#also also I had 90% of this written six weeks ago and it took me until yesterday to figure out the ending soooo | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

blueprint-han · 4 years

Text

a musical encounter.

pairing: music major senior!han x music major junior!reader

genre: university (?? idk) au; fluff.

⇥ warnings: very terribly™ written by a person who has a -8.9 knowledge in music, also the singing parts are not very well described and this may seem incomplete because i’m trying to force teach myself to write short, but oh well 🤧 I wanna write a longer fic based on this in the future hhhhhhhh. me after writing this fic: wow i really clowned myself at “short fic” didn’t I 🤡 also not proofread so be mindful of errors and google autocorrect <//3

word count: 1.7 K 🤡

⇥ disclaimer: this writing does not aim to represent the activities of the real Han Jisung, nor does it represent JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

type: blurb drabble 😭 (why can I never write sh0rt hmph >:( )

network tag: @stayverse @districtninewriters @inkidz + @sunoo-luvs

part of: the url drabble game; requested by @missinghan :’’) (requests for this are closed now!)

!!; song y/n is imagined to sing here is ‘Freedom 90, the Pitch Perfect Version (of course, with pre added acappella). You may find the song here, if you wanna listen to it. hhhhhh this is based on my rusty research about music equipment (which may be wrong) so if this is not what it’s supposed to mean please go easy on me. 😂

↯ note: hhhhh okay so this one has no direct mention or relation to your url but I rather picked it up from your url ~vibes~ (since the only idea that was dropping into my head was making han go missing ufhurg) so I hope you don’t mind ! Hope you like it uwu 💓 Happy reading. <3 Again this will not compare to your writing queen, but I tried. 😔 ⇥ dawn.☀️

“Gosh, this is a music recording, not a date — what’s there to be scared about?” Your friend chided, setting up the mic and the filter as you panicked behind the glass. “You’re a music major! Isn’t this supposed to be what you do?”

“You’re saying that like you aren’t one, and you totally didn’t freak out two days ago, Sana.”

Sana huffed, shaking her head before moving to connect all the wires in place. “Yeah. but…” Her voice came out low when she crouched down to fix all the wires. “The nerves shake off eventually. You’ve nothing to worry. Did you hydrate?”

“I’ve been sipping on this water bottle for the past half an hour!” You sighed, walking inside the booth to stand next to your friend. “And what do you mean ‘shake off’ — you mean that time you ‘accidentally’ broke the headphones when you wear putting them on?” A bite of your lip to stifle your laugh, and Sana’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“Wow, you’re gonna-” She slapped your arm after getting up. “-bring that up even though we had an agreement that we’re gonna keep it a secret?”

“Okay, ouch that hurts!” You chortled. “There’s no one here though, I still kept my promise.”

“Yeah right, in a rented schoolroom studio, with cameras everywhere.”

“They still wouldn’t be able to hear me, right?” You pointed out, bursting into a fit of giggles, nervousness be damned when Sana pouted in defeat.

“Fine, now help me set this up. Come onnnnn…” Your friend shook your arm violently to kick you out of your laughter. You shook your head, crouching over again to fix the wires while your friend set up all the equipment outside the booth.

“All set?”

“Yeah…” You took a deep breath fixing your dress up a bit before reaching your hand out, fitting the headphones snug over your ears. Your eyes caught on something black lying on the tables, and you pointed it out.

“Whose headphones are those?” You pointed out, and Sana looked to the direction. “Eh,” she brushed it off. “Probably the person who’d received this room to record before, they’ll take care of it.” You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, nodding. “Now come on, let’s start. We have to submit this tomorrow and I have a movie date, so it can’t get later than this.”

“Alright,” You chimed, clearing your throat once, twice before inhaling deeply. You were surely nervous before, but somehow singing always helped you disconnect from your surroundings, it was your escape — one of the main reason you’d chosen music technology in a heartbeat when you found out it was an option for your major.

“Ready? And, go.”

Sana hit a button, causing soft music to play through the headphones, a melody she’d carefully crafted over nights of 3 am coffee and many, many texts to you — most of them saying “I wanna sleeeepppppp waaaaa”. You’d obviously heard it before but you realised why it took her so long (nearly a week), because it was near perfection.

“Heaven knows I was just a young boy~”

The song went pretty smoothly on the most part, with Sana stopping you in between verses and and going over parts she wanted you to repeat, which you gladly complied. She was the senior, of course.

When it cam down to the last verse, about half an hour had passed — and you felt pretty good about it. your vocals were shining pretty well and blended with the music perfectly, which put you at ease.

“Okay, let’s finish this.” Sana said, focused on changing up the settings, before giving you a countdown, hitting play. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you waited for the beat drop to end, leading to your high note. That again. went pretty well, along with the rest of the song, finishing it up with an exhale.

When you removed the headphones and got out of the booth — you met the eyes of someone you did not expect to see standing there.

“O-Oh, hello Han-ssi.” You bowed down in gratitude, overly surprised of his presence.

Han was, just like Sana, your senior. He was one of the best students in your academy — of course, scoring the highest grade in all of his tests. Many would say otherwise because of his tsundere nature, but you could tell that he had a burning passion for music under those eyes. You’d listened to his tracks in various events your university hosted — and safe to say you were in love with his music. He had a way of making his tracks sound so… real? And natural — the kind that you wouldn’t get bored of no matter how many times you heard it.

Han bowed back and mumbled a silent “hello~” back to you before extending hia hand past you to grab the headphones placed on the table. Ohhh, so that’s why they were familiar. You’d noticed them hanging around his neck multiple times on campus.

Once he’d chatted with Sana and you for a bit (more Sana than you) and bowed before he left, you grabbed Sana’s arm before pulling her towards yourself.

“How long was he here for?” You whispered, a pout on your face.

“Umm, I think throughout the last verse?” Sana shrugged.

“What?” Your shoulders slumped. “Didn’t he come to pick up his headphones?”

“Are you seriously getting flustered right now?” Your friend narrowed her eyes playfully, making a teasing noise as she pushed at your shoulder.

“Ah,” You rolled your eyes. “Stop being so teasing, I’m just a little shy of anyone else hearing my singing.” You flapped your hand to brush her statement away — before she could say something or point it out how evidently flustered you’d grown of the fact that your role model — the Han Jisung — had listened to your music.

“Well, you’re a music major, kid. Get used to it.”

And with that, Sana bid her goodbye to you, helping you wrap up the place before hopping down the stairs, earphones plugged into her ears as she hummed a tune all the way.

You silently stood in front of the elevator, playing with the hem of your sleeves as you waited for it to arrive. Curse at your studios for being on the last floor of the building, waiting for the elevator seemed like an eternity.

You also didn’t notice the random person that stood beside you. it was getting late anyways, the sun was almost close to setting by the time you were done, so it was only obvious that the remaining students would go home.

“So, you sing?” A very familiar sounding voice echoed in your ears, and you flipped your head to the side, once again meeting the eyes of someone you didn’t expect to meet right now.

And of course, if was Han Jisung.

Now that you weren’t freaking out (but you were close to), you could focus on him a little more properly, and you immediately noticed the headphones hanging around his neck, again. He had a large black hoodie on, his hands were shoved into his pockets and his hair was neatly combed and parted. If you had to describe him in three words, it’d be “messy but clean”.

“Oh, h-hello again.” You bowed.

��Hi!” He reciprocated your actions, looking at you. “My question?”

“W-what?” Your eyes widened as you fiddled with the edge of your shirt.

“You sing?”

“I-” You started. “I do, I’ve loved singing since I was six.”

“Oh.” Jisung nodded, letting his words trail of for a second. “You sing really well. I listened to that last part of the song — really well done.”

Tensing up, a smile tugged at your lips. “R-really?”

“Yeah,” Jisung chuckled. “You have a pretty voice, Y/N. And that’s a genuine compliment.”

“O-oh.” You felt yourself grow bashful of his presence all of a sudden, your cheeks feeling hot as the heat spread to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You mumbled, diverting your gaze from your eyes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “That’s so sweet of you to say.”

“I mean it.” The boy said, frowning. at the sight in front of him — your eyes drifting from place to place and the way you shifted from one foot to other — you seemed to be uncomfortable, but in reality you just didn’t know how to respond. “You okay?”

“A-ah, I am, it’s just.” Moving your hands around, you tried to put your thoughts into words, only to fail miserably, before you sighed and collected yourself. “I just really like your music a lot, and I…” You trailed off, rubbing at your shoulder. “Kinda look up to you, so hearing you say that, it just means a lot to me. Thank you”

The boy standing beside you beamed like sunshine at your response, gently poking at your shoulder as he eyes you mischievously.

“You look up to me, huh?” He giggled when you stumbled over your words, bringing a hand to rake through his hair. “You’re adorable, I’ll tell you that too.”

“Oh my god stop, do you want me to combust?” You laughed, the nervousness laced throughout your statement.

“Okay fine,” Jisung nodded, attaching his headphones to the audio jack of his phone, rummaging through his playlist. “You wanna come to my studio once?”

“What?” Your head snapped in his direction, eyes widening as you took in what he said, excitement filling your veins? Han Jisung’s studio? Seeing him make music in front of your eyes? Is this a fucking dream?

“I mean, only if you want to, of course. I was just asking because you seemed like you’d like to see my music making process. You don’t have to say yes though.”

“Oh gosh, no, I’d love to!” You yelped, stopping him in his tracks. He smiled gently, nodding at you as he scratched his chin in thought.

“So, tomorrow morning is fine?” He looked at you with almost, almost pleading eyes, and you felt like your heart melted into a puddle on the spot. He was cute.

You smiled, shyly nodding as you quickly went through your schedule in your head. “I can work with that.”

“See you tomorrow morning then.” The elevator chimed, the doors sliding open as the both of you got in, giggling at each other.

You couldn’t wait for tomorrow morning, that was for sure.

*silently puts on clown hat and leaves*

↯ note: 🕯️ ignore me this is just a small prayer that tumblr doesn’t make me battle the tags yet again 🕯️ may the tumblr gods be in my favor atleast this once ;-; 🕯️ ⇥ dawn.☀️

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tundrainafrica · 4 years

Text

Title: A Rough Day

Summary: It should have been apparent to Hange by the weight gain and the sudden lack of red days. Somehow, Levi noticed it first.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: Thought about this idea because of the headcanon from @faerielleart‘s blog and had to get it written out. Just some fluff and domestication for our favorite pairing.

It felt like the war against Marley happened centuries ago.

Levi was sure though that it had only been two years since they had signed the peace treaty with Marley ending the war and the reign of the titans. He was present in the signing of the treaty after all.

With the fall of the titans, the survey corps was declared redundant. The military shifted to defence against possible invasions by humans. There was no need for Paradis to rely on the soldier dubbed humanity’s strongest. Having seen enough war, bloodshed and loss to last a lifetime, Levi eventually decided to shift his focus towards more mundane things like entrepreneurship, marriage and maybe a family.

The only person he could have ever wanted to spend his whole life with had other dreams. The end of the war had opened up a new age for technological advancement and trade and the person heading it all was the former survey commander, Hange Zoe. The mad scientist could finally channel her genius and enthusiasm towards a new type of research to improve the lives of the people in Paradis.

Somehow, they managed to make it work.

There was no wedding, flowers, invitation or cake. There was just an unspoken agreement between them. They had originally lived in the same barracks and with the dissolution of the survey corps, it felt almost natural to move to a small flat near the center of Paradis, of what used to be Wall Sina. Their daily life together began soon after they settled in. Hange was gone by 5am and back in their flat by 9pm all week. Levi found happiness in keeping the house clean, cooking and catching up on all the sleep he had lost the past forty years of his life. When he ran out of tasks to do in the house, he found himself doing research on different types of tea as knew shipments came in from different parts of the world and experimenting on different mixes in the kitchen.

The two were following their own dreams and had pursued different things and this left little to no time for Levi and Hange to process the relationship between them. They were both the only survivors of more than a decade of fighting what seemed like a hopeless war. That history was enough to forge an unbreakable bond between the two. When they were together, they made the most of it. Nights together were intimate. Weekends together were comfortable. It was as if Levi and Hange were making up for all the comfort and happiness that they were deprived of the past decade.

The domestic lifestyle they have built together had also made Levi more familiar with the workings of a woman’s body. Levi grew up with his mother and was aware that women bled once a month. It was not something he occupied himself with in the barracks since it was the responsibility of the women to keep themselves clean. With Hange gone for 12 to 16 hours a day, it suddenly became Levi’s responsibility to clean blood off sheets and clothes on top of cleaning the house. The blood took hours to scrub off, even with the new chemicals and products coming into Paradis, it became the bane of Levi’s clean freak existence. That was until it stopped. Levi didn’t think too much of it at first. It meant one less job for him and Hange probably had a good explanation for it right?

A few months passed and Levi started to notice that Hange was getting chubbier. She was notably eating more, waking up later than she used to and coming home earlier. Levi didn’t complain. They were all welcome developments. It meant more time for the two of them and less blood to clean up.

“Sometimes, I just feel sick. Maybe I’m just working too hard.” Hange replied groggily when Levi prodded on these recent changes in their everyday schedule.

Levi raised one eyebrow. “Okay. Just don’t overwork yourself.” Like all days, Hange left for work while Levi went about his own chores for the day.

Those days, Levi found himself more invested as usual in his tea mixings. The diplomatic agreements gave rise to more and more new types of tea leaves and Levi was starting to get more creative and ambitious. He started to boil this new import called coffee beans with different types of tea leaves. The flowery aroma of some teas definitely did not mix with the bitterness of the coffee and as soon as Levi tasted them, he ended up setting them aside in the rejection pile.

The price of the tea leaves and coffee beans though and the trauma of having to deal with the scarcity of this commodity years ago forever stuck to Levi though and the latter ended up lining them up on the kitchen table trying to find a way to consume while at the same time enjoy his failed concoctions.

Levi only had a few seconds to ponder the fate of the failed concoctions before Hange came in.

Maybe we could just eat out. Levi remembered that he hadn’t prepared anything for dinner.

“Ahhh. Thank god you made some tea. Today was exhausting. I’ve been telling them to test that new contraption before...” Hange trailed off as she consumed the three cups of tea Levi had deemed failures in the leaf and bean mixing process. Her face quickly changed from pure exhaustion to excitement. “These are amazing Levi! Will you be selling these? Can you make more tomorrow?”

Levi stood frozen for a second, too surprised at how quickly Hange had consumed all three cups in front of them. “Sure.” He managed a nod as he gathered the three cups from the table and brought them to the sink. “About dinner…” Levi looked back only to find that Hange had retired to the bedroom. He at least had some time to wash the cups and cook dinner.

By the time he did cook dinner and call Hange from the room, the latter was dead asleep, sprawled all over the bed with no space for Levi to comfortably slip in. She was sleeping belly up and Levi only noticed that her belly was starting to form a small hill. She couldn’t be… Levi carefully placed his hand on her belly, only to be grabbed violently by the wrist.

“What the fuck Levi! I’m trying to sleep.” She pushed his wrist away and rolled to the side, her back facing him, falling asleep again almost instantly.

Levi held his aching wrist and walked back to the kitchen to clean out the rest of the tea cups he used in his mixing experiments, a little shaken by Hange’s reaction to his prodding. Maybe she just had a rough day.

Rough Day

Two months passed with no red days and a constantly drowsy and cranky Hange and Levi was sure that type of weight gain was not natural. All the weight had concentrated towards Hange’s belly and she was starting to have trouble walking.

“I really should watch what I’m eating. I’ve just been eating away my stress the past few weeks and people have been making fun of my weight gain, telling me to see a doctor. They’re even fucking asking me how many months in I am! I know I’ve been eating a lot but I’m really trying. Besides, I don’t even think we should be making jokes when we have to deal with the fact the port extension has to be opened next month to make way for new deliveries…”

Levi rested his chin on his hand and tuned out the fifth rant of Hange that week. He was 90% sure his theory was correct but Hange had not given him any opening to discuss it the past two months. How does he bring that up without pissing her off? More importantly, how the fuck does she not notice?

“Maybe you should take a break then?” Levi suggested half heartedly.

“What? Why? With so many things happening next month…. You can't expect me to…"

Levi once again tuned Hange out and focused instead on her belly. Hange was still trying to squeeze into her pants like she was fifteen pounds lighter and Levi was starting to worry about both of their bodies. "Maybe you should see a doctor?"

"Are you even listening to me? I was asking for your opinion on the new military gear!"

"So what I'm getting here is you don't have the time to see a doctor?"

Rough Day

Levi took matters into his own hands.

His first stop was the doctor's office. He knew he couldn't bring Hange in for a consult but all he wanted was to at least confirm his suspicions. The doctor only had to explain the lack of red days for Levi to be completely sure that the four he had gotten from the two on two he had put together was the correct answer. The crankiness, the fatigue and the morning sickness were only secondary evidence to the lack of red days and the apparent weight gain.

"So she shouldn't be working anymore should she."

"I would recommend she takes a leave for the next 6 months at least."

Levi thought for a second. "Why don't you get that in writing…"

The next few steps after that were easy. Hange may be in a high position in Paradise but Levi still had contact with one of the few people who could make sure Hange didn't show up for work. The child-loving, good-natured Queen Historia did not need any more convincing.

"Oh, I guess it looks like you're trapped at home then. Maybe you should spend the next six months resting." Levi said, feigning surprise at the letter from the queen he himself brought home.

"Indefinite leave for the next six months? What the fuck Levi you can't expect me to just sit around? Why the hell would you do this? And work today was so eventful… I was excited to test out the new cargo carrier…"

"Other people can take over the work."

"But can they really oversee everything. There's a lot going on and this is a really important time… I don't have the time to be sitting around."

"Maybe if you just---"

Hange grabs the envelope from Levi's hand and scans through it. " Wait Levi what the fuck. This wasn't sent here there's no return address. YOU filed for my leave?"

Levi shrugged. "What if they just gave it to me to give to you?"

"All official documents have to be coursed through me Levi. How the fuck could you do this. There's so much to be done. Just thinking about everything which is gonna be waiting for me after 6 months. What if the others don't handle the work right? What if they mishandle the new carrier and we lose thousands worth of products? Are you considering this?" Hange roughly grabbed the letter from Levi, almost tearing it in the process. "I'm appealing this."

"You must be shitting me Hange. You really don't get it do you?"

"The office should still be open." Hange said, not looking back.

It has been years since Levi's last military training but he was relieved to know he still had the agility to outrun an angry (but pregnant) Hange to the door. He locked the door behind him from the inside. "You're not getting out of here shitty glasses."

"You don't let me out and I swear I'm gonna break down the door while you're sleeping."

"Then I won't sleep."

"I'll break out through the windows then!"

Levi rushed to grab Hange from behind as soon as she turned her back. He was careful not to squeeze her swollen belly "If this were any other day, I probably would have let you get away with whatever bullshit you wanna do but I'm not letting you jeopardize what could be our future child shitty four eyes"

"You're not making any good arguments here!" Hange continued to struggle. "Stop holding me back!" In frustration, Hange shifted her weight towards her back, utilizing her size advantage to push the smaller man behind her.

Levi fell to the floor and let out a grunt of pain. "How dense can you fucking be? You're six months pregnant you dumb shit."

#levihan #levi x hange #levi x hanji #happy ending for levi #attack on titan fic #levi ackerman #hange zoe #fanfic

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underthewingsofthblackeagle · 4 years

Photo

“Berliner Fernsehturm” * Foto: BernardoUPloud

After her marriage with Frank Randall has failed and Claire Beauchamp flees from her violent husband, she finds refuge in the house of the Fraser/Murray family in Berlin-Wilhelmshorst. But then tensions arise between Britain (which has since left the EU) and some EU member states. All holders of an English passport are required to leave EU territory within six weeks … and suddenly Claire’s fate looks more uncertain than ever.

This story was written for the #14DaysofOutlander event, hosted by @scotsmanandsassenach

Chapter 9: 14 Men (5)

After she sat down and Jamie poured everyone a glass of water, Ferdinand Groide began:

"Mrs. Beauchamp, Jamie, Mr. Fraser, told me that your husband is Dr. Frank Randall. Is that correct?"

(...)

"As you may also know, I have left my husband. Our marriage had been on paper only for several years. I intend to ask for a divorce, if that's possible from here. But I still have to care about this man's life. I'm a doctor, I took an oath. If I reveal the secrets I have learned... what will you do to him?"

"What do you mean? What are we going to do with him?"

"Will you hurt him? I mean, will you let someone hurt him?"

Ferdinand Groide and Jamie looked at each other in amazement.

"Mrs. Beauchamp, we're not the Mafia. We don't hire hit men."

"But you're in Intelligence, Mr. Groide."

Claire said that sentence with the same calm and objectivity as if she was saying to Jenny:

"If you put one more egg in the batter, it gets better."

"And intelligence agencies do these things," she added to her statement with the same objectivity.

"Well, maybe the CIA or the KGB. Let me answer you this way: In my opinion, a living Frank Randall is far more interesting and valuable to a secret service than a dead Frank Randall."

"In other words, you guarantee me that the information I give you will not endanger his life."

Groide and Jamie looked at each other again.

"Promise me."

It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a demand, and the words Claire used to make that demand left none of the men unaware that there was no alternative to this bargain for them.

Groide struck the hand Claire held out to him.

"You have my word, Mrs. Beauchamp. You don't know me yet and you probably mistrust me. That's only natural. But Jamie, Mr. Fraser, can assure you that I'm a man of my word."

Claire looked over at Jamie. He nodded.

"Done."

She reached for the glass of water that Jamie had put in her hand and emptied it in one gulp.

Then she began to talk.

"Microphone" by Florian-Media

"It was in the year 2015, in late November 2015 to be exact."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Beauchamp," Groide objected, "but we ought to do this properly."

He removed from his briefcase a device whose rectangular clunkness was reminiscent of an early mobile phone. After placing it in the center of the table, he inserted two small, round microphones attached to longer cables, one pointing at Claire and one pointing at himself. Groide pressed the record button, then he gave the date, time, place, names of those present and, as the reason for the recording, ‘Statement by Dr. Claire Elisabeth Beauchamp’.

