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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

sparks and embers - chapter 4

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 4 - Fun

Words: 5.7k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: The biggest warning I can give is that this was my first ever attempt at smut - ever. Mutual masturbation, one party technically unconsented.

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

It was paradise and torture, all rolled into one.

He looked unbearably delicious sitting on the ‘fresher stool, facing away, towel draped carefully below his waist. Steam rose in swirling clouds from the floor around him, making the air heavy as I drew in slow, measured breaths.

Poe didn’t look up as I moved past the open curtain, and I could only assume it was because he felt as uneasy as I did. Without much control over myself, my eyes traced the droplets wriggling down his back over his now unwound muscles, wanting nothing more than to draw my fingers over, to feel his smooth skin on the tips.

It was all so enticing, and the throb in my centre becoming harder to ignore. I was forced to put more thought into my movements as I stepped towards the shelf in front of Poe, wondering if he noticed the side glances I attempted to get a better view.

Now is not the time Alexys.

The remark shook me back into sensible thinking, realising Poe was in a vulnerable position, and he trusted me enough to see him like this. He wouldn’t want to be gawked at - he genuinely needed assistance.

With a newfound sense of responsibility, I took the shampoo from the shelf and rounded back behind Poe’s head, his hair glistening with moisture, looking at nothing but my hands. He was silent along with me, probably bracing himself for this stranger to mangle their fingers awkwardly into his hair.

I squirted a stream of liquid shampoo on his head, the icy temperature of it making him tense for a moment, noticing when he raised his bandaged hand to grasp the side railing of the chair. Timidly I began to run my fingers through the portion of I’d covered, building the soap up into a foam, continuing to spread it through the rest of his wettened mop.

There was a warmth that soon arrived, spreading through my chest as I drew my fingers in and out, a warmth that felt less salacious and more… kind. And it would have stayed that way if Poe hadn’t hummed a low moan.

Oh maker, you are not making this easy.

As soon as it bristled past his lips he bolted upright.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, evidently surprised himself at the sound he’d made. “No one has washed my hair before, I mean if you don’t count my parents when I was a child. It just felt... nice.”

I didn’t respond, making the air hang thick with our silence. Nothing I could say was going to make the moment any less awkward for the both of us.

After briefly stopping the twirling movement of my fingers following the… sound, I continued my lather over his scalp, making sure every particle of dirt, sweat and most likely blood was caught in the froth of soap.

When content with my work I reached over his shoulder and unhooked the detachable shower head, my eyes still trained on anything other than his bare skin. After angling it down, I pressed the start button on the handle, the flow of water hitting my bare feet as I made sure the water was an acceptable temperature before letting the cascade of soapy water rush down his spine.

With my hand I began to guide him to tilt back so I could safely wash out the soap just above his forehead. In this position I could see more of his face, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, eyebrows wrinkled like he was uncomfortable.

“Is the water too hot?” I peeped, pulling the shower head away.

His eyes opened in a flash, startled by my question. “No! Not at all! I was just lost in thought about… Uh… How to fix BB-8. It’s fine, really.” He shifted in the chair, his bandaged arm still gripping onto the rail while his casted arm rested rigidly over his lap. As I moved the water stream back to his hair, his eyes closed again, this time without the tautness I’d noticed before.

After all the shampoo had been thoroughly rinsed I began the process again, only this time with conditioner. I didn’t ask if he actually wanted it, since it was more out of my own habit, but he didn’t stop me when I grabbed the bottle and jetted the thicker liquid into his hair, continuing to slowly massage it into his tresses.

It became somewhat relaxing, methodically weaving my fingers to evenly spread the silky lotion to every strand. He moved uneasily again, and I noticed the hand holding the rail was clutching tightly, his bicep tensed hard.

Maybe I’m terrible at this.

Deciding it was time to finish this embarrassing experience, I started up the water and rinsed Poe’s head free of conditioner, again seeing the strain washing over his face as he leaned back, like he was trying to conceal it from my view.

I rustled a fresh towel over his scalp, leaving his hair only slightly dampened. “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” I mumbled. “I’m not used to washing patients’ hair.”

Poe immediately twisted his torso, looking up to my face. I gritted my teeth as I registered his contracted abdominals. “What are you talking about? You didn’t hurt me.”

My eyes flickered to his arm. “You just seemed really... tense.”

“Uh,” Poe mouthed, the sound muted. I watched his eyes move down my chest, pupils swollen against his brown irises. He didn’t continue. He seemed lost for words.

I followed the trail his stare had made down my torso, sucking in an alarmed breath. I’d diverted so much of my thoughts towards Poe I hadn’t recognised the spray of water that’d soaked through my white cotton shirt, my bra now starkly visible through the dampened fabric. The cloth clung tightly to the curves of my breasts, leaving extremely little to imagination.

Of-fracking-course.

I laughed. A body shaking cackle that bounced off the tiled walls around us.

Any embarrassment in me simmered to hilarity at the thought of Poe’s face with my chest readily on show. His illuminating smile continued to flash as he chuckled along with me, and I couldn’t help but relish in it for the moments in which we continued to snicker.

When my laughter died down, I sighed, not exactly attempting to cover myself. He’d already seen what I had on display. “Well I think I’ve done just about as much as I can,” I jested, a smirk still drawn on my lips. “Do you think you can get yourself dressed? There are more night-clothes in the cupboard behind you.”

“I think I can manage,” he grinned back, seemingly relieved at the disruption from whatever tension had risen during this whole endeavour.

And with that, I sauntered out from the ‘fresher, closing the door gently behind me. My heart pounded to the beats of memories dashing into my mind, barely able to strangle a coherent understanding of everything I’d felt. It was all I could deliberate on as I entered my living quarters at the end of the hall and changed into new shirt - navy blue this time. My mind desperately tried to collect all the emotions I had experienced in the last 30 minutes and render some form of comprehension from them.

It was clear, I’d grown unprofessionally attached to Poe, so quickly, and more than any other human I’d encountered.

You like him.

It was a simple answer, yet it felt childish, to have developed a juvenile-like crush so soon after our meeting. I knew it was more to do with his appearance than our limited interactions, even though they were still somewhat endearing. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d experienced any of this heart fluttering emotion.

There were a few men that littered my past, but I had yet to experience the all-consuming, overwhelming need for someone that made people do irrational things, and I was sure no-one had ever thought of me in that way.

Only fleetingly had I endured any type of loneliness during my time on Raxus, and it usually passed as I woke to a new day - my work and my patients being wonderful distractions. I’d become so independent, so self-sufficient, that I never yearned to have someone become the centre of my universe.

Come now Alexys. You know that is not the reason why.

I gripped the sheets at the edge of my bed I had found myself sitting on.

You cannot let anyone too close. Not unless you want them to die along with you.

Before I could let the voice cause me to dive into an ocean of panic, I heard the ‘fresher door click closed.

“Alex?” Poe called from the hallway.

My feet planted onto the floor as I stood, letting the anxiety dissipate into the air around me. “Back here Poe.” I listened to his footsteps plod along the floor as he limped towards my living quarters, along with a few quiet huffs of effort. When he came into view at the entrance he still looked as appealing as before, even without his bare skin on show.

“You live in your clinic?” he questioned, looking around the apartment style quarters I’d constructed with the help of a few locals.

It was simple, efficient. The sizable room had everything a normal home would contain, all pulled into one. Kitchenette and dining table to the left, living room with a small two-seater sofa at the back wall, and my bed and closet to the right. A door leading to an ensuite ‘fresher was in the far right corner, one I only used if an overnighter patient was with me.

“It’s so I can still monitor a patient’s condition when they’re unable to return home yet. Remember, I’m the only doctor for thousands of kilometres.” I motioned to the holoscreen on my bedside table that would usually be displaying the vitals for any patients connected to monitor lines. There were only flat lines and zeros there now.

Poe cocked his head. “You don’t ever stop do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Being a doctor, looking after people. Even in your own quarters you’re still in that mode.” He hobbled further into the room, taking in the space around him.

“I’m sure you’re the same with your work for the Resistance.”

“True,” he conceded. “Being in the middle of a war tends to do that to people.”

I couldn’t hold back a cynical snort.

His eyebrows crinkled together. “What did that mean?”

Kriff. I wish I hadn’t done that.

“I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Just tell me,” he grumbled.

I pressed my lips into a hard line. I didn’t really want to start a heated discussion about the futility of this war with a Resistancepilot. But from the interactions I’d had with Poe so far, I doubted he was going to let this go.

“It’s just… Don’t you see the pointlessness of it all? Even if you overcome the First Order – how long will it be before another enemy rises up, or your new leaders become the same ruthless dictators themselves?” My voice grew less apprehensive, straightening myself into a more confident pose. “People are fickle. They change. Their emotions rule them beyond anything else, and because of that they can be manipulated so easily. People who swore fealty to one side can be dragged onto the other. The cycle never ends. There will always be more war, more fighting, more innocent deaths.”

Poe stared at me, bewildered. “You think it’s pointless to fight back against the First Order? People who conquer or destroy planets simply for more power? You’d rather we let them do as they please, letting billionsof innocent people die?”

“No of course not-” I started, already regretting every word I’d said.

“But that’s what you just implied, isn’t it? How can a doctorhave such a bleak view of the galaxy?”

I sighed, more at myself for opening my big mouth. “I’m just a realist Poe. People fight, we can’t help it. And those with the most power will fight to keep it, no matter how. I’ve just… I’ve seen too many people die, or damaged for the rest of their lives, for me to think war can ever generate peace.”

Poe’s eyes narrowed, his demeanour darkening. “You don’t think I’ve seen people, my friends, die or horribly injure themselves? You don’t think I’ve seen what war does? I still want to keep on fighting. I haveto. For the people that I’ve lost, who gave their lives for the rest of us, and the people I could save. Because people deserve a galaxy without a tyrant like Kylo Ren deciding who should live and who should die. Somehow, in your eyes, you think it’s pointless to even try?”

I didn’t have any type of acceptable answer. It was rude of me to point out the flaws of war with someone who had risked their life, and most likely come close to death because of it. “I’m… sorry Poe,” I insisted softly, settling back down on the edge of the bed. “It’s not my place to give my opinion on matters like this. I truly apologise if I offended you.”

I glanced up from twiddling fingers to see his delicately confused expression. He exhaled loudly, as he wobbled painfully to one of the chairs of the circular dining table across the room, straightening his injured leg out to rest it.

“I’m sorry too," he said, exhaling. “I’ve been living my life with the Resistance for so long I forgot there might be people who don’t believe in the cause like we do.”

“It makes sense,” I remarked. “Sometimes you get caught up in the bubble of the world around you, it’s hard to see beyond it.”

He nodded. “That’s very true.”

We sat in silence for a moment, both letting the heated exchange dry out into passing memories. Poe continued to peer around the room, his eyes scanning with a subtle scrutiny. “So what do you do when you’re not being a doctor?” he asked, the fierceness from before completely replaced by his normal cheerful tone.

“You mean in my free time?”

“Yeah. Do you have anything that keeps your mind away from all that... doctor work?”

I felt my face crinkle into confusion. “I… I don’t really.”

His expression mirrored mine. “You don’t have any hobbies? Something you do just for fun?”

“Uh…” I started, raking through my brain for anything I did outside the realm of my work. “Huh. I guess I don’t. I may just be the most boring person alive.”

Poe chuckled, and shook his head. “That’s definitely not true.” He met my eyes, flashing me a comforting grin. “You’re just hyper-focused on your work. Trust me, I get that. Sometimes all I even dream about are war council sessions and my ship interface. But you’ve got to switch off eventually, otherwise you’ll go insane.”

I was slightly dubious at that sentiment, since I’d made it over 4 years without slipping into insanity, but Poe’s question made me take check. Truthfully, I couldn’t remember the last time I had fun, when I felt joy in something other than making ill people better again.

Poe could see my face begin to fall. “Hey come on, let’s try now. You’ve only got me as a patient, and I am in no need for your treatment right now. Think of something you used to do, or always wanted to, and we can have a go of it together.”

His sudden eagerness to help made my heart swell. “Uh... sure. Okay.”

Poe nodded once without speaking, urging me to search through my mind for an idea. But it was hard to think when I kept looking at his face, now melted into an enthusiastic smile. I made my eyes glare at my feet, since they would be significantly less distracting while I attempted to think of a supposedly fun activity.

Even when I’d finished my work for the day, on the rare occasion I had no overnighters staying with me, I simply returned to these quarters to have dinner and prepare myself for sleep. In the moments between, all I tended to do was read over current news and research on my data pad, sometimes flicking through medical texts if I was stumped on how to deal with a patient’s condition, especially when it came to rarer alien species. Generally, I would be so tired from the day that I never needed to pass my time with anything remotely hobby based. My focus would be to eat, use the ‘fresher and settle into an easy slumber.

And in this singular moment, I realised how monotonous it all was.

Poe saw me struggling, although probably not knowing it was at the realisation that I had no idea what fun was anymore. “Okay, how about games? Surely you’ve played at least one holo or card game in your life?”

“Well yeah, but that was years ago, and I don’t have any-” I stopped mid-sentence, the flicker of a memory rising into my mind’s view. “Wait here a second.” Hopping up from my bed, I made my way to the office, switching on the light. A large wooden desk sat in the centre, littered with old patient notes I had been in the middle of updating when my life had been so suddenly interrupted with Poe’s appearance.

I ignored them to walk towards the storage cupboard behind it. It took a few minutes of rummaging through stacks of files and old pieces of obsolete medical equipment to find what I’d come in here for - a small, rectangular metal case the size of my two hands, snatching it from the shelf I’d mindlessly placed it on nearly 3 years ago.

Bringing it back with me into my quarters, I quickly sat at the dining table next to Poe, who turned to face me with a look of intrigue. I opened the case, exposing the contents inside. “An old patient of mine gifted this to me, promised to teach me how to play. He… never got the chance to.”

My mind wandered in the memory of the older gentleman who had been struck down with Quannot’s syndrome, only lasting a few days before his unavoidable death. I recalled how much I mourned his passing, distressed at how little I could do to ease his pain before he left this world.

“Sabbac!” Poe burst, interrupting my sombre reminiscing.

