#but then she's always had the opportunity to get accommodations and people are sometimes more forgiving when she can't do something

[july-19th-club]

me age seven being sat down in front of the school’s district child psych lady and being given strange, simple spatial puzzles to solve and then long, complicated worksheets and hammering my way through them at the speed of light while having zero comprehension what their purpose was or why i was here: this is urgent! i have to get a good grade in Weird Puzzles, Or Else, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve,

[pettypiastri]

alone together

quinn hughes x fem reader

requested: "Would you mind doing a Quinn x Female Reader? Kinda sad but happy at the end? It’s one of Quinn’s days off before a long road trip, and he’s been in and out of the reader’s at-home office all day asking if they can watch a movie or spend some time together. And she continuously says no and at one point she sees how upset he is. So later she slips out to the living room with a few blankets and sweeps him away to the couch just to dote on him and apologize for wasting their day? If not it’s totally fine! Just felt in a sappy mood :)"

wc: 1k

warnings: self deprecation, angst, two sad people who don't know how sad the other is

a/n: OKAY SORRY it got kinda angsty but i promise it ends fluffy to make up for it!! just a short lil quinn blurby. the incorrect spanish is intentional :)

Your shoulders jump toward your ears when the third knock in the past two hours sounds at your office door. The work in front of you is a pile that doesn’t seem to dwindle no matter how long you spend in front of it. Every time you refresh your email, more grievances come to light. And yet Quinn can’t seem to leave you alone. 

A part of you feels ruffled by his blooming persistence. This semi long distance relationship you find yourself in would almost be less painful if he hadn’t stopped in for a day at home; he’s been away for a few days and is leaving again for another week and a half tomorrow. It feels a bit like a cruel joke, giving you a taste of the quality time you crave and then finding your partner whisked away again, the Vancouver snow he trekked in on his shoes still melted in a puddle by the door. It’s not that you want to make him suffer, you just can’t find the heart sometimes to intentionally hurt yourself more by being in his loving presence. Especially when all he wants to do is cuddle and hold you. Childishly, you do want him to know you can’t always accommodate your work schedule to his wishes since his work schedule can never do the same for you. 

You’re hurt and you’re frustrated by a situation neither of you would choose if given the opportunity and annoyed by your meticulous work still to complete. Yet since you know, not even that deep down, that none of this is his fault, you suck back in the sigh beginning to escape your lips.

“Quinny babe I really can’t right now. I told you this project would take a few hours.” 

“How about just an episode or two of The Office? They’re only 20 minutes each…” Just 20 minutes with you is all he’s asking for. The reminder that this is longer than you’ve spent with him in the past four days hurts you all over again, now feeling like the villain in a situation you really had no responsibility in creating. Your short reply is more so to protect yourself from being too vulnerable than it is tailored toward reassuring Quinn.

“I can’t Quinn.” 

And he knows that. He does. But a small part of him hoped he’d receive even a tiny ‘sorry’ and maybe a few words of affirmation from you, just to know that he’s not hurting alone. That this is as tough on you as it is on him. With his attempted affections left hanging for the third time and now just feeling like a burden, he slumps back to the couch and buries himself in a blanket fort he built himself. 

Quinn’s silence followed by his receding footsteps is the soundtrack to your heartbreak. Resuming the clicking of your mouse makes the perfect accompaniment. 

—

It’s nearly nine by the time you emerge sheepishly from your work cave. After trying to work through eyes blurry with tears one time too many you decided you missed Quinn too much for this to go on any longer.

The house is dark, modeling the moonless night outside, save for the living room. A few paces allows you to see Quinn’s mousey brown hair peeking out from under a pile of blankets. SportsCenter plays the Devils game softly. Your heart clenches at the irony that this is how Quinn finds you most nights when he gets home. Tentative footsteps move your body magnetically toward him. 

Lowering to be eye level with his sleeping form, you run your fingers through Quinn’s soft hair. He stirs after a few passes.

“Can I join you?” He grunts and readjusts his head before opening his eyes.

His stormy eyes regard you with their usual fondness. It’s the look that first clued you in to Quinn’s feelings. When you realized, you couldn’t unsee it. And Quinn’s never once stopped looking at you that way.

“What’s the password?” 

Traitorous tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you huff a soft laugh. He’s not mad at you.

“Quinn is the best boyfriend in the world?” You try, voice an accordingly affectionate hum.

Quinn thinks. “It’s a three part-er.” He settles on.

“I’m sorry for working so long?” You try. Quinn nods and gestures for you to continue. Two for three. Your fingers haven’t stilled in his hair once but now they slip to caress his slightly stubbly cheek. 

“I’m the worst girlfriend in the world?” Quinn quickly shakes his head ‘no.’ Selfishly you tried that just to seek his reassurance; it works a little bit. “Ummm Quinn Hughes is the best Hughes??” Quinn laughs, your favorite sound in the world bouncing off the walls of the quiet Vancouver condo, making your house a home.

“Yes but no.”

A smile disguises the fact you find yourself genuinely a bit stumped. “What am I forgetting then?”

He gives you the same eye roll you’re accustomed to seeing during his media and rolls from his side to his back dramatically. Your hand slips from his face. Silence persists until,

“OH!” Giggling gently you move to bully your way under the tangle of blankets.

“Umm excuse me missy you haven’t finished the password.” Quinn protests but his hands are already grabbing at your waist to hold you against him. Once you settle enough against his chest you meet his eyes and say with full conviction,

“I love you Quinny.” 

Your words tickle a smile out of him, a blush darkening his cheeks, still not used to hearing those words from you after all these years.

“I love you too baby. Welcome to Casa a la Quinn. But I get to pick the movie.”

[librathefangirl]

Headcanons About Meliodas' Sleep

(Brought to you by this post and encouraged by @7-ratsinatrenchcoat)

Okay. First of all, demons are nocturnal. You cannot convince me otherwise. It's literally canon that they are at least twice as strong at night. You expect me to believe they just sleep through that? No chance. Demons are nocturnal; their sleepy time is the daytime.

Of course this doesn't mean they can only sleep during the day. Demons are as flexible with their sleep as any other race. They're also forced to be so more than any other race, given the war with races who very much are not nocturnal. But the best and most natural option for them is to sleep during the day.

Demons also need less sleep than humans.

Now Meliodas has always had a crappy sleep schedule. Between his father, Chandler, leading the Ten Commandments and the constant conflict with the goddesses, Meliodas doesn't have the time (or takes the time) to take care of himself properly.

His sleep especially suffers from this. Because not only does it not match the expectations placed on him, it also means leaving himself more open and vulnerable than he's comfortable with.

Because of this, Meliodas is also a very light sleeper; always alert in the case of a threat. The only times he actually sleeps deeply is when he feels completely safe (around people he trusts).

The first time it happened was with Elizabeth at Heaven's Theater. It wasn't something he planned to do, of course, but it was the first time in a long time that he actually felt at peace. (And even he can only go so long without any proper sleep). When Elizabeth noticed that he'd fallen asleep, she just let him sleep, keeping watch over him. It ended up being the best sleep he'd had in years.

After Meliodas joins Stigma, his sleep does not get any better. He doesn't have any more reason to feel safe there than he did in the Demon Realm, and with Stigma's members being diurnal, his opportunities to sleep during the day is significantly decreased (Ludociel is not about to accommodate for a demon's needs).

He technically could sleep during the night instead, but it's not something that comes naturally to him, and frankly, he doesn't like it. So when he can get away with it, he doesn't. Instead, he gets his sleep mostly through naps of varying lengths during the day.

Elizabeth, Gloxinia and Drole all work together to make sure that Meliodas gets the sleep that he needs. They do this by giving Meliodas time to sleep, distracting Ludociel, keeping non-demon friendly Stigma members away, and just watching over him.

As much as possible, they try to make sure at least one of them is by his side as he sleeps. Because he sleeps a lot better around people he trusts, but also because otherwise they'd have to trust him to take care of his own sleep (and as we've already established, he sucks at this).

After the curse, things get a lot worse before they get better. During that first time (before he meets Elizabeth's first reincarnation), Meliodas just goes through the motions. Sometimes he's awake/walks until he collapses, sometimes he sleeps for days; caught up in his grief and burdened by his newfound immortality.

Starting with the Elizabeths, Meliodas finally regains some regularity back into his sleep. Mostly because he needs to keep her safe, needs to figure out a way to break the curse; but also because she's always Elizabeth, she always cares about him and his well-being.

Adjusting to a human sleeping schedule is hard. Over the years, Meliodas develops some hybrid sleep pattern. He sleeps some during the nights, but also stays awake through most of them and sleeps during the day whenever he can.

Meliodas' sleep is at its best when he's with Elizabeth and/or have something that requires him to keep to a proper schedule.

Meliodas still sucks at taking care of himself though and will often mess up his sleep up. Something Merlin has been on his case about many times over the years; there have been threats of violence.

For that she is grateful for more than one reason when they gather the rest of the Seven Deadly Sins. With how close they are all living, how close they are all working, Meliodas has less openings to fuck upp his sleep. Especially since the other Sins don't know that he is a demon, meaning they expect him to keep to a human sleep schedule. If he fucks it up, they notice, and they care.

Meliodas also feels a lot of responsibility for the other Sins, so he's more careful about making sure he gets his sleep, so not to mess up their chances at a better life.

He still doesn't like sleeping at night, however, so he works around that whenever he can. For example, insisting on keeping watch during the night while the others sleep.

This also means he frequently takes naps during the day. It's something that the others think is weird at first, but over the years they just accept it as a quirk of their captain.

Meliodas has the habit of falling asleep randomly and pretty much anywhere, when around the other Sins. He knows that even if these people don't know the truth about him, they will have his back. So he feels safe around them, and relaxes enough to fall asleep. And when I say anywhere, I mean ANYWHERE. Just as long as someone else of the Sins is nearby.

Mostly it happens when they're alone, just the Seven Deadly Sins. But sometimes it has happened in more public situations. If anyone would dare to say anything about the captain of the legendary Seven Deadly Sins falling asleep "inappropriately", well, they'd be quickly shut down by the rest.

After the Seven Deadly Sins are framed and forced into hiding, Meliodas struggles not to fall back into bad habits. It's mostly keeping to his routines (running the tavern, being around Hawk, etc.) that keeps him from slipping too badly.

It's hard though, not being around the people who he feels most safe with. Thankfully, the Boar Hat gives him privacy at least, letting him be more relaxed.

Being away from Elizabeth is the hardest. The not knowing what's going on with her. He knows she's alive, because the curse says she'll die in front of him. But that's only a small comfort, and over the decade her fate and well-being sometimes keeps him awake both night and day.

After his secret/race is properly revealed, Meliodas is more open with his sleep. His sleep doesn't really change much compared to before, but the way he deals with it does. He's all lot more honest about it - yeah, he hasn't slept yet, it's night, he doesn't really feel like sleeping.

The others approach it differently now too. It's not just an odd quirk of their captain, it's part of his nature. This means that if he wants to sleep during the day, he should sleep during the day. Of course, they've always let him do that, but now they're more adamant about it (not even Meliodas is allowed to get in the way of Meliodas' natural sleep kind of adamant).

As king of Liones, Meliodas doesn't always have the luxury of sleeping whenever he wants to - but he still keeps to more of a hybrid sleep pattern. He loves falling asleep with Elizabeth, so he will sleep some during the night. But will also stay awake most of it and take some nap during the day - depending on the day and the state of the kingdom/his duties that day.

When Tristan was little, he and Meliodas used to nap together during the day (you know, something like this).

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hi, I wondering if I could get some input about a friend of mine? (mention of past abuse but not detailed)

This friend is pretty much the only friend I've had throughout school, I'm just not really good at keeping friends (multiple reasons plus parental-enforced isolation). Since the pandemic I've been pretty much 100% isolated and I was able to get out of one situation but ended up in another bad situation.

I asked my friend if I could ask her for advice/her opinion and she basically told me that "she knows I've gone through a ton of stuff and was able to survive that, so this isn't too serious, not when it's happening to [me]"

I was quite close to becoming homeless, without any ID, and being verbally/emotionally (and possibly close to getting physically) attacked by the person who let me stay with them temporarily (long story short, they said they were good and they were not).

I don't really have any family or friends and don't have much experience with positive relationships, so I wanted to ask if this was an okay/good thing for her to say? I know I've been through worse, but I was kind of hoping for her to be a bit more understanding I guess? I listen to her talk about crushes, her interests, anything happening in her life etc but she doesn't listen as much to what I say.

I know I have the unfortunate luck of being in bad situations a lot so what I have to say about my life isn't like what most people get, and I understand that that could be overwhelming for her so I do my best not to mention it a lot, and if I to I always ask if she's in a mentally good position to do so.

I have an online job that requires overtime and moved to an area where I know nobody really and therefore don't really have the opportunities to make friends (I'm saving up money to go to college since no one did that for me, so people my age are having very different experiences, ones that I wish I could have).

This friend has also told me that she's only really my friend because she knows no one else wants to be. Which kinda sucks in a way because I know we're not fully compatible as friends, there's often odd pauses in conversations and stuff. But she now has multiple friend groups in university and doesn't want me around because she's busy with them. Which I understand! I don't expect her to change her life to accommodate me, I just wish we could see each other more than once or twice a month where she talks about her friends and life.

In the past my friend has even tried getting specific friends of hers (that she thinks would like me AKA usually has gone through traumatic event(s) ) to be friends with me but it just.. doesn't work. I think it's because of cptsd + (undiagnosed) autism + growing up in a cultic environment, but I'm not 100% sure. I know that I'm okay with having no friends or family, but for some reason I really wish I had a found family of sorts, like a parental figure or siblings??

Anyways do you have any advice or input or opinions about my friend? (or the situation?)

Hi anon,

I'm sorry to hear about what you've been going through.

It sounds like you already know that your friend isn't treating you properly.

I think it is reasonable to have expected her to be more compassionate in her response. While perhaps she was trying to empower you by saying you can overcome it, the way she said it was definitely minimizing, especially by making it seem like what you're going through isn't serious, or never is if it's you it's happening to.

It sounds like your friendship is unbalanced, especially as you say you try to be more invested in her than she is in you. It's good that you're trying to be mindful of her headspace before you talk about something potentially heavy with her, but I'm wondering if that mindfulness is reciprocated as well.

I'm also concerned by her saying that the only reason she's your friend is because she knows no one else would be. That's a red flag. Abusers will sometimes say something along those lines to isolate you.

I think with all things considered it would be good to think about how you feel about your friend and figure out if this friendship is what you deserve. It's ultimately up to you whether or not you want to remain friends with her.

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

-Bun

[ironcladrhett-archive]

SUMMARY: a brief history of the mind. CONTENT WARNINGS: sibling death (past events)

—

The first time was always the most difficult.

When Rhett was twenty three, he lived nomadically. Hopping from place to place, following after the whispers of fae-flavored mischief in the hopes that it would lead him to his runaway lutin. He met all sorts of people—hunters, many of them, as they tended to gather into larger communities even if they had physical space between them. They were interconnected, familiar with the other hunters in their area and beyond, and always willing to help. He liked that—it reminded him of a metaphorical wharenui. Sure, there was no physical house where they all met, but it was in their minds and in their hearts. They were good people, all of them. Trustworthy people. Beautiful people. 

One hunter wormed her way into his heart in a very unexpected way, overpowering his misguided decision to keep everyone at an arm’s length. He continued to return to her, finding excuses to be around her, even going so far as to make up a story about a nearby fae disturbance. She sussed him out, of course, but found it charming. Everett, charming? He’d never seen himself as such, but it was with a smile on his face that he allowed the hunter to break down his walls and call him her own. For the first time, he entertained the idea of starting a family. He wanted to stay with her, fondly remembering how close his own family had been—how their intense upbringing had always been cushioned with love and affection. He wanted that for their baby. He wanted to be able to teach them how to grow up strong and independent, capable of helping those that couldn’t help themselves: just like his own parents had raised him and his siblings. Unfortunately, that was not the only thing he wanted. He also wanted to find the creature that had taken those siblings away from him, that had robbed him of the opportunity to ever be an uncle. The one that ensured none of his children would ever meet anyone on their father’s side of the family.

This is where the trouble began.

The woman he loved resented the way he came and went. Always hot on the lutin’s heels, Rhett would be gone for longer and longer stretches of time: first it was days. Then weeks. Then two solid months. She couldn’t take it, she explained through her tears, palms splayed over her stomach that had grown to accommodate their unborn child. She knew he would never change. She said it wouldn’t be fair of her to ask him to change. After insisting that she would raise the child on her own and train them the same way she’d been trained in her own youth, she told him to leave. Leave and never come back. Sometimes he still wondered if that child resented him, or ever even thought about him. Perhaps their mother had found someone else to fill in the hole Rhett had left, and the kid had never gone wanting for love. He hoped so.

The first time was always the most difficult, but walking away became easier over the years. 

The warm desire for companionship turned cold; honeyed words soured into bitterness on his tongue. He became everything opposite of the father he’d looked up to in his youth, erasing all reminders of what he had lost, of the person he was supposed to be. This was who he was, now—bloodied and feral on his worst days, detached and quiet on his best. There was no room for sentiment, he told himself. Sentiment would just get you killed. But as often as he reminded himself of this, sentiment still had a way of infiltrating his fortress. It could always find the cracks in his foundation, seeping into them and rotting him from the inside out like a cavity. It made him soft, it put him at risk. 

The Cortez family had put him at risk—more accurately, his affection for them had. Try as he might to keep himself distant, it was easier said than done. He never acknowledged it, but he craved that sense of belonging. He hated being touched but he wanted to be touched; emotionally, physically, whatever he could get. His life had turned into a single-note orchestra of slow rises and violent drops. Discovering Etla made him yearn for a found family: and find it, he did. Emilio, eleven years his junior, was just a teenager the first time Rhett came hurtling into their lives—bombastic and wild and full of stories to tell. The boy had immediately filled that void the death of his own younger siblings had left within him, and he clung to it like he’d die without it. Flitting in and out of their lives was his way, but he always came back with fresh tales and trinkets to give to the younger ones, morphing into the bizarre and eccentric uncle, brother, and friend he’d always wanted to be for this surrogate family. This continued for years—long enough for Rhett to see Emilio grow into his own, shifting from mentee to mentor, growing up and having a little nephew of his own come along to help soften those hard edges.

He still tried to convince himself that it was different from the children he’d leave behind with single mothers. He couldn’t be a part of those families, there was too much responsibility. With the Cortezes, he was always a welcome presence but never an expected one. It was easy. It allowed him to live the way he’d grown accustomed to, free of judgment or resentment. They permitted him to be himself in a way that none of the women with whom he continued his lineage possibly could—and that wasn’t on them, Rhett knew. It was never their fault. He was the bad partner, the bad father, but at least he was a good hunter.