Jamie had to smile. Ferdinand was a friendly person, but he was also a German bureaucrat. Everything had to follow the specific order and everything had to be done 'by the book'. Those Germans. They had rules for everything. They couldn't just have a conversation like that, it had to be a 'statement' and of course it had to be 'recorded'. In this country everything was recorded, either on paper or on tape. And then everything was filed, paginated, numbered and archived. Nothing was lost. They were so damn meticulous, these Germans, but also so damn effective.

"Please begin with your personal life, Mrs. Beauchamp. Name, birthday, place of birth, family, etc."

"My name is Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. I was born in London on October 20, 1993, the only child of Julia, née Moriston, and Henry Montmorency Beauchamp. My mother was a primary school teacher, my father worked as a statistician for an insurance company. In the winter of 1998 my parents were killed in a car accident. My uncle, Lambert Quentin Beauchamp, was appointed by the authorities as my foster father and guardian. He was my only living relative, my father's only brother. Due to the activities of my uncle, who was an egyptologist and archaeologist, I grew up in England for only a short time, the rest of the time we spend abroad. When I was 16 years old, my uncle returned to England permanently and accepted a professorship at Oxford University. Shortly afterwards I began training as a nurse. Also in Oxford. At the age of 19, I had just completed my education, I met my future husband Franklin Wolverton Randall through my uncle. He also worked in the history department and specialised in Scottish history. At times he worked as an assistant to a professor. We married the following year. My uncle died only a few months later. His health had unfortunately not been the best at the end of his life. When my husband was called to Harvard University's history department, we moved to Boston.

"Oxford" by MarlonRondal

Groide nodded. Jamie was sure that nothing Claire had told him so far was new to his friend. Guaranteed, they had checked Claire from the day he requested the visa for her passport. And they had certainly not been idle since then. At "In Vino Veritas" there was a small but very effective group of staff who had certainly dug up everything they could find about the young woman in the past few days.

"When and how did you learn of your husband's secret activities?"

"It was in the year 2015, in late November of that year to be exact. Does the name Jonathan Pollard mean anything to you?"

Jamie listened with new interest. Groide just nodded.

"Then you know that this man has served thirty years in the United States for espionage. In 2015 he was released on parole and in the American media there was a lot of coverage and discussion for days. I had never heard this man's name before and, to be honest, I didn't care about the whole thing. However, I listened up when my husband spoke about it. It was a Sunday, two days after Pollard was released. I remember the whole thing so well because that day was the day of the terrible accident in that jademine in Myanmar, where 90 people were killed and over 100 people were missing. We had had dinner and then Frank turned on the TV. There was a talk show where the case was discussed. My husband had already started drinking in the afternoon. While Frank was watching the talk show, I thought, ‘My goodness, they're talking about an age-old espionage case and people are dying elsewhere without the media even paying attention.’"

Claire reached for her glass, which Jamie had refilled in the meantime, and took a big sip.

"I didn't pay much attention to the discussion on TV. But then suddenly Frank started mumbling loudly:

'Spy! Spy! Spy! Nonsense! The man was an amateur! What real spy leaves secret documents openly on his desk in the office and his wife was stupid enough to leave a suitcase with secret documents with a neighbour who was in the military himself!’”

Claire reached for her glass again and drank.

"What he said made me furious, so I said to him: 'Oh yes, but you know how a real spy behaves!’ I thought his reaction was terribly arrogant. To my surprise, he then turned down the TV. He came over and sat down with me on the sofa. He looked me in the eyes and grinned. Then he said, ‘Yes, my darling, I know that. The MI5 recruited and trained me while I was still studying at Oxford. Right after they heard I was going to specialise in Scottish history. With my family background and the good connections we had in the military and police through my cousin Jonathan, there were no obstacles.’”

"Books" by MichaelGaida

"How did you react to that?"

"Well, at first I was stumped. I thought he was just showing-off again. So I replied, ‘Why would the MI5 need an expert in Scottish history?’ He replied, ‘Well, of course you can't imagine, you little fool. Good God, Claire! The Scots want independence and just because last year's referendum went so well, they will not give up. It's their history they're drawing strength from! What do you think will happen if they really gain their independence? It could set off a chain reaction. You know that Prime Minister Cameron announced two years ago that he would hold a referendum on Britain's withdrawal from the EU if he was re-elected in 2015? So? He has been re-elected! Now there must be a referendum. And what if Britain's withdrawal from the EU is carried out but Scotland becomes independent and is then admitted to the EU as a member? Did you ever think about that? This is going to get us in big trouble! Then the EU will continue to stand with two legs on our island! We can't let that happen.’”

Claire paused for a moment, then she went on: "I must have looked at him in wonder and disbelief, because suddenly he stormed out of the living room. I heard him looking for something in his study. When he came back he had a newspaper article in his hand which he held in front of my face. ‘Read it,’ he said to me. ‘Our government takes this danger seriously... and so should you!‘ I took the article and read. It was an article in the International Business Times in July 2015. It reported that the Prime Minister had met with the CEOs of a media company. The purpose of the meeting was allegedly to prevent the broadcast of a TV series about the Scottish Rebellion of 1746 before the referendum on Scottish independence. It seems that a request has been made to postpone the broadcast. I later found on his desk a copy of an article from ‘The Scotsman’, which also covered the subject in detail.” Groide and Jamie looked at each other and smiled. Both men nodded, but said nothing.

"Frankly," Claire continued, "I hadn't given the matter any thought at all. In the five years before, I had been mainly busy finishing my medical studies and gaining experience as a doctor. You don't have much time to worry about other things. Besides, due to my, well, somewhat non-conformist upbringing, I was never so much confined to one country alone ..."

"How is it that despite medical school, your husband still refers to you as..." Groide is looking for words, "intellectually... weaker...?” "Frank believes that medical school would consist largely of memorizing the contents of textbooks. He thought that people's bodies were somehow all the same and that if you had learned the appropriate forms of treatment, then you could treat them. He never understood the diversity and complexity of the human body and how medical science reacts to it." "Did your husband explain his duties for the MI5 to you?" "When I told him that Scotland's history, and Scotland's ambitions for independence, were well known, he told me not to think so superficially. He said that historians are not only concerned with the past. They can also make predictions about the future to a certain extent, based on their knowledge. I should think about what the clan system had meant and still means to the Scots. Why did the English central government everything to destroy it after the Jacobite uprising of 1746? England should not allow a united counter-power to be formed again in the north of the country. He was probably particularly concerned about this lobby group, One Banner for all Scots, which had formed the year before."

"Scottish Independence" by Emphyrio Claire was focused on Ferdinand Groide and the recording equipment in front of her. She didn't see Jamie's face become more and more thoughtful.

"Mrs. Beauchamp, all this is interesting, but... not very specific." "At first, I too got to know only general things. It only became more specific later when I did... well, my own... research. "You did your own research?" Groide suddenly seemed interested again. Jamie tried not to smile. What seemed like a minor revelation to his friend only confirmed what he had been thinking all along. Claire was an intelligent, strong woman. Her strength might have been broken for a time by what her husband had done to her. But Jamie was sure that she would find her way back to that strength. And he vowed to himself that he would do everything he could to help her. "I thought Frank was a braggart for a long time, but... I can't describe it exactly. Something had caught my interest. Then a colleague asked me if I would trade a weekly shift with her. She would have had a night shift, but her babysitter was unavailable. I agreed and that same afternoon I went to the university library and borrowed books on Scottish history and the independence movement. The department where I was on night duty was not very labour-intensive. I had a lot of time to read and think during the nights of that week." She paused for a moment. "After that week, I became aware of the urgency of the issue." Groide didn't say anything, but his gaze urged her to continue. "National self-determination. Well, there's no need to explain that further. Scotland's oil. 64% of Europe's oil reserves are on Scottish territory. They're said to be worth 4 trillion pounds. Then there is the issue of renewable energy. I mean Scotland has 25 % of Europe's wind energy potential, 25 % of Europe's tidal energy potential and 10 % of Europe's wave energy potential. I do not have to tell you that these are also enormous financial potentials." A fine smile appeared on Groide's face. "And then, of course, there is the question of nuclear disarmament: with control of defence and foreign policy, an independent Scotland could tackle the elimination of Trident nuclear weapons, an issue long associated with the campaign for an independent Scotland. Trident class submarines carrying missiles with 120 nuclear warheads are based at the Clyde naval base near Glasgow. In the event of Scottish independence, England would have to withdraw these weapons and revise its defence strategy. I imagine that would be a thorn in the side of the American allies as well. There will certainly be a lot of diplomatic pressure behind the scenes." Claire took a deep breath. "Now you're going to tell me that this is all public information and I would agree with you. But I wasn't aware of it before. These informations woke me up. It took a while but when I had the opportunity to take on another week of night shifts I immediately agreed. In this time I developed a kind of plan. I was eager to find out if Frank's statement was true. At first I tried to track when he was going to conferences or work meetings. Not all of them, but several of them took him to England and Scotland. I can't prove it, but I had the impression that his travels became more frequent at times when 'the Scottish theme' was boiling up. Later, after 2015, and particularly after the brexite, his travels intensified.” To Jamie's surprise, Claire reached into her handbag, which she had hung on the back of her chair, and pulled out a piece of paper she handed over to Ferdinand Groide.

"Tea" by Pexels "This is a list of all the trips my husband has taken since 2013. supposedly for reasons of his work as a historian." Groide skimmed the list, then put it aside. "Thank you very much. We will try to verify the data." "In the weeks that followed, I voluntarily took several weeks of night duty. Because there was another advantage to this. I was at home while my husband was at university and could look through his records almost undisturbed."

"Will you share the knowledge you have gained from this?" "Yes. But perhaps we could have some tea?" Claire replied as she looked at Jamie. "Certainly." He got up and left the room. Ferdinand Groide pressed the 'stop' button on the recorder. Then he got up and stretched a bit. Claire did the same.

#14DaysofOutlander #From Boston to Berlin in 14 Hours #Outlander #Outlander fan Fiction #Boston #Berlin #Claire Beauchamp #Jamie Fraser #Frank Randall #Jonathan Randall #Ian Murray #Jenny Murray

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barry-j-blupjeans · 4 years

Text

TAZ Balance Fic Recs

I’m making this 90% because I love these fics and the world needs to know and 10% because I need help finding them once I’ve read them. Let’s begin!! (I will not be tagging authors because I only know a few writers on this list, but if anyone else wants to tag them, feel free :>)

Refractory - Written by Nesswrites on Ao3 - Rated T

Refractory adj. (rih-frack-tuh-ree) 1. Stubborn or unmanageable. 2. Resistant to a process or stimulus.

Kravitz, a young orthopedic surgeon, is thrust into what feels like a different reality when he meets psychiatric patient, Taako. In a strange flurry of events, he finds himself being drawn toward this man, spending more and more time in a department that he used to hate and becoming invested in a patient who isn't one of his own.

Taako, an in-denial anorexia patient, is forced into a long-term hospital stay by friends and family who worry about his waning health. When he meets an attractive doctor from another wing, he begins to wonder if maybe this was the star-crossed love that he was always destined for. At least, that's what hundreds of episodes of Grey's Anatomy taught him.

In other words, the hospital drama nobody wanted but everyone got

I just really love this fic, guys, there’s not a lot I can say. It’s well written

Bury the Lead - Written by marywhale on Ao3 - Rated T

Taako’s senior year at Neverwinter High could be going better. Faced with a choice between joining the school’s floundering newspaper or being expelled, he opts for a career in journalism.

Lucretia, the paper’s editor, kind of wishes he'd gone the other way.

As the first TAZ fic I ever read in my life, this was really good. Even if it wasn’t the first fic I ever read, I still would love it. It captivated me in a way I didn’t think fics could.

Seven Raptors - Written by DragonWrites on Ao3 - Rated M

In a distant plane, Fate brings together seven scientists and explorers, who set out to explore the unknown and find themselves on a mission to save all of existence.

In another, far harsher plane, Fate brings those same seven together again. But these Seven Birds have been shaped by a crueler, much less forgiving world. These Seven Raptors are the villains in their story.

And when the two flocks meet, each of the Seven Birds must come face to face with who they might have been--who they might still become--if they let the darkness consume them.

I’ve had an idea in my head for a while of the birds meeting themselves but on a different plane? And this fic makes that idea so much more than I ever thought it could be. The first chapter really drew me in and I read it all in one night (with help from insomnia).

More below the cut!!

Serendipity and it’s inconspicuous faults - Written by TasteofDeath of Ao3 - Rated G

The morning after Angus comes home with a sore tummy and a stomach bug, things are starting to get better.

Or, Angus’ fathers have a fun time loving their little boy and a not so fun time worrying about his health

This is absolutely the cutest fic I’ve ever read. It made me tear up but in the good way. Also everything by TasteofDeath is amazing, check them out.

From the blackest room - Written by FordRiverBlues - Rated M

The authorities on a new plane mistake Barry for an enemy spy. They want information he doesn't have. Barry just wants to survive.

What can I say, I like angst. I’ve spent long hours thinking about this fic. Barry is a comfort character of mine and apparently I love seeming my comfort characters going through hard stuff. It’s just a good fic, my dudes.

The Sweetest, Dorkiest Love - Written by ceilingfan5 - Rated G

Anxious about giving Taako the perfect Valentine's present, Kravitz trades Lup two weeks of night shifts so she'll teach him how to make chocolates. It doesn't go as planned, but love wins out anyway.

Okay listen. I just said I liked angst buuUUUT - Heck, this fic is so soft and I really love and it made me cry because they’re just so soft.

All the Things You Prayed For - Written by anonymousAlchemist and marywhale - Rated T

Taako's been dead for two years. Taako's been dead for seven decades. Depends how you count it.

Her brother is dead and Lup’s a whole lifetime into the future. It’s a brave new world out there and she’s trying not to think about it too hard. She gets the feeling that if she starts thinking, she won’t ever stop, and she can’t afford to be out of commission. She's the only Captain America the new century’s got.

Lup is Cap, Taako fell from a train, and eventually all ghosts come in from the cold. You guessed it—it's a TAZ/Marvel shakeup baby. We're bringing the party to you.

If you’ve been anywhere on tumblr, you’ve heard some mention of this fic and for good reason!! I’m not into any superhero stuff so it took a while to read it because I didn’t think I’d understand it. But honestly? You don’t need to know anything about any superhero to read this. It’s written excellently and I really like it.

It's Difficult To Learn About Yourself When You Didn't Know You Could - Written by Casual_Scribbles - No rating

He licks his lips, running his knuckle along the spiral binding of his notebook. “I was reading my Caleb Cleaveland books – some of the newer ones, where he's a teenager – and one of the characters that were introduced was, um, they’re nonbinary. And I- I've heard of that before, but I didn't know a lot about it, so I looked it up.” He looks up and Miss Lup is listening to him attentively, her ears perked up. She nods at him.

“And I found out- I thought it was just one thing, ma'am,” he feels bolder, having seen the encouragement on her face. “But it's not. It’s a lot- it's so many things, Miss Lup! And I was looking through them and I just- some of them felt really familiar. Like- like I knew exactly what the writer was trying to say and I-”

(They'd been more than familiar. They'd been-)

No. They weren’t his.

Angus struggles to come to terms with something new he learns about himself, but thankfully his family is there to support him.

Non-binary Angus!!! Non-binary Angus!!!!!!! That’s all I have to say!!! Read it!!!!

Back to Wonderland - Written by OhWowAltMal - Rated G

When lich twins Edward and Lydia pull a trick far too convincing for Taakos liking, he may have found himself panicking and making some rash decisions. Just a little, though.

He definitely doesn't break the umbrastaff in half, looking for his (real?) sister.

An alternative look at the live show in Orleans, and how it could have gone.

This idea was something I didn’t even think of but I love it so much?? Half of me wishes this is what really happened, but they write the characters so well that it feels like it did.

I Know I've Kissed You Before - Written by Desiree_Harding - Rated T

"He thinks, one day, that maybe what he’s been feeling is the urge to show Kravitz, really show him, how much Taako cares about him. To make it… official. That he’s not going anywhere. Because Kravitz doesn’t live off of implications like Taako does, and maybe Taako’s a little tired of making him translate.

Maybe Taako wants to do a little bit of the work for him, just once."

AKA The story of how Taako and Kravitz got married alone in their kitchen on Candlenights (on purpose they swear)

This??? Is incredible?? It’s a (long winded but worth it) process of Taakitz proposing. I have no words, truly.

Six Years - Written by WritingIsMyCoffee and zumbah_plumbah - Rated T

Six years ago, Taako was kicked out of culinary school for an altercation between him and his roommate, forever crushing his lifelong dream of becoming a chef.

Six years ago, Merle was fiddling with the ring on his finger that he no longer needed to wear.

Six years ago, Magnus was sitting beside a hospital bed and holding his wife's hand.

Now, Taako is burdened with the struggles of raising a ten year old. Merle is wondering whether or not he wants that ring to become an obligation. Magnus is struggling to overcome the grieving process. For the past six years, the three of them have been running away from their problems and the reasons that brought them to where they currently are. Now they will be forced to face the music and deal with what happened in the past in order to move on.

FUCK!!! Fuck this made me cry?? I really like it. I really really like it. It’s so raw and emotional. All the characters fit perfectly.

synecdoche - Written by androids_fighting93 - Rated M

Echoes of the seven of them stretch into infinity, and now there’s Kravitz, a parallel line that they keep crossing despite all physical laws. Taako can see how they are bound together, he and Lup and the rest of the crew, white shimmering cords that stretch between them, between himself and Kravitz, and every aspect of Kravitz and every aspect of the Raven Queen in every world, all existing simultaneously. The Light falling to countless worlds at once, the Hunger descending over it all, the same patterns into infinity and nothing to stop it except for a silver ship, a bright beacon, unique among it all. He can see all of it.

They’re hunted by two immensely powerful creatures now, the Hunger and the Raven Queen’s servant. It's too bad Taako can't seem to stay out of harm's way.

I read this again recently and it broke my heart all over again. The idea is wonderful, the writing is even better. Please go read this fic!!!

#vic speaks #taz balance #taz #taz fic #taz fic rec #The Adventure Zone #the adventure zone balance

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resident-of-storybrooke · 5 years

Text

Under the Mistletoe

Rated: We’ll go with M for language

9.6k words...apparently I was making up for lost time this year lol

Read: AO3 or fanfic or wattpad

Summary: Killian is Emma’s favorite barista. Emma is Killian’s favorite customer. But what if Killian wants more and Emma needs a date to take home for the holidays? Will they get burnt, or will they be brewing in love?

AN: I am excited to finally share, @nevertothethird, tis I your Secret Santa!!! It has been an absolute joy getting to talk to you these last few weeks. I hope you have an epic road trip, and I hope that you enjoy your gift. This the first proper thing I’ve written all year and boy does it feel good to write again. Thank you @cssecretsanta2k19 for putting this all together, blessed to be a part of the event for the third year now. And MASSIVE thank you to @kymbersmith-90 for beta-ing the hell out of this bad boy for me, couldn’t have done this without you, my friend!

tagging some of the fam squad (I don’t have a tag list, please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed): @kymbersmith-90 @let-it-raines @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @hookedonapirate @carpedzem @nowforruin @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic @thesschesthair @doodlelolly0910 @welllpthisishappening @flslp87

Please enjoy and ALL THE LOVE!!!

Killian would rip the bloody chimes down if he knew that Belle wouldn't be pissed about it. Every time someone comes in or out of the coffee shop, the light tinkling sounds acts as a reminder. A reminder that he lost Liam eleven years ago. A reminder that he fled England the year after spiraling without his brother. He doesn't hate his job; honestly, it's not a bad gig; he’s thankful that Belle took pity on a fellow expat and gave him the opportunity. It just that sometimes listening to peoples' ridiculous coffee orders annoys him - hence why he spends most of his time in the back baking. Well, that was until she walked in a few weeks ago.

He didn't know much, only that her name was Emma and she liked to order the same drink every time, never once considering anything else. Sometimes she splurged on a baked good that always seemed to align with the days that Killian had spent baking. He always took pride in his work, but ever since Emma walked in, he had upped his game.

Killian didn't believe in love at first sight, but there was something there he couldn't deny it. She was a ray of sunshine in his otherwise dull rainy days. The first time Emma had stopped in all those months ago, Killian swore his heart had skipped a beat. That Tuesday had felt like any other day, until she’d stepped through the door. The shop wasn’t overly crowded or loud that day, but there seemed to be this peace she brought into the room with her. Killian might have been too distracted by his haze of admiration to actually listen to her order. It wasn't until he’d heard her laugh that he realized she was laughing at him.

"Uh...um, wow...yeah, sorry, love. What can I get for you?"

She stepped closer to the counter, acting like he couldn't hear her giving him an out. "Can I have a large hot chocolate with whipped cream and cinnamon on top, please?"

"Cinnamon? Really?" Killian usually didn't care much to interact with his customers. Still, he knew this was a fleeting moment and he was going to do everything in his power to enjoy every second of it.

"Yeah, it adds a nice little kick.."

"Ah, well, perhaps I'll have to give it a try myself, love." Killian knew he could be charming, but he also knew he laying it on a little thick at that moment. However, that didn't seem to bother Emma as her cheeks soon had the loveliest shade of blush gracing them.

"Name?"

"If I tell you mine, you have to tell me yours. Deal?"

Killian couldn't help the grin that overtook his face. "Aye, we have an accord."

"Emma. My name is Emma."

"Emma...beautiful." Then he heard her laugh again and realized like a git he’d said her name aloud. "Uh, sorry about that. I didn't mean -"

"No worries…"

It took him a moment to remember side of the deal. "Killian, the name is Killian Jones." He reached out his hand, and thankfully Emma gave him hers, but instead of shaking it like a normal man would have, Killian brought her hand to his lips, and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it.

They only interacted briefly. Killian made sure to take her order and that he was the one to serve her as well. He didn't normally do that for anyone else. The moment Belle caught on, she teased him relentlessly; however, she never got in the way of Killian's fleeting moments with Emma. Belle was a good boss and an event better friend for that.

He wished that one day he would grow a pair and actually talk to Emma, beyond taking her order, maybe one day. And perhaps that day was coming soon....