I shook myself back into the current reality. “You know how to play?”

“Of course, almost every being in the galaxy knows how,” he scoffed. Only after he noticed me shifting awkwardly in my seat did he realise what he’d said. “Uh, sorry. Come on, I’ll teach you.” He continued to pull the cards out of the case, laying them out face up in a specific order. “Okay, so this is the Flask suit...”

If we were playing for real money, Poe would have put me in the red.

“23? Again? You’re definitely cheating,” I grumbled, huffing into my seat, not for the first time of the evening. After I’d grasped the basic concept of the game, we’d played for hours, time passing quickly in the midst of bluffing and strategy.

Poe was evidently enjoying the immaturity of my tantrum, laughing softly as he pulled the last of my chips towards his already immense pile. “I guess beginner’s luck didn’t really work out for you in this case,” he sniggered.

I pouted, watching him stack the chips neatly in coloured towers. “Well, I’m out. You took me for all I’ve got.”

“But didn’t you have fun?”

I nodded and grinned, conceding even when I’d been horrendously beaten, but was a combination of both him and the game we’d played that made me feel an unfamiliar contentment warm my body. I eyed him marvelling his chips, an expression of pride filling his features. “You really like winning, don’t you?”

“Being with the Resistance, you kind of get used to savouring the wins when they occur. Doesn’t happen exceedingly often.” His thoughts seemed to drift away, and in his face I knew he was pondering over the state of affairs back at base with him missing.

“I have no doubt they’ll be searching day and night for you,” I soothed, hoping I guessed correctly.

Poe attempted a smile, but it dissolved when a large sigh breathed past his lips. “I’m doing my best not to worry. The people there, they’re all smart and capable, but we had a plan… and I haven’t been able to see it through. We were running out of time as it is. I can only imagine how concerned they'll be after not receiving a report in over two day cycles.”

“It’ll be okay,” I said softly, tentatively placing a hand on his upper arm, above where I’d placed the plastic cast. “I know it sounds kind of naïve, but when I’m overwhelmed, especially in my work, I break everything down into smaller problems, and try to face the most pressing one. The big picture doesn’t matter, it’s all about solving the most concerning challenge at the time. And little by little, the whole situation becomes… easier.”

“It does sound a little naïve. But… I like it.”

“It worked for me when I was trying to save you.” I gave his arm a reassuring squeeze.

Poe didn’t respond. He seemed to ruminate in his own mind, his mouth in a forced, hard line. I watched as his eyes glanced down to where my palm rested around his bicep, then back to me.

His gaze was suddenly heated, smouldering, so intense it locked me into place, a ribbon of flames darting through my veins. I noticed the speckles of gold hidden through his irises, as it occurred to me how close our bodies had become during the time spent sitting at the dining table. The air around felt dense, the only sound I could register my own gradual breathing.

Poe's vision wouldn’t move from mine, his blazing stare a stark difference from the rest of his softened features. It felt as if his movements were in slow motion, the way he lifted his bandaged arm, a hand reaching up to my face.

I remained unmoving, even when my entire being began to flicker with electricity, igniting sparks at every nerve ending on my skin. Fingertips finally touched my cheek, grazing over it so delicately, yet still making the energy glowing through me intensify, as if trying to break free from my body.

Poe began to lean closer, and unconsciously I mirrored his movement, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips on mine.

Stop this Alexys. Stop it now.

The voice caused me to jerk backwards, pulling myself away from Poe’s touch, rising abruptly out of the chair. “This is… this is inappropriate,” I peeped, rushing directly to my ensuite ‘fresher, clicking the door closed. With my back pressed against the door, I slid slowly down until my rear hit the tiled floor.

I could still feel the heat of Poe’s fingertips on my cheek, a painful reminder of what I’d run away from. But the echo of what the voice had demanded still rattled through, and I knew it was right. I knew I couldn’t let myself get too close - I couldn’t give in to the sudden desire that had shimmered inside my chest.

It would cost me my safety, my work, my purpose of being. I’d risked everything to get here, given up all I knew of home. I wouldn’t let it all be in vain on the whim of my emotions.

There was no way to stop it, the lone tear that strolled down my cheek. It was a mere fraction of the sobs I wanted to express, both despair and frustration gripping me in a strangling hold.

With shaking palms held front of me, I traced each creased line in the flesh with my eyes. Not for the first time, I cursed at the energy that flowed through them, unlocked from the depths of my consciousness and healed those who needed it the most, those who would have otherwise died when even the greatest medical care couldn’t save them.

I’d kept it hidden for my whole life, the Force I’d been born with and couldn’t escape from. I’d concealed it from everyone, including my parents, keeping a far enough distance to hold my secret within my mind.

Only two outcomes came with exposure. One being I would be recruited, trained as a Jedi and guilted by the Resistance to join a war I didn’t believe in. The other being hunted by the Sith, or any kind of dark side user, and killed for showing any type of prowess with the Force like so many younglings before, or swayed into the war to fight on their behalf.

There was no way either side would allow me to slip from their grasp once they knew. They would never tolerate my neutrality and let me stay here in the countryside of an Outer Rim planet, doing exactly what I wanted to do. Heal.

Why me? Why did this have to happen to me?

Because you do not want it.

That’s cruel.

Such is life.

I wasn’t sure how long I spent sitting on the ‘fresher floor, ceaselessly on the verge of tears, yet never allowing the emotion to fully break. A creeping feeling of humiliation had started to filter in a short time ago as I recounted over and over how abruptly I’d run from Poe.

My eyes hadn’t caught the glimpse his face after I wrenched myself away from his hand, yet all I could do was imagine it now, features struck with shock and rejection. I’d barely heard him leave my quarters after I’d shut myself away, faintly recalling his right leg still making a larger thumping sound when he walked into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

That memory had taken place hours ago, and my body was beginning to ache after another large portion of time connected to hard tile.

The only thing I wished for now was the comfort of my bed, to sleep away this evening and wake to a fresh day. But I couldn’t. There was still a patient to look after. I needed check on Poe’s condition, update vitals, make sure his wounds were still healing. For my own benefit, I would rather wait for the morning when some of the lingering awkwardness would have dissipated, but there was no possibility of sleep without being sure he was still in good health.

Plus, I hadn’t told him about the food supplies waiting in the clinic cupboard. Being so distracted by playing cards I'd never made us dinner, and he needed all the sustenance he could get to heal properly.

With a fragile resolve to get it done and over with, I peeled myself from my sitting position, joints popping at the movement after being inactive for so long. I peered slowly through the door, on the small chance Poe was out there waiting to greet me, but it was just the empty quarters that filled my view.

For a reason I couldn’t discern, I began to tread lightly towards the hallway door, the stillness of night sending a quick shiver down my spine. Before opening it I glanced back at my chronometer on the bedside table.0200.

He was probably asleep by now.

Hesitation washed through me, knowing if that were true I shouldn’t go poking him awake just to assess basic vitals. But the urge was too strong, pushing me to step into the hallway, tip-toeing cautiously over the floor.

I was halfway down when I heard Poe’s low exhale echo through the passageway.

Hm, maybe he was dreaming.

My movements halted, waiting for another sound to confirm my guess. Soon enough, a louder sigh floated towards my ears, tainted with an emotion I couldn’t name.

I continued to tread ever so lightly towards the clinic entrance, noticing the lights had been shut off except for the lamp at Poe’s bedside softly illuminating the room. I shifted carefully closer, almost at the doorway, Poe’s relaxed breaths still filling my ears as I took nimble steps towards the noise.

When a low, breathy moan swirled into the air, my body froze.

The fire in my lower abdomen crackled to life at the sound, making my limbs heavy, locking me where I stood, hidden from view.

Another moan, louder this time, rumbled past Poe’s lips, and I savoured the way it hit my body. My hearing strained to collect every wavelength of sound coming from just outside the hallway entrance. There was movement, a rustling of fabric of some sort, a slight creak of the bed frame.

I could feel my throat growing tighter, fearful of my breath alerting him to my presence, as the realisation of what was happening - what he was doing - finally dug its claws into my skin.

Poe groaned in pleasure as I began to recognise the sound of a repetitive slippery motion over flesh, the flames inside bursting into an inferno, the fever hottest between my legs.

I leant my back on the hallway wall closest to Poe’s hospital bed, fearing my knees would buckle underneath me. His breathing became faster, more passionate, as the pace of his movement grew more rapid.

Inside my mind, I was bombarded with hypothetical images of his body in the next room, a strong hand gripped tightly around the shaft of his length, shifting up and down. The gasps he continued to make fell into time with my imagination, the sound of skin making a slicking friction keeping rhythm with the urgent pumping of his hand I visualised with impeccable realism.

My fingernails scraped at the wall, eyelids shut tightly while Poe’s delicious moans sent shockwaves through my circulatory system. I’d never felt so much lust in my life, knowing if I caught any other male in this vulnerable position I would have scuttled away quickly, mortified. Yet the reality of Poe touching himself a few metres away, not knowing I was here listening to his rising pleasure, made an urgent craving throb between my legs, one that needed to be relieved. Now.

Little care had been paid to my sexual needs in the last 4 years on this planet. Suddenly, it felt like I had to give into it otherwise I might die.

Poe’s breath hitched, a sharp inhale indicating he was getting closer to his peak. The singular noise made me slip my hand down past the border of my leggings and under my panties, sliding a finger down in between my folds. A slick moisture was waiting, more than I’d ever felt in previous encounters.

Dragging two fingers through it, preparing myself, Poe’s groans became hungrier, desperate. As soon as I began the motion of relieving the ache below, fingers gliding gently over my swollen clit, the flames fizzled, only to be replaced with an immense sparkle of electricity radiating from low in my core.

I inhaled sharply, like Poe had done, and hoped he was too lost in his own pleasure to notice the sound I’d made. When the steady noise of his hand running smoothly over his shaft continued without pause, I knew I’d not broken my cover.

My thoughts intensified to him, envisioning his arm tensing as he held himself within his grasp, his chest bare with muscles contracting along with his movements, a thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin.

Fingertips slid quickly back and forth over my pleasure point as I pictured his face contorted in both effort and enjoyment, his mouth opening only slightly as luscious groans seeped from his throat. I grit my teeth to stop from moaning myself, an undeniable bliss growing stronger with each swirling motion. My chest heaved through silent breaths I couldn’t articulate with noise, mind muddled with overwhelming images of every part of Poe’s body I so desperately wanted to see with my own eyes.

But I refused to move. I didn’t want to break the course of the moment, wishing for nothing more than to hear the sound of his release, knowing it would push me into my own. He wasn’t rushing into it, almost as if savouring this time alone, moans rising only to fall as he slowed his pace again.

I didn’t do the same.

The circling over my clitoris continued to accelerate, tiny instances of my waiting climax peeking their way out every so often, telling me I was getting closer to falling over the edge.

My legs were shaking, being held up by pure resolve to prevent any noise resonating from my body. Poe was speeding up his movement again, but this time he didn’t slow, stuttered sighs escaping his chest, and it hastened my climbing pleasure. I was close, I could feel the tipping point bubbling under the surface of my skin.

Slowly, I heard him growl a few barely comprehensible words.

“Ugh… Alex... yes...”

My release abruptly exploded through me at the sound of my name on his lips, pleasure pulsing in overflowing waves over every portion of flesh. Front teeth bit hard into my bottom lip, preventing the whine I desperately wanted to set free. It was the most intense sensation I’d ever felt, sparks flickering in both the deepest part of my core and the nerves of my limbs, making me shiver in delight.

Quickly, I was all too sensitive, pulling my fingers away, eyeing the sheen of moisture that covered them. My attention was again caught in Poe’s moaning, as he too reached his peak, muted gasps coming in jolts as he finally came, obviously attempting much like me not to make any excessive noise.

Eventually he began to heave in relief, breaths hissing gradually through his teeth. We both stayed in our positions for a minute or so, relishing in the afterglow of our separate orgasms, the flames I’d felt down below settling into smouldering embers.

I was mulling over the pleasure I’d gone without for years, when I heard Poe rustle in his bed, feet softly plodding on the floor. It took two steps for me to finally realise.

He’s coming this way.

Next Chapter

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tonya-the-chicken · 3 years

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I’m not going to change your views but it does feel a bit dismissive when you say it wasn’t that bad because he had rich parents who neglected him but hey they got a maid for him and he probably wasn’t outcasted or bullied so hey it’s not that bad right 🤷‍♀️! I don’t know he definitely didn’t have the worse out of the villains but I don’t know it felt a bit dismissive is all. Although we need to all remember these are fictional characters so have no idea why the other anon needed to get so aggressive! Also the person in the notes I don’t know how to say it but uh the whole the Todoroki’s had a rich father they didn’t have to work a day in their life take is not a good look. Just because someone has parents with money it doesn’t derail the fact that neglect can cause trauma.

Anyways for the real reason I sent this, you wonder why Dabi is so insane. Well take into account the neglect alongside the fact that he burnt to near death up on that hill alone at the age of what 13? That’s got to be extra traumatising, especially for a child that was already not mentally ok. We also don’t know what his circumstances were like after that fire, like was he homeless? Or picked up by someone nefarious? Kind of like AFO(not him exactly but someone nasty) who maybe fed on his brewing anger and hate instead of positive healing. I’m sure we will find out at some point? I don’t think it was just what happened in the Todoroki household or the fire that broke his mind? There had to be other factors after the fire after his “death”!

