box mac and cheese before eating it right out of the pot, sitting on your kitchen floor.

As you cook the mac and cheese, you say his name over and over again, letting it sit on your tongue and escape your lips, thinking about him intently. You glance at your watch and decide that maybe it’s early enough that he might still be at his office.

You fish your tiny flip phone out of your pocket, dialing the number on the card and waiting. You’re holding your breath as the phone rings. A thought runs through your brain that maybe he gave you a wrong number and then your brain immediately reminds you that no man is ever going to give you his card, printed out, just to fuck with you.

“Nelson, Murdock & Page, how can I help you?” A voice asks, and you blink, hesitating for a minute.

“Uh, I’m looking for Matthew.” You say, and there’s some light shuffling, and again, this regret shoots over you until you hear a very smooth, very familiar voice,

“Hey,” His voice is like honey and you long to hear it clearer—The first time you’ve desired a better phone. “I was hoping you’d call.”

“Yeah, well, Maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”

“You know usually, that’s my line.”

“Wait, that works on people?” You hear his laugh on the other side of the phone and a shiver runs down your spine as you itch to make him laugh more.

“Telling people they’re beautiful doesn’t hit the same when you’re blind.”

“I guess not..” There’s a silence on his end of the phone, before he says,

“I never got your name.” For a moment, you consider giving him a fake name, but you find yourself giving him your name, the one that your parents gave you all those years ago. It’s foreign on your lips, a rare gem that you do not often give out. He repeats it and you swear you could almost die right then and there. “What are you doing tonight?” 

You’re taken back by his forwardness, not anticipating that maybe this handsome stranger, Matthew, wants to be around you just as bad as you want to be around him. And then you look around at your dingy apartment, with your boxy TV, the gun under your pillow, and you, sitting on the floor of your kitchen, having just finished eating box mac and cheese with a wooden spoon that just for a second tastes like the one your mother used to cook with, the one you’d get tastes of sauces, soups, anything you could get your hands on.

And then you remember everything that happened after those days sneaking tastes of your mom’s cooking and you feel guilty for pursuing handsome Matthew, because he has no idea what he is getting into.

“Just finished dinner. Was planning on just relaxing.” Reading until around midnight and then getting an hour or two of sleep.

“Well, how about we go do something?” You detect a bit of hopefulness in his voice. You find yourself asking before you can stop yourself,

“Like, like a date?” And he laughs again.

“Yes, like a date.”

“I don’t know,” You start, “Usually I have to ask my father’s permission before I go out on the town with a boy.” You want to slap your hand over your mouth because you sound your age. Oh god.

“Really?”

“..No.” You hope he finds your weird, totally not a cover up, joke funny. And he laughs again, telling you,

“You’re funny.”

Yeah, really fucking hilarious.

“So, a date?”

“A date.” You consider this for a moment. A date might lead somewhere real. Somewhere dangerous. Somewhere you haven’t been in.. years. Years might be an understatement. Your heart thuds against your chest, and you find yourself full of that nostalgic thing you call desire.

“What would we do?”

“Anything you want.” He tells you.

“Anything? That’s dangerous.” Because this whole thing is dangerous, you want to tell him, maybe you should mention the whole age thing, the whole assassin thing, the whole brainwashing thing, the whole thing.

“Yeah? What dangerous things do you have in mind, doll?” You have to hold the phone away from your ear to breathe, because it feels like someone just took the winds out of your sails. Suddenly it is 1940 something and a boy is flirting with you, and you have to act like a lady in hopes that he will treat you right.

Odd thing to think about today, but you’re an odd person.

“What about ice cream and a bookstore?” You ask, and for a moment you want to hit yourself for not suggesting something cool like a club or something and then you realize that you have no idea what counts as a cool date in this day and age.

Did you know when you were a teenager and had the world at your fingertips, eighty (give or take) years ago?