When the Cortezes were ripped away from him, it felt like Okuti Valley all over again. The bodies might have been gone by the time he arrived in Etla, but death still hung in the air and made it impossible to breathe. His friends, his family—stolen from him. The instinctual urge to declare a mission of revenge for their slaughter came hard and fast—but he couldn't. He already had one obsession, he couldn’t take on another. He couldn’t do it. It would tear him apart, and he was still cognizant enough to recognize that fact, no matter how desperately he hated it. They were gone, all gone, and there was no one left to fight for. He had to let it go. Their memory had to be quarantined, just like the memory of his first child’s mother. Couldn’t dwell on it. Couldn’t dwell, or the obsession would manifest. Move on, pick back up, forget and reset.

He never truly forgot them. None of them. That just wasn’t something you could do, your own agenda be damned. They haunted his dreams in a way only happy memories could, but that’s all they were—memories. 

Until, one day, they became real.

[brunitofindshappinessfanfic]

BRUNO & THE STRANGER

💚❤️💚❤️💚

The knock at the door was Louisa. She looked like she had something on her mind.

"Louisa! I've hardly seen you since the construction began. Do you want to sit down and chat?"

"Actually, I was wondering..." did all the Madrigals look this adorable when they were nervous?

"Go on, you can tell me," Catalina assured her.

"Well, some people from the village are throwing a party for the new people, to get to know each other and there will be people my age there and..."

"And...?" 'Lina could tell where this was going but was savoring the tender moment.

"Well, Isa always looks pretty, even when she's a mess, and she makes it look so effortless. I was wondering if you could help me out? I want to look pretty tonight -"

"But darling, you are pretty."

"I don't want to just be the work horse, if you get what I'm saying..."

"I totally do. A makeover for the ball-"

"It's just a party-"

"Okay, more subtle then," Catalina eased, "but you do know you are beautiful."

Louisa began tearing up.

"Come on in then. We can talk about it while I get you gussied up."

Louisa just made it through the door, but the larger-on-the-inside magic accommodated her height once she was inside.

Catalina gestured for Louisa to sit down in front of a vanity.

'Lina sat on the counter and held Louisa's hand.

"Now, what's going on? What all do you want to do?"

"Maybe different makeup? I'm not sure," Louisa started.

"Not sure where to begin or what you want done?"

"Both," Louisa confided.

"That's okay! How much time do we have?"

"I'm not sure-"

"That's fine, I'll use glamor magic. This would have been an excellent learning opportunity for Mirabel but," 'Lina said with her hands on her hips, standing once again.

"Mirabel and Isabela make it look easy," Louisa started.

"Yeah, it's easier for some than others," Lina had to lower the chair to access Louisa's face, "do you want to try a different hair style?"

"Umm" Louisa didn't sound very confident.

"That's alright. I'll just start on the makeup. Now, look me in the face," Catalina looked Louisa in the eyes, "when I do makeup, I bring out more of what you have. You are the beautiful foundation, understand?"

Louisa nodded.

"Now you've got gorgeous brown eyes, they are very expressive. How do you feel about a touch of gold on the eyelid?"

"Well, nothing too different..."

"I think it'll bring your eyes out nicely. You were saying?"

"Well, when you put it that way," Louisa started, "I know I shouldn't feel this way but my sisters... I feel like I'm not as pretty as they are,"

"Girl," Lina was trying to find the right words. She pointed to a few flowers that were tattooed onto her arm, "the hydrangea, the poppy, and the rose are all pretty flowers but don't look alike."

"Sure, but they're all flowers. Sometimes I don't even feel like I'm one of the flowers," Louisa's tearing up threatened some of the eye makeup Catalina had done.

"Well, candles, sunsets, and flowers are all beautiful, too. But they aren't similar at all," Lina was seeking her centuries of experience. "But darling, you are gorgeous. And it's not all on the outside," she dabbed the corners of Louisa's eyes. She started on some bronzing agent.

"Your eyes are rich with laughter and tears. Skin brightened by the sun's touch. Your hands convey a gentleness that can only be measured by the strength of your heart," she circled over so that she would be standing behind Louisa for the big reveal in the mirror. "The sun couldn't outshine you."

Louisa was carefully looking at herself in the mirror. She smiled.

"Do we have time for something else?"

"Of course, but let me grab something real quick," Catalina went digging about her trinkets.

She produced a pair of earrings. They were made of rose quartz cut brilliantly and set into gold studs.

"You'll need this, it'll maintain the connection of my magic to your appearance. Okay?"

"They're beautiful," Louisa handled them gently, trying not to cry.

And so on went their little makeup session.

Louisa left with a big smile on her face and some newfound confidence.

"Thank you tía Lina," Louisa left around sunset.

She sat down and adjusted to the little leak of magic, attached to Louisa's earrings. It wasn't a large drain, but it was there.

She made her way up to Bruno's tower. Casita seemed to be eager, as it clattered and shifted its tiles to make her ascent faster.

[capncodfish]

INTRODUCING JAMES HOOK. A HUMAN FROM ECHO CREEK.

James Hook has always been synonymous with the word “fear.” Growing up was tough and life wasn’t the best it could be and he often got caught up in trouble. He was always getting into fights and serving multiple detentions which lead to suspension and eventually expulsion. James didn’t really care at the time but as things passed parts of him wondered what could have been if he finished school and went to college.

He wasn’t surprised getting kicked out of school. His parents weren’t happy, but at least they had more help at the docks now which was enough to satisfy them.

The docks were a lot of hard work and it quickly bulked him up. Some people say he did steroids but he swears it was just all the heavy lifting at work.

He stopped giving a shit when he met Billy. The guy seemed alright and was pretty smart, to James at least. He quit the docks because he was sick of his parents and saw an opportunity for himself.

Opening Neverland was his idea. James wasn’t stupid but he wasn’t book smart like Billy. He had enough smarts in him though to get the club moving along. Billy was mostly there for all the boring shit James didn’t want to do for the club. Besides, all the other bars in Echo Creek sucked.

When Neverland first opened James felt like he was finally content with his life. Then Peter Pan came along and ruined it all. Losing his hand was really difficult to deal with, but having the prosthetic helped. That was until Chrissie turned it into a hook.

His sister is a very sensitive topic and those in his life that actually know she exists know not to bring her up. The last time someone did they lost an eye. He has some regret in his heart for kicking her out of his life, but he also knows he’s successful the money he sees from club revenue makes it easy to forget. Sometimes he thinks of her though, but he hasn’t really seen much of her since he kicked her out.

When he had enough money he bought a boat. It’s just a nice fishing boat, but he grew up near the water and smelling of dead fish at the end of most days because of work and such. Still, he fishes even now and loves his boat.

After the boat came a house and James finally felt like he was ahead in life. He still had a hook for a hand but he had learned to accommodate. Sometimes he wanted to hunt Chrissie down and get his hand back, but he’s certain it’s too late for that.

The more time that passes the more his hatred for Peter grows. He detests that his sister sided with him and wouldn’t care if Peter dropped dead.

After losing his hand he started drinking a lot. Like, yeah he drank before seeing as he owned a club but even at home he drinks now. It’s not really a good coping mechanism, but it help him in the moment.

He doesn’t really have many good hobbies. He’s usually at Neverland and if he’s not there he’s either fishing or drinking. Or both. Sometimes he reads but not as often as he used to.

Honestly, all that’s missing in his life is maybe some company but he’s so good at pushing people away that he doesn’t have much for company.

He’s just trying to live the life the way he feels is destined to and he isn’t going to let anyone get in the way of that.

Libra sun, Aries moon, Aries rising.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Settlement: Vedanna, the Lotus-Stained City

 “My Awa had an old clay teapot, used it every day, boiled the leaves right inside it and never cleaned it out. As it steeped the essence of the tea would set into the clay, mingling with the flavor of all the previous brews. Sometimes you’d end up tasting something she’d made days, or even years ago and In lean times when she had to skimp, you could still taste the memories of past and plentiful years. 

I have her teatpot now, and I use it every day. When I do I can’t help but think about the lives in this city, all the hundreds of thousands that came before me, the parts of their lives left behind to flavor mine. All their sweet days and the bitter, all together in my cup”.

-Damselfly Kamadyu, outlaw queen. 

Settlement: A city that’s endured for over two millennia can be a lot of things over its lifespan, seat of warlords, site of pilgramage, hanging garden amid desolation, A haven for traders and outcasts. Beyond the rise and fall of the nations and empires that have claimed it, the city of Vedanna blooms eternal from the quagmire of history, or so say those who wish to link their own legacy to the city’s innumerable glories.

The city’s current incarnation is one of stratified excess, with common people pushed to the fringes as a noble caste of “Sanctified” transform Vedanna’s inner districts into one great temple complex, a place where they can be free from the grime and impropriety of the world while they indulge in ritual and luxury. Those who actually tend to the city’s functions are forced to dwell in a vast network of tunnels out of sight of their masters, or in structures overlooking the stagnant canals and waterways upon which every year the jungle encroaches. 

Should the party end up visiting Vedanna, it’s inevitable that they’ll end up at the high bridge bazar, a market with a greater population than some of the villages they’ll have passed to get there. The bridge was originally constructed as one of the main thoroughfares between the outer and inner city, wide enough to accommodate an army of porters, functionaries, and palanquins passing back and forth both ways. When the Sanctified began restricting access to the inner city to prevent spiritual contamination, it created a massive traffic jam that became permeant once the doors were sealed for good. Wares are hauled up from the canals below on massive cranes, and the fortifications built into the supports of the great bridge were repurposed as warehouses and inns. 

Adventure Hooks: 

Life on the outside’s not all bad, as Vedanna still sits at the heart of one of the world’s greatest trade nexuses, with caravans crossing highways both ancient and modern to pay a visit to the ever blooming city, their carts laden down with goods form every corner of the map. A party signing on as guards with such a caravan may in fact find the endless opportunities of their destination more valuable than their contracted pay. Mercenary companies, explorers, smugglers, someone is always looking for skilled hands in the everblooming city. 

Enjoying themselves perhaps a little too much, the party gets a bit drunk and rowdy in one of the common houses built into the foundations of the High bridge, damaging enough property during a bar brawl to earn themselves a speedy ejection into the canals below. Coming-to some hours later with a hangover, they discover that they’ve been captured by some of the monstrous scavengers who dwell in the city’s shadow, and have been deprived of their gear sometime after being dragged from the flower strewn muck. 

While the Sanctified may keep order in the city through the use of their imposing, gilded automotons, the true power in Vedanna is Damselfly Kamadyu, the swashbuckling queen of the city’s outlaws. Daughter of a merchant crippled by one of the city’s gangs looking to extort protection money, Kamadyu took up the blade to dispense her own justice, and ended up ruling over half of Vedanna’s underworld in her attempt to clean up her neighborhood. While the common people has prospered under her reign, Kamadyu has set her heist on the city’s increasingly distant and draconian overlords, and is putting together a crew to breech the inner districts and steal back a little of what they’ve horded over the years. 

The religious movement that became the Sanctified took hold among the city’s elite near a generation ago, and since then the common people have seen less and less of their betters, who dispatch their edicts through mechanical servitors and would prefer their mortal servants move about their manors in unseen passages. That’s what makes it so odd when a priest of the Sanctified appears in one of the city’s outer districts, preaching about a restoration of order and inviting the onlookers to be thankful for “What we have accomplished on your behalf”. Only the party can stop this Sanctification, but doing so will require them to uncover the truth about the alien power that has taken root in the heart of the ancient city. 

[angry-geese]

For Myself

Sukuna x Reader

Warnings: nsfw mention. mention of violence, blood, injury, and cannibalism. implied murder. starts off kind of dark but gets fluffier towards the end. gn!reader.

obligatory warning for my poor editing skills. if theres any egregious errors i'll get to them when i get home from work

Summary: some fluff where Sukuna comforts the reader while they're sick

Word Count: 2.4k

He's certain you would be more comfortable in his lap than on the floor. Even as he beckons you to sit, you refuse, turning your gaze away. You adjust your position to a more comfortable spot on your knees. The floor is hard and cold, but you don't have much longer to wait anyway. Sukuna has grown bored of the man standing in front of him. A peace offering, in exchange for not razing their village. A young woman, brought here against her own will. Her life to replace yours. It's nothing Sukuna wants, nor can he make use of her. She’s no sorcerer, likely no good in a fight, and too frail to be worth eating.

Worst of all, it insults you.

An insult to you, is an insult to Sukuna himself.

The man was only delaying the inevitable. Humans have a habit of doing that. They’re resilient, like cockroaches. You can squash, poison, trap, or drop a nuke on as many as you want to, but they’ll always come back.

He planned on killing him from the moment he stepped foot in the door.

And when he kills him, he makes sure to have the woman watch. She lays curled at your feet as you regard them both with cold eyes. Not a scream passes her lips. She’s either frozen with fear, or knows that moving is the worst thing she can do.

She begs for her life.

Sukuna leaves it up to you to decide.

It was an insult to you, after all. In a past life you could see yourself letting her go. There's many things in life you used to do that are no longer habits of yours. You were in her shoes years ago. Time has hardened you, made you cruel. If a past version of you could look at you now, you don't know if you’d recognize yourself. Not all change is bad. People are meant to change, and they’re going to do so.

You give her a minute to start running. After that, it's up to Sukuna with what he wants to do with her.

She takes the opportunity, thinking she has a chance to survive, and flees. The guards and servants let her. Your word is second to Sukuna’s. The only person who could overturn an order put in place by you is Sukuna himself. He usually doesn't. The resulting chaos from anything you do is good entertainment. And he has all the time in the world. Being immortal leads to a lot of boredom.

Sukuna would hunt her down before she could escape the estate.

Nobody got away from him. Not even you. Nowadays you’re much less serious about leaving but you still threaten it if he dares piss you off.

He'd never let you go. You know that. Try as you will, you're never getting free.

Not that you have anything to go back to. And you're rather comfortable here. Comfortable may be a bit of a stretch, but you're housed, fed, and protected. The basic human needs are taken care of. Sukuna cares about you in his own, twisted way. You may have first been just a plaything to keep his stomach full and his balls empty—a toy to be discarded after a day or two—but you've earned a place by his side. He wakes up next to you, he goes to sleep next to you. He's grown used to having you around. And you to him.

You're just as much his, as he is yours.

Everything about the man is selfish, and all-consuming. But when he is with you, he finds himself giving for the first time in his life.

He gets a servant to draw him a bath. He has the decency to scrub the blood off before finding you, and asking you to join him. His bloodied kimono is replaced with a clean one. It's black, the sleeves are wide enough to accommodate his four arms. Blood doesn't bother you, but he doesn't want to track it all over his house.

Something is wrong.

He doesn't remember you getting hurt, but you’re acting like you’re injured. He thinks back to this morning, how he had to drag you out of bed. How sluggish you acted.

Worry creases itself between his eyebrows.

Your mortality was something he knew of, but never gave much thought. There was no need to. The mortality of others was something he didn't care about. You weren't supposed to be kept long. You were merely a sacrifice, meant to appease Sukuna, and in turn he wouldn't raze your village. While young, and pretty, not good enough to save your people. He planned on fucking you, burning your village to the ground, then eating you. Not necessarily in that order, but that was the plan.

He's taken everything from you. Your home, your life, your family. Even as you were forced to face your fate, you never gave in, never lost your bite. You defied him and lived. You had a malicious streak in you. You were never as sweet and as innocent as the people of your village first played you up to be. Years later you still put up the same fight. It's a constant back and forth between you two.

You’d never be able to hurt him. As much as you'd scratch and bite, you'd never so much as draw blood. Harming the King of Curses was not an easy task.

His 'love' was much more material at first. As you got settled down, survived more than a week, gifts appeared. Jeweled hair pins and beautiful, expensive kimonos appeared. All made just for you. He'd never admit to being behind it. You were not complacent, but you were comfortable. You were his spoiled pet. That didn't stop you from clawing at his eyes whenever he picked you up when you didn't want to be touched. Being spoiled didn't make you nice.

None of his pets have lasted quite as long as you have. At least eight times the trees of his estate have shriveled and turned brown in winter, and the ground has hardened with frost. At least eight times they've bloomed and have had the life of spring breathed back into them, and the ground has thawed and turned muddy. You just did what you had to in order to survive. You've more than just survived. Some would say you’ve thrived. You would beg to differ. If you were the begging type.

He still views you as a pet. You’re human after all. Though sometimes it feels like you’re becoming more curse than human. Being viewed as an equal to him is impossible, but he values you. You're not something that can easily be replaced.

His hand touches your shoulder from behind. You don't flinch. You used to flinch. Then you started swinging. You're never able to hurt him. You're strong, but not that strong.

"She was far too frail to eat," you say, "I assumed you didn't want to keep her for that."

You don't eat human meat. Or try not to. Early on in your stay, before you knew better… It wasn't pork. Uraume was a wonderful cook, but not for anything you ate. Personally it's not your thing. Non-human meat is hard to come by around here, so you’ve stopped eating the stuff altogether. If you wanted it, Sukuna would make a servant get it for you, but you are content without it.

"You made the right call." He says. You always do.

He slips beside you, watching as you remove the intricate pins from your hair. You always loved your hair. Even at your darkest moment you took great care of it. It was a source of pride for you.

A wave of nausea rolls over you. Sweat beads in your hairline, rolling down your back, under the thin fabric of your—his—robe. You have little need for clothes. It doesn't get that cold here. Sukuna tears them off you anyway. Covering yourself up isn't necessary, but you do it out of modesty, and a sense of normalcy. You protest as he pulls at the fastenings of your robe, the flimsy fabric pooling at your feet. You have no plans on getting wet, you’d much rather go to bed. You’re tired, and you don't want to be bothered.

The tub is large enough to fit several of you. You guess it's fitting. The man is huge. He settles into the water behind you, pulling you to his chest. Try as you will, you’re not going to be able to struggle out of his grip. You’re too tired to put up much of a fight, though you do complain.

One of his sets of arms wraps around you, effectively trapping you in place. The other pulls a washcloth from the side of the tub, into the water with you. As much as you hate to admit it, the warm water feels nice against your sore muscles.

Sukuna is not a sentimental man. But with the way his hands trace across your skin, soft, lovingly, like he’s reading a book of braille, makes you think otherwise. He doesn't leer at the curves of your body like he normally does. His eyes scan across your body, looking for any sign of injury.

