#and they were like 'you still need a semester of PE' only i think it was already spring of my senior year

[cinematicnomad]

this is incredibly random but my best friend just texted me something which reminded me that for a brief shining moment in our senior year there was a genuine concern that i wouldn't graduate on time bc of fucking P.E.

[poisonedapples]

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter Three

New School and Friendships

Chapter Summary: Roman has his first day in a new district while some bonds are strengthened.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Warnings: Past abuse mentions, mentions of hidden cameras, anxiety, some bullying, crying, and food mentions

Chapter Word Count: 5,860

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?” Roman’s dad turned to face him. Roman felt his whole body start to shake.

“You know how you said that…I could ask for anything from you? Since, uh- since you didn’t know what present to get me last time?”

His dad smiled in a way so normal it was disturbing. “Got an idea?”

“Yeah, uh…I want a canopy bed.”

His dad’s face dropped, and Roman could feel the anxiety and regret bloom through his chest. “You know why I can’t do that, Roman.”

“Please? I know it’s probably a bit much to replace my whole bed frame, but I could make my own canopy for cheaper! I’ve already looked at a bunch of ways online how, I just need you to buy the materials-”

“It’s a no.” Roman’s dad looked angry, and Roman would’ve done anything to run the other direction at that moment. To burst out the door and never come back. “Nice try, Roman, but I’m not stupid. Come back when you have a better idea.”

Roman blinked to fight back the tears. “…I’m sorry.”

“Go back to your room.”

Roman ran up the stairs as fast as he could, wishing more than anything that there was a lock on his door. Instead, Roman took his desk chair and propped it against the knob for some kind of security, curling into the corner of his room as he shook and tugged at his hair.

He tried to block out the knowledge of the security camera on his shelf, hidden well but not well enough, pointed right at his bed.

***

Several fast knocks came onto Roman’s bedroom door, waking him up with a jerk. He groggily pushed open the curtain in front of his head to grab his phone and look at the time. Six o’clock on the dot, it read. Ugh.

The knocking on the door didn’t stop, and Roman whined. “What?” He called out.

“Get dressed, we need to leave the house by 6:30.” He heard Logan call back.

“Fine, fine.” Roman pushed the curtains out of the way and practically rolled out of bed, grabbing the clothes he’d organized for himself the night before. He put on a pair of jeans with a white and red t-shirt, nothing fancy but fancy enough for a first day surrounded by strangers. He grabbed his backpack and put his phone and some earbuds in his pocket before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“Morning, kiddo!” Patton chirped as he made breakfast, “Didja sleep well?”

“Yes, I did.” That was a lie. He had some strange dream where his dad was also there, and he only managed to calm down and fall back asleep an hour ago. He still couldn’t stop thinking about it, even if the dream was hazy now.

“Good to hear! Be ready by 6:30 so I can drive all of you to the school. Then once you get there, you can ask about your schedule at the office.” Patton laid down a plate of bagels with cream cheese and strawberries in front of Roman, so Roman began to eat.

Once he finished his breakfast, Roman rushed back upstairs to style his hair and brush his teeth before they had to leave. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at the shower to the left of him and sighed. He touched his hair, feeling the grease slick onto his fingers.

He really needed to shower. He hadn’t showered since he got here, and with how thick his hair was it was really starting to gross him out. He hated feeling greasy and grimy, but Roman hadn’t checked the bathroom for cameras yet and he refused to shower until he did. Though, he knew that was also just an excuse. Roman also felt too tired to take care of himself.

Just brush your teeth, he thought, they told you that if you can’t shower, at least brush your teeth. Greasy hair can be fixed, cavities are expensive.

He spit out the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed out his mouth. He grabbed some face wash and decided to use it as quickly as he could to hold back the gross feeling he felt. It would help him feel a little cleaner, at least. A little more presentable for the first day.

A loud bang came onto the door. “Roman, hurry up!” Virgil called out, “Some of us need to piss!”

“Just a second!” Roman vigorously splashed water on his face and quickly dried it with a towel, rushing out of the bathroom so that Virgil could run in. He sighed again, walking downstairs to wait on the couch until it was time to go.

“Alrighty, everyone got everything?” Patton eventually asked, making Roman crack open the eyes he didn’t even realize he closed. Patton smiled and clapped his hands together when his response was tired hums of agreement. “Perfect! To the car!”

All three kids bunched themselves together in the back of Patton’s car, Roman and Virgil at the window seats while poor Logan was squished in the middle. Roman squeezed his legs together so he could fit his backpack between Logan and himself, acting as a barrier so Logan couldn’t touch him. It was uncomfortable, but it was what Roman had to do.

“So, Roman, are you excited?” Patton asked, making Roman open his eyes again to look at Patton through the rearview mirror. Roman leaned his head against the window.

“More nervous. I’ve never been to a new school before.”

“Well, hopefully you can make lots of friends here! The school is pretty big, so there are certainly lots of options!” Patton laughed at himself and Roman closed his eyes again.

We’ll see about that.

Eventually, after a failed attempt of getting in some extra minutes of sleep before school, Roman felt the car come to a stop. He opened his eyes and looked out the window to see the front of the large school building, kids with smiling faces talking to each other as they walked inside while others looked tired yet excited. Roman wasn’t feeling it.

“Alright, kiddos, have fun!” Patton exclaimed, “Remember to check in with the office for your schedule, Roman!”

All the kids started to pile out of the car, grabbing their bags off the floor to rush inside. Once they were all out, Patton’s car drove away to head for work.

Roman looked at the building as Logan and Virgil walked inside. It seemed huge compared to his old school, where the county was much more rural than here. They still had twenty minutes until school started and kids were already swarming in from multiple entrances, both from the main entrance and other doors connected around the building. Roman walked inside and held his arms close to himself, desperate not to be shoved around by the other students. 

The office was fairly easy to find, considering there was a giant sign over the door in bold, white letters reading Office. Roman opened the door and stepped inside to get in line, feeling a little bit better that he wasn’t the only student having first day issues. The line shrank very quickly until it was Roman’s turn to ask questions, being faced with an old lady who could either be very sweet or the rudest person in the building. Roman could never tell.

“Uh, I’m a new kid at this school, and my guardian told me to come here to get my schedule?” Roman asked.

“Name.” Okay, well, rude it was, then.

“Roman Goldsberry.”

The desk worker didn’t respond, only typed something on her computer and didn’t make eye contact. “Next door to your left of that entrance is the counselor’s office. Your counselor is Mrs. Walters and she’ll call for you shortly.”

“Okay, thank you.” Roman had never scurried out of an office so quickly in his life. So much for a great first impression.

In the other office, Roman sat on a waiting chair and awkwardly glanced at all the college items they had hung up on the walls, waiting until his name would be called. The school day hasn’t even started yet, what’s taking them so long?

Roman drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair and waited. There was a lot of college stuff in this room. Granted, high school’s whole thing was trying to take you to college, his old school was the exact same. And he should really start thinking about that stuff since he’s a sophomore now. He only had two more years left after this, but it’s not like he could go anyway. He wasn’t even supposed to graduate high school, let alone college.

Besides, his dream was stupid anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Roman Goldsberry?” A voice called out, taking Roman out of his thoughts. Roman stood up to follow the counselor into her office.

“I’m Mrs. Walters, and it’s nice to meet you Roman!” She said cheerily as she sat at her desk with Roman sitting right in front of her. “Your schedule was a bit last minute to pull together, but I tried my hardest based on your last school’s transcript and your test scores from last standardized testing. All I need is to schedule some extra electives for you. You have advanced English 12, advanced geometry, advanced biology, and world history. You can also choose Spanish 3 here if you wish to continue that. You also still need your gym credit, so you can take regular PE or strength training. I also have a list of other electives here if you want to look at that.”

“Yeah, I can look.” The counselor handed Roman a paper of all the electives organized by their subject. Well, Roman definitely wanted to continue Spanish, so that choice was easy. Strength training sounded like a fun way to do gym class with less dodgeballs to the face, but it was only a semester long, so he’d need to pick another semester class for the second half of the year. And he could join another painting or drawing class as his last elective, but he’d already taken those at his old school…

Roman gazed at the arts section of the packet, trying to find something he might like. His eyes lit up as he noticed the names of two classes: set design, which was a semester long and sounded magical, and something called sculpture. “What does the sculpture class teach?” Roman asked.

“It’s an art class that teaches you how to sculpt with different things. Like clay, wood, things like that. It’s a very hands-on class if you’re interested.”

Roman smiled. “I want that one then.”

The counselor typed something into her computer. “Have you chosen your other classes?”

“Yes, Spanish 3, set design, and strength training.”

“I’ll put you in strength training for this semester, but next semester you can join the set design class. I’ll email your elective teachers to inform them you’ll be joining their classes, but for now…” The counselor printed off a piece of paper and handed it to Roman. “This is your new schedule. Your first class is English with Ms. Fritz, and her class should be up on the third floor at room 316. Do you think you can make it there?”

“I can, thank you.”

The counselor smiled. “Have a nice first day.”

Roman walked off to head toward his first class, going up two flights of stairs and wandering across half the floor before he finally found his classroom. Thankfully, the halls were full of students desperately trying to locate their classrooms, so Roman didn’t feel as weird. He eventually stumbled upon the correct room number after checking multiple hallways and trying to follow their scattered number system. He looked at the door with a paper rabbit and a book with a phrase reading hop into a good book, and could guess immediately what type of teacher this would be.

Roman pushed open the half-cracked door and stepped inside.

The dozen kids who were already sitting stared at him when he walked in, but quickly resumed their conversations shortly after. Roman glanced at an empty seat off in the middle row near the other end of the class and moved to sit down in it. He looked around at the other kids off in their own worlds, with no one to get excited to see him and strike up a conversation. He was sitting alone in a class where it seemed like no one else was.

Roman got bored quickly with no one to talk to, drumming his fingers on the table and starting to daydream instead.

The long lost princess with the power to see into the future is forced to hide in protected wilderness, Roman thought, picking up from an old story idea he’s had for a while. Can’t have a teen novel without an orphan, so she lives with a guardian healer instead. Then, she needs a trusty companion to not only start her adventures, but to assist her alongside them. Perhaps he could be a peasant boy born with more magic power than the normal peasant has? It sure would be interesting. Or maybe, he’s not a trustworthy companion at all! What if he’s using the princess to promote his own selfish ideals? But as the story goes on, they actually become close friends and he has an intense internal conflict as he turns into the antagonist! Then maybe-

“Alright class, I think it’s been late enough for us to start!” Roman tried not to be aggravated at the teacher for interrupting him. The teacher stood at the front of the class with a wide smile. “I’m Ms. Fritz, but of course I’m sure a lot of you already know that since you had me last year. I teach all grade levels for advanced English, so if you keep down this path you might stick with me until graduation! Now normally, teachers will start their first day with class expectations, maybe a rubric or a supplies list, but I have a better idea! How about we travel across the class and try to get to know each other better? I can pass around a ball, and if you catch the ball, you have to share three fun facts about you!”

A sense of dread filled into Roman after hearing that. He usually didn’t mind games like this since it was a mindless way to pass the time, but he didn’t have any friends to pass him the ball anymore. Was he just going to sit there until the end? Sounded awkward, no thank you.

“I think,” Ms. Fritz said with her hand gripping her chin in thought, “I’m going to start with the new kid.”

Roman perked his head up as all the other kids turned to him. Well, that was unexpected.

Ms. Fritz tossed Roman the ball, and thankfully he caught it without making a fool of himself. The teacher smiled at him encouragingly as he stood up, looking around at all the kids waiting for him to talk. What should I even say?

“Can you say your name first?” Ms. Fritz asked.

“Well…I’m Roman. Uh, I like to paint, I’m half french, and…” Roman tried to think. What else was interesting about him? Something that shared a lot about him as a person?

Quickly, it dawned on him. One idea that I could possibly share, he thought. Well, it’s a bit invasive, but they’re all looking at me. So whatever.

He took a deep breath in. “…I’m a foster kid.”

When Roman admitted that, all the kids seemed to be more interested in him, leaning closer as their eyes widened. It was the first time Roman ever said it aloud, and it was so strange to hear coming from his mouth. He was a foster kid. That was an important part of his identity now.

He didn’t know how he felt about it.

“You’re half french?” Ms. Fritz pulled Roman out of his thoughts with that question. “Do you know any french?”

“I’m fluent.”

“That’s so cool! Can you say something in French for us?”

Roman seemed to think about it. “Quelque chose.”

Ms. Fritz blinked. “Well, I hope it was appropriate to say in a classroom. When did you move here, Roman?”

“Like…four days ago. Very recently.”

“You only got added to my roster last night, so I believe you! How about you pass the ball to another kid now?”

Roman looked around the room awkwardly before making eye contact with a random girl and tossing her the ball. He sat back down and only paid half his attention to what the other kids were saying. Well, at least he didn’t have to wait awkwardly anymore.

The rest of the class went like that. It seemed like a lot of these kids were students that Ms. Fritz had in the past, as well as being students that were also close friends with each other. They talked a lot and made lots of jokes with the teacher, and they seemed really close, which Roman understood since he was the same with his old group of advanced kids. The extra conversation dragged the game out longer than it probably should have been, but Roman didn’t mind. He didn’t want to actually work or anything anyway.

Eventually, the game ended, and the last kid tossed the ball to Ms. Fritz. “Alright,” she said, “That game dragged out longer than I thought it would, but that’s fine! The bells are shorter the first few days anyway. We only have a couple minutes left, so talk amongst yourself if you want, I don’t care. The assembly should be after your fourth bell for the sophomores, so don’t let your teachers forget!”

All the students turned around to talk to the kids around them. Roman simply watched their conversations with no one to talk to himself, realizing how all the new kids at his old school must have felt. It was like looking in from the outside, where no one else could see you. Roman was just…there.

“Hey,” the kid in front of him turned around to face Roman. Roman almost jumped at the sudden attention. “What’s your name again?”

“Oh, Roman. Roman Goldsberry.” Roman turned to sit properly in his seat and leaned in closer. This was a good start! He seems nice, maybe I can make a friend!

“Roman Goldsberry!” He mocked, turning to his other friends to laugh. “That’s such a pretentious name. And very American sounding, by the way. I thought you were French?”

Roman’s shoulders sagged. Nevermind. Eight in the morning on my first day, and apparently I’ve made an enemy before a friend. “I’m half french, not fully french.”

The kid turned to his friends and made a face at them before they all laughed. Roman felt his blood boil.

“So your dad is the American?” The kid asked.

“Yes.” Roman hoped his sharp tone would help them realize not to mess with him.

“Are you close with your dad?”

Roman froze, and the group of kids turned to each other to make faces at each other again. He really didn’t see what was so funny. Who asks a complete stranger a question like that out of the blue?

Before Roman could snap and tell the kid to mind his own damn business, another kid from the other side of the room scoffed. “Mitchell.”

“What? I’m just asking!”

The other kid opened their mouth to retaliate, but a loud and obnoxious bell went off before they could. Kids started to get up to rush to their next class, and Roman joined them. The sooner he got away from Mitchell (who had no right to bully Roman for his name when he was called Mitchell), the better.

Roman rushed out into the hall and hyper focused on the schedule in his hands. World history, room 203. The next floor down.

Roman was so occupied in trying to find a flight of stairs, he didn’t notice the kid trying to catch up to him.

***

The rest of Roman’s day wasn’t half as eventful as his first bell. History class had a chill teacher, which was nice, then next was his strength training class. His teacher was a little confused when he showed up but was happy to have Roman on board. He seemed very strict with his class rules though, and Roman hated that considering one of his rules was they had to change into gym clothes. Which meant Roman had to wear gym shorts.

…Well, guess he’d have to get used to wearing multiple pairs of boxers again.

Besides that, he also got lost on his way to sculpture, so he showed up ten minutes late telling this random teacher he was her student now. At least she didn’t seem bothered. After that, they all went to the sophomore assembly where they were told the school rules and updates, which Roman’s pretty sure he was the only kid who actually listened. Then, after the assembly, Roman went to the cafeteria to eat a lunch that Patton packed him. He hadn’t actually brought a packed lunch to school in years, so the sentiment was…strange.

Not that Roman would complain about an edible lunch, though.

Roman looked around the cafeteria for a place to sit. The place was starting to become crowded as more students got out of line for buying lunch, so Roman needed to find a spot fast. It’d be easier if he made a friend to sit with, but after the morning Mitchell incident, Roman hadn’t cared to try again in his other classes.

That’s when Roman spotted him. A kid with thick glasses eating a fruit cup as he worked on some papers next to him, completely ignoring the world to finish some homework. Roman wasn’t exactly close with his foster brothers, but hey, maybe Logan could prove himself a little useful. He had to be lonely too, right?

Roman took his chance and sat across from Logan. Logan didn’t look up from his papers. “Hey there, nerd!”

Logan glanced an eye toward Roman. He focused back on his work. “Hello.”

“How’s your first day of high school going?”

It took Logan a solid minute before he responded. “It’s going alright. I got unlucky with a teacher of mine, who already gave us a homework packet for the week, so I’m trying to get a head start on it.”

“Really? What teacher?”

“Mr. Owens, he’s the more strict teacher of the two that teach medical technology.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Medical technology? That’s a class here?”

“Yes. I had to do a lot of things last year to get into it, however. It’s part of the intensive medical learning path. However, the extra work is necessary.”

“…Right. What other classes are you in?”

“Advanced biology, advanced geometry, advanced English, medical tech as I just mentioned, German 2, health, and painting.”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Wait, I thought most of those were sophomore classes?”

“And I took freshman classes my eighth grade year. Your point?”

Roman blinked. “…Fair enough.”

Roman brought out his own sandwich and ate it in awkward silence. Logan seemed so focused on his paper that he wasn’t saying a word, and trying to spark conversation with him when he was like this was next to impossible. He felt like he was intruding by sitting next to Logan, the air feeling thick for a reason Roman couldn’t quite place. Once he finished his sandwich, Roman had enough.

“I think…” Roman said, “I’m going to sit…somewhere else.”

Logan didn’t react. “Alright.”

Roman stood up and awkwardly shuffled to an empty spot at a table on the other side of the cafeteria, placing down his lunch box and trying again. Well, he thought as he opened up a cheese stick wrapper, better get used to being alone, then.

“Hey, excuse me?”

Roman looked up at the voice while he was mid-bite. It was the same kid who scolded Mitchell back in his English class, tired circles under their eyes and a gray sweater on despite it being August. Though, Roman had been freezing in most of his classes today, so maybe this person had the right idea.

“Oh- I’m sorry, were you sitting here?” Roman asked.

“No, you’re fine, I just…” The kid looked side to side anxiously. “…Mind if I sit with you?”

“…Oh! No, I don’t mind at all.”

The kid smiled and set their lunchtray across from Roman. “Thanks. I’m Elliott by the way, they/them pronouns.”

Roman’s brain took a minute to process what they meant. “Uh, hello! I’m Roman…he/him?”

Elliott seemed to get happier when he said that. “Nice to meet you. How’s your first day been so far? Besides for you-know-who this morning.”

Roman laughed. “Well, aside from that uncalled for mess, it’s been quite normal. I got lost a few times, but that’s not new for me. My teachers seem quite alright so far.”

“That’s good to hear. We have a lot of good teachers, I think, unless they teach calculus, then they have some serious issues. But so long as you don’t act like an idiot it’s easy to get past those teachers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind! Hopefully I stay on this hot streak, though.” Roman took out a water bottle from his lunch and started to drink it. “But it’s the students I’m more worried about. They all seem so off on their own. Or just outright rude like that guy this morning.”

Elliott groaned, leaning his head on his hand and slouching. “I’m really sorry about him. He can be a huge jerk for no reason. I think he’s just itching for a fight.”

“You seem to know him quite well. Old friend or something?” Roman asked.

Elliott groaned again. “…He’s my ex.”

“…No offense to your type or anything, but…ew.”

“Oh no, yeah, dating him was definitely an ew,” Elliot sighed. “We broke up like, four times in the span of a year and a half. It was a mess. Eventually, over the summer I broke up with him for good. I think he’s still upset about that and taking it out on the first easy target he finds. That, and he’s a jerk.”

“Well, he’ll soon learn I’m not one to be described as an easy target.” Roman gave a cocky smile and posed.

The bell sounded off again, and all the students stood up from their tables and started to swarm the trash cans and cafeteria exits. Roman and Elliott gave each other a look as they also stood up.

“So…what class do you have next?” Elliott asked nervously.

“Let’s see…” Roman pulled out the schedule from his pocket and looked at it. “Advanced biology with Mr. Weber.”

Elliott’s eyes lit up. “Me too! Uh…wanna walk together then? I can show you where it is.”

Roman smiled. “Of course!”

The two kids headed down the stairs, talking more and laughing long after they sat down in the class and the bell rang. Roman continued to whisper to Elliott during class until the teacher gave them both a warning glance, shutting their mouths but smiling at each other.

Even as Roman tried to pay attention, he felt a weight lift from his chest.

He’d obtained a friend after all!

***

The entire bus drive home, Roman spent it texting Elliott’s number that they’d given him right after biology ended. He talked about his last two classes and listened to Elliott ramble about his bad luck with classmates this year, grinning to himself with his eyes glued to his screen until his stop came. Virgil banged his fist on Roman’s seat to get his attention, making him jump and stand up to get off with Virgil and Logan.

During the walk home, no one said anything. Roman was off in his own world and Virgil just looked tired, with Logan staring intently at his own shoes as he walked. Virgil unlocked the door for them all to come inside, and they all branched off into their different directions. Virgil got a snack from the kitchen while Roman and Logan ran up to their rooms.

Roman spent a lot of his time in his room now that he’d gotten the curtains around his bed. Lying there was a lot softer than hiding on the bathroom floor with his legs propped up, and Roman was still confused as to how he managed to get away with installing this. He’d have to make sure Patton never entered his room again in case he planned to rip the curtains off their hooks.

He’d have to make a plan to effectively keep him out.

But for now, Roman actually needed to talk to Patton as soon as possible. He needed to ask for gym clothes, since that was the only thing Roman still needed to get for class, and he wanted to get it over with so Roman wouldn’t need to keep worrying about it. He was almost certain Patton had come home half an hour ago, but Roman just ignored him and stayed in his room. But he had to take advantage of the fact that he was remembering to ask for the clothes, so there was no time like the present to go find him.