Emma entered with a huff and went right to her seat. Somehow, it was always empty whenever she came in. Killian grabbed her usual and a chocolate cinnamon cookie because she seemed to need something sweet. But as he walked over, he realized she was on the phone.

"Yeah...no...of course...I'll be home. Yeah yeah yeah, I know, Ruth. I'll make sure to bring him too. I know you're excited to meet him. He's excited to meet you all."

Killian felt his heart fall. She was with another man. The fantasy of a future with Emma finally came crashing down. He almost dropped the cup of hot chocolate and ran off, but managed to hold himself together long enough to set it down on her table. Right before he could make an escape for the backroom, Emma grabbed his arm.

"Killian, here, let me pay you for this." As she reached into her purse, Killian tried to ignore the spark that ignited inside of him at the feel of her hand on his arm.

"It's on the house, love." She looked up, thankful, to say the least.

"But Killian, are you sure?"

"Aye, you're here enough; you've earned a free treat. Besides, it sounds like you have a lot going on. It’s the least I could do."

Emma's face fell in confusion and then she seemed to realize what he meant. "Oh, the phone call? Yeah, my mom is expecting me to bring my boyfriend home."

Killian tried not to let that crush him; obviously, she was distressed and needed to share her burdens with someone. He just didn't understand why it needed to be him. "What seems to be the problem? Does he not want to meet your family?”

"Ha, God, I wish. No, um, you see I - oh God, it's gonna sound so stupid - I lied about having a boyfriend." Killian stood there in shock. "Ruth, my mother, is great and everything, but she’s been begging me to bring home a guy for a while now. I skipped out on Thanksgiving for a case, in favor of going home. And instead of telling her that, I may have lied and said I was staying here with my boyfriend."

"The boyfriend that doesn't exist, right?"

"Yeah, way to keep up there, Jones. So...I don't have a boyfriend and apparently, Ruth is organizing some massive holiday party where I am expected to make a debut with him. And I'm slowly realizing that this was probably the stupidest thing I could have ever come up with. I mean, I'm a grown woman. I should've just told her the truth. And now I have to go back home - without a boyfriend - and deal with -"

"I can go."

"What did you just say?

Killian realized that his brain must no longer be connected to his mouth, because only an idiot would have said he would go. But then he saw the look on Emma’s face. There was something in her eyes - maybe it was hope - or maybe it was desperation. He hoped it was the former.

“I said,” he sat down next to her, “I would be more than willing to go home with you, Emma.” Her eyes immediately met his, and she could tell he was serious about his offer.

“Killian, that’s sweet but we barely know each other. My brother is going to be there. He’s a cop. Actually - a detective. He’s good at sniffing out the truth so he’ll through the charade the moment we step through the door.”

“I know, love. But maybe I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to learn more about you.” Emma looked away as she blushed. “I’m serious about my offer. I’d be more than happy to accompany you home and make this the best Christmas for you.”

“You’d really do that for me?”

Killian could see the tears in her eyes, barely held back. “Aye, love. I think you’ll find I’d do anything to make you smile.” He brought his thumb to her cheek and gently wiped the stray droplets away. “So, just who are you, Emma?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, chuckling as she tried to defuse the tension.

“Perhaps I would, love.”

Emma gave him a disarming smile - and that was when Killian knew he was in trouble.

CSCSCSCSCS

Killian had two weeks to learn everything possible about Emma Swan. The first thing he learned was that her last name was Swan, and he found that it fit her well. He’d also learned that she was a bail bonds person, she liked dogs and cats (but dogs more) and she looked up to David (her brother) more than anyone else. Killian had shared that he had been in the Royal Navy with his brother; and that he missed home (but he preferred the weather here in Boston). And, of course, that he enjoyed a glass of rum every now and then.

The drive from Boston to Storybrooke, Maine wasn’t long per se, but nonetheless, Emma was a bit on edge. Killian tried his best to keep her calm during the six-hour car ride. Seeing Emma at ease, without a care in the world, was sublime. He could tell it was something she rarely got to experience, and now it was his mission in life to give her the moments more often.

After their rousing version of carpool karaoke that would put James Cordon to shame, they decided to finalize their cover story once more.

“We met at a Fourth of July party where-”

“Where you just found me too irresistible and-”

“You wish.”

Killian took his eyes off the road for a moment to gaze upon Emma. “Aye, love,” he agreed, and added a wink for good measure.

Emma rolled her eyes and continued their fib of a love story. “You just happened to work at the local coffee shop around the corner from my place...”

“And eventually you realized I’m a dashing rapscallion that you couldn’t live without.” Emma gave another of her non-infamous eye rolls and Killian added, “Scoundrel?” He could see Emma tense up suddenly, and Killian realized that perhaps he had made her uncomfortable. “Love, I’m sorry if I crossed a line. I was merely jesting.”

He peeked over to see she was looking out the window, lost in thought. Four songs, not that Killian counted, played before she spoke. “It’s not that, Killian. It’s just...do you think we can do this? We have to make my family believe that we’re halfway in love with one another for the next week. Are you really ready to commit to that?”

Little did she know, Killian thought, he was more than halfway in love - if not already there himself. But he still took a moment to consider the consequences of their silly little plot, and how they would be greater for Emma than for himself. He pulled off to the side of the road and said, “Emma, I swear to you I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I didn’t believe in us. I promise I will do everything in my power to make you feel comfortable these next few days, and to be the best date you could ever bring home.”

Killian held his breath as Emma stared at him. He could see the caution in her eyes, the weariness of the whole nefarious scheme. But then he saw it. There was hope in her eyes. Maybe it was reflected from his, but he swore at this moment, Emma believed they could do this.

She didn’t say a word, merely nodded her head, and Killian got the car back onto the road. The rest of the drive went without a hitch. In fact, they were a little ahead of schedule when they arrived in Storybrooke.

“Would you, um...like to see where I grew up?” Emma said, a bit unsure of how to act now that they had arrived.

“I would be honored to learn more about your beginnings, love.” Emma gave him the same tentative smile from earlier and directed him around the small town.

Killian felt an odd sense of familiarity, as they explored the town. Storybrooke reminded him of the village he grew up in back in England. As they drove around, Emma pointed out some of her favorite places. The first being Granny’s, a diner that apparently had the best grilled cheese and onion rings Emma had ever tasted. She also showed him the sheriff’s station, where she may or may not have spent some “time” after being caught with a boy underneath the bleachers in the wee hours of the night. Emma shared the story of how Ruth had let her off easy after being left in the cell for ten minutes. Emma had been worried Ruth would kick her out, but apparently, she had just laughed, and suggested Emma find a different venue - and better yet, a different boy. Killian chuckled at that. He already owed a debt to Ruth for finding his Swan and giving her a home, but he could see this woman had changed Emma’s life in many different ways, and for that, he could never repay her.

As their little tour came to an end, Killian pulled up to Ruth’s house, and Emma began to fidget in her seat once more. “Swan, it’ll be okay,” he promised. She simply stared at the house in silence. “Emma, I promise it’ll be the best week of your life. I’ll do everything in my power to make it so.”

Just as Killian made a move to unbuckle his seatbelt, Emma leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. Both instantly turned red at the display of affection, and Killian realized they needed to get this out of their system if they were going to convince everyone they’d been dating for months.

After climbing out of the car, Killian moved confidently around the trunk to grab their suitcases. When Emma began to protest, Killian told her it was what a good boyfriend would do before he shot her a cheeky wink and then headed for the door.

They didn’t get the chance to ring the doorbell. Ruth had already opened the door and pulled Emma in for a hug when Killian made it to the doorstep. He took a moment to enjoy seeing Emma with someone who cared so deeply for her, and whom she cared for as well.

“Ah, well, don’t you think you should introduce me to your man here, Beans?”

Killian swore he heard Emma grumble at the embarrassing nickname, and he very much looked forward to hearing the story behind it. “Ruth, this is Killian Jones. Killian, this is my mother, Ruth.” As Killian reached his hand out, Ruth completely bypassed it and went right for a hug. Killian had lost his mother when he was a lad, so the maternal display of affection was unfamiliar but not unwanted.

“M’lady, it is a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said as he reached for her hand once more and placed a kiss on her knuckles.

“Oh, now I see why Emma’s been hiding you away. You are far too charming for your own good.”

Killian was unsure if the woman meant it as a jest or was somehow already seeing through their facade. He stood there with a nervous smile.

“Speaking of charming, where’s David and Mary Margaret?” Killian was thankful for Emma’s quick thinking. He needed to chill out if they were ever going to make this work.

“Oh, they’re already inside. Come on in, you two!”

As Killian stepped inside the old Victorian home, he couldn’t help but feel that this was a loving home full of special memories. When he made his way out of the foyer, he saw the wall - practically a shrine - full of photographs of Emma and David. The pictures of Emma only started in her teens after Ruth adopted her, but there were just as many of her as there were of David.

Killian only got to enjoy those for a moment, as Emma tugged on his arm to continue into the living room. Inside there was there he saw a man around his height with sandy brown hair and to his left, a much smaller woman with a pixie haircut dancing around. Killian recognized David instantly from the pictures in the hallway, and he knew that the woman dancing was Mary Margaret - David’s very pregnant wife. The two seemed to be lost in their own world as he entered the room, but the moment. As soon as Mary Margaret caught a glimpse of them, she ran over to Emma, nearly tackling her with the force of her hug.

“Oh, jeez, M’s! I didn’t know that baby bump was part bulldozer! A little warning next time.”

Mary Margaret laughed at Emma’s comment. “Well, you see Emma, it has many perks. The best being a table for when I’m sitting.”

The two women started to gab about the pregnancy and life in Storybrooke, which left Killian awkwardly standing there. Ruth handed him a drink, which he believed it was eggnog (he’d never had it before). While he sipped his drink, Killian stood there watching Emma enjoy reuniting with her family. Though he had always been able to tell that she had a kind heart, Emma definitely kept it hidden from most of the world. Killian relished the thought of being the one to put her heart out there, and hoped that she wouldn’t feel the need to hide from him.

He was interrupted from his musings when David stood from his seat to approach the newcomer.

“David Nolan, Emma’s big brother. It’s nice to meet you.”

Killian reached his hand out. “Killian Jones. It’s nice to meet you as well, mate.”

“So, Killian, how long have you been with my sister?”

Killian tried to keep his composure, as this was the first real test to see if he and Emma could make it through the week without an incident.

“Well, you know your sister, mate. It can take her a minute to trust someone. I recently moved to the area-”

“From England?”

“Ah, though the accent may say otherwise, I have lived in the States for nearly a decade now. But I’ve, I just moved to Boston to work at my friend’s coffee shop. I’m the baker. Emma’s actually frequent flyer there, and we just started chatting a bit. She was kind enough to show me around the city, and I help her with her perps sometimes. Realized we were practically dating-”

“And I realized that I’d found a good one, and I should hold onto him for a bit. Maybe, haha.” Emma had come from nowhere and wrapped her arms around him. For a moment, Killian wished this was more than pretend, that Emma wanted to be with him and wasn’t just doing this for show. However, he knew he needed to get it together if they were ever going to make it through this week, and have some form of friendship after it was over.

As if on instinct, Killian leaned down slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head. He heard Emma’s breath hitch and tried not to take it personally.

The answer seemed to appease David enough for the moment.

“Oh, I forgot to show you to your room! Sorry about that, Killian. Follow me and we can get your things up to Emma’s old room.” Ruth seemed excited to show Killian the rest of the home.

“Oh, I can show him the room, Ruth. There’s no need for you to go up there for that!”

Emma grabbed his arm and practically dragged Killian, up the stairs to the bedroom. That’s when he realized why she was so insistent on showing him his room alone. It was their room. They would be forced to share Emma’s childhood bed for the week.

“Swan, I can take-”

“I’ll take the floor.”

“Love, it’s more than fine. What kind of gentleman would I be if I made you sleep on the floor? That’s not an option.”

“Killian, you’re already doing all of this. The least I could do is sleep on the ground.”

Before Emma could get another word out, David barged into the room, almost as if he anticipated interrupting something. “What do you want, David?”

“Mom just wanted me to grab you, dinner is ready,” he was silent for a beat before he turned his attention towards an extremely nervous Killian. “I’m watching you, Jones,” was all he said, before he left the room.

“Sorry about that. They really don’t believe in personal space in this house.”

“Ah, which is why, and only why, I suggest we may have to share the bed.” Emma immediately opened her mouth to argue with him when Killian stopped her. “Love, you just said they don’t respect boundaries, even in the bedroom. What are they to believe when they see you in the bed and me on the floor? That’s only going to lead to more lies and headaches. I promise, Swan, I’ll completely respect your boundaries if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

“It’s not that, it’s just...I don’t trust myself…”

“Afraid you won’t be able to keep your hands off me?”

“Actually, yes.”

Killian looked at Emma, as she stood on the opposite side of the bed. The distance felt much further. He could tell that she had instantly regretted saying that, but he wouldn’t let her for another moment.

“Emma, I won’t deny my nerves as well, but I believe that we can both be adults here. As I said, I would never put you in a situation that made you feel anything less than comfortable. If you’re truly unsure, I’m willing to sleep on the floor and set an alarm to get into bed just in case they barge in.”

“No, no, that’s silly. Like you said, we’re both adults. We can share. Now come on, it’s time for dinner.”

“As you wish.”

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The rest of the first night continued without a hitch, most of the attention on Mary Margaret given that she was nearly the end of her pregnancy, as the baby was due in February. David remained silent throughout most of the dinner, continuously eyeing Killian, but he tried to ignore the other man’s suspicion.

The first night in bed, however, was anything but comfortable. Both tried to act as though the other was not there and continue with their normal bedtime rituals. But the silence was unnerving, and neither of them knew how to relieve the tension. Killian didn’t help when he removed his Henley, and Emma saw him shirtless for the first time. He hadn’t thought that through because when he turned around to face her, Emma couldn’t hide her gaping mouth and wide eyes. He wouldn’t lie, it felt good to have an affect on her. Killian knew he was a handsome man, but he hadn’t been concerned about female attention in a long time now - not until Emma had walked into his life. He saw the blush rise in her cheeks and though he wished he could see how far that blush went, he decided it was probably best that he put a shirt on.

Emma was the first to break the silence. “Um, what side of the bed would you like?”

“Whichever side you do not prefer, love. I have no qualms, either way, I assure you.”

“Do you always talk like that?”

“Like what, Swan?”

“Like you’re much older than you actually are. Like you’ve just stepped out of some Jane Austen novel?” Emma finally made her way into the bed, and Killian slide in next to her.

“I’ve talked this way since I was a wee lad. I guess it stuck with me. Does it make you uncomfortable? Would you rather me say ‘Psh, you can pick whatever side you want, boo?’”

Emma lost it at his horrible American accent and rolled over to laugh in his face - but froze when she saw how close they were. “No, um, no, it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. It’s just...I...I’ve never met anyone like you, Killian Jones.”

Emma locked eyes with him, and he saw it again, that hope was back from earlier in the day. “Aye, love, I’m one of a kind.” Killian could still sense her nerves so he suggested, “Perhaps we should get some shut-eye? I think I heard that we’re going Christmas tree shopping in the morning. David said he was going to put my muscles to the test, whatever that means.”

“Oh, he’s gonna see if you can carry the tree by yourself - which you won’t be able to. And neither can he. I’m sorry he’s coming off like such a-”

“Like a big brother? It’s nothing to fret over love; my brother was the same way.”

“Wait, you have a brother?”

Killian cursed himself for letting that slip out. “I had a brother. Liam, he passed away about a decade ago.”

Emma fell silent for a moment before she said, “You told David you moved here ten years ago.”

It wasn’t a question, but Killian knew what she meant, “Aye. I left England after his death. I couldn’t be there anymore. He was the only family I had left, and it was just too much being there without him. I made my escape and never looked back.”

“Do you miss it?”

Killian took a deep breath in, “I miss him. I miss the trouble we got into as lads and the pub that was on the corner of our street,” that got a laugh from Emma. But I do not wish to move back. I’ve found a home here, and some people I truly care for.”

“I’m sorry about Liam. if you ever want to talk about him, I hope you know I’m here for you.”

“Thank you, Emma. I appreciate that greatly, perhaps one day I’ll share a tale or two with you.”

“I look forward to it. Sleep well, Killian.”

“You as well, love.”

He’d never meant to share that part of his life with Emma. Not right now. However, he couldn’t help but feel relieved that she’d welcomed him to share his stories. It was almost like she genuinely cared for him. So, Killian fell asleep with a smile on his face and a heart full of hope that perhaps this wasn’t going to be a big mistake.

The mistake, in this case, happened when Killian woke up. Emma was using him as a pillow and their legs were intertwined. He finally had her in his arms and Killian relished that moment. She looked so at ease and comfortable, almost like she was meant to be there and he was meant to hold her.

Then she awoke.

Emma’s peaceful smile quickly fled, and panic took over her, the blush rising once more, as she stuttered an apology.

“I assure you love, I have no issues with being a body pillow. Perhaps though, I should wear a shirt where your drool-”

“I do not drool!”

“The stain on my shirt proves otherwise, my dear.”

“Well, I...uh...shit, sorry I’ll just go get ready.”

Killian quickly reached for her hand to diffuse any concerns she had. “I promise, love, it’s not anything to fuse over. I was merely making a joke.” He held onto her hand as she nodded, and then bent forward to place a gentle kiss on her hand, just as he’d done the first time they met. Emma, still in some form of shock or panic, freed her hand and then hurried from the room to get ready for the day.

Killian fell back onto the bed moaning, thankful she’d missed the part of his body that also seemed to enjoy her close proximity. He needed to take care of that at some point, but perhaps not in her childhood bed. Killian decided to make his way downstairs, and he would bring Emma some hot chocolate as a peace offering. Peace from what, though? From him? He continued to war with himself until he heard a voice.

“What do we know about him? I mean really, she didn’t tell you his name until a week ago!”

“David, that’s enough! He seems to be a charming young man who cares about your sister.”

“So did the last one, and look how that ended! I don’t trust him. Something’s going on between the two of them and I don’t like it.”

“Exactly, David, something is going on between them and it’s something serious. I know she’s your sister but she’s also a grown woman. She can make her own choices and Killian seems to be a good one. Did you see how he was looking at her? It’s the same way you look at me, David. He loves your sister that much is obvious. And I don’t think it’s one-sided.”

“What do you mean, Mary Margaret? You think she, that she…”

“You can say it, David. I think your sister loves Killian - if not yet, then she’s getting there. I’ve known her for a long time, and I’ve never seen her like this. Not with Walsh, August, or even Neal.”

Killian was torn on what to do at that moment. Obviously, this was a conversation not intended for his ears. He couldn’t help but wonder what Mary Margaret was hinting on about with Emma’s ex-lovers, but now was not the time for him to ask.

A lull in their conversation finally gave him the proper time to make his presence known.

“Good morning everyone.” Killian tried to act normally and not as if that conversation was going to replay in his mind for the remainder of the day.

“Oh, good morning, Killian. How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock, love. And you? I hope the babe is letting you get some rest before he makes their grand entrance.”

“Ah, he was kicking up a storm last night so not too much sleep. Would you like some coffee?”

“Actually, I was coming down to make Emma some hot chocolate. Do you happen to have some chocolate in the house?”

“Are you going to make it from scratch?”

“Aye, I never give her the premade stuff. I know better than to get in the way of Emma and her sweets.”

“Smart man,” David said, finally acknowledging Killian’s presence. Mary Margaret grabbed everything he would need without question, Killian went to work quickly on the hot chocolate. He made sure to add her cinnamon on top, and everyone in the room seemed impressed that he’d remembered it.

Just as he was finishing, Emma came into the kitchen and went right for the cup without a second thought, she pushed herself onto her toes and kissed Killian on the cheek. The group made breakfast together, except for Emma who was a well-known disaster in the kitchen. Killian enjoyed his time with Mary Margaret and Ruth. He’d always had a knack for cooking and baking, so Killian felt at ease for the first time all day.

As they finished their meal and put away the leftovers, David and Emma started prepping the living room for the tree. They bickered back and forth on what size they wanted versus what would work in the room.

“Yes, they’ve always been like this.” Ruth said as she came from upstairs.

Killian was caught off guard by the comment, “Seems as though they love each other, regardless of their differences opinions on Christmas trees.”

“This is nothing. You should’ve seen them when they were younger, lord, there were days that I questioned if I could handle two teens.”

“Though my opinion may not mean much on the matter, you obviously did an amazing job with the two of them. I know I’m biased when it comes to Emma, and I don’t know David well, but they both seem lucky to have had a mother such as yourself.”

“Thank you for saying that, Killian. Will I get a chance to meet your parents soon. They must be proud of having such a wonderful young man for a son.”

Emma and her family really had a knack for hitting on sensitive subjects, it seemed. “Unfortunately, my mother passed when I was eight and my father became overwhelmed by everything. He left my brother and me one night. Luckily, my brother was eighteen at the time and was able to gain custody of me. We lived together for about a decade until a drunk driver took his life.”

Ruth didn’t say anything and although Emma was not hers biologically, he could see the same look upon her face as when Killian had told Emma his story. “Well, please know you are always welcome to join our family. I’m happy that Emma’s found you. I think you’ll both be good for each other.”

“Aye,” Killian was overwhelmed by the woman’s kindness. “she’s the best thing I have in my life, if I’m honest.”

Thankfully, Emma came over and seemed to sense the tension, as when Killian reached his arm out for her, she instinctively curled into his side. Ruth smiled at the couple, truly delighted that her Emma found someone as wonderful as Killian.

Everyone gathered their coats and gloves and made their way to the van to head for the Christmas tree farm. David and Emma continued their conversation on which tree was the best and what size they were looking for. Killian enjoyed witnessing the small family moments and desperately wished he could have done the same with his mother and Liam.

When they arrived at the farm and had climbed out the van Emma reached for Killian’s hand. Even through the gloves he could still feel that spark. “Everything okay?” Emma asked.

“Aye, love. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It’s just, you’ve been really quiet since we left the house. Is it because of what happened this morning, cause-”

“Oh, no, love, it’s nothing like that. It’s just, I mean, I told you a bit about my past. But I’ve just never had a real Christmas tree before. It wasn’t something Liam and I felt was important when we lived together. And seeing you with your brother, arguing over which one to get, reminds me of what I’ve been missing out on for some time now.”