When he deems you clean enough, and your skin has turned a nice shade of pink from the hot water, he lets you go. You're the first to get out, drying yourself off. You never realized how cold the room was before.

He hauls you into his arms. You do little to protest, which worries him.

The King of Curses has no need for sleep. The bed mostly serves for asthetic purposes, though he's not opposed to fucking you across any flat surface, you seem to favor softer ones.

Much like the tub, his bed is large enough to fit several of you. You feel dwarfed by its size. The man is huge, he needs a bed to fit. You could sprawl out as wide as possible and never have any of your limbs hanging over the sides.

He follows you, silent.

He can't recall ever letting any of his pets share his bed before. Some have tried. Tried. He can't recall any of them surviving as long as you have, either. He finds himself irritated at the thought of anything bad ever happening to you.

He doesn't join you in bed.

He doesn't need sleep the same way humans do. He can, but if he were to decide not to, it would bring no harm to him. He used to never dream. It was something he did, back when he was human, but that time has long passed. But whenever he dreamed, he’d wake up next to you. Experiences like that made him realize just why humans like to sleep so much. Before he never woke up rested; he was never tired in the first place.

You shove the covers aside and crawl underneath. They smell like him. He snubs out the candle burning on the side table with his index finger and thumb. Though it's dark, there’s enough light in the room to make out his much-larger form.

You shiver, although sweat forms along your skin in a thin sheen. Sukuna knows it's not cold. He sits on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. The back of his hand presses to your forehead. You’re burning up.

You were warm before, but he thought it was because of the bath. He’s not really sure what to do. It's rare moments like these that he's forced to face your mortality. He knows you're fragile—compared to him—but he can't bear the thought of something bad happening to you.

One of his large hands moves to cup your cheek. It's just as warm as your forehead. The pad of his thumb runs across your cheekbone.

"Stay with me." You say. You stretch your arms out towards him, making grabbing motions with your hands.

You’re not one to beg. Even when faced with death, you look it straight in the eyes. Call it bravery, or lack of self preservation. He admired that about you. You ignored your mortality because it did not matter to you.

“What's the matter, pet?”

“I don't feel too good.” You say.

Though he doesn't say it, he can tell.

“I’ll get Uraume-”

“No,” your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him back towards your chest, “no. I’m okay.”

He settles down beside you in bed, on top of the covers. When he opens his arms, you go right into them. He makes sure to keep the blankets tucked around you. Sukuna runs warm naturally. You huddle close to him, trying to steal his warmth. Though your face feels abnormally warm, you shiver. His much larger body lays partially on top of yours, his head resting on your chest, ear pressed to your skin. He can hear your heartbeat. Steady, and alive. Something low in your chest rattles when you breathe.

He should get a servant to bring you water, or some tea. It occurs to him how little he knows about the mundane things humans do to make themselves feel better. Not that he ever needed to care. In all the years you’ve been by his side, he’s never seen anything like this happen. He can't decide, and instead calls for both. If you need medicine, he’ll get that too, but you don't seem to be at that point. Uraume knows more about humans than he does. He’s no doctor, but he’ll work. If he asks you, you’ll just say you’re fine.

He holds the cup up to you, beckoning you to drink. The glass is cold against your lips. Even as your hands wrap around it, he doesn't let it go. He sets the empty glass on the side table with a soft thunk.

His large hand smoothes over your head, brushing your hair out of your eyes. His nails feel nice against your scalp. Nothing about the man is soft, but when he’s left alone with you, moments like this are bound to happen. You allow yourself to be pet. The heat, combined with the weight of his body, threatens to lull you off to sleep. The ache in your joints keeps you from doing so.

When he kisses you, you taste like a curse.

[wolves-in-the-world]

I present: Quinn/Eliot (with ambiguous background ot3), except Quinn is a vampire and so was Moreau.

Involves: minor violence; slight kinkiness of the kind you might expect; no sex stuff beyond kissing; implications of past abuse. Also, potentially, ace vibes. Expect gentleness and absolutely no plot.

[2.4k, also on Ao3]

—

It's quietly known in certain circles, and suspected in many more, that Damien Moreau is a vampire. It's not the kind of thing people talk about, but the signs are all there: his skin always cool when you shake his hand; his charisma bordering on hypnosis when he's dealing with enemies and subordinates; the way he favours dark glasses and doesn't spend much time in the sun. (Sensitivity varies between individuals, yes, but it tends to get worse over time - avoidance of sunlight is a classic indication.) Even the way he dresses, if the stereotypes can be believed. Vampires maintain a certain image for a reason.

When Parker slips into his villa to explore and to loot, she makes notes of the layout, the odd design choices, the way the rooms with all those big windows can all be easily bypassed to reach anywhere important, the kitchen properly equipped and furnished but the cupboards almost bare. She'll share her suspicions with Nate, she decides, in case they need to make tweaks to his accommodations.

Of course, Eliot knows the truth of it better than anyone.

~

It takes him a while to find out about Quinn. He gets Eliot pinned on his front with his hand bunched up in Eliot's shirt and then just goes still, giving him the opportunity to get the upper hand again. When Eliot shoves him away and regains his feet, ready to rib him for it, Quinn's frowning at him like something's wrong.

"He bit you?"

His tone makes Eliot blink and reassess. He sounds almost incredulous.

(Quinn knows about Moreau, knows the team took him down. He's had half a mind to visit, because cells don't hold his kind very well and Moreau is just clever enough to bide his time and build power again if he ever gets out, but so far Quinn's held back to avoid stepping on the team's toes. And, frankly, because he hasn't had any jobs in the area.)

Eliot tugs his shirt back into place and glares at him. He doesn't maintain eye contact for long. "I did a lot worse to the people he sent me after."

Quinn waves a hand and rolls his eyes: well, obviously. His arms stay folded. "You were working for him."

At that Eliot has to scowl, because it sounds like Quinn's offended and that doesn't make any kind of sense. Sure, some people would look down on him for what he entered into, for being a world-class hitter and still letting that happen - but if this is what gets Quinn to think less of him, and his stomach's sinking at the thought of it, then there's not much he can do about that.

He keeps his face stony and pushes past Quinn to head for the changing rooms. He's had enough for today.

"I'd never treat someone like that," says Quinn, and Eliot stops to look back at him. Quinn's expression is serious: still frowning a little, eyes steady on Eliot. Like it's something that needs to be said. Like it's a thing he could actually do.

Eliot feels the reaction shiver through him, dissipating quickly as he gets a handle on himself. He hasn't thought of it as fear for years.

They've been meeting every few months since the dam job, to train or - once or twice - even work together. Eliot's enjoyed it, appreciated it, the chance to practise with a hitter of his calibre. He's been thinking it might be useful to pull Quinn in for team jobs sometimes, when his shoulder's acting up or they just need another body for the con. It's been hard to admit. Quinn being so easygoing made it easier.

And he's realising, suddenly, that he's never seen Quinn eat.

"Yeah, well," Eliot says, a beat too late to sound normal, "most people don't share your sense of ethics."

It's true enough, and Quinn says nothing as Eliot walks away. He doesn't enter the changing rooms until Eliot's clean and dressed and ready to leave, and by then Eliot's composed enough that he can chat and bicker like nothing's wrong. And it isn't, really. Quinn's been decent enough, and Eliot's not going to be a jackass.

~

The next time they work a job together, Eliot sees when instead of knocking someone out, Quinn pulls them round the corner and buries his face in their neck. Eliot yells "Quinn," and the body falls slack to the ground, and Quinn's head snaps up towards him. His lips are stained red, and his teeth are out. "I thought I told you I didn't want to be party to this."

"She's not dead," Quinn says, and raises a hand to cover his mouth. When he lowers it again, his lips are licked clean and the fangs are receding. "Giving people concussions isn't pretty either, Spencer."

Eliot grunts, not wanting to get into it, and satisfies himself with the fact that the guard is still pink-cheeked and breathing. It's a mild enough sedative at that small a dose - she won't be down for long. "You know how many women have low iron levels?" Eliot says, and it's a stupid thing to say, but it's something that isn't lingering on this.

"Yes," Quinn says patiently, "that's why I normally go for men. Relax, I know the rules. You want to lead the way or shall I?"

~

The first time Eliot really bleeds in front of Quinn, more than just a bruise or a graze, he's cooking in the brewpub kitchen after closing. It's the first time they've used Quinn for a job, not including the dam thing - the first time they've run a proper job since Sophie and Nate left. All considered, it went pretty smoothly. They'll have to avoid letting Parker and Quinn work together too much - the new taser Hardison made for her has cut down on messier incidents, but it's not like she needs the encouragement - but he thinks it's going to work out.

He's not even all that surprised that Quinn wants a taste of what he's cooking. Damien would eat sometimes, too, though mostly he only bothered with wine: more often whites when it was just himself, but always reds when he had a point to make. He liked the way people would look at the glass when he was drinking. He liked the effect it had on them.

And maybe it was a bad idea to let himself think about that, because Eliot's mind is years in the past when he senses the body behind his right shoulder and whirls around, knife in hand, the fumble-and-catch too quick and smooth for him to even register the pain.

"Shit," says Quinn, frowning at Eliot's hand. He's shifted half a step back, and his own hands are in view, and he doesn't look dangerous, but Eliot's ready all the same. He knows how Quinn fights, and he knows vampires, and he can handle this if he has to.

"You should get that under the faucet," says Quinn, and a little of the tension eases from Eliot's shoulders.

"I know what to do with a damn cut," he snaps, turning for the sink. Behind him, he can hear Quinn moving, but he doesn't come any closer. "You should go. I'll dish some up for you with the others' when it's ready."

"I'm a hitter, Eliot." Quinn sets the first-aid kit on the side, opening it, and casts Eliot a level look. There's a touch of amusement in his slight smile. "And I'm insulted. Want me to get one of the others instead?"

"No," Eliot says quickly, because Hardison's squeamish and Parker's getting better (if not particularly gentler) but he doesn't want to explain this little hiccup until he has to. And it is an annoyingly placed cut. He could dress it himself - has done in the past - but it'll go much easier with help.

"Fine," he growls, turning off the tap with his elbow and letting Quinn shift closer. Quinn takes his wrist and surveys the damage. "But keep it in your gums. If you bite me, I'm biting back."

"Don't threaten me with a good time," Quinn says absently, reaching for the gauze.

~

The first time Eliot pulls Quinn against him in the flush of victory after a job well done, backing up until he hits a wall and Quinn presses him readily against it, he kisses up along Quinn's neck and jaw and Quinn just stays close against him, nose tucked briefly into Eliot's hair.

Eliot breaks off and draws back, still pressed against him, still grasping his arm. "Do you want this?"

"Yes," Quinn says, his expression guarded.

"But?"

"I'm not sure what you want."

Eliot hesitates, trying to work his way to what this situation needs. He wants to make it a joke and pull Quinn in for a kiss, dismiss this attempt at a conversation, but that doesn't seem fair. "This... isn't just a bit of fun for me."

"I know that."

"Then what-"

"I just want to make sure," Quinn says with visibly fraying patience, "we only do what you want to do."

Oh. Huh. That's... pretty irritating, actually. He has a sneaking suspicion the implications would be dizzying if he had more space to think about it. As it is, proximity makes it simple. "I want to kiss you." His voice comes out rough. He tangles his fingers into Quinn's hair, dislodging the hair tie, and Quinn draws in to meet him. "No teeth," Eliot murmurs, when they're only an inch apart.

And Quinn kisses him, perfectly well-behaved, at least until Eliot deepens it and they both get a bit distracted.

~

It's not all easy. For one thing, in the interests of openness with his family and his team knowing all the variables, he has to fill them in - only to find out that Hardison already knew (some old security footage in which Quinn hadn't quite been careful enough) and Parker had already been confided in. It leaves Eliot a little flustered, that he worked himself up to this for nothing.

"Well, I mean, I won't say we weren't worried," says Hardison, "but if this is something you want to do-" and Eliot can see him forging on past the innuendo possibilities there, damn him "-you should."

"And if he tries anything," Parker says, landing her fist in her other palm, "I'll beat him up for you."

It's all very matter-of-fact, and very sweet and very them, and Eliot's dying a little inside. Parker pats his hip on the way past, smiling sunnily at him, and Hardison swoops in to kiss his cheek. Eliot's left growling at an empty room, which even he can admit is a bit much. He sighs, shoulders dropping, then he goes to find Quinn.

~

Several months have passed since that conversation. Quinn's lying on the sofa at Eliot's apartment - not quite a safehouse by their standards, but safe enough all the same - and Eliot's straddling him, kissing him soundly and taking his time. It's a leisurely thing, neither of them with anywhere to be except here with each other. There's a flush in Quinn's cheeks from last night's job and accompanying snack, and Eliot's enjoying watching it darken.

"You can bite me if you want," Eliot murmurs against his mouth. It's something they've talked about. It isn't something they've done yet.

Quinn shivers beneath him and Eliot frowns at it, forgetting for a moment that he doesn't feel the cold. He's shifting his weight back to grab the blanket from the back of the sofa when Quinn pulls him down and kisses him again, catching Eliot's lip between his teeth, letting him feel the blunt tips of his human fangs. Eliot doesn't expect they'll stay blunt for long.

"Make me," Quinn murmurs, and nips at him again before pushing him away.

Eliot wasn't expecting a fight today - he's still bruised from a run in with some unexpectedly well-trained security - but it's possible Quinn goes easy on him. Very possible that neither of them are treating it like a proper sparring bout. It's a cursing, then a tussling, then Eliot getting Quinn pinned at least momentarily with an arm against his neck.

"Want to keep going?" Eliot says, a little more breathless than this short scuffle calls for.

Quinn raises an eyebrow at him. "Well, if you'd rather fight instead..."

Eliot moves his arm to offer him his wrist, and Quinn gives a very smug smile, straightening up as Eliot eases off him. Eliot runs his fingers through Quinn's curls as a distraction from the bite.

The sedative effect won't knock him out, not with his acquired resistance, but it warms him through like he's been drinking and leaves him a little boneless. His hand slips down to Quinn's shoulder as the feeling spreads through him, his eyes half-closed. It's not a feeling you ever forget. It's not a feeling Eliot had expected - or hoped - to feel again. But here, with the smells of Quinn and home, with the months of sparring and learning to feel safe enough to sleep around each other, it's okay. It's quite a bit more than okay.

Quinn kisses Eliot's forehead when he's done, teeth bumping against his skin, and tugs Eliot down to settle with him on the floor. The first thing Eliot stirs enough to do is pull him in and kiss him clumsily, tracing the sharp tips of Quinn's teeth with his tongue. He withdraws just a little at the faint tang of metal.

The second thing he does is call Quinn a jackass for playing dirty. From the satisfied look on Quinn's face, it's not a tactic he particularly regrets.

~

For another thing that makes this a little less than easy, Quinn's gotten more intense about the Moreau situation. It's simple: Eliot doesn't want Quinn to have that blood on his hands (a phrasing he only uses once, because it makes Quinn laugh until he actually cries a little) and Quinn doesn't want him to think that Moreau might possibly get out one day. It's an impasse. Regrettably, one of them is human and theoretically falls prey to things like flu, and the other is more than willing to wait for that opportunity to go tidy up this particular loose end.

Eliot isn't a fool though, so he sets out contingencies and calls in help. If Quinn ever tries it, Parker and Hardison will be ready to catch and stop him, and they're just the start of it. Quinn's looking forward to it. He doesn't get challenges often.

Besides, he can be patient. He's pretty sure he'll convince them some day.

[a short epilogue]

[teacupcollector]

I Tolerate You... (Sherlock x Reader

Main Masterlist

Fluff Promptlist

Summary - Ever since meeting Sherlock everything seemed to be to be going great. Your life was spiraling upwards but so is your feelings for the great detective. When Molly’s jealous words get the better of you. Your insecurity seems to push Sherlock more in your direction causing another stepping stone to some thing greater and something more then just a friendship. Anon Requested: 7 and 27 from the Fluff Promptlist

Ever since John moved out you have taken his place. You are now tasked on going everywhere with Sherlock but you don’t mind. Problem is, is the slight age difference. He didn’t get your humor especially the slang that you use on a daily bases since you went back to college. 

You dropped out at 20 but now a few years later here you are again. Sherlock was really good when it came to certain assignments, like chemistry, or math but that isn’t the only thing he is good at. He has a great mind and sometimes it is hard to keep up. Unlike John he took time to explain his thought process to you. You didn’t know why though you weren’t anything special. Just a college student who has to much time on their hands. Mycroft seemed to think the same for a time. Yet he has never seen Sherlock treat any other woman this way. Mycroft is the only one who can see how taboo this partnership is/can be. He could tell that Sherlock had no idea of your affections and vise-versa/ There is a good 10 years between you but the chemistry between the two of you is strong. Mycroft decided to give you a chance. He had many tea meetings with you when Sherlock was out. He confronted you on your feelings which you proceeded to deny but once he swore to secrecy you began to spill the beans. “I mean I don’t know if what I feel exactly is “love” but I know I feel strongly for him...”  Mycroft sat and listened before asking. “What made these feelings come about?” This caused you to pause. “I know everyone says this but he really is brilliant, but I don’t want him for that reason.” You pause again trying to gather your thoughts. “He is very... I don’t know the term... accommodating? Sweet maybe? He doesn’t make me feel bad about myself.” You say dragging your thumb along the rim of your cup. “He doesn’t make me feel like a college drop out though I know he deduced it from the start he didn’t point it out... And you know Sherlock he will take any opportunity to show his brilliance.” Mycroft looks at you before saying. “What stops you from pursuing him?” He asks and you shrug. “I am to young for him... I am 24 about to turn 25 and he is in his mid-thirties.” You let out a sigh. “And I know I am way to childish for him. He would probably want someone more his age...” You say. Mycroft begins to interject but you continue to speak. “I mean. He must have deduced that I liked him... He just doesn’t want to say anything. I don’t blame him though. I would rather be here and stay his friend then not be here and lose what we have...” Mycrofts eyes seem to widen. “You really care for him don’t you...” You nod. 

“Yeah... Honestly I don’t know if I would still be here if it wasn’t for him. He showed me that set backs don’t determine what a great mind can do.” You look up at Mycroft “ In Sherlocks case it may be social cues or understanding certain emotion. For me?” You set the tea cup down and place your hands in your lap. “For me it is my lack of motivation... He gives me that motivation. He inspired me to go back to college. I dropped out when I was 20. I was 23 when I met him and here I am nearly 25 and I am already at the top of my class.”  Mycroft shifts slightly. “That is truely inspiring (Y/N). I am glad my brother has done some good but I will say he can be quite oblivious.” Mycroft stands up grabbing his umbrella and hanging it over his wrist. “That may work out in your favor because so far I believe he hasn’t caught on to your affections.”  He walks over to the main door and turns back to you. “If something does become of you... You have my blessing.” He says with a nod before exiting. You feel heat come to your cheeks when you hear the door in the floor bellow slam shut.