But to your surprise, handsome Matthew just responds,

“That sounds nice. Do you want me to pick you up at your apartment?”

The idea of handsome Matthew being at your tiny apartment that is not suitable for a date makes your heart race.

“I’ll meet you at the ice cream place in an hour. You know the one near the bakery?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

“Yeah. See you.” And when you hang up, you realize just what has happened. For the first time since 1944, You have landed yourself a date with a handsome man that is genuinely interested in you and in your infinite wisdom decided that ice cream and books were the best way to impress him.. Books.. Blind man.

You lightly bang your head against the counter behind you, muttering to yourself how stupid that was. But you an only dwell on it for a moment before you are standing up and making your way over to your room to get ready.

You’re still in your work uniform. And you look like an idiot. So, you clean yourself up and pull on something presentable, something comfortable. There is no confusion as to the nature of this meet up, you two are going on a date and you asked a blind man to go to a bookstore. You feel like an asshole. And you’re aware that you’re putting emphasis on that, but still!

You go through outfits and outfits, trying to figure out what an appropriate outfit is for this first date. You end up in something casual, and you hope you’re not underdressed. Honestly, you know you’re making a fuss over something as standard as a date, but you are genuinely desperate to have this go well.

You finally decide on an outfit and make your way out the door, grabbing your jacket and stepping out of the apartment. You stop outside of your door before turning around and going back into your room to change your top.

But eventually, you do get to the ice cream place Matt and you had discussed on the phone. And there he is, in all his glory, wearing the same outfit he wore when you saw him in the bakery that morning, only, without his tie, and he looks more disheveled. Somehow it’s more charming to see him like this, more exhilarating to imagine a life with such a low stakes man (You’ll look back on this thought later and laugh)

“Hi,” You greet, and Matt smiles in your direction.

“Hi.” He hums, and again, you feel nervous! So, before he can say much else, you blurt out,

“So, This is my first date in a while.. So. Sorry about that.” You say awkwardly.

“A while?” He asks, tilting his head like a curious dog. You’re struck by the fact that he is around 70 years younger than you. “Like, a few months?”

A beat.

Handsome Matthew is much busier than you are, it seems.

“More like a couple of years.” And by ‘a couple’ you mean eighty some odd years, but Matt doesn’t need to know all of that right now. But he just hums and nods, before answering,

“That’s alright, I’ll be gentle.” Your face flushes, and with a nervous laugh, you ask,

“You mean we’ll take it slow?”

“Sure. Whatever. We’ll figure out the details of it all later.” His hand finds yours, and before you can protest he pulls you into the ice cream shop. Handsome Matthew orders chocolate chip cookie dough because he is perfect in every way, and you order..

“Butter pecan, please.” You get odd glances from Matthew and the seventeen year old minimum wage worker behind the counter, but neither of them say anything. You manage to beat Matthew to paying for the ice cream, and as you walk, he asks,

“Butter pecan? Really?” And you roll your eyes. Young people today, always judging.

“You’re lucky they didn’t have butterscotch, that’s my real favorite.” You respond, before taking a lick of the ice cream. Your handsome date, gives you another bizarre look.

“Okay, what’s your third favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Mm..” You take a few minutes to think about it, before deciding on your answer. “A tie between pistachio and coffee.” And at your answer, Matt laughs at you. You let out an offended gasp, although you’re not being serious, before asking, “what’s so horrible about that?”

“You have the ice cream preferences of an eighty year old,” He laughs and you laugh too, because oh, if only he knew.

“Sorry, my pallet is straight from the 40’s.” It’s a joke. That’s a joke. Not at all based in facts or actuality. You continue working through eating your ice cream and talking to your handsome date. “So, does the handsome lawyer have any family I should know about?”

“You think I’m handsome?” He grins, and your face flushes.

“Answer the question.”

“No siblings. My dad died when I was young and It’s only recently that I’ve been talking to my mother.” Interesting, you think, and then this dawning realization happens where you realize that the next thing out of his mouth will be the inevitable question, “How about your family?”