“Well, for this week, you’re a part of this family. So you can argue about the tree if you want.”

“Funny, your mother said the same thing.”

Emma pulled away for a moment. “My mother said what to you?”

“That I was a part of the family, or I could be, if I wanted to.”

“Do you?”

Killian paused for a moment, not because he needed to give it any thought but because he knew his answer could make Emma run. “Aye, love, I would be honored to be a part of anything with you.” He looked down at her and saw a single tear running down her face. When he reached out to wipe it away Emma grabbed onto his hand. He didn’t know why, but he had the urge to kiss her at that moment, and she didn’t look too opposed to the idea when he saw her eyes linger over his lips. Just as he started to move towards her, they were interrupted.

“You guys, you better hurry otherwise David will - oops sorry! I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. Maybe I can come back after you’ve had your...uh...moment?”

Killian sighed in defeat, “Perhaps we should get a move on, Swan? Don’t wanna hear you complaining about the tree not being perfect when we get back home.” Emma laughed and lightly shoved his chest.

The hunt for ‘The Great Christmas Tree of 2019’ was on, and Killian did everything in his power to ensure David wouldn’t hate him by the end of the day.

The two men bickered often, but it reminded him of the way he and Liam used to act. As the day went on, David eased up on him, and even offered to help carry the tree the van instead of making Killian hike it back himself.

It was when they’d finally gotten the tree home and started work on decorating it that Killian began to feel like this was where he was meant to be. That him offering to be Emma’s fake date was not a horrible idea but, in fact, the start of something great for them both.

Ruth announced that she was calling it an early night, and the couples decided to have a little movie marathon. David and Mary Margaret claimed the sofa so she could spread out, which left Emma and Killian with the love seat. It sat two comfortably, but only if the two were comfortable sitting close to one another. Killian tried to keep his composure as Emma laid the blanket over both of them their legs and snuggled. He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in a little closer - just to keep up the ruse.

Killian had no idea what movie they watched, all he was concerned with was Emma’s hand, which had been drawing nonsensical patterns on his stomach. He truly believed she had no idea what she was doing and when he looked at her, she stopped - but for a moment. When Killian kissed the crown of her head, her hand continued it’s patterns.

After the third or fourth movie, Killian realized that Emma was fast asleep at his side. David and Mary Margaret talked about putting on the next film, but Killian told them he was going to take Emma to bed. While he knew the logical idea was to wake her up, he didn’t want to disturb her peace. So, Killian carried her up the stairs and into their bedroom. When he gently placed her down on the bed, he saw her scrunch up her nose and put her hands out, as if she were looking for someone.

Killian quickly changed and go into bed. It only took a moment for Emma to curl into his side once more and when she did, Killian welcomed her into his arms.

When he woke the next morning, Killian found himself in a different position. Emma’s back was towards him and he, for all intents and purposes, was spooning her. One hand was wrapped around Emma (because apparently, he liked to cling to her possessively in his sleep) and the other was tucked under his head. It didn’t take long for Killian’s body to react to Emma’s close proximity. He tried to keep his thoughts pure; to think about literally anything else. But nothing seemed to distract him from the goddess in his arms.

Killian truly though he had slipped into some sort of alternate universe when he felt Emma move. It wasn’t to wake up; she was slowly grinding her body against his. He knew he was playing with fire, so he quickly detached himself from Emma, and decided that he would need a cold shower to try and diffuse the situation.

He tried to clear his head, but the feeling of Emma’s body against his was enough to lose his mind. Killian refused to find release in her bathroom. He wasn’t sure how much longer his body was going to handle the pent up tension. They had only arrived Saturday night, Christmas was Wednesday, and he needed to survive until after Ruth’s big Christmas party Friday evening.

When he finally regained his composure, Killian finished his shower and shut the water off. Just before he could reach for the towel, the door opened, and Killian slid the curtain back to hide from whoever had entered.

“Hello? Killian?” It was Emma, thank god, he thought.

“Aye, I was taking a shower.”

“Oh, shit, sorry! I didn’t hear the water and was confused about where you went.”

Killian poked his head out from behind the curtain. Emma was still in the bathroom, despite his current state of undress. “I just finished up, I’ll be out in a moment. I can make you some hot chocolate if you want, love?”

“I, uh...no...I’m good. I’ll, shit, I’ll just let you get dressed in peace. See you downstairs!”

Emma ran into the wall, and Killian chuckled until he realized why she was so discombobulated. He had apparently revealed more of himself than he thought, luckily his most private part was covered, but not much of anything else was.

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As the next two days went on, Killian and Emma continued to blur the lines, neither one shied away from affection in front of others, but they were also not afraid to remain close when they were alone. After the third night, Emma said she didn’t mind waking up in Killian’s arms. It wasn’t the most romantic phrasing, but Killian took it in stride. Hearing Emma admit that she was enjoying being close to him made him feel as though he wasn’t the only one who felt that connection between them.

Before they fell asleep on Christmas Eve, Killian heard Emma murmuring something to herself. He couldn’t make it out and decided it would be best not to ask her. He figured she would share whenever she was ready.

Christmas Day was overwhelming, to say the least. The house woke early, not to open gifts, but to drive to the town over and volunteer at a homeless shelter. Killian knew the family were good souls, and to see it in action reminded him that there was still goodness in the world.

After spending most of the early afternoon at the shelter, the group returned home and opened their gifts. Emma and Killian had given David and Mary Margaret some items off their baby registry that they hadn’t been gifted at the baby shower. Killian had gotten them an extra gift, much to Emma’s surprise, of a little pirate stuffed toy. At the looks of confusion over the small pirate, Killian explained how back home, everyone would gift a new baby a doll. He told the couple that an old wives’ tale said that the dolls were protect the child, and while people found it silly, David and Margaret seemed to appreciate the sentiment.

David and Mary Margaret had gotten Emma an Easy Bake Oven and a cookbook for dummies, everyone thought it was hysterical, even Emma. And since the couple did not know Killian well, they went off the basic knowledge that he was a baker and got him an apron that said: “This is my pretend I can bake apron.”

While everyone scattered to make cookies, Emma and Killian stayed by the tree.

“Oh, before I forget, I got you something, Killian.”

“Emma...you didn’t have to get me anything.”

She rolled her eyes at his protests, “I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” She handed him the small box wrapped perfectly neat with a bow on top. Killian was surprised to find a Christmas ornament shaped like the hook Captain hook would wear inside of it. “I remember you saying how much you loved that story and that he was your favorite.” Killian looked at the hook. He was in awe of the thoughtfulness of Emma’s gift. He didn’t know when she’d had time to find such a gift; as he’d only told her that story during their car ride to Storybrooke.

Emma sat there waiting for his response, he could see her fidgeting in anticipation. Without a second thought, Killian placed the gift back in the box and leaned forward for a kiss.

It was soft and sweet. Her lips felt just as he’d always imagined they would when pressed against his own. He pulled back, much too soon in his opinion, but Killian remembered where they were and why they were there. Emma still seemed to be in shock, but it only lasted for a moment and then she was leaning back in for another kiss. This time, Killian placed his hand on the back of her head, gently holding onto her golden locks. The kiss deepened slightly and was only stopped by some obnoxious coughing obviously coming from David.

The spell was broken, but Killian swore at that moment nothing had ever felt so right. The two got up and joined the others back in the kitchen to help with the cookies.

Killian was placed in charge as he was a baker by trade. The group followed his directions but decided to make it more interesting by doing a decoration competition, where Ruth would be the judge.

In the end, everyone presented their plates to Ruth. David had attempted to create a dog, like the one that was at the shelter he worked at, but it more so looked like a blob. Mary Margaret had decorated hers to be in the shape of a onesie for a baby. Killian had to admit he was rather impressed with her natural skill. Emma merely threw on every sprinkle and candy she could get her hands on. It was a mess, and Ruth was a bit concerned about the taste, but let it slide since it was Emma. Killian’s creation was the most realistic of the bunch. He designed his cookie to look like a mug filled with hot chocolate. But the design inside of the cup is what grabbed everyone’s attention. It was a swan.

Emma recognized it instantly, Killian had made a similar creation back in Boston. She looked up at him and found that he was blushing while scratching behind his ear. It was a nervous tick Emma recognized instantly. Killian won the design off, and by doing so was able to choose their dinner, Chinese food.

For the rest of the night, Killian was surprised to find Emma nearly glued to his side, it was not unwelcomed, and Killian decided to make the most of this gift.

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As the week progressed, Killian knew that at the end of all this madness, he was going to sit Emma down and explain his intentions. He loved her. It was that simple. He wanted to live a life where Emma was not just a part of it, but the star of it all. He had grown accustomed to waking up with her hair in his mouth and his arms wrapped around her. He loved how she was so thoughtful and kind to others. He had known for a while she was someone special, but this trip put in perspective that she was the most special person in his life, and he would do anything for her to see that.

Still, Killian was nervous that she only saw him as a friend. It terrified him that at the end of this, there was a possibility she could walk away without a second thought. He tried to keep those doubts buried, as there was no need to stress over something he couldn’t control. But that was easier said than done.

Tonight, was the town’s Christmas party, although gala was perhaps the more appropriate word. Everyone was there to help set up for the event. Killian was pleased when Emma introduced him to some of her high school friends. He found her group to be a mishmash of personalities and yet, they all fit perfectly together. There was Elsa, who was probably personality-wise the closest to Emma. Jasmine, who had also transferred in late like Emma, and then there was Ruby. Ruby was loud and her mind seemed to live in the gutter. Killian knew that if given a chance, they’d probably be great friends too.

At one point, David asked for Killian’s assistance on a task that clearly needed one person. Which suggested that the other man had an ulterior motive in asking for help.

“So, Killian, I think it’s time you and I have a little talk. What exactly are your intentions with my sister?”

Killian knew it was coming, but he was still caught a bit off guard at how abrasive David was being. He thought he had grown on the man throughout the week, but David’s stance demanded an answer from him. “My intentions are to make her happy, by whatever means necessary. I don’t need to tell you that she’s been through a lot. Her trusts means the world to me. Her heart is precious, and I intend to care for it as if it were my own. Your sister is the most important person in my life, and I wish to stay around for as long as she lets me.”

David’s features were neutral throughout Killian’s little speech, and then finally, he let a small smile slip. “Welcome to the family then, Killian.”

Killian offered him a smile of his own. He was thankful that David finally seemed to trust him with his sister’s heart. The two men spent the rest of the day helping one another, laughing, and finally being at ease.

Killian was on his way to grab some chairs from the closest when he once again walked in a conversation not meant for his ears.

“Spill. Now.”

“Ruby, I don’t know what you want me to say!”

“How about the truth, Emma Marie Swan! No texts, no calls, not so much a word. And then you show up here with Killian? Emma, I know you’re reserved but you would’ve told me if you were dating someone. Shit, you’ve told me about one-nightstands before! What’s the deal with you and Killian?”

Emma sighed in defeat, “We’re not really dating. It’s all pretend.”

“Emma, are you serious?”

Killian didn’t hear her reply, he assumed she nodded her head.

“Yeah, okay? It was all for pretend. He just offered out of pity, I think. He’s my barista from back home, and he overheard me telling Ruth I was bringing a guy home. And now? Ha! Everything has gone to hell...He’s just a fake date.”

Killian had heard enough. His heart felt as though someone had reached into his chest and crushed it. He walked away, not daring to listen to any more of how she actually saw him. Just some guy. Some fake date that’s gone too far. Killian stormed out of the building and went for a walk to clear his head.

Emma watched as he left but unfortunately, Ruby still had her corned. “So?”

“So what, Rubes?”

“Are your feelings for him fake as well? Cause honey, I can tell you his most definitely are not.”

Emma knew that deep down, Killian was no longer acting. And somewhere along the line, she had stopped too. Ruby seemed to take her silence as her answer, smirking at her friend as she walked away.

“Oh, and Emma? I would tell him sooner rather than later the truth because otherwise, you’ll be under that mistletoe alone.” Ruby knew when to drop the mic and walk away, which always impressed Emma. She just never liked being on the other end of those moments.

Emma tried to find Killian, but he seemed to have disappeared from the building. When she went home to change for the party, he kept his distance and never stayed in the same room with her for more than a moment. It didn’t take her long to realize something must have been bothering him, but she chalked it up to him feeling overwhelmed with his current situation.

Ruth stayed at the venue and changed there, so the two couples decided to ride together. Mary Margaret was wearing an elegant white long dress, and David was dressed in a navy-blue suit. They looked like royalty together.

Emma had decided on a black dress that was laced with beautiful patterns and hugged every curve. Killian was in awe of her beauty but tried to hide his emotions. He had decided during his walk, that it would be best for him not to think of Emma as anything more than a friend.

“You clean up well, Mr. Jones.” Killian had trimmed his scruff and wore a black suit, coordinating perfectly with Emma.

“Thank you, Swan. You look lovely as well. Shall we go then?” No one else seemed to notice that Killian was off except for Emma. In recent days, he’d been calling her love, darling, and most recently mo ghra. Emma still hadn’t looked up what it meant, she knew his mother was from Ireland and had assumed it was an Irish term of endearment.

The entire car ride there Killian didn’t so much look at Emma. He couldn’t, he was weak and would not be able to stop himself from falling more in love with her every second that passed. He needed to be strong and realize this facade of a relationship would be over the moment they returned to Boston.

As they entered the building, Killian spotted the mistletoe that had been hung above everywhere. He knew that had not been the original plan. Damn, now he would have to avoid walking through a doorway with her.

The party continued without any incidents. Emma had asked to dance with her on a number of different occasions, but he always found an excuse to avoid it. He felt terrible. He could see she was upset by his rejection, but he figured it was for the best. They’d nearly been caught under the mistletoe four times now, and it was starting to feel like Emma was deliberately trying to catch him.

As the night wore on and couples began to take their leave, the DJ announced it was time for the last song, and invited everyone onto the dancefloor. Killian saw Emma standing off to the side. She looked deflated and he couldn’t stand seeing her that way. Without care for his heart, he stood and offered Emma his hand.

There it was again. That hope had returned to her eyes once more.

As they began to dance to an old Christmas song Killian wrapped his arms around Emma’s waist, and her own came up to settle over his shoulders so her hands could play with his hair, like she had done for most of the trip.

“Killian, I just want to thank you. If you hadn’t offered-”

“It was the right thing to do, love.”

“Why did you do it? Why did you offer to come with me?”

Killian felt his resolve breaking, he wanted so desperately to say it was because he loved her, but he bit his tongue. “All I know, Emma, was that you deserved to have a special Christmas. One filled with precious memories, not concerns regarding your dating life. And I, uh, I couldn’t imagine you going home with anyone else. The thought of that was unsettling.”

“You didn’t want me to go home with someone else?”

“Truth be told, love when I heard you on the phone and you mentioned you were with another, my heart sank. I thought I had lost my chance.”

The two of them danced in silence, as Killian prayed that he hadn’t crossed a line.

“I know you heard me make my wish, you know?”

Killian gave her an odd look, confused by what she meant.

“On Christmas Eve. I know you weren’t asleep.”

“Oh, that? I was confused by what you were saying. It’d been a long day and I thought you were mumbling something in your sleep.”

“No, um...it’s a silly thing I’ve done since I was a kid. Christmas Eve, before I fall asleep, I make a wish. The first year I did it, I wished for a home; two months later, Ruth found me. It’s silly and usually nothing happens, but-”

“It’s charming, Swan. We all could use a little hope every now and again.” The irony wasn’t lost on Killian at that moment. He hoped so desperately that Emma would see him as more than her fake date.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I wished for?”

“Isn’t that bad luck, love? I wouldn’t want your wish not coming true because of me.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she whispered, but Killian still caught it over the music.

“What did you wish for, mo ghra?”

Emma smiled brightly. During the night, she’d looked up what that phrase meant. “Love. I wished for the man I love to love me back.”

“Emma?” Killian stopped dancing. He stood still and prayed he’d heard her correctly. “Are you...do you...please say it. Please tell me I’m not dreaming.”

Emma stepped further into his space and held his gaze.

“I love you, Killian Jones.”

Killian kissed her as though his life depended on it. And at that moment, felt like it did.

“I love you, Emma Swan. More than you’ll ever know.”

The two barely made it home before they could express their love in a physical way. They didn’t tell anyone that it was fake at the beginning, until the night before their wedding. Emma finally confessed to her family when Ruby inadvertently mentioned it. David had a field day with the news, but Mary Margaret was amazed at their acting. Ruth simply told them that they had never really been faking it. They were merely hiding the truth from each other.

She wasn’t wrong.

#captain swan #cs #emma swan #killian jones #csss19 #my gift #captain swan ff #cs ff #david nolan #mary margaret blanchard #ruby #BED SHARING #FAKE DATING #until it isn't ;)

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iwillsinkwithmyships · 4 years

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The Love I Meant to Say 1/3

Steve Rogers was found much earlier, so was Bucky Barnes, and since the two of them had nowhere to go, Howard Stark took them in. Now the night of Tony's graduation fights occur, misunderstandings happen, and everyone ends broken-hearted. Canon AU.

A/N: Hi! This is my very first Marvel Fic, this has been floating around my head in my head for a long time. It was actually supposed to be part of the WinterIronShield Big Bang 2019, but I am not complete sure what happened, so I decided to just publish it as it is. This all occurs in the 90's, Tony is 21 and graduating from MIT, the boys can't communicate well and shit hits the fan. Kudos and comments welcomed!

Titles taken from the TV Show SMASH, mostly second season songs, since that's all I listened to while writing this.

Chapter 1: Sorry, that's the word I want to sing to you...

To say that Tony Stark had a strange life was the understatement of the century. He was the only son of weapons manufacturer Howard Stark and socialite Maria Stark nee Carbonell. At the age of four he had built his first circuit board At the age of 15 he began attending MIT and now at the age of 21 he had just graduated at the top of his class with a two Masters and a Doctorate. The young Stark internally sighed as he pretended to listen to whichever one of the board member that his dad had invited to his graduated party. His job at this event was to grin and bear as his parents paraded him around like some trophy to show off. He was no better than the expensive painting his mother purchased to show to her friends, no better than some article written about the empire his father had built.

Tony sighed and shook his head, there he went being the drama queen his father always called him. He just had to endure this party and then he'd be free to go celebrate with his friends. They were his favorite part about MIT. Rhodey had been his assigned roommate and had quickly became his best friend, his brother. He was always patient with him and his constant engineering binges. He kept people who would take advantage of the dumb young Stark kid and introduced him to his other best friend: Carol Danvers. Carol was a sarcastic, stubborn asshole. Which meant she and Tony got along like two peas in a pod. Rhodey liked to complain that he was a babysitter for the two of them but when it came down to it Rhodey was just as bad as the two of them, and he always covered for them. He came back to himself and realized that Old Guy McBoring was still talking...jeez...

He excused himself and found his way to the garden, surely they couldn't miss him for a couple of minutes...

"Leaving your own party huh? I don't think your mom will be too happy about that tomorrow." Tony startled and turned only to get the breath knocked out of his lungs. There stood another inexplicable part of Tony's life.

When he was just three years old his father had returned from one of his usual long trips with a surprise for Tony. That surprised had turned out to be Captain America himself, who after being suspended in ice a for almost thirty years was still alive thanks to the Super Soldier Serum. Steve Rogers had introduced himself to Tony by coming down to little Tony's level with a kind smile and a warm hand extended for a handshake. Tony had loved Steve instantly and followed him around like a lost puppy. Tony still remembers being a six year old and sitting in his huge library reading with Steve. Steve who never raised his voice at him and always answered all of Tony's questions with patience and a kind voice. Steve had been one of Tony's favorite people together with Jarvis and Aunt Peggy.

Years after that, Sergeant James "Bucky" Barnes had been found. No one had ever explained to Tony what had happened to Bucky, only that he needed to give him space. Tony had been 10 at the time, but he still remember the hunted look in Bucky's eyes, the way he seemed to lean on Steve for support and it had taken no hesitation on his part to go over and introduce himself. Steve had been alarmed and had looked at Tony with wide panicked eyes when he had burst into Steve's wing of the house. Tony remembers seeing Bucky tense and looking at him with wary eyes, but Tony also remembered how much it meant to him to have another friend besides Jarvis and Ana. So Tony vowed to become Sergeant Barnes's friend.

So a determined Tony had walked into the wing his father had given Steve and did what he always did while visiting Steve. He'd babbled. He had first introduced himself - because his mother and Jarvis had raised him to be polite - and then launched into a long description of what he'd done while Steve had been gone all the while throwing himself onto the couch across Steve and his friend were sitting. For some reason that had worked and soon Tony had found himself visiting the two heroes he had grown up listening stories about, first from Howard and later on from Steve, who had mainly focused on all the shenanigans he and his best friend had gotten up to, and soon Sergeant Barnes became Bucky.

And so Tony had grown up with Captain America and his Trusty Sidekick Bucky Barnes - Bucky doesn't exactly love being called the sidekick and so the Steve and Tony love to tease him about it - and at some point that hero worship had transformed into an embarrassing crush on the two super soldiers. Tony is smart enough to recognize that it was inevitable. After all, the two of them were the peak of human perfection and he knew from personal experience that they were also incredibly smart, kind and hilarious. It hadn't really surprised Tony when they'd told him that they were a couple, since the two of them just...made sense. It still didn't stop him from blushing every time he saw them nowadays.

It was mortifying.

"Hey!" good god his voice cracked! "I didn't see you guys come in!" Both men smiled at him fondly and all Tony could do was hope their heightened senses didn't let them hear his damn heartbeat.

"If you think we are subjecting ourselves to those vultures, you don't know us at all Tones." Bucky drawled as he joined Tony at the bench he was sitting at and threw an arm over his shoulders, "I love you, but I am not subjecting myself to that." Tony relaxed a little as he laughed and turned to Steve who sat on his other side.

"We wanted to congratulate you, but I also didn't want to take the focus from you. This party is to celebrate your accomplishments." Tony rolled his eyes.

"This party is so that Dad can brag to his friend about how smart his son is," Tony tried for a bored tone but the pinched look that the two older man got was clue enough that he'd failed, "But I'm used to it so don't worry about it. So what did you get me?!" He finished excitedly.