As of right now you are sitting in front of him as he looks through his microscope in the morgue lab thing. He was spewing some facts on a current case when he notices that you weren’t adding anything to the conversation. He looks up at you and you just continue to stare. “Has my excellence rendered you speechless?” He asks with a smug look on his face and you groan. “No dude you have fuzz in your hair.” You say and lean over and pretend to remove something from his hair. In reality you just wanted to run your hair through his magnificent curls. “Why do you insist on calling me dude? You sound more American by the day.” He says and you laugh. “I am American dipshit.” Sherlock only rolls his eyes. “And insanely vulgar as usual (Y/N)...” “Just admit it! You are so in love with me.” You say. This causes you to let out another ugly belly laugh. If your eyes weren’t closed you would have noticed Sherlock’s slight smile before he continued with his work while you continue your math homework. Suddenly the door opens to see Molly who you have come acquainted with, yet she seems a little standoffish. You feel her look between the two of you. “Hey Molly!” You say and she gives a strained yet polite “Hi.” You continue your work. “You know a lab is no place to do college work.” Molly says as she walks up next to Sherlock. He doesn’t look up from his work but he says. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you Molly...” He says in his regular monotone voice. You both look shocked. “Why would I be jealous of her!” Molly exclaims. “She is just some college student! She’s ju-” “She is just a woman who receives most of my attention.” He says turning toward her  “That is what makes you jealous Molly and your vibe is off putting now please.” He waves her off and Molly has a shocked look but she quickly rushes off while saying “You are even using her terminology...” Sherlock goes back to writing his notes when you speak up. “She is right you know... I am just a college student.” You say fiddling with your pencil. Sherlock pauses and looks up again. “Like... I don’t understand why you chose me as your partner in solving crime...” You say and begin packing your things. “You are feeling insecure. You shouldn’t let things people say get to you.” You pause in your packing and look up at him. Sherlock stands up and moves around the table and stands in front of you.

“I can’t really help it Sherlock... I mean why should she be jealous. She is a beautiful woman who is way closer to your age a-” “Why would your age affect how I feel?” He asks looking down at you. You have yet to meet his eye. “And what do you feel Sherlock? I am just some college drop out looking for redemption...I am nothing special...” You feel Sherlock place a hand on your shoulder. “Plus you don’t feel anything. Well for me at least. You always said sentiment was a weakness... And you also sa-” “I know what I say (Y/N)!” He exclaims causing you to jump and look up at him. “Sentiment is a weakness.” He says and your face falls. “It’s a feeling and I am not use to it. I’m not use to you.” You look confused and go to say something but he covers your mouth. “Let me speak... I am not good with words and I need to get this out.” He says and uncovers your mouth. He places both hands on your shoulders and sighs. “I am not use to you as in... I am not use to the feelings you give me... I... I don’t know the feeling it’s just.” He pauses for a moment and paces away from you his back facing you. “I know... I feel... I… I tolerate you… That is the only way I can describe it. I know it isn’t the chemical imbalance of love at least... at least not yet but I-” “I love you too Sherlock...” Sherlock's posture straightens as he turns around. You walk up to him and smile. “I know you don’t understand it yet and you don’t have to say it back but... I will be here waiting for when you are ready.” You say and he nods. “Thank you (Y/N)...” He leans down and kisses your temple. “I really... I really appreciate that.” Your face was beet red which caused a smirk to come over his face but overall this was the best moment you will probably have your entire life. It is sad that someone was there watching you waiting to ruin it.

[neonlights92]

RUN: Chapter I

Jeon Jungkook hops from bed to bed, sleeping with as many beautiful, rich women as he can possibly find time for.  He’s young and attractive, with a silver tongue that gets him practically anything he wants.  So when his friend and boss, Kim Taehyung, tells him it’s time to settle down, Jungkook takes it pretty badly.  And when he finds out that the woman he’s destined to marry is, in fact, his little sister’s best friend, he is less than impressed.

You have spent your entire life trying to forget the way you feel about Jeon Jungkook.   So when you find out that Jungkook is to be your husband - and that he is anything but pleased about it - your world is thrown into chaos.  How can you survive a loveless marriage with the man you are hopelessly in love with?

WARNINGS: Language, some violence and eventual smut.

A/N: I changed Jungkook’s story slightly from my original story.  Hope you guys like it!!! Enjoy :)

You were in love with Jeon Jungkook. 

You had been in love with him, since the moment you understood what it truly meant to love someone. 

The engagement party was in full swing - people chattered around you happily, congratulating the supposedly happy couple - but all your attention was on him.

You watched him from across the expanse of people wedged between you both.  He leaned against the stone wall, observing, as he always did.  Arms crossed, dark eyes narrowed.  

You knew you probably shouldn’t watch him for long - that if he felt your gaze on him he would add it to the long list of reasons why he’d probably noticed you were in love with him years ago.  But you couldn’t help yourself.  He looked so handsome - so inviting - and you swore at yourself for still holding a candle to someone who didn’t see you as much more than an accomplice to his little sister.

Your best friend Nayeon had been born only a year after Jungkook, but sometimes it felt like he would treat her - and by association you - as a child forever.

“Stop staring,” Nayeon had sidled up beside you, a flute of champagne clutched in her hands, “You’re making it so obvious.”

You rolled your eyes, “You mean twenty three years of following him around like a puppy hasn’t been proof enough?”

She sighed heavily and slipped an arm through your own.  Nayeon had known about your unfortunate feelings for her brother for a long time.  Unfortunate because, really, in what world would your love ever be reciprocated?

Not only had you been relegated to little sister status long ago - but Jungkook was so handsome he could have any woman he wanted. 

It was well known that Jungkook was Bangtan’s resident playboy.  He’d made no effort to settle down in the years since turning a ‘marriage-appropriate’ age, and had done just about the opposite.  Flitting from woman to woman  (and coincidentally bed to bed) with an easy smile and eyes that could warm the hardest of hearts.

Eventually, of course, he would be forced to settle down.  Not only was he an important member of Bangtan - he was in the capo’s inner circle.  Soon Taehyung would choose a wife for him whether he wanted it or not.  Because Jungkook needed to produce heirs - it was what had always been expected of a made man.

“I’ve told you to talk to your father,” Nayeon’s voice was sympathetic, “Our families are such good friends - maybe the two of you could get married.”

You felt your chest pinch at Nayeon’s suggestion.  She was right, she had been telling you this for years.  But you knew that speaking to your father wouldn’t change anything.  Had told her just as much.

“Taehyung will choose his wife Nae, you know this just as well as I do.”

Her eyes softened and you felt yourself grow tired again.  Your feelings for him were exhausting sometimes.

“Talk to Taehyung then.  Your family is well-respected, Y/N.  It wouldn’t be a downgrade.”  

You scoffed, “For Bangtan’s golden boy?  C’mon Nae.  Let’s not start this again.  I’m not in the mood for it.”

Your eyes moved towards Jungkook once more, but they widened slightly when you realised he wasn’t there anymore.  Probably off flirting with some beautiful woman… 

Your heart clenched in jealousy as it always did when you imagined Jungkook with someone else.  

“Looking for me?” 

There it was.  His voice.  

You turned sharply, eyes lifting to connect with his own.  Jungkook’s face was unreadable as he stared down at you - and you wondered for a moment, if he was angry with you.

“What?” The word escaped you, “Uh… No.  No.  Just enjoying the party.”

Nayeon’s arm had slipped out of yours at some point.

His expression was dark and you felt like perhaps he was glaring at you.  Glaring?  Why would he be glaring?  Your chest tightened.

“You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

The words sounded venomous, almost.  You felt confused.

“What?”

Jungkook quirked a dark brow, “Playing dumb doesn’t suit you, Y/N.”

Nayeon cleared her throat noisily and stepped between the two of you.  You were grateful for her presence.  Jungkook had never spoken to you like that.  Almost as if… He hated you.

It was so much worse than the way he usually treated you - like a little sister he begrudgingly liked.  What had you done to deserve this treatment?

“What is going on, Jungkook?” Nayeon’s voice held a note of warning.

His gaze snapped up to meet hers and he scowled, “This hasn’t got anything to do with you.”

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Nayeon growled back, eyes narrowed harshly, “Y/N is my best friend and you, regrettably, are my brother.”

“Why don’t you ask your best friend, then?” He spat the words out almost viciously, “Ask her why I got called into a meeting with Taehyung, our father and her father, this morning.”

Your heart felt like it was going to fall out of your throat. 

“What?”  Your voice was quiet - little more than a whisper.

Jungkook’s eyes shifted for a moment and he softened - before his face became that impassive mask again.  It was the Jungkook of Bangtan that stood before you.  Not your Jungkook.

Not the Jungkook that used to pull on your hair when it got too long, or the Jungkook that taught you how to swim.  This Jungkook was scary, unpredictable even.

“I suppose I should welcome you to the family,” His voice had lost all of it’s anger - it was just cold now, “Mrs Jeon.”

Your heart stopped.

“I….”

“What are you talking about, Jungkook?” Nayeon interrupted and though you wanted to look at her, your eyes seemed incapable of moving away from Jungkook’s.

He wasn’t glaring at you anymore, thank god, but now his face was just blank - unmoving.  You recognised that look from your own father’s face.  Long ago you’d dubbed it the Bangtan face.  The way coldness seemed to freeze over any warmth.  It frightened you more than any anger could.

“I’m marrying her,” He said, emotionless.  Like a robot, “At the earliest opportunity, apparently.”  His eyes flickered for a moment, and you thought you saw something gentle, in them.  But it was soon replaced by that same, cold indifference.

“Me?” You squeaked, heart thundering in your ears.  

Nayeon was silent.  It was the first time in a long time that something had left her truly speechless, you reckoned.

When Jungkook nodded, once, sharply, your insides twisted.

“I’m sorry,” You felt the tears burning, but you refused to let them fall, “I didn’t… I never asked for this.  I swear, I had no idea.”

The conversation you’d had with Nayeon just moments ago flashed through your mind.  It was so ironic you almost wanted to laugh.

“Your feelings for me have become… Increasingly clear in the last few years.”  Jungkook’s tone wasn’t cruel, but you felt the chill in it, “I suppose your father realised, as did mine.  Taehyung has been wanting to marry me off for years, so he was only happy to accommodate.”

On the last word, you flinched.

Accommodate.  Like you were a burden being handed to him.

“I’m sorry,” You repeated, although you weren’t entirely sure what you were apologising for.  Was it your inability to keep your feelings under check?  Should you really feel sorry for something you couldn’t really control?

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” Nayeon had seemed to regain some of her sense, “You know how this world works. She didn’t choose this, Jungkook.”

But you could see that he blamed you.

And in some ways you understood.  It was your clear feelings for him that had caused a matrimony that he didn’t want.  Jungkook valued his independence, his freedom.  He’d told Nayeon and yourself time and time again that he would try to delay his getting married as much as he could.  Another twenty years, at least. 

And now he was saddled with you. 

You had taken away that freedom he treasured so dearly, without even meaning to. 

“No I didn’t choose this but I am sorry,” You felt like you might crumble to dust under Jungkook’s stare, “I shouldn’t have made my feelings so clear.”

The words were difficult to say - was it really your fault that you loved him? - but they seemed to do the job.  Jungkook’s shoulders relaxed and his face softened.

“So you didn’t ask for this?”

You shook your head once, rigidly.  

“Then I’m sorry for getting angry,” He said gently, his eyes roving your face carefully.  He was doing that thing he always did - he was trying to read you - the same way he read everyone.

But you were like a book to him, weren’t you?  So open.  So obvious. So easy to read.  He barely needed to try.

Jungkook had never made it as clear as he had right now, that he knew you were in love with him.  You supposed you should be embarrassed - and you were, to a degree.  But some part of you, a much larger part, just felt sorry.

“And I’m sorry you had to find out like this.”  He added, hands moving towards the pockets of the trousers he was wearing, “But in a month’s time, you will be Mrs Jeon Jungkook.” A month? You felt sick - like you might throw up.

This was all you’d ever dreamed of… But you didn’t want it like this.  Forced and angry.  You wanted love and passion and affection.  Things you knew Jungkook didn’t feel for you.

Things you’d always worried he’d never feel for you.

You were content watching him from a distance but now?  Now he was up close and personal, and you could barely meet his eyes.

Without another word, Jungkook slipped away from you, probably off to find some kind of alcohol to drown himself in.  In one month you would be Mrs Jeon Jungkook…

“Oh Y/N.” Nayeon’s voice caught, and suddenly you realised you had started crying.

The man you loved probably hated you now and in a month you would become his wife.  Any hope of Jungkook reciprocating your feelings for him disappeared.

It was all one big, scary mess.

//

You hadn’t spoken to Jungkook since the night he had told you about your upcoming nuptials.  From the little information Nayeon had been able to gather, he wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of having to marry you.

“He’ll come around,” She told you time and time again.  But you could barely bring yourself to believe her.

It had been years of loving him.  Years of watching him from far away and never being able to call him yours.  Why would that change now?

How could it change when he probably despised you for this wedding?

You couldn’t bring yourself to hope for anything more than civility.  Anything else would break your heart.

Everything about the wedding had been decided for you.  Down to even the dress.  You had tried things on, a mannequin for the women of your family and the Jeon family.  Your mother had tried encouraging you to enjoy yourself, as had Nayeon, but nothing seemed to work.

“I’ll be married in a week,” Your stomach twisted, “And Jungkook hasn’t even looked at me since that night.”

“He’s just getting used to the idea Y/N.” Nayeon tried to convince you but it was as futile and pointless as ever.

“He hates me.”

“No he doesn’t. It’s Jungkook.”

You felt your heart pull uncomfortably. It was Jungkook. You wanted so badly for him to be yours - had spent years and months and hours thinking about it. And yet….

That would never happen.

Nayeon was helping you wrap up the wedding favours. Another thing you’d had no part in choosing. Jungkook’s mother had ordered bracelets for the women and cuffs for the men.

“Don’t you have someone else to do this?” Nayeon fiddled with the baby blue crepe paper, “I’m so bad at this.”

“I asked to do this.” You shrugged, “It was the only thing my mother trusted me with. I wanted to feel somewhat useful.”

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Any hope of magic for your special day had been obliterated the moment Jungkook had confronted you. He would never accept this marriage as anything other than something he’d been forced into.

And he would probably always blame you for it.

“It’s alright,” You cleared your throat of the thick tears threatening to spill, “I never expected to choose anything for my own wedding anyway.”

“Still.  This is meant to be exciting.” You laughed and it caught in your chest, sounding suspiciously like a sob.

“I’m marrying the love of my life and yet… I’m miserable,” You shook your head, “Only Bangtan could be capable of causing something like this.” Nayeon opened her mouth - maybe to tell you that her brother would come around - when a knock at the door stopped her.

“Yes?” You answered quietly, half expecting it to be your mother with yet another ridiculous demand.

The portal opened and revealed your husband to be - Jeon Jungkook - looking decidedly sheepish as his eyes met your own.

Sheepish?  Jungkook?  It couldn’t be.

“Your maid… Jennie.  She let me in.”

You nodded and felt the questioning gaze of Nayeon flicker between both you and Jungkook.  What was he doing here? You were curious, too.

“Could I… Nayeon…Could I talk to Y/N for a minute?  Alone?”

Nayeon curled her top lip, “You’re not going to be an asshole to her again, are you?”

When Jungkook gave her a look that could freeze hell over Nayeon merely shrugged. Though they’d grown up in Bangtan - and though Jungkook was as dangerous as they come - Nayeon and him still shared a relatively normal sibling dynamic.

They were both stubborn of course, with tempers that could rival even the scariest Bangtan member…. But they loved each other.

And they were fiercely loyal. A Jeon trait, you’d come to learn.

“Just five minutes okay? Then you can continue to be a pain in the ass,” Jungkook glared at his sister as Nayeon stood, eyes narrowed.

“I’ll be just next door Y/N. Scream if he pisses you off.”

She patted your hand, face still scowling at her brother.  He flipped her off before she pulled a face, sliding out of the room with a quiet click of the door.  When you were alone with Jungkook, your heart felt like it was going to crawl out of your mouth.

His eyes were almost warm as he turned to you again.

“Y/N I wanted to… Apologise, for my behaviour at the party earlier this month,” He seemed genuinely sorry, “And for…” He trailed off before clearing his throat again, “And for ignoring you, the last few weeks.  This marriage has been difficult for me to process.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak.

“But I wanted to come here and tell you that… If we’re getting married to one another, then I suppose we should try to get along for the sake of our own sanity.”  He stepped towards you and almost looked like he wanted to touch you, but thought better of it, “But that doesn’t - I don’t…” He paused and you noticed his eyes seemed almost sad, “I know how you feel about me, Y/N.  But I can’t… Promise anything.  I’ll be kind to you like I’ve always been.  And we might grow closer because of this marriage but… That’s all I can offer.” 

You knew what he was saying.

He was happy to be your friend.  Maybe to even warm your bed at night.

But Jungkook would never love you as you loved him.

You nodded, mutely, feeling that if you said a word you might break down in tears.  And you refused to let him see you that way, no matter how much your heart ached.

“I don’t want you to resent me, Y/N.  But I’m not… I’m not a man of commitment.  You understand, don’t you?” You almost laughed in his face.

He wasn’t a man of commitment? Jeon Jungkook spent every day of his life committed to the cause of Bangtan.  He was willing to fight for it.  To die for it.

It wasn’t commitment he didn’t want - it was you.

He didn’t have to lie to try and placate you.  You were a big girl.  Stronger than he took you for.

“You will never love me as I love you.”  You said, voice hollow, “Is that what you’re trying to say Jungkook?”

He winced, “I’m sorry.”

The words hurt you more than if he’d slapped you across the face. He was sorry? 

“Please don’t apologise,” Your chest twinged, “There’s nothing to feel sorry for.” The way he was looking at you made everything a million times worse.  You felt like a glass vase, teetering off the edge, about ready to shatter into a thousand pieces.

After a moment you cleared your throat, “How long?”

He raised a dark brow, “What?” “How long have you known about my… Um… Feelings for you.”

Jungkook shifted, clearly uncomfortable, but you decided you didn’t really care.  If you were going to spend the rest of your life committed to a man that didn’t want you, the least he could do is give you this much.

“Since your sixteenth birthday party.”