You consider lying but you decide against it. If this is going to lead anywhere good, you don’t want to base it off lies.

“Not much to say. I’m the sole survivor.” You shrug, keeping it vague. He frowns a bit before squeezing your hand.

“A couple of orphans, huh?”

You squeeze his back.

“Seems like it.”

You kind of aren’t over the death of your parents and your siblings and quite literally everyone you knew as a teenager and young adult—You’re not over so many fucking things that if you went through it all, you’d probably keep poor Handsome Matthew up all night.

But instead of talking about that, Matt finds himself walking with you to the bookstore. You hold the door open for him and begin to wander. You quickly move past the books on World War II, as if faced with an ex you want nothing to do with them.

You begin to look at the romance books, scrunching your nose at how cheesy and surface level so many of these young adult novels are. But then you remind yourself that you are a hundred years old. But you look like you’re in your late twenties, early thirties. As you’re looking at the books, Matthew makes his way to the aisle next to yours, and talks to you through the stacks.

“So, what’s your favorite book?”

“That’s like asking a mother her favorite child.” You answer quickly, and you hear him laugh. Your face flushes.

“Try for me.”

“Uh, I really love Great Gatsby. I’m kind of fascinated with the zombie genre, too, it’s sort of new and interesting, and uh, oh, I read this Neil Gaiman novel, uh, Stardust? I really liked that.” You confess. Matt listens as you fumble through novels, both of you making your way towards the end of the aisle.

“And movies?”

“Why is everything about me? I didn’t hear your favorite novel.”

“The Outsiders.” He responds, and you make a mental note to try and find it in the bookstore. “So, movies?”

You’ve had autonomy for around three years now, so.. Your movie knowledge has been kind of stunted, so you wrack your brain to try and come up with something impressive.

“I really like the Indiana Jones series, uh, oh, The Matrix, and..” You ponder your brain. “Oh! And King Kong!” You saw that one in the theatres for your thirteenth birthday.

“Like, the one that came out in 2017?” He asks, and again, you consider lying, because you actually have seen that one because when you looked up ‘King Kong’ it came out, and it really blew your mind how far CGI had come.

“No, the one that came out in ’33.” As if it is the most normal thing in the entire world.

“One of your favorite movies is one from 1933?” And the old woman in you wants to insist that you loved the decades you grew up in, and that seeing King Kong in the theatres was a marvelous thing because you could barely afford rent. And then you remember you shouldn’t reveal your history with the Great Depression to a man you’re on your first date with.

“Yup.” You assert, and ask, “You?”

“Star Wars, any of them, and the Princess Bride.” Again, you make a note to add it to your list.

“Interesting.” You hum, and you find The Outsiders, wanting to read it, to consume it, to consume him, and every thought he has. The two of you meet at the end of the aisle, too close to be platonic as his hands come to find your arms, and you shudder at the affection.

“Touch starved, huh?” He grins. You flush and roll your eyes.

“You’re so mean.” You huff, and he laughs. His hand moves up your arms and cups your jaw, enjoying the feeling of your warm cheeks.

“Well, you’re odd.”

“Odd?”

“Everything about you. Your movie tastes, your jokes, your ice cream flavors.” He hums, with a soft shrug. “It’s not a bad thing, I’m just.. Trying to figure you out.”

“You’d be the first to accomplish such a feat.”

He laughs at that, and he’s so beautiful.. That you cannot help yourself when you lean up and gently press a soft kiss to those beautiful pretty pink lips that had caught your attention that morning. He kisses you back, without hesitation.

You feel at peace for the first time in years, as if everything you had gone through, every moment of torture and pain, has been worth it because it leads you to this. To Handsome Matthew, who kisses you so tenderly that no matter how simple it is, you are left breathless and desperate for more. You lean into him, deepening the kiss, pushing him back a bit, his back pressed against the stacks. The book in your hands is crumpled, and eventually, Matthew pulls away, before pushing you back a bit.