[[WARNING!!! I love Dabi as a character but I am not a woobifier so if you are too much into him don't read!!!! No complaints taken, y'all will be blocked for being rude I am too old to deal with people unable to interact with me in good faith (anon it's not for you, you are good and I can't understand your point of view I am just not as good as a person and too old for that shit)]]

I don't think I will change my mind either but I feel like the belief that every trauma is equally bad is just... Simply wrong. Like, we can legit compare this stuff and how badly it affects our brain, what do y'all think psychologists research 🤷‍♀️ Like, your therapist won't tell you this because it's not their job to make you understand you not the centre of the Earth (and it won't help because it is a legit trauma response that is very valid but is annoying you're fucking 25 yo). And to say that, neglectful parenthood is probably the worst parenthood style, as far as I know XD I wrote coursework about this (neglectful bitches are having a lot of need to make us the biggest victims (the bitches is me))... It also feels really American to me? Like, are we going to pretend people who got to live in a nice house and were neglect somehow got it as bad as people living in poverty or warzones? Hello? Imagine telling some orphan "I know you have no parents but actually, my trauma of my father not spending enough time with me is just as severe as yours". Bruh couldn't be me sorry... Like, even taking into account the fact that we can have weaker or stronger nervous systems or be more prone to depressive episodes *looks in the mirror and cries* I simply wouldn't find the guts to say my trauma is as severe as idk people who had physically abusive parents or no parents at all or who were disowned for being gay

And like **again** I am not saying that neglect is not traumatic I WAS NEGLECTED THIS IS TRAUMATIZING AS FUCK. I just am living in a country at war and with lots of discrimination problems and I like... Can't say I am the biggest victim. Sorry I can't though there were times when I was a lot more bitchy especially before being in therapy so I understand where you are coming from and I know what I am saying won't resonate with everyone (it's ok go on your own healing journey I believe in you) but this doesn't mean it is garbage and won't help me or someone else... I've already talked once about it but as a person, I am very easily irritated and envious and really not your local Jesus and partially my trauma turned me like this so being more humble about my sufferings helps me not be a complete bitch (believe me or not but people with traumas and mental illnesses are often insufferable *looks in the mirror* not me though I am perfect... BUT IT IS OK TO BE INSUFFERABLE OK??? like, bitch, that's normal. That's normal to stink when you are depressed it's ok to be a bitch when you are hurting. Forgive yourself because I forgive you (when you are not being an abusive asshole but if you apologize and explain yourself I will forgive that too)

The reason why I talk about the fact he is rich is that I've got a disease called leftism and I am a person of several marginalized identities and since this fandom LOVES looking at characters like real humans, I looked at Dabi this way. And if Dabi was a real human, I wouldn't sympathize with him one bit. I would fucking hate him for being the biggest entitled asshole who commits crimes for the reason his Daddy didn't give him attention. Bitch, my Dad didn't give me attention either! But somehow I don't kill people! And I don't even have money!!!! But like... I am not denying that neglectful parents are not a problem. It is. But he is overreacting, bro. He needs to humble down and recognize the fact he is a fucking idiot (he is). He has inherently so much more resources to recover and heal himself than I had... Yes, I am just being jealous at this point but honestly. Making an entire country suffer for you is not a good thing and y'all need to stop using trauma and mental illness as an excuse for people. No! Being abusive to people because of neglect is not valid, is overreacting and you had no reason to do that. I am dismissing your trauma because you are exaggerating it to make me sympathize with your asshole behaviour. I won't judge people with different sets of standards as I judge myself

I bet it would be dismissive and bad if I said it in conversation with someone who is currently struggling with mental health and is not a murderer. But guess what! I don't talk with humans and my friends the same way I talk on my Tumblr about fictional characters 🤷‍♀️ Not to mention I don't have rich friends akabsksbxm

I think with Dabi there's this whole thing where we saw him at 14 (poor baby boy) and 24 (a grown-ass boy) and... Like, I am so sorry for 14 years old Touya not receiving the help he needs (bruh so relatable) but I am not gonna act like 24 years old bitch can't get his ass to a psychiatrist (extremely unrelatable and infuriating). We shouldn't apply the same standards to kids and adults. We can talk all day long about how society is bad and how our parents ruined us but at some points, you gotta take your life into your own hands and do something and be an adult. And it's fucking hard when you're born with a shitty brain that was fucked up by your parents even more in a society where no one gives a fuck but I sincerely don't know another way to live. You will feel bad and want to die but you either keep on recovering or keep on getting worse and at this point getting worse is Dabi's *choice* That's how I live, that's my framework and I am, of course, extremely fortunate in a lot of ways but I just don't know how are you supposed to survive without the notion that grown people are responsible for themselves and their mental health. We can't act like adults are babies

But as a character, Dabi is fucking hot ngl. Like, do I sometimes want to murder my entire family, make them suffer AND commit terrorist attacks? We all do. Dabi is the dark fantasy of us neglectful bitches craving some attention. Gotta kill the president and tell everyone that my Dad sucks. Imagine the entire country hearing your Dad sucks? That's the juice, that's the dream. Trauma makes you vicious. I get the sentiment. Imagine all those fuckers who made you feel like shit pissing their pants and crying? Imagine your Mom being afraid of you the way you used to be afraid of her? People do have the desire for some violent justice but like... Think of bullied kids committing school shootings. But instead of a kid, it's a grown man who graduated school and who also have a rich father

Ok too much about irl stuff and philosophy shit. I know my way of talking is kinda brute so just know the way I treat people is different from that I treat fictional characters, in particular, I don't call real-life humans submissive and breedable... And stuff...

Damn Dabi is kinda good to project your hatred of your parents in bruh, I should write a fanfic about that (would be cathartic)

To the plotline, I am also very interested in what the hell happened with him after burning because... How the hell he wasn't found? I kind of DON'T want him to be groomed at this point because I feel like it won't be as cool as him just more naturally evolving into what he became. Like, surely, he is an asshole but consider this: as a villain, he is morally obligated to be an asshole

I feel like someone hiding him and Touya overstating the gruesomeness of his living conditions to the dude so he feels *bad* for him and hides him and feels sympathy and Touya gets attention but also begins to reassure himself in the fact his Dad needs to be punished... Idk it's a lot of mystery but I feel like more suffering won't deliver the point the way I want it... I mean it CAN be handled this way and initially I thought a lot about Dabi being brainwashed a bit or having his memories altered so it seems worse to him or even him being groomed or lied too but nowadays I am not into it. I mean I believe in Horikoshi and that he will handle him well 🛐

I talk a lot so I will summarize

If we judge him as a real human

14 yo Touya - DID NOTHING WRONG IN HIS LIFE PROTECT HIM

24 yo Dabi - go fuck yourself bitch you older than me and act like a child and kill people, I couldn't care less about your trauma rich boy

If you want me to talk as his psychologist

Yeah, it is painful and sad, I understand him so much and surely, his trauma is valid as is his hatred but probably revenge won't bring him what he wants. And what he wants is love and attention. But he gotta make choices that will lead to his healing. He needs to *want* to heal. And we will step by step go to the healing because it is possible. He is loved and he is enough. AND YOU ALL MOTHERFUCKERS WILL HEAL I BELIEVE IN YOU BESTIES

Also his therapist (behind his back)

You won't believe it but my client is the most infantile attention whore I've ever met

But if we talk about him as a character... Very delicious soup

If you talk with your friends

Please, if your friends are being abusive to you or someone else don't even LET them say how their trauma made them this way. No. Nothing allows you to be an abuser. Call them out and stop them and make them talk to the therapist. Like, surely, there are extreme situations like severe mental illnesses or extreme neglect where we should be more forgiving but babying adults won't do you any good and won't make them recover

Yeah, I guess this is what I forgot to say. When I say "it wasn't that bad" what I mean is that I would be more forgiving to people who had it worse. It's more of a personal measure where I can tolerate stuff from people who had particular traumas or from those who suffered greatly (it's not my place to be a bitch here). I can forgive 14 years old or a poor person for stealing stuff but not the 25-year-old man who got no need for money and is not a kleptomaniac. I would be more forgiving to Shigaraki than to Dabi because Shigaraki was groomed a whole lot. Same for Toga, who is not even an adult or Twice who is a poor orphan. But that doesn't mean I would forgive them completely. All of them are shitty people. It's just that they had fewer resources and possibilities to not be what they became while Dabi had more but he acts like he is extremely hurt and the biggest victim which is like... There will be people like this in your life, please, don't make friends with them, they WILL abuse you

I talked a lot damn. It's adhd I can't shut up

#asks #bnha #bnha manga spoilers #todoroki touya #bnha dabi #killing people is a legit coping mechanism #I mean I possibly do sound dismissive I am very brute in my talking but I really can't be bothered #all I am saying that I am not dismissing neglect what I am dismissing is the idea that is is bad enough to justify Dabi's reaction #neglect was bad Dabi's reaction is disproportionate though #you. don't get to kill people because your Dad didn't love you #you do get to kill people if those people killed your family #just so you understand #I got tired of talking

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sup-hoes-its-me · 4 years

Text

Before You Go (All Might x Reader)

Part One/Part Two

A/N: okay, so this is gonna be pretty sad all around. Ultimately, Young!All Might x reader, but with Aizawa Shota undertones. Aizawa was giving me some mad professor snape vibes in this, and I sincerely apologize for that. I love him too but this isnt his story.

word count:4000

“Y/N, you seriously need to sign up with that energy quirk hero’s agency...shit what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue,” Yamada remarked, tapping his chin as if that might help him remember. He sat at the lunch table with the rest of his friends, Shota and Oboro. Y/N was right beside him, but it seemed his words, despite being loud as usual, went through one ear and out the other.

“Don’t bother. She’s a lost cause.” Aizawa replied tiredly.

They all followed her gaze, only for their eyes to land on Toshinori Yagi. The blond walked by, carrying his food to his lunch table with his friends, people Y/N didn’t know, nor could she ever even hope to know. To be honest, Y/N was kinda sorta a loser. She was lucky that she even had friends considering she was awkward beyond belief.

“He’s too full of himself to notice you, Y/N. I’d just give up on that one,” the dark haired boy added, bumping his shoulder with the girl’s. She frowned, shaking her head to get back to reality. Aizawa was right. Not even once had the blond glanced at her or said hello. He was too cool for her. He was going to be one of the best heroes to ever exist and she was just average at best. None of her teachers ever saw potential in her, just saying that her strength was great, just that the side effects of her quirk were far too destructive.

She took a hefty scoop of rice and shoved it into her mouth, chewing grumpily.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s alright. You could just date me or Yamada!” Oboro laughed, clapping a hand on her shoulder from where he sat across from the girl.

“You don’t have to ruin my fantasies, Aizawa-kun. I know I don’t have a chance, but it’s nice to think about,” she snapped, sending a sideways glance at her friend who shrugged. He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter if Y/N obsessed over that muscle-head, but it bothered him. She was their friend: she should pay attention to them, no ogle over some narcissist. “He’s going to be the greatest hero this world has ever seen, I just know it. There’s something special about him, his quirk-”

“We get it. Toshinori this, Toshinori that. You know, if you like him so much, why don’t you go talk to him?” Yamada suggested. He wasn’t upset with her talking on and on about her crush, but he just knew Aizawa was about to burst with a couple more remarks. When she didn’t make an effort to move, he smiled knowingly. “You’re such a scaredy cat, Y/N. What’s he gonna do, bite you? If he’s a nice guy, it wouldn’t be a problem-”

“If it’s so easy, Yamada, why don’t you go find Nemuri and tell her how you feel?”

That shut him up very fast, as expected. Their cloud quirk friend broke through the tension swiftly, “Well, instead of talking about stupid crushes, why don’t we talk about our plans for this weekend? Karaoke and Barbeque, dudes! It’s gonna be awesome.”

“Oh my God, I totally forgot about that!” Y/N exclaimed, shoving more rice in her mouth so it bulged in her cheek like a squirrel. She probably should take smaller bites, but it was more fun to see how many grains she could fit in her mouth at one time. “Hizashi, I swear if you eat all the spicy pork again...”

“That only happened once-”

“Twice, actually!” she corrected, poking him on the forehead with the end of her chopstick. They laughed and all was well again, if not for her lowering self-esteem. If only Aizawa believed in her. He was her best friend, the only one who’d been there since the beginning. If he pushed her to talk to Toshinori maybe she would have the courage to actually do it.

But that wasn’t important. She had friends who actually enjoyed her company, and that’s what mattered.

The weekend was two days away, and a lot could happen in those 48 hours, she found.

_____________________________________

“Fucking useless. So weak,” Y/N cursed, staring down at her burning hands. Blisters had yet to form, but she could feel the pain of her training. She could accumulate heat from her surroundings and expel that from any part of her body. Yet, it seemed that there were more downsides than perks with this quirk she inherited from her parents. Firstly, she could not consciously choose to concentrate the heat in any one area. Usually, it did come from her hands, but often she would find other parts of her body scalding to the touch when she was using her power. Secondly, using her power at high heat would leave her with terrible burns.

Thankfully, her mother gave her bits of a regeneration quirk, meaning the burns only lasted for a couple days, most of the time less than that. Hopefully, with time, she could control the quirk so the damage wouldn’t be so bad.

She hated her quirk. It sucked. She couldn’t do anything much with it or else she would hurt herself and have to stop. Once she was burned so badly that the hospital almost had to amputate one of her limbs just from that.

Sadly, she fell to her knees on the sandy training grounds, just staring down at her hands hopelessly. How could she ever become a pro hero like this? She’d never be able to compete with the other UA students, especially people like Toshinori or Todoroki or even Aizawa.

“Shit,” she shouted angrily, shutting her eyes and slamming her hands against the sand. Her hands lit up a bright red for a quick moment as heat ran through them into the ground. Sand blew up all around her face and rocks were sent flying in all directions. As the dust cleared, she could see a small crater in the ground where she channeled her energy, it wasn’t huge, maybe enough for a person to lay in, but not much bigger.

Her hands stung terribly, and blisters started to bubble up on her skin. She was so full of adrenaline and hate for herself that the pain hadn’t entered her mind. She was just so fucking angry. She would never be good enough. Why even go to UA if she was just gonna get a job outside of the quirk realm? If anything, she’d probably get left behind to be a civilian while everyone she knew got rich and famous from quirk work.

“Hey, are you okay?” a familiar voice asked from somewhere behind her. She turned her head, tears stuck in the corners of her eyes as she drifted out of her reality into the real world. If it didn’t sting so badly, maybe she would have been more excited to see Toshinori Yagi walking in her direction. She hissed, turning back around and shaking her hands to get some cool air on them.

He jogged to her side, kneeling beside her. His eyes widened at the sight of her hands, but also at the hole she left in the ground. “That looks really, really bad. We should get you to Recovery Girl-”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He looked up to her face, his brows raised in surprise. Why would she deny going to the infirmary for an injury like this? She had to be insane, he thought. “What? Why?”