The memory seared your heart and your stomach fluttered.  Even thinking of it now, almost ten years later, caused something indescribable to pass through you. 

It had been a summer’s evening - you were born in late August.

Your mother had planned this overly flamboyant affair (she had a flair for the dramatics, clearly) and though you hadn’t wanted to attend, you’d done so anyway, not wanting to upset her after all her hard work.

And of course, she’d invited all the girls from Bangtan’s most powerful families including your arch nemesis at the time - Jihyo. 

Jihyo was as beautiful as she was mean, and though she was a little older than you were she never passed up the opportunity to humiliate you.  Your birthday was no different.

When you’d turned up in that ridiculous excuse of a dress - a frilly, pink puff pastry of a thing - Jihyo had spent all evening making fun of you in corners, and whispering cruel things behind your back.

Nayeon had threatened to bite her nose off but the both of you knew she was untouchable.  Jihyo was the Taehyung’s father’s niece.  She moved around the room like she owned it (and in a way she did) and it wasn’t until she made a comment about the angle of your mouth that Jungkook had stepped towards you and taken your hand.

Of course, Jihyo seethed with anger and jealousy all night. 

All the Bangtan girls wanted just a little of Jungkook’s attention - but he spent all evening treating you like a princess.  He laughed at your jokes, and danced with you, and even tucked your curls behind your ears. 

And you knew it was only because Jihyo was a bully and Nayeon was his little sister so you were too, in a way, but it didn’t really matter.  Because that evening it was like he’d plucked the moon right out of the sky and placed it in your pocket.

That was how special you’d felt.

And that was the Jungkook you fell in love with.

You nodded,  once, sharply and then took a deep, calming breath.

“You don’t have to worry, okay?”  Your voice was shaking but you forced yourself to move past it, “I won’t let my feelings for you get in the way of things.  Ever.  I know what this marriage means to you.”

For a moment - just one moment - it seemed like something close to regret flashed past Jungkook’s eyes.  But it was gone before you were even sure you’d seen it.

“Thank you, Y/N.”  He bowed gently and you tried to smile.

It was only later on, when Nayeon came back with a cup of chamomile to calm your nerves, and a sympathetic smile to stroke your pain, that you finally gave way to the tears that had threatened to spill since Jungkook’s arrival.

This was all a fucking mess.

//

[rwprincess]

Midnight Sun'd Prologue (Brian Johnson x Fem!Reader)

Masterlist

Word Count: 10.5K (She like...20 pages long. Sorry).

Synopsis: My movie/Canon Prologue, but from Brian’s POV. That’s right, I’m Midnight Sun-ing this b*tch.

CW: Underage marijuana smoking, suicidal ideation, self-deprecating thoughts/self-doubt, low self-esteem, swearing, child abuse, parents being terrible, sexuality (since this is based on the movie, nothing is really outside the scope of the movie in terms of content).

Saturday, March 24th, 1984

Shermer High School, Shermer Illinois

Brian knew why he was here. In fact, he thanked his lucky stars that Saturday school, or detention, rather, had been his punishment. If this hadn’t been an extremely out-of-character first offense for him, he surely would have been suspended, or even expelled. His family had made their disappointment clear, especially when his mother told him to find a way to study and make amends today, even if he was asked to just sit in a room with strangers and reflect on what he did. When he arrived in the library, he was surprised to see Claire Standish already sitting there. She, of course, did not look up or make eye contact with him, but he chose to sit at the table behind her nonetheless. Before he could gather the courage to ask her what a popular, polished girl like herself could possibly be doing here, another two figures approached the doorway. Andrew Clark’s large, stocky frame loomed there for a moment before excitedly spying Claire. Again, no attempt was made to include Brian; he was practically invisible at this school, which was a big part of his underlying problems and self esteem here at Shermer High. It wasn’t so much that Brian wanted or needed popular people like Claire or Andrew to notice him. He didn’t really look up to them or desire their attention. It was just that, sometimes, it felt like everyone looked through him, as though he wasn’t even there. Adults acknowledged him, sure. He was polite and an overachiever, the perfect student. But his peers didn’t take much stock in him. He had a few loyal, true friends, but rarely did anyone outside of his particular interest groups reach out to him.

As Brian settled into a seat behind Claire, he took note of the second figure who had entered, the one who came in shortly after Andrew. It was her. Brian had to restrain himself from gawking when she entered the library, as she was one of the absolute last people he could ever picture earning a detention. Brian knew her from his English class last year; he had been stunned by her beauty the moment she entered the room that first day of high school and felt the same nervous, heart-pounding sensation he felt now, seeing her enter the library. He lamentably had zero classes with her this year, but he would see her in the hallways sometimes and that old familiar feeling would come rushing back to him, reminding him of the crush he had on her all last year. Back then, he had sat behind her, across the room and would catch himself staring at her or admiring her answers and volunteered opinions. His strong suit was in the more concrete subjects: science, math, that sort of thing. So the insightful analyses she would give always impressed him, and through them he got the sense that she was smart but also kind. This was precisely why he was shocked to see her here now, having earned the same consequence he had for bringing a weapon into school. But he couldn’t imagine her doing anything like that, anything to warrant this. He not-so-discreetly watched her as she hurried across the room and took a seat in the front row opposite to him. She, like Claire and Andrew, had not made eye contact or acknowledged him. Her seeing right through him hurt more, though.

Brian had sat down, but had not quite unpacked as he was still reeling from the revelation of Y/N being in the same detention as him, and that meant he would be in the same room as her for nine hours. He hadn’t even noticed John Bender stalk into the library, surveying the landscape that he was clearly king of. That is, until Bender stopped in front of him and snapped his fingers to get his attention and indicated for him to move out of his seat. Even if Brian weren’t the type to try to accommodate someone, a people pleaser, he would have followed John Bender’s instructions. Everyone in school knew of his reputation, and while some things were probably a lie (like throwing flaming toilet paper over Mrs. Applebaum’s house), some were definitely true, including his penchant for getting into fights. Brian had never had to fight someone before and he was pretty sure he lacked the capability to do so. Simply put: he would get his ass kicked. So he got up immediately and moved to the next seat over...right behind Y/N. He noticed that she stiffened, sat up straighter, as he slid into the seat behind her. So she had noticed his existence. But from her body language, he assumed that she didn’t particularly enjoy his presence. ‘Great. Perfect way to start this whole shitty day,’ he thought. At one point, Brian would have fancied himself an optimist, but lately that attitude was all but gone...not that his current situation helped much.

He also noticed the girl with black clothes, heavy makeup, and messy hair quickly walk along the outside of the tables and sit behind him, facing away from not only himself, but the entire group. He raised his eyebrows in disbelief, ‘Should be an interesting time,’ he thought while taking stock of her, Bender, the populars, and...Y/N. It still puzzled him that she could be here. Bender made total sense. Everyone knew that he practically lived here in detention. Based on how she looked and seemed to make herself comfortable, Brian guessed that the girl behind him also was a regular here. While he didn’t exactly expect Claire or Andy to be here, he wasn’t hugely shocked by it. Claire probably skipped school or was rude to a teacher or something and Andrew was an asshole anyway. He fit into the jock stereotype pretty well, all brawn and no brains, picking on those that he saw as weaker than him. Maybe that’s why he was here.

Vice Principal Vernon walked haughtily in, looking down on each and every one of them; a lord surveying his fiefdom. Brian’s posture stiffened as he both tried to show respect and unconsciously showed his fear of the man. The last conversation with him had also involved his parents and that was abhorrent, a total disaster. The recollection of the event made him nauseous. Right after he spoke, Claire raised her hand, “Excuse me sir, I think there’s been a mistake. I know it’s detention, but, um...I don’t think I belong in here.” Internally, Brian rolled his eyes. He didn’t really know Claire (he suspected that no one really truly did), but he had always been under the impression that she was full of herself. All of the popular clique seemed to be that way, just full of arrogance. And here she was announcing how she was better than all of them in front of them. Vernon completely ignored her statement and told them it was 7:06, on the dot. Brian quickly looked down at his watch and aligned it to Vernon’s time. He was very particular about organization and precision.

As Vernon started his speech about rules, Brian tried to shift slightly over, get comfortable. But Vernon looked right into him and Brian could swear he saw into the depths of his soul as he said, “You will not move from these seats,” and pointed right at him. He froze like a deer in the headlights and quickly moved back. Brian had almost always blindly followed authority and now was definitely not the time to change that. Vernon continued and Brian only half-listened, looking around to gauge how the rest of the group was reacting, until he heard him say, “Good. So, maybe you’ll decide whether or not you care to return-” He saw this as the perfect time to redeem himself and started to stand up, raising his hand.

“Um, you know, I can answer that right now, sir. And that would be a no for me-”

“Sit down, Johnson.”

“Thank you, sir.” Brian sat back down, gulping. His embarrassment was only made worse noticing that Y/N had turned around to look at him when he started speaking. He wasn’t so invisible now, just his luck.

*~~~~*

There was little to no surprise that Bender antagonized the group. His main targets seemed to be Claire and Andrew, but he was making snide or crude remarks to everyone, and this made Brian very uneasy. He hated conflict and confrontation, which was probably why he had brought a flare gun to school rather than talk to his Shop teacher about replacing his failing grade or talk to his parents about how much he was truly struggling. He tried to take his mom’s advice about just doing work. He tried to convince the others to just write their assigned essays and not end up in a fight, but it didn’t work. He reasoned that he could at least do the right thing, but he couldn’t help but keep getting drawn into their conversations. It was almost like watching a trashy soap opera...or a staged wrestling match. “Go to hell!” Claire screamed at Bender, and Brian looked nervously to the door. Vernon surely heard that and would come storming back in, right?

But he didn’t, so Andy continued their conversation and got in a new dig at Bender, “You know, Bender, you don’t even count. If you disappeared forever it wouldn’t make any difference. You may as well not even exist anymore.” Brian gulped, thinking about his recent and frequent thoughts about how he himself ‘may as well not even exist anymore.’ He was doing...okay since the day he had had a semi-plan to take his own life, but the feelings didn’t just stop. He was still failing Shop, of all classes. He was still a disappointment and burden to his parents. He was still invisible at school, to Y/N. None of that went away when Mr. Ryan found the gun in his locker. Bender turned Andrew’s comment around and said he’d go out and join some clubs.

Now, Brian saw his opportunity to be less invisible, maybe. “I’m in a math club!” He blurted out. No dice. Bender and Claire just continued bickering, ignoring him completely. But he couldn’t help it when he stated “I’m in the Physics Club, too,” in their direction just hoping, praying that someone would acknowledge him. He hadn’t counted on that person being Y/N, though. She’d turned slightly towards him and his blue eyes flickered to hers and he froze. Having been lost in the argument between the others, he had almost forgotten that she was there. She gave him a gentle smile and a nod that made him gulp. He’d suddenly failed to remember how to breathe, how to function and his mind was only filled with a channel of ‘Oh shit. She’s looking at me.’

But then she added, “I’m in the Drama Club.” Of course, he knew that, but it was still nice for her, of all people, to be making conversation with him. He was immediately forced to snap out of it, though, when Bender addressed him.

“Excuse me a sec. What are you babbling about?” While Brian hated the look John gave him (it was much too similar to his parents’ frustrated looks when he was clearly ‘bothering’ them with something), Brian felt compelled to answer. He had wanted to be noticed, to be involved in the conversation, right?

“Well, what I’d said was, I’m in the Math Club, the Latin Club, uh, and the Physics Clu-Physics Club,” he stumbled through his words nervously. He felt regret instantly as Bender turned it around as a slight on Claire, and also managed to insult him by calling him a dork in the process. Still, he yearned for his attention and approval, so he eagerly answered John’s follow up questions. He just wanted to get along with everyone and have them accept him, and even though John was just using his input as ammunition against Claire, he liked that he was at least being included.

*~~~~*

It was a long, dragging morning. It was only around 10AM and topics of conversation seemed to already run out. Everyone was now more or less keeping to themselves. At first, Brian thought about writing his essay, as he said he planned to, but why bother? There were still many hours to fill, and how was he possibly supposed to answer the prompt of Who Am I? He truly did not know. He’d actually been pondering that a lot lately. All of his life he was praised for his smarts, but the ‘real world’ was showing him that that didn’t mean jack shit. Sure, he could understand difficult concepts and dissect complex equations, but that meant nothing if he couldn’t apply it. He thought he was taking the easy way out with Shop. It was meant to be a class he didn’t have to worry about; a stress-free A to keep his GPA up while juggling various clubs and volunteer opportunities to put on his college applications next year. But it ended up being a total nightmare. He was absolutely terrible at it, and he had never failed at anything before. Now the burn-outs and underachievers had the upper hand and were able to make their projects work and look good and he had...nothing. He failed so miserably that it tanked his self-esteem and now he was stuck in an identity crisis. It was much too early on a Saturday to confront those demons, so instead he chose to sit and daydream. And subconsciously, as with many teenage boys, his attention fell to girls. As much as he thought Claire was self-centered and spoiled, he had to admit that she was attractive. She carefully curated herself to be so. She had perfect, beautiful red hair that was never out of place, flawless makeup, perfectly fitting chic clothes...and she was staring into space licking and biting her lip, which had him completely flustered. Y/N only added to it by adjusting and stretching in her seat. Her beauty was more effortless than Claire’s, or at least seemed less...intentional. She did not have the designer clothes and her hair was more natural than trendy but alluring in her own right, and the way she was pushing her chest out was not helping. He could feel the shift and tightness in his khakis and tried to nonchalantly clear his throat, but now Y/N was turned three-quarters around and could clearly see him, so he tried to sneak his hat into his lap and acted like nothing was going on by setting his head on the desk. ‘Oh shit. Oh fuck.’ were the chorus of his thoughts as he could see her quickly turn back around and face forward. ‘I’m sure she thinks I’m a creep now. Great going, Johnson,’ he chastised himself.

Vernon was almost a welcome sight when he strode into the library at 10:20 to allow them to use the “lavatory.” Brian almost let out a sigh of relief. Almost. When they returned to the library and it was clear that Vernon wouldn’t return for a while, Bender started ripping up a book and when he threw it at Brian, the latter took that as his cue to walk away. He spotted Y/N looking through the catalogue of books and approached her. “Hey.” He nodded in her direction, trying to play it cool and seem neutral. ‘Smooth. Great opening,’ he thought. But to his surprise, she actually said ‘Hi’ back and smiled. He had no idea what to talk about and didn’t really think this through, but the black-clad girl let out a startling, “HA!” that made them both jump.

Brain looked back to the others and heard Andrew sarcastically say, “Oh, you’re breaking my heart,” to Claire.

“Sporto?” Bender asked, “Do you get along with your parents?” Brian started to look between the two of them nervously.

“Well, if I say yes I’m an idiot right?” Andrew responded. Bender leapt over the ramp’s banister and started at the other boy.

“You’re an idiot anyway. But if you say you get along with your parents, then you’re a liar too.” Not only did Brian not like being involved in confrontation, he also hated being witness to it. As Andrew followed Bender, he felt compelled to go break it up, put a stop to this.

“You want me to turn it up?” Bender asked, flipping off Andrew as Brian stepped between them, placing a hand on one of each of their shoulders. They smacked his hands away, almost in sync and he withdrew, but he knew words could be just as powerful as actions.

“I, I don’t like my parents either. I don’t know. Their idea of parental compassion is just...whacko.” Brian confessed.

“Dork? You are a parent’s wet dream, okay?” Bender replied, clapping him on his shoulder. It was a friendly enough gesture, but it actually dealt a devastating blow. Brian knew he was a disappointment to his parents. He was being open and honest with the group and was shut down immediately anyway. “...face it, you're a neo-maxi-zoom-dweebie. What would you be out doing if you weren’t making yourself a better citizen?” Another hit. This one made Brian sink against one of the tables. He hung his head and didn’t even notice Y/N approach him until she softly placed her hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?” She offered, gazing into his eyes. He was terrified that she would be able to read him and to see the truth, to see the sad and scared kid he truly was inside. Instead, he stiffened up and sat rigidly, clearing his throat of emotion.

“Yeah, thanks.” He also tried his best to ignore that she was touching him. If he weren’t in detention being told he was the epitome of geek by John Bender, he’d have sworn this were a dream. Bender now moved his disdain to Claire, asking if she were a virgin. Y/N shifted uncomfortably away from Brian and crossed her arms over her chest, but still stood next to him, watching the same drama unfold. Bender and Andrew soon stood in front of them, fully in a heated argument and Bender took a swing. Brian didn’t think twice and reflexively shot his arm up to shield Y/N. Sure, his crush on her might be stupid or silly, but he was not about to let her get caught in this crossfire and get hurt. He watched as Andrew wrestled Bender to the floor and Bender said, “I don’t want to get into this with you, man...cuz I’d kill you.” Andrew let him up and they seemed to separate and cool down, so Brian finally moved his arm back down, assuming the danger towards Y/N was gone but he was on-guard still, ready to move again if he needed to. “It’s real simple. I’d kill you and then your fucking parents would sue me and it would be a big mess, and I don’t care about you enough to bother.” For some reason, this hit Brian hard and he had to look away, look down to escape. But then he heard a click and his head shot up. Bender had pulled out a switchblade. His eyes went wide and he looked cautiously at Y/N who looked just as shocked. They all relaxed a little when he stabbed it into a chair instead of Andrew’s flesh, but immediately panicked again when the door audibly unlatched and opened. They scrambled to get to their seats, Bender quickly striding to the front and sitting far away from Andy so as not to implicate himself. But that meant that he had stolen Y/N’s seat. On her original route to it, she diverted and sat quickly and silently next to Brian. He swallowed hard in response.

Instead of Vernon, Carl the janitor walked in. They collectively sighed with relief and he addressed Brian. “Brian, how ya doin’?” Brian quickly averted his eyes, both embarrassed to be seen here by Carl (he stayed late in many clubs and had built up a good rapport with the man and didn’t need him thinking less of him for being in detention) and by being seen as associated with him by his peers. Carl was a great guy, really funny and nice; accommodated every need each one of his clubs had...but Brian was still a teenager and image was everything and being thought of as ‘dweeb who is friends with the janitor’ was not how he wanted to be seen.

“Your dad work here?” Bender inquired, smirking deviously. Brian just shook his head in response and didn’t answer Carl, either. “Carl, can I ask you a question? How does one become a janitor?” Bender continued.

“You want to become a janitor?” Carl asked, knowing that Bender didn’t really want to know.

“No, I just want to know how one becomes one. Andrew here is very interested in pursuing a career in the custodial arts.” Bender glanced over at Andrew and smirked again, pleased with his implied put-down.