Roman hopped out of bed and exited his room, making his way downstairs to the living room. He figured Patton would be either watching TV or doing something in the kitchen, but when Roman looked around, he didn’t see him anywhere. Virgil was sprawled across the couch on his phone, but no one else was around. Roman put his hands on his hips.

“Where’s Patton?” He asked Virgil.

Virgil didn’t look up. “Upstairs. In his room I think.”

Roman groaned and stomped back upstairs. He hated going into an adult’s room, so he instead opened the door and poked his head in so he wouldn’t have to step inside. But before he could get a word out to Patton, Roman stopped himself.

Patton was sitting on his bed with the lights dimmed, his back resting in the headboard, but what shocked Roman was that Logan was there also. He had his face hidden in Patton’s neck as Patton rubbed his back and played with his hair, holding him tight to his chest while Logan sniffled. Roman had never seen Logan emote before, so watching him cry was…disturbing. Roman wanted to run over and rip Logan from Patton to protect him.

Patton looked at Roman in the doorway and smiled. “You gotta remember to knock before entering, kiddo. What do you need?”

Roman forgot the main reason he came here. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton looked down at Logan and whispered something in his ear. Whatever Patton said, Logan agreed with a quiet nod of his head. Patton rubbed at Logan’s neck in a way that made Roman’s skin crawl as Patton began to speak. “He’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s just a little overwhelmed from school today. Do you need anything?”

Roman took a step inside Patton’s bedroom. It made his whole body shift into fight or flight, but he couldn’t leave Logan alone with him in good conscience. “I just wanted to say I need to buy gym clothes by next Wednesday. I’m in a strength training class this semester.”

Patton smiled. “That’s fine, we can go shopping this weekend.”

Roman looked down at the floor. “Well…I was more thinking, like…I go into the store while you wait in the car.”

Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “I need to buy the clothes, kiddo.”

“You can just give me the money. I’ll stay within the budget and give you any left over, so…please?”

Patton’s face dropped a little, but he didn’t get angry, so Roman considered that a win. “Sure, kiddo. We’ll do that Sunday.”

Even after the conversation seemed to end, Roman still stood near the door, shifting on his feet awkwardly. Patton shifted his eyes between Logan and Roman as if he was analyzing both of their mental states, but Roman’s throat felt stuck as he tried to bring out the words he wanted to say. He was so scared, but he couldn’t force himself to ask the question he knew he needed to ask now. Yet his feet refused to make a run for it out the door despite his fear.

“Do you need something else, kiddo?” Patton lightly prompted. Roman attempted to swallow the rock he felt in his throat.

“Can I…Can I stay with you and Logan?” He hated it, but he had to do it. He didn’t know what Patton would try when Logan was vulnerable.

Patton looked down at Logan, and Logan nodded. Patton turned to smile again. “You can if you want, Logan doesn’t mind.”

Roman carefully walked to the other side of the bed, sitting as far as possible from Patton but keeping his eyes glued to Logan. He knew he wasn’t helping much, not saying a word and not even being close, but it was something Roman had to do. Just because him and Logan weren’t close didn’t mean he’d leave him in danger. Even if Roman felt stuck in his head and couldn’t find the power to move his arms.

Roman sat there for a while, watching Logan’s chest rise as Patton rubbed his back. It felt like ages before Logan’s chest slowed and he fell asleep on top of Patton, somehow not caring at all about being asleep in Patton’s presence. Roman’s heart ached for him. He was too trusting and innocent for his own good.

“I gotta do some chores,” Patton whispered, “So I’m gonna tuck him in and let him nap. Do you still wanna stay with him?”

Roman nodded, not being able to get the words out himself. He felt stuck as Patton lifted Logan up gently, petting his hair to soothe him when he stirred. Roman helped by tugging the covers back from his end of the bed so that Patton could tuck him in and let go of him sooner, his hand on the back of Logan’s leg making Roman anxious. Patton tucked Logan under the covers and watched his reaction. After a few seconds, Patton grabbed a squishy stuffed frog from his bedside table, handing it to Logan who curled around it in his sleep. It’d be cute if Roman wasn’t so worried.

“Tell me if anything happens, okay kiddo?” Patton said right as he was halfway out the bedroom door. Roman nodded, only finally relaxing after Patton left and slowly closed the door. 

Roman immediately ran over to lock it. He didn’t have his security bar, but this would be good enough. Hopefully Patton wouldn’t test anything when he knew Roman would be by Logan’s side.

Despite all of Roman’s worries, Logan slept peacefully on the bed. He didn’t shift or seem distressed at all, just snuggling closer to Patton’s stuffed frog and resting. Logan was calm.

Roman sat on the floor to block the door and watched to make sure no one took that away from him.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Vicious

Part VI

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1567.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

________

You spent the rest of your evening like a somnambulist, barely able to concentrate on your projects before you went to bed, barely finishing half of the things you planned for today. Even the change of locks didn't make you as happy as you thought it would. It felt like something between a dream and a nightmare.

Lying in the dark, you stared at the ceiling, thinking of what happened just a couple of hours ago. Why did he do it? Was it just out of habit and didn’t mean anything? Naturally, with his appearance and easy-going attitude, he probably dated many girls and didn’t think much before kissing someone he liked.

Remembering the way he talked to you in the morning, you thought he must have pretended to be shy around you. Thor certainly wasn’t sheepish.

Was it all a sham? Was Loki right about all of them, playing their roles to get close to you? You couldn’t forget the way Thor looked the moment he told you about being smart. It was like something switched inside him, and for a second you saw the real Thor who was far from being your simple, good-natured athlete.

Why did you keep thinking about that stupid kiss even after seeing the man could be dangerous?

Aroused and angry, you tossed and turned until you fell asleep.

____________

Waking up was especially tough, despite the fact you didn't really do much yesterday, meaning you were going to spend your weekend studying. Shoot, and that's when you planned to visit that new chocolate boutique in the city. Maybe you could still make it if you spent more time studying today?

But then again, going to the city alone might be a bad idea. Even if the guys who stole your things were beaten, it didn't mean it had always been the same people following you. The school was full of weirdos, in the end. What if somebody went after you? Steve would definitely say you had to bring one of your guards with you.

Damn. It was better staying in the dorm then.

"Good morning! Are you ready?" Peter's voice broke through the silence, and you flinched, hurriedly applying some lipstick because you didn't have enough time to put your makeup properly.

Well, at least you were fully dressed.

"Just give me a second!" Picking up your bag, you put your shoes on and opened the door, looking at a young guy who's face was lit up like a Christmas tree. "Hi!"

He definitely liked what he saw, and you felt your cheeks growing hot from embarrassment. From the very start of the semester Peter acted very sweet around you, and you thought you could be friends with him. He wouldn't do something as ugly as blackmailing, would he? Thor said it too. Clearly, Steve was exaggerating.

"Did you sleep well? I've heard you changed your lock, so now it'll be better."

"Ugh, I hope so. But I still sleep with my dresser blocking the door." Sighing, started walking, afraid to look in the faces of other students, hurrying off to school.

They must have been disgusted, watching you being friendly with one guy after being all lovey-dovey with the other just yesterday. Although you didn't see anyone in particular, you were sure somebody saw Thor kissing you. And now you were walking the corridors with Peter.

"By the way, what's your Insta?"

What? Your Instagram? Whatever for? Although you had no idea why he needed it, you let him add you, by the time leaving the dorm and walking towards the main building.

Suddenly, Peter got pretty close, his arm on your waist as he lifted up his phone and hummed, "Look here and smile!"

Before you realized what he was doing, the boy kissed your temple, and you heard the sound of a photo being taken by his front-facing camera. What the Hell?!

"Peter!" Pissed at him, you quickly break free and stepped back, but he was already looking at his phone, editing the photo and posting it almost immediately.

You heard your phone buzz when he marked you on the photo.

"That's a good one. You look very cute here."

"What are you doing?!"

"Making a proof we're dating, of course?"

You were taken aback by the sincerity in his voice, and Peter smiled from ear to ear like an excited teenager, showing you the picture: it wasn't that bad, and you looked as if you were slightly embarrassed by Peter's closeness. Oh, of course. He had to convince his friends he was dating you, but he didn't kiss you on the lips that could make other people too suspicious. Instead, friends of Barnes or, say, Thor, would still think it was all for show, and it was their friend who dated you for real.

Shit, Steve's plan was incredibly complicated, and you didn't like it at all.

"Oh, alright." You mumbled, lowering your eyes to the ground, and Peter laughed.

"We'll make a TikTok dance later. If you wanna make people talk, just use your social media." He winked at you and put the phone in the pocket of his pants, resuming walking, and you moved along, your face still hot.

God, what did these guys got you into? You felt like you were lost in the middle of a play, not even having a script to read what was your role in all this.

Before you parted your ways, going to a different classrooms, Peter talked about videogames, the upcoming Resident Evil - apparently, his favorite franchise - and some Dota tournament, but you didn't know much about it, and Peter offered to show you his favorite games "because you can't spend all your time studying!"

He was as careless and sweet as always, but you couldn't get Steve's words out of your mind. Damn, if only you could know for sure that Peter didn't blackmail anyone. Who could you talk to about it? Obviously, not Peter himself, but every time he spoke you had that nagging feeling you needed to talk to him. You barely kept your mouth shut before he went to a different room.

Ugh, why didn't you transfer anywhere else when you still had a chance? Obviously, now you could only drop out of school, and it definitely wasn't something you were going to do.

Luckily, the next couple of hours you were busy with your classes, trying your best to prepare for the upcoming exams. The academy held high standards, and even though you were a good student, it still took lots of efforts to keep up the good work. How Thor even managed to get enrolled, judging by the fact he hated studying and often skipped classes?

Ah yes, he mentioned something about getting a scholarship from the academy for his success in the sport.

By the lunch time you were drained, listening to Peter chatting with an absent-mindedly epxression on your face. Funny enough, Peter's grades were better than yours, even though he spent much less time studying. What, was he some genius like Loki? You felt a little envy.

"I gotta go take my tracksuit, I have PE next," the boy said, and you nodded, throwing away the leftovers of your lunch.

As you stood close while he grabbed his sportclothes, you heard two guys talking behind the lockers to your right.

"Have you seen her today? She's with Parker!"

You tensed immediately. Of course, they were talking about you.

"Yeah, so what?"

"She was with Thor yesterday!"

Watching you froze on the spot, Peter stilled too, listening carefully. Oh shit, you hoped no one cared about who you went with - why should they, in the end - but, apparently, you were drawing too much attention simply because you were a girl among hundreds of male students.

"So what?" The other guy asked impatiently, growing tired of this conversation.

"Are you stupid? She's going out with them! I bet she's looking for a guy." The first student said with excitement, and you cringed. No, you weren't going out with anyone, you wanted to stop the weirdos from following you and steeling your things. Was it too much to ask?

"Yeah, who cares?"

"We have three fucking girls in the whole school, and you don't care if one of them could be going out with you? Besides, this one's pretty. I'd fuck her!"

You felt like you were going to puke any moment. Why on Earth did you decide to transfer to an all-boys school? It was like the whole school were a men’s room filled with stupid-ass guys, and you were locked inside, forced to listen them talk junk.

"You'd fuck a sheep, weirdo. Go get yourself a girlfriend if you can’t stop thinking with your dick.”

Laughing, the guy left, and his friend followed him, shouting something stupid while you breathed out a sigh of relief. Of course, you knew there would be some talk, but you didn’t expect it to be so... gross. Were you really gonna spend the two remaining years here?

Watching you getting frustrated, Peter gently touched you by the arm and said softly, “Don’t worry. They won’t talk rubbish about you.”

“What do you mean?” Suddenly thinking of Steve’s words, you blurted out exactly what you were thinking of the whole day, “Are you going to blackmail them with something?”

“I... what?”

Part VII

__________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic @mariatietacapitu @d3monslust @maybesandohnos @ibeatuptwinks @mangobangi

[shokobuns]

something sweet

maybe having someone to help you out in the stockroom wasn't so bad after all.

PAIRING: itadori yuuji x reader

GENRE: fluff, strangers to lovers

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: almost stabbed, mentions of sharp things (boxcutters and broken glass), making out

it’s not like you had a problem with the same menial tasks everyday.

in fact, you would even say that it was a fun way to spend your free period. it was better than doing some complicated assignment or even having to talk to people with your lack of sleep and patience. coffee never allowed for a proper nap no matter how exhausted you were and your teacher wouldn’t allow that anyways.

it was an easy job that you could do with minimal help. all you had to do was put the beakers away, clean up the floor once in awhile, maybe pop some bubble wrap when new packages arrived. being alone in the stockroom was nice because you were able to turn on some music on your headphones, do whatever dances you felt like doing as long as you were still doing your job. no help was needed or wanted.

“where should i put this?”

you jump, nearly stabbing the blonde haired boy behind you with a boxcutter. luckily, he was quick, jumping backwards with a yelp as you took a deep breath in to process the situation. you didn’t accidentally hurt the boy in front of you, did you? your face falls and the initial rush of fear turns into guilt. “i’m sorry! i didn’t know you were there!”

“it’s okay,’ he responds with a smile, unphased by the fact his shirt had almost been slashed, ‘i understand. you’re probably here alone most of the time, right?”

“yeah, i wasn’t expecting for anyone else to be here,” you sigh before realizing what he had probably walked in on before the whole ordeal, “wait.. did you see me doing anything?”

“you’re a pretty good dancer if that’s what you’re asking.”

embarrassment. your cheeks feel unbelievably hot and your stomach turns while embarrassment settles in your body. this period was your alone time, your chance to flail about and having someone else witness it? definitely not preferable. although, he does seem nice and he hasn’t made fun of you. not yet, at least.

his voice brings you out of your train of thought. “so, where should i put that thing?”

he carries on as if nothing happened. thank god. “the flask goes in that cabinet, bottom shelf. you’ll see more just like it.” you reply, pointing to the space.

he mumbles a quick thank you before doing unloading more of the new flasks onto the cabinet. you work on your own, choosing to count the new magnets on the other side of the room, doing your best to avoid him considering you just embarrassed yourself in front of the stranger by nearly injuring him for asking a simple question. though, he looks slightly familiar, he’ll probably be gone tomorrow and that’s all that matters.

behind you, yuji takes small glances while he puts away the flasks, waiting for you to turn around and ask for his name. hell, he’s waiting for any type of question. after all, who sees a random boy in their work space and doesn’t question it at all?

when the next day comes, you’re proven wrong because he sits in the chair, awaiting another order from you. you curse under your breath before putting on a faux smile. “do you need help with anything?”

“do you need help with anything?”

“no, thanks. i’m good on my own. you can go back to whatever you do in this period.”

he scratches his head, eyebrows furrowing together. “i thought you needed help. that’s what my math teacher told me when he sent me here.”

“not really? i can usually get a lot done on my own. who told you i needed help?”

“gojo. i’m his teacher assistant, but i don’t know how to do the math he’s teaching, so i can’t really help anyone.” he explains

“oh, yeah! i had him for calculus last semester,” your eyes light up at the mention of your favorite white haired mentor, “weird guy. good teacher.”

wait. gojo’s teacher assistant?

you’ve heard your friends talk about him, given that they were in that exact class the blonde haired boy was supposed to be in right now. the one guy that pe teachers fawn over and coaches try to recruit? why did they put him in the math department instead of pe? what’s his name again? yuki? yugi?

“you’re yuji itadori?”

“yuji itadori.” he confirms and you’re relieved. good thing you didn’t mess up his name.

no wonder he looked familiar. miwa was fascinated by his physical ability, you distinctly remember her pointing him out during lunch and telling you about how he was ‘scarily fast’ and could probably ‘lift ten of her at a time.’ although, it was from far away and he was partially blocked by a girl with short brown hair and megumi, the intimidating spikey haired quiet boy in some of your classes.

but yuji didn’t look like someone who could lift ten miwas up close. maybe he was hiding behind the oversized hoodie he wore, but he was a kind looking boy with wide eyes and messy tufts of strawberry blonde hair. throughout the short time you’ve seen him up close, he always had a slight smile on his resting face. in short, he looked approachable and was seemingly friendly.

“so, do you need help with anything?” he asks again and you decide that maybe he can be of use to you. especially if he has the strength that miwa had described.

“actually, yeah. can you lift those boxes over there and bring them to the other side of the room? they’re kind of heavy-”

she was correct because he lifts the box, which is supposedly about thirty kilograms according to your teacher, with ease. now, you don’t have to constantly go back and forth around the room just to put the packaged metal away in a farther cabinet and he can probably just put them away himself, too. it goes that way for the next hour and a half, both of you staying in your respective sides of the room, putting away your own respective items.

“thanks, itadori.”

“call me yuji.”

“will do.”

over the next two weeks, you two don’t talk as much as yuji had hoped.

he still remembers gojo’s words of encouragement, his push to get his favorite student to talk to the person who drops off notes to the teacher across the hallway from time to time. he’s never talked to you and he doubts you would even know that he existed in the first place. in fact, he was perfectly content with just stapling the papers that gojo would give him, maybe getting his own homework done in the period, but he was insistent.

“i’ve seen you staring outside the window whenever they pass by, yuji. just talk to them.”

“it’s okay.’

“no it’s not. get to know her. what if they’re nice? hmmmmm?”

“i’ll talk to her myself at some point.”

that was all it took for gojo to leave him alone, not that he didn’t like gojo or anything, especially with gojo being his second favorite teacher in the first place, but he’s content with his little crush. and again, he doubted that you would remember him in your history class and from the looks of it, he was right.

he just didn’t expect to be sent at the very stockroom that you would be in. for the rest of the semester. gojo had definitely set him up for something.

yuji was in that conflicting position in which he didn’t know whether to start a conversation or not because he didn’t want to bother you. but he also wanted to get to know you up close. of course he can sense your exhaustion himself through droopy eyelids that threaten to close and your dependence on caffeine, something he had learned about you so far in these few weeks. the only thing, it seems like.

as for you, a short talk with your science teacher confirmed that he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon and though you will miss dancing around the stockroom by yourself, he wasn’t bad company. he mostly kept to himself, often being more rigid when you barely spared him a glance. at the times you would speak to him, he seemed more excitable and easygoing, listening to every word you say.

“yuji?”

“hmm?”

“come help me by unboxing these beakers, alright?” you patted the spot next to you before sliding the blade down the tape, “don’t worry. i’m not gonna stab you.”

“i guess i’ll help,” he snorts, “don’t you usually do these by yourself?”

“yeah, but since you’re spending the semester with me in here, we might as well get to know each other right?”

the whirring of the fan, the sound of your voice — it all seemed to fade into the background as his heart thumped hard in his chest. a million thoughts, both good and bad, race through his head as he formulated different questions, answers, and scenarios in his mind, all of them being a jumble of fantasy and panic.

you wave a hand in front of his face in an attempt to catch his attention. he seemed completely frozen, staring at you with dead eyes and it’s now that you realize you haven’t seen him up this close. honey brown eyes, the soft curve of his nose, and were those crinkles under his eyes, too? up until now, you only knew him as the ‘athletic man who was bad at math’, but he was also undeniably beautiful with his carved face and strawberry blonde hair.

“yuuuuuuuji?”

“oh! i’m sorry! did you say you wanted to get to know me?”

“yeah, we’re kind of stuck in this room everyday for an hour and a half together. i might as well find out what your favorite color is or something.”

“red! my turn! what were you listening to when you almost stabbed me?”

“hey! it was an accident!” he giggles, slicing the tape seal down the middle and opening up the package and pointing right at it. “you see that? that could have been me. i should at least know what i’m being stabbed to.”

“meg thee stallion..”

“nevermind. she’s beautiful and i wouldn’t mind dying to her music.”

you snort, thinking up another question. maybe you should ask him about why that megumi guy was so gloomy? nope, might get too personal. what about the reason he’s here? nope, you already know.

“why don’t you do any sports even though you’re literally physically gifted?” you ask curiously. there’s still a smile on his face, but his expression becomes more wistful. you didn’t accidentally hit a spot, did you?

“my grandpa is in the hospital,” oh shit, you think, “i visit him everyday and if i was on a team, i would have to go to practice at the same time.”

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to hit a sensitive topic, but that’s sweet of you.’

“i don’t mind. and i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable.”

“no, it’s alright. let’s just keep asking questions then, okay?”

he nods.

in one hour, you learn that yuji itadori also likes karaoke, rice bowls, and that he’s just as bad at science than math. ironic. and yuji enjoys getting to know more about you, falling into easy conversation, becoming less of a nervous wreck. the more you speak, the deeper he falls into the trance and he silently thanks gojo for letting him get a closer look because you’re even better than what he could have imagined.

but the period is coming to an end and it’s time for him to carry off the last box of beakers to his side of the room. at least there’s time for another question and it’s his turn to ask.

“what’s your type?”

you place your fingers on your chin as you think for a moment, finding a common trait in every crush for a proper answer.

“i guess my type would be sweet boys. with pretty faces, like you, i guess.”

the response is nonchalant and you don’t think twice about it. maybe you were a little too tired to process how he’d interpret it or maybe a little too tired to filter yourself, but it slips out of your mouth like butter and you’re completely unphased. shameless, even.

meanwhile, the box drops to the ground and like before, every other noise besides his own heartbeat fades into the background, even the sound of shattering glass. heat creeps of his neck into his cheeks until his face is burning, his feet stuck in their place and his palms becoming uncomfortably sweaty. his mouth is wide open, but no words come out.

“yuji! we need to clean this, hurry up!”

your voice brings him out of his thoughts as he realizes what’s been done and immediately snaps back to carefully, but quickly, picking up the shards of glass and placing them in this box. “i-i’m sorry!”

“don’t worry. just leave the box on the counter and we’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

maybe you didn’t quite realize what you had said or what effect you had on him during that time in the stockroom because you continue everyday as if nothing happened.

it’s been, what? a little over a three weeks? and sitting next to you still causes his mind to go to odd places, ones with you. he starts to notice little things about you, too. how your tongue peaks out of your mouth when you’re peeling another sheet of bubble wrap off of some glassware, how you only count in even numbers when you take inventory of the containers.

god, you were adorable.

“yuji?”

“yeah?”

“did gojo ever tell you that there’s no cameras in here?”

“no? i thought they had security cameras everywhere.”

“that’s only hallways and classrooms. there’s none of them here. do you know what that means?”