“It’ll heal soon.”

“Do you have a regeneration quirk?” he asked, but as he did so, he gently took her hands in his, which were in comparison, freezing cold. He felt like he was touching fire, but he knew his body was strong enough to handle a little heat. Her skin was already blood red, but him touching her so delicately left her feeling faint. The school’s star pupil was holding her hands. She couldn’t believe it. Even through the pain, she felt bashful.

She nodded. “Yeah, but it will take a day or two.”

“Well then, we’re going now.” He didn’t even wait for her to say anything in reply before picking her up in his arms, one behind her shoulders and the other under her knees. In shock, she could only lay there limp, her burnt hands face up in her lap. “How’d you do that anyway? You have a heat quirk, right?”

“Yeah. I just put too much energy into my hands. I have to use my quirk in moderation,” she explained. “Also, I can walk. It’s fine, you don’t need to-”

“No! You need to save as much of your strength so you can heal your wounds. Recovery Girl can’t heal you completely, I’m sure.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

He walked inside the school building and started talking again. She didn’t know for sure why he was giving her so much of his time and effort. She could have taken herself to the nurse or easily gone home. It was after class. He might have been coming out to train himself, actually. Either way, he was being extremely kind.

“I’m Toshinori Yagi. I’ve seen you around school before, you always hang with the boy with that erasing quirk.”

“Yep. He’s one of my best friends.”

“If I remember right, you’re L/N Y/N? Heat manipulation quirk? You were 4th in this year’s sport’s festival,” he smiled down at her, and she felt herself light on fire once again. How did he remember her? She was such a background character, and even if she did mildly well, her quirk and face weren’t much to remember. “You were super impressive out there, I was surprised. You seem so shy, but really you’re a powerhouse.”

“Not really. I have to hurt myself to do anything good.”

“If you could learn to control your quirk, imagine what you could do with your power?! You made that giant hole in the ground out there in a matter of seconds.” That made her feel good. People normally brought her down, telling her that she would just have to deal with it, that it was a condition of her power. For some reason, this boy believed in her. It made a bit of a smile come to her lips.

His grin felt contagious, and it only grew brighter seeing her lips curl up.

“I guess so.”

“You should let me help you out. I know a lot about control from my own quirk. We’d be a good pair, I think.”

That was when her heart officially stopped beating. He wanted to spend even more time together? He wanted to take time out his day to help her improve? She began to rethink what her friends said about the boy. He didn’t seem full of himself at all. He was generous and kind from the looks of it.

And to think she had a crush on him before. Now she felt her heart swelling up in her chest so much it might explode.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course.”

That’s how Y/N met the famous All Might, and the moment she started her downward spiral in love with him.

_________________________________

Y/N sat at the lunch table once again with her normal squad of friends, Aizawa to her right as usual. She had one of her books sitting out on the table, a textbook Toshinori gave to her. He said that his own mentor had given that to him to help learn control and moderation of his quirk. She studied it religiously, and surprisingly, it was beginning to work. She had less and less incidents where she had to go to the infirmary or have to extensively heal herself. The training still hurt like hell, but it was less serious.

“Y/N, you’ve been studying a lot lately. Something up?”

“Just trying to get over my weaknesses. Figured I wasn’t working hard enough.”

Just as Aizawa was about to say something else, a loud, excitable voice yelled from a few meters away. “Y/N!”

It was The Toshinori Yagi, the best student at UA. To think two weeks ago, they were telling her he would never know her name. Turns out he already knew, and apparently they were friendly with each other. Oboro’s eyes widened and he elbowed Hizashi beside him, who was jamming on his headphones. Aizawa’s eyes only narrowed.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of the blond boy. He walked over to her seat and leaned his hip on the table, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “You’re really studying that book I gave you, huh? Even at lunch?”

“Of course! I have to do all I can before training.”

“You’ll be fine. You’ve been improving like crazy these past few weeks.”

These past few weeks? Just how long had they been talking?

He smiled kindly at her, and she blushed, hiding her face toward the table. It was weird for the boys to see their little Y/N talking with a boy other than them. And while two of them were ecstatic she seemed to have bagged the hottest boy in the school, one was particularly stormy about it.

“Well, I just stopped by to tell you, you look really beautiful today! You’ve been practically glowing with confidence lately; it’s a really good look on you.”

“O-Oh, thanks, Toshi-kun.”

“I just call it like I see it, Y/N,” he winked, and that sent her heart into overdrive. “Well, I’ve got to go eat, but I’ll meet you outside class later?”

“Yep.”

He left for his table with his super cool friends, leaving her sitting there a flustered, awkward mess. She shoved some rice into her mouth and chewed, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“Sooo, you gonna explain what that was?!” Yamada cried out, clutching at his chest. “Your vibes were too intense, I almost couldn’t handle it.”

She waved the boy off with her hand, trying to downplay it all. ‘It’s really nothing. He’s just helping me train. He has a really good handle on damage control, since we both have stockpile type quirks. I’ve actually gotten somewhat better since then.”

“Seemed like more than that, L/N-chan,”

“I’m telling you, he's just a really, really friendly guy. That compliment was just a friendly one.”

Aizawa sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You’re so dumb, Y/N. He seems like he’s playing with you.” He said it so matter-of-factly, and she glared at him.

“I’ll have you know he’s been helping me a lot with my training but also my healing. He’s very kind and always helps me with anything. He’s never once shown signs he’s not genuine.”

“That’s what a narcissist does to get you comfortable with them, stupid.”

“Can’t you just believe that my crush actually wants to be friends with me and help me? That he’s not just some malicious monster?” When he rolled his eyes, she stood up abruptly, grabbing her book and shoving it into her bag. He sat up quickly and went to grab her wrist, but she moved out of the way swiftly.

“Aw, come on, L/N. Dudette-” Yamada whined, but he knew that Aizawa’s jealousy was getting to the tipping point for the girl. Years went by of him just pushing her away from other guys who liked her and were genuinely kind. Whatever Toshinori was doing with her seemed to give her enough strength to reject the boy’s malice words.

A little bit of him was even proud, the loudmouth admitted to himself.

She kept her head held high, eyes glaring down at the long-haired scruffy boy. He’d never seen her like this: standing up for herself. If she were angry at anyone else, he would be cheering her on, but now he just felt furious. How could she be angry with him? He’d been there since they were children and she just leaves because of some blond himbo.

Her words cut clear in the bustling lunchroom. “I don’t need any negativity right now, Aizawa. If all you want to do is bring me down, then so be it.” After slinging her bag over her shoulder and grabbing her tray, she waved and walked away. As they watched her, she approached the table of her new friend, who greeted her happily. She sat next to Toshinori with a smile on her face, one that Aizawa hadn’t seen directed at him in weeks.

Maybe he was wrong to be bitter, but he just couldn’t believe there wasn’t some conspiracy to all this. How is it that the coolest guy in school goes for Y/N? He thought she was amazing, he had for years, but no one else ever thought that.

Whatever, it didn’t matter anyway. She could do whatever she wanted, and if she got her feelings hurt, so be it.

_________________________________

The pair sat outside the school as always. She munched on an icecream bar from the cafeteria while he leaned back, arm across her shoulders and his eyes drawn to the sky, fading from dimmed orange into deep violet. He had guilt hanging over his head the past few weeks, and it was finally time for him to explain himself.

“I can’t believe we’re done. School went by too quick.”

“I think it goes by faster when you’re fighting evil a couple days a week.”

She nodded, humming in agreement. Her senior year was full of battles, emotional and physical. She was broken to bits when her friend Oboro died or when Toshinori was left to mourn his mentor and they only had each other. Being a hero comes with a cost, but no one expects to be 17 and watch the people they love die all around them. It’s worse when you’re strong enough that you know you could have saved them but you just didn’t. “It was worse than I imagined. I know we’re going to do this for our whole lives, but I don’t want it to hurt as much.”

“That’s why you have to always be better than the villains, Y/N. I know I’m going to be.”

She tucked the clean popsicle stick into her bookbag when she was done with it, not wanting to throw it on the ground. Her hand found its way to his, curling her smaller fingers gently around his. Her smile was all too bright, a trait of his that seemed to grow on her the longer they spent together. “We’ll do it together, right? You and me on top of the charts, just like we dreamed of?”.

He relished in the warmth of her hand pressed to his, even if it was just a friendly. He was going to miss moments like this, dreams of the two of them...All that planning for nothing. He sighed, his eyes going from the sky to the dirt beneath their feet. “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

With a furrowed brow, she asked, “What’s up?” It couldn’t be bad...

“Tomorrow I’m leaving for America. I don’t know how long.”

“What do you mean you’re leaving for America tomorrow?” Y/N asked her best friend, eyes wide with fear. He knew he should have told her earlier, but he couldn’t explain why he was leaving, and he knew the more time she knew the greater chance he would reveal the reason. She couldn’t know about All For One. It would only put her in danger.

He sighed, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. “I have to go to America. I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you before-”

“I can’t believe this. You waited until the day before to tell me I’ll basically never see you again. You expect me to be satisfied with a two minute goodbye today and just forget about you- about everything?” she asked, a stone sinking to the pit of her stomach. She felt like she was going to cry or get sick. How could he do this to her?

“I know. I know. I should have told you sooner but I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, I just can’t tell you.”

That answer wasn’t good enough. It was wrong to pry, but the betrayal was too much for her to handle rationally.

She turned her head away from him, staring bitterly at the wall beside her. She refused to meet his eyes. “I thought I could trust you.You’re one of my closest friends, Toshi, but now I know you don’t care. If you cared you would have at least given me a heads up, maybe spent more time with me before you just decide to abandon me,” she sneered, the anger building up in her chest. “You’re too good for someone like me. Shota-kun was right this whole time. Everytime he told me you were just playing with me, that you didn’t actually care about me; he was right, wasn’t he?”

All Might shook his head, trying to reach out to grab her, bring her back to his side. He didn’t want her to turn against him now. He didn’t want to say goodbye with her hating him, her last memory of him being so terrible. Still, she jumped away from her seat, stumbling over her feet to get away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

“Y/N, please. I just want this goodbye to be happy.”

“Goodbyes are never fucking happy, Yagi. You’re so stupid.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“How could you not?” Y/N bit back her sadness, letting anger take over. “Just forget it. It’s not worth fighting over. You’re leaving, so goodbye. Maybe we’ll see each other again, maybe not. But just know, I would have done anything to stay by your side if you really cared about me.” With those words lingering in the air, she turned on her heel and started to walk away.

“Y/N, please don’t go yet,” he paused, trying to gather himself. She was walking away, her back turned and her head hung. “I love you.”

But she didn’t turn around. What was the point now? She’d lost him already, no use in saying anything back or confessing her love as well. He would still be leaving tomorrow, and they would probably never see each other again. It would break her heart to run back there and hug him, confess her long time feelings to the boy. They were never an item. Maybe if he stayed, they could have been something more.

If he really loved her, he wouldn’t leave her behind. If he really loved her, he would have shut his mouth before those three little words, and saved her the broken heart.

Part Two is up!

#all might x reader #all might #toshinori yagi x you #toshinori yagi x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #x reader #fanfic #one shot #toshinori one shot #all might one shot #imagine #all might imagine #boku no hero imagine #my hero academia imagine #mha #bnha #bnha oneshot

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whumpbby · 3 years

Text

I finished typing and now I feel I have to preface it with a: this is all a monologue about Jedi and Force and Lucas’ inability to show the good story he wants to tell - just a warning. This is in no way meant to contradict the other post with that quote floating around or argue against it - just my own rambling coming to a conclusion I keep struggling with when it comes to SW universe and the ways it makes no sense to me and how I feel deep in my bones that Lucas is a crap storyteller.

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I don’t know why, but for all the interesting concepts Lucas talks about, Anakin’s fall never sat well with me. In time I came to the conclusion I would respond better if the Jedi culture surrounding it wasn’t so contradictory to itself.

And if he wasn’t so heavily leaning on the concept of the ‘pure love’ that is unconditional and undemanding and ‘unselfish’. Tldr: that love does not exist outside of poetry and romance dramas and imagination. Like every other emotion humans feel, love is conditional.

Take the first trilogy - I got that. The Jedi were largely missing and there was not much lore-wise, but the vibe it gave was measured and peaceful and mindful, and all the things that stood against the Empire - that represented the Dark Side in a very concise way. It wasn’t too nuanced, so we could buy it in this very simple ‘princes kidnapped b ya dragon’ story. This is as good as Lucas gets.

But then the prequels happened and Jedi became this weird, extremely specific, but conflicting idea. They are not supposed to take sides in politics - except when they do. They are not supposed to kill - except when they do, with freaking relish. They are not supposed to love or hate or allow emotions dictate their ways - oh, except when they do. And they can have sex - just not sex with someone they want to settle down with (oh boy, is that a signifier of a story written by a guy or what?). All seems to be ‘except when they do, as long as it can be adequately justified to make them look good’.

And I do have an issue with the idea of ‘Anakin was too old to join, he was already attached to his mother’ which is, when you think about it, is insane. Learning to control your emotions and letting go of your wants, Buddhist way, fine.

Aiming to train children to not be attached to their parents? What? How young a child has to be for that attachment forms? How is a meditation and repeating mantras going to help a 5-year old who is missing their mom at the temple? How do you even expect to train a child out of missing their mom??? How is it NOT better to get an older child that can reason above the instinctual and hardwired need for their mother?

But let’s say Anakin’s attachment to his mother was ‘selfish’ from the beginning - but, that’s the thing, was it? Was it really? They were slaves and she was his only family, okay, obviously that made his attachment stronger and more layered than, say, a normal middle-class Coruscanti kid who could love their mom without constant fear that any day they can be separated forever by someone who didn’t give a shit. In that sense, yes, Anakin was desperately attached to his mom and afraid of loosing her - there was fear in him. Right, I’m there with you, Yoda.

But the movies show us that the way Jedi seem to approach these hard subjects is by not approaching them at all - oh, well, we can’t take him in. He had a difficult childhood and there are issues attached, get him out of here.