"And who says we got your spoiled ass anything you punk." Bucky slapped the back of his head as Tony laughed.

"Please! You guys love me! Plus, we both know that Captain Goody-Two Shoes would not show up to my party without a gift, so hand it over!"

"If you are going to make fun of me because I am polite then maybe I shouldn't give it to you," the Captain grumbled. Bucky and Tony both laughed at him as he pulled out a small box even as he spoke. Tony took it from him and opened it. Inside lay a necklace with an oddly shaped pendant. It had a beautiful gem at the base and an intricate design going down, it reminded Tony of something but he couldn't think of what.

"It's beautiful," he murmured, raising his eyes to meet two warm stares.

"We are glad you like it," said Bucky and then he got up and walked back into the house, not a minute later he was back with a large ornate box. "We were really hoping you did otherwise this would be awkward."

"What he's trying to say," huffed Steve, and pulled a necklace from under his dress shirt it look pretty similar to the one they'd given him, "is that it is part of a whole. You have always been a part of us Tony, a really important part. You were there when I was shoved into a new decade and learned everything alongside me, and you were there when I got Bucky back." He grabbed a hold of Bucky's hand and held it in that way Tony had always seen, like he was afraid he'd disappear at any time. Tony ignored the now familiar pang on his chest. "You helped me get him back from somewhere really dark and scary, and we will never be able to repay all that to you."

"Guys-"

"Sweetheart," Bucky said softly taking hold of one of his hands. "If the next words out of your mouth are something about how you didn't do anything then you are not nearly as bright as we all give you credit for." Steve laughed at the indignant look in Tony's face.

"Anyways, back to what I was saying, you are important to us and we can't picture a future without you, and we hope we don't have to. Bucky and I, we've lost so much to time that...it scares us to not have anything to remember the things we love the most. So, we thought we could do kind of a time capsule of sorts. Something that the three of us can come together to look at and reminiscence." Steve took of the necklace around his neck, and Tony noticed that Bucky was doing the same thing. Steve took Bucky's necklace, gently plied Tony's from his hand and put the three together.

"It's a key," Tony gasped. Steve smiled and used the key - secret key! - to open the box in Bucky's hands.

"We were hoping to make plans to meet later this week to get together and put in things that have brought the three of us together," said Bucky. "We already have ours, but we figured you'd need some time to decide." Tony nodded absently as he looked at the items already in the box. There were drawings Tony had worked on with Steve in his younger years, a small hat that Bucky had knit him years ago and that he'd thought lost, books they had read together. The first circuit board Tony had built, which until today Tony had thought his father had thrown away. And a cassette with songs that Ana liked to play while her and baked. Tony remembers being 15 and humming along to all the songs in this cassette as he followed Ana's instructions to making a pie. His parents had been away on a trip, having forgotten that Tony was coming home for the holidays, but Jarvis and Ana had not. They had stayed for him - despite Howard's protests - and invited Steve and Bucky, who had moved out of the Stark Mansion around the same time Tony left for MIT, and Aunt Peggy. Tony's vision blurred as he saw pictures, drawings, and other seemingly insignificant things that represented some of Tony's best memories.

"I don't - I don't know what to say this is..."

"Just say thank you honey," Steve said with a chuckle and ran his fingers through Tony's curls.

"Yeah, look, let;s get together this weekend and we can pick a place to bury this thing." Tony let out a chocked laugh, and closed the box again, while setting it next to him. He threw his arms around Bucky, who didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around him too, and felt the familiar warmth of Steve behind him as he joined them in a hug, and this was Tony's favorite place in the world, being held in their arms he felt safe, warm and loved.

"Tony?" Tony jumped away from the two super-soldiers in surprised - he decided to ignore the upset look on the two other men as he leaped back - and relaxed when he recognized the person that had interrupted them.

"Obie!" Tony ran and over to his Godfather. The other man laughed and threw his arms around the younger man. "I thought you were on a trip!"

"What?! You thought I'd miss your graduation party. Please, and look, I even got you a present." Obadiah handed Tony a wrapped package

"What is this?"

"This my dear boy... is the future, but you'll probably want to open that later, I see that you are otherwise engage at the moment, gentlemen." Obie finished with a smile and an extended hand towards Steve and Bucky. In their end Steve and Bucky returned Obadiah 's greeting politely. Steve and Bucky had never really warmed up to Obadiah, something that Tony had never understood. Obadiah had always interested in seeing Tony's new inventions and thoughts on the future for Stark Industries. He'd even visited him while he'd been at MIT and walk though all of his projects with Tony.

Yet, Steve and Bucky remained distantly polite.

"Mr. Stane, good to see you again," Steve said while giving Obadiah's hand a quick shake. Bucky simply nodded.

"The future?" Bucky drawled with nod towards Tony and the package in his hand.

"Yes," Obie said, smile firmly in place, "Tony mentioned that he was interested in advancing medicine, and I found some notes by some of Medicine's top researchers. Figured our Tony here would like to see where we currently stand in medical advances."

"Thanks Obie! I'll take a look at it tonight," and with that he put his present away. His hands itched to open it and start reading it, but he'd understood Obie's hidden warning.

For the past 6 months, Tony had asked Obie to look for whispered legend, a project called EXTREMIS, research into bio-mechanics that Tony wanted to help with. To try and understand it and use it to find the cure to many incurable diseases. He knew that if he could take a look at the data he could help unlock it. The researcher, Maya Hansen, had suddenly gone underground and Tony had been unable to reach her, but if anyone could find her it would be Obie. So he'd asked Obie for help, and in exchanged Obie had only asked for opinions and improvements into some designs. However, he knew that there were rumors running around that EXTREMIS was another go at the Super Soldier Serum that had given Steve, and later on Bucky, their abilities. Tony could not be less interested in that, he just wanted to help people.

"Well I'll go inside and greet tonight's guests. It's only a matter of minutes before Howard comes and takes me away anyway. Gentlemen," he nodded towards the other two men, and clapped a hand on Tony's shoulder, "Tony, again congratulations. I hope you enjoy my present and let me know if you have any questions." Tony hugged Obie in thanks one more time and watched him walk back inside, but when he turned he saw the two soldier glare at Obie's back.

"Ok, what is it with you two against Obie?" Tony asked exasperated.

"We just don't trust him doll," Bucky said, not even trying to defend himself and Steve, "And you shouldn't either."

"Why not?" Tony warily asked, "do you guys know something I don't?" Obie had never been anything but kind and understanding with Tony, but if Steve and Bucky knew something...

"No," Steve replied this time, "no, Tony, we just.... have this gut feeling, and we'd rather you didn't really associate yourself with him.

A gut feeling...Seriously?

"Wha- A Gut feeling?! Steve, you and Bucky are just being overly protective for no reason. Obie has always looked out for me and he has never given me a reason to mistrust him. I am not going to just not talk to my Godfather because you and Bucky-bear here have a gut feeling that he might not be a great guy." Tony snarked with an eye roll.

"Tony" Steve warned with a slightly hurt look, that immediately made Tony feel guilty.

"We are just looking out for you kid," And wow, Bucky should not have said that, because now Tony was right back to angry, "we don't want you to be taken advantage of by some shark."

"Why? Because I am just some dumb kid, that doesn't know how to look out for himself? I need you two as babysitters?" he spit back.

"That is not what we are saying Tony," Steve said sternly, and he seemed to want to drop the fight, but his partner looked ready to put Tony over his knee and spank him for being a brat...and wasn't that an image.

'Focus, you dumb slut,' a voice that sounded suspiciously like Carol's said in his head.

"Stop twisting our words, you know that's now what I meant. This is not about you, it's about Obadiah Stane being nothing but a snake oil salesman, who will not hesitate to drop you the minute you stop being useful to him!" came the growl, and Tony saw red, he couldn't even stop the word vomit that came from his mouth.

"Oh that's rich coming fro the two of you! You two split the moment I was accepted to MIT and not once did you try to contact me. Not a call, or letter, or much less a fucking visit! I only saw you whenever I came over back home to visit which was maybe once a year! You know who did visit? OBIE! Obie was there for me, he called me regularly to check on me, made sure I was comfortable, came in and listen to me babble about robots for hours! And I am suppose to not trust him?!" Tony swiped a hand through his face and ignored the slight wetness in his eyes, because he was not crying like a fucking baby.

"Tony," Steve croaked, and when Tony turned back he saw that the other two men looked pale and stricken, "Tony we just...Tony we had already taken so much of your childhood, we didn't want to impose on your college experience too. Jesus, Tony is not because we don't love you!" Steve walked towards him and dragged him back into the bench, where the two men he loved carefully wrapped him back into their arms.

"Tony," Bucky said and paused to press a kiss to his forehead, "I am so sorry, if we made you feel like we...didn't care, God, that's the furthest thing from the truth. We just wanted to give you the space and not feel...smothered. You were in college with people closer to you age and who are almost as smart as you and we didn't want to ruin that for you." Steve hummed in agreement and raised one of Tony's hands to his mouth to give it a kiss.

"I was lonely, all the other kids wanted nothing to do with some weird 15-year-old rich boy. Hell, half of them thought I had bought my way in." The arms around him tightened, "but then Rhodey came and he brought Carol with him, and Carol has this girlfriend Maria, and then I wasn't alone. But I still missed you guys. It kinda felt like you were done with the snotty little kid that wouldn't leave you alone."

"Honey, no. We missed you too."

"Those times that we saw you? During the holidays? Those were precious to us, we were so glad to have you back if even for a little while."

"SHIELD just about lost it every time we denied missions just to come over and see you." Tony's heart warmed and he closed his eyes letting their reassurances wash over him. This was where he wanted to spend the rest of his life, in their arms feeling loved....

"Why don't you open you present? You seemed really excited earlier, let's see what you got." The way Steve had said it, so casually, could've fooled anyone. It sounded bright, optimistic, and just the right amount of curious. But Tony had known Steve for years, he'd known him and Bucky better than he knew himself...

...which is why it hurt when he saw the lie in his eyes. He wasn't simply changing the subject, he was lying to see what was in the package.

'Liar!' came the thought full of pain and disbelief.

"I think I'm good actually." He bit out coldly while he ripped himself away from them.

"Sweetheart," Bucky tried.

"Are you serious? You think I can't tell when you are lying?! You really think I am that stupid?!"

"Of course not! Tony we meant everything we said and you are the smartest person we know! But the world isn't kind to kind-hearted people like you, and I am sorry that you can't see that we are just trying to protect you!" Steve was on his feet and Bucky followed at a slower pace.

"Tony," Bucky sternly took over, "you know we think the world of you, and we would gladly lay down our life for you. And you are right, you know us, you've known us for a long time. So you know that we mean it when we say we love you and we just want to protect you...just like we know when you are hiding something from us. So just tell us, tells us what it is that Stane has you working on, and if it's something dangerous, let us help you."

"Are you listening to yourselves? You sound insane right now! What Obie has me working on? I am not working on anything for him! Yes, I do give input on some designs but that's insignificant, and what does it matter if I do anyway, I am going to be designing for SI soon enough!" Tony was surprised no one had come out with how loud they were being, but it was for the best. Steve and Bucky had a wild look in their face and Tony couldn't stop the angry tears in his eyes. It was humiliating.

"Then what did Obadiah just give you?!" Bucky asked accusingly and pointed at the package.

"Tony we are not stupid either, stop lying to us!" Steve yelled, and yanked him closer by the arm...and that broke Tony. Steve and Bucky had never hurt or yelled at Tony. They always treated him gently, spoke in measured volumes, because they suspected his parents didn't extend him that courtesy. Tony loved them for it. And now...

"Stop it," Tony sobbed, "you are hurting me, please..."

Steve let him go as if he'd been burned, Bucky took a step back. The anger washed out of the captain and his sergeant quickly and left behind wide eyes and pale faces.

"Tony," Steve croaked brokenly, "I am so sorry!"

"Yeah, you've been saying that a lot tonight," Tony said as he brought his arm closer to himself.

"What is going on in here?!" Someone had finally heard them.

"Nothing Jarvis," Tony said hollowly, "This conversation is over." With that he ran towards the exit ignoring the calls for his name. He should meet Rhodey and Carol anyway.

#My fic #My writing #stevetony #steve x tony #stony #stony fic #superhusbands #Steve Rogers #tony stark #steve rogers x tony stark

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bennyboyjones · 4 years

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THE GETAWAY (Ben Hardy FanFic) Prologue

A/N: Hi! So, here is the prologue to my Ben Hardy AU Fanfic! There are currently several chapters written, which you can find on Wattpad if you click on the link below, but I’ve decided to also upload it here as well. It might be a bit behind, but you’ll still get all the chaps eventually.

What it is: basically, a girl from a small town who is bored of her life decides to take a trip to Nice where she runs into ben, who is also running away from some shit and some romance ensues.

Word count: 1.6k

In this chapter: just some background to get us started. You probably don’t have to read this to understand what comes after, but it will help you understand the main character better.

WATTPAD LINK IF YOU WANT TO READ AHEAD

Here we go:

prologue

I brushed my thumb over the twenty year old bonds clutched between my fingers. My eyes swept over the bank tellers, my weight switching back and forth from my right to my left foot. These people were taking forever; I figured it would be slow since it was a Monday morning, but apparently this was when all of the housewives did their banking. I had been next in line for the past fifteen minutes and as time went on, my nerve was steadily draining out of me.

Last night, after a bottle of wine, I sat on the floor of my bedroom and reached under my bed for the manilla folder that held the contents of what I would consider the best six months of my life. The folder was worn, soft, had both coffee and wine stains, and looked way too aged for something that had only come into existence a year ago. I placed my glass next to me, on the equally stained gray carpet, and pulled out endless postcards, bookmarks, pamphlets, plane tickets, museum and park and exhibit passes, and polaroids. I sifted through them, running fingers over my best friends’ smiling faces, rereading postcards to my family I had already memorized, focusing on guides to museums in Copenhagen, Paris, and London as if studying them could magically teleport me back. Instead, I was stuck here, in Rye, a small town that I was so, so bored of.

I had lived here my entire life, and so had my parents. We went to the same elementary school and high school, we lived a thirty-second drive and a five minute walk from where my dad grew up. Everyone I had gone to school with had parents who graduated with or around the same time as mine. I felt so suffocated by sameness, by the ordinariness, and was terrified of repeating the pattern of monotony.

When it was time to go to college, I was sure I would end up in New York City—somewhere not too far, but far enough, different enough from everything I wanted to get away from. When I was in high school, I decided that I was made to live there. For nine months out of the year, I’m a New Yorker—but during the summer I’m always back in Rye because apparently it’s financially irresponsible to take out loans to dorm over the summer and I can’t afford an apartment on a waitress’s salary, nor do I have the time to take up a second job and go to school full time, so Rye it is.

I only ever missed New York seasonally, but I missed London all the time.

I missed living in London. I missed walking the three blocks from Queen Mary to the Co-Op to grab mushrooms, flapjacks, and a bottle of wine. I missed sitting on the Central Line at 11:30pm drunk, with Sarah and Annie on our way to our favorite club near Tottenham Court Road. I missed walking to Rinkoff’s hungover and grabbing a cronut. I missed Brick Lane on Sunday mornings. I missed a past life.

For the past year, I’ve been saving up to get it back. When I came home last June, I worked a waitressing job at a small restaurant on our main street, as many doubles as I could—six days a week—and I refused to spend a single dime of it. I worked part time the past two semesters and saved as much as I could, but metro cards were expensive and a girl needed to eat, and also have a social life, and instead of “throwing away” my left over aid money on spring break vacations like my friends did, I hoarded that $1,231 and pretended I wasn’t bothered by the Miami Beach pictures even though I knew I was missing out.

London was expensive, that much was clear; the only way I survived six months on $6,000 was because my financial aid paid for my housing and tuition, traveling around Europe while living in Europe is cheap, and my mom was sending me $100 a week for groceries because she was worried that all the jokes I made about not eating so I could afford to party (or financial drinking, as it’s been called) were serious (they were, and often the money that was supposed to be meant for groceries went to more fucking around—you only go abroad like that once in your entire life and I was so not going to waste it). And still, despite the weekly allowance from my mom, I still came home with $82 left in my bank account. Towards the end of the six months I was barely hanging on financially. Basically, what I’m saying is that I knew going back was going to cost me a lot of money, especially since I knew I wouldn’t have the same kind of help that I had the last time around.

So, I saved and refused to do the math to figure out how much I would need to go back to London for at least two weeks. Well, last night, I did the math—and, oh boy, I am not going back to London until I have at least a few thousand more dollars to my name. That crushing disappointment is what led me to that manilla folder.

The past few months, going back to Europe was all I could think about; I was graduating in December and this was my last summer to really do whatever I wanted before I had to be a real adult. Granted, I was planning on going straight into grad school, but the statement still stands.

I took another sip of the cheap-ass red I regretted buying before grabbing my photos from Nice. I slowly went through them, and my eyes misted at the landscapes, the crooked self portraits taken on both disposables and my barely functioning digital, the photos of food, and coffees perfectly placed next to pages of my open journal.

It was the one place that I had gone alone, in the middle of January, for only three days. It was a trip I took out of convenience (student visa issues) and I had only chosen Nice because it was both relatively cheap and small, but it ended up being my favorite place. The place I named first when people asked where I went, the place I talked about the most, and the place that meant the most to me.

I put the photos down and opened my laptop. I opened a tab for SkyScanner, one for AirBnb, and one for TripAdvisor and started doing the math.

Flight: $1,214 (round trip)

AirBnb: $2,056

Other Expenses: $3,000

Approx. Total: $6,270

I knew how much I had in my savings and knew I had bonds somewhere from my baptism or some other religious sacrament I was forced to endure that I could cash for some extra money. I had enough for three weeks, but didn’t have much of a financial cushion should I need it.

I downed what was left in my glass and booked my trip. I felt my hands shaking as I took them off my keyboard to rest them on my cheeks. My face was flush from both the wine and the excitement. I wiped my feet against the carpet, the nervous sweat on their bottoms making me uncomfortable. I was never one for impulsivity; I was a planner, a control freak, a perfectionist—a full blown virgo for fuck’s sake and the longer I sat there, staring at the confirmation page before me, the more nauseous I felt. I refused to let the regret set in, the doubt, and the fear. Instead, I stood up, hopped down the stairs with my empty glass in hand, and upon refilling, announced to my mom that in three weeks time, I would be on a plane to France.

Earlier this morning, she rifled through the safe in the back of her closet in search of the bonds. When I told her about what I had done, she didn’t have much of a reply—she simply raised her glass to me and muttered a soft, “Jesus Christ”. I knew she was slightly concerned, but also excited for me and I really couldn’t have asked for a better reaction. She was a supportive mom, always, no matter how questionable her children’s choices were (and mine and my brothers’ choices were always questionable).

Once she found them shoved into an envelope from the ‘90s, I got in the car with my younger brother and went to the bank.

“You need to chill out. You’re going to make everyone in there nervous if you go in there all shaky and sweaty. You’re making yourself look like a criminal,” Noah said as he put his crappy car in park.

“I’m just nervous. I know this is a stupid idea, isn’t it? I should just keep saving and go back in, like, another year when I really have the money, don’t you think?”

He rolled his eyes, “No. I think you need to do this now. It’s all you ever fucking talk about, and honestly, visiting you last year was the best thing I’ve ever done and it was the happiest I saw you. Just stop being a dumb bitch and go in there and get your money.”

Ignoring the “bitch” comment, I pushed the car door open with a loud creaking and clutched the bonds so tight they folded in my hands.

When it was finally (finally!) my turn to be helped, I stepped up and handed the bonds over, crumpled and slightly damp with sweat, “I’d like to cash these, please.”

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prorevenge · 6 years

Text

My Gaslighting Manager told me I did NOT have a degree

I've been lurking here for a while and thought I'd share.

This will probably be a long one so my TL; DR: My gaslighting manager told my I didn't have a degree, was a terrible programmer and that HE could write a script I was assigned better and more efficiently so I quit the day he went on an international month and a half long vacation so he'd have to do it himself from paradise.

So some background, I'm an African American woman who's been working as a programmer for about a good 4 - 5 years now. This situation happened in my first job out of college about 5 years ago and I was employed there for six months. I got a degree in Computer Science and I had tried to work at a larger company but decided to work somewhere smaller and then work my way up to a big company.

I stumbled upon a job for a programmer at......let's call them Gaslight Business Solutions (GBS), and decided to apply. At the time I was living in the Bay Area and the job was in SoCal so after successful phone interviews I flew down for an in person interview. The interview went fine with the CEO and he mentioned that as a small company (8 people at the time) I'd have to wear multiple hats and at the time I was okay with that. The CEO then proceeds to tell me that I'd spend maybe about 25% of my time being a support rep for a software, let's call it TerribleSuite (TS) (a CRM and ERP software), and the other 75% of my time programming for it. Once again I was fine with that and so the CEO offered me employment and I accepted. He did warn me that I'd start off making something pretty low but my pay would become exponentially better after three months.

So a few days later I receive an email about the terms of my employment, my initial pay for three months was going to be 12.00 an hour and my overtime rate was 18.00 an hour. I was pissed, programmers make significantly more than that! But I justified it that they were a small company, and my pay was going to be exponentially better three months from my start date so I could hold off. I also noticed that my title wasn't "Programmer" but "Software Analyst" which I thought was strange but once again wrote it off.

On my very first day, THE VERY FIRST DAY AFTER AN HOUR OF BEING THERE, several employees asked me "Do you still like it here?" and "You're not going to quit right?" I thought it was strange but I explained that I liked working there and asked why they were asking that. They explained that another African American (I'm not sure why that was important to explain to me) programmer had quit on them after only a couple of days of working there so they just wanted to make sure I was happy. I assured them that I was happy and had no plans of leaving.

These questions proceeded for the next six weeks, every. single. day. MULTIPLE times a day. I thought it was strange behavior but at the time believed that it was because of what happened with the other employee so I didn't think much of it. The next red flag was when I had to go to a customer and my coworker told me within five minutes of driving to the customer he told me "I needed to get my experience and get out." I was flabbergasted, I asked him about it and he explained that I had better opportunities and I shouldn't waste my time at GBS. I was shaken by his words and I told him a bland okay.