“what?”

his head is already turned in your direction, the perfect opportunity to lean in and catch his lips. it’s small and he’s hesitant at first, but before you know it, your hands tangle in his hair, bringing him closer to you. he tastes like something sweet, like cherries, and his lips are warm. one hand rests on your cheek, his thumb brushing against it endearingly. when he pulls away, both of you are panting for air, the packages long forgotten.

“this sounds bad, but i’m glad that you’re terrible at math.”

“thanks.” he laughs and admires the look of your heated cheeks and swollen lips before pulling you back in for another searing kiss.

sure. being in that room by yourself could be fun, a perfect break with menial tasks lacking human interaction. you were far too tired to be patient with other people. but there was an exception.

© this is a work of @crybabygumi, all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, copy, or repost.

[bandgeek4life8]

Guardians - chapter two the lost city of atlantis

Chapter 1

WC: 3, 453

Season 1, Episode 2: The Lost City of Atlantis

Previously on Guardian in Jim's POV "The Nightmares have emerged once more." Pabbie told everyone.

"GREAT GRONKA MORKA!!" Blinky exclaimed.

"And they attend to assimilate an army. They already have the witch Gothel, the bogeyman Pitch Black, the dragon tamer Drago Bludvist with his mother of dragons Red Death, the prince Hans of Southern Isles and Duke of Weselton, the cursed bear Mor'du, the Pirate "Captain Hook" Killian James, and the Boggan Mandrake. And I have a list of who they want. From my visions. But only two people I wish to say it to: Vendel and... James Lake Jr. Because she wishes it."

"Who wishes for me to know?" I asked him.

"Starling."

Some people are chosen for this life and have no choice but to accept its transgressions. Others spend their life completely in the dark about this life we lead. Some, like me, choose to live this life. It is a lot of work for anybody. Not just anybody can get into this life and survive its trials and tribulations. But we were born for this. To become guardians. But I'm not a guardian yet. I'm just an apprentice.

|{[INSERT_OPENING_SEQUENCE]}|

"Welcome to the first meeting of the Druidia Order." I announced.

"Did you have to name us after a planet in your favorite Star Wars movie?" asked the raven-haired time-traveller Wilbur Robinson.

"Spaceballs is not a Star Wars movie, Wilbur." Currently undercover spy, Walter Beckett told him.

Wilbur rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Did your dad teach you anything about Star Wars?" asked blonde enpath/ hockey-player from Wisconsin, Riley Anderson.

"Only that he hated the sequels, he loves the originals, and respects what the prequels tried to do." Wilbur said.

"Can we please get to the topic at hand please?" I asked everyone.

Everyone in the room grumbled out a yes and we continued with the precedings. Wow. That sounds way too formal for me.

"Well what can we do? We already made allies with the Arendelle trolls via Elsa and Anna. We had Grand Pabbie alert the Trollhunter of the Nightmares." said Ted Wiggins.

"Which means a group of you have to go find the essence stones." Megamind appeared with a plate of, "who wants cookies?"

"Are you growing soft on us, Meg?" Megamind basically growled at Wilbur for the nickname he used.

"I am trying to babysit Gru's oldest daughter and her friends." Megamind told him looking the kid dead in the eye.

"What do you know of the essence stones?" I asked him, ignoring the intense staredown happening between the two makes.

Megamind turned his attention away from Wilbur only for the time-traveller to blow a raspberry at him and Megamind to turn back and glare at him I rolled my eyes. The same old stupid antics. "I know where you can find the essence stone of the ocean."

"If you tell me we have to befriend Poseidon or-."

"It's in Atlantis." Megamind said.

"Or that." I facepalmed. "And how would you know that?"

"Because I have an evil underwater lair in the city of Atlantis." Cue another facepalm from me.

"And why...? You know what? I don't want to know. So how are we getting there?" I asked.

"It's not a matter of how we, but rather how who is getting there." Megamind said.

"That makes no sense whatsoever, dude." Hiro said as he walked into the room followed by Lucy Tuchi.

"Some of us will go on the mission while the rest research the rest of the essence stones." Megamind suggested.

"You know... your ideas are normally terrible. But this one is actually a good idea." Wilbur told him.

The alien growled. "Easy now, Megamind. When we heading out? And who is coming along for the ride?"

"You, Rayla, Ezran, Callum, Sisu, Hiccup, Jack, Light Furry, Walter, and Toothless." Megamind told us. "And you will leave tomorrow. After school."

"Alright. Before we do anymore planning, I need pizza." I walked over to where Hiro plopped the pizza on.

|{[INSERT_COMMERCIAL HERE]}| "

I cannot believe he has the audacity for this! He knows we're not on the best of terms, and yet he does this." I sighed.

"I'm sure he has a reason." said Hiro.

"It's Megamind. It's a stupid-ass reason." I told him.

Hiro sighed. "But you miss hanging out with Toby and Jim. And you-."

"Don't even finish that sentence. I know what you were going to say." Hiro gapped at me. "I know what you were going to say. Only three people know it. And one betrayed me."

My phone vibrated in my hoodie's pocket and I opened it up to see a text from my grandmother, Margaret. "Is that Marge? What she said?"

"She's wondering about the you-know-what with the you-know-who." I told him. She wants to know about James Lake Jr being the Trollhunter. Grandpa would not be pleased with this anyway. But he's dead. And he doesn't matter.

"You have gym next block right?" I groaned. Of course I forgot. And why of all days did we have to do the Pacer test today!

"And we're doing the pacer test today too!" I would have banged my head on a locker if we weren't coming from History. "Kill me now! Woe is me!"

"Stop being overdramatic. And I'm off my way to Robotics." Hiro said once we got to the hall where we would part ways.

"Don't take over the world of robotics without your team first." I called out to gim.

"Yeah, yeah. Just focus on making chemistry after gym, but preferably during." the smart-ass called back.

I'm gonna kill him one of these days. Just you wait, Hiro Hamada. I grumbled and continued on my way to the ends of the earth. Also known as gym. Because I lack the athletic ability of a worm. My arms are basically noodles before submerged in H20. I got dressed in my PE clothes and walked outside to the bleachers where I plopped myself down on. Gym. The one class I don't have my safety net to catch me. The one block where I feel alone. Completely and helplessly alone.

"Hey, [Y/N]. Mind if we sit here?" asked Toby.

It was just him and Jim. What on Earth are they up to? I scooted some ways away from my spot and patted the spot beside me. Jim took the spot beside me while Toby took the bench in front of us.

"We haven't hung out just the three of us in awhile, huh?" Toby remarked.

"You both seem busy since the semester started. I can't blame you for that one."  I told them. The pair shrugged at me, but it was a lying shrug. I would know. I do the same ones. "Anyway, what are we doing for our History Project, Jamie?" I looked over at him.

"I don't know. Wanna brainstorm some ideas after school?" Jim asked me.

"Can't. I have a family thing." Lying to them has gotten harder since I found out. Hopefully they don't catch. But they're idiots. They won't catch on... I hope. "I can come over tomorrow after school if you want."

"That... Th-th-th-that'll be gr-gr-gr-great." What's with the stammer? It's weird. "Oh, don't forget about Pig Zombies on Saturday."

"Don't worry. I have it all set in my calendar. So, what time is the movie?" I asked them.

Toby and Jim shared a look. Oh that is never good. "We don't actually know."

"Then, what are we going to do about Saturday?" I asked them.

"We're more of idea men." Like they're any close to being men. "Creating a plan is someone else's problem." Of course.

"You two haven't changed at all, have you? I'll get to work on that sometime this evening. You guys still have email, righr?" I asked them.

"Who still uses e-mail anymore?" Toby inquired.

"Good point. I'll just have Lucy drive us to the theater anyway." I replied. "So, how are you and Claire going, Jamie?"

"O-o-o-oh, m-m-me and Claire?" stammered Jim. That's strange.

"Yes, you and Claire. You two are dating, aren't you?" I asked him.

"Oh, y-y-yeah. We're g-g-g-good." Hmm. Peculiar. But Jim's always been like this when pertaining to Claire. Nothing suspicious about that.

I hope.

|{[INSERT_COMMERCIAL_HERE]}|

Jim

"So, you have a study date with [Y/N] tomorrow huh?" Claire teased me while we walked to Blinky's library.

"What-. Wait! You told her!" I exclaimed to Toby who was on my left side.

"Of course, I did. Dude, you've been hopelessly obliviously in love with this girl since she stole your first kiss on the monkey bars when we were nine. And she-."

"She clearly has feelings for you, but she's not gonna act upon them since you know we're fake dating and all that jazz." Claire said.

I sighed. "You're the smart one. Couldn't you have come up with something... um... better?"

"What? Because a wuss like you was going to ask her out if I didn't say we were dating?" Claire asked him, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

I sighed once more. She clearly had a point. And Tobes seemed to catch it too. "He tried to ask her if she wanted to go see Pig Zombie 6 for her sixteenth birthday, but dragged me along with them because he wussed out of calling it a date."

Claire tapped her chin in thought. I do not understand girls. Then, she did the thing where you smack your fist against your hand in an aha! idea moment. Which is what transpired next. "I have a perfect idea for your movie date on Saturday."

"Am I going to regret this?" I asked her.

"I hope not. I'm helping you whether you want me to or not." Yea me! Internal frown.

We made it Blinky's library in which the four arm troll was talking animatedly to Vendell. About Essence Stones? What the fuzz buckets are those?

"Um, what are the Essence Stones?" I piped up.

"The Essence Stones are the only thing that can combat the Oncoming Storm." Vendel explained.

"Which is why we should be looking for them! We already know where one is! The Sea Stone!" Blinky told him.

"I already told you the Starling has this under control. This is her fight. Not ours. We shouldn't-."

"But then why have Pabbie tell us about the resurgence anyways?!" Blinky cut him off. I don't think Blinky has ever interrupted Vendel before. This is a first.

"Because to warn us of an even greater danger, Blinkous!! One that we have to face on our own! As Trolls!" the elder roared.

I never saw a look of fear as intense as the look that crossed Blinky's face when Vendel told him that. A greater danger? Even Aaarrrggghh! and Draal had the same look as Blinky. What did it all mean? Vendel left the library.

"I don't care what the goat says. We're getting the Sea Stone." Blinky told us.

"And how do we acquire it?" asked Claire.

"Hate Gyre." Aaarrrgghh! cried. Oh.

"And where would we find the Sea Stone?" Toby asked. "It's underwater right? And we can't breathe in water? So is it in an aquarium? Washed up on a beach?"

"I'll tell you where when we get to the Gyre." Claire, Toby, and I shared a look before shrugging our shoulders and following Blinky to the Gyre.

When we got there, we reached the Gyre and hopped in. "So, where are we going?"

"Under the sea. In an underwater palace where there is no water inside located in what you humans refer to as The Bermuda Triangle. Get ready for Atlantis." And before the three of us could protest, Blinky put in the coordinates and we zipped off towards... did he really say Atlantis? And the Bermuda Triangle?

But I didn't have time to question it as we arrived in a palace? And our clothes were soaking wet. But we never submerged in water? You know what? I shouldn't question it. Me and my friends huddled for warmth. It'll be awhile before we're dry. But why isn't- you know what? Never mind. I don't care.

"Okay, so where do we go first?" asked Toby.

"We head for the treasure room. The Jewel of Atlantis is the Sea Stone." Blinky told us.

"Why are we wet, but you aren't?" asked Claire.

"No clue." Blinky shrugged his shoulders.

The three of us grumbled but followed after Blinky with Aaarrrgghh! and Draal taking the rear. This is going to be a long evening. Our little group trudged, our squeaky footprints giving our location to anyone who would be here. And I think someone was here. Because a familiar ball of silver and blue was charging at us. Not us. Me. Followed by a march larger greenish-blue dragon.

"Hi, Azymondias." I said to the baby dragon when he jumped into my arms.

"I see you humans have already met the Prince. Starling's Zym seems to like you Mr Lake." the green-ish blue dragon said. Um... do dragons normally...

"YOU TALK?!?!" Thanks for that, Tobes.

"Of course, I do. I'm Sisu. Starling sent me after Little Azymondias to make sure he stayed out of trouble." Why aren't Blinky, Aarrrgghh!, and Draal freaking out about there being another dragon? And the elf being here?

"You six, now-seven, looking for the Treasure Room?" asked Sisu.

I shivered as a breeze went by. Why was there a breeze? We're in a dry castle underwater! This is just too weird.

"We were headed that way right now!" Blinky told the dragon.

Azymondias coughed. Or sneezed? I don't know. But he zapped me and I yelped and I'm... dry? Well alot dryer than before. Uh, thank you. Living dryer thay could kill me at any given moment. But you're still cute. So you're forgiven if you do.

"Well I wouldn't go that way! That's where Meg put his evil lair at." Sisu told us.

"Lair?" "Meg?"

"Meg is what the time-traveler calls Megamind. And he placed a lair here when he was going through his 'evil' phase." I did not know Dragons did air quotes.

"Time Traveler? Like the Doctor? Or Loki?" askes Toby.

"Looks like a mix of Matt Smith and Loki as a tween with too much hair gel. Alright, kids follow me." Sisu told us.

Zym appeared on my shoulder, wrapping his small body around on my shoulder and we followed the hopping dragon towards the treasure room. We had reached the treasure room, avoiding all the traps (that was on the ceiling for some strange reason). We arrived there. And Sisu peered inside before letting us enter. Strange.

But I couldn't help peering over Sisu's sboulder "Are you really angry that the Trollhunter keeps unknowingly stealing your pet?" That sounded like... no it can't be.

"Azymondias is not my pet. My pet sounds like I chose to take care of him. The bundle of zappy madness chose me to take care of him. So if anything, I'm his pet." Please tell me that's not who I think it is. But the-I'm guessing- Startouch Elf looks nothing like her. Not one bit. Well maybe except for the nose. And the eyes.

"You make absolutely no sense. And yet you love him anyway." the other voice said. A male with slick-back hair. This must be the time-traveler Wow. Sisu was spot on.

"Kids, easy now. We wouldn't want this to get into the wrong hands. Not this close to the Cotillion." A brunette male that appeared to be the oldest of the group. Why does he look so familiar to me?

"I have a question for you, pig snout. Meg said you wouldn't be here. Why the hell are you here? And why are you even here?" the elf asked.

"I stowed away because none of you are smart." the time-traveller said.

"Says the royal dumbass." the female elf sighed. "I'm so young and yet I feel so old." she emphasized. I was half expecting her to do a dramatic fall like they always seem to do in soap operas notthatIwatchsoapoperasinthefirstplacethat'sabsurd.

"I already knew that, dumbass." time-traveler said.

"Go on, Trollhunter." Sisu used her tail to push me toward the elf's group to retrieve the essence stone. "Introduce yourself."

And suddenly I stumbled upon the room making the group's attention turn to me. "Um...hi." Cue the awkward wave. "I'm... James Lake Jr? I'm the... Trollhunter." I held out the Amulet of Merlin. I could practically sense Toby and Claire facepalming at this.

"Starling, I think this one is for you to handle." I now noticed the brunette boy that stood beside the other elf. Is that... Callum Schlott?? Um... I hope if that is him, he doesn't tell [Y/N] about this.

"I am the one they refer to as Starling as you must know. And we don't need you here. To help us." The girl's hand were running up and down a strand of her waist length periwinkle hair. [Y/N] did the same thing when she had long hair. Not the time Jim.

"I think we do. Because the Seastone is missing if you've forgotten." the other elf said. She sounds like Rayla. And sort of looks like her too.

"THE SEASTONE IS GONE!?!?!?" Blinky exclaimed.

"Unfortunately so. Now, one advantage turns out to be a setback." I didn't notice the other brunette who had a black dragon that was acting like a cat by his feet.

"Do you have any leads?" asked Claire as she stepped forward.

"Just a Roman Penny. No clue from where though." Starling told us. "Now, I think it's time you kids return to California. Don'tyouthink."

|{[INSERT_COMMERCIAL_HERE]}|

"So Atlantis was a flopp?" I had already told Draal about the whole atlantis situation.

Luckily mom had another night shift at the hospital, so Draal could walk around freely while I made dinner for myself. Elbow Pasta and Meat Sauce it appears to be.

"Yes, it was, Draal." I turned the TV on and started flipping through the channels to find the one I wanted. "At least, I met Starling. She was not what I was expecting."

"Most elves aren't. You humans expect them to be small and cute because of the Claus, but they aren't." Draal told me.

"Actually, I think," I found what I was looking for. The French food competition show the World's Greatest Chef Competiton. "she was the exact opposite of what all of you were saying. Sure she was a tad harsh to us, but I think she didn't want to involve us in the Essence Stones. Like she didn't want anymore added help. I don't know." A knock sounded on the door.

"Were you expecting anyone?" asked Draal.

"Not that I know. Toby and Claire wouldn't knock. They'll just barge on in." I told him.

And before I got to the door, the door opened to reveal a boy with white hair, incredibly pale skin wearing a blue sweatshirt and brown trousers. "Don't be such a pussy, Hiccup." That was Sisu.

"Yeah, we're only here since Zym wants the trollhunter to be his dragon rider and to train him how to combat magic." white hair said.

"Um... what are you doing at my house?" I asked them as I held my wooden spoon in my hand, ready to strike them if necessary.

"You and Punzie would be great friends, squirt." The platinum blonde ruffled my brown hair to make it messy. My hair now looks like the dragon boy's hair.

"We're here to train you. I'm Hiccup. And this is Jack. Jack Frost." Wait. What? I'm lost. "I live over in Berk Manor. And you have wandered in a den where you cannot get out of." the brunnette introduced.

"Which is why Starling didn't want you to get involved. By trying to help us with the Seastone, you and your friends have put a target on your back. Starling didn't want that. But now we have to help you. To train you. Hiccup here is a Dragon Rider. And even though Azymondias isn't big enough to be ridden. He will be. I suspect sooner than you think, so he's going to train you to ride him. And I and many others are going come here to help you train against magic. Since the people who will come after you to kill you will have magic." Jack Frost told me. Now I'm really lost.

"So let's begin."

@trollhuntersfanatic

[jb2856]

How you Love Me - Chapter 2

TW/tags: 18+, graphic r*pe/ Non-Con scene!!!please be cautious.

Hey guys, hopefully you liked the first part! As of right now I don’t have a posting schedule. And I promise this is as dark at the fic will get.

Give me feedback if you like, it will help me out! This one could also potentially be pretty tough to read, So please tread lightly, if the warnings are at all concerning/triggering please do not read!!

Part 1 part 2 Part 3 Part 4(end)

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Below is the very graphic non-con/r*pe scene. If you believe it could be potentially triggering in anyway please do not read ! — the end of the scene is marked in red, if you choose to continue. The whole fic will not be like this. This is the only chapter That will go into this much detail about it.

—————————

The night was dark, eerily quiet.

The crisp autumn wind blew through your hair, slightly calming your nerves. You breathed in deeply, sighing it out.

Making your way through campus, you had been walking back to your apartment, anxious to get home. You had to take a late class this semester, only needing a few more credits for your degree, the only down side being that you had to walk home in the dark, alone.

Under your boots, the fallen leaves crunch and break from your weight. Feeling uneasy you had sped up your pace, your head had been down your eyes watching your boots smash the leaves as they went, you never saw it coming.

Something harshly grabbed your arm, pulling you back making you stumble. Your heart started racing, you couldn’t think, you didn’t even have the time to react before a mans voice was hissing at you, “don’t make a fucking sound, or I’ll kill you.” You felt the cool metal of a gun on your temple, you began to shake, terrified of what would happen. You were stronger than that you thought, you’d began to struggle against him. He slapped you hard and shoved you forward, pulling you into an alley hidden from view. No one would save you.

You’d been able to scream out, on the hope that someone would of heard you. The man had grunted and roughly pulled your head back by your hair, he grabbed your throat firmly, squeezing, making it hard for you to breathe. After a minute, he’d ripped his hand off your throat, then slammed your head against the brick wall. You’d stopped, gasping in pain, scared to say another word.

Your cheek had scorched against the brick, the soft flesh of your face torn from the force. He held one hand on the back of your neck to reach down with his other to roughly force your jeans down, gun in hand, he’d ripped your panties away to make access for himself.

“Stop please,” you’d cried out, hyperventilating and noticeably shaking, tears had streamed tracks down your now dirty and bloodied face.

“Shut up!” He had hissed once again, shoving you against the wall again forcefully, your forehead had met the wall in a clash of pain.

“Please!” You had been desperate, hoping he’d change his mind and leave you.

Of course, he hadn’t.

“I said shut up!!” He’d yelled, forcibly slamming your head against the sharp brick wall once more, splitting it open with the force. This blow had made your head spin, the blinding pain stopping your fight against him, making it even harder for you think straight.

You’d given up. You were dizzy, all you’d felt was pain.

“Fuck.” He had sighed in pleasure as he forcibly entered you. “you’re a tight little thing.” You sobbed out in protest of his actions, his words making you sick. You’d thought you might have passed out, the blinding pain becoming too much. Eventually he stilled though, finished it had seemed. The man had pulled away from you, letting your weak and used body collapse to the ground without a care. He bent down over you and had padded your pockets down, looking for anything to steal, once satisfied with his findings he’d uttered one last word, “Disgusting.” He’d grunted and spit down on your now bare lower half, he’d shoved his gun into the back of his dark jeans before retreating. He ran away you thought, though you’d passed out before you had seen him go, having felt nothing anymore, nothing but pain in that moment.

————————

End scene/flashback

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Your eyes shoot open, cheat heaving, your throat sore, You had been screaming.

Your mother, downstairs, having been watching television with Maria, heard your screams. She jumps up and races to your room in a flurry.

Your door flys open in a flash, your mother rushing to your side, her hands going straight to work, to comfort you. One hand going to your forehead brushing your sweaty hair aside and one hand landing on your own thats gripping the sheets tightly in fear.

You scream and struggle again, trying to get away, not really being fully aware of where you were just yet. Your brain is malfunctioning, not catching up to its current environment.

“Baby, it’s me! It’s me! It was just a dream, you’re home, you’re safe!” You mothers terrified voice rings out, making your struggle end.

“Momma!” You sob out, like a 3 year old who’s afraid of the dark. You’re choking on your words, wrapping yourself around her, fingers clutching her sweater tightly. You haven’t had this bad of a nightmare since the beginning of all of this, months ago.

She holds you for quite awhile, you’re trembling in her arms. Your mother wants to cry with you, how could her baby girl be going through so much pain? She just wanted to help but there wasn’t anything else she could do.

“I’m so tired,” you whisper, voice wet with emotion. “I just want it to stop.”