“Easy,” He says breathlessly, and you need the reminder, because you try to catch your breath. Holy shit. “Easy, easy..” he repeats, his hands rubbing up and down your arms a bit. “I’ve got you, just breath.” He laughs, and you lean your forehead against your shoulder. Fuck.

“When can I see you again?” Is your only thought, and he chuckles gently.

“Whenever you want.” He promises, and you nod, before leaning up to kiss him again.

One day you’ll tell him everything. You’ll tell him all of the horrible things you’ve done and have had done to you, and you’ll tell him why the nightmares came, and why they won’t ever go away. One day, you’ll tell handsome Matthew why you sleep with a gun under your pillow and why you have no family and why you are so odd.

For now, you decide that you deserve a few nice things.

And when he kisses back, you realize that maybe he is just as infatuated with you as you are with him. Maybe. Maybe he is full of secrets and his own horrors that plague him while he sleeps, and maybe that’s the unspoken reason you are so deeply fascinated with one another.

Maybe.

Maybe you’ve spent the past ninety years going from fight to fight, to nightmare to nightmare. Maybe you’re owed some time in the sun with Handsome Matthew.

Maybe.

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Content warnings for this chapter: weapons, ptsd references, implied violence

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55445686/chapters/140852350

Chapter 5 - Kaz

“It can’t be a coincidence,” 

Kaz mused over Nina’s words for a moment, the cogs in his mind turning slowly to put the pieces together. It definitely didn’t feel like a coincidence. But Kaz tended to follow a strict practice of believing nothing was a coincidence. He’d told Inej that once, and she’d nodded wisely.

“Fate has plans for us all,”

She’d been sitting on his windowsill, watching the rain running down the glass. She began to trace one with her fingertip, and he followed it with his eyes. Kaz frowned. He’d left the door open, because it was raining and he didn’t want her to open the window, but for some reason he was suddenly compelled to push it shut. Like there was something here that should be hidden, that he didn’t want to entertain the possibility of anyone else ever bearing witness to. He flexed his fingers and gripped his cane tighter, refusing to move.

“Suddenly, I believe in coincidences again,”

Inej looked at him for a moment, then back to the rain. 

But it seemed very unlikely that Nina landing a strange job on the Geldstraat right before this job started was a coincidence. Kaz didn’t know what it added up to yet, but he would figure it out.

“Well, anyway,” said Nina, “I spoke to Feliks, all good for the job. He’s not thrilled about it though,”

“Of course he’s not,” said Kaz.

“He said you’ll owe him for the lost income,”

That would be more concerning if Feliks didn’t already owe Kaz money. And anyway he wasn’t really paying attention to that; mind still whirring away trying to solve the puzzle of Nina’s job on the Geldstraat last night. Not a coincidence. No such thing as a coincidence. No such thing as fate either, but Kaz really shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.

“Did they want you to go routinely? At the Geldstraat?”

Nina bit her lip.

“He said it could be an ongoing offer, if I wanted it. But he also said he lost an indentured Healer recently, if he gets someone else I don’t see him forking out any extra cash for the pleasure of my company,”

“When you say lost…?”

Nina grimaced.

“Concerningly vague,”

Kaz wasn’t surprised. He nodded.

“Alright, I’ll look into it. If this ends up being an ongoing job for you it might be good for intel. Inej is at the Crow Club, tell her to get a bag together - I want you at the university tonight,”

“Tonight? Kaz, you said two days, I have clients-”

“They’ll wait,”

“Kaz-”

“Update Inej. I need to talk to the old man,”

Nina huffed a little, but she turned on her heel and went on her way. Kaz watched the empty doorway for a moment before he slowly stood up - his leg was wreaking havoc today, and he leant heavily against his cane to find his balance. He was going to be vulnerable without the Wraith for a time, and now she was vanishing slightly earlier than expected. He’d set up a communication line but it still felt dangerous not to have her close by, gathering secrets. 