In a galaxy full of races and issues and the Force being tied to any and all creatures in any and all circumstances - this was the hard line Jedi were drawing. In essence, either only accepting kids young enough to not remember their parents (and I see absolutely no issues whatsoever that could happen here, nope) or with childhoods perfect enough not to have any issues whatsoever. Anyone else? Adults that discovered Force when they were older? Kids like Anakin with hard childhoods? Creatures that were either culturally or chemically wired differently enough that the tight reins Jedi held over their emotions weren’t possible for them? Nope. Go away. You are a bad person in the making.

If you spend a moment contemplating, you will realise this is such a white privileged guy way to think about it. And if you stick your head into the microwave for a couple seconds, you can almost understand how Lucas thought this is something profound and mystical.

No that I think about it... I always thought Sith were freaking clowns - their philosophy makes no sense, their ‘rule of two’ is hilarious, everything about them is just so badly designed and thought out, and who would ever decide to join of that creepy cult of their own volition? It made no sense!

But, as an answer to the egalitarian and contradictory ways of the Jedi - Sith make all the sense to exist. And let’s forget about the Light and Dark (that I don’t believe exist above the ways of personal emotional expression that in time trains the Force around a person in certain ways - like a person can train their brain in and out of anxiety ofr example), but focusing strictly on philosophy - yeah, being a Sith makes sense when any other way is barred form someone by no fault of their own. And barred with an excuse they are a bad seed anyway.

“You fear/hate/desire hence you can’t access the Force with us” = “Well fuck you, then, I will access the Force in my own way, using these exact emotions!”

Like, Sith are clowns, but Jedi suck in their own very special way and their fall was just waiting to happen.

I get a strange feeling that Lucas created Jedi as a class of a warrior monk in DnD and then scrambled to create their enemies out of the simplest contradictions. Light-dark. Love-Hate. Peace-Fear. Etc. But because Jedi were so simple - once they started to gain popularity and he had to expand their lore and layer on the philosophy, he hit a wall. Or rather, the bottom of the kiddy pool. Because a ‘warrior monk’ is not an a ‘good’ class, but he wanted them to be mostly warriors, but also a force of good in the galaxy, because Star Wars is the same simple story repeated again and again with a new set of characters (regardless of how much fake politics is thrown in to obscure that fact) so this whole universe is basically built on giving Jedi reasons to fight and kill, and adequately justifying them. And then the Dark Side had to catch up by being more ridiculously evil at every turn - accidentally unmasking the way Jedi philosophy falls apart under closer scrutiny.

So like, to make a full circle, the one thing the prequels did well was to show Anakin’s fall (and I am not gonna argue, it was effective and he is a villain of this story) but they also presented - I think against the creator’s intention - why it was pretty much inevitable. Not because Palpatine was there to whisper poison, or because Force itself strived for ‘balance’ (even though the latter is a hilarious idea I love to contemplate) - but because Jedi, as presented in the movies-media around them, as a philosophy and way of life is inherently contradictory and unsustainable from the point of being a, well, a breathing, thinking being. The ‘selfish love’ argument would work so much better if it wasn’t presented with an example of a kid who was born a slave and the people who saw it as a strike against his character, and did very little to address the specific issues that could arise from that before it was too late.

Would it fucking kill them to let go of their strict training routine and ensure that his specific emotional needs were met? That Shimi was, I don’t know, NOT A SLAVE. They seem to interfere into politics just fine when need arises - but not when it’s a sandy planet in the ass-end of the universe no one cares about. Then no, we can’t liberate one slave. That would be acting in self-interest - not in the interest of not allowing one of the strongest members of out order to fall into the ruin we have forseen form the beginning.

It would work better is if Anakin’s ‘selfishness’ was presented as his inability to let Padme leave him for someone else/just leave him - not to be unwilling to let her die.

Think about it for a moment - he wasn’t presented with the idea of Padme leaving him. With the idea of his mother not loving him anymore. He was firmly and, form his point of view, believably, presented with the idea of both of them DYING. Which actually happened to his mom, solidifying the fear in his mind.

Yes, he was not meant to go on a rampage and kill the ones who killed Shimi - but wasn’t he? The Jedi are not against killing. Only killing in self-interest I guess - when self-interest is not one’s life and their political affiliation or their ‘job’ at hand, that is. Revenge is a no-no, but a military retaliation is a yes-go. Can’t kill anyone who wronged me - but I can kill those who wronged a person who gives me orders. How does that work within a Jedi doctrine?

How, in good conscience, can you present this scenario, George, and then try to spin it into this big philosophical bullcrap about unselfish love???? Jedi murdered people over political squabbles - but I guess that’s okay because they weren’t invested??? And that’s better?!?!? George! What the fuck! You are such a bloke my head hurts!

In case of Anakin, Jedi were essentially Elsa’s parents. I pretty much despise Elsa and the film she crawled out of, and I personally don’t like Anakin as a character either, so this is not stanning in any way, but their issues scream ‘I was raised by well-meaning idiots’ and shows the level of botched storytelling I just can’t reconcile.

Which, you know what?

Luke, who spent years studying Jedi ways and taking them into himself?

I can believe than this Luke would try to kill his nephew at the barest whiff of the Dark Premonition instead of helping him manage his motions in a somewhat healthy way - that seems to be exactly what a real Jedi would do, after all.

#star wars #rant?#thoughts?#rambling #jedi suck blue balls #and so do sith #sw #lucas should never write on anything that isn't a post-it note

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taelme · 4 years

Text

High school classmate!Lucas

genre: it’s kind of set in like the past? like u know those like Taiwanese school dramas like that kind of vibe mixed with like reply 1988 vibes idk how to classify it , so high school!au (fluff, slow burn, angst with a relatively happy ending)

pairing/s: Lucas / Reader, ( some of nct/superm/wayv appear in this!! ( just Kun, Ten, and Sicheng ) )

word count: 12k+

tw: like domestic abuse like,,, tough family situations,,

a/n: this was kind of inspired by a dream I had of Lucas and like I’m honestly really in love with like the vibes of those like Taiwanese school dramas like ‘Our Times’ and like those dramas with the vibes of like the Reply series, so I thought I would try something different and do something for Lucas inspired by that,,, so enjoy!! I had a lot of fun imagining how Lucas would behave if he were in this situation..

Usually, Lucas would have stuck to just pacing around the stretch of field near his house whenever he left his house out of boredom when his parents weren’t home, but he didn’t regret wandering into the market on the day of his 8th birthday, after a ritual cutting of a small cupcake his housemaid had prepared for him. Because if he hadn’t decided to wander, his life wouldn’t have changed, according to him. ( which really meant he wouldn’t have stumbled across your grandma’s noodle shop )

“Hello,” your grandma smiled in greeting, waving at the young boy who looked fascinated at such a place, never having been to any eating place other than a restaurant before. Lucas waved shyly at her, carefully climbing onto a stool near the table next to the kitchen, watching in fascination as your grandma cooked.

“What’s your name, dear?” she asked the rosy cheeked boy, who fiddled with his short bangs before replying a quick, “Huang Xuxi,” to her.

It didn’t take long for your grandma to realize why the name sounded so familiar, realizing this boy was from the rich family that had just moved into the neighbourhood barely a month ago.

“You want something to eat?” Lucas considered her offer as seriously as any 8 year old would, glancing between the kitchen to your grandma, before reaching into his pocket and being only met with fabric, frowning upon realizing he hadn’t brought money with him.

Shaking his head in reply, rather sadly at that, he told your grandma, “I don’t have any money with me....”

She had simply laughed in reply, shaking her head, “Oh, that won’t be necessary, Xuxi. You can have it for free.”

His eyes widened in delight, smiling at her appreciatively.

She’d brought a small bowl of her dumpling soup noodles back to where the boy sat. Watching with a motherly smile on her face as he took his first sip of the soup, his eyes widening.

“Aunty...I love you,” your grandma guffawed, reaching out a hand to pat the boy’s head endearingly.

Lucas’ eyes widened in realization, “you know...” he leaned closer to your grandma with the intention to divulge a big secret, his eyes widening the closer he got to her, his voice lowering to a whisper. “A girl in my class gave me a dumpling that tastes just like this!”

Your grandma tilted her head at him, having a feeling she knew who he was talking about. “And what might this girl’s name be?”

“Y/N!” he told her with a grin, munching on an amount of noodles that seemed too much for his tiny mouth.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” your grandma leaned closer to his ear, “she’s my granddaughter.”

The noodles threatened to slip out from Lucas’ mouth when he gasped loudly, giggling after as he covered his mouth so his noodles could stay inside.

“What do you think of her?” your grandma asked him, seeing him stare at his noodles with a smile playing at his lips, shrugging repeatedly.

“She’s....cute,” he mumbled, making your grandma laugh.

“I’ll tell you what, whenever you come here you can get a free bowl of noodles,” his eyes widened, nodding profusely till your grandma continued, “on one condition.”

He nodded at her, putting on his best serious-looking face to show her he was ready, “Help me look after Y/N in school,” Lucas figured at that time that this was a simple request, bringing his hand up in a salute position.

“Will do, aunty!”

===

Now, 18 year old Lucas had developed his ‘efficient fool-proof system’ to do small things that would make things easier for you without you knowing.

For instance, using his good rapport with the market vendors to make sure you would already have the freshest possible selection for the noodle shop, to even silently going out of his way to make sure nobody in school gave you trouble for your background ( which meant that he would personally pay for your new set of uniform every school year, passing it to Sicheng and instructing him to tell you it was given by the school )

“You look lovely, dear,” your gaze fluttered to the figure standing at the doorway, which was none other than your grandmother, dressed in shoddy clothes and an old apron, what you recognized to be her work clothes.

Your family wasn’t well off ( well by family, you meant your grandma and yourself since it's been that way since you could remember ), you barely scraped by off of the profits your grandma made from her noodle shop that you occasionally helped out with, but you still received supplies from the school.

Such as the uniform you were wearing now. Ironed crisp and clean, you passed off as any other average student in your school. You were thankful your school decided to implement uniforms earlier than other schools, since you really didn't think your normal clothes could compare to the other girls in your school, not wanting a repeat of the episode you experienced in the past.

You picked up your school bag from where it was on the bed, walking over to kiss your mother on the cheek, “bye mama, I’ll be home by 6.”

Your grandma waved her hand at you in dismissal, clucking her tongue at you disapprovingly, “It’s okay, it’s okay! Take your time. Have a good day at school!”

You picked up the pace as you walked, eager to avoid bumping into Sicheng and his friends, especially not at this time of the morning. But you seemed to have spoken too soon, hearing the familiar sound of bicycle wheels whirring and boyish shouting.

They would call you with a teasing tone, making you wince, avoiding eye contact with them until one of them wheeled their bicycles in front of you, stopping your path.

“What do you want, Sicheng,” You huffed, staring up at him impatiently.

The boy scrunched up his nose as he shot you a mischievous smile, “is it such a crime that i wanted to say good morning to you?” his words were all meshed together in a combined mumble, a habit of Sicheng's ever since he was young, but the black haired boy never seemed to care too much about it- since after all, to him it didn't make a difference as long as you understood him.

“Yeah, okay fine, good morning. Now would you please get out of my way so I can go to school?” Believe you, you loved Sicheng, but sometimes you really did miss your quiet walks to school to enjoy the scenery at your own pace.

“C’mon, your grandma wouldn’t be happy if I just let you walk even though I have a bike, let me give you a ride.”

You knew this could go either of two ways. Either you stand firm and have a long battle with Sicheng to let you walk to school on your own, or you suck it up and let him give you a ride to school.

The ride to school would have seemed harmless to anyone else, since Sicheng was a friend of yours for as long as you could remember, but it was just that you would rather not hang out with him while he was with his friends, since they didn't exactly have the best reputation in school.

You did a once-over at his friends that were with him currently, a senior named Ten with short choppy black hair and many piercings (and very expensive shoes, you noted), and a boy your age that went by the name of Lucas. Although you could talk and joke around with Ten one-to-one, you don’t think you’ve ever had a proper sentence spoken to you by Lucas before.

The boy was all expensive sneakers, sports brand bags, the latest music tapes that were extremely hard to get if you didn't save up. He lived pretty near you, so you would usually walk past his giant- at least compared to yours -house whenever you were on your way to the market, sometimes even catching a glimpse of his mother leaving the house to go to work on rare days when the car was parked in the house. It was almost as if the placement of his house was just a daily reminder for you that you were both from different worlds.

Sure there were times you would think was cute, and you may have given him your last dumpling when you were younger as an unspoken love offering, but as you grew older, you felt like maybe you and Lucas just shouldn't, and wouldn't happen. After all, you figured your heart was too weak to get put up for rejection.

You were pulled from your thoughts when you saw Sicheng snapping his fingers in front of your face, snatching your gaze from Lucas.

"So...?" he raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, but don’t drive too fast,” you told Sicheng, hurling yourself onto the back of his bicycle with your back facing his, making sure your skirt was covering whatever it needed to cover, grabbing on tighter to the seat when the abrupt start of the bicycle moving almost made you lose your balance.

Ten had gone ahead and rode his bicycle faster than Sicheng, which had only meant Lucas was directly in your view. He pedalled effortlessly, his gaze on you intent, as if he had wanted to say something, but decided against it in the end. You had almost let yourself get carried away watching how he would do things with a certain amount of charisma that you found almost difficult not to look at, even the small smirk he gave you when he caught you staring at him left you breathless.

“Don’t flirt with Lucas behind my back, okay.” Sicheng sing-songed, earning a hearty eye-roll from you, your eyes darting nervously to look at Lucas for a reaction but strangely he had seemed absolutely unaffected. Instead, he simply huffed and pedalled faster, overtaking Sicheng and maintaining his pace there.

You felt almost hurt at this unspoken rejection, not knowing how to come back from the incident, tried your best to push any kind of curious thought you had about Lucas away from your head during the ride.