“I know baby, I know.” She responds, running her fingers through your hair repeatedly, trying to comfort you to fall back asleep.

Your mother allows herself to cry now, you’ve fallen asleep, head resting in her lap. She wills herself to stay strong, not wanting to jolt you back awake. She slowly removes herself from your now limp body and pulls the covers higher over you, then retreats out of your room, keeping your door cracked.

——————

Downstairs, Maria is still sitting on the couch, not wanting to interfere. Laura walks over and shakily takes her place on the couch next to her, “is she alright?” Maria asks, concerned.

“She’ll be fine, I think.” Laura sighs, “that was one of the worst nightmares she’s ever had.” Maria nods, understanding.

“Come here.” She said holding her arms out, inviting Laura for a hug, Laura sniffs and embraces her back. They’ve been best friends ever since you and Frankie met, bonding over the loss of their husbands, and the friendship their children had found. They’d seen you two grow separately and then together, they recognized the love you two shared.

“I have to go back to work next week,” Laura exclaims, finally allowing herself to break. “I don’t want to leave her alone, I can’t”

“I will come sit and make her meals while you work, I’d love to.” Maria explains, “It would be give me purpose, something greater than sitting around at home worrying about my mijo.”

“Yes,” Laura nods. “Yes, I’d really appreciate it Maria, thank you.”

“Of course mi amiga.”

———————

It’s a sunny Monday morning, Laura’s first day back to work. She’s about to walk out the door, meeting Maria on the steps. “I tried to bring her breakfast, she wouldn’t eat.”

“It’s ok mi amiga, she’ll be in good hands today.” Maria insists, “I try my best.”

Laura hesitates a second, not wanting to leave, Maria just shooing her out. “Ok alright, I’m leaving. Don’t hesitate to call if anything happens, or if you need anything at all.”

Maria nods, “Si si si, go on.”

———————

It’s around 12pm when Maria make sher first attempt, she’s made you something easy to eat. A bowl of fruit, something healthy, but sweet enough for you to enjoy.

Maria makes her way up the steps and down the hall to your room, she knocks and waits a beat. With no answer she opens the door, glancing at you in bed. “Mija?” She says softly.

You’re not answering, she tries again, more pronounced this time. “Mija, I’ve made you a fruit bowl. Something easy to eat. Please take a bite of something. I’ll be up in a bit to collect.”

You hear the door close and open your eyes, turning to look at the effort Maria has put in. Maybe you should. Just a little, not enough to make you nauseous again.

You eat maybe 5 pieces of fruit and feel full, not wanting to eat anything else you turn again and close your eyes.

30 minutes later, she returns, smiling when she sees you’ve eaten some. “Good job Mija.”

Some time later she comes back to just check on you, maybe she’ll try to get you to talk. She walks in and immediately crosses your room to open your blinds, “you need sunlight, it’s good for you.” She states, stubbornly.

You squint your eyes, shielding them from the harsh light protruding from the glass panes. You’re annoyed now, but you don’t say anything. You just turn your head into your pillow to hide from the light, from her.

“I remember when I first found you and my Francisco.” Maria chimes in, chuckling and breaking the silence. You sigh behind your pillow. “I walked in on you guys, together, in his bedroom. I was ready to beat him”

You just stay in your position, not daring to give her a thing. She continues, “so embarrassed he was, his chubby cheeks all red. I scolded him, made you guys keep the door open after that.” You frown, you remember that like it was yesterday. You’d been 17, you’d hadn’t confessed to each other yet. You’d just been messing around with each other, not really knowing what you were doing. He’d had you on your back, your first real make out. He’d been trailing his hand up your shirt when his mother had barged in. You miss the time when your life hadn’t felt so hard.

“I’d accepted you quickly Mija, you’d become mine as much as he is mine. Family.” She sighs loudly, breaking the spell, slapping her hands against her knees and standing up, “te amo.” You can feel your eyes watering, you didn’t deserve this woman. You’re feeling the regret, why have you been treating everyone so horribly. Your mother, you need to get better for her, for Frankie.

“I’m making supper, I expect you down at the table in 30 minutes.” Maria states behind her as she shuts your door.

You could do one meal….right?

———————

Next chapter

[greenbriar-j]

Muscle Memory, full wip, unedited 4.7k, scroll at ur own risk; tagging some people who showed previous interest @halleiswriting @chazzawrites @pe-ersona @druidx and also @pens-swords-stuff this is what I’ve been up to lately

Saint Joseph’s Catholic Church bustles with activity. It’s peculiar, for it being a weekday. More peculiar still that the bustling is being done by young men and women who could very well be engaging in… more satisfying summer indulgences.

The Youth Group’s power couple sweeps in an hour late, ever put together even when, by all rights, they ought to be melting right out of their fancy outfits. Cheers rise from the crowd when they appear, each splitting off in their own directions to their own stations.

Y Nhi beelines for the painters, flicking her sleek ponytail to make sure it’s out of the way. The girls hand her a brush while detailing what’s left to be done. Vinny bustles for the sound technicians - who, really, are already done for the day, but are staying for the social factor.

Two things to note about St. Joseph’s power couple:

Y Nhi isn’t sure she believes in God very much anymore.

They are not a couple, but it’s easier to let everyone think so than to correct it.

“Jude,” Mary says (everyone calls her Jude because she and Vinny made a big deal of it years ago), “Are you sure you can’t help out during the week?”

Y Nhi shrugs. She’s not busy or anything, but it feels wrong to shepherd children into a religion she’s falling out of - even if Vacation Bible School had been one of her favorite summer memories for her entire life. That’s where she met Vinny, after all.

Vinny, laughing with the guys at the sound booth. To be more accurate, Vinny himself is only smirking, but that’s as close to a laugh as he gets around here. Stupid smirk. Stupid boy.

“I have work. Unfortunately,” Y Nhi mutters, dragging her brush across a cardboard cutout. “Vinny’s taking the week off, so I’m picking up his slack.”

Mary grins widely at that. “I swear it’s like you’re married.”

For whatever reason, Y Nhi’s heart clenches at that. Picturing herself and Vinny in wedding attire on the altar sickens her, but putting a faceless someone in her place makes her feel worse. But it’s not like she likes him. She’s sworn to herself that she’d become a cat lady in her old age - her army has already begun with a fluffy black kitten. It’s not looking too good for her future; Toothless likes Vinny more than her. She’s already failed as a parent.

Belatedly, Y Nhi realizes she’s supposed to be engaging in a conversation, not thinking about Vinny and their co-parenting of a cat. If it can be called that.

“Don’t hold your breath. The wedding is a long way off,” she says tightly. Like. Never. Never is a long, long way off.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.”

This time, Y Nhi lets the comment slide. She paints while singing under her breath, as she always does. A long time ago, she had no qualms about belting it out, but time has weathered away her volume, reducing it to only this. No one’s noticed the change or found it strange.

The conversation turns to something - anything - else. Degrees, internships, other boys who don’t dress in all black and aren’t named Vincent Truong. Y Nhi listens, but doesn’t contribute.

By the time the call goes out for a lunch break, Y Nhi is finishing three tasks at once. One of the other girls brings her a burger, slathered with ketchup and mayo and tomatoes. Y Nhi thanks her and continues wrapping one of the white pillars in cardboard paper to simulate a palm tree.

Not long after, someone nudges her. Eyes flickering upward, she’s met with the bored eyes of her very best friend. “Bite.”

She doesn’t, not yet.

Vinny wiggles the burger he’s holding in front of her mouth. “Only half a slice of cheese. No tomatoes. Freshest patty of the batch. Eat.”

She still doesn’t take the bait, even though he’s tailored this burger to her weirdly specific tastes.

Vinny sighs. “Jude. No one’s watching you. I promise all they can see is my back.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” It’s true she had a complex about eating in public for a while, for reasons she’s never told anyone including him. “Just not hungry.”

“Not very Gucci of you to lie in the house of God.”

“Not very Gucci of you to breathe.”

“Jude! The fuck, man.” But he’s grinning. Not the half-assed grin he gives everyone else, but an honest, mirthful grin reserved for Toothless and Y Nhi only (usually Toothless. Damn cat).“Just eat this, okay? I’ll eat the other one.” His whole demeanor softens as he picks up the burger she had ignored - the one that is surely cold by now.

She is hungry. After all, the reason they were late is because Vinny had to coax her to every step of getting ready this morning. He even applied her eyeliner with the even strokes of a practiced hand - so practiced that even Y Nhi admits it looks like her own work. If she had a choice, she would waste away in bed for the day, but Vinny has never been much of a fan of that plan.

According to her own plan, Y Nhi had been wasting away since before yesterday’s dinner. Famished might be a better word to describe her present state.

But today is one of those days that she feels guilty cementing the married couple narrative any more than it needs to be. They’re not getting any younger, Vinny and Y Nhi, and just because she’s sworn off marriage doesn’t mean he has. How’s he supposed to get a nice girlfriend if she keeps hanging around?

Objectively, it’s a stupid reason to risk passing out in a church of all places, but something about him just makes her stupid. Always has.

The longer she ignores his peace offering, the twitcher he gets. He finishes his own burger in ten massive bites. When Y Nhi still doesn’t eat hers, he eats that whole thing too. “We’re leaving early. Say an hour? Think about what you want to eat.”

With that, he’s gone. Y Nhi is not hyper aware of his presence as it moves through the open space. She does not miss having him next to her. Not even a little.

-

Y Nhi writes, appetite??? in her journal when she gets home. It’s the third time something of this nature has appeared on its list which isn’t titled - but if it was it would be something like “Things About Vinny T. that Don’t Make Sense.”

Even after inhaling two burgers, he took her out for pho and Thai tea, and he ate so slow that his noodles expanded in the broth. Still, he finished a medium bowl with relative ease, and Y Nhi was content after she’d finished a small.

How does someone who eats like that look like that? It has to be some sort of stupid freaky metabolism. Genetic polymorphism, she thinks, then adds that she might be incorrectly using the term she’d heard in class about two semesters ago.

She writes freeloading on the list. It’s not technically true, but he spends enough time at her place to make it feel like it. Right this minute, he’s setting up the living room to sleep in, awaiting her delivery of the overnight bag he always leaves stocked in her apartment for emergencies.

That goes on the list too. Definition of ‘emergency.’

According to recent months, an alarming amount of things fit under this category of Vinny’s mind. It might be nearing time to stage an intervention, but who’s Y Nhi to tell him to relax when she’s the one bordering on anxiety attacks all the time? Only god knows how many times he’s clutched her shaking hands until they stopped.

Y Nhi closes the journal. Snaps the band over the cover. Shoves it under her pillow. Vinny wouldn’t dare read it to begin with, but for some reason, she doesn’t even want him to know of its existence.

Quickly divesting herself of the impeccable outfit she’d worn for the day, she slips easily into one of Vinny’s large, large shirts and the shorts she affectionately calls game day shorts. Ever since high school, she’s worn them for events that require equal amounts of comfort and courage - or just for comfort, to be honest.

“Hey, loser,” she greets Vinny, emerging from her room. He’s got her guitar in hand, and is humming some tune that she recognizes but can’t place. “Your stuff is on my bed. Have you seen Toothless?”

He nods, and keeps playing. It’s in experience, being stared at with such intense eyes while trying not to stare at the other party’s stupid pretty hands playing her guitar. Fuck him, honestly, she thinks angrily.

Leaving him there, she pours each of them a glass of water in the kitchen. A shadow looms on top of the fridge, and she jumps. “Toothless, baby. Please stop napping on the fridge.”

Toothless is not napping. He stands up, shakes his tiny body and hops to the counter, then to the floor, twining around Y Nhi’s feet before scuttling off.

Vinny is singing now. It’s a new song, she supposes, and it sounds like a love song.

Slowly, Y Nhi moves around the kitchen, making as little noise as possible while doing absolutely nothing. She just wants to listen to Vinny and his new love song without him watching her reaction.

Once she gets past the lyrics about gentle touches and midnight escapades, she realizes something. Re-entering the living room, she deposits his water on the table. “Is that my melody? Why would you steal it?”

The guitar is placed awkwardly on the floor, the neck of it leaning on the couch. “Oh, is that where it’s from? Thought it was familiar,” he says with mild disinterest. “Well, I wasn’t that attached to it anyway.”

“Are you saying it sucks?” Y Nhi settles on the floor on the other side of the table, pulling her knees into her chest. Glancing through her lashes, Y Nhi watches Vinny’s expressions.

“I’m saying I’m not taking your work, you brat.” Then he hesitates. “I mean. Can I, just for one person?”

“What the fuck.”

Vinny twitches, finally. “I… Wrote the song for someone… So I’d like to sing it for her, just once.”

Something vile rises in her throat, and she wishes Toothless would notice her distress. Hugging the cat might make her feel a little better about the fact that Vinny’s written a song about a girl using her melody - and it’s not about herself and for some odd reason, that bothers her.

“Can- Can I hear it?” Y Nhi asks in a tiny voice. It’s easier than No, you cannot take my song to sing to some other girl who will take you away from me.

“Haven’t you been hearing it?”

“Vincent.” Because that’s easier than You colossal idiot, what shit are you pulling after two years?

“Jude-”

She stands suddenly, fleeing to her room. Shutting the door, locking it, she tries to breathe. Of all people, Vinny should be the last person to push her to this reaction. She doesn’t know what to think.

Vinny knows.

Vinny knows where her hard limits are. Technically, he hasn’t passed them. But he’s pretty damn close.

Y Nhi slips into the shower, leaving it on the hottest setting to boil the emotions out.

-

For the next two days, Y Nhi doesn’t emerge from her room. Her phone dies, and she lets it. Her body self-destructs in hunger and dehydration from crying, and she lets it. She stays in bed for most of it. Whether Vinny continues to sleep on the other side of the wall for those nights, she doesn’t know. Nor care.

It’s punishment for believing she might be ready to give love another chance.

-

The third day, a letter slips under her door.

She almost flushes it down the toilet without reading it. Everything is in position to do so, paper fluttering in unsteady hands above the toilet bowl. But she wants to know. What can Vinny possibly say for himself?

Jude. I wrote the song for you. I didn’t mean to steal your tune - honest to god, I didn’t. But when I found out, I thought it was fitting that we’d worked on it together. (“Together”)

Jude, the song is up to your interpretation, but it’s yours. I wrote it from my core, and it’s yours. Charge your fucking phone and check the lyrics I sent you.

Take a shower, and call me when you’re ready. You have a few days’ worth of takeout in the fridge. Please take care of your health; I know you’re not right now. I mean it in the best way.

It cuts off there. Unceremonious and blunt, and so very him. She hates it very much.

Y Nhi charges her phone while she showers. Working quickly because she’s so unsteady on her feet, she does the bare minimum before stumbling into the kitchen for food.

While she nibbles on the stir fried noodles he left, she pens her own note.

Vinny,

I will not read the lyrics. I don’t want to know, and you don’t have to pretend it’s about me.

Your joke took two years to reach completion. Congratulations. I hope I was amusing and that my downfall wall be the stunning conclusion you wanted.

She tapes it on her front door so he’ll see it the next time he comes over. Soon, probably.

Momentarily, she wonders if she’s being rash. Is it so impossible to think that he could find romantic attraction to her?

Then she remembers. Y Nhi is not built to be loved, if her history is anything to go by. Even if she���s wrong, even if Vinny loves her for real, she will resist. Losing him this way is better than the alternative: watching him dissolve to some monstrosity while loving her.

-

Nothing changes after that. Apart from Vinny’s absence from her apartment, they interact in exactly the same way.

Vinny says something borderline rude.

Y Nhi retorts with something blatantly rude.

They laugh about it and move along.

There are no gentle touches to avoid because Vinny rarely touched her to begin with - despite the way he slings his arm around everyone else, he wasn’t like that with her. No arm around her shoulder, no hugs, not even extended contact with her hair.

Y Nhi pretends not to notice when he goes through a full dinner with an arm draped over the back of his friend Justin’s chair. He leans on it, adding the tiniest space between himself and Y Nhi. He still passes her the condiments and spices she likes before she asks for them. He takes her home at the end of it.

This should be enough. Up until now, it always had been. These tiny acts were his long distance hugs. It had always been enough, but now it isn’t, and Y Nhi doesn’t know what to do.

Isn’t this what you wanted? For him to get a life away from you?

“How’s that girl?” She asks on the way home, just because the silence is killing her and perhaps because she’s a masochist. “The one you wrote the song for?”

Vinny looks at her for a brief moment, something like grief in his eyes. It’s a confusing expression. “She hasn’t really talked to me since.”

Y Nhi tries not to sit straighter at this revelation. “Oh, really? Hm. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Something about the word is profoundly heartbroken. She can almost feel the emotions hurtling off him in waves, but he doesn’t lash out at her. All it does is enclose each passenger of the car in a separate bubble. This is the closest they’ve been in a long time, but Y Nhi has never felt so isolated.

Her throat constricts, and her hands start to shake. “Do you… Know why?”

Vinny thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “I think she doesn’t believe me. But I don’t really think it’s me, I think she thinks that love is meant for everyone except herself. She’s pretty bent on self-destruction now, as far as I can tell - No, don’t say anything yet.”

Every girl Vinny’s talked to in the last week pops up in her mind. Which of them seems most self-destructive? If she can’t keep herself by his side, he should at least have someone who can care for him. She could talk to them, probably, if she knew who it was.

“I… She thinks this is sudden, but I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen. Or something. Like it kind of just happened over time, and I thought she knew.”

Fifteen means Vinny’s been futilely in love with someone else while she fell for the guy who ended up cheating on her.

They were happy in high school. It was college that broke them. Distance. The communications became less frequent in an inverse relationship to Y Nhi’s alcohol intake. Her grades suffered, and she convinced herself that she was too stupid for higher education. On his birthday, she drove for hours to his dorm to surprise him, only to find him making out with another girl. Sober.

Not that any level of inebriation could excuse him, but perhaps it would’ve hurt a little less.

Vinny isn’t done. “I fucking cut fruit for her every time we hung out. I did her dishes sometimes. I don’t know, I- I thought I did everything right. My mom thought I was doing everything right.”

“You tell your mom about your love life?”

Y Nhi doesn’t. Her parents don’t care enough to know anything about it beyond that she let go of a future doctor and that she’ll never find another because she’s past her prime. That’s what it feels like, anyway.

She’s literally twenty four. She has time.

“Not really. But they’ve met.” Vinny parks the car in front of her apartment, but he makes no move to get out or to let Y Nhi get out. “Jude, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” she says. Training her eyes on her kitchen window, she thinks about the dishes she hasn’t done yet, the fruit she hasn’t cut yet, and how she hates thinking about it because it reminds her Vinny is fading.

Human adaptability is a remarkable thing. One more week, and this new normalcy will cement itself.

“The girl I love is you. Okay? I’ve walked around the topic for years, and I understand if you’re still not ready for it. But I know you’re getting the wrong idea in that head of yours. It’s you, and it’s always been you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if you let me. I’ll also bow out forever if that’s what you need from me. But I need you to talk to me. I-”

Holy shit, is he about to cry? With wild eyes, she glances at him. If she’s made him cry, he’ll return the favor five-fold. No, she backtracks. That’s not Vinny. That’s the behavior of her second ex, the one that reduced her to a stiff puppet of a girl.

“Come back to me,” he says in a small, strangled voice. “I don’t even care if you break me in the process, but please come back to me. You can do whatever you want, as long as you do it by my side.”

For the longest moment, they say nothing. Then Y Nhi opens the car door. “Can you cut my strawberries for me? They taste better when you cut them.”

-

Vinny washes her dishes and her strawberries and quarters the already small fruit for her. He deposits the snacks in front of her and watches her eat - slowly, since they’ve just come back from dinner, after all.

“So it’s me?”

“Always has been.”

“And you never said anything.”

“I did. You ignored it on purpose.”

“No, I’m just a stupid hoe.”

“You’re not stupid. Or a hoe.”

“You’re always calling me stupid.”

“Not like that, stupid.”

“You’re going to have to undo a lot of damage if we date.”

“I know. I’ve been working on it already, didn’t you notice?”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna get worse if we date.”

“Have you considered therapy?”

“Vinny, I’ll be a pariah.”

“A happy one, maybe.” Hesitantly, he reaches for one of her hands. Halfway, he flips the palm up and waits for her to complete the gesture on her own. “You don’t have to decide right away. It’s just a thought.”

She puts her hand in his a little too eagerly, then pulls back a little too harshly. It feels like touching the flame of a candle.

A defeated look momentarily crosses Vinny’s eyes, but Y Nhi barely has the time to look at it before she steels her nerves and takes hold of his hand again. The coldness of his rings grounds her somehow. “We need a list,” Y Nhi says, “of things. First, you’re going to Google touch starvation.”

Her best friend jerks in a little victorious motion, jamming his knee unceremoniously on the table leg as he does. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“What was that about?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were actually touch starved or if you didn’t like men touching you.”

“And you didn’t ask?” Y Nhi is incredulous.

“How am I supposed to ask? ‘Jude, when I touch you, does it remind you of your sleazy ex boyfriends?’ You’d say no. Like a liar. Or so I thought.” He pauses. “Anyway, this means I can hug you now, right? 24/7.”

“If you ease into it.”

“And you’ll stop wearing those gigantic shirts that literally drown you.”

“...No. What?”

“Okay, never mind, nothing. What else? What other boundaries do we have?”

Of all questions she’s been asked today, this one is probably the most confusing. Her previous relationships are no help; she hasn’t exactly had the best exposure to “healthy relationships.” She’s aware that the bare minimum counts as decadence for her, so the question has her a little frozen.

After watching her face flicker through whatever emotions it’s displaying, Vinny rubs a thumb over her knuckles. “How about this: I have a specific thing I want your help with, and when things come up, we can talk about it.”

Y Nhi nods, though they both know she won’t talk about shit. But perhaps watching Vinny sort out whatever issue he needs sorted will give her inspiration on how to approach this. “Can we-?” She starts and stops abruptly.

Vinny blinks, then feeds her a strawberry slice. “Go ahead.” It’s a tactful move. Putting food in her mouth means she has to chew, meaning she has a few more seconds to gather herself and her thoughts, or at the very least, the desire to continue speaking.

“Can we not label this?” She finishes. “Whatever is between us.”

To her surprise, Vinny nods and acts like she hasn’t asked the bitchiest question of the night. “Sure.” You can do whatever you want, he’d said, as long as you do it by my side.

“And… Get rid of Jude.”