“I’m not sure I’m following,” she’d admitted last night, when they were discussing the plan.

It was before word had come from Nina and she’d left to follow her to the Geldstraat. They sat in Kaz’s office at the Crow Club - the door was closed and the room had no window, but they needed privacy and there wasn’t much Kaz could do about that. He watched Inej, wondering if they would need to step outside, but she seemed fine perched cross-legged on a chair, posture perfect, hands planted on her knees. Kaz found himself studying the tiny movements in her fingers, the occasional movement of her boots against her knee as she shuffled her feet. He bought her the boots the night they came back to the Slat, because he was an idiot and he hadn’t brought anything with him for her to wear. She’d traipsed after him all the way from the very North of West Stave to the very South of East still dressed in those ridiculous purple silks, completely barefoot. It hadn’t helped the whispers amongst the Dregs about what he’d hired her for.

“What connection does any of this have?” she asked, beginning to drum her fingers against her knees.

“It’s about forming the connections,” he’d told her, “Just focus on getting close to the mark - or let Nina get close and follow suit. Then we can discuss what comes next,”

Kaz’s leg screamed at him all the way down the stairs, only quieting slightly when he began to cross the ground floor of the Slat towards Per Haskell’s office. The Slat was nothing special to look at - actually it was ugly as hell to look at, with its faded, faintly mossy eaves, the wonky boards at the front that made it look like it was leaning on the buildings either side of it for support, and the fact that it probably was leaning on them but the boards just accentuated it - but nothing had come as close to feeling like home to Kaz as the Slat did since he’d arrived in Ketterdam and his entire world was slowly pried from his weak little childish hands. That was what this city did; took everything from you. And this is what you did to survive it: demand something in return. Scrape and claw and bleed your way through the Labyrinth until you didn’t just defeat the monster at its centre, you became it. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. He wasn’t quite there yet, on the very top, but he would be. He would taste the monster’s flesh, and embrace the city as his own. The Labyrinth was meant to be a prison, but if you played your cards right you could own it. And Kaz never sat down to a card game he couldn’t win. 

“Enter,” came the gruff, muffled response from Per Haskell to Kaz’s sharp, single knock on the door.

It sounded like he’d already been drinking, and when the door was open the smell alone confirmed it. Kaz fought the urge to grimace, keeping his face a cool, flat mask as he closed the door behind him. There was a window in this room and for a strange, ridiculous moment Kaz almost moved to open it. He needed to get his head on straight - the Wraith wasn’t even here, and if she had been then she could open a damn window herself if she wanted to. 

“Kaz, my boy,”

Haskell gestured for him to take a seat, and Kaz’s leg was putting up such a protest that for once he took up the offer.

“Sir,” he said, nodding.

Haskell grunted. He was playing with one of his little ships in a bottle things again, and for a moment just let Kaz stew whilst he drove his focus into rearranging one of the tiny pieces. Kaz didn’t get the appeal of these little models but they were popular to display in merchant houses, to sit on desks or mantelpieces like the homeowner was waiting for your gaze to linger on it just a second too long so that he could tell you a long story about it and how it’s an exact replica of a ship he, in fact, owns himself. There were two half-constructed ones sitting on Haskell’s desk that he’d given up on over the last few months, and Kaz watched the man’s meaty, and slightly shaking, fingers fumble over the details of his newest one, feeling unsurprised that he’d never been successful at finishing any. After a minute had passed Haskell sighed and plunked the thing carelessly against the table, then picked up his glass and downed the last few drops before all but slamming it back down. Kaz flexed his fingers over the crow’s head of his cane, tightening his grip. 

“Brandy?” asked Haskell, as he began to pour himself another glass.

Kaz abstained.