What was so special about him anyway? you huffed at the thought. Other than the fact that he was the son of a prestigious lawyer and company owner, and that he was the star of the school's basketball team, there wasn't much else for you to work with when it came to unraveling who exactly Lucas Wong was. ( well other than the occasional rumour that he was in a gang and got into fights frequently )

Though Sicheng was your closest friend, you had never spoken to him on the topic of Lucas any further than simple things like how well he played at a game or how nice his hair looked that day. There were rumours floating around that his family situation was rough, but you knew it wasn't your place to ask.

Little did you know, Sicheng wasn't as well informed about it as you thought he was; only aware of the fact that Lucas would leave home occasionally, and skip school a few days after.

"Hey! Wait up! Oh-I guess he isn't gonna wait up after all," you peeped your head around to see Lucas having disappeared from sight.

"Let me know if you see him at class today, yeah? God, it's the first day of the school year; he can't possibly be skipping already," Sicheng huffed with the tone of a worried mother, but instead of laughing, you couldn't help but sympathise with him, wincing slightly out of pity.

You shrugged your shoulders, your hands still gripping the seat of the bicycle, "to be honest, I just wouldn't care if I were you, I mean, what's the point if he's not gonna listen anyway? I wouldn't be surprised if he gets kicked out of his house again, he's asking for it with those bad grades he brings home all the time," you were taken aback by the sharp thump on your head you received from Sicheng after that statement.

"Don't ever say that again. I'll tell you this once and I won't say it again, Y/N. Sometimes for Lucas, just a little care is all he's asking for."

===

"Class, please look at the notice board in front of the class for your new seating arrangement," your class representative had announced amidst the sound of reunions and loud chatter before the teacher arrived.

Making a beeline for the notice board, you analysed the seating plan as you munched on the dumplings your grandma had packed for you for breakfast, your index finger finally landing on your name on the square at the corner of the room, looking at the squares to your seat’s perimeter, you noticed that the table behind you, at the very back corner of the class next to the window belonged to the very boy you were hoping you wouldn't need to be in such close contact with, Lucas. The sound of the girls at the table near you chatting animatedly suddenly becoming deafening.

"Did you hear? Lucas Wong rejected Hana from year 3's confession? She looked so afraid I almost felt bad for the poor girl!" you heard one of them lament, and you made to walk past them as slow as you could so you could hear more.

"When did she do it?"

"This morning!" you tuned out the rest of the conversation, figuring this was just another reason to add to your list of reasons 'why you shouldn't go after Lucas Wong'.

You figured if you wanted to continue to lay low in school, you would stick to admiring him from afar, instead of putting yourself up to get hurt like that. There were only a few ways to look at Lucas for people in your school: you either didn't want to get involved with him, were scared of him or you liked him ( sometimes all three for people in situations like yours )

You reassured yourself that seeing Lucas wouldn't be a problem if you just didn't try to cross paths with him, until you looked for your seat and realised that there was Lucas seated at the desk behind yours. His long legs stretched out on your chair, hoodie-covered head leaning against the windowsill, eyes closed peacefully with earpiece plugged into his ears.

Your hands unconsciously clenched harder on the dumplings, anxiously contemplating finding another chair since yours was currently being used as a leg rest, but you couldn't see a free chair in sight, eventually deciding to munch on the dumpling you had, in the hopes that it would give you strength for what you were about to do.

Just as you were going closer to Lucas, he was already very aware of your presence next to him, the dumpling you were eating awakening his senses to the very first time he ate that same dumpling. His stomach growling softly, making him flush in embarrassment with his eyes still closed.

Your gentle fingers prodded at his shoulder lightly, and you had to remind yourself to keep chewing as you saw the way his eyelids fluttered open and his gaze landed on you. Shifting his upper body slightly to face you, Lucas lifted a hand to remove the earpieces from his ears, giving u an expectant look.

"Uh...sorry, I know you were sleeping and all but uh..I kind of...you know, need my chair," you pointed at the chair his legs were currently resting on, "and there's no extra chair here so uh...yeah if you could just...you know, give it back?"

Lucas looked at you with a curious expression, setting his earpiece down on the table, and you found yourself almost afraid to make eye contact with him, lest your face turn red from the attention he was giving you.

"What do I get in return?" his voice shocked you, seeing as you've never heard it in a while, you never noticed it could get this deep.

"Uh...what do you want? I'm not sure if I can get you those branded stuff, then again you probably have them already-"

His gaze flickered between you and the item of food you were holding in your hands, "I want the dumpling," he spoke.

You cocked an eyebrow at his unexpected request.

"This? You want this dumpling? Are you sure? You've probably tasted a lot better.."

He shot you a smirk, tilting his head at you, "I said I want the dumpling, not your house. You don't have to fight me." He held out his hand expectantly, making you reach out hesitantly before finally placing the small plastic bag onto his hand with a shaky breath leaving your lips, seeing him shoot you a smile and use his free hand to pat your head twice.

"Good girl," he lifted his legs off the chair with a thud that seemed both harsh yet dramatic, "the chair's yours."

You turned around and hauled the chair back to your seat, all sorts of confusion washing over you from that interaction, completely oblivious to the stares your classmates were giving the both of you. God help you if you wanted to get through this year sane.

===

“Y/N, I packed an extra breakfast, pass it to cheng cheng for me would you? His mother is out of town so he doesn’t have lunch.” You hummed as you packed the blue lunchbox with white flower patterns on it into your bag, though you knew for a fact that Sicheng had no problem with his mom not cooking lunch for him, since it gave him an excuse to loiter out later with Lucas and Ten.

You proceeded to school as per normal, handing Sicheng’s lunch to him when you passed by his class in the morning, assuming it was very much enjoyed by him judging from how the lunchbox would come back to you practically clean at the end of the day.

You noticed that Lucas was coming to school more often, tending to see him hanging around with Sicheng. But you weren’t sure for exactly what since you were on a short school break now, and the only reason you went to school was because you had to prepare for the sports fest as part of class committee.

After which, you would usually wait for Sicheng to be done with soccer practice before you two would go home together. So there was your routine for your break thus far, and now, on an absolutely blistering Tuesday afternoon, you found yourself sat in the spectating area overlooking the soccer field, using your textbook to shelter your head from the heat.

You contemplated filling your water bottle since you were thirsty and well, had nothing else better to do, but figured stealing from Sicheng would be a lot more convenient. Making your way down the bleachers carefully, you straightened out your messy skirt, smoothing out the creases that had formed after sitting for so long.

Quickly locating Sicheng’s bag from the messy scrawl of his name in white marker on the bag strap, you shuffled around in it and was about to take the water bottle from his backpack, until you realised there was something missing from the bag; your extra lunchbox.

You found it a little strange, not knowing why Sicheng would have misplaced your lunchbox like that, about to turn around and pull him out of practice to give him an earful about it before you saw Lucas jogging towards you, standing abruptly still upon spotting you, his hands behind his back and his gaze looking elsewhere as he quickly made a sharp turn, walking away from your direction.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, completely forgetting that you were thirsty since Lucas had definitely seemed as though he was going to go towards your direction before he'd seen you, so you decided you would carry out a little experiment.

Stepping away from Sicheng's bag carefully, making as if to walk to the water cooler, you'd hid behind a pillar where you would be blocked from Lucas' gaze, watching said boy indeed making his way back to the bleachers carefully, his long legs stumbling and stretching over the bags to bend down to Sicheng's bag, finally pulling out what he was holding behind his back, your gaze practically burning holes into the lunchbox as you watched him shove it back into Sicheng's bag quickly.

Sicheng was going to have to answer to this.

After practice, you bounded down the spectator stand, standing with your hands on your hips next to Sicheng, a deep frown on your face.

“What’s got you looking so ugly?” He smirked, using his knuckle to nudge your head lightly, flicking his hair away from his face as he reached over to pick up his bag and sling it over his shoulder.

“Dong Sicheng, you’d better get some answers ready.”

===

“Alright,” you began just as you both turned onto the road of your neighbourhood, the clicking of his bicycle almost unnoticeable from how long you both had been walking, “have you been eating my grandma's lunch boxes?”

Sicheng shot you a look of disbelief, his sudden slip of his hand on his bicycle giving away that you had caught him off guard, though he straightened up quickly, replying ever so stoically.

“Yeah, of course, I mean, they come back to you empty don’t they?”

“Oh yeah, they do. D’you remember what she made for you yesterday?” Sicheng's eyes darted in so many directions within a span of a few seconds. Praying to God that what he would guess would actually be correct.

“Noodles with soup?” you frowned at him, earning a sigh from Sicheng, knowing he had trapped himself then and there.

“You’ve been giving them to Lucas, haven’t you?” you accused, like a parent who had found their child doing something they weren't supposed to behind their back.

You held the silence, watching Sicheng squirm visibly before he gave in.

“Okay, fine! I did. But what’s so bad about that?!”

“God, Sicheng, he’s rich! Why can’t he get his own lunch? Why does he have to eat yours! What have you been eating for lunch then?”

Sicheng sighed, “Look, he doesn’t get lunch either, alright? And I mean, isn’t it good that he loves your grandma's cooking so much? What’s with you and always thinking people have bad intentions?” He told you, disbelief laced in his tone.

Ignoring his last question, you scoffed at him, “that wasn’t my grandma's cooking, Cheng, it was mine. Mama told me to start making them on my own because the restaurant needed to open earlier and she couldn’t get enough sleep so I did it instead. All those extra dumplings ‘you’ asked for? All me.”

“Oh,” Sicheng murmured, making you groan loudly, “Lucas doesn’t even acknowledge my presence on a daily basis, and I’ve been making lunch for him for two weeks now? You’ve gotta be kidding me, Sicheng.”

“Okay, Y/N, I’m sorry. But there wasn’t much I could do, he looked really happy eating it. It's the first proper meal he’s had in ages.”

“He should pay me.”

Sicheng shot you a pleading look, “can’t it be service for a friend?”

You glared at him, “No. He’s not my friend, he’s your friend.”

“And any friend of mine is a friend of yours, am I right?” he smiled at you sheepishly, flinching slightly when you snapped at him.

“Cut the crap, Cheng. If he wants more noodles, he can come to the store and pay for them himself.”

===

“Hey, Y/N, can you stay back to finish up the boards for next week? we sort of need them by the end of this week” you were stuck in the dusty classroom trying to design, draw and colour the signboards for the sports fest, only halfway done when you heard a knock at the door, from the class representative informing you she was about to lock the classroom so you had better find another place to do the signboards and hold the flyers.

You complied, albeit reluctantly, stacking the boards and boxes of flyers ( which were atrociously heavy you may add ) until they piled up so high you couldn’t see the stairs as you were heading down them.

Hoping to God you wouldn’t bump into anything, you slowly made your way down, but soon you heard the loud thundering of running on the steps.

“You’d better run!” you heard a boy shout before something hard smacked into you from behind, causing you to lose your balance, sending you falling down the stairs with a yelp.

You tried to break your fall but were too late, your wrist coming into contact with the floor and feeling as though you had just had it run over by a car, the boxes and boards strewn about around you. Hearing light footsteps in a run, you felt a hand on both your shoulders, looking up to see Lucas in his sports attire, his hair messy and slightly damp with sweat, looking at you with concern, before turning to the direction of the people that had bumped into you, shouting what would have sounded like a threat if you weren't too focused on the pain in your wrist to pay attention.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” you tried to recover from the shock that he was actually talking to you before replying him,

“I hope not, I mean, I think I’m okay? My wrist really hurts though, I feel like it's broken.”

He made a grim face, “come with me,” he easily helped you up.

“Can you walk?”

You nodded in reply, watching him scoop up the boards and carry the boxes along with an ease you were almost envious of.

You let him lead you to the school nurse's office, though you were still a bit tense regarding the whole lunchbox exchange you had with Sicheng earlier that day. You found that Lucas was very familiar with the nurse from always faking sick to get out of school.

“Hey doc, she fell down the stairs, can you check if her wrist is messed up?”

“It feels like it’s broken,” the nurse smiled, letting a small laugh escape her lips.

“For the last time, I’m not a doctor, Lucas. And it’s not broken, honey. Looks like you’ve just sprained it. You might find it a little difficult to write or do things with your hand the next few days, so just be careful, hmm?” she scribbled something down on the paper attached to her clipboard, noticing the way Lucas stared at her and nodded intently with a pensive look on his face as if she was giving him life advice, almost making you smile.

But that moment was short-lived when your gaze shifted to the incomplete signboards you were supposed to send for approval the next day, not knowing how you were going to complete all of that in time with your bad wrist.

The nurse kindly wrapped your wrist, and once you were done you noticed the sun was already setting, making you sigh once again. You weren't even able to push your worry aside to have enough time to refuse Lucas' help to bring the flyers and banners to your house, being an unspoken agreement.

You found yourself almost nervous during the walk home, afraid things would get awkward again given Lucas' non-existent urge to talk to you on the daily. But what had happened instead gave you a surprise, and a rather pleasant one at that.

“Are these the signboards for the sports meet thing?” you nodded with a hum of confirmation.

“I have no idea how I’m gonna finish them by tomorrow with my wrist like this..” you lamented, kicking at the ground as you walked.

He bit his lip, cutting in quickly before you could continue, “I can help you...and stuff. I have nothing on tonight...and it's not like you can do everything yourself with that wrist and all....” Lucas offered, his lips pressing into a thin line as he looked away from you to try to calm his heart which was racing so much.

“Are you sure? It’s not exactly the fun-est thing in the world..”

“No, really it’s fine, I want to,” he dismissed you, making you scrunch your nose up in distaste but agreeing anyway, not in any position to refuse.

===

“My grandma's still at work, so is it alright with you if I just heat up something from the fridge?”

He nodded profusely, setting the materials down with a rather loud thump on top of your dining table, “yeah, that’s fine by me. If you need help just tell me, alright? I’ll just get started on the boards first.”

You decided to take a quick shower first, undoing the wrap around your wrist so it wouldn’t get wet, after which, you changed into your more presentable pyjamas since Lucas was over, you quickly went to the kitchen and looked in the fridge to see if there was any leftover noodles.

Doing your best to heat it up and pour it into a nicer-looking bowl with your bad wrist, you slowly carried the bowls one by one to the living room, seeing his head shoot up at the smell wafting in from the kitchen. It was safe to say you wanted to present the best you could to him, not wanting him to think lowly of you or anything.