“What?”

“Jude. You remember why I picked that name?”

“Because of some fictional fairy queen that had the same name? You thought she was a conniving boss ass bitch and-”

“Shut up. Saint Jude. Patron saint of?”

Technically speaking, he hasn’t been wrong about the fairy queen bit. Unlike the suckers who fell for Cardan Greenbriar, Y Nhi’s wimpy ass was all in for Jude Duarte, mortal queen of the fae. And it was easier to admit that than to admit the truth that was dawning on Vinny’s face in 3… 2...

“Hopeless causes,” Vinny answers easily. Then his expression sobers. “Oh.”

Y Nhi nods. “But the me with you isn’t a hopeless cause. I don’t want her to be, anyway.”

There’s a lot that goes unsaid, but she’s certain Vinny hears it. Logically, she can’t keep relying on whatever instinct says, He’ll understand because he’s Vinny, but up to this point, it should work out okay.

Gently, he says, “Y Nhi,” reacquainting himself with the syllables of her given name. “Y Nhi.”

“Yes, Vinny?” She says just as gently.

He lowers his voice to a husky whisper, “You’ve never been a hopeless cause. You were a cause for hope.”

-

Vinny’s request is this: that Y Nhi teach him to be soft again.

The request makes her question if she and Vinny exist in the same dimension because who the hell convinced him he wasn’t soft? Hardened, prickly souls don’t master winged eyeliner for the sake of their loved ones. They don’t volunteer extra hours at Vacation Bible School while working graveyard shifts at the hospital. Don’t do the dishes because as much as they hate them, their roommate hates them more.

Vinny is soft, and Y Nhi is out for blood. “I need names, Vincent. And addresses if you have them.”

“My ex,” he says.

An awkward sound emerges from Y Nhi’s throat.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “What? I dated around. Didn’t think I should be hung up on you, but nothing ever went as planned. Anyway, my one ex did a really good job making me become someone I wasn’t. I didn’t like the person she made me, but it was kind of too late to turn around.”

Again, Y Nhi is confused. The narrative is promising, though, so she lets him continue in hopes that it’ll clear something up.

“If you don’t know me, how would you describe me?”

“Vinny.” She doesn’t have an answer, she just doesn’t want to say it. It’s not all good, and they just came back from an awkward fight. Was it a fight?

They’ve slipped back into their normal existence so easily. Nothing has changed, but at the same time, everything has.

“Just- The rings and the black and the tattoos. You’d think I drove a motorcycle or something, right?”

“You drive a Lexus. It’s the same in terms of your fuck boy vibes.”

“Y Nhi!”

“BMW would’ve sealed the deal. How many Hennessys do you drink a night, again?”

A pout settles on his face. She likes this version of him. “I see you get my point. I look like a baddie.”

“Yeah. Bad at life.”

“I swear to god.”

“Don’t do that, that’s a sin. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all.”

“Anyway. You of all people know I am soft, actually. She didn’t like that. And so I gained a second personality and-”

It’s rude, the way Y Nhi interrupts, but Vinny doesn’t seem to mind at all. “So if you’re always soft, what’s left for me to help you with?”

“You’ll see,” he says. “Actually. No, I’m going to tell you. I get embarrassed about my relationships. So if it ever looks like I’m pushing you away… I’m just really fucking embarrassed, at least for this first stage. Do what you will with that.”

- bonus/epilogue -

They return home for Y Nhi’s mom’s birthday. They’ve always rode home together, since they are neighbors no matter where they are. No one finds it odd that they hold hands more than before, that Y Nhi is still averse to touching everyone but him.

They appear at social events hanging on each other’s arms. Commentary about their status as a “married couple” breeze over their heads, but they never confirm nor deny anything. In public, they remain aloof to each other. They show tenderness in only the smallest of gestures.

In private, they are as they ever were. Vinny still does her eyeliner on her bad days, but now she cuddles him on the couch on his bad days. Between the two of them, there are a lot of bad days, days when they almost threw in the towel.

But they didn’t. Instead, they’ve introduced all manner of pet names (Vinny’s favorites to use are love, darling, and lately, em. Y Nhi’s favorites are Vinny and anh). They write songs to each other, for each other, with each other. Every morning, they make the choice to keep loving each other the way they have since they were fifteen - and while they joke that they wasted so much time, it was a necessary time for them to spend apart to learn how to exist together and how to choose each other even when it’s the harder choice than letting go.

Even I get lonely too

It’s not hard

Every question’s got an answer

And mine is you

Where you go then I will follow

All my life

You’re the name that I will whisper to the night

[warriorinthegarden]

Today’s Thoughts: You Don’t Have to Be Perfect

As a Perfectionist in recovery, I'm here to tell you that You Don't Have to Be Perfect! I'm sharing these words because someone shared them with me a few months ago… and although on some level I knew that…yeah, you don't have to be perfect…when he said these words to me it felt like a weight off my shoulders. I literally felt the weight of the world off my shoulders. I honestly don't know where this perfectionism comes from and honestly I didn't know that I was a perfectionist until earlier this year. I am an overachiever. I do push myself to the limit even at the expense of my mental health. I have literally been so much of a perfectionist that I have experienced stress-induced nausea and vomiting as a result of trying to push myself to an extreme level. The funny thing is that no one ever asked me to be at that level. Only I decided that I needed to push myself to that level. As I write this, I ponder over these thoughts of perfectionism. I remember when my mother asked me what my grades were in one college semester and I told her that I got a B in one course and she asked me why I couldn't get an A…? As I stood there in astonishment and loss for words, I felt like a huge piece of shit and a loser. In my head, I knew that I was going through the worst time of my life and the overwhelming stress prevented me from getting an A, as per usual. I was struggling to survive, that's why I couldn’t get an A. I was in the deepest depression, pain, and stress of my life and all I could manage was a B. I think about that question my mom asked me and I think now “because fuck you that's why!” I got a B because that is the best that I could do at that time. I know that I earned that B and while I wanted an A, I know that I couldn't produce an A. My mental health would not allow me to get an A. During that time, I was going through my divorce and I was coming to terms with it. During that time, I also lost my faith. I became the head of my household, working two jobs, an internship, full-time school course load and I was left to raise my 2 girls (my dogs) alone.

As a strong person, you are expected to always be strong no matter what and honestly that is a load of crap. No one ever bats an eye when someone that is not labeled strong, struggles; their struggles and pleas are understood and people offer them compassion (in my experience. I, however, recognize that it's not the case for everyone but generally, yes). But when a strong person struggles, when a track-record strong person struggles, that is unacceptable! That is bullshit. My mother knew that I was going through my divorce at that time and yet still somehow expected me to get an A, to somehow still be strong through it all! No. No. No. I was grieving my marriage and I was grieving my husband. I was grieving our family, our life, and a life never lived. The thing about strong people is that you get tired of being strong! So here I have two struggles: being a strong person and being the perfectionist-overachiever person. And when you can't be both because circumstances in your life challenge those things, you are left feeling like a loser. You are left feeling like you are not enough. You are left feeling like you can't do anything right. And you are left feeling like you don’t deserve to be unhappy. Because fuck you that’s why! That's my new motto.

I am tired of obliging those people that believe that strong people do not deserve to be humanized. Strong people get tired too! And shit, if any strong people deserve extra compassion and kindness when they struggle because if they are struggling then you know that they must really be struggling! Being told that you don't have to be perfect by a complete stranger was the freedom and the permission that I so desperately needed. A desperation I didn't know that I was craving for. I literally felt the weight of the world just melt away upon hearing his words. In that moment, he humanized me. In that moment, he looked at me and gave me permission to not be perfect. For that I will be forever thankful to him because he gave me the freedom that I so desperately wanted. A freedom that I didn't know that I could have because all I've ever known is perfectionism. And see, the thing about perfectionism is that it’s a myth. By definition it is a myth. Humans are not capable of being perfect, everyone knows that and yet we still have this concept of perfectionism. So here we have humans and here we have perfectionism. These two things do not equate. Because we are human meaning we are imperfect thus, making perfectionism an impossible milestone to achieve! And I know this for a fact because every time I decided on a level of perfectionism, I would get to that line and then move the goalpost to another level. I would push myself to a higher level and then once I reached that level, I would move the goalposts again and then again and then again and then again forever chasing the false notion of perfectionism. And for what exactly??? I have no idea. I truly don't.

As I am coming to terms with the fact that I don't have to be a perfectionist, I find that I love the freedom, honesty, and acceptance of it all. I wonder where the hell did I get this notion and furthermore, why the hell did I think perfectionism was a good idea...? Because it's not a good idea! It is a recipe for misery because you will never achieve perfectionism! So because you’ll achieve perfection, you’re doomed to always feel like a loser and a failure. So here you are a “perfectionist” who feels like a loser, like a failure, and like you are not enough. It’s a complete and utter myth. It’s a scam. I am done drinking this Kool-Aid! I'm done. I'm human and I'm going to humanize myself when things are hard and when I am struggling. Because it's okay to be sad when things are sad. And it's okay to struggle when things are hard. If all you can do sometimes is wake up in the morning, that is enough. As a recovering perfectionist, you are enough! I don't think the benchmark should be perfection. I think the benchmark should be “did I do the best that I could today?” Not the best of yesterday, not the best of tomorrow, and, certainly, not the best of somebody else. Did you do the best that you could today? If the best that you can do today is 1% of you, then that is okay. If the best of you today is 98% that's okay too. Just do the best that you can, that's it. And give yourself compassion when things are hard. Allow yourself to be human. And part of being human is not being perfect. It's okay. Forget what Society or your family or what your teachers or what your co-workers, or what your spouse or partner says. No! You don't have to be perfect to be enough. You Are Enough Just As You Are. And if no one has told you before, You Don't Have to Be Perfect!

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

frENEMIES, pt. 10 {Quarterback AU}

Summary: Grayson has some explaining to do.

Warnings: angst

Series Masterlist

"Ever saw something that instantly shattered your heart to bits you could never truly pick up and glue back together because some pieces would always be missing?

Seeing something that makes your entire body feel alien to you, as if it triggers an out of body experience?

So, instead of looking away from the wreckage, you can't seem to move. Breathing becomes a heavy task, swallowing spit feels like it could choke you, yet your eyes are glued to what keeps tearing you apart.

You were right that night. I was being unfair to you and I was throwing around accusations because I needed you to be the bad guy in order to justify my need to save my heart from the pain you could inflict upon me. You were right and the next day I wanted to tell you that in person. I hoped we would finally find common ground and not have to worry about heartbreak anymore.

And I went looking for you, high and low, asking anyone who could possibly know where I'd find you and I did. I found you, quarterback. I found you with a seductive smirk painted on your rosy lips that quickly connected to someone else's. I found you pushing her against a wall and making her moan, the sound that echoed throughout the empty hall and my head for months to come. And I found you there as you two disappeared in some storage room where my imagination painted the picture of what happened next and let me tell you, there is nothing worse than allowing your imagination to paint a picture of anything.

Was she worth it?

Was she better? Experienced?

Was I so unimportant that you didn't even wait for twenty four hours after we had a falling out?

Did I mean that little?

Was I so easy to forget?"

Grayson could see it in her eyes, the same look he imagined on her face when she saw him with that cheerleader, a girl that was just a way to numb his pain. He didn't know any better then, but had he known there was still hope for something with Y/N, that would never even cross his mind.

And she had that pain, that horrified, unmistakable ache screaming at him and she wasn't even speaking.

"It isn't what you think, I promise you." And he reached for her hand only to have her retract it fast, too fast for his liking. Moments ago she was kissing him like her life depended on it and now she couldn't stomach the thought of his touch.

"Then tell me what it is because all I see is a very gorgeous, very pregnant woman calling me your whore." The disgust laced in every word she spat at him like poison had caught his heart in a web he had to untangle or he'd surely die.

"This is Lacy and she is my publicist. Not my girl and not my baby!" Grayson exclaims, looking over his shoulder for his publicist who chuckled awkwardly.

"So she isn't a crazy fan-girl forcing a kiss on you?" Lacy's uncertainty had caused her to take a step back, looking at Y/N again before the poster above her head caught her attention.

"Are you...are you THE Y/N Y/L/N? The author of frENEMIES because I'm obsessed with that book!"

Folding her arms across her chest, Y/N's eyes fall to the ground as she tries to center herself. Grayson's looming presence casts a shadow over her and she's doing her best to remember Grayson isn't the same person he once was and neither is she. She's trying to give him the benefit of the doubt and accept his explanation because she quite honestly felt like it was a flashback from college, like some sort of a twisted form of heartbreak PTSD.

"Wait...is...Is Grayson the mysterious quarterback?!" Lacy's excited, high pitched squeals breaks Y/N's focus and she finds her eyes taped to his warm, worried gaze.

Fear is evident in his eyes as if he can already see her leave without talking things through like she used to do.

Granted, when he gave her a concussion in the past by 'accidentally' tackling her during that one semester she thought it would be fun to take PE in college, she didn't really want to listen to his excuses at all. Though he did take her to the hospital even when she insisted she was fine, Grayson knew she wasn't because she kept calling him Raisin. He stayed with her that day. And that night. She wasn't capable of admitting it back then, but she quite liked knowing he was right beside her bed. It felt safer somehow, which is quite ridiculous considering she always ended being anything but around him.

But then again, she also remembers the time he asked her to dance when she showed up to a campus sanctioned event. She told herself she'd be perfectly fine with sitting in the corner all alone without anyone to dance with, that she could handle seeing everyone having a partner or at least a friend, but she wasn't.

Somehow, he knew that and surprisingly enough, she agreed to dance with him and what was even more shocking is that the only slow song of the night played right at the time she took his hand. She'd later find out he paid the DJ to play a slow song "The night we met" and at the time, she didn't really understand why.

They argued half the time because he said she's too short and his neck and back would hurt from hunching to talk to her and she called his hips stiff and dancing weird, but then again, he called her pretty too and she laid her head on his chest.

There were so many times when he was both her worst nightmare and sweetest dream and unfortunately for her, that didn't seem to have changed now either.

"You're quiet. It scares me when you're quiet." Grayson licks his lips, blinking a few times before glancing at his shoes once. He always did that when he was nervous.

Swallowing thickly, she sighed before nodding. "I just needed a moment. Lacy made quite an entrance." Glancing at the woman who really, really wanted to know if Grayson was the quarterback from the book. Lacy could already see the press release, the public would love them.

"Sorry. I get protective over him. He's had a fair share of stalkers." She said it so casually as if it was no big deal and yet it made Y/N frown deeply, enough to warrant Grayson's hand on her shoulder.

"No, yeah. I get it." Smiling awkwardly, Y/N glances at Grayson when he rests his hand upon her shoulder, his touch warm as ever and soothing for her soul.

"This story will break the internet." Lacy begins her excited chatter, but one look at Grayson and she finally understood - they don't want this to be public knowledge and she is imposing on their time together. Y/N especially didn't want his name to overshadow the content of the book that had changed her life and inspired a career as a writer.

"I'll go and organize your weekend. It was lovely to meet you. And uh...have fun...protected fun." Winking at them, she finally left the two alone and it made it that much easier to breathe again. At least for Y/N.

"Thanks for not storming off when she showed up." Grayson stood in front of her, his other hand bravely cupping her face and while he wanted to pick up where they left off, Y/N looked like she could cry.

"I didn't storm off because I could hardly feel my legs, Grayson. This could have easily been true. Every time I get anywhere near you, ten girls pop up from nowhere and I can't compete with that." Pulling his hands away, she finally stands properly, no longer leaning on the desk that saved her from falling on her ass more than once that day.

"I won't compete with that." If seeing him once had shaken her so badly, she was scared of what would happen if she kept seeing him.

Would her past issues resurface? He already made her feel like an insecure college girl who hated herself because she never felt good enough for him, or any other guy. She hated feeling weak, disposable and she felt just that.

"THERE. IS. NO. COMPETITION." Running a hand through his hair, he shakes his head. "Can't you see that? There was never any competition. Three years passed and I supposedly got all I wanted and nothing mattered because I'd still lay awake at night and wonder where you are and who you're with. I've stopped using girls for one night stands because nothing could erase the emptiness in my chest...the same emptiness that disappeared when I walked into this book shop." And yet he found himself weak, vulnerable, fragile even. Unlike Y/N, he liked that because he had someone he could say he loves enough to offer that part of his damaged soul.

"Actions not words, Grayson. It's...It's an amazing feeling to hear you say all that, especially when I've waited so long to hear it, but I no longer give value to words, only actions. And you'll be here for a few days and then what? What is the point of all this if you're just gonna leave on Sunday? Gonna finally be able to say you took my V card? Because that won't be happening. And this isn't me being bitter or presumptuous, I'd actually like to spend more time with you, but you will leave eventually and I want to draw the line."

Grayson loved how bossy she is, how determined not to fall for his charms. It made him smile despite her murderous glare. It made him smile because he knew things she didn't.

"Wait. Hold up. I'm fine with that, but V card? You really haven't? Still?"

"Gonna mock me about that? I'm not like you Grayson. I look for a real connection, feelings. No one came close to that. Besides...I'm only twenty five." She lifts up her chin proudly, but he caught that little quiver of her bottom lip that came before that. And he was happy. He was happy she did wait and not because he had some fantasy about being her first, but because he wanted her to have someone who loves her when she's ready.

Secretly, he did hope it would be him.

"No, sneaky little princess. I won't mock you. But then again, I do wonder if you can really keep that line intact." Licking his lips his smirk quickly appears and she can hardly keep a smile at bay. Her lips twitch, giving him an inkling of her inner struggle, making him braver, leaning in once again.

But she wasn't ready to kiss him again. Feeling his lips messes with her mind enough to make her rational decision making skills disappear and she couldn't afford that again.

"Look, I'll grab a jacket and we can go somewhere more private and talk. Okay?" Biting her lower lip, she raised her eyebrows in expectation, watching his smile with the slightest disbelief upon his lips and she nearly gasps when he kisses the top of her nose so quickly she hardly had a moment to react.

Stepping away, he gives her room to do as she suggested, thinking it would be better if they're in private because things he has on his mind are more acceptable where no one could see them. He didn't care if anyone heard them.

Letting out a frustrated huff, he thought how he's been asking for a God given sign on what to do next in his life and he finally found his answer - whatever entailed having her in his life was the right path for him to take.

A vibration makes him look down at the desk she was leaned against, noticing her phone as it lit up with a photo...a photo of a man. A man he could recognize.

"I'm ready." She smiled, about to pick up her phone but even she knew it would be impossible to hide the truth from Grayson now that he'd seen the photo.

"Wh-why is Mike calling you?" His voice broke and Y/N could tell it would be an argument before it even started.

"Because...we are...sort of dating."

Tags: @livexdolan​​​ @dreadingdaisies​​​ @strangerliaa​​​ @mendesficsxbombay​​​ @beinscorpio​​​ @peacedolantwins​​​ @dolandolll​​​ @idekxdolan​

PART 11

[sandalaris]

SethKate for the 10 sentence meme?

one sentence per genre for a pairing

How can anyone do any of these with just one sentence?! At least I tried.... there’s a lot of run on sentences in this, btw, although after a few I just decided the one sentence rule could shove it and went with keeping each one short, and at least one I said screw it and made it pretty long for a one-sentence story.

1. Angst

A shadow self, that’s what Amaru called them, the ones she twisted and turned and brought forth from the other side, and logically Kate knows he had no choice, knows he did what he had to do to save Richie and her and the world, but logic has no hold in the face of screaming gaping wound in her chest that pulses and weeps grief and guilt when she looks at Seth’s face. It’s a cruel and ugly twist of fate, to still love the man who killed her brother.

A/N: A mild AU I will never write (but have thought about what would happen before) in which Amaru did her shadow-self thing on Scott and Seth is forced to kill him.

2. AU

There’s nothing wrong with the school itself, she decides, even if she does find some of its rules and traditions a bit odd. She wouldn’t even need to be here except Our Lady of Sorrow holds the only duel credit program with both an opening in Statistics and Intro to Psych that was willing to let Kate in given her... unusual circumstances (being homeschooled, a devout Baptist, and technically enrolled at a local public high school - a PE credit apparently requires a bit more than her daddy and the internet can provide - had her sure that even applying was a lost cause). She only has to spend half a day on campus and only one of her classes is even near the annex building so she hardly sees Seth (she refuses to call him “Mr. Gecko” on principle. She’s only somewhat a student here, and he is certainly not her teacher, even if he is a teacher.. she thinks).

She’s counting the weeks until the semester ends.

A/N: I would love to read this as a full fic... just not sure I want to write it, lol. 

3. Crack

No. Nuh-uh. No way. Seth is not some pansy assed prince charming setting out on a quest or one of those glory seeking wannabe knights who graduate from the Fairytale Training Academy, and he’s certainly never wanted to be anyone’s goddamn hero, so little miss damsel in distress, who’s probably some secret lost princess because Seth’s read this tale before and he hated it the first time around, can save her sob story for some other guy because he is absolutely not-

“Please.”

...fuck.

A/N: A reluctant Seth who is entirely too aware of fairy tale tropes and trying everything he can not to be in a one? Way more amusing than it should be to me.

4. Future fic

Seth eyes the group of sparkly wrapped boxes sitting on the counter with distrust, part of him already counting their numbers and trying to figure out how many have his name on them. After last year, when Seth managed to sneak a peek at every single last gift and “ruined the surprise,” Kate had managed to hide every Christmas present so well he’d begun to wonder if she’d decided he didn’t get any this year.

He reaches for a small, shiny box, the tag just peeking out from the curly bow and revealing a “th” in a familiar loopy penmanship, when Kate suddenly hisses behind him.

“Don’t even think about it.”

A/N: “Future” makes me think domestic fic (at least in FDtD), and that’s not an area I’m real familiar with, so *waves hand* this is what you get. :P

5. First Time

Her hands are shaking. Not visibly, but enough to make her fingers feel weak and the gun in her grip far too dangerous.

“You ready?”

She doesn’t know if she’s imagining the doubt in Seth’s voice, regret bleeding through at agreeing for her to play a bigger role, but she nods firmly anyways, tightening her grip and stepping forward.

A/N: Kate’s first heist... although I doubt Seth let her use a gun the first time. Too dangerous in the hands of an amateur. And I’m pretty sure Seth kept Kate’s role as danger-free and background as he could, because she was still fighting so hard to be considered an equal partner at the beginning of S2.