“Alright,” the old man breathed, taking a sip before he continued: “What trouble are you here to tell me this time, then?”

What could Kaz tell him by way of trouble? That Jesper Fahey abandoned his security shift without telling anyone where he was, only for the Wraith to drag him back five hours later from a Dime Lions club? That Nina Zenik had been sent to the Geldstraat to complete a highly suspicious Tailoring job that might have had something to do with the job Kaz had been planning for so long? All he said was:

“I need Nina and Inej to start the job earlier than I thought,”

Haskell frowned.

“How long will they be gone?”

“I don’t know yet, but it’s all under control. You’ll get your twenty percent,”

Haskell’s jaw twitched. It always got on his nerves when Kaz didn’t tell him what a job was, but that wasn’t part of their agreement. And besides, Kaz didn’t want to spread the details of his plans to too many people - everything in Ketterdam leaked.

“You can’t just take my Heartrender and my best spider without telling me h-”

“They’re not yours,”

“Well they ain’t yours,” growled Haskell.

“That isn’t what I meant,”

He groaned loudly and performatively, shaking his head.

“Don’t go getting righteous on me now, boy. I want them back here within the month, at minimum,”

Kaz pursed his lips.

“I’ll try to arrange that,”

“You see that you do,”

“Yes, sir,”

Haskell snorted, but Kaz knew he lapped up every stupid politeness he gave him. He liked to think of himself as the patriarch of a large, criminally-inclined family, but everyone knew it was Kaz who did the real work. It was more of a formality for Kaz to ever tell him anything at all.

“The Black Tips are still edging away at Fifth Harbour; pushing their luck,” he said, watching Haskell run a ringer along the rim of his glass, “We should move quickly if we want to re-establish our dominance,”

Haskell waved a hand dismissively through the air,

“A mere dog yapping at our heels. Monitor the situation, if things are any worse in a few months time we can organise a parlay,”

The man really was an idiot. Kaz nodded.

“Yes, sir,”

By the time Kaz left the office, disgruntled and impatient, Nina was back at the Slat. 

“Where’s Inej?”

“Upstairs getting her stuff,” Nina said, nodding vaguely towards the stairs, “You really not going to tell us anything at all?”

Kaz sighed.

“When you get to the University, go straight to the office opposite the Boeksplein; it’s 24 hour, and they should be expecting you. You just arrived from Ravka - private journey, pepper it in because the tourist ferries don’t arrive this late - and there should be transfer papers waiting in your name. They might kick up a fuss about you being early, accommodation-wise, but-”

“But we’re two young rich girls from Ravka, it’s the middle of the night, we’re exhausted from travelling, and we’ve nowhere else to go,” Nina finished in a falsely distressed voice, winking at him, “I think I can manage that,”

“Good,” he handed her a thin stack of kruge, “That’s a month’s salary in advance, if it takes longer I’ll give you more but if it’s shorter I’ll need it back,”

She narrowed her eyes.

“This is your money? Not the Dregs’?”

He shrugged. He had to pay her somehow.

“Thank you, Kaz,”

“You won’t be any use to me if you run out of cash and starve,”

Nina sighed, tucking the notes into her pocket.

“Well thank you anyway,”

[im-in-a-love-cult]

back to this because i’m obsessed 😋

blind Pandora who touches all of her surroundings to get to know them

blind Pandora who’s friends let her touch their features

blind Panda who can tell when somethings off, although she can’t see facial expressions or reactions, she is so good at picking up on energy

blind Pandora who has the neatest handwriting just because she spends hours drifting her hands across written-on paper to study how to write

blind pandora who has my has my heart <3

[impossibledial]

i’m so intrigued by dannyclara despite not shipping them. i think that relationship is an interesting addition to clara’s character arc and i’m still trying to to figure out it’s purpose.

[tevinter-pariah]

I am coming to the realization that my new DND character is just the warlock version of elder price Book of Mormon and I wanna die