For pretty much 90% of my time at GBS I spent most of my time was spent learning TerribleSuite and being a support rep, I did pretty much ZERO programming. I was pretty annoyed, I was promised I'd be doing programming and I began to lightly voice my displeasure about a month in, since that's what they wanted a programmer. My manager, "Jav", decided he'd "test" my programming skills so he gave me a script to rewrite. I was just to rewrite the code and not look into the different functions I could use or to research the functions that were used. As my first programming assignment I was on it and I was excited to finally be writing some code, even if it was just a rewrite. I rewrote the 200 lines of code down to under a hundred, sectioning off repeated code into separate functions so it made the code more legible.

I returned it to my manager within under a day and he called me into a code review. He proceeded to scold me about how I didn't really enhance the code and that I didn't really understand the methods being used. I told him that he told me not to and he just looked at me strangely but didn't say anything. Jav then told me that he could have written it better but he told me I did a good job. I took at a small win but I felt a little strange.

Now Jav knows how to program, he was self taught but made a LOT of mistakes. Some of them were very blatant and others were just subtle rushing mistakes. He'd sometimes forget a closing bracket or he'd forget to null check variables. Just mistakes every where, but typically the code would function, but it was pretty much always volatile.

So after that point my manager proceeded to make my life a living hell. He'd find any moment to critique my work. On multiple occasions he'd tell me I'd do something wrong and after I had apologized then tell me I had actually done it right. I was confused and I asked my fellow coworkers and they laughed it off as a quirk of Jav. He would assign me scripts and when I had questions he'd say he was too busy and schedule time to talk about it AFTER the script's due date. I'd see him goofing off in the conference room and if I'd ask him to help me he'd tell me he was going to be in call in a few minutes and was just letting off steam. I'd leave come back after about 10 - 20 minutes, and when I'd walk by the conference room he'd still be goofing off, or listening to music. If I did catch him at a time where he wasn't busy he'd dramatically sigh and reluctantly "help" out. His help sessions would go like this:

Me: Hi I need to access this sub object in TS but the help doc doesn't say what the api name is. Jav: You need to use a for loop to go through the object and then use a nested for to access the sub object.

Me: Yes, I'm aware of that but I don't have the name of the sub object's api name. Jav: You need to use a nested for. Me: Yes, I...

[He'd respond with one of the following] Jav: Well then you know what you're doing, I have a call/I'm busy so go upstairs and finish the script. Jav: You're just confused, go upstairs and think about it more. Jav: You don't understand the business process, go back upstairs and ask [coworker] about the business process.

For those of you non-programmers out there I'm basically asking for a key to access a room that's in another room and Jav is just confirming that the key exists but he's not telling me where the key is so I can access that room.

I always left these meetings extremely frustrated because he'd always tell me extremely basic computer science knowledge instead of what I really wanted to know. Jav also loved to spend time trying to tell me the "proper" ways to program. The longer I was there the more convinced he was that I actually faked my degree.

For those of you who don't know for loops are used to do an operation multiple times. Nested for loops with do multiple operations multiple times depending upon the number of nested loops. I write my nested loops like this, like a lot of programmers.

int n = 5; int m = 10; for(int i = 0; i < n; i++) { for(int j = 0; j < m; j++) { // Do something } }

He would BADGER me on this saying that it was the incorrect way of doing a nested for loop and that I was an idiot for doing my nested loops this way. If I tried to submit any scripts with the code above he'd throw a fit and told me to rewrite it the "proper" way. This is the way he wanted me to write nested loops.

int i = 0; int j = 0; int n = 5; int m = 10; for(i =0; i < n; i++) { for(j = 0; j < m; j++) { // Do something } j = 0; }

While this isn't incorrect, when n and/or m is large, like in the millions, resetting j to zero that second time after the inner loop wastes a computers time and it's unnecessary because the first "j = 0" will reset it to zero. I had tried to explain that to him, but he'd throw a fit insisting that ALL CS degree programs write nested loops his way AND that my way did NOT reset the inner loop counter. He say I was confused and I didn't know what I was talking about and that I learned how to do nested loops WRONG.

After this he really began to up his game on criticizing my programming skills, began to lightly suggest that I actually didn't have a computer science degree and made me his personal punching bag when his code broke.

On several occasions, scripts would break on the production accounts of GBS's customers mostly due to tri-yearly updates to TS. When that would occur he'd waste no time lambasting me about how I can't just go into accounts, change code and that I'd need to go back and "put the code back to the way it was". TS kept a history of when files were changed so I'd look it up and shockingly the last time the file was touched was before my hire date. I'd tell him this and he'd respond with the following: "I KNOW you touched the file. My code is PERFECT. You must have hacked into TS and changed the code!"

(First off WTF, if I had those skills I wouldn't be working at their tiny company and secondly ???? who thinks that?!)

I'd have to fix his code, test it in the sandbox account (if a customer had one) and then redeploy it to get the customer up and working again. After I fixed it, Jav would continue to reiterate that I hacked TS and that if I had been good and left things alone the script would have worked just fine. Needless to say I was pissed and I had to hold my tongue because I wanted to tell him how much of a moron he was.

Jav had once given me a script for a customer where given a particular day in the month it would renew a contract for the next year. If the day was in the first half of the month, the contract renewal would be for that month for the next year, it was in the last half of the month, the contract renewal would be for the next month for the next year. For example a March 3rd 2019 the contract renewal would be for March 3rd 2020 and for the second option March 20th 2019 the contract renewal would be for April 20th 2020.

So I wrote the script but forgot that for the last half of December I needed to add an additional year because if I didn't the contract would only be good for a month.

I didn't discover this issue until I was demoing it for the customer. It was going to be an easy fix, three lines of code max and the customer was very forgiving, they were just happy that the script was done and how easy it was going to make their lives. I apologized profusely to the customer about the mistake, but they assured me it was okay because they were just so happy about the script in general. They still had to go through a couple more stages with their bosses so they didn't mind that I needed to add in the quick change. Jav. Was. PISSED. He goes off on me on the call with the customer telling me that I needed to double check my code to make sure that it was working properly and that I always present customers with working code instead of broken code that clearly doesn't work. (If I remember correctly I had demoed it for Jav and another coworker and Jav was very pleased with it, albeit him saying he could do it better). The customer was awkwardly silent on the call as Jav spent a good five minutes berating me and my work. He then addresses the customer with multiple apologies before we hang up the call. I get a call to come downstairs to talk to Jav and when I get down there he continues his tirade and ends the discussion with, "You're NOT a programmer and I don't think you have a degree in computer science and, to be honest, I'm not even sure why we even hired you."

I was furious and on that day I started to seriously look for a new job (I had been casually looking since around the four month mark). I went back upstairs and started a journal of everything he had ever said to me. I also began to have a little "fun", I'd ask "why?" like a toddler when he assigned me new scripts just to see his eyes get as large as saucer and see the little hamster wheel in his head race when he couldn't come up with an answer.

The straw that broke the camel's back was when Jav asked me to write a Julian Date converter for a customer. The customer needed unique numbers every time they created a new item order, so they needed it to be a Julian Date rather than a Gregorian Date. So I researched different algorithms wrote the code and with two other coworkers showed Jav the script after a few days. Like normal Jav was pissed. He looks at me and says I'm confused because I CLEARLY don't know what a Julian Date was. I blinked a little confused, and waited for him to continue. Jav tells me that he wants just month, day, year and that was it. He looks at my other two coworkers and expresses disappointment that they would leave me to this task given my current skills and that they needed to look over and oversee all of my work or do it themselves because they couldn't trust me with the work. (They had some programming knowledge but it wasn't very extensive. They actually passed along all their script writing to me). He orders us to go back upstairs and for me to rewrite the code to use a "proper" Julian Date.

My coworkers and I go back upstairs and a little angered I proclaim that Jav clearly doesn't know we are Gregorian calendar. My coworkers agree and said they were sorry that I had to rewrite the code. Suddenly Jav calls one of my coworkers and asks my coworker to put him on speaker so the whole office could hear (remember we have like 8 coworkers). She does as she's told and Jav proceeds to say that I'm a confused idiot who has no idea what she's doing and that I can't be left unsupervised because I go off and do what I want to do instead of the writing code that I should be writing. Jav says that he's a much better programmer and that his code is faster and more efficient than mine and that if he wasn't so busy he'd be writing all the scripts. He tells my coworkers that they need to keep a close eye on me and hangs up the phone. The office is awkwardly quiet and I'm so upset that I'm seeing red. I was so upset that if people asked me questions in person I'd IM them because I was going to explode at any minute. I immediately stopped working on the Julian Date script switching over to another script that was due much later.

I confided in a coworker who missed out on what happened above, and I told her that I was going to quit that Friday. She tells me to wait a few weeks because Jav always takes a month and a half long vacation. I thought that this was gold. In the weeks up to his vacation he kept parading around about how happy he was about not having to work on his vacation and that he was NOT taking a computer with him because he wasn't going to do anything but relax. He told me he was worried about the Julian Date script and that he was hoping it would be done soon because he didn't want to work on it during his vacation. On the day his vacation starts I go to the CEO and hand in my resignation letter saying that today was my very last day. The CEO is stunned and says "You don't want to give us two weeks" and I reply "No, I'm unhappy here". The CEO is taken aback and asks why, I pull out my journal and began to detail all the things that Jav has done. The CEO is dumbfounded and doesn't believe me since he and Jav had been working together and no one had ever said anything like this about Jav. I didn't really care because I wasn't going to be working there anymore. The CEO calls in my coworkers and announces that I have quit and the coworkers are also STUNNED. I go back to my desk which I had already packed up and put all my personal items in my car before everyone had arrived, and open up the Julian Date Script and write in the comments at the top of the file: "Hi Jav just to let you know, we're currently in the Gregorian Calendar and not the Julian Calendar. I'm so sorry that you're confused and don't understand the business process of this script. I hope you have fun on your vacation!"

I couldn't find a good place to add this end but around fifth month I learned that GBS had hired several people and all of them subsequently quit because of Jav's behavior and that the CEO had been told on multiple occasions that the reason why the person had quit was because of Jav I also learned that someone had went online and wrote negative reviews about Jav on any review site they could find. I tried to find those reviews but unfortunately they have been taking down. I'm upset that the CEO lied to my face stating that no one had ever told him about Jav's behavior but hey I'm not longer working there so I don't really care anymore.

I know that was incredible nasty and it's definitely a low point in my professional career but I don't regret it one bit. My only regret is not deleting all the code in the file so he had to start from scratch.

Sorry for the incredibly long post but I just thought I needed to tell the whole story. Hope you enjoyed it.

(source) story by (/u/CurlyCoderGirl)

#prorevenge #by /u/CurlyCoderGirl #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #last10

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sooghostwriter · 5 years

Text

Iliada

Pairings: Do Kyung Soo x OC

Genre: Mature, Romance, AU, mention of violence, action, bad language, Smut in future chapters

Warnings: Kyung Soo is not a good guy. Mentions of violence.

Summary: After a long and hard assignment, Yoon Suji is sent to a new mission that involves less violence but needs a lot of acting. Do Kyung Soo has one of the biggest drugs rings in South Korea, but police haven’t been able to get him. They need proof that he is the one in charge and Suji is the one sent to get them.

She has the freedom to decide how is she going to get his trust.

Notes: I wrote this story a while ago, I published somewhere else (LJ I think) then I read it again and I didn’t like it, so I changed some things and some characters. Since this story is already written, there will be a new chapter every week. Also, here Kyung Soo is a bit older. This is not child’s game. Also if you are Russian, this is nothing against your country. I grew up in the ’90s when every bad guy in action movies was Russian.

Chapter 1

There are many stories about the fearsome female warriors from ancient Greece: stories about women that, since they were little girls, were trained in the art of war and the handling of weapons, as well as trained to support all kinds of physical sufferings. These stories contain passages that give us hints about how they defeated regiments of man on the battlefield.

-----

From December 16th to December 20th

December 16th to December 17th

Inside the room, Suji was accompanied by three more girls. None of them looked older than 16 years old. Probably outside there was 3°C, but inside and sitting on the floor it felt like minus 3°C. It was her third day in Russia, and as soon as the airplane landed, everything felt like hell.

And she was ready for hell.

Sadly, the three girls in front of her weren’t. It was obvious that their young bodies went through a lot. Their ankles and wrists were bruised, and their mouths had traces of blood in the corners. “Did you guys eat something?” She asked them. Just one of them answered. No. Suji got up and rummaged inside one of her boots and found what she was looking for. Two protein bars.

“They taste bad, but they have a bunch of protein, minerals, and all that crap, they will make you feel better” She cut the bars in half and gave one half to each girl. They bowed at her with gratitude.

She came back to her position and rested her head against the wall. She had to wait until midnight to make a move. At that time, Zala, the big blond guy that received her when she arrived, was supposed to “check the products”.

She felt bad for the girls in front of her, they would be taken soon. She had a plan, but she wouldn’t be able to help them sooner than that.

This was the last day of a one-year mission. Svavelsjo was the biggest human trafficking group in Eastern Europe. And they spread around the world like the plague. What started as a denouncement of a missing person in the suburbs of Busan, ended up as a secret mission of 50 people from the Switzerland and Korean governments to dismantle the Svavelsjo group. Suji was the undercover agent of the circus. She got into the group as a product, as one of the young girls brought from Korea to be sold in the black market as ‘Tender Meat’ as they call girls under eighteen. She was already past eighteen, but her body constitution made her look younger. Illegally younger.

It was probably around 10 when they came to take one of the girls. She struggled a bit but was quickly calmed down with a slap. The guy grabbed her by the hair and pulled her outside the room. Immediately the other two girls began shaking and crying, scared, but already surrendered. Suji rearranged her position and waited for her turn.

“It's 11:30, if you can hear me, cough twice” Suji did as told. Minseok’s voice sounded low but clear. Apparently, the small communicating device hidden in her ear was working.

“We are already located in our positions, the map you gave us was pretty close to the actual deal, at 12 o’clock we will knock down the glass in the ceiling and come in, try to be safe until that happens, I’ll cut communications for now…and Miss Yoon, good luck” Suji smiled at no one and wished for the same.

She kept looking at the two remaining girls in front of her. She wanted to calm them down, but she knew no words were good enough. In one year as an undercover agent, she saw hell in the eyes of all those young girls and boys. She went through hell too, but she was ready for it, she knew how to deal with it. They didn’t. They were just kids. Scared kids.

She was rather grateful when Zala appeared at the door. Looking at her with dark eyes, licking his lips. At least those two girls will be free soon. “How’s my china girl?” Suji kept quiet, hiding her face with her hair. The man grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up, and grabbed one of her hands looking at her long pink nails. He licked one of her fingers, sucking it and biting the tip. She felt like hitting the guy down his throat, but she had to stay calm “People say you did a good job at Japan and then at Russia, so let’s see how you do here” He sucked at her fingers for the last time and then grabbed a stronghold on her hair “Come with me slut!” She followed him, faking some resistance, and heard the door was shut behind her.

Zala walked along a dark alley, she couldn’t see a thing and felt insecure about the future of the operation. But they reached the room he was looking for and felt relieved when a strong beam of light passed through the open door. He pushed her inside the room and took his time to close the door. Suji looked around her and the content of the room made her feel sick. A gurney, old hospital equipment, oxygen tanks, dirty scrubs, and a wall covered with refrigerating units “You are useless to us now, we will take the last thing we need from you” He grabbed her by the neck and tossed her on top of the bed. She hit her head on the landing and the squeal she made, made Zala laugh. She was getting more and more grossed out. “Yoon, 10 seconds” She sat on top of the bed, holding herself in her hands “9…8…7…6…5…4” Zala was preparing a needle with a dark liquid inside, and approached her slowly “ 3…2…1”

Chaos reigned.

The two short-range bombs in the two main doors exploded and quickly the SWAT team invaded the hall of the abandoned factory that worked as an operation center. Zala looked at the door, not knowing what was going on. Screams and shooting noises started to fill the air. He looked at Suji and fear got into his bones when he saw her break into a smile, appearing under the hair that was covering her face “I thought I will have to fight barehanded, but since mister Zala is an amateur doctor, now I have a weapon” It was faster than his ability to react. One of the scalpels that were inside a small trash can went inside his left eye. Suji knew that the hit wasn’t enough to knock down a man like him, but it was very painful, and it will give her time to move from there. “You fucking bitch!” He dashed in her direction, with his fist high up, gaining some momentum. The fist landed in the wall and he saw how Suji moved under his legs, grabbing one of the steel chairs and swagging it towards him, hitting him in the back of his head. “Suji?!, We are in, where are you?”

“Last room to the left! Hurry up” Zala couldn’t understand what she was saying or to who she was talking to, and the pain on his back didn’t let him think. Suji had to move. She grabbed a cord from the floor and went behind Zala, passing the cord around his neck. She was able to grab a stronghold. He kept cursing in Russian, she could understand only half of it. He kept struggling, making it hard for Suji to hold on. He was too big and too strong for her small frame.

Suddenly things looked dark for Suji.

Zala had a gun in his hand. Inside his boots, she thought, feeling stupid. He threw an accurate blow to her head, hitting her with the barrel of the gun. She landed on the floor, feeling dizzy. She could only see his blurry figure move close to her. He mumbled something, but she couldn’t get what he said.

She didn’t feel the bullet sink in her thigh, but the smell of gunpowder stung her nose. “Suji, was that you?”

“Hurry up Minseok!, I got shot!” She heard Minseok cursing and a second later someone was trying to open the door.

“Minseok! It’s closed, use the bomb!” Zala looked at the door and then at her, then back to the door

“Suji, move away!”

“Doesn’t fucking matter, just blow the door!” Minseok obeyed, she was the one in charge anyway. Zala couldn’t understand what they were talking about.

“You better lay down Zala” Suji told him with malice in her voice. But it was too late. She was fast enough to turn herself into a ball, covering her ears and hiding her head from the fragments of the explosion. Maybe a minute passed when the dust started to dissipate and Minseok came to her rescue.

Suji looked like a different person, he hadn't seen her in maybe six months, and she already looked this bad. He suddenly felt enraged towards those pigs “Pick me up, we have to clean this mess” Minseok helped her get on her feet. She looked around and found Zala on the floor, with a big bleeding wound on the side of his head, not very conscious.

“I got you pig, you and your friends can begin to think about fucking each other in jail” He didn’t need to speak Korean to know that she was cursing at him. He cursed the day he decided to bring her from Korea.

December 17 Th

Baekhyun had gathered all of Kyung Soo’s potential business partners at the big dining room at Kyung Soo’s favorite restaurant. It wasn’t that hard. To the call of easy money all the easy people come.

It was a top-secret reunion. All the attendees agreed with it. If someone knew where they were now, it would be a tragedy, to say the least. Twelve people gathered, nine old collaborators and three new ones. Kyung Soo was excited. With a bit of luck, this could help his business. Make it grow.

“My dear friends, welcome '' There was a collective greeting, and Kyung Soo sat with his guests, adopting a solemn aptitude. Everyone went silent so Kyung Soo could start talking.

“We are all very busy, so I’ll give a brief but clear explanation of what I need and what you people can win. Last month, a new bill was sent by the prime minister to congress. Legalization of Marihuana. And not just that. The bill says that the state will sell it, ergo, all the money will go to the government. Now that is very bad for us, the president is taking away a big part of our job!...So this is what I need. That law can not pass. Period. I don’t think I need to explain myself”

“But there’s 26 more of us in congress, of course, we are going to say no to that bill, but what can we do with the rest?”

“Use your best words, your best smile and convince the people from your party. Of course, I’ll do my part, I have people in a lot of places, but I need help” The reunion finished fast. All of them promised to do whatever was in their hands. Kyung Soo gave them a week.

December 17 to December 18

The effect of the painkillers started to fade out. Suji’s eyes opened slowly, getting used to the sunlight that came from outside. It took her a couple of seconds to realize where she was.

She hated hospitals. The smell was unbearable, too clean, too warm. She looked at her left arm, growling at the intravenous going inside her skin. Her head felt heavy, she tried to move, but it hurt too much.

“I see you’re up?” Suji looked at the door, where a tall blond guy got in.

“I’m your doctor, tell me, how do you feel?”

”Good enough to leave this place”

“I don’t think so, the wound in your thigh is still healing, thank god it didn’t reach your bones, it did quite a damage, you will need rehab, but your people told us that they will do that in their hospital, you got a rib splintered, and some burns in your arms due to the explosion…now, we found some other wounds…and…we took care of some of them…are they related with your undercover work?”

“Yes” She didn’t give him the explanation he was looking for.

“Well, you took good care of some of them”

“It’s not my first time”

“For me, it was the first time I saw those kinds of wounds in a female agent” Suji looked straight at his eyes. She hated to give explanations when she didn’t have to, but it was easier this way. One fast answer was better than being asked ten times the same question.

“I had to fuck some of those guys, it was that or lose months of undercover work, it’s not as bad as what happened to all the girls there, so don’t think too much about it, did you give me a blood test?”

“Yes”

“Did you find anything? HIV, Gonorrhea, Hepatitis?”

“Nothing” She was relieved. But she had some questions now.

“What happened to the rest?”

”Well, most of the guys…” She interrupted him right there.

“I don’t give a damn about those bastards, I should have killed those sons of bitches, I’m asking about the kids”

“Oh, sure, well…they brought 15 women and 5 kids, 10 of them are now out of danger, we gave them vitamins, food, and today they came to take their confessions, the other kids are under intensive care now, due to critical wounds and neurological damage” Although it looked bad, those were good news for Suji. They were safe.

Eventually, the doctor left, leaving her with a bad taste in the mouth. His questions remind her of what happened that year. She wouldn’t say this was the hardest mission – her first mission as an agent in North Korea won by far – but the physical abuse was like nothing she had experienced before. But she still considered herself lucky. She wasn’t selfish enough to feel bad about her situation, she saw some girls drop dead in front of her due to extenuation.

She shook those thoughts away. She was alright right now. And all that hell was in the past. For her and for the victims.