6. Fluff

She’s just managed to settle into the perfect spot when the bed shifts slightly behind her and a familiar hand fumbles sleepily at her arm and over her stomach before finding the hollow dip of her waist. Kate lets out a half-hearted protest, bits of warmth escaping at the blanket slips down and the sheet bunching beneath her as Seth wastes no time tugging her across the mattress, the sound dying into a soft laugh as he tucks her half under him and grumbles wordlessly against her temple without even opening his eyes. She shifts, tugging the corner of the pillow down a bit so its not digging into her neck before letting out a happy sigh. Perfect.

7. Humor (I had a hard time with this one, so I just wrote something random)

Kate makes a noise of frustration, pushing herself from her chair and snapping, “I’m gonna die a virgin. Again!”

“You know,” Richie says with far too much brotherly glee, “if you’re looking for someone to-”

“Shut up, Richard!”

8. Hurt/Comfort (another one where I didn’t exactly want to go full hurt/comfort, so instead I went Hurt? As in injury? Yeah, lets go with that.)

“Ohgodohgodohgod.” She can’t seem to stop the litany of words, repeated phrase cycling through her mind as she presses harder. There’s blood, so much blood, seeping red and too thick through her fingers that she can’t even feel the pain.

She should feel it, she thinks, she did before. Or maybe its better that she can’t, she doesn’t want a repeat of the well.

She takes another step, seeing the door just a few steps away. There are people beyond it, Seth and Richie’s people (Seth’s going to be so pissed, she thinks with a kind of worrying detachment.) It’s a simple goal: get to the door. Everything will be alright if she can just get to the door.

A/N: Kate is totally OK in this. It’s bad, but not as bad as she thinks, and while she doesn’t make it to the door before collapsing, someone comes through really quickly and sees her.

9. Smut  Hand holding?

The leather is soft against his skin, well worn from years of near continuous use and Kate’s dedicated care. He remembers when she first got them, the fancy looking box with its folded tissue paper holding them inside like they were a gift. He had hated them, hated the way they covered Kate’s small, deadly hands, the way Dad expected for her to be grateful, how necessary they were.

He slides his hand up, pad of his thumb brushing over the expensive leather covering her palm before it presses against the soft, vulnerable skin of her inner wrist, and he swears for a moment her can feel the nervous flutter of her pulse before he curls his fingers to lock around her wrist.

She looks at him, an amused quirk of to the edge of her lips as he raises her hand between them and he meets her gaze, not bothering to measure the redness of her eyes as he reaches his free hand up to pinch the fabric just above her pinkie.

“What’re yo-” She cuts off with a choked gasp when he tugs, but doesn’t jerk back. He’s inexplicably proud of her for it.

Her eyes are wide and a little panicked, bottom lip trapped between her teeth as she watches him tug at the top of each finger, loosening the well-fitting glove until it sits loose on her small hand.

He takes in a shaky breath, feeling unaccountably nervous as he grips the empty tip of the glove’s middle finger, like he’s removing far more than just a simple bit of leather. But then again, maybe he is. After all, Kate’s almost never lets any of them see her without her gloves, not willingly.

He pauses at the thought, gaze flicking away from his task to look at Kate. He regrets it almost immediately. He wasn’t going to stop once he started, wasn’t going to give Kate cause to think he held any of the fear she’s convinced he must feel. But maybe she sees the question in his eyes, or feel it in the sure way he holds her wrist because she nods, small and hesitant but there. He pulls the glove the rest of the way off and lets it fall to the floor.

He lets out a breath just as Kate seems to suck one in, her gaze locked on her bare fingers and Seth loosens his grip, fingers already turning so he can run the flat of his palm up her wrist, forearm pressing against forearm as his hand aligns with hers.

He’s grinning, sudden and full of too much smug satisfaction if Kate’s affectionate eye roll is anything to go by, but Seth doesn’t care, already lacing their fingers together so he can hold her hand proper for once.

A/N: This is part of a tUA inspired AU that has no plot and therefore will never be written. But I know exactly what Kate and Seth’s abilities are, which is part of why this is such a thing for Kate here and why Seth feels her fears are unfounded.

10. UST (Unresolved Sexual Tension)

She doesn’t blink, barely seems to be breathing, holding herself so carefully behind her desk, straight backed and fingers laced together as she stares stubbornly up at him. He smiles, slow and measured and knowing, letting his gaze sweep over the cardigan she’s begun buttoning all the way up since he joined her little class, before leaning close, meeting her gaze and dropping his voice low, like a secret between them.

“And what do I get if I get it right?”

A/N: Seth goes back to school to get his GED, Ms. Fuller is not what he was expecting. I actually had a whole scene playing through my head for this, because I like build up, and it was really hard to pick just a small part to put here.

None of these are edited, despite how long it took to post, meaning I have mixed feelings on them, lol. I think I like more of them than I expected to, so yay!

[what-if-i-imagine]

Random story I’m going to try to write

I call it: No Capes Outlaws as Actual High School Teahers AU (with a side of Jayroy).

Roy

Roy is the AP/Honors (depending on where you’re from in the country) engeninering, mechanics and physics (1&2) teacher. His scedule every day would go: Prep Hour, Physics 1, Physics 2, PreAP/Introduction to Physics, Mechanics (first block), Mechanics (second block), Lunch, Enenering.

He is the supervisor of the science club on Mondays and Fridays, and engerninering work shop on Tuesday.

The reason he requested his Prep Hour to be in the morning is that he needs to make sure Lian gets to her daycare all right and on time.

Students love him because he is goofy and makes them smile during classes, but also very obviously cares about them. He is open about his past with substance abuse and his recovery story, as well as growing up on a reservation until he was a teenager. He gets them and how hard it is growing up in our modern world, and that means so much to them.

Kori

A warm hearted but fierce woman who came from a foreign country to teach her country’s language, culture and history to young American high school students.

She’s not familiar with lingo and many American customs, and immensely enjoys getting to learn from her students as they learn from her.

Stands strong in fighting for what you believe in and for seeing the goodness in people around you. That doesn’t mean stand by as people treat you unfairly and only reapond with kindness, it means to know how to love and respect yourself first and know how to pick your battles.

Sometimes manages to convince the principal to let her bring in her exotic pet from her home country to spend time with the class.

Acting counselor for any and all foreign exchange students.

She takes her Prep Hour during fourth period.

Artemis

The cool Egyptian PE teacher who everyone honestly love.

The students are very shocked when they realize that their awesome Coach is distantly related to Coach Diana from middle school. It gives them whiplash at first, but then they look closer and immediately start to see the similarities.

Unknowingly (but also slightly knowingly) became these young high school girls’ idea of what a strong woman looks like not only physically but mentally. She loves giving the girls advice and counciling and pretending she doesn’t notice just how much they love her.

You name the sport, she coaches or co-coaches it.

Instead of taking a Prep Hour, she fills in for a class period upstairs in the sports med class.

Bizzaro

A teacher’s aid who is on the autism spectrum.

Usually jumps between Artemis and Jason’s classes, but sometimes he likes to just hangout alone in the PAC alone to get some of his studies done (and secretly watch the dance classes when they practice on stage, he just finds them really pretty).

He looks intimidating at first sight, but the students are very quick to warm up to him.

Carries Pup Pup with him at all times. Sometimes Jason or Roy will spray it with their cologne or Kory or Artemis with their perfume. They know how happy the familiar smells make him, and any time they notice the most resent spray has worn off, the one who notices will spray it again (which means Pup Pup usually smells like Jason, but Biz doesn’t mind).

He graduated high school at a very young age due to his intellect. On his last day of school, while his much older peers were on their last day of first semester, he went to Jason. All he had to say was that he was scared to go home. Jason very quickly had CPS on Lex, and gained legal custody of Biz by the end of winter break.

Jason (I save the most fleshed out for last)

Did a double major and a minor while in university (his family still don’t know how he did it), majoring in English Literature and Psychology with a minor in theater. He acted as a “long term sub” (a title the had to legally give him for the time being) as an AP/Honors Lit teacher at the school while he finished up with his teaching degree.

After two years of teaching AP Lit and AP English, he decided it was to mentally taxing on him to see how miserable his students were and decided to leave those classes in better hands. He now teaches Creative Writing 1&2 and all of the drama classes. His daily schedule is: Creative Writing 1&2 (they have to share a class period to have enough students to make the bar for minimum class population) Drama 1, Drama 2, Stage Craft, Lunch, Prep Hour, Screen play/script writing, improv.

He had his Prep Hour during the second lunch block so that students from both lunches have access to his classroom. They can get tutoring help, emotional support, or just a safe and quiet place to eat their lunch in.

Basically runs the entire theater department alone. He manages to pick the plays/musicals every year, get the script orders in place, order the costumes and props, get the supplies for making the backdrops and still somehow has enough money from the school budget left over to throw the cast good parties. The students call it budgeting magic.

Over his years of teaching, he’s been gradually collecting more and more literature and psychology degrees from online universities (his schooling is all he spends his trust fund on. His father finds it baffling that he would rather collect degrees he may never use instead of getting a home better than his crappy apartment he lives in off his paychecks from the school or an actual car)

All of the students who have never had him as a teacher think he’s cool because he rides a motorcycle and wears leather jackets. His drama and writing students know better. They know he’s a total dork.

The teacher the kids know they can go to with home life issues. Through the grapevine, the student know he was abused early in his childhood and was homeless for a while before being taken in by Bruce Wayne. They know they can trust him with anything, because he understands better that anyone what it’s like to be in their place.

The Students!

The generation outlaws, Vessel, Sasha, Tim and his Young Justice team, Damian, Jon, Rachel, Gar, a few other assorted kids.

They all realized Mr. Harper and Mr. Todd had a crush on each other before they did.

They ship it, a lot, and try a lot of crazy schemes to get them together that always fail. The schemes only get more elaborate as they go.

“Can Coach Artemis adopt me?”

“Hey Mr. Harper, adopt me?”

“Ms. Anders can I adopt you as a mom?”

“How long do you think it will take Mr. Todd to adopt him?” “Dude, Damian is his brother.” “That doesn’t change a thing.”

They trust their teachers with their lives and would protect their teachers with their lives.

That’s all I got for now, I might add more later.

[onefourjisung]

Newfound Friendship (Stray Kids Han)

Prompt: (y/n) is a kid who doesn’t usually care about things that doesn’t affect themself, but when a foreign exchange student, Han Jisung, was struggling to fit in, they can’t help but step in. Even going out of their way to make sure no one messed with the fluffy cheeked boy. (gender neutral reader, highschool au)

Warnings: bullying, racism, a small school fight, strong language

Word count: 1,551

“Everybody, I want you to welcome our new exchange student, Han Jisung.” Your homeroom teacher walked in, a blond boy tailing behind her. “Go on, introduce yourself,”

“Hi, uh- my name is Jisung, from Korea.” The new kid awkwardly waved, his bottom lip unintentionally sticking between his teeth by the end of the sentence.

Your teacher patted his back gently before smiling at Jisung, “Go on have a seat,”

He nodded before walking nervously down the rows of desks searching for an open spot. Just to your luck, the first one he noticed was the seat next to yours. You didn’t have anything against the new kid in particular, you’re just not very good at making friends. Your slightly individualistic demeanor and resting bitch face (along with your dark aesthetic and your undying love for leather jackets) have always been successful in sending people away and earning you the title of “the bad kid not to messed with” -and you never bothered to deny it.  

When Jisung wordlessly pointed at the empty chair beside you, your brain didn’t even have enough time to come up with a proper response before he grinned, putting his bag on the desk. You internally sighed, saying goodbye to the peaceful semester you had imagined.  

“Hi,” Jisung whispered, leaning slightly to you while keeping his eyes on the board. “I’m Han Jisung.”

“(y/n),” you answered shortly as you continued to make no effort to actually pay attention to your teacher.

“My English name is Peter,” he casually said with a smile.

You finally turned your head to the boy, eyeing him up and down. Once again, your resting bitch face must’ve sent the wrong signal as Jisung’s smile faltered to a somewhat scared look that reminded you of a squirrel due to his chubby cheeks.

Not wanting to give off a bad impression to the already nervous boy, you mustered up a small smile. “You look more of a Jisung to me,”

After your lighthearted reply, he seemed to regain his positivity and lowly chuckled making sure you weren’t getting any unwanted attention from the teacher. He then became quiet for a while before saying “Will you help me?”

You raised your eyebrow slightly at the sudden proposal, “help you with what?”

You noticed him fidgeting with the pen in his hand before looking up to you. “Uh- my English is not very good? Will you help me?”

You once again smiled softly, “I think you’re doing just fine, but sure I’ll help you.”

Jisung couldn’t help but grin at the confident boost from you and he sighed in relief as he already gained his first friend within a few minutes.

Turns out, Jisung ended up being in most of your classes trough out the day, this led to Jisung always sitting next to you. You thought the stares people were giving the two of you was because the notorious (y/n) who had always sat alone and don’t give a damn about it finally has a chair mate slash friend. However, when you find a sad Jisung on the other side of the door as you exited your chemistry class –the only class you didn’t have with him- you were unfortunately proven wrong.

"Jisung?” you touched his shoulder in worry. “Are you okay?”

He raised his head at your presence, the usual cheerful glint in his eyes was nowhere to be seen. Instead, his eyes were tinted red and slightly puffed as if he had been crying.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” You questioned your friend further, ignoring the stares of your pupils passing by on their way to the cafetaria.

“They’re mean,” Jisung pouted, his eyes getting slightly teary.  

“Who is?”

“Kids in biology class.” Jisung sighed, blinking faster to stop his tears from falling. “They teased my English.”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach at Jisung’s confession but managed to keep your composure. “Look at me,” you grabbed Jisung’s hand gently before smiling at him. “I’m here now, let’s go grab some lunch, yeah?”

Jisung only nodded as he let you guide him through the hallways, your hand still securely wrapped around his.

You sat on your usual table as the both of you ate your food. Jisung’s mood was getting better thanks to the distraction the horrible food provided.  

“Do you eat this everyday?” Jisung cringed as he continuously poked on the undercooked green beans on his plate.

“Well, not exactly this menu everyday,” you smiled in amusement, “but the other menus are not any better, honestly.”

“Ew, gross.” You heard Jisung murmur under his breath, causing you to laugh.

“Well, you gotta deal with it now that you’re here, Jiji,” you teased.

“Jiji?” Jisung pointed out your nickname for him.

“Yeah, why not,” you shrugged. “Can it be your nickname? Do you like it?”

Jisung contemplated for a bit before responding. “But jiji in Korean means gross,”

“Great, just like this food and just like you.” You joked.

“Hey, not true!” Jisung retorted playfully.

“I’m gonna start calling you Jiji from now on.” You stated and when he didn’t argue, you accepted it as a permission.

It was quiet between the both of you for a bit before a boy passed by your table, throwing some rude remarks and a degrading laugh, you recognized the kid as Ashton from your PE class. You were taken aback and couldn’t help but feel offended and stared at the brown haired kid as he left the cafetaria. When you turned back to your original position, Jisung was slightly hunched as if trying to make himself smaller, keeping his eyes to the untouched food in front of him.

“Jisung,” you called to gain his attention. “Was that the kid that’s been bothering you?”

His silence was more than enough to clarify your theories. You eventually got up from your seat with Jisung staring at you questioningly.  

“I’m going to the bathroom, you stay here, okay?” You told him.  

Ashton fell back with hands on his cheek, obviously not expecting you to actually throw a punch. "What the fuck?!”

You obviously were not going to the bathroom. You were going to find Ashton and have a little word with him. You were really not planning on picking up a fight. Ashton was a well-known dick with nothing but a big mouth, he was not a fighter and you knew it from that one time last semester when you kicked his ass during a Taekwondo lesson. But when Ashton exaggeratedly mocked Jisung’s accent in front of you after you brought up the problem, you just couldn’t hold yourself back. Before you knew it, your knuckle had made contact with his cheek in full force.

By then, people were starting to crowd around the two of you, it was only a matter of time until a teacher will come and break you two up.

“Next time you even try to look at Jisung the wrong way, I’ll be giving you much more than a bruised up cheek.” You pointed your finger at him threateningly to make sure you got your point across.

“Okay! Fuck, I’m sorry!” He finally responded.  

Ashton, still taken aback by your outburst only stared at you in disbelief, knowing better not to fight back. To this, you reached out to apply more pressure on his hand that was still on his cheek, making him groan in pain as he flinched away from your touch.

Just then, one of your teachers finally got to the scene, breaking through the crowd of student surrounding you.  

“(y/n) (y/l/n)! Ashton Carter! Principal’s office, now!” He shouted sternly.

You obeyed his words and wordlessly left as the teacher shoo off the crowd. In the corner of your eyes you see Jisung’s worried face, you spared a glance at him as you smile reassuringly, silently telling him not to worry.

The hour you spent in the principal’s office was not too bad. Considering Ashton's reputation, the principal didn’t need to be told twice to believe your words. Still, he didn’t agree with your way of dealing with the issue so he sent you to detention while Ashton was suspended for three days.

You were mindlessly doodling on a page in your notebook when the door of the detention room opened. The teacher on duty really couldn’t care less as he continued to scroll on his phone without acknowledging the new presence. You tilted your head in confusion as Jisung made his way towards you after spotting you in the back of the room.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as he took a seat beside you.

He rummaged through his backpack before pulling out a chocolate bar and a boxed milk. “I’m lonely,” he shrugged.

“What’s this?” you eyed the treats he offered to you.

“I bought them at the store.” He smiled. “You didn’t eat because you were fighting,”

“Right.” You chuckled at his words before accepting the food. “Thanks, Jiji.”

“No, thank you.” He replied. “But you don’t have to punch people for me next time.”

Once again you laughed quietly. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”

A few minutes ago you kind of hated the fact that you got detention, but with Jisung by your side, the one hour actually was unfairly short for your liking.

[justjessame]

Put Me In Coach 2

“He’s watching you,” Mary whispered, as I looked at her in confusion. “Coach Negan has been eye fucking you ever since he walked into the cafeteria.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re fucking insane.” I let my eyes fall back to the book in my hand. “He’s not looking at me, and if he is, then it’s probably because the random thought of ‘oh shit, have I done inventory lately’ popped into his head.” Eric snickered from beside me. I took a drink from my bottle of water and pretended I was reading. He was staring at me. I could feel it across the crowded room. I just couldn’t acknowledge it. Even though I’m eighteen and technically an adult, he’s still a fucking teacher. And married. A flash of guilt gnawed in my stomach. I couldn’t think of her, his wife.

“If this is insanity, than fuck if I don’t want a dose of what you’re having.” Eric muttered, and then I felt him. Behind me, the musky scent of him, his heat. Fuck.

“Miss Kendall.” That fucking voice of his. It didn’t help that I knew exactly how deep it could get, and just how hot he could sound moaning my name. I licked my lips and felt his hand touch my shoulder.

“Yeah, Coach.” I was happy to hear my voice both steady and not breathless. I looked up at him over my shoulder and smiled. “Is there a problem?”

His eyes were dark. A darkness I was learning very well. “Not a problem, Miss Kendall, a reminder.” I swallowed as he pulled his hand back. “You promised to give me a hand,” I heard Eric snicker again and closed my eyes. “With grading.” I nodded and bit my lip.

“Of course,” I took a deep breath. “I have a free period after lunch.” It was the second semester and I didn’t have his class anymore. The free period was actually an independent study that I was doing, but what’s the point of it if I couldn’t be independent?

Negan smiled down at me. “See you then.” He nodded a parting to my now silent best friends and walked away. I turned back to my book.

“Tell me he’s bent you over his desk and spanked you until you couldn’t sit down comfortably.” Eric practically moaned. “Please throw me that one fucking bone, bitch.”

I shook my head and ignored him. “Come on, Eric,” Mary said, her eye roll evident in her tone. “We’re talking about PERFECT Amara Kendall here. What would Coach Negan have to spank her over?”

“Mary, Mary, Mary,” Eric sounded completely bored with that line. “Remember that Amara fucking Kendall had to retake PE because of her fucking mouth. Wait, has he fucked your mouth?” Damn it. The insatiable curiosity of these two assholes would kill me.

I shook my head and continued to ignore them. “She’s not talking, Eric. Quiet as a fucking tomb.” Mary sounded so put out that I nearly giggled. Nearly. “Unlike us, her BEST FRIENDS, she doesn’t share. Shouldn’t surprise us, I guess, she never shared in kindergarten either.”

That did it. I laughed. “You are such thirsty fucking whores.” I shook my head and sat down my book. “Kindergarten? Really?” I rolled my eyes. “You’re never gonna forgive me for that fucking Barbie doll are you?”

 “It was Ken, bitch, and you wouldn’t share him so I could reenact all my debased ideas.” She was glaring at me and Eric as we laughed. “I had such creativity and it was STARVED because you wouldn’t share.”

 “I saved you from being forced into therapy, you twisted asshole.” I was shaking with laughter. “Seriously, what five year old acts out that kind of shit in kindergarten?”

“A creative one,” Eric snickered. “Creative and had too much access to Skinamax.”

We were all laughing now. Fuck, I loved the two idiots. But I couldn’t share what Negan and I were doing. They knew something happened, but he was STILL a fucking teacher. And I wasn’t going to lose him his job. “You know I want to share, but-” I sighed. “The less you know, the less you could be asked.”

“Do you honestly think that anyone would question us?” Eric scoffed. “You’re an adult, Amara. No one cares.”

“Well, the board might,” Mary shrugged. “What?” Eric had shot her a look. “It’s true. She has a point. He’s a teacher, not HER teacher, but he’s still a teacher.” She took my hand. “Sorry, we’ve been pushing for info, Amara. I think I get it now.” I squeezed her hand. “Doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop giving you shit, but I won’t ask for details.” I rolled my eyes.

“Fine, yeah, me too.” Eric begrudgingly agreed. “But the SECOND we get our fucking diplomas, I want GRAPHIC fucking details. Videos if you have them.”

 I walked to the gym after lunch and grinned as I watched Negan bark out orders to the class. “I’m leaving you all to your own devices, but I swear to Christ if I hear a Lord of the Flies situation going down, I will shut that shit down immediately. Understood?” A round of agreement and he motioned for them to grab the equipment of their choosing.

“Miss Kendall.” He greeted me as I made my way through his students. “Let’s go into my office and we’ll get started with that stack of papers to grade.” The door had barely shut behind him when I turned and met his arms and mouth. Groaning into one another’s searching hands and ravenous mouths, I felt his hands sliding down my back to pull up my skirt over my hips. His fingers met lace and his teeth nipped at my lip. And then the panties met the same fate that each and every pair before them had, luckily I found a place to buy in bulk.