“Oh really? You guys think I’m some untouchable peasant, serf, peon? Maybe so. But following a broom around after shitheads like you for the last eight years, I’ve learned a couple of things.” Carl looked towards Brian and Y/N, “I look through your letters.” Brian thought he saw her stiffen and freeze, just a little bit, as if Carl were addressing her. She suddenly shifted away from Brian and he wasn’t sure what to make of that. “...I am the eyes and the ears of this institution, my friend.” Carl stopped and smiled, “By the way. That clock is twenty minutes fast.” Brian looked at it and then his watch, noting that he was right. He wasn’t sure if he should adjust his wrist piece or not; to go with the time on the wall or the time Vernon was keeping. But he couldn’t be bothered with the choice when Bender stood up and faced his table. He was afraid of what he might do or say to them, but he simply nodded towards Y/N’s seat, indicating that she could have it back.

“I’m good for now,” she said, surprising Brian. He assumed she would have moved back, a moment ago she moved away from him, but now she was looking at him out of the corner of her eye before glancing back up at John, who was raising an inquisitive eyebrow. “Thanks for not dicking with my stuff though,” she said.

“Oh, shit.” Bender said “Do you think I should steal something or has the moment passed?” The tension seemed to drop and they all smiled as he went back to his seat, but he turned his attention back their way. “So, you’ve been pretty quiet, what’s your name?” Brian had a bad habit of blurting out. He liked answering questions as it was, showing his knowledge. A lot of the time, it didn’t matter if he was being asked or not. So, without thinking, he responded to Bender’s question and told him Y/N’s name. It was a reflex, but one he instantly regretted, feeling like he just shot himself in the foot. Bender gave him a look and he steeled himself for his worst, for the mockery sure to come, but instead he just looked at her and followed up with “Is that true? Is that your name?”

She didn’t acknowledge his weirdness either. She simply nodded and told John, “Yeah, (Y/N). Or, I guess you could call me (Y/N/N) if you want,” and Brian let out a quiet shaky exhale in relief. That could have been...disastrous. After a moment, while Bender was otherwise occupied, she turned to him and said, “Thank you, for earlier. I mean, blocking me when those two were getting into it.” He felt his heart race; he wasn’t sure she had even noticed that earlier, even though he wasn’t exactly subtle.

“N-no problem.” He responded, trying to restrain the smile creeping up onto his face. He wanted to play it cool, like it was no big deal, like that’s just what manly men such as himself do: put themselves in harm’s way for others.

Vernon came in to dismiss them for lunch much too early for his liking. He didn’t really have much of a chance to talk to Y/N while she was sitting next to him, and as soon as they were allowed to mill about like the caged animals they currently were, the remaining members of their detention gravitated towards Bender near the center of the library. Brian was slightly disappointed when she wandered off into the stacks as Bender looked through books and Claire continued her daydreaming. Not really sure what to do with himself, Brian folded his long legs over one of the ramp railings and sat atop it, hunched over. He looked up when Bender called out, “Hey, Peachy!” There were a few moments of silence before Y/N looked back over in their direction and Brian froze, immediately disliking Bender addressing her as such and worrying what uncouth thing he might say to her. But he just asked her what she could be in detention for, because she didn’t seem the type, which Brian wholeheartedly agreed with. He waited intently for the answer, as every interaction he had with her (or every observation, rather), she seemed so...sweet.

“Oh. Well, you know how in Biology they dissect like, frogs and shit every year?” She looked a little defeated and a blush crept up her cheeks as she continued, “I---sort of stole and freed the frogs.” Brian couldn’t help but laugh. That seemed like something you shouldn’t get detention for, anyway, but it was definitely on-par with the personality he knew her for. He felt relieved that the reason aligned with how he thought of her. She was in here for something nice, and debatably, the right thing. His heart melted a little when she told Bender that she had researched enough to let the frogs go responsibly; that she would have adopted them if they wouldn’t have made it on their own and he couldn’t help but smile in her direction. Bender, of course, moved on quickly, scanning one of the books in his stack to find new material to talk about, to bother the girls with, but Brian’s gaze was still fixated on Y/N. She was running her fingers along spines of books, seemingly in her own world. He felt like maybe it was fated that they were both here, like he was getting a second chance. He still hadn’t really conjured up the courage to talk to her yet, but they were only half-way through their day; there was still time.

“Claire? Y/N? You wanna see a picture of a guy with elephantitis of the nuts?” Bender asked, “Pretty tasty. How do you think he rides a bike? Oh Claire, would you ever consider dating a guy like this?”

“Wait,” Y/N’s eyes lit up and she looked their way again. “Elephantiasis? Like the movie The Elephant Man? Great movie! Really sad though.” Brian grinned at the way she scrunched her eyebrows together in remembering the emotion from the movie. He had seen it, too. It was really good...and touching. Maybe that could be his ice-breaker. Movies were normal things that normal teenagers talked about, right? He didn’t really notice that Bender and Claire were still conversing until it implicated him, though.

“Oh! Watch what you say. Brian here is a cherry.” Brian looked at him, startled.

“A cherry?” He asked, indignantly, cheeks flaring up with a red hue. “I am not a cherry.” He didn’t need Bender calling him out like this, embarrassing him. He didn’t need the obvious association that the nerd was a virgin. Especially in front of beautiful girls, particularly Y/N. She didn’t need to know that he was an inexperienced loser.

“When have you ever gotten laid?” Bender asked, doubtfully

“I’ve laid lots of times.”

“Name ONE.” Bender said, sarcastically, hoping to catch him in a trap.

“She lives in Canada. Met her at Niagara Falls; You wouldn’t know her.” Brian said, prepared with this answer from previous conversations about this topic. It wasn’t the first time he’d been involved in a conversation about virginity that he couldn’t be entirely honest about, nor was it the first time he had been mocked for being a virgin or doubted about the non-existent relations that he didn’t have. Even though part of his brain felt like it was glaringly obvious to the outside world and must have been stamped on his forehead that girls did not typically talk to him, nor had he even kissed a girl before, but he still lied about it anyway. He knew he didn’t precisely have an ‘image’ to protect, but he didn’t want to seem like a total lost cause or dweeby stereotype.

Bender, however, wasn’t having it. “You ever lay anyone around here?” He scoffed and Brian panicked. He had noticed that Y/N had turned back to the aisle of books and was praying she wasn’t listening, and Claire didn’t seem to be paying attention, so he tried to gesture to Bender to keep it down, to let him off the hook before either girl noticed him or this conversation. Bender immediately twisted it around and attacked him with it, though. Brian felt his heart being squeezed and felt overwhelmed, instantly, as Bender said, “Oh. You and Claire did it.”

“Oh, uh I-Let’s just drop it, okay? We’ll talk about it later,” Brian attempted to get out of it again, praying that John would have one ounce of mercy on him. However, Brian was never really very lucky.

“Well, Brian is trying to tell me that in addition to the number of girls in the Niagara Falls area, that presently you and he are riding the hobby horse.” Brian’s eyes slammed shut in embarrassment.

“You little pig,” Claire growled at him and his eyes shot back open wide. He scrambled to defend himself.

“No! I’m not! John said I was a cherry and I said I wasn’t. That’s it. That’s all I said.”

“Well then what were you motioning to Claire for?” Bender followed up, not giving Brian any wiggle room.

“You know, I don’t appreciate this very much, Brian.” Claire sounded more disappointed and hurt than anything, which made Brian feel like a slug, instantly. He didn’t mean to implicate her or to bring her down. He was just trying to hide his embarrassment from John and the girls.

“He is lying!” Brian tried one last attempt to deflect.

“Oh, you weren’t motioning to Claire?”

“You know he’s lying, right?”

“Were you, or were you not motioning to Claire?” Brian hated this. He’d been stuffed in lockers before and yearned for that over the torture Bender was inflicting now. He couldn’t save face; either he was a disgusting creep saying he had had sex with Claire when he didn��t, or he’d have to tell them the truth and feel humiliated at telling everyone he was a virgin. He grit his teeth and chose to go with the latter.

“Yeah, but it was only- it was only because I didn’t want her to know I was a virgin, okay?” They looked almost...shocked by his response, which he wasn’t expecting. He thought it would be a ‘Well, duh, you’re a virgin, Johnson! Who would want to touch you?’ But Claire and Y/N looked surprised. “Excuse me for being a virgin, I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you want me to know you were a virgin?” Claire asked honestly, like it was no big deal. If she only knew...

“Because it’s personal business. It’s my personal, private business.”

“Well, Brian, it doesn’t sound like you’re doing any business,” Bender snuck in another jab and Brian was brought down to what he knew all along, that they were just going to laugh at him.

“I think it’s okay for a guy to be a virgin.” Claire’s unexpected response gave him instant relief. She was taking his side and Bender had no more ammo. Brian perked up even more when Y/N agreed with her. It wasn’t an embarrassing secret for him now because they didn’t mind. They almost seemed to admire him for it. The thought caused his lips to twitch and he hid his smile by leaning his head against his knee.

*~~~~*

During lunch, Bender didn’t have any food, so his appetite turned to targeting the rest of the detainees again. He started in on Claire for a bit, but then came over to taunt Brian. It seemed like it could be friendly, at first, as John just examined his lunch. But as he drew out each item, his tone became more and more sarcastic. “Here’s my impression of life at Big Bri’s house.” Bender went on to mock him, painting his life like it was some episode of Leave It To Beaver where the family would all hug it out at the end. Brian’s throat became dry and he could feel eyes on both Bender and himself, trying to judge his reactions to John’s farce. He hated being such an easy target. He hadn’t done anything towards John personally, but he was still constantly in the hot seat because John could get away with it and the others would laugh and enjoy it. At least Andy fought back...even Claire did. And Bender didn’t even really bother to mess with Allison. She had an aura of ‘don’t fuck with me,’ and he didn’t even touch her as a subject, even though she was just as odd and out of place as Brian. Not to mention, he was wrong. It wasn’t all peachy-keen happy endings at Brian’s house. If it were, Brian wouldn’t be here today.

Still, it was hard not to be drawn in by John, and he watched his next dramatic retelling of his own home life in stunned horror. John’s dad called him terrible names in this act and hit him. “Is that for real?” Brian asked, brows furrowed. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe John, it was just that...well, the situation sucked and he needed to be told it wasn’t true. Like a kid hearing that a ghost story was made up and there was nothing to fear. But he knew by John’s pained expression that it was, even before he spoke.

“Wanna come over some time?” Bender asked him and he flinched away. Andrew didn’t believe him though, and questioned it so John revealed to them all his very real cigar burn scar on his arm, claiming he got it from spilling paint in the garage. The group collectively flinched and no one moved for a few moments while Bender said, “I don’t need to sit with you fuckin’ dildos anymore,” and raged through the library.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Claire admonished Andrew.

“How would I know? I mean he lies about everything anyway.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.” Y/N snapped at him and looked back towards Bender as though she wanted to follow him. Brian tried to will her silently not to; he didn’t really trust that Bender would control his emotions and she might get hurt. He felt relieved when she turned around, but then his heart began pounding once more as she gathered her lunch into the sack and stood up. ‘No, don’t do it, Y/N.’ He stared at her, but she didn’t seem to notice as she cautiously walked past and crept up the library stairs to where Bender was and sat next to him. Brian felt a little calmed when Bender didn’t lash out; he just rolled his eyes but stayed rooted to the spot. Meanwhile, the rest of the group at their lunch in silence.

*~~~~*

Brian felt guilty for leaving Bender behind, for allowing him to sacrifice himself for the group. Hell, they all did. Especially when Vernon started shoving him around and saying he was going to be in jail. Brian couldn’t help but wonder if he could become like John. It’s not like he was born into that life. But he had it tough at home, struggled at school, and had problems with authority (particularly when they lied). Brian could see some parallels. He, too, was unhappy at home. While his parents didn’t beat him like John’s did him, or berate him to the same degree, he couldn’t help but feel like a disappointment. And he felt like he was just slipping. Now he had broken school rules, brought a gun to school, watched as others destroyed school property, and was gaining a healthy distrust of authority by seeing how Vernon acted today. He’d even corrected him once, when counting Bender’s detentions, not that the truth seemed to matter to Vernon anyway. What if he continued down this path? What if things just kept getting worse at home? Would it really be that bad to be like Bender? Despite being a total jerkwad, he had the charisma to draw people in. He’d even had Y/N eat lunch with him! It just didn’t seem like the deal was all bad when he looked at it that way. ‘What’s next? Are you going to take up smoking?’ His brain scolded him, even though he had completely forgotten that he had drugs stashed in his pants right now...until Bender fell through the ceiling and asked for them back. He dug them uncomfortably out of his underwear and handed the bag over. Bender took off to smoke in the library and Brian realized he had a choice to make. Boy, was he tempted. ‘What’s one more rule broken today?’ He felt more emboldened when Claire stood up and followed John. Andrew tried to talk him out of it, shaking his head. Brian drummed his hands on the desk. He wasn’t sure he’d have another opportunity. Most of his friends and acquaintances didn’t do drugs...to his knowledge, anyway. He thought momentarily about his cousin Kendall, and how he started smoking pot and didn’t feel like he belonged anywhere. ‘You already don’t feel like you belong anywhere,’ His mind reminded him, and with that, the decision was made; what did he have to lose? So he slunk off to join Bender and Claire.

It was...definitely a different experience. Brian didn’t care for the way his thoughts seemed so disjointed, that he couldn’t keep one train of thought going. For someone who was known for his intelligence and felt like his brain was his one good quality, it was a little scary to have that slip away. But, there was a sort of numbness that came with the drug that made him worry less about that. He felt less worried and anxious in general, actually. His focus was being pulled in too many directions to wonder what his parents would think or if he was saying the right thing, or if this could even be a mistake. He felt relaxed and oddly open. He was even making Bender and Claire laugh, which he hadn’t expected. It was like there was a new persona underneath that was unlocked. He didn’t know what he was doing, but it wasn’t the worst thing ever. He was, however, surprised by how long the effects lasted. It was a little more than an hour later and the whole group was sitting in a circle (Y/N and Allison never seemed to have joined them in the marijuana. Not that he had noticed, anyway) and Allison was telling the group that she was a nymphomaniac, which was exciting. Particularly to someone with zero experience, to hear someone claim she’d done ‘almost everything’ was utterly fascinating. However, his head was still swimming and he seemed to have a lack of filter between his brain and his mouth. He couldn’t catch his words fast enough, which was often a problem for him sober, but now it wasn’t just supplying corrections or information, the more cruel thoughts slipped through, too.

“Obviously she’s crazy if she’s screwing her shrink,” he added to the group without even thinking. Y/N was sitting to his right and promptly hit him on the arm with the back of her hand.

“Brian!” She hissed and gave him a glare. ‘Oh shit. Did I say that out loud?’ He thought, looking at her with wide-eyed fear. The realization sobered him up pretty quickly and he was much more in control of his thoughts and words after that. Despite the weed taking away most of his worries, he still cared how she perceived him. From then on, he was more focused on the conversations in front of him and how he added to them, but it was harder to control his emotions when Andrew began telling them about why he was here today.

“You guys know what I did to get in here today? I taped Larry Lester’s buns together.” Andy said, with a hint of a smile. ‘How can he just smirk like that? He has to know it was a shitty thing to do and that he hurt Larry.’ Brian thought. He knew Larry had been attacked this week by one of the sports, but he didn’t know who. Larry didn’t even know the kid’s name, had never talked to him, but still got jumped anyway. An experience that Brian was all too familiar with.

“That was you?” Brian asked, somewhat surprised, but started to get angry.

“You know him?”

“Yeah, I know him.” He said quietly, trying not to let the anger bubble past the surface.

He had to bite his tongue when Andy made Larry into a joke, “Then you know how hairy he is right?” Bender and Claire chuckled at his joke, at him bullying one of Brian’s friends. ‘I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything different,’ Brian thought dejectedly. But he was hoping that they were all better people than...this. The realization that they weren’t better than that, coupled with Andrew expressing his feelings about his father got Brian thinking. “I...hate him. He’s like this mindless machine that I can’t even relate to anymore.” Brian felt so disconnected from his parents, too, even though the rest of the group thought they lived in a fairytale. He was their pride and joy once, but it felt like ever since he started high school, he just wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t a good enough student, he didn’t do his chores right, he wasn’t setting himself up for college correctly, he wasn’t a good role model or brother to his sister...it all just added up and weighed on him immensely. He covered his face with one of his hands to hide his emotion and expression from the group. He didn’t even react when Andrew started screaming what his father had told him, but when everything settled down, he took the chance to speak.

“That’s like me, you know, with my grades. Like, when I step outside myself. A-and I look in on myself...and-and I see me, I don’t like what I see,” it was a difficult thing to admit but after what Allison and Andrew shared, he felt like maybe this could be the space to do so, too.

“What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you like yourself?” Claire asked. He knew it was meant to be nice, encouraging even, but it just made him feel worse. This beautiful, popular, and rich girl asking someone why they weren’t happy with themselves? Like she could have any sort of clue. No wonder it baffled her; she had everything. But he could also see Y/N nodding vigorously, agreeing with Claire. He didn’t want to put her on the same plane as Claire, he felt like she would be above that. But she clearly didn’t understand the way he felt, either. That just made him feel more alone.

“It’s stupid, but,” Brian said, “because I’m failing shop. We had this assignment to make this, uh, ceramic elephant. Anyways we were supposed to-it was, it was a lamp. When you pulled the trunk, the light was supposed to go on. But my light didn’t go on. I got an F on it. I’ve never got an F in my life. When I signed up, y’know, for the course, I thought I was playing it smart. I was, uh, ‘I’ll take Shop, it’s an easy way to maintain my grade point average.’”

“Why’d you think it would be easy?” Bender chimed in, not making eye contact. Brian had been lost in his own thoughts and his story and not looking at the group either, really. He had wanted to be honest, but he was also embarrassed. Honesty would have been hard to maintain if he was looking at them and seeing their judgments in real time.

“Have you seen some of the dopes that take Shop?” Brian asked, not realizing it would strike a nerve.

“I take Shop.” Bender responded, now turning his eyes to him, “You must be a fucking idiot.”

“I’m a fucking idiot because I can’t make a lamp?” Brian snapped defensively. He should have known it would be a mistake to put himself on the line like this, to open himself up to their judgement. He knew Bender was lashing out because he was insulted, but that didn’t make his jibes hurt any less.

“No, you’re a genius because you can’t make a lamp.” Bender shot back, sarcastically.

“What do you know about Trigonometry?” Brian fought back.

“I could care less about Trigonometry.”