After a really bad hospital lunch, Suji got the first visit from someone from the team. With a box of pizza and a bottle of Sprite, Minseok and Junmyeon, her boss, arrived at her room.

“Suji!, I brought someone” Suji bowed instinctively at the sight of her boss. “Miss Yoon, you look great”

“Thanks boss, Minseok? Thank you for saving me”

“Na, it’s nothing, I’m glad we could make it” Minseok arranged the sliding table in front of Suji and put the box of pizza and a glass in front of her.

“Doctor says you can eat normal right now… the first time I saw you I couldn’t recognize you, you are so skinny!! Well, you have always been skinny, but muscular, you know? Now you are just bones, you need to gain those muscles back, I’ll help you” Suji patted Minseok’s head and accepted his proposal.

Kim Minseok was one of her closest friends at the agency. Six years ago he recruited her. Minseok was one of those hidden gems. Her first impression of him was negative. He was small and his appearance was too soft. But when needed, he transformed. And it always surprised her how serious he was towards his work.

Junmyeon walked to the window and looked outside with a brooding face, the angle of his eyebrows kept getting deeper. “Minseok, I need to talk with Yoon Suji, will you give us a minute?”

“No…sorry boss, but she was my partner in this mission, and I’m worried as you are, she got the worst part of it” Junmyeon didn’t answer. He could understand that much.

Kim Junmyeon was known for his fatherly behavior towards his subordinates. It was a double-edged sword, good for the agency, bad for his nerves. Sending Suji to this mission was something that kept bugging him. He never liked the idea, but she was the only option. And her stupid superwoman complex made her beg him to give her that mission. Now, after reading her medical record, he felt as if someone had done that to her little sister. He kept looking outside the window, with his hands inside his pockets.

”I hate this country…is so damn cold, and I feel like in every corner someone is been killed in cold blood…or maybe I have watched way too many spy movies”

“No sir, it is like that, at least that’s the only Russia I have seen”

“I’m sorry you have to see it, I’m sorry I send you to this goddamn mission” Suji rearranged her position in her bed, grabbing a second slice of pizza.

“If you’re apologizing for giving me this job, you can stop right there, we planned this attack with Minseok from the beginning, and it worked out just as we imagined, so I was ready for the beatings, the cold, and the lack of sleep and food, although I will probably need some help getting it over, I have been having dreams…” Minseok patted her arm and sat next to her.

“Boss, the only thing we could do for Suji now is to give her the good news and then take her with us back to Korea'' Junmyeon finally looked away from the window, meeting Suji’s eyes, smiling, for once.

“The trial that will be held next week with Zala and all the people from Svavelsjo, is a mere formality, they infringed too many human rights this time, no lawyer will save them…and since it was such a wide group, each member will be judged under the laws of their respective countries, so some of them will be sentenced to death” Those were the words she wanted to hear. Not only they saved everybody, but also those sadist bastards were getting what they deserved.

She felt better now.

From January 10th to March 23th

January 10th – January 11th

She was abruptly awakened by the sound of her cellphone. It was 8 o’clock, and she had to be at the airport in 3 hours. She got up, turned on the television, and opened the curtains of her hotel room. Although more than a hotel, it was like a palace. The island of Koh-Kood, in Thailand, was by far the best retreat place she has found in several years. Set amidst a tropical rainforest, Suji found a place where she could be far away from home, with no communication whatsoever, but still with the facilities she needed right now. As an expertise masseur, a fully equipped gym, good food and a beautiful waitress who could cover her natural necessities, like breakfast, lunch, dinner, and sex. Because after so many bad experiences with guys, her body only could react to the touch of a woman, and Jayne was that woman. A British 20 something girl, who decided to change the cloudy Manchester for a sunny island. And that girl was knocking on her door, her breakfast was ready. Suji put on some clothes and went to open the door.

“Good morning!” She pushed the food cart inside her room, with her characteristic smile and her beautiful British accent.

“Good morning, how was the night shift?”

“Boring, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be here on your last night”

“It’s alright, we had a nice time the night before”

“True, true, so…are you ready?” She looked around, finding Suji’s only suitcase next to her nightstand.

“I’m ready, I will eat this amazing breakfast, take a quick shower and then go downstairs” Jayne looked at her, a bit gloomy “Jayne, beautiful, don’t be sad”

“I’m not sad, is just…I will miss you, single women don’t come often to this place, you know how hard it is for a lesbian?”

“I can imagine, sorry” She shrugged, and patted Suji’s shoulder, walking outside the room, closing the door behind her. Suji did as she said, and in less than an hour, she was returning her key at the reception.

It took her two days to be back in Korea. In between a plane from Koh-Kodd to Bangkok, scales here and there, and the long ride from Incheon to her apartment, she was finally at home. Or at least what she called home.

The refrigerator was empty, and the place smelled like humidity. With resignation, she took off her clothes, changed into clean sweats, and dropped dead on the couch. It was already midnight, the convenience store in front of her apartment was open, but before anything, she needed some sleep.

≠

Kyung Soo got up that morning feeling like a kid that didn’t want to go to school. Baekhyun went to his room two times to wake him up. The third time, he didn’t give Kyung Soo an option, he pulled his friend outside the bed.

“Kyung Soo, come on, in an hour the guys will be here” Kyung Soo only released a grunt and walked to the shower.

“Boss!” Four guys receive him in his office. Kyung Soo bowed at them and sat on his chair in front of them. He turned on a cigarette, drank from the cup of coffee that was waiting for him, and gave a signal to the guy in front of him to talk.

“Boss, we followed Nam Jangmin, and he indeed has been meeting with that freelance journalist that showed up the other day here asking to talk with you about your business, we took some pictures, Mister Byun has them” Kyung Soo looked at Baekhyun and he gave him a nod. The pictures were clear.

Nam Jangmin was the new governor of Daegu, and also one of Kyung Soo’s oldest business associates. Kyung Soo saw him as an investor. The man looked like a promise in politics, not because he was a good politician, in fact, he was quite bad at it, but he was good with words. With all that cynicism he could run that country. Just when Jangmin was in need of money, Kyung Soo appeared, with a good deal. He would give him the money he needed. In exchange, Nam Jangmin had to do him some favors. Favors that he would ask in the future. With time, Nam Jangmin got hooked on the easy money and Kyung Soo’s hypnotizing voice. But now Jangmin had his first child. Now he wanted to make things right. Kyung Soo could understand that. But Nam Jangmin was an idiot. It would have been easy, Kyung Soo thought, to ask him for a meeting, and explain to him why he wanted to leave Kyung Soo’s side. Kyung Soo would have wished him luck, and let him run free.

But he didn’t.

Nam Jangmin decided to inculpate him. And as soon as someone asked him something about Kyung Soo and his business, someone like that freelance journalist, Jangmin opened his mouth.

“Ok, it’s quite clear now. What can we do?” Kyung Soo only asked out of politeness. He already knew what he had to do, and he didn’t like it too much.

“We could give him a visit”

“Visit him and his family”

“Sure, but we have to be sure, sure that he will not speak, guys…you know how to shut up someone, just do it beautifully, ok?” The four men gave one single nod at the same time, got up and left the house.

“He has a son”

“I know Baekhyun, but he should have known better, now if you excuse me, I need to go out”

“Where?” Kyung Soo didn’t answer and left the room. Baekhyun didn’t bother to follow him.

Kyung Soo climbed the stairs to the temple feeling as if the air was going thin. After two weeks of being locked in his house, it felt nice to feel the cold air in his face, slipping through his scarf. The stairs were still wet due to the heavy rain that fell the night before and some old ladies were carrying an umbrella just in case. He will buy one later, he didn’t know when he would be back at home. There was no line in front of the altar, and as always, he felt a bit anxious in front of it. He looked at the few people going in and out and slowly walked inside. Kyung Soo tossed the coin, put his hands together and prayed, screaming loudly inside his head.

“Forgive me, forgive me, forgive me”. He made a deep bow and walked away. As he stepped into the stairway, a single drop landed in his head. He looked above, frowning at the sky. From one time to the other it went dark. He hated it, each time his people were commanded to do the job, it rained.

After a quick lunch at some ramen shop, he stopped a taxi.

“To Gangnam please” The driver nodded once and took the main street to the left. Kyung Soo didn’t look outside the window, his stare fixed on his hands. After 15 minutes, the driver spoke to him.

“Sir, we are in Gangnam, where exactly do you want me to drop you?”

“In the next corner please” The driver nodded again and stopped once they reached his destination. Kyung Soo paid him, telling him that he could keep the change. The streets were already packed with office workers getting ready for a long night of drinking. Kyung Soo felt sick. He walked faster.

He knocked at the door twice. “Who is it?”

“Customer” The door was quickly opened by a middle-aged woman with a bright smile. Kyung Soo smiled back at her.

“Mister Do, you are here! So long no see! What? Are we stressed?”

“Yes”

“Don’t worry, one of my girls will take care of it, who do you want?” Kyung Soo hated when she talked about her ‘girls’ as if they were flavors of ice cream that you could pick, covered in chocolate and cream. Although he liked that idea.

“Is Sara available?”

“She is, you know where you can find her” Kyung Soo nodded and walked inside the flat. The place didn’t have a name, it didn’t need it either. It was well known between the people that required those kinds of services. Kyung Soo found out about it through Baekhyun. Apparently, one of his classmates at university used to work there. The place itself looked like a normal flat from outside, but the neighborhood said everything. Still, it was a secret place. And Kyung Soo liked that.

He reached Sara’s room and knocked at her door. She was a psychology student at Seoul University. Smart, funny, and sexy. Kyung Soo always asked for her services.

“I thought I heard your voice Kyung Soo”

“Hi” She grabbed his hand and guided him to the bed. He sat, closing his eyes and feeling how Sara arranged behind him, caressing his shoulders.

“Something happened”

“Yeah…I want the same as always”

“Understood” Sara kissed his temple and took off her t-shirt.

The next day Kyung Soo woke up feeling sore and still sleepy. Sara was already awake reading a book “What are you reading?”

“Sartre’s, La Nausée” He joined her, resting his chin on her naked shoulder. “Why are you reading something so despairing?”

“You mean realistic?” Kyung Soo looked at her frowning, pouting in a rather cute way, at least for Sara.

“Is it for your classes?”

“Yeah, I’m preparing for a clinical case that I have to defend, so I’m trying to understand my patient” Kyung Soo started to doze off again when Sara interrupted him.

“Kyung Soo, I like you” Before Kyung Soo could freak out, Sara explained herself.

“No, not that kind of like, I admire you”

“And why is that?” Kyung Soo couldn’t understand why she would admire him. As far as she knew, Kyung Soo was a drug dealer with a lot of money and status.

“Well, first, you don’t stick to the routine that is killing us, you don’t try to demonstrate your existence by appearances, looking for superiority or heroic acts. On the other hand, you allow existence to invade you sharply, it weighs in your heart like a beast…without that…there’s nothing left inside us” Sara’s words sounded like nonsense. He was nothing like that. Sara was saying that he was the kind of man that Sartre approved of, that he was the contradiction of the nausea, and that was just nonsense. He felt like the nausea itself. Kyung Soo tossed the book on the floor and got on top of Sara, looking for that beast that she said he had inside his heart.

January 12th to January 14th

Her plan after arriving home was to sleep. Sleep until her body couldn’t stand the pain in her back due to the horizontal position. But a knock at her door interrupted her. She tried to ignore it, it was probably her landlord. She covered her head with a pillow, going back to sleep, but the knocking continued.

“Suji, let’s go play!” Suji’s eyes were wide open.

“Chanyeol?” She asked to herself. Chanyeol knocking at her door could mean only one thing.

Work was calling.

“Suji, let’s go play!” Her legs worked without her consent. She walked with short, lazy steps to the door, picking up her underwear from the floor and an oversized t-shirt that could cover her body.

“Yoon Suji, let’s go…” She opened her door before he could finish.

“I got it, I got it, let’s go play, just please allow me to take a shower”

“That would be nice because you stink” She kicked him in the leg, making him yelp.

“Minseok said you looked bad, but you don’t”

“Well Chanyeol, I spent some weeks getting back in shape, remind me to hit Minseok for saying that” Chanyeol set his suitcase on top of Suji’s kitchen counter, under the curious stare of his colleague. From inside his suitcase, Chanyeol took a bottle of Coke, a package of chocolate cookies, and a bar of white chocolate.

“I thought you would be hungry, now go take that shower, we have to be at the agency at 10”.

Park Chanyeol was Suji’s coworker. He got into the agency three years earlier than her. How he got hired was kind of special. After spending five years in America studying Computer engineering he came back to Korea after they found him hacking the computer of the dean. He wanted to change his English notes in order to save his scholarship. Suji always wondered how he could survive 5 years in America with that crappy English of his. Once he was back in Korea, with an unfinished career, he began working as an IT in an important high school. Doing his work, which was only maintenance, he found some very suspicious folders in the computer of the headmaster. Curious as he is, he opened them. The folders contained huge amounts of child pornography and some naked pictures of some students. Without telling the police, Chanyeol did a perfectly held investigation that led him to one of the biggest groups of child pornography in South Korea. He found himself with a big scoop that was out of his reach, so he contacted the police. By the time Junmyeon received the case, the only thing left to do was put those bastards behind the bars. Chanyeol, in less than a month, put together names, institutions, bank accounts, addresses, telephone numbers, and emails, all of them related to the culprits. When asked how he did it, he explained how, with a program created by him, he could get a replica of the computer’s hard disc of each affiliate. That gave him full access to their transactions, their meetings, and the names of those who were selling them the images. But despite all the great work, what Chanyeol did was illegal. Junmyeon offered him a deal. He would keep him out of jail, but in exchange, he had to work for him.

Chanyeol was everything Junmyeon needed in his team. Compromised, smart, thorough, and hard-working. And Suji was grateful for that. She has been working with Chanyeol since her first mission, and he had never failed her. More than once, his ability to get into people’s data systems has saved her life.

≠

Kyung Soo looked outside the window and the sun was up already, people down there walking from one side to the other. Sara had already left, not without giving Kyung Soo a last service. He made sure to pay her more than the normal fee. After a short shower, he turned on his phone, finding what he thought he would find.

-Boss, work done. No more worries-

Kyung Soo closed his phone and smiled to himself. It was time to come back to reality.

≠

Suji walked next to Chanyeol as they got inside the agency. The few people there welcomed her with wide smiles. Apparently, for what Chanyeol told her on their way there, everyone read the report from her last mission and now she was a heroine. Some memories from those days threatened to come back. Maybe she would ask for that psychologist that the agency offered her.

When Chanyeol opened the door of the meeting room she met with some old faces. Junmyeon and Minseok.

“We arrived early?” She asked, sitting next to Minseok, hitting him in the ribs.

“No, in fact, you’re late, but let’s start” Junmyeon got up from his seat, walking toward the digital board, opening some files.

“Oh, just the four of us?”

“Yeah, just the four of us” Suji looked at Minseok, asking for an explanation. He gave her a signal to wait. The meetings were held in front of 10 or 15 people. From the boss to the director of the SWAT team. Now it was just those three guys and her. Suddenly she felt unsure about being there.

“I know you are wondering what is going on with this meeting, Why so few people, and the answer is simple. This mission doesn’t need big weapons or teams, Chanyeol please” Suji was a bit lost. Junmyeon was acting somehow vague. Chanyeol got up, excited with the idea of showing his short but fruitful investigation.

“For over 3 years, the police have been behind this man” A passport picture appeared on the screen. Damn fine, was the first thought that came to Suji’s after seeing the picture, and she was surprised by her own reaction.

“Do Kyung Soo, 30 years old, single, no studies. The police have caught him twice, but they haven’t been able to put him behind the bars for the simple reason that they have zero evidence, Not a single picture or fingerprint. Nothing”

“So how do they know is him?” Minseok asked the obvious.

“It’s like a well-known secret. As soon as the name Do Kyung Soo comes up, everyone goes silent, You know what I mean?” It wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“I think so, they know he does it because the guy is a big gangster or something, and probably they have seen him, but nothing more than that?”

“Exactly, and the two times he was arrested, this guy over here took him out” A new picture appeared on the screen. This time a man that looked like a high schooler with a nice suit.

“This guy is Byun Baekhyun, 31 years old, single, lawyer. There are no records about him being involved in Do’s business, but there isn’t evidence that states the opposite. He only acts as his lawyer. Nothing else. But they hang out together a lot” Chanyeol touched the screen, closing Do’s and Byun’s pictures.

“Do’s business is pretty simple. Importation and exportation of drugs, money-laundering, and blackmailing” Chanyeol saw how Suji s’s face broke in surprise. Junmyeon got up from his seat again and stood next to Chanyeol.

“It’s a hard case, and it was sent to us because detectives can’t do more. We need to get inside and get some evidence” He said, signaling at Suji. She looked at Junmyeon and adopted her negotiation aptitude.

“Then convince me, boss” Junmyeon smiled at her, he knew he would get that answer.

TBC

#Kyungsoo #kyung soo #do kyungsoo #d.o #kyungsoo fanfic #exo fanfiction #exo fanfic #d.o fanfic

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babybluebanshee · 5 years

Text

Feedback - A MHA Fic

Hizashi Yamada may be loud, obnoxious, childish, goofy, and frankly have the stupidest hair on the planet...but he's still a teacher.

Aaaaaand Ashido makes five. Sorry, kid, but “tooken” is not a word.

Hizashi made a harsh red line through the incorrectly conjugated verb, then moved his pen over to a legal pad. In large capital letters, he wrote “VERB REVIEW B4 WEDS.”

After he finished writing, he tapped his pen against the paper once. Twice. Then, he underlined his note. Three times.

He moved back to Ashido’s paper, and tallied her score in the corner - a 64%. Not bad, by Ashido’s standards, but it could stand to be improved. He’d have felt slightly better about it if he hadn’t written even lower percentages on Mineta, Kaminari, and Hagakure’s papers.

He sighed and polished off his soda. As was his way, he tried to look at this from a positive angle. He’d known the unit on irregular verb conjugation was going to be rough going in, especially in a language as absolutely insane as English. He taught the damn course and he sometimes had trouble with it. At least now he had an idea of where the students needed the most work before the test on Wednesday. The extra review would be good for all of them. And hey, maybe he could do some browsing online and try to find some review games. Those seemed to help when the kids were struggling with sentence structure.

Hizashi smiled as he tossed the empty soda can in the wastebasket by his desk. Everything would be fine. Class 1-A was one of the most promising groups of kids that UA had seen in years, and what they didn’t learn right away, they always managed to get eventually. He scribbled a little happy face on Ashido’s page (to complement the one she had doodled after her name), and set the sheet amongst the other graded assignments.

He casually looked over the next, slightly crumpled sheet in the stack. After a moment, he closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. Goddammit, Bakugo...

For the past three weeks, Bakugo had been turning in assignments that were only partially done. At first, it had just been a question or two left blank. Then five or six questions. Then entire sections.

This time, aside from his lazily scrawled name in the corner of the paper, Bakugo had left this entire paper blank.

Hizashi shoved his hand up under his glasses, trying in vain to rub away the headache this would doubtlessly bring on. He was so glad he’d taken out his hearing aids while he graded. Right now, the noise would not have helped. At all.

He marked a giant zero in the corner of the page, pressing so hard he was momentarily afraid he’d rip a hole in the paper. As he set Bakugo’s paper off to the side, his stomach clenched in hunger. This was as good a stopping point as any, he supposed. Time to find something to constitute dinner.

He padded down the hall and into the kitchen. Just as he was trying to decide if he felt motivated enough to go through the trouble of cooking vegetables and meat for some ramen, or just blasting it in the microwave and eating like a poor college kid, he spotted the pink bag on the counter, the words “Shrimp Chips” emblazoned on it in cheerful bubble letters. He lunged, quietly blessing Shouta and his pathological need to have a constant supply of garbage food in the apartment at all times as he tore into the foil bag with his teeth. He pulled out a handful and stuffed them into his mouth.

Something soft and fluffy snaked its way between his legs. Looking down, he saw Mame’s two giant green eyes staring up at him from the black void of her face, gazing longingly at the chip bag. Her fluffy tail swished back and forth lazily. She opened her mouth in what Hizashi assumed was a pleading mew. He smiled down at her and shook his head, moving his legs to sidestep her. Mame bounded away from him and jumped onto the nearby table, splaying herself out quite contentedly on the table in a pile of papers, discarded mail, and Hazashi’s school bag. She immediately rolled onto her back and stretched out a paw longingly. She then brought her paw back to her mouth, once, twice, three times.

She was signing “food”. And Shouta said you couldn’t teach a cat to sign.

Hizashi chuckled, swallowed, and then signed back, “First of all, child, you’re not even supposed to be up on the table.”

Mame blinked in response.

“Second, these are my chips. None for you. Shouta doesn’t want you eating anything but cat food anyway. He already feels bad when he has to explain to the vet why you’re so fat.”

Mame rolled back over, letting out a squeak of indignation, before stretching and jumping off the table. Unfortunately, her shifting weight jostled Hizashi’s bag, and before Hizashi could set the chips aside and catch it, everything inside had spilled out onto the floor. He tried to glare angrily at Mame, but she had suddenly become very interested in thoroughly cleaning her front paw. He supposed it didn’t matter. He could never stay mad at her anyway.

He brushed the chip dust off his hands and began to sort through the mess on the floor. Honestly, he’d needed to clean out this bag for a while. Its contents were a mess of lunch receipts and old notes he’d written to himself and playlist ideas for the radio show that had never fully come to fruition. As he crumpled up the trash in his hands, he uncovered his gradebook. He groaned slightly as he began to realize that meant he hadn’t recorded any of the worksheet scores yet, and he was already more than halfway through the pile. He’d have to go back and do them all again.

At least he’d caught himself. And he also had shrimp chips. That sort of softened the blow.

He gathered up the rest of the mess from his bag and put it on the table. He’d sort through it all before bed. Then he gathered up his gradebook, tucked the chips under his arm, grabbed another soda from the fridge, and walked back towards the bedroom.

He flipped open his gradebook with one hand, so he’d at least have it open to the right date by the time he sat down. It fell open to a page near the beginning of the semester. He was just about to shake the book to turn the pages (very nearly losing his underarm grip on his chips), when something caught his eye.