“Oh my God.” His mouth dropped open at the sight of the food before turning into a big smile, staring intently at the bowls before glancing at you, his gaze moving to your wrist and realising it was unwrapped.

The smile disappeared from his face, being replaced with a slight frown, letting out a little upset sound, a ‘tsk-tsk’ leaving his lips, he grabbed the bandage he saw lying on the table, “come here, sit down,” he instructed you.

You nervously watched as his big hands carefully wrapped your wrist just like how the nurse did, delicately but firmly, seeing how careful he was in tucking the ends into the bandage.

Letting a small smile of satisfaction appear on his face after he was done, “there, better?” he looked to you for affirmation, and you finally looked up from your wrist to make eye contact with him, seeming awfully similar to a little boy with that expression as you gave him a smile in return, nodding.

“Much better, thank you.”

You pushed the bowl towards him on the table, a little part of you feeling happy at how his smile grew bigger at the gesture.

“Thank you,” he murmured with a gentleness unlike anything you’ve seen before when it came to Lucas. Usually when one thinks of Lucas they would think of rowdiness, or big, rough actions, nothing like the Lucas you were currently witnessing for yourself.

“You really like the noodles, don’t you?” he looked at you mid scoffing down the food upon hearing your voice, making you let out a giggle.

Slurping the rest of his mouthful, a shy smile graced his face he nodded at you. “It tastes really...nostalgic.”

“How so?” you asked, curiosity taking over you.

“I uh..it’s a funny story actually, but...maybe for next time.” you hummed, nodding because you didn’t want to push him to do something out of his comfort zone.

After you ate, he had insisted on helping you to wash the dishes, claiming you had to let your hand rest.

"I noticed you've been coming to school more recently," you murmured casually, standing next to where he stood at the sink washing your dishes, seeing Lucas turn his head to look at you with a smirk.

"Well someone's pretty observant," he teased, a giggle leaving his lips as he looked back at the soapy dishes.

“What made you want to come?” you asked him, watching him pause his scrubbing at the dishes.

Lucas hummed in thought, pursing his lips before giving you a shrug, "Just, felt like it I guess."

“So...you didn't come to school before because you didn't feel like it?” you helped to put the dishes aside as he washed his hands, wiping them on his uniform as he let a small huff of half-hearted laughter leave his lips.

"Guess you could say that," he murmured.

“Weren’t you scared?”

Lucas turned to look at you with an eyebrow raised, “Of what?”

You frowned in confusion, “you know, don’t the teachers give you shit for not coming to school?”

He shook his head, walking back with you to your small dining table where the banners and posters were laid out. “They don’t really care anymore. But I’m planning on making a change this year!” he grinned at you, making you raise your eyebrows skeptically.

“You serious about that?” slightly surprised at his determination.

He nodded. “The serious-est.”

You let the conversation topic drop, with him taking a seat next to where you sat at the table and picked up on where he left off on the board, and you made yourself useful by doing whatever you could with your left hand, as well as telling him your ideas for the layout of the signboard and how you wanted to use the various materials. Though after a while Lucas had noticed you kept forgetting your wrist was injured and trying to help him cut things, nagging you for still trying to work when you should have been resting according to him.

“Lucas seriously, just let me help,” you insisted, a small pout on your lips.

“You can help me by resting,” he remained stubborn as ever, eventually leaving you to sit there and watch him.

You were surprised at how quickly he finished up the boards, just in time for when your grandma came home.

“Y/N! I’m back,” she called out, and you heard her soft shuffling get louder as she got closer to the dining table.

“Mama, I have a guest over,” you called out, hearing her squeal, practically running over to your room, her eyes lighting up when she saw Lucas.

“Xuxi?” You swore you'd never seen such a soft look in Lucas’ eyes before, seeing him get up to hug your grandma as if they’d known each other forever. “You’re so big now! I haven't seen you in so long,” she frowned playfully, making you even more confused.

“Do I wanna ask why?” you muttered, seeing Lucas’ cheeks tint pink in embarrassment, stepping back from your grandma and picking up his bag.

He brought a hand up to the side of his mouth in an action as if to whisper to you, mouthing a 'next time' to you with a soft smile,

“I hope Y/N has been good to you while you were here,” she looked at you pointedly, making you huff in exaggerated offence.

Lucas was quick to reply, shaking his head in dismissal, “oh, no it’s fine, I brought her home because she fell down the stairs in school, kind of messed up her wrist,” he gestured to his own wrist as he spoke, and your grandma's eyebrows knitted in concern.

“Oh gosh, sorry, she’s a clumsy one," she laughed, her hand reaching out to hold Lucas' hand in a rather delicate way, leaning in to whisper something to him you couldn't quite catch. You were beginning to feel as though you were the outsider here.

“Mama,” you whined, seeing the tiny crow’s feet beside her eyes appear as she laughed, shaking her head at you.

“You’d better be getting home, love, it’s getting late,” her tone was gentle as she spoke to him, and he nodded, bidding her goodbye before she left the room.

Lucas turned to face you, and you stood up, taking a step toward him, “I’ll be...heading off now,” he sounded almost breathless. “Rest your wrist, okay? see you,” he smiled at you, waving goodbye before he turned to leave.

You hadn't noticed you called him until he turned around, looking at you expectantly with his eyebrows raised, making you flush when your voice had sounded softer than you intended it to.

"Thanks, by the way, for helping me with the banners....I couldn't have finished it tonight without your help," you pressed your lips together in a tight-lipped smile, your hand reaching up to play with the lobe of your ear.

Stepping forward so he wasn't so far from you, he shook his head, "I'm glad I could help."

You felt for the first time as if you were watching yourself from a third person’s perspective, the way the wind suddenly seemed to be blowing at a perfect speed, and the music you could hear wafting outside from your grandma’s radio, to the way the streetlamp outside your house was casting the perfect shadow on Lucas’ face, right down to the way he smiled at you as if you were in a scene of a romantic drama ( that you were pretty sure if you were watching with Sicheng this would be the part you both start hitting each other excitedly )

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You were lost for words, almost breathless at his soft shy smile. “Goodnight, Lucas.”

===

The next time you had lessons and your wrist was already starting to heal, you braved through the soreness you felt in your wrist and did your best to make lunch for both you and Lucas, even adding a small compartment where you placed a small packet of candy you had in the house.

Wrapping it up nicely, it was safe to say Lucas was shocked when you had handed the lunchbox to him directly, gaze darting between you and the lunchbox as if searching for some sort of affirmation that it belonged to him.

You felt eyes on you from some of your classmates, all eager to see how Lucas would reject you like how he usually did to girls who gave him things like this, but you barely noticed their gasps and murmurs from how happy you were when he took the lunchbox into his large hands, smiling so widely to you his happiness practically radiated from him.

"Consider it...a 'thank you', for helping me the other day," you told him, seeing him nod at you gratefully,

He lifted the lid of the lunchbox slightly, eyes widening when he saw its contents and looking at you with bright eyes, "I really, wow uh, I just, I wasn't expecting this...you made this?" he gestured at the half-opened lunchbox with his index finger.

You nodded in reply, "I've been making almost all of Sicheng’s," you swore you saw his face flush at that, his eyes widening but went back to normal quickly.

"You're really good at it," he said firmly, as if trying to convince you. To which you simply shrugged in reply.

"Wasn't sure why you liked them so much, but it's... all I have to offer, really." You took your seat in front of him, doing your best to suppress your racing heart when he leaned forward, as if he knew your heart was racing and he intentionally wanted to make it worse. ( But little did you know his heart was practically pounding in his chest he almost couldn't concentrate )

"Trust me, it's all I need."

"How are you gonna pass it back to me?" you asked him after class, watching how he slung his bag over his shoulder so smoothly, watching the way his eyebrows would raise as he thought, his lips pushed out resembling a duck.

"I'm working after this, so you can just pass it to Sicheng, he'll hand it over to me," you suggested, not very keen on Lucas seeing the ruckus of the noodle shop during peak hours.

Glancing at your watch, your eyes widened in realisation of the time, "I've gotta get going, bye Lucas!" you waved, seeing him wave back with a smile, his loud "Bye!" making you laugh.

What you didn't notice until now was that Lucas was the kind of person that would seem quiet on the outside, but once he was comfortable enough with you ( which for him, seemed to have happened after you injured your wrist ), he would let his true colours show. For example, especially with regards to Lucas, you tended to hear him before you actually saw him in most situations.

Now when he saw you in school, he would bellow your name from afar before jogging up to you, his hair ruffled and his shirt untucked, tie askew. He was the kind of boy to get through the crowd and go through all the trouble of getting to you for the sake of a 'good morning' greeting, or wanting to walk to class together.

Of course you couldn't refuse, because of how he'd already gone through the trouble of finding you in the crowd, simply choosing to enjoy his company instead of pay any attention to the girls who stared at you with such envy or shock. But you barely paid them many attention, since Lucas himself seemed to command all of your attention whenever he was with you. You couldn’t say you were complaining though, not when he’d been smiling a lot more and looking happier in general.

Your grandma was out of town temporarily, since she had to visit her sick sister. You were currently in the noodle shop on a weekday evening, trying to wait tables as quickly as you could since the dinner crowd was starting to come in.

With your hair pulled back into a ponytail, you wiped the sweat on your brow with your sleeve, trying your best to take orders and make the food at the same time, all the while trying to ignore the soreness you felt in your wrist whenever you carried things on the heavier side. You had just seated a group of middle aged working men who clearly had a few drinks before coming here. They had always given your grandma trouble, so you were praying in your heart that they wouldn’t be as troublesome to deal with today as well.

You had brought their food to their table, the narrow aisle between the tables preventing you from manoeuvring yourself around the table to serve them individually, choosing to stand at the same place and trust that they could pass down their bowls themselves since you knew your wrist wouldn’t be able to take it.

“How have you been? Haven’t seen you helping your grandma out in a while,” the uncle next to where you stood had let his hand linger on your arm, an uncomfortable warmth lingering there as you tried to calm your racing heartbeat.

You hadn't noticed Lucas’ bicycle pulling up next to the store over the loud chatter in the store, as he stepped into the doorway of your humble shop, his eyes practically glaring daggers at the uncle whose hand was starting to creep down your back, resting on your bum as you wriggled in his hold.

The rest of them were busy in their own tipsy state, telling you just how much you’ve grown.

“I have to get back to work-” you felt a presence behind you before the uncle in front of you had his hands roughly taken off you by Lucas.

Lucas pulled you back protectively behind him, “I don’t think that’s very appropriate of you, she’s clearly uncomfortable.”

The men had recognised Lucas to be his mother’s son, looking at him with evident contempt before cursing under their breath and resuming with their meals.

He followed your quick steps into the kitchen as you hurriedly cooked another bowl of noodles.

“Thanks, for that, by the way,” you said in choppy intervals, the steam from the wok giving you a good excuse for the blush creeping onto your cheeks.

“There’s no need to thank me,” he murmured from where he stood in the kitchen, his arms folded over his chest as he leant against the doorframe yet making sure he didn't get in your way.

“What are you doing here?” you looked away from your cooking to stare at his ruffled hair and messy school uniform, and almost lost it at the smile he gave you when you made eye contact with him.

Lucas' hand came up out of habit to cover his mouth, trying to regain his composure before he remembered he wasn't at one of his family dinners with corporate guests and that he could just be himself without you, slowly lowering his hand and letting his smile show.

Lucas gestured to the lunchbox he'd placed on the empty table in the kitchen. “Here to return your lunchbox, remember?” you made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth in realisation, nodding in understanding.

“Is it just you running the store today?” you nodded, seeing him shake his head, not seeming to like the answer you gave him.

“I’ll help you, alright? I’ll wait the tables and seat them and all that stuff, you just focus on cooking here, we’ll get the crowd cleared in no time,” he flashed you another of his optimistic smiles, his hand coming up in a fist to cheer you on before putting on a small apron and carrying the bowls you made to where you told him to bring them to, figuring you weren't in any position to say no to him right now.

And he was right, in no time you were finished tending to the dinner crowd and he had sat himself at the counter as he watched you take a seat next to him, rolling your wrist around slightly in an attempt to soothe it.

“God, that was fast, like really fast, thank you so much. I can’t imagine how much longer I would’ve taken if it weren’t for you helping me,” you told him. Lucas shook his head with a loud sound of dismissal, waving his hand at you, “It’s no problem. How come your grandma's not here?”

“She’s out of town for the month...her sister’s sick so she went to visit her, so I stayed here to take care of the house and the shop and all, since it’s pretty much...all we have," you sighed, refusing to look at him as you anticipated a look of pity or for Lucas to look at you as if you weren't good enough.

“I like it,” you shot him a confused look, and he was prompted to continue, “the shop, I mean. It’s cozy and warm.”

“What are you talking about? We can barely feel the heating in here unless you’re in the kitchen,” you laughed, shoving his shoulder playfully, seeing him shake his head.

“The feeling,” he explained, making you smile at how genuine he sounded.

“Hey, you know, if you could use some help here after school I don’t mind helping you...you know, since your grandma is out and everything..” he trailed off, looking away nervously as he anticipated your answer.

You pretended to contemplate even though you knew what you wanted to say, but then reality hit you again.

“Lucas, you know, as much as I would love some help around here while my grandma is gone, we can’t afford to pay you.”

His answer came back in a heartbeat, looking at you with the most serious expression you’d ever seen from him, “I’ll work here for free.”

You scoffed in shock, not finding it in you to be able to believe him, “What? wha- why would you do that?” you frowned, seeing him shake his head at you, insistent on his proposal.

“I don’t want to work here for the money, I want to work here to help you.”

You felt like all of it was so surreal, even as you outstretched your hand for him jokingly, “well, then you’re hired, Lucas.”

“On one condition, though,” he added quickly before he shook your hand, so it stayed clasped in his, the warmth of his very much bigger hand causing butterflies to flit wildly in your tummy, “call me, Xuxi, it's my actual name, not Lucas.” You smiled, nodding as you shook his hand.

“Sure thing, Xuxi. ” The smile you saw on his face after that was your favourite by far.