“Bender, there’s no engineering without trigonometry.”

“Without lamps, there’d be no light.” Bender replied grumpily, grasping at straws for a fair comparison.

“Okay, so neither one of you is any better than the other one,” Claire jumped in. Before either of them responded, Allison added her own odd addition.

“I can write with my toes!” Both Bender and Brian looked at her incredulously, but she did calm the two of them down and add levity to the moment.

“I can make spaghetti!” Brian said cheerfully after a moment. Y/N smiled at him and his heart fluttered. He returned the smile and for a moment, forgot all about his blunder. Maybe that smile had given him the courage to participate again, to be open and vulnerable. Claire and Bender began fighting again, which wasn’t a surprise, but it opened a door for Brian to ask what had been weighing on his mind since their circle began. He felt like they had all bonded. They had told each other some of their deepest secrets and biggest pains, but did that really make them friends? “I know it’s kind of a weird time, but you know, I was just wondering...what’s going to happen to us on Monday? I mean, I consider you guys my friends,” he continued, looking around the circle, “I’m not wrong, am I?”

“No,” Andy reassured him. So, he wasn’t imagining it, they felt like friends, too.

“So on Monday, what happens?”

“Are we still friends, you mean? If we’re friends now?” Claire asked.

“Yeah.”

“You want the truth?” Claire couldn’t meet his eye, and Brian knew from the question she posed, he really didn’t want the truth. He knew what was coming, but he continued anyway.

“Yeah, I want the truth.”

“I don’t think so.” Claire responded and he somehow still wasn’t prepared for the blow. It still hit him hard, causing a squeezing pain in his chest and he looked away, clenching his jaw to hold the tears back that were welling in his eyes.

“With all of us,” Allison asked, “or just John?”

“With all of you,” Claire confirmed, looking away from the group.

“That’s a real nice attitude, Claire,” Andrew said gruffly.

“Oh, be honest, Andy,” Claire groaned, “If Brian came up to you in the hall on Monday, what would you do? Picture it, you’re with all the sports.” Brian glanced up at his name and looked at Andy hopefully. In his heart, he knew Claire was probably right, but he wanted to believe that Andrew was really his friend, that they all were. “You know exactly what you’d do. You’d say hi to him and then you’d laugh and cut him all up so your friends wouldn’t think you actually like him.”

“No way.” Andy denied, and that gave Brian a glimmer of hope, one he so desperately wanted to believe.

“What if I came up to you?” Allison asked.

“Same exact thing.”

“You are a bitch!” Bender yelled at Claire.

“Why?! Because I’m telling the truth? That makes me a bitch?”

“No. Cuz you know how shitty that is to do to someone and you don’t have the balls to stand up to your friends and tell them you’re gonna like who you wanna like…” Bender continued berating Claire, but Brian now started to fail to hold back the tears that had been threatening so long to fall. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone in the group and tried to quickly wipe the tear away, hoping no one was paying attention to him; that they couldn’t see how they had impacted him. But he still felt eyes on him, particularly when he wiped the next tear away. He let Claire and Bender’s argument surround him. They called each other out, that neither would associate with him or Allison, that their image was too important to protect to reach out. It was a story that Brian had lived all of his life. ‘How could I think that one day would change everything?’ He thought, pitifully.

“So I assume Allison, Y/N, and I are better people than you? Us weirdos?” Brian interjected when Claire and Bender were silently fuming from their spat. “You, would you do that to me?” He asked Allison.

“I don’t have any friends,” she replied, which made Brian smile a little, even though he rolled his eyes some.

“Okay, but if you did?” He let out a light chuckle, urging her to answer.

“No. I don’t think the kind of friends that I’d have would mind,” Allison replied and Brian nodded, then steeled himself to turn to Y/N and ask the same question. He saw her quickly swipe at her face with her sleeves and realized, suddenly, that she had been crying too. He wasn’t sure why; she had been very quiet through this whole exchange, but maybe that was because it hit home hard for her, too. He felt a painful pang in his chest, both from seeing her tears and from fearing the possibility of her answer. He had spent the day hoping that this was a second chance, that he could get to know her. This was a bold move and would tell him if there was even a chance or not; and he feared the ‘not.' She locked eyes with him and he gulped, petrified to dive in but knowing he had to.

“What about you, Y/N?” He asked, quietly. It felt like the question hung in the air for an agonizing eternity, even though she answered right away. Time worked differently when you were waiting to hear if your world was going to be shattered.

“I would be honored to be your friend,” she replied with a shaking voice. Even though it was strained, it filled him with instant relief. He believed her as he had believed Allison and nodded, biting his lip.

“I just want to tell, each of you, that I wouldn’t do that,” he turned to the group,” I wouldn’t and I will not. Because I think it’s real shitty.”

“Your friends wouldn’t mind because they look up to us.” Claire told him and he couldn’t help but laugh derisively in response. Next to him, he heard Y/N give a sort of squeak but figured that it carried the same disbelief towards Claire as his gesture did.

“You’re so conceited, Claire. You’re so conceited. You’re like, so full of yourself. Why are you like that?” Brian noticed the tears falling again and swiped them away. He didn’t want Claire to think she wounded him, that she had the upper hand. While it stung to have all of his beliefs about how the popular kids perceived him and his friends confirmed, that wasn’t what really was bothering him. It was more that it reminded him that he was invisible, he didn’t matter, which was exactly why he was here today.

“I’m not saying that to be conceited. I hate it. I hate having to go along with everything my friends say.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“I don’t- I don’t know,” Claire sighed, and Brian noticed that she was drying her own tears. He didn’t necessarily like having caused them, but it was nice to know she was still human, that she was feeling the way he was, too. “You don’t understand, You’re not friends with the same kind of people Andy and I are friends with, you know? You just don’t understand the kind of pressure that they can put on you.” That, however, lit a fire within Brian. ‘Pressure from other assholes is so important? Try your own parents, Claire.’

“I don’t understand what?” Brian began, gesturing towards himself and planting his fingers into his chest. It relieved some of the dull ache there. “You think I don’t understand pressure, Claire? Well, fuck you! Fuck you!” ‘Also, fuck ‘bravery’ or saving face,’ Brian broke down into sobs in his elbow before calling out from his hiding spot, “do you know why I’m here today? Do you?!” He sat up to look at the group, the people he considered friends, to share his pain with them. “I’m here...because Mr. Ryan found a gun in my locker.” The words turned thick as they left his mouth and took on a life of their own. His eyes darted quickly around the circle, noting Claire’s dropped jaw, Allison’s tearful eyes that couldn’t meet his own, the way Andrew looked away and Bender seemed to know how he had felt, but also how he was surprised that Brian had the balls to do such a thing, and finally...tears silently and consistently slipping down Y/N’s face.

“What’s the gun for?” Andrew asked, interrupting Brian’s thoughts.

“I tried. You pull the fuckin’--trunk and the light’s supposed to go on and it didn’t go on, you know?” ‘You’ve said too much. They all thought you were a weirdo, now they think you’re a psychotic weirdo.’ “Forget it. Just--forget it,” he said in an attempt to brush it off, as if everything could go back to normal with the bombshell he just dropped on them.

“You brought it up, man,” Andrew insisted.

“I can’t have an F. I can’t have it and I know my parents can’t. Even if I aced the rest of the semester, it would only be a B. I’m ruined.”

“Brian…” Claire started, but there was nothing she could say to make this alright. ‘You’re a failure, Brian, and now you’ve become a freakshow. Look at her pity,’ his brain taunted him and he lashed out to hit the stool on his right, not even thinking about it until Y/N jumped up in her seated position, startled. The last thing he would want to do is hurt or scare her. ‘Shit, great. Another fuck up.’

“Sorry,” he mumbled in her direction before setting his head on his knee and continuing with his story from before, “Just considering my options, you know?”

“No, killing yourself is never an option!” Claire yelled at him, which made him scoff.

“Well I didn’t do it, did I? No, I didn’t think so.” ‘She really just doesn’t get it, does she? She still can’t picture why I’d want to--’

“It was a handgun?” Allison asked

“A flare gun. It blew up in my locker.” Brian sighed, but then he heard Andrew start to laugh. “It’s not funny.” Brian asserted. Andrew tried to clear his throat to stop laughing, but he couldn’t and Brian bit his lip and smiled in realization, “Yeah, it is.” The laughter was contagious...and better than crying. “Fucking elephant was destroyed.”

“You know what I did to get in here?” Allison asked the group, and Brian almost feared her answer. “Nothing. I didn’t have anything better to do.” That completely brightened the mood and Brian fell over laughing. It seemed like he was forgiven and that no one here was judging him for the failed lamp or the gun nor would they tell anybody about it. They...they had accepted him in the end after all.

*~~~~*

“...we trust you.” Claire was trying to talk him into writing one essay to cover all of them, and she was using flattery. Lucky for her, it worked. He looked down the row to seek approval from the others and they all nodded. But he liked knowing that they thought he was the smartest and the most capable, that they trusted his words would win over Vernon in a way that they wouldn’t be punished for not doing their own essays. It was a big task and a lot to entrust to him, so he took pride in fulfilling it. Claire took the other girls with her somewhere and it was just Andrew and him sitting silently in the library, so he decided to get to work. Andrew was just lurking about, playing with his jewelry, but he wasn’t a distraction. However, Allison passing by looking completely different was. Brian looked up, shocked that this was the same person he had spent all day with. Her hair was away from her face and he could actually see her brown eyes and she was wearing...white, the opposite of all of the layers of black before. He caught her glare at him staring at her so he tried to give her a reassuring smile, that it was a good look for her. She said, “thank you,” and moved on toward Andrew. Brian turned back to his essay and finished the last couple of lines, not noticing Y/N approaching behind him. If he had, he probably wouldn’t have kissed the essay or given himself a ‘good job’ punch in the arm.

He sat up in startled revelation when she spoke, “That good, huh?” He realized she had just seen everything. He had never felt more like a dork in his life and a blush crept up into his cheeks.

“Uh...yeah, I-I guess. I mean, do you want to read it?” He asked as she started to pull back the chair next to him to sit down.

“If you want me to, but I trust you.” She took her seat and placed her arm gently on his forearm. ‘Holy shit. She is touching me! She’s looking at me. What do I even say? Do I acknowledge the touch or do I just--’ “I’m impressed that you came up with something so quickly though.” Brian felt pride bubble up within him, knowing that she noticed...no, she was impressed by him. He cocked his head and looked at her sideways, trying to figure her out. She quickly looked away and pulled her hand back, now fiddling with her sleeves. ‘Is she...nervous?’ He thought, trying to decode her reaction. “So, um…you said earlier that you were in the Math Club? Um, I mean, if you have the time, do you think you could tutor me? I’m like totally lost in Clarkson’s class.”

He blinked. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t exactly that. Not that he would say no to spending more time with her. He had wanted that second chance, after all. “Yeah, no, I could do that,” he told her and watched as she twisted away and looked behind her, grabbing paper off of Allison’s desk. She leaned back forward and reached for his pen in front of him. She was actually close enough now that he could smell her shampoo and his body threatened to turn into jello on the spot.

“Here...is...my...phone number.” She said as she wrote it out on the paper and handed it to him. “Call me so we can set something up?” She looked up at him and knocked the breath right out of his lungs.

“You--You want me to call you?” He asked with raised eyebrows, wholly surprised by the request. He’d not only not kissed a girl, but one had never given him her phone number before.

“Yeah.” She smiled at him and his heartbeat picked up even faster, if that was possible. She cleared her throat and nodded towards Andrew and Allison. “So, those two, huh? Unexpected, right?”

“Oh. Yeah.” He was suddenly hurtled back to Earth, to reality. “Definitely. Wait, where’s Claire?”

“She...she said she was going to go ‘check on’ Bender.”

“Wow. So them, too.” ‘Everyone is coupling up maybe we should--’ he interrupted his own thought and shot it down. All he could say was, “That’s really...weird.”

*~~~~*

After they were finally released and Brian left his essay on the desk for Vernon to collect, and hopefully reflect upon, they all walked out together. It made sense as they all had to go to the main entrance, but there was a feeling of solidarity within it that made Brian think that the members of what he dubbed The Breakfast Club would continue their friendship come Monday.

Allison and Andrew branched off together, as did Claire and John. Brian looked quickly at Y/N as she walked down the steps with him. His dad was there to pick him up, which he was thankful for. His mom would definitely notice him walking with a girl and have a million questions and a lengthy lecture lined up, but his dad would barely notice, much less think anything of it. He reached for the door handle as Y/N was about to depart, but then she called his name, “Hey Brian,” he looked up, not sure what else she could possibly have to say, especially since they had been silent while the couples had veered off. “See you Monday.” She reminded him and gave him a small smile. He gave a grin in return.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you on Monday.” He replied, beginning to get into the car, her phone number burning a hole in his pocket. For the first time in a long time, he was actually looking forward to another week school.

Tags:

@criminalwipes

[thegeneralguy]

A good role model

Hello! Thanks to @amalianetwork for helping me out with this story. Its a bit shorter than what I usually post on here, but it struck some heart strings inside of me. I hope you enjoy it.

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“Come on Matt! We’re going to be late for the festival!”

The excited shrieks came from a young child not older than ten years of age. His wavy blonde hair was encased in a blue baseball cap, and he was wearing an old button shirt. He was grabbing the hand from an older young man, pulling him forward with haste. Both boys looked very alike, age being the most differentiating factor between them.

“Ease up Cole, your number starts at seven. There’s plenty of time.”

“Yes, but I want to rehearse one time before the show. Mrs. Davis said all kids in our class had to meet an hour before to practice our song”

Matt advanced reluctantly, feeling uneasy in his attempt at formal attire. He adjusted his badly-knotted tie and tried his best in accommodating his oversized shirt. But he knew it was a necessary sacrifice, because this was supposed to be Cole’s “big night”. He would do anything for his little brother, even if it meant dressing as a buffon. The boys were rushing through the parking lot of the local theatre, amongst a sea of other families heading to the entrance. They entered the building and immediately headed backstage to deliver Cole to his class. Matt made sure his small bowtie was in place, but when he tried to take the cap from him, Cole swatted his hand away.

“Cole, you know you’ll get in trouble if you throw a fit over that cap again. All the kids in your class have to be dressed the same.”

Cole pouted and grabbed his head with both hands, securing it on his head.

“Please let me keep it. I’m scared to perform without it.”

“Okay you win. Just this one time though. You’re a big boy now, there are some rules you have to follow.”

“You’re the best Matt!”, said the little boy hugging his brother.

“Just remember to have lots of fun! I’ll be watching you from the front rows. And remember, once your act is over we gotta go.”

“That's not fair! Mrs. Davis is gonna take us all for pizza once the show is over.”

“I’m sorry C. You know Aunt Gertrude doesn’t like it when we go out late.”

“I don’t like Aunt Gertrude. She’s mean.”

Matt kept a straight face not to give a bad example, but he knew what his brother was talking about. Their aunt was a real menace sometimes. Especially when her rules were disobeyed.

“Don’t be like that buddy. Aunt Gertrude has been nice to us, so we have to obey the rules of her house. Besides, I’ll take you for pizza on the weekend. What do you say?”

“Yay! Thanks Matt. I’ll hurry up after the show, I promise. See you later!”

Cole then turned around and sprinted towards his group. Matt looked at his brother tenderly, remembering all they have gone through together. The blue cap was originally his, a gift from their father. They never had a lot to begin with, and after his parents were gone, the cap was one of the only mementos he had from them. He remembered hugging it terrified, as the police explained to him with gruesome detail for a twelve year old how his parents had been killed in a mugging. Cole had been only five at the time. Their aunt was their only living relative, so they were placed in her house. Cole couldn’t stop crying during the first night, so Matt gave him the blue cap and told him as long as he had it, his father would be there with him. Five years had passed, and the little boy still took the cap everywhere. Convincing Cole to take it off to wash it was a real hassle sometimes, but Matt managed. He was a good big brother after all.

Matt went to his seat and watched the recital in silence. Group after group they performed, excited families bursting in applause every time their kid went onstage. The young man was growing increasingly nervous, watching the minutes turn into an hour. The show was taking too long, which meant arriving at his aunt’s too late and having to deal with her wrath. He was lost in thought when suddenly Cole’s group was onstage. He cheered and applauded his little brother, who along with his classmates presented a potpourri of popular songs. He immediately recognized him due to the blue garment sticking out of the sea of white shirts. Once the number was done, he stood up from his seat and went to meet his brother backstage to take him to their aunt’s.

Their Aunt Gertrude was a solitary woman, preferring to live alone and far away from any other neighbor. The little house stood right at the edge of the woods, standing lonely amongst the dark trees. The car was parked on the driveway, so Matt knew immediately their aunt was home. He prepared mentally for the fit she was about to throw when she saw them coming in through the door. Once they made it inside, he sent Cole straight to his room and went into the living room, where his aunt was sitting on her usual chair watching TV.

“So, look who finally decided to show up. This isn’t a hotel you know.”, said the fat woman looking hatefully at the scrawny teenager.

“I know Aunt Gertrude. Cole had a school event he couldn’t miss, so we stayed out until late.”

The woman sneered at Matt, and then continued watching her show.

“You know misbehavior has consequences right? You were out past dinner time, so there won't be any dinner for you.”

Matt felt the rage coming up from his stomach. He disliked the woman a lot, but he knew she was the only reason the brothers were allowed to stay together. She knew that too, so she made sure to exploit that fact every time she could. He didn’t mind missing dinner, he was used to it. But Cole had to eat, or his stomach would hurt again and he wouldn't be able to sleep.

“I can miss out on dinner today and tomorrow if you want, but let Cole eat something. It was a tough day for him.”

“You should’ve thought that before breaking the rules. Rules are necessary, or else you will end up like your good for nothing dad. He got my sister killed, you know. Only a bad person does that.”

Matt tightened his fists so hard his nails dug into his skin causing some bleeding. His father was his aunt’s favorite subject, always belittling and berating him. But he was a good man, very hardworking. A real example for Matt. His only mistake was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Don’t you dare talk about him…”, he grumbled quietly. His aunt let out a cruel cackle, and glared at him angrily.

“Or what? You are just like him, you know. A useless dead weight under my roof. But not for long. You got one more night. After that, you’re turning into an adult, which means you gotta earn yourself a life.”

Matt had been so busy with his brother that he had completely forgotten about his birthday the day after. His aunt had been telling him she was going to kick him out that same day, but he always thought she said that only to intimidate him. Thinking about leaving Cole with that monster alone sent a chill down his spine.