“Bakugo, Katsuki: 88%”

Huh.

His eyes drifted downward, to the next assignment he’d catalogued. An 87%.

He approached his desk, and he began arranging his things to his liking, but he never once took his eyes off the grade book. He scanned the next assignment. Bakugo had scored an 84%.

Hizashi sat down slowly, his chips and the rest of the papers forgotten. He turned the page in his gradebook. Bakugo’s next grade was an 89%.

The next was an 88%. Then a 90%, followed by an 85%. Another 87% and another 89%.

This didn’t make any sense. How could Bakugo start out with such high scores and then suddenly start turning in blank assignments?

He turned the page and got his answer. A 73% was the next grade he saw. It wasn’t exactly failing, but it was a dip in quality, jarring compared to the previous pages.

Maybe the blank assignments weren’t so sudden.

He continued to scan the page. The percentages hovered around the low seventies for a while. On the next page, they dipped into the sixties. Checking the dates, Hizashi saw that these grades began three weeks ago, right around the time Bakugo had started turning in the half-finished assignments.

The decline was steady, until Hizashi finally got to the last assignment he’d recorded. A 58%. A far cry from where they’d started.

His phone was in the corner, next to his hearing aids. He snatched it up and opened up his text thread with Shouta. His husband would be out patrolling right now, but it was still early, and Hizashi hadn’t gotten any breaking news updates on his phone. Hopefully, he wouldn’t catch Shouta at a bad time.

Quickly, he typed, Yo, have you heard anything from Cementoss or Ecto about Bakugo’s grades?

Shouta’s response was quick, taking a little more than a minute. Hizashi was the only person who could brag that Shouta had never left him on read in the entire time they’d known each other.

No. Why? Short and sweet. That was Sho for you.

I’m grading 1-A’s last assignment. Noticed something super weird.

Yeah?

So I’ve complained at you about the kid turning in unfinished work, right?

Many times. They’re enjoyable rants.

Before Hizashi could reply, Shouta sent another message. Do I need to talk to him again about getting his work in? Because I’m sensing the last talk didn’t stick.

Hizashi smiled and replied, Not sure yet. I looked at his grades from the beginning of the semester and they’re good. Not perfect, but good.

Hmm…

Then I started noticing him slipping. He was still handing in complete assignments, but he was getting more stuff wrong. Then he starts handing in this half-assed stuff and his grade just drops more. It’s weird.

What do you think is going on?

Dunno yet. That’s why I was asking if anyone else has said anything. If they had, I was thinking maybe we could have him talk to Hound Dog or something?

Like I said, haven’t heard anything from either of them. They’re not shy about telling me when someone is struggling.

It was true. Hizashi had never known either of his fellow teachers to turn away students who came to them for extra tutoring. And if the students wouldn’t come to them, they had no problem approaching them privately and gently insisting they should. There weren’t many students who would say no to a guy who looked like a walking corpse and someone who could make the parking lot swallow you up.

It just made everything more confusing. He couldn’t think of why Bakugo was doing so much worse in his class than any of the others. It couldn’t be because Bakugo particularly didn’t like him. Not that the kid was particularly fond of any of his teachers, but Hizashi had seen the way Bakugo behaved around people he genuinely hated, like poor Midoriya. That explosive resentment was a far cry from the casual annoyance Hizashi usually saw on Bakugo’s face when they were having a long lecture about diagramming sentences.

Then the word caught him. Explosive.

He thought of Bakugo during training, igniting the nitroglycerin-like sweat that poured off him, and making thundering explosions, loud enough to rattle windows and be heard for miles.

Hizashi’s gaze flicked up to his hearing aids, still at the corner of his desk. English had been a challenge for him because of them. Obviously, learning another language entailed being able to listen to it and pick up the various patterns, words, and grammar rules.

He picked up his pen and tapped it against the desk. Yes, English had been difficult for him, because he’d been deaf since birth. He knew that was the reason.

He could only imagine what it must be like for someone who doesn’t even realize something is wrong yet.

He tapped out a response to Shouta’s last text. I think I know what to do. I’ll explain when you get home. Love you xoxoxo.

Hizashi picked up Bakugo’s blank worksheet. Next to the zero, he wrote, much more lightly, “See me after class.” Then he underlined it. Three times.

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

Hizashi kept his eyes trained on Bakugo as the rest of the class filed out of the room. He thought it pretty telling when the normally cocky little twerp was trying his damnedest to look everywhere but at him.

Finally, Bakugo stood up from his desk and approached the front of the room, hands deep in his pockets. As he did, Hizashu covertly touched the screen of his phone. The video he had queued up began, and a high-pitched whine filled the room. Even though his headphones cancelled out most of the feedback, it still made him wince as his hearing aids worked overtime to process the frequency. It was irritating, but he’d survive. He needed some proof.

“What do you want?” Bakugo muttered tersely.

Hizashi flicked his gaze down at his student’s pocket, where he’d stuffed the blank homework assignment Hizashi had handed back to him. As if sensing that Hizashi was looking, Bakugo crumpled the paper in his fist and shoved it further down.

“Look, I’ll do the stupid thing again if that’s what you want,” Bakugo said, a bit louder. Hizashi knew the kid was trying to intimidate him. He tried it with literally everyone who even looked at him funny.

Hizashi just sighed quietly and replied, “This isn’t about one assignment, Bakugo. It’s about the last several assignments.”

Very few of his students had ever heard Hizashi use his “authority” voice, as Shouta called it. Hizashi honestly didn’t like using it. Most of the teachers in UA were some form of intimidating, and he didn’t want to be that way. He wanted his students to feel like he was a friend, rather than an authority figure. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know when it was time to straighten up and start putting on a teacher voice.

At least the tone had gotten Bakugo to stop looking at the floor and move his eyes somewhere in Hizashi’s general direction.

“It’s not my fault your class is a waste of my time,” the kid muttered.

“Then you should have no trouble explaining to me why your average score on my homework was an 87% until recently.”

Bakugo didn’t answer at first, but Hizashi could practically see the wheels turning in the kid’s head, trying to offer up some angry response that would hopefully scare this prying teacher off.

The high-frequency playing on Hizashi’s phone droned away. It was starting to make his skin crawl. Bakugo didn’t show any signs that he even noticed it.

“Guess your teaching bored me so much it made me drop a few IQ points,” Bakugo offered up weakly. Once again, his gaze was firmly fixed on the floor.

Hizashi took a deep breath, and said, “Bakugo, how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

That really got Bakugo’s attention. His red eyes contracted to pinpricks, and he straighten his whole body to look Hizashi square in the face. “What the hell are you talking about?” he shouted. His words echoed through the empty classroom. “I can hear just fine!”

“Uh huh,” Hizashi said, picking up his phone and showing it to Bakugo. “Then why couldn’t you hear this high frequency that’s been going for the past few minutes?”

For a split second, Bakugo looked at Hizashi like he’d slapped him. Then the familiar rage contorted his features again, and he shouted, “You’re a liar! You didn’t have anything playing on that piece of shit!”

Hizashi held the phone out to him. “Check if you don’t believe me. But blow it up, and I’ll have you expelled faster than you can blame Midoriya.”

Bakugo swiped the phone from Hizashi’s hand and looked down at the screen, studied the video of the high frequency. He tapped play on the screen, and instantly, the dreadful noise filled the room again. Hizashi actually flinched a bit at the renewed onslaught.

He watched his student stare in silent confusion at the video for a whole thirty seconds before Bakugo spoke up again. “I...it...this stupid video doesn’t even have any sound,” he grumbled, thrusting the phone back towards Hizashi.

Hizashi took the phone, mercifully muted the video, and stuffed it back into his jacket pocket. “Now, back to my original question: how long have you been having problems with your hearing?”

“I already told you, I don’t have any stupid problems!”

“Then you’re definitely gonna need a better excuse to explain away these half-assed assignments,” Hizashi retorted firmly. A brief flicker of confusion crossed Bakugo’s face, and Hizashi guessed this was the first time a teacher had actually sworn in front of him. Hizashi took advantage of the confusion to add, “I talked with Aizawa and the other teachers. My class is the only one where you pull this stunt. Incidentally, math and literature are classes that don’t revolve around being able to hear what your teacher is talking about very well. Unlike, say, English.”

Bakugo merely growled.

“Maybe you’ve noticed ringing in your ears? Or that sound is fading in and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you?!” Bakugo’s sudden shout filled the room. Those red pinpricks were back on Hizashi, full of fight and fire. He had no doubt that Bakugo’s palms were roughly two seconds from starting to pop. “If you can’t get it past your stupid, gel-encrusted hair and through your thick skull, then maybe you’re to one having problems with your hearing!”

Hizashi couldn’t help it - he started to laugh. He’d been prepared for Bakugo to insult and demean him (the crack about his hair was almost a given), but this was just too good. And the look on the poor kid’s face - torn between unbridled confusion and an animalistic urge to jump the desk separating them and claw Hizashi’s eyes out - only made him laugh harder.

Finally, Bakugo barked, “The hell is so funny?!”

Hizashi simply reached up and slid his headphones off, being sure to turn his head slightly so Bakugo could see the thin wires running from the insert to the black processor behind his ear.

“I kinda hope I’ve got a problem with my hearing,” he said. “Otherwise I paid through the nose for the world’s ugliest jewelry.”

Bakugo didn’t reply. He just kept staring - gaping really - at Hizashi’s ears.

Hizashi set his headphones down on his desk, and said, “I’ve been deaf since I was born, but I’ve only had hearing aids since I was about six. I wasn’t kidding when I said they were expensive.”

No reply.

“The doctor who fitted me with my first pair as a kid told my parents that’s probably why I cried so loud. I literally couldn’t hear myself and stop.”

Still no reply.

“The headphones serve a double purpose. They protect my hearing aids against damage, and have a backup power source for them if the batteries ever die while I’m fighting villains or helping in a rescue.”

Silence.

“Bakugo?”

“...you mean to tell me those stupid headphones you wear actually have a purpose?”

Hizashi laughed out loud. “Excuse you, but those things are the height of fashion and function. At least that’s what Hage pays me to say.”

Was that a flicker of a smile Hizashi saw on Bakugo’s face? He decided not to press his luck by asking. Instead he said, “Now, will you answer my question or not?”

Bakugo chewed his lower lip a bit. Another beat of silence passed, and then he finally grumbled, “A while.”

“I’d ask you why you didn’t say anything sooner, but I already know why.”

“Screw you.”

“So you’ve noticed some symptoms?”

“...yeah. It mostly started as ringing.”

“Started?”

“Yeah, it’s worse now. Now sometimes people will just...cut out when they’re talking to me. If I’m not looking directly at them, I miss what they say.”

“And I’m not gonna ask you to learn lip-reading just to get by in English class. It’s a pain, trust me.”

“You can read lips?”

“Yep. I sign too. Since I went through a chunk of my life not being able to hear anything, it can be a little overwhelming. I sometimes take them out when I’m at home. Or in a boring staff meeting.”

That one actually got Bakugo to laugh. Or snort, really. But at least it was something other than confusion or fury.

Hizashi smiled and said, “But you’ve been able to hear your entire life, and if it’s caught early, you might not need as elaborate a set-up as mine.” He took a business card from his back pocket and held it out to Bakugo. “This is for a woman named Nanama Sakakibara. She’s one of the best audiologists in Japan. I want you to think about seeing her. Also, I’m no doctor, but I’m pretty sure that your explosions are what’s damaging your hearing, so maybe think about hitting up Power Loader for some ear protection in that costume of yours.”

Bakugo gave him a stiff nod, but eyed the card like it might bite him. He flicked his glance back up to Hizashi’s. “Do I have to take it?”

Hizashi’s smile morphed into a cat-like grin, and he said, “No, of course you don’t have to. I can always keep it to give to your mom when I set up an emergency parent-teacher conference to discuss your near-failing English grade.”

Bakugo narrowed his eyes at him, then silently snatched the card from Hizashi’s hand. “You’re a dick,” he grumbled.

Hizashi merely smiled wider and picked up his headphones, sliding them back into place over his ears. He slipped back into his announcer voice and said, “I’m a dick because I care, sparky.” He gave Bakugo a double finger-gun, and added, “Now amscray before Eraser gets suspicious about why you aren’t at training yet.”

Bakugo began to move toward the door. Hizashi found it pretty promising when he didn’t immediately shove the card into his pocket, with his incomplete assignment.

When Bakugo reached the door, he stopped, one hand on the door frame, his shoulders tense and his head ducked down.

A beat of silence.

Then: “Thanks or whatever.”

And suddenly Bakugo was gone.

Hizashi shook his head. The gratitude was more than he’d expected. At least it was better than holes blown in the walls.

#hizashi yamada #present mic #katsuki bakugo #deaf mic #deaf bakugo #shouta aizawa #my hero academia #mha #fanfic

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vestigialtext · 5 years

Text

Euphorroria

[TW suicide, self-harm]

Imagine you turn around there’s suddenly a perfectly circular swirling hole open in the floor, emanating a hazy purple glow and a kind of pulsing, reverb-drenched celestial siren song, like the single sickest shoegaze riff you’ve ever heard.

You think, huh, wow, that’s a pretty weird trip-hazard, and erect some cordons to stop anyone falling in. But you become fixated on the hole, staring in unblinking for hours. It’s curious, it’s beautiful, it’s sonically enchanting, it’s perfumed with a kind of partially floral, partially cardomomic, partially metallic scent which just encroaches on the sickly-sweet – but you still want a taste.

The hole, as it happens, is a portal to insanity.

This is how I experience hypomania; standing steady-of-foot behind the barrier, gazing at wonder to the insanity, hearing its call but keeping a safe distance.

Mania would see me leap the barrier, approach too close, and invariably slip in screaming.

Psychosis, meanwhile, would see me fall in, try to either fight it or fuck it, turn it inside out and prolapse it back through into rational reality, the fabric of which world begin to collapse as internal and external landscapes collide and splinter into one and other and I approach self-oblivion.

A full psychotic break has only happened twice in my lifetime, and frankly I’m lucky to be here writing this drivel – my second episode, nearly a decade ago, almost killed me and left me with almost impossible-to-comprehend scars I’ll bear for the rest of my life, scars invisible to the observer but forever altering my perception of the world, scars I’ve made peace with but which continue to niggle every day. Without getting deep into the nightmarish details, I tried – and, thank fuck, failed – to blind myself, resulting in bilateral scarred corneas which mean that, while my vision remains entirely functional and luckily unimpaired to any significant degree, I experience constant, curious aberrations, especially in low-light where the world melts into a sea of halos.

Importantly, I’m still alive. I very nearly leapt into the Thames on the morning of 10/03/2010, and not through depressive, I-can’t-bear-to-live anguish, but due to chasing immensely powerful delusions and hallucinations to the same place that almost cost me my sight. There’s a lot I’ve written and lot I will write about my experiences of psychosis – particularly re the corrupted internal logic that catalysed much of my bizarre, life-ruining behaviour in 2003 and 2010 – but not here, not now.

Mania, the losing control of my inhibitions and tripping headfirst into hyperactive chaos, has occurred three times in my life, but only progressed through to psychosis twice. I had my first (and to date, only quickly-controlled) manic episode age 16, following a few months as an inpatient at an adolescent psychiatric in Newcastle (remember when the NHS used to offer those kind of services lol). Up until that point, I had been being treated for major depression, which was my diagnosis until the mania emerged. I don’t quite remember the specifics – I celebrated the 20th anniversary of my bipolar 1 diagnosis last month – but one day it seems the depressive fog suddenly cleared and my mind, robbed of feel-good shit for so long, lurched as far as it could in the opposite direction as some kind of bizarre compensatory push.

Perhaps the flip was inevitable, perhaps it was triggered by a chemical predisposition to mania plus guzzling down combinations of all the anti-depressant variants that could be feasibly prescribed for the preceding three months. Who can say. Whatever the case, suddenly I was bouncing around the hospital halls like Sonic the Hedgehog, talking borderline-gibberish garbage incessantly, getting back deep into abandoned A-level art projects and attempting to start roughly 1,000 extracurricular projects simultaneously. The doctors quickly took notice, brought me down with lithium and revised my diagnosis.

Hypomania, (literally “below mania”), is something I experience on average a few times a year, hitting in waves, usually with a clear trigger. It’s a glimpse at the maelstrom of insanity without actually dipping a toe. Delusional ideas can creep into my head, but I can analyse and dismiss them rationally with a firm “No.” I now have enough insight and experience of my own sensations and mood pattern recognition to usually ward off a manic episode, typically with self-seclusion and/or self-management, sometimes with medication. Zopiclone, a sedative, has proven to be something of a magic bullet at sniping down incoming mania, so I try to keep a stash handy – I popped one Saturday gone just to try and keep the train on the rails after barely sleeping for two weeks straight.

After accepting I was an alcoholic six years ago, I’ve gone entirely teetotal, and that itself has greatly improved my ability to monitor myself, to try and regulate my own mood – previously, I’d (technically binge)-drink more or less every single day, and drown out any troublesome hypomanic episode with even more booze, remaining entirely functional (if prone to starting each day with a big purging sick and then having a couple of practically clockwork spew breaks at work) until my liver and my nervous system started wildly red-flagging at the sheer relentless demands I was asking of them, the perpetual nature of my misguided self-medication, so I decided to stop dead drinking or risk further ruining my health.

Without in any way wishing to belittle or underestimate the impact of the disease (severe, bulk-of-a-year depression episodes have also nearly killed me) I feel like depression is something even people who don’t suffer from mental health problems can at least begin to comprehend, can take a stab at imagining the experience. Perhaps not the depths – the eroding, claustrophobic mental space, the glimmer of hope on the horizon disappearing into darkness, all sensory input turning to a grey mush, the head-in-a–tomb depersonalisation – but most people can relate to being “sad”, most people have experienced tragedy at some point in their lives. Hypomania, however, is a trickier prospect to explain. But I’ll try.

I can’t speak for others who experience the condition, but in my case, hypomania manifests itself across my whole physical, mental, emotional spectrum. Although other factors come into play, the biggest single trigger for me seems to be sleep deprivation. It’s no news that circadian rhythms and bipolar disorder are intrinsically interlinked, and I have very real first-hand experience. As a shiftworker (occasional nightshift worker) who lives on the opposite side of London to my office and has a four-month old daughter, my current sleep hygiene is pretty... ropey to say the least, so I’m trying to be extra vigilant. A few nights back-to-back of little sleep (I’m talking a hour or two, at the best of times my sleep is shit anyway and five hours is a good stint) I can often feel my mood changing gears.

Simply put, when I’m hypomanic, the world is a more engaging place; more detail fills the cracks, more edges pique my interest. All of my senses sharpen up – my vision becomes cleaner, brighter, more vivid, sound seemingly has additional frequency space, imperceptible before. My senses of smell and taste overwhelm me, aromas become intoxicating and normal food takes on gourmet qualities. My energy level skyrockets without any additional external input; I have much more impetus, enthusiasm about life, work, whatever. I can literally feel my mind starting to function differently – but not necessarily more efficiently – taking shortcuts, randomly accessing memories in remarkable detail without any prompt. I can think faster, but with less focus; I’m more distractible and will happily shoot off on wild tangents with complete disregard for my goal. Depending on circumstances at home or work, hypomania is a mixed bag – any lethargy is dispelled and my agency and job satisfaction is heightened, but I might, say, approach 20 tasks simultaneously when sequentially would be more rational.

Depending on social context, I expend varyingly extreme amounts of effort to varying degrees of success attempting to mask a hypomanic episode. You know how your body never really “heals”, and scurvy horrifyingly opens up old scars and shit? That’s kind of what my ever-simmering mental illness feels like when i’m consistently deprived of sleep for whatever reason, the cracks start appearing and it kinda seeps out a bit lol. I am well aware my hypomanic demeanour and delivery can alarm people, and I do try really, really, really hard to suppress things or if absolutely required, just remove myself from situations where a lasting, detrimental opinion could be formed. I am also fully aware I can become borderline intolerable to my long-suffering and remarkably patient wife, and I try to mitigate the condition’s impact on domesticity, again, only ever partially-successfully (sorry, Kate). On any given day, high, low, or creamy middle, I’d estimate around about 90% of my effort is put towards just trying to appear normal to others, trying to blend in. I imagine many other mentally ill people are broadly intolerant to open-plan hotdesking (not to mention the insatiable clock-in-and-hit-marks demands of capitalism).

I can physically feel my body “running hotter” when I’m hypomanic, like an overclocked CPU frazzling on a motherboard; headaches spark quickly if I don’t drink enough water. I’m not especially clued up on chemical synthesis of naturally-occurring hormones etc. but I kinda get the impression hypomania is little like organic, high-on-your-own-supply MDMA.

Hypomania seems to foster within me a deeper connection to and longing to revisit all of my favourite music, art, writing, films, games, people – chiefly, I go on obsessive listening binges of records I adore. As I mentioned earlier, my hearing changes when I’m hypomanic – songs sound better, richer, more punchy. One of my fondest ever memories of mental illness (sadly ruined by slipping into psychosis shortly afterwards) was walking around out at night listening to My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless on shitty earbuds via a Spotify stream and still hearing subtle elements blossoming from the mix I’d never clocked before; layers of what sounded like processed flutes fluttering under the wall of guitars, gentle tonal ebs and flows, what seemed to be entire hidden tracks I was only just tuning in to, a secret sound world unveiled.

This might well just be wild conjecture, but I like to think maybe some bands – the bands who “get it” – deliberately bury this audio information deep within the mix, only to be decoded by specific mental setups, be they drug-indicted or naturally, hormonally occurring, breadcrumb trails left in the studio production as a little nod by whoever put the music together that they understand the confusion, the dislocation and alienation of mental illness, something extra beyond the lyrics. It might well be bullshit but it brings me great comfort. I’ve put together a playlist of some favourite tunes I suspect were written about hypomanic states, knowingly or otherwise, or instead conjure up that specific vibe.

To be honest, the hardest thing I find about dealing with episodes of hypomania is that they can feel so good it’s very hard to not attempt to stoke the sensation, prolong it, succumb deeper to it. That way oblivion lies; please stand behind the yellow line at all times.

#hypomania #bipolar #mentalillness

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