My hands were tugging down the elastic of his shorts, and then as though Eric had wished it, I was bent over the desk. But instead of a spanking, I was getting something better. He slid inside of me fully and then his hand was wrapped around my throat and pulling me back into his chest. Fuck. As we moved together, my head turning to search for his mouth and him anticipating my want and meeting me, I felt that build. The one that had become as natural as breathing to me. The climb toward an orgasm with Negan pounding into me with an expertise that only he had.

Roaring through both of us, I fell forward on the desk with a quiet chuckle as he followed me, his body over top of my own, always so hesitant to pull away. Pull out before he had to, he was completely against that. He wanted to feel me, for as long as we could stay joined, and I loved it. His weight against me, front or back, the feeling of him slowly leaving me. Hell even the mess that he left behind, until both of us could stand and our breaths weren’t pants any longer. Then he’d wipe me clean, kissing my knees or my thigh and smile up at me.

“I’m getting used to this, Amara.” He said, once I was clean and my skirt was down, panties replaced with a spare pair I kept in my bag. “You, this.” He had replaced his own clothes and was sitting in his desk chair. “Fuck if I’m not gonna miss you next year.”

I sighed, and sat on his lap. Letting my head find the crook of his shoulder, I played with the buttons on his polo shirt. “I’m not going far, Negan.” I offered, we’d been having this conversation a lot lately. “Besides,” I swallowed, not wanting to remind him or me of HER. “Maybe it’s for the best.” I offered instead. “I leave, your life gets back to normal.”

He chuckled into my hair. “Normal?” I felt him inhale deeply. “What the fuck is Normal, princess?” I didn’t actually think he was asking me, so I didn’t answer. “Still gonna fucking miss you.”

 I smiled, and tilted my head up so I could look into his face. “I’ll miss you too, Coach.” I winked and he grinned. “Now, are there actual tests to grade, or was this an elaborate farce to get me alone and at your mercy?”

He laughed and opened a drawer filled with paper. “There’s always shit to grade, Amara, you know that.” And then he let me up, and left the office so I could grade his papers while he went back to teaching. I wondered, pulling a red pen out of his drawer, would he really miss me? Or was I just the latest in a long line of students that he’d done this with before?

 “Amara!” I heard a loud male voice yell as I was leaving the school at the end of the day. Looking around I found the source. Joe Malberry. Captain of the wrestling team. I’d gone out on two dates with Joe, he’d asked me to Homecoming and I turned him down. I waited until he caught up with me, wondering what he could possibly want now.

“Hey, Joe.” I smiled up at him. He was broad. In his shoulders and everywhere else. Trust me, I knew. “What’s up?”

He was smiling down at me. His huge body blocked the sun effectively. ‘Hey, Amara, I was wondering, do you have a date yet for the Spring formal?” Ugh, this again. But I stopped myself from a fast no. Why shouldn’t I go to at least a few dances my final year?

“When is it again?” I hadn’t paid any attention to the notices.

“Two weeks from Friday.” He offered, his smile deepening at my interest.

“Sure.” I answered, nodding. “Why not?”

He hugged me and twirled me around making me laugh. “Fucking awesome.” He set me back on my feet and grinned. “Just tell me the color of your dress and I’ll pick out your corsage and make sure we don’t clash.” Shit, he was excited.

“Absolutely, Joe.” I smiled and walked away after promising him to give him details he needed and plans to call him to hash out the plans. I was almost in my car when I felt it. Someone’s eyes on me, and looking up I saw Negan staring a hole into me from outside the gym. Shit.

 Maybe I wasn’t such an adult. If I was, then I probably would have gone over to Negan and discussed what he must have witnessed between Joe and me. I would have just admitted that going to the dance sounded mildly fun. That Joe was a good guy and maybe, if I was feeling particularly brave, I’d admit that Joe and I had, once upon a time, screwed like rabbits.

Or, I could drive the fuck home and pretend he hadn’t seen or had that look on his face. I could force down dinner. I could fake my way through homework. I could take a LONG hot bath and then open up my laptop to look at formal dresses to get an idea of what I wanted to wear. And hairstyles. And shoes. Anything other than looking at my cell phone that had been dinging text message alerts since I drove away.

I knew it was him. It had to be. We’d promised the cell phone was an emergency only thing, but how many times had we broken that rule? And to Negan, this might actually constitute an emergency. Maybe. But I wasn’t nearly ready to look and see what he might be saying or texting. Not yet. I was a coward.

I was printing off a few hairstyle ideas when my phone rang. OK that wasn’t him. He NEVER called. He couldn’t. Not from home. Not where she was.

I tapped the answer button without looking down. “Hello?” I was still clicking through websites and came up short when I heard his voice. Shit.

“Miss Kendall?” Fuck. “I think we’re gonna have to discuss your performance today, privately.”

Fuck, shit, fuck. “Coach, I can explain.” I tried, but he stopped me from continuing.

“Which may have worked if you came to me today, Miss Kendall.” And hadn’t ignored my texts, I heard the unspoken irritation. “I expect you in my office first thing in the morning. Be prepared for-” I waited, swallowing hard. “Just be prepared, Miss Kendall.”

Damn it. He hung up before I could say another word. Which forced me to look at his texts.

Amara, what the fuck?

Young lady, answer me.

Amara, you need to explain what I fucking witnessed earlier.

Damn it, answer me, Amara.

If I don’t get an answer in the next ten fucking minutes, you’re gonna wish you had.

That was the last one. Shit. I should have fucking answered. I should have BRBd him or TTYLd. Something, anything, cause I had a fucking feeling that Eric would be getting a very clear graphic of his fantasy when I couldn’t sit down all day tomorrow.

 I had trouble sleeping. I had trouble waking up. I had a shit ton of trouble getting out of bed and facing the day ahead. I was screwed. And not in any of the most enjoyable ways. I bit my lip and considered how to divert him from the very clear aggravation that he was feeling. First, armor.

I got up, reluctantly, but determined. Pulling a pair of the tightest jeans I owned from a drawer, a pair of boy silky boy short panties, and a strappy sports bra, I had a flash of brilliance. Stepping out of my bedroom, I yelled down the hallway for my dad.

Mom’s head popped out of their bedroom, half her face made up the other still a work in progress. “He’s already left for the day, Mara.” She offered, taking in my unusual outfit. “What did you need?”

 “A sports jersey.” I said, walking toward her. “It’s dress up day at school, you know senior shenanigans.” She was giving me a look of wonder. Shit, why didn’t I play nice at school more with the stupidity. “Doesn’t Dad have a few from when he goes out with the guys?” My dad liked to pretend now and then that he liked silly things like sports.

She nodded, still looking at me like I’d been a victim of a body snatching. “Yeah, come in and go to the far back of his closet.” She sat down at her vanity and glanced at me as I made my way to his closet. “Those jeans, honey, are they-”

“Decent?” I asked, with a snicker. “Sure. If you squint past the painted on fabric and strategic tears.” I was flicking through Dad’s clothes until I spotted it. Baseball jersey for the win. And since it buttoned, I could, once I left the house, unbutton it and show off the very nice and very fetching sports bra I was wearing. “Thanks, Mom.” I offered, dropping a quick kiss on her cheek as I bounced out of her room.

“Amara, do take a change of clothes, just in case.” I rolled my eyes. And my friends wondered why I was the way I was.

“Absolutely, Mom.” I agreed, and went back to my room to finish getting ready.

Hair up in a high ponytail. A pair of blinding white chucks on my feet. Baseball cap I found in the hall closet tucked in my bag. An extra outfit on a hanger, just so my mom wouldn’t lose her shit. And then I was out the door. Early, way earlier than anyone should ever willingly show up at their school, but I was there.

I parked my car and pulled my bag out. Pulling the cap on my head and pulling my ponytail through the hole, I took a deep breath to prepare myself. If nothing else, the fact that I was wearing jeans and a jersey should throw him off his game. And if Negan was off his game, then maybe I could explain myself before I had anything to really worry about. Right? Sure, I promised myself. Negan could be reasonable. He WAS reasonable.

I walked through the empty hallways, the quiet feeling far more surreal and foreboding than any other time before. The silence stretched out before me, my shoes’ soles too soft to even give me the comfort of my own footfalls. I reached the gym before I was ready. Truthfully would I ever be ready to reach him? Nope.

His office door was closed and I almost thought I beat him to the school, but I saw the sliver of light peeking out and nearly groaned. Fuck. I took a moment to give myself a pep talk. Negan was an adult. He just didn’t know how to categorize what he’d seen between me and Joe. Once I explained, leaving out that we’d had sex, he’d be fine. He expected me to do normal senior things. Hadn’t he asked me about Homecoming and Prom? He understood that this was normal. He just didn’t like that I hadn’t told him about it. Calmer, I knocked and heard him tell me to come in.

“Miss Kendall.” He greeted me and my stomach did a flip. Shit he was really truly pissed. “Close the door.” Damn it.

I complied, and when I turned around I felt another flip in my stomach and thanked God I hadn’t had breakfast. Lying in the middle of his desk was the paddle that our principal always referred to as “Spanky” and lovingly reminded us of the day when it was used to hand out the real punishment. Fuck.

“Interesting outfit, Miss Kendall.” Good he’d noticed. “You don’t usually wear jeans. Especially jeans that look like they’ve been painted on.” Fuck. He didn’t sound diverted. He sounded irritated. Shit. “Gonna make the next few minutes take longer than they should, but trust me, they’re gonna happen.” Shit, fuck, shit.

“Negan.” His eyes flashed to mine. OK, nope. “Coach Negan.” I corrected and when he didn’t move I felt comfortable to go on. “Look, I know what you saw yesterday could be interpreted a few ways, but it’s not what you think.” I don’t think, anyway, I added in my head. “Joe was just asking-”

He stood up and I squeaked. Like a mouse. Shit. “What, Miss Kendall, did good ol Joe ask?” Fuck.

I swallowed down another squeak. “He asked me to the spring formal.” I rushed out, he was studying me. “I accepted.” That came out more or less as a breath.

“The spring formal?” Why did he sound so fucking dangerous repeating me? I nodded. “And you said yes?” Another nod. “But you couldn’t take five fucking seconds out of your day to pick up the fucking phone and tell me that?” Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“I just-” What? I tried to ask myself. What didn’t I just? “I didn’t want to-”

Negan had come closer as I was struggling to find words to explain something I didn’t quite understand myself. “You didn’t want to what, Amara?” He was so close I could feel his body heat. “Tell me you were ready to play high school senior? To tell me that you wanted to play in the kiddie pool after telling me that you didn’t want a ‘boy’?” All my words, all coming back to haunt me. Shit.

“It’s not like that, Negan.” I offered, looking up at him. “I just thought, maybe, one fucking dance-”

“You wanted to go to a dance?” He sounded like a broken record, spitting back my words with various levels of disbelief. “With the captain of the wrestling team?” Damn it, I knew he’d get to that part. “Didn’t you turn down good ol Joe at Homecoming?”

“Yes,” I answered, waiting for the next onslaught.

He nodded, and bit his lip. “Why would good ol Joe be willing to risk another possible rejection?” He was studying me again, and I know he saw the faint blush that hit me. “Ah, so good ol Joe was rejected for the dance, but NOT for the DANCE.”

 I fought rolling my eyes. Wasn’t he supposed to be the fucking adult here? “Does that matter?”

“Yes, Miss Kendall, it fucking matters.” His eyes were blazing on mine. “It matters because you’re gonna go to a fucking dance with a guy who WILL expect a repeat of that early performance. It matters because NOW I’m gonna have to fucking go to a fucking high school dance and chaperone it. It matters because I’m gonna fucking brain his stupid ass if he fucking puts his hand lower than your upper back.”

“Negan,” I felt my eyes widening. “You can’t.” He was glaring down at me. “You can’t do any of that. You’ll lose your fucking job.”

“And whose fault is that, princess?” Shit, the heart of the matter. “Take off that ball cap.” I tugged it off and tossed it onto the chair. “Now, unbutton those ridiculous fucking jeans and bend over that desk.” Damn it, fucking Eric’s wet dream for the win. I unsnapped the button and unzipped the zipper.

“Should I-” I started but he shook his head. OK. I leaned over the desktop.

“Face down,” the coolness of the metal touched my cheek. I felt his hands on my waist, and then his fingers on the waistband of my jeans. He began tugging them down, muttering at how tight they were as he worked. “If you fucking thought wearing these fucking pants was going to somehow fucking deter your punishment, sweetheart, I think you’re gonna be fucking upset. Cause it’s increasing the fucking shit, right now.” Fuck. “What the fuck are these?” Oh, the boy shorts. “Princess, where the fuck did you get these fucking things?” His fingers snapped the elastic silk of the panties.

“I don’t know, some store.” I truly had no fucking clue. They were basically toss away period pants if I had to be honest.

“They’re ridiculous too.” He was irritated and only getting more so as he tugged and pulled the jeans down. “These fucking things should be in the goddamn trash. If I didn’t want to murder anyone who might see your naked ass, I’d rip the fuckers off and toss them myself.” Don’t tell him you have a spare set of clothes, don’t tell him, even if that sounded hot as fuck.

I bit my lip when his hands and my jeans and panties met my ankles. The light air against my naked bottom half felt weird, and weirder still when he tossed my dad’s jersey out of his way. “Where the fuck did you get this?” Shit, wasn’t he just fucking curious all over this morning.

“It’s my dad’s.” I answered, and he grunted. “Should I chuck it in the fire, too?”

“Sir.” He corrected. Shit. He was serious.

“Sir?” I asked, hoping that he wasn’t going to go full on Eric’s greatest wet dream ever on me.

“That’s right, Amara. Sir.” I nodded my understanding. “You understand that you asked for this, don’t you, princess?” I nodded again. “Words, Amara.”

“Yes, sir.” I answered, and felt myself get a bit damper. Shit. “I asked for this because I didn’t answer you yesterday, sir.” Fuck if this wasn’t the best fucking bad thing I’d ever done.

“Good girl.” Shit, my stomach clenched at the praise. “Now, since it’s your first infraction, I’m not gonna go too hard on you, but remember this, princess, so you don’t have to experience it again.” Yeah, right.

Spanky the paddle was right beside me, but he didn’t pick it up. Instead, I felt his hand smooth down the skin of my ass and bit my lip. Guess old Spanky was just a fucking prop, I thought, right as Negan brought his hand down full force on my ass. Fuck. I nearly jumped off the desk from the sting. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Count, princess, you’re getting fifteen.” Fuck was that his favorite fucking number?

“One, sir.” Fuck fuck fuck. And then another smack. And I counted. Each and every fucking one, from one to fifteen. Shit. I could feel the sting and burn. I knew that those fucking jeans were going to constitute as more fucking torture. I was also so wet that all I could possibly wish to take my mind off the literal flames of my burning skin was for Negan to bury himself deep inside of me and take care of my other pain.

“Pull up your pants, Amara.” WHAT? I shot him a look of disbelief over my shoulder. “It’s a punishment, princess.”

No fucking shit. Fuck. I stood carefully and bent over to grab my panties. Shit, this was gonna suck. I took my sweet time tugging the thin silky fabric over my burning ass. OUCH. I let them settle on my no doubt flaming red skin, then reached down for the jeans. This took far more time. More time than it took him to get them down my legs. More time that it took to put them on earlier at my house. I bit my lip and closed my eyes as the denim brushed my ass, even with the slight barrier of those fucking boy short panties. OUCH. Damn it. Once they were up, I buttoned them and zipped up.

When I turned to face Negan, I realized I wasn’t the only one who had enjoyed at least part of my punishment. Without waiting for instruction, I carefully got to my knees. What the hell, why not go full throttle submission? Looking up at him, I tugged his track pants down his hips and careful of his obvious need, I settled them on top of his shoes around his ankles. I watched his face as I rose up higher onto my knees and licked his hard shaft from tip to bottom. Nothing, just watched me. No words, no touch. Just his eyes on me. Well shit. Opening my mouth, I took him inside, using my tongue and then adding my hand for good measure.

Finally after the fourth bob of my head, I felt it. His hips thrusting ever so slightly forward. I worked harder and was rewarded by his hands sliding under my ponytail. And as he finally got into the swing of things, so to speak, his fucking mouth kicked into gear.

“That’s right, princess, take my cock, just fucking like that.” He pushed a bit too far and I gagged, again thankful that I’d had no breakfast. “Take it, sweetheart, take it.” And I swallowed my saliva and him, by fucking accident. Shit. “Oh fuck,” he moaned, and then, like I wasn’t entirely prepared for, he came. Down my fucking throat. That he was down because of a fucking accident.

It was swallow or choke so swallow I did. He started to go limp, but I waited, just as I always did when we finished having sex. And, just like during our normal fuckings, he helped me up and cleaned me up. My face this time. Tugging on my ponytail, he smiled down at me.

“Do you still want to go to the fucking dance?” He asked, but the heat of his anger was almost gone from his voice.

“Yeah, I do.” I answered, leaning against the desk and then hissing at the feeling of burning pain. Shit. “Damn it.” He grinned at me. Oh, sure, you can sit down, fucker.

His fingers brushed my errant bangs away. “Fine.” Was that permission? “I’ll go let Turtle Jones know I’m in for fucking chaperone duty.” Shit was he serious?

“Negan,” I began, but he brushed his lips against mine.

He shook his head when he pulled away. “This is non-negotiable, Amara. You go, I go.” Shit, fuck, shit. “Now get going, class is starting in ten minutes.” Shit. I grabbed my bag and the cap, and as I moved to pass him, he swatted me on my ass. FUCK. “Have a good day, princess.” OUCH.

[purplesurveys]

1010

survey from diggitydoo

Have you ever felt a baby kick? Yes, when my mom was pregnant with my brother. What color pants/shorts are you wearing? I’m only wearing a duster gown; no shorts underneath. I just got it last night, actually - my mom wanted to donate clothes to victims of a recent fire incident in Manila and so she asked my sister and I to sort through our closets for clothes we were willing to give away. My sister ended up giving away a comfy-looking duster gown that she never even wore and even smelled brand new to boot. It ended up in my hands, ha. But apart from that we gave away a lot of stuff that aren’t old uniforms or costumes (which is what most people tend to ‘donate’, ugh), so we just hope they end up with people who really need them. When is the last time you did something truly fun, and what was it? Last night I went on our org’s Discord server and we played Jackbox games for around an hour or so. It was my first time to socialize again after around two months and I really, really needed that moment. I even met the org’s newest roster of applicants for this semester, which was neat. :) What was the scariest moment of your life? Men terrorizing me or near-car crashes I’ve had.

Have you ever heard of Leonard Cohen? The name is familiar, but that’s the most I know.

Pancakes or flapjacks? I guess pancakes, since I don’t even know what flapjacks are. What kind of computer are you on? It’s a laptop. Do you eat Chinese food? If so, what's your favorite dish? For sure. Pork buns or minced pork with eggplant. With century egg on the side, yum. What are you usually doing at midnight? Either passed out or desperately trying to sleep because I don’t want to lose any more hours of sleep and risk being cranky for the whole of the next day. Have you ever developed feelings for a friend, but you were already with someone? No. The worst thing that’s happened was being someone’s ball date (and unbeknownst to me, they apparently had feelings for me at the time) while I was already with someone. If so, how did it turn out? He figured it out by himself, which I still feel bad about. But the timing was super off and I just couldn’t find a moment to sit him down and set the record straight...ah well. It was just super complicated at the time. Give me your brief definition of love. My favorite love-related quote is “Love never says ‘I have done enough’” and for the longest time, that has been my guiding principle when it comes to it. Definitely a tad bit cheesy, but telling myself that over and over makes it easier to continue loving the people I care for and be patient with them when they’re being asses. Gab included, then and now. What is the most beautiful part of the human body, male or female? It differs for everyone but I’m a thigh girl through and through. What kind of shoes do you wear? Uh...various ones? I have sneakers, flats, heels, flip-flops, probably a couple more kinds that I can’t place at the moment. What is the worst thing you've ever done when you were really angry? Resorting to physical violence. I was a kid constantly exposed to violence in my old home, and at the time I genuinely thought that’s how most things were settled or pacified. I still feel like shit about it to this day, and my backstory isn’t an excuse at all; but the past is the past and I’ve been trying to make up for it by being a much more gentle angry person in the last few years. Are there any pills you take on a daily basis? If so, what? Nope. Do you like the smell of coconuts? For some reason I can’t stand anything coconut (which is a damn shame considering I’m Filipino) but I love dishes with heaps of coconut milk in them, like curry. That’s the one coconut-related thing I enjoy, but otherwise I’ve never learned to appreciate the taste and smell of buko juice, coconut shavings, coconut pies, and everything else coconut. What is the heaviest you think you can lift? From what my old PE class showed me, around 70 to 80 lbs. Do you take Tums? Idk what that is so I guess I don’t. Have you ever walked on a pier at the beach? I’m not sure if I’ve been to a pier before. I bet it feels wonderful and freeing and I’d love to visit one; but I also can’t keep myself from associating piers with the recurring image of Jennifer Connelly’s character standing on one from Requiem for a Dream. How about under one? No. At what age do you first remember feeling butterflies in your stomach around someone? Not sure if it was 11 or 12, but it was definitely one of those years. Do you feel that way around anyone now? Yeah, if they allowed me to see them. But I’m shut out now so I haven’t had that sensation in a while.

Do you ever talk to yourself or think deep thoughts while on the toilet? No. Do you ever sing to yourself? Sure. I’m sure most people do every once in a while. What is a sound that relaxes you? Ocean waves have never failed. How hard has it been to reach your main goal in life? ‘Main goal’ sounds so overwhelming; I make it a point to avoid one overarching goal and instead make little goals and plans here and there depending on where I am in life. Do you remember the song about hoes in different area codes? Never heard of it. What is your main heritage? Filipino. What kind of pickles do you prefer, if you like pickles? I hate pickles. What kind of cheese do you prefer, if you like cheese? Mozzarella and feta are my faves, but I love cheese and am willing to be adventurous when it comes to it. If you could have a sea creature as a pet, what would you want? Eh, they can stay in the sea where they can actually survive. I don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to keeping fish as pets. How about a farm animal? Probably pig. So, do you have hoes in different area codes? No, and ew. What is the most annoying song you can think of that came out recently? Haven’t been exposed to a lot of new music lately and the songs I do get to hear on the radio whenever I drive are actually pretty good. This totally doesn’t answer your question but my favorites so far have been Birthday by Disclosure, Kehlani, and Syd; and Plain by Benee, Lily Allen, and Flo Milli. What is a song that you hate to admit you like? Any Kanye song I like. What inspires you to get off your bum and do something productive? Not wanting to go into another downward spiral. Do you ever use Urban Dictionary? Extremely rarely. I only do when there’s a new slang I’m completely unfamiliar with. Do you find the definitions on there to be generally funny or stupid? Stupid for the most part. I find them too immature or vulgar, but that’s one of the points of the website so I guess I’m just not in their target audience lol. What comes to your mind when you hear the word 'transformation'? Uh, the Transformer robots.