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking you little asshole? As soon as you’re eighteen, you’re legally not my problem anymore. Besides, it’s good you learn how the world works. Not that your father ever taught you that. In fact, I think Cole was lucky to grow up without his bad example!”, said the woman laughing loudly. “Now, better get your shit ready. I’m calling farmer Joe tomorrow to see if he has some job for you. If you’re lucky he might even let you stay in the barn with the rest of his boys. Now, get out of my sight. My next show’s about to start.”

Matt just turned around and left completely speechless, hearing the loud music from the TV and his aunt laughing as he went upstairs to his room. Cole was already showered and wearing his pajamas, the blue cap still on his head. Matt sat down next to him on his bed, trying to keep his composure and not burst into tears.

“Listen Cole, I have to tell you something,'' he said, his voice faltering as he struggled to find the right words. “You know tomorrow is my birthday, right?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t forget. I even wrote it in my calendar to get you some chocolate.”, he said excitedly before realizing he just ruined the surprise. “Oh no, I just ruined your present.”

“No buddy, it's okay. You know I love chocolate.”, said Matt grabbing the little boy’s head. “But listen, tomorrow I’ll be eighteen. And that's a very special number. So special, that people invite you to participate in certain activities!”

“What do you mean?”, asked Cole with a puzzled look on his face.

“Well, farmer Joe has invited me to his special club on his land, so I’m very excited I can go now. There’s only one small problem, I have to go sleep there too so I can do everything the guys there do.”

Cole just stared at his brother, tears welling up behind his eyes.

“You’re gonna leave?”

“Don’t be sad buddy. This is a great opportunity for me! Besides, I’ll come to visit you every day, I promise.”

Cole threw himself at Matt, his little arms embracing him as strong as they could. Tears ran down his rosy cheeks, and he could barely articulate the words due to the knot in his throat.

“But I don’t want you to go! I don’t want to be alone in this house. I’m scared.”

“I know buddy, I know.”, said Matt hugging his little brother. “But listen, remember what I told you about that cap? As long as you have it, dad’s going to be here with you. And so will I.”

Both brothers embraced for hours, refusing to let each other go. Cole cried until he fell asleep, so Matt tucked him into bed and waited until it was late enough to go down and steal some food for the boy. His aunt went to bed just before midnight, so he had to wait until she was gone to go to the pantry. He was almost falling asleep when he heard the TV going off, and the heavy steps of his aunt going into her room. He hesitantly stepped out of their bedroom, and swiftly went down to get some food for Cole. His body was very light, so that helped him move silently on the wooden floor. He brought up some snacks, leaving them on Cole’s night table, completely missing the clock just striking midnight.

He went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. Taking off the horrible oversized shirt he stared at himself in the mirror. He was practically just skin and bones, lacking the proper nutrition and exercise for a good development during puberty. His dirty blonde hair was pulled back on a bun, looking just a shade darker than his brother’s. His aunt was right, he was pathetic, scrawny and weak. Barely a fitting example for Cole. But he didn’t want his brother to grow up without him. It was already bad enough he had to grow up without a dad, only to have his big brother be taken away too. He wished that both of them could stay together. That he was enough for his little brother, so he could provide him with the life he deserved.

The lights in the bathroom flickered, and the window was suddenly opened by a strong gust of wind, startling Matt. He started to get lightheaded, grabbing the small sink to prevent himself from falling. “It’s probably hunger”, he said to himself. But the more seconds passed, the worse he felt. He started sweating cold, drops falling down his face and his pale body. He watched a shadow creep over his skin, thinking he was starting to faint from starvation. When he raised his hand to touch the darkness, rough bristles greeted his fingertips. He was growing hair, all over his body. He watched it get longer and thicker, a thick mat covering his chest, and crawling down his flat stomach painting a thick treasure trail on his skin. Tufts of hair poked out from under his arms, his sparse armpit hair getting far denser. The shadow then climbed up his neck, fully flourishing on his face to form a short beard. Matt felt its roughness with the palm of his hand, fully enthralled by the sensation.

He then felt his bones elongate, shooting him a few inches towards the roof and lengthening his limbs. He looked like that creature slender-something kids were so obsessed about. Once his skeleton finished its growth, the muscles followed suit. He felt incredible heat emanating from his body, as each muscle twitched and grew to enormous size. Size packed on his chest, fully forming two massive pillow-like pecs sticking out from his torso. His cleavage was so deep he could probably put his entire thumb in it, and probably crush it too if he squeezed hard. Muscle packed on his shoulders as well, growing like two bowling balls. It made him look monstrously wide, fully condemning him to a life of having to go through doors sideways. His arms surged with power and grew as well, fully surpassing the width his legs had before. Thick hairy pythons hung to each side of him, resting at an angle due to the thickness of his triceps. His back then rounded out like a shield and expanded into a hairy muscular landscape. The lats were so big they looked like the could fall off of him at any moment.

He heard his stomach grumble, as it blew forward sticking out just a few inches behind his chest. Thick abs could be seen on the curve of his belly. His ass blew his dress pants into oblivion, each cheek swelling like a Christmas turkey. The legs followed suit, thickening into titanic proportions, powerful enough to sustain such a heavy top. Even his feet grew a few sizes, fully completing his transformation. Matt just stared at his new body speechless, feeling control over each fiber. He flexed his big arms, and bounced his heavy chest. A deep chuckle left his throat, and he realized his voice grew much deeper as well. He was so entertained by his new figure, he missed the clumps of hair falling from his head. His hair thinned out a little bit, and shortened itself into a clean cut, contrasting with its previous unkempt image.

Matt looked like a new man. His kid used to tell him he looked the size of a barn, just like that Disney song he liked from the film with the talking furniture. He was very bad with names, but he knew what movies his son liked. Matt scratched his head, confused by the thought of having a child. He was only eighteen, barely old enough to have a kid. But a body like this couldn’t belong to a young kid. A body like this took years of dedication, of pain and sweat, of discipline. He looked like the perfect dad, strong enough to protect, and big enough to climb over like a jungle gym. Matt smiled looking at himself in the mirror. His features changed and rearranged themselves into those of a masculine man. His nose was bigger and his brow stuck further out. Even a cleft formed on his now square jaw. He looked tough, but also lovable.

The maelstrom of memories fully blew Matt’s mind away, turning him into a perfect dad. He felt his dick snake up under his belly, and his balls drop lower and heavier like a mature plume, virile enough to spread his seed wherever he wanted. The rush of testosterone triggered more changes in him. His muscles got denser, more lived in. Crow feet printed themselves next to his eyes, and his skin got rougher fully aging two full decades.

“I’m one sexy motherfucker.”, grunted Matt, flexing before the mirror. He dedicated years of hard work and discipline to his body, and it showed. He loved the tight feeling of a shirt about to burst due to his titanic arms, or how the buttons popped open on their own due to his heavy chest. But even his glorious physique wasn’t his most valuable treasure. That was his son.

Reality rearranged itself around Matt, as memories of Cole growing up with him changed into those of a father raising his son. He remembered how tiny he looked when he held him in his arms, or how scared he looked when Matt dropped him in kindergarten for the first time. He remembered the recitals, the little league games, the birthday parties, the nights with Cole on his bed due to a nightmare, the camping trips. Everything he did, and had, was for his son. He was happy to grow up next to him, so he could teach him about the same hard work and discipline he put into his own life. Hopefully, Cole would grow up to be a good man like his father. And with those genes, hopefully big and strong too.

When Matt came back to his senses, he was standing in a nicely furnished bathroom. He adjusted the glasses on his face, and checked himself one last time before going out. The short sleeved shirt looked perfectly fitted to his big body, his arms almost ripping the tight sleeves apart. He came out of the bathroom to find the luxurious interior of a suburban home. He wanted his kid to have all his necessities covered. The memory of the tiny house in the woods and the monster within fully erased from existence.

“Come on Cole, you don’t wanna miss out on a good pizza, do you?”, he shouted, his deep bass shaking the foundations of the house.

“I’m coming dad!”

Young Cole came rushing down the stairs. His blonde hair shined brighter, and his blue eyes sparkled with excitement. He took his coat and headed towards the front door, where his dad was waiting for him. Matt noticed the small blue cap on the little table next to the door.

“Aren’t you gonna wear your cap?”, he said, handing it to his son. Cole just smiled at his dad, and turned the cap away.

“I’m not scared anymore dad. I don’t need it.”

Matt just smiled and opened the door for Cole. The happy family then headed out into the sunshine to live the rest of their lives together. Nothing would be able to separate them.

[and-stir-the-stars]

Hey, bestie! I liked ur answer to the Ace CasMick ask, and I was wondering how do u think tht situation would b different with Sam and Cas's relationship (in general)?

Hiya, Bri!

First things first, I should probably clarify that all I did was ask what Cas and Mick's relationship would look like if Cas was ace, @ autisticdadcastiel is actually the one who gave such a lovely answer to the question <3

If Cas were to come out as ace to Sam, obviously Sam would be 100% supportive. To me, sastiel has always been an asexual ship. I think of Cas as a sex-repulsed asexual in general; there are some romantic relationships with Cas where I think he'd display sex-favorable tendencies, but I just don't get that vibe from sastiel. Their relationship isn't about sex at all; it's about shared trauma and pain, it's about constantly pushing each other to be better people, and believing in each other when they have no one else in their corners. I think Sam would see sex as a means of connecting and opening up to his romantic partners, but Sam would also know that there are tons of other equally meaningful ways to do that with Cas, so to Sam, accommodating Cas' sex repulsion isn't a big deal for him. If anything, Cas trusting Sam with his boundaries and giving Sam the opportunity to respect them would be just as important and meaningful a way of connecting with Cas in Sam's eyes.

I don't think Cas would have easy access to the term asexual, or know that there's a community of people just like him. Cas doesn't have very many friends outside of Sam and Dean, unfortunately, so a lot of what he knows about the modern world he would have learned through books, tv, and the Winchesters instead of other, real-life conversations and friendships, and this would probably impact his view on sex and sexuality. Cas might be able to figure out on his own that he doesn't seem to experience sexual attraction, so if he were to come out to Sam, he would have to explain his actual feelings (or lack thereof) instead of being able to use the word ace, because he isn't likely to know that such a term exists. He'd probably be extremely nervous about it, not knowing that what he experiences is common enough to have a whole community of people like him behind it. But, again, Sam would accept him 100% and make sure that Cas knows he accepts and loves him, and that he wants his and Cas' relationship to be about developing the connection that they already have together rather than forcing something into the relationship that one or neither of them wants.

Sam and Cas are probably the type of couple to stay up all night together. They don't mean to, but sometimes Sam can't sleep or they just lose track of time, and they end up star gazing or reading books together all night long, curled up in each other's arms. Cas is phenomenally good at art (he's had thousands of years of practice with painting, sculpting, weaving, etc while walking amongst various human cultures throughout history!) and Sam adores it; Cas tries to give Sam pointers and lessons but Sam... doesn't do the best at it. Not that Cas even notices; everything Sam does is amazing in Cas' eyes.

Sam is constantly shooting Cas little prayers 24/7, even if they're standing right next to each other; Sam will try to make Cas laugh by making jokes (especially jokes about Dean; Sam's the little brother and cannot help himself, also those jokes make Cas laugh the most), he'll give Cas little updates about his day, sometimes he doesn't even mean to pray, it just happens subconsciously ("just gonna finish one more lap on my jog around town, then I'll stop at the pizza place and finally start making my way home..."), sometimes it's stuff as simple as "I'm on a walk right now and there's this cute dog here, I really think you'd like her, she makes me think of you."

They'll curl up next to each other on the couch or on Sam's bed to watch Netflix, their legs tangled together and Cas' head lying on Sam's chest (Cas tries to let Sam put his head on Cas' chest but Sam absolutely insists that Cas do it; sometimes they'll compromise by having Cas lay his head on Sam's shoulder then having Sam lean his head to rest on top of Cas'). Most of the time they're barely paying attention to the show, though, because something in the background or dialogue will spark a conversation between them that makes them forget Netflix is even playing ("Why do so many people seem to have gone to high school in movies, Sam? It's mandatory in America? Is high school really like the way they portray it in movies?" / "Cas, how accurately did they portray the 14th century in that movie? How do you know? You were there? Why? What did you do there?"/ etc).

I think that's the crux of Sam and Cas' relationship, really: talking. Being curious, being open, wanting to learn everything about each other, wanting to learn everything about the world(s) around them, and be able to share the wonders that they learn and experience with each other.

[hot-wiings]

The One Where After His Recovery, Tensei Iida realizes Life Is To Precious And Short. 

Requested By: Wattpad User

Edited: 1-13-2021

"You can do it!"

You yelled out to Tensei Iida from the top of a hill. It wasn't very steep, it was a slow gradual incline. He was at the bottom of the hill in his wheelchair trying to push himself up alone. This was all part of his long recovery from the attack on him in Hosu. The attack that left him crippled. The attack that forced him to take early retirement.

He knew was never going to get his ability to walk back, he had given up on that long before his younger brother got Recovery Girl, his school nurse, to try and help him. Tensei knew how her quirk worked, and if the best of the best, the woman with the greatest medic type quirk couldn't heal him, nothing would.

"Tensei, babe! You got this!"

Tensei tried to push on the handles attached to the wheels of his chair and push up the hill. He knew he’d never get his walk back, all he could do now was work on adjusting to his new life. Adjust to wheelchairs, adjust to never using his legs again, adjust to getting taken care of for the rest of his life. He tried but it was futile, going uphill was just so hard on his own. He wasn’t there yet, wasn’t strong enough yet.

He hated this. He absolutely hated this. He hated depending on you. You were giving everything up for him. You barely worked anymore, you were always with him. You ran around and did errands for him. You went grocery shopping, you did his laundry, you did his dishes, you helped him get in the bath, and you wheeled him around. You were constantly accommodating your schedule and life for him. He was sick of it. You were his girlfriend, not his caretaker. He hated helplessly watching as people had to accommodate him, but he hated it most watching you give up everything.

"I can't do it! Can we find a smaller hill?!"

You jogged down the hill with a smile on your face. Why were you always smiling? Didn't you realize what a burden he was? How awful your life was going to be constantly taking care of him? You’d started to hate him, and your sex life wasn't going to be what it used to be.

"I don't see why you're in such a rush to push yourself around. The doctor said it’s going to take time to get used to it, besides we live together, I'm always gonna be there to help you. Getting sick of me already?"

You grabbed the handles on the top of Tensei’s wheelchair and turned him around. Further away from the hill he couldn't get over and closer towards the busy streets of Japan. Tensei clenched his fists as he tried to answer you. You'd been together since high school, years of your relationship taught him that there were going to be ups and downs, it taught him he needed to be honest above all else. He wanted to be honest, he wanted to tell you how much of a burden he was, but he didn't want to lose you. Not after all these years, not after how much you meant to him.

"I don't want to always depend on you. I... I don't like this. I don't like you always pushing me around, you should be focusing on your career. If I just push myself, then I’d be able to get groceries on my own, I could go run the errands instead."

"Don't say it like that."

You pushed the wheelchair up to a busy road and pressed the button on the street lamp. You walked in front of the chair and squatted down so you could talk to Tensei on a more equal level. You grabbed onto his hands as your eyes met and you gave Tensei a warm smile.

"You're not a burden, so don't act like it. I like running around and doing errands for you. We live together, and groceries are a need for us both so don't act like it's some inconvenience."

You stood back up and stretched out your body, tired limbs stretching as you arched your back. Pushing Tensei could get tiring sometimes, but only because you lacked the muscles to push all his body mass around.  

"As for my career, I'm a writer. It can done from home."

"You're a news writer. You need to be out in the streets, reporting news. Not on the couch, editing your college's work from a shared google docs document. They get all the credit, and you don't."

You crossed your arms and huffed at your boyfriend. He was being stupid. Stupid and unfair. After all the years you'd been together, after junior high and high school, after college and getting your first jobs. He should've known by now how much he meant to you. He should've known how important and priceless to you he was. He should've known you weren't letting him go, crippled or not.

"I am a news writer, but news gets boring very quickly. Maybe I’ll write a book instead. 'Love For Dummies', how is that for a title?"

"Just because you've been in a long stable relationship doesn't mean you can write that. People who switch jobs like that are unhappy."

"I’m referring to you, you dumbass!"

You and Tensei had begun yelling at each other, heatedly pointing and scowling, not even caring that citizens and bystanders were staring at you. In your heat of rage, you had stomped your foot and stepped on a pebble. It knocked you off balance and you began to slip back into the busy road. Without thinking, Tensei used his hands and with all his might he pushed his chair forward, grabbed your shirt, and pulled you onto him before rolling backward.

"You're so dumb. Are you trying to die or just get crippled like me? You should've taken the back streets, you could've ride."

"I slipped, it was an accident, I'm sorry."

Your body felt uncomfortable being sprawled out on top of Tensei haphazardly. You felt like you were crushing his legs, but you knew he couldn't feel them anyway. Your little sniffles drew Tensei’s attention to you. 

"Hey, don't cry. I'm sorry, you’re not dumb."

"It’s not that, I just... You think I'm unhappy with you?"

Tensei ran his fingers through your hair, and you tried to hold back your tears. It just hurt. It hurt knowing that your partner felt so hopeless and feeling so fruitless, and you couldn't do anything.

"I know you're unhappy, you just don’t realize it yet. There are so many news breaks that happened the past few weeks, and you couldn’t catch any of them because you were with me. You’re missing out on your dreams, you’re gonna realize it after all your opportunity is gone and you'll be so unhappy."

"You're so wrong. I'm not gonna be unhappy. I'll never be unhappy with you. I only ever became a news writer because you became a hero. It’s so stupid, I know, but after you told me you were going to be a hero I decided to be a news writer. That way, even if we broke up, I’d still be able to chase after you. I don’t care what kind of life it is, I want you Tensei. Tensei, you were my first love, and I’ll be damned if anyone but you is my last."

You tried to pull yourself up off of Tensei, sure your added weight must be hurting him somehow despite not having legs, but he wrapped his arms around you to keep you there.

"I wasn't planning on asking you this, but it appeared to me that life is short. Will you marry me?"

"Yes, yes. God yes. A million times yes. We're gonna have your brother as the best man, and we'll invite your old coworkers, and god, we have to tell your mom, she's gonna be so excite-"

Tensei presses his lips against yours frantically, you both smile into the kiss and pull apart before erupting in laughter. You were completely oblivious from the forming crowd. Oblivious to the people, the people who recognised Tensei Iida, the newly retired Ingenium. Oblivious to the crowd holding up their phones and recording your near death proposal, all that mattered was each other.

"Let's go home first, okay? Then we can start planning."