What was something you regularly played with as a child? My cousins’ toy soldiers.

Have you ever given in to peer pressure? Eh, a few times. If so, what did you do? I’ve been pulled to drinking sessions here and there when I really shouldn’t be drinking because I had an important test tomorrow or something else was happening the next day that was just as significant. What part of your body have you had the most problems with in your life? Teeth, I’m pretty sure. I’ve had braces, needed a tooth extracted, gotten a cavity, and gone through a severe toothache.

Do a lot of people check you out when you're in public? Idk I never look around because being aware of it would just freak me out and make me feel like I’m naked. What is a good name for a turtle? Would depend on their personality. And this applies to all kinds of pets, at least for me. I don’t decide on their names until I have a good grasp of their attitude. Can you imitate any accents well? If so, which one(s)? Stereotypical Filipino mom and valley girl. Do you like having your ear nibbled on? Sure. What makes a good kisser a good kisser? I’ve only kissed one person so I’m not the best judge for this; but I always like it when my lower lip is tugged or grazed on. How many times a year do you have a family thing? This is a little vague for me. Do you mean get-togethers? Giant-ass reunions? Movie nights? Game nights?  What are the best things to put in a smoothie? I only like one kind of smoothie and it’s sold by a local joint – and I think I’ve already shared this before but that smoothie of theirs that I like has “apple, banana, cinnamon, oats, coco sugar, chia seeds, greens, and soy milk,” according to their menu. So I guess those are the best ingredients for me, ha. Do you ever eat with your eyes closed and just focus on the taste? When I find something extremely delicious, yeah. What do you dislike most about where you live right now? For the most part I can’t wait to get out of suburban residential villages. I’d love to finally experience living in a condo in a super busy and active city. Has anyone ever given you a rose/roses? Yes.

Are you watching your weight? Not really. I’m trying to gain pounds though, if anything. I haven’t eaten much in the last two months. Have you ever become really good friends with someone you found online? I trust y’all with my life, so that’s one. Apart from Tumblr, the best friends I made were probably the people in the AJ/Punk fandom, back when I had a stan account on Twitter. I don’t remember most of their names now and we fizzled out pretty quickly when both parts of the ship left WWE, but I look back on that period with fondness. Those people made high school a lot easier for me. What makes your best friend your best friend? She doesn’t care whether I’m on top of the world with happiness or completely self-destructive and crying my eyes out; she has always been present. Do you have a drunk uncle? *rolls eyes* We don’t wanna open up that can of worms... Do you hear weird noises in your house at night? Nope. What is something you do that is generally more like something the opposite sex does? Based on personal experience and not to come off as sexist, but it’s liking wrestling. I have never met a girl in real life who has even the most remote interest in pro wrestling or can tell me who Hulk Hogan is. And the ones I’ve had discussions with - from shallow/casual to in-depth - have all been guys. Seeing girls who are into wrestling is like finding a rare Pokemon, at least in real life. What is the girliest thing you do, if you're a girl? Idk. What is the coolest tattoo you've ever seen? Probably the spork tattoo of Josh, a crew member from Good Mythical Morning. It’s just a line tattoo. Of a spork. On his arm. But he managed to make it so goddamn fascinating lmao; and apparently, as I learned just now, it has a pretty touching backstory to it too, which makes it a million times cooler. Have you ever created anything artistic that you're proud of? If so, what? I’ve never finished any of the crafts I bought. Never finished a coloring book page much less an entire coloring book, a painting, a gem painting...it’s something I’ll have to bring my butt to do one of these days. I can’t imagine how fulfilling it would feel. Do you only eat the middle of the oreo, if you eat oreos? I eat the whole thing but I honestly find Oreos too sweet and I’ve always much rather preferred Oreo-flavored stuff instead of the actual cookies.

Do you know anyone with a huge ego? My mom. If so, is there anything else about them you actually like? She’s fed me for 22 years and gave me an education, I guess. Though it’s something I appreciate more so than like. Have you ever used a racial slur, even jokingly? Probably as a dumb kid, when historical context wasn’t a thing to me yet. I still wince thinking about it, but I suppose what matters is being better and more responsible moving forward. Do you have any friends who are more like siblings to you? Angela and to some extent Andi. 

If so, what about them do you like most? They are both understanding when it comes to me - almost to a fault. What do you like on your hotdogs, if you eat hotdogs? When you say ‘hotdogs’ here, it refers to the sausages itself. The sandwich kind of hotdog isn’t super popular here. What is everyone else in your house doing right now? My siblings are still resting in their rooms; my dad is preparing for work, I think. What is the most money you've ever had at one time? Something like P10,000 or P15,000 when my mom needed me to pay for something in cash. How long do you think it would take you to run a mile? Idk, maybe 10 minutes. I won’t be fast, that’s for sure. Look down. What do you see? My legs and the pillow I’m sitting on. What is a subject that makes you uncomfortable? Right now, probably my failed relationship. I haven’t gotten to the sharing stage yet and remotely thinking about it gets my voice all shaky. What is a subject you can talk on and on about and not get sick of it? Paramore. What kind of mood were you in most of today? It’s only 7:52 AM. My only mood so far is just woke up. Has anyone ever walked in on you naked? Yeah. Because people in this damn house never knock. Tell me an inside joke you have with someone. The word ‘ariba.’ What is the worst thing someone could do to you emotionally? Break my trust. So simple but it packs a punch. What is the worst thing you've ever done to someone emotionally? Idk if I’ve ever been that aggressive. When I want to do something destructive towards someone I always end up asking what it would feel like if the action was done to me, and it’s always been enough to sway me away from doing the thing. How do you feel now about the first person you ever dated? Sad. How about the last person (your last ex)? Same person. What is the best invention ever invented? Air conditioners.

What is something that needs to be invented? Portable air conditioners. What always makes you burp? My burps come randomly. What are you doing tomorrow? It’s my last weekend before my new job, soooooooo...I’ll be bumming around for my last two days of freedom.

[herewegoagainniall]

I’ll Love Her Still: Part 9 (Brian May x Female!Reader)

Brian’s actions here are a direct representation of ME BECAUSE HOLY CRAP G U Y S! I know it’s been a really long time, but like I said: second semester of senior year is very intense because I’m student-teaching full time AND I still have my college commitments. But that doesn’t mean I’ve abandoned this fic! Far from it! I’m working towards the denouement, and I hope you all love it as much as I do. So with that said, happy reading! 

TAGLIST: @alittlepeoplemagic; @brianmayplease; @brianmayscurls; @casafrass​; @chlobo6​; @d-illo​; @delilahmay39​; @exanderstreiching​; @kenzie-belle​; @killer-queen-xo​; @kiwithekiwi​; @maryfree​; @moreinfinite​; @readinghorn​; @rogerscupboard​; @thelegumemother​ 

TRIGGERS: There be angst in this here chapter kiddies 

“Y/N.”

“What?” Brian rolled onto his side to look down at you. “What did you say?”

You looked back up at him with trusting eyes. “My real name. It’s Y/N.” When Brian only looked back at you in confusion, you clarified, “When I first started going around with the bands… I wanted to be somebody else. I wanted to become this beautiful, desirable person, who always had the best clothes, fooled around with the hottest rock stars, listened to the best records.” You paused to scoff, “I couldn’t just let the last part be true, one out of three just wasn’t good enough.”

You’d expected Brian to laugh, but he stayed silent. “Anyway,” you continued, “all the other girls took on different names. They all had the same dream I had. So I picked one of my favorite songs, raided the local boutique and… Lily was born.”

Brian stuck his tongue out between his lips, trying to digest the information you’d just provided him with. The silence between the two of you wasn’t normal- and it scared you. “Brian, please say something,” you finally burst out.

Brian opened his mouth and closed it multiple times before speaking. “Y/N,” he sounded like he was testing the name out, trying it on for size. And when his eyes finally turned back to yours, they weren’t angry or confused. His mouth turned up into a smile. “It suits you,” he finally said. “You feel like a Y/N.”

“You think so?” you smiled, feeling your face heat up.

“Absolutely,” he turned and pecked your nose. “Sweet Y/N,” he murmured before leaning down to slot his lips with yours.

You felt your heartbeat finally slow to a normal pace, and you pressed yours and Brian’s foreheads together. “You have no idea how long it’s been since someone’s called me Y/N,” you laughed slightly. “Not even Sadie calls me that.”

Brian bit his lip and grinned, and looked at you with eyes that seemed to be masking something, though what, you couldn’t quite make out. “Well… maybe I’m not just ‘someone’,” Brian shrugged.

You looked at him with questioning eyes. “What do you mean?”

Brian’s face fell ever so slightly, but he just said, “Nothing.”

You weren’t buying it, but you also could tell that Brian wanted to drop the subject, so you placed your hand on Brian’s face, running your thumb along his cheekbone. “You sounded amazing tonight, Bri. I mean, you do every night, but tonight was especially good.”

That old familiar blush filled Brian’s face and he shrugged, “’M always good when you’re there, Pe- Y/N.”

Hearing your name fall from Brian’s lips stirred something in you, though what, you couldn’t really describe. It was a feeling that was foreign to you… but it was a feeling you liked a lot. You used your hand to bring Brian’s face in closer to yours so you could brush your lips against his gently.

Brian, though, took this as an invitation to lock your lips together more firmly, and started to rub your hip with his hand.

“Bri,” you sighed into a smile when Brian pulled you even closer.

“What?” he mumbled into your mouth, hand smoothing behind you to squeeze your ass.

“No more,” you giggled. “You’ve worn me out.”

“Don’t want more,” Brian clarified, resting his head on your shoulder and kissing it softly. “Just kissing you.”

You hummed contentedly and pecked the side of his head. “You’re sweet.”

“Am I?”

“Mmhmm.”

Brian grinned before you turned your head to kiss his lips again. He was really a wonderful kisser- possibly the best you’d ever had. But before you could have another of his kisses, a knock came on the door.

Brian groaned in disappointment when you pushed him off of you and went to toss on your dress that lay crumpled in a heap. “If Roger’s coming over to talk about his freaking apartment song again, I don’t want to hear it,” he griped.

“Isn’t it a tenement?” you laughed.

“Whatever!” Brian whined, making you laugh even harder.

You strode over to the door, looked through the peephole, and were surprised to see Harmony standing there. You hadn’t seen her since you left her with John, and you couldn’t quite tell how things had gone when you were looking at her through a peephole.

You told Brian that it was one of your friends, and that the two of you had to go into the hall for some “girl talk”, before you unlocked the door, walked out, and closed it behind you softly.

One look at Harmony told you all you’d needed to know- pink cheeks, starry eyes, an airy giggle when you asked her what she was doing there. “So you had a good time with John?” you smirked at her.

Harmony nodded and couldn’t help spinning in a little circle. “Ugh, Lily, he was wonderful. Everything I’d ever hoped he’d be.” She leaned over to you and whispered, “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to walk tomorrow.”

“Well, you made it here, so that’s a good sign,” you laughed. “So… what’s next for the two of you?”

“Oh,” Harmony looked at you quizzically. “what do you mean?”

You couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows. “Well, you finally got John, where are the two of you going from here? Are you joining the tour?”

Harmony cocked her head to the side and smiled. “Ohhhh, I thought about it, but… I don’t know, I think we’re just going to leave things here. I mean, there’s so many guys out there that I want to… John was my first choice, it’s just… I don’t want to tie myself to him, you know?”

The last part of Harmony’s thought flow made you pause for a moment. It was eerily similar to a promise that you and Sadie had made to yourselves back when this whole journey began. Be open to everyone and everything, but when someone tries to stand between you and your freedom, drop them like a bad habit. Commitment went directly against what you wanted… but Brian…

“You okay?” Harmony’s voice broke through your confused haze. “You looked kind of lost there.”

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Sorry, I’m probably just tired.”

“Of course,” Harmony nudged you, “Brian probably keeps you busy, huh?”

“Not like that,” you heard come out of your mouth. “Not always.”

Harmony didn’t seem to notice your shift in demeanor, but she still brought you in for a warm embrace. “I don’t know when we’ll see each other again,” she admitted. “But I just want to thank you for getting me in with John.” She gave a dreamy smile and confessed, “I feel like if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be able to go on this amazing journey.”

You felt yourself smile and hug Harmony again, but your mind was somewhere else. As Harmony turned around to take the elevator back down to the lobby, you found yourself walking in the opposite direction, up the stairs at the other end of the hallway, climbing up, up, up until you reached the rooftop. Standing there, wrapped in the summery, eucalyptus-tinged air, you looked up at the stars and let out a sigh. There was something about the way Harmony acted… so flippant, so dismissive of John. And you were sure neither of them minded. It was like Sadie and Roger; they’d each gotten what they wanted, and they could just leave it at that. That was the whole point of being a groupie- stolen moments of beauty between two souls that weren’t tied to each other. So then why did the idea of doing that to Brian put a black hole in the pit of your stomach?

You knew Brian would probably be coming out to check on you soon- you swore he was the biggest night owl you’d ever encountered in your life. So you let yourself stretch and made your way back inside the hotel. Back to Brian. Back to your place.

The light in Brian’s room was out (finally, he’d decided to sleep at a reasonable hour), so you ever so gently closed the door behind you and crept into bed with him. And as you watched his chest rise and fall, and you thought about finally getting to California… you couldn’t help but wonder to yourself: were you losing yourself in Brian?

[dawninlatin]

Queen of Peace, Chapter 2

A manorian high school AU

Words: 1773

Warnings: Vague mentions of psychological abuse

AO3 Link: Click here

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn't let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

‘Cause I’m gonna be free and I’m gonna be fine

But maybe not tonight

-Florence + The Machine, Delilah

Manon stared into her history book as the desks around her slowly filled up with students.

People were talking about their summers. Parties and hook-ups and vacations and memories made with friends.

She couldn’t have cared less.

The classroom buzzed with excitement over a new semester, a new year. She couldn’t have cared less about that either.

Manon only wanted one thing: To stay focused on her grades, get into a good college and get out of this hellhole. Only the best will do. You don’t want to end up like your mother, do you?

Shaking off her grandmother’s words, she looked up just in time to see Elide Lochan enter the classroom. The girl was wearing a light blue dress, wavy, dark brown hair cascading down her back, and she was headed straight towards Manon. Fuck.

She had managed three years of high school without having to share a class with Elide, but apparently her luck had run out.

Lochan was a walking ray of sunshine. Always smiling, always talking, always caring. She had been Manon’s best friend once, but that was a whole other story.

«Is this seat taken?» Elide asked, still smiling. Manon looked around to see that all the other desks had already been filled up with students.

«I guess it isn’t,» she answered drily before diving back into her book, trying her very best to ignore the girl sitting down next to her.

Elide put down her backpack, taking out her books and placing them in front of her. «How was your summer?»

That girl will only slow you down, stopping you from reaching your goals.

Manon shrugged, not taking her eyes away from the textbook.

She will find new friends as soon as you start high school anyway.

Elide - clearly not taking the hint - spoke again: «I really miss you, Manon.» Her voice seemed hurt, but Manon was certain she could hear a sliver of hope as well.

«No, you don’t.» She still couldn’t look up, couldn’t see the crushing disappointment surely written all over Elide’s face now.

You need to stay focused. You need to study, and not spend your time giggling over make-up and boys.

The next time Elide spoke, Manon lifted her gaze in surprise, for her voice was not shaking, it was hard, almost cold, as she said: «You think you can push me away, but I don’t believe any of this stone cold act you’re putting on. I see you, Manon.»

«No, you don’t,» Manon replied quickly, voice emotionless.

Elide didn’t cower under her stare, didn’t look away. She looked angry, and just as she was about to speak again, the teacher walked in.

Manon turned to face the board, their teacher clapping his hands together before saying:

«Welcome back! Before we get started on today’s lesson, I just want to let you know that the places you have now will be your places for the rest of the semester.»

Fuck.

-

Dorian was walking down the hallway with Aelin, who was furiously ranting about some book she had just finished.

«-and then she went to find this creature so it could tell her how she could heal him, and it reveals that they’re fucking mates! It was insane! So she did the only sensible thing, she stormed off, leaving him, but a few days later he finds her and he tells her everything and she accepts the bond - and believe me, I was sobbing when I read that part - and then they have sex for like 20 pages or something, it was wild - there are other scenes like that too and I didn’t know so I was reading the first one in front of my mom, and she just goes: you okay there Aelin? You look a little warm. I shit you not, she actually said that as I was reading this super steamy scene - anyway, you think everything will be fine but on the last pages EVERYTHING goes to hell and then it just ends!»

Dorian failed to hide his grin as Aelin gestured wildly. She looked mad. «You done yet?»

Aelin gave him a sheepish smile as she said: «Yes, I’m done. I can’t wait for you to read this so we can discuss it together.»

«I’m gonna start it as soon as I have finished my current read, did I tell you about that?»

But Aelin wasn’t listening anymore, Dorian noticed. She had stopped, her smile gone as she was staring at something ahead of them.

Dorian followed Aelin’s gaze until his eyes landed on Manon Blackbeak, standing by her locker, listening to her cousin with a bored expression. She was one of the seniors - just like them - but Dorian had never actually spoken to her. They had never shared any classes, and she wasn’t someone you could just walk over to and start a conversation with.

No, Manon Blackbeak was untouchable.

As Dorian looked at her, he had to admit she was rather pretty. She had long, silky, white hair, full lips wearing a bright red lipstick and her light brown eyes looked like molten gold.

Stop staring, you creep, he scolded himself, shifting his attention to Aelin.

«You okay?» Dorian asked his friend.

Aelin finally seemed to come out of her trance. «Yeah, she just gives me the creeps,» she said, nodding her head towards Manon. «I had PE with her last year, and I swear to god, she has the emotional range of a teaspoon.»

He looked over at her, smirking. «Did you just quote Harry Potter? Nerd.»

She lightly punched his arm. «We both know I could recite the whole series from memory,» she replied, rolling her eyes at him. «Besides, you took that reference. Nerd,» Aelin mocked back, mimicking his voice and sticking her tongue out at him.

Dorian laughed before realizing they now stood outside the science classroom. «Shit! This is my stop. See you at lunch?»

Aelin gave him two thumbs up and a grin before disappearing into the crowd.

As he stepped into the classroom, his mind wandered back to silky, white hair and a pair of golden eyes. Aelin might believe her to be incapable of feeling, but the depth of those eyes told a different story. A story Dorian wanted to hear.

-

«-five, six, seven, eight. And one, two, three -.» The music came to a halt, Manon turning around to face the rest of her team.

«Why did we stop?» Vesta asked, panting slightly, always the first to speak.

Manon didn’t have the patience for this. Today had been stressful enough as it was. After having to spend an entire history lesson with Elide Lochan, her day had progressively gotten worse. It was only the first day of school, and she had already been assigned with two tests and a two-thousand word essay.

«You’re falling behind again, Sorrel,» Manon answered, annoyance clear in her voice.

The routine wasn’t that hard. As long as you focused on the music, it was easy to coordinate the moves.

She could see Asterin rolling her eyes as her cousin bit back: «It’s the first practice after summer vacation! We should start with something easier to get back into the rhythm.»

«You should be in ‘the rhythm’ already. Actually, you should have spent your summer getting better. All the progress we had before vacation is gone now. If we wanna beat Iskra and her team we need to step up.»

You need to be the very best. Always. I won’t accept any less.

Manon could see that Asterin was about to protest, but she beat her to it. «And need I remind you, Asterin, who’s captain of this team?»

She turned the music back on, her grandmother’s words still repeating in her mind.

«We’ll keep practicing this until you know it backwards.»

-

Dorian was lying in bed, looking at old photos, an episode of BuzzFeed Unsolved playing in the background.

He kept scrolling until he reached a photo of himself and Aelin grinning madly as they were riding a rollercoaster. He remembered Chaol chickening out at the last minute, how Aelin clutched his hand as they neared the top, himself puking into a trashcan as soon as they got off. It was taken years ago, but Dorian could still hear the children screaming in frightened delight, could still taste the cotton candy he had shared with his friends, could still smell the popcorn.

If he focused hard enough, he could still feel what it was like being a child. When you had nothing to worry about, because your dad was the strongest, bravest person in the world and your mom could fix every problem.

But it wasn’t like that anymore. They had grown up. Dorian had grown up, and along the way he had realized that his dad was a weak and pathetic coward and his mom could barely handle her own problems.

He looked back at the picture. It wasn’t just his family that had changed.

Dorian, Aelin, Chaol.

It had been the three of them for as long as he could remember. Dorian couldn’t even recall how they had met. Aelin and Chaol was a constant in his life. The one thing he could always rely on, no matter what.

All of that was changing now. He could feel it.

They would soon be scattered across the country for college, and Aelin was spending much more time with Rowan, now that he was her boyfriend.

That isn’t the only thing keeping you apart, a voice inside of him said.

It was also the matter of the secret he kept from them.

Dorian still hadn’t told them he was bisexual. His stomach grew heavy as he yet again reminded himself of the fact.

He didn’t know what he was so scared of. They would without a doubt support him - and he wasn’t ashamed of his sexuality, not in any way - but it was always a possibility, always a what if? And if he told his friends it would be out in the world, and Dorian would no longer have all the control.

The secret inside him kept tugging and tugging, fighting it’s way out, but something stopped it.

Dorian hated himself for not being able to just say it.

He was done letting this get in the way of his friendship.

This was the last year they all had together before going separate ways. He didn’t want to spend it pretending to be someone he was not.

He just had to find the courage first.

A/N: And we're getting started!

Thank you so much for reading this<3

Feel free to leave a comment letting me know what you think<3

Also, I will begin every chapter with a Florence + The Machine quote just because no one can stop me;)

Peace&Love -Dawninlatin<3