===

Before you knew it, seeing Xuxi became a daily thing, you had started to get used to the way he would get flustered when he knocked things over in the kitchen, to the way he did silly dances for you to see from the kitchen when he was wiping up tables and stacking chairs.

The shop had attracted quite a new number of girl students as well, all eager to see Xuxi look charismatic and charming when he was working, but you had to admit you enjoyed seeing the different side of him for yourself when you two were closing up the store or preparing ingredients before it opened.

You absolutely loved how the Xuxi you got to know now was so different from the Lucas you had all thought out in your head. For instance, he would ask for you to teach him how to make the dumpling, then never make it ever again and insist you make it for him, since his ‘didn’t taste the same’. He would walk you home every day, and take you on his bike to school sometimes ( much to Sicheng’s amusement ), as well as drive you to the shop whenever he didn’t have basketball practice.

And with Lucas in the shop, that brought Ten and Sicheng's presence occasionally as well, always teasing you and Xuxi as if you two were a newly married couple that opened up the store, never failing to make Xuxi blush and make you scoff. And you had enjoyed getting to know Ten more, with how he would recommend you new music and lend you his cassette tapes and you would share with each other your reviews on the different artists.

What Sicheng always loved the most from this entire new arrangement was telling you how Xuxi was so excited to work every day that he could, so excited to go to school, a side he’d never seen in Xuxi before, which you would never admit to Sicheng that loved to hear you played a part in.

Out of your own pathetic attempt to keep modest, you would always tell Sicheng to stop making things up, but the boy was just dying to tell you how much Xuxi actually talks about you when he’s with Sicheng and Ten, which of course you didn’t hear because if you did Sicheng would be dead meat.

But you hadn’t known the fact that Xuxi thought you knew this fact all the while, and you only discovered this when you were walking back from the store one night, after he had bought your favourite ice cream for you as a means to celebrate the end of a long day. Enjoying the way everything ( which may or may not include Lucas ) looked and felt warm with the sunset in your line of sight.

“You know, I never would’ve thought you’d be this nice,” you murmured around a mouthful of ice cream.

You heard a gasp on his end, feigning hurt as he placed a large hand against his heart, “I’m hurt,” he laughed.

“For real! I always got scared when I saw you rejecting those girls who would write you love letters and buy you buns from the bakery in school.”

He made a face at that, licking his ice cream before replying you, “That’s because I was never interested, and I figured might as well let them know straight up instead of lead them on.”

“Why not? Some of them were actually really nice, you know?” you wondered out loud, licking a particularly substantial amount of ice cream at one go that it made the roof of your mouth sting, your features scrunching up in a grimace.

He shrugged simply, glancing down at you and smiling at the expression you made from the ice cream, “guess I wasn’t paying too much attention to them.”

“Yeah, cause you were too busy paying attention to my grandma?” you joked, searching his expression for a reaction only for him to remain unfazed.

“Maybe ‘cause she had such a pretty granddaughter,” he said nonchalantly, making you choke on your ice cream, stumbling slightly only for him to reach a hand out to steady you.

“Careful what you say, Xuxi, people might start rumours you like me,” you joked, trying to calm yourself down both from choking and from his words that caused you to choke, turning to frown at him when you heard no answer. Looking at him with your eyebrows raised expectantly, he made no move to act as though you were saying anything he objected to, simply shrugging at you.

"Not something entirely possible if you think about it," he told you, finishing up his ice cream. "I win!" he cheered, pointing at your still half-eaten ice cream, making you roll your eyes with a laugh.

"Doesn't count, I didn't know we were competing," you shoved him playfully, laughter bubbling out of your lips uncontrollably at the way he stumbled back dramatically, using his bike to hold him up.

You were interrupted by his phone ringing, and his expression changed the moment he saw who was calling. “I have to go, I’ll be seeing you soon, then?”

You frowned. “Not tomorrow?” he shook his head,

“I’m pretty packed this week with basketball finals, you can uh...come for my game if you want.” you nodded, bidding him goodnight.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” you chuckled at how cheesy the scene was, feeling once again like this was a scene you would see in those dramas you would watch with Sicheng on his tv, waving him off as he laughed cutely, cycling off home, leaving you smiling like an idiot to yourself.

===

Lucas returned to his house, only to see his mother exactly how he had a feeling he would find her--in the living room with an almost empty bottle of wine next to her, her glass perched dangerously at the edge of the coffee table she was sitting next to, crying into the empty glass, not even bothering to look up when she heard Lucas enter the house.

She sobbed, grabbing the sleeves of Lucas' shirt when he had crouched down in front of her, the impact causing his bag strap to slide nearer to his neck uncomfortably. His mother had hiccupped, her breathing erratic from how hard she was crying, letting her head slump on his shoulder. The sight being nothing new to Lucas, he carefully nudged the wine glass nearer to the centre of the table, slowly peeling her hands from his sleeves.

"Ma. Hey, listen to me, you need to stop thinking he's still coming back," he looked resolutely into her eyes that resembled his so much, except hers were so filled with pain, whereas Lucas' were just filled with pity at how his father had managed to leave his mother in such a state once again- without even having to be physically there to cause it.

Lucas hadn't seen his father in months, the only sign of his existence being that he would send money to his family at the start of each month, and the action would always leave his mother at a loss, since he knew he spent each month hoping that the start of the next month would be greeted with his person instead of just his money.

"You don't understand, Lucas. He told me he was coming back," she cried, hot tears streaming down her face quickly, making anger bubble in Lucas, spilling out before he could control it.

"Yeah, when? That was months ago," he told her, making her frown at him.

"Don't say that. He loves me, he wouldn't do this to me."

"Don't say what, ma? I'm telling you the truth! He's left and he doesn't plan on coming back anytime soon, it’s not like he’s contacted you ever since he left," he told her, his voice raising in an attempt to get his words in her head more.

"Don't raise your voice at me!" she stood up, abruptly, albeit a little unstable, judging from how she leaned on the armrest of the sofa for support.

"You can't keep waiting for him, you know. You're going to reach your limit at one point," he told her, desperately wanting to get through to her and put an end to both their suffering.

"You," she pointed a finger at him condescendingly at him, prodding at his chest roughly, "don't get to decide my limits for me. I need him to come back, he's all I have." Lucas’ mouth shut at that, he knew his mother’s first priority was his father, but she had never said anything like this to Lucas before. And now that he had heard it, it hurt him more than anything.

"So I’m just nothing, then? Just someone to clean up your shit every time you get drunk and you act like a goddamned child?" Lucas was blinded by his hurt now, his words escaping him faster than he could process them, "please, if he loved you so much he wouldn't have left in the first place."

Lucas's mother was absolutely furious, not knowing how to retaliate, so she did what she always did. Looking for the nearest moveable object near her, which just so happened to be the empty wine bottle, she hurled it towards her son, Lucas having to bring his arms up to try and block it as she looked for more things to throw at him, seemingly directing her anger towards her husband to her only son.

"Ma, stop it!" Lucas' shouts went unnoticed, his mother picking up a pillow to hurl it at him roughly, his mother chucking the wine glass at Lucas, which had happened to shatter on the wall where he was standing next to, the glass pieces shattering and nicking Lucas on the face slightly. Only upon the sight of blood on her son’s face did Lucas’ mother realize what she had done, already feeling absolutely horrible about it.

Her grip on the item she was holding loosened, letting it fall with a soft thump onto the cushion of the sofa. Lucas’ eyes widened, his hand coming up to touch his cheek and wince at the sight of the red on his fingers when he pulled his hand away from his face.

“Honey-” Lucas held a hand up, flinching slightly when his mother tried to take a step towards him, taking steps away from her as he felt himself shaking from sheer anger and hurt.

He didn’t want to fight with her, that was the last thing he wanted, yet it seemed to be the only thing he got nowadays.

Shrugging his bag onto his shoulder, he left the house as quickly as he could, not bothering to close the door gently in his hurry to leave. He made his way to Ten’s house, who simply greeted him with a sad smile and let him in, no questions asked, when he saw Lucas at his doorstep, face cut and chest heaving from the angry tears he was shedding.

===

You weren’t surprised when you hadn’t seen Lucas show up to school the next day, not daring to ask any questions when Sicheng showed up at your doorstep to send you to school with a very tired-looking Ten.

You had no means of contacting Lucas, only hoping that he would decide to come to the noodle shop or even to basketball practice so you could talk to him, but even that didn’t happen.

Sicheng noticed the slight dulling of your mood after a few days had passed and Lucas still hadn’t shown up to school, trying to make you feel better by telling you he was okay.

“That’s not the point, Sicheng, I want to actually see for myself that he’s okay. I thought he was actually getting back on track, you know?” Sicheng nodded, understanding where you were coming from but not knowing how to comfort you.

Ten had told him prior to that day that Lucas absolutely refused to talk about what had happened, choosing to simply coop himself up in Ten’s guest room all day, only ever coming out to eat and even then it didn’t look like he was enjoying himself very much. Which of course was an abnormality in Lucas’ case.

What Ten wasn’t aware of was that when Lucas had returned to the house the day after the incident, he’d found a note his mother left for him, saying she was going to look for his father, and that she wouldn’t come back unless she was coming back with him. The last sentence of the letter not even a small ‘I love you’ but instead a reassurance that she would send him allowance every month.

Lucas figured he needed time to cool off and figure out what he was going to do now before he could even go back to see you- despite desperately wanting to do so. But he didn’t want to see you like this, not when he was preoccupied with all his thoughts you knew nothing about.

“I know,” Sicheng murmured, turning to you with a tight-lipped expression. “Just give him some time, he’ll be back in time for the game, then you can have a proper talk with him or whatever,” Sicheng sighed, standing up and offering you a hand to help you up.

“How about some ice cream?”

===

The day of the sports meet had arrived, the basketball nationals being the highlight of the day, and almost your entire school had gathered at the spectator stands to watch the game. With Sicheng next to you, you saw the home team arriving in the court, a small part of you relieved when you saw Xuxi on the court, next to Ten, looking perfectly fine and happy.

So you went through the game doing whatever you figured a supporter should do, raise your giant banner with Sicheng and cheer for your school’s team, especially when Xuxi or Ten would make a particularly impressive pass or score.

Thankfully, they had won, so you figured their spirits were still high by the time they finished their team debrief and were dismissed. You were standing outside the room waiting for Xuxi and Ten with Sicheng. You looked up expectantly when you heard the double doors of the school entrance open, only to huff in disappointment when you realized it was just another one of Xuxi’s teammates, Kun.

You kicked at the ground absentmindedly before you felt Sicheng start to nudge you, his nudging growing more rapid as the seconds passed, making you look up at him with an annoyed expression.

“What?” you asked, seeing his face scrunch up, trying his best to gesture to your opposite direction with his eyes without making it to obvious.

“Hey,” you turned to the direction of the voice only to see that it was Kun, looking at you with a soft smile, his hand gripping the strap of the duffel bag he had slung across his chest. Sicheng looked away so his staring wouldn’t make Kun uncomfortable, though he was intently listening to your conversation with Kun.

“Y/N, right?” you nodded. “Uh...I wanted to thank you for coming to the game,” he smiled sweetly at you, his voice matching his expression.

You shook your head in dismissal, “Oh, it’s nothing, really. I mean, Ten and Xu- I mean Lucas, are my friends too so I just, you know…thought I should support them.” You saw him nod in understanding, glancing up at you again, looking almost nervous.

“I was actually wondering if you would like to go watch a movie with me one of these days? It’ll be my treat, I kind of want to get to know you better....I mean, you don’t have to say yes but it’d be nice...if you did.”

Sicheng let out a small snort, making you kick his leg firmly, all the while still smiling at Kun.

I mean, it wasn’t as if you didn’t like the idea of a date with Kun, you just...would prefer if it was a date with Xuxi, to put things simply.

“Would you let me have some time to think about it? Can I let you know by like…next week?” you asked, seeing him nod at you, that same sweet smile appearing on his face.

“Of course, no problem, have a goodnight,” he smiled at you, Sicheng taking that as his queue to turn back around and exchanged a nod with Kun as a goodbye, practically bursting into laughter when Kun was out of sight.

“Poor Kun, doesn’t know he’s gonna be waiting the whole weekend for a rejection,” he snickered, making you roll your eyes, shoving him as you saw the double doors open again and Ten and Lucas walk out, laughing about something while looking for you and Sicheng in the area.

“Okay, shut up, no more talk about this or Ten will mock both Kun and me,” you shoved him, your glare softening and a small smile appearing on your face when you saw Xuxi.

He smiled widely, waving at you and Sicheng, the both of you making your way over to them and walking out of the school grounds together.

You walked in pairs, Ten and Sicheng walking in front on purpose so you and Xuxi would have to walk next to each other.

“You played really well, today,” you told him as a passing comment, seeing him let out a shy laugh, muttering a small ‘thank you’ to you.

“Have you eaten dinner yet?” he asked you, you shook your head in reply.

“Not yet, I was kind of just feeling like some ice cream.”

His smile brightened at that, nodding at you eagerly, “Me too!”

He bent down, half leaning towards you to whisper, “should we ditch them?” he used a finger to gesture to the pair walking in front of you, watching you give him a hesitant look.

He shot you a pleading look, his eyes closed and his palms together in front of him, rubbing them together in a begging action, making you smack him on the shoulder, covering your mouth in a poor attempt to stifle your laugh.

Ten and Sicheng already having anticipated your next sentence with all the giggling they were hearing behind them.

“Hey, uh guys, me and Y/N are gonna detour and get some ice cream. Catch you guys next week?”

Not without shooting each other a knowing look, Ten and Sicheng pretended to be upset before waving the both of you off quickly, wanting this to happen more than anybody.

You walked with Xuxi in the silence to the small convenience stand, Xuxi paying for the ice cream, and you ripped open the packet quickly, walking with him back in the direction of your neighbourhood.

“Thanks for paying for the ice cream,” you said, a little belatedly, making him huff in amusement, using his free hand to ruffle your hair in reply, the action making you blush unexpectedly.

Xuxi started to walk towards the direction of the small playground you were nearing, the both of you silently taking a seat on either of the two swings, Xuxi ditching his bag on the ground to sit comfortably.

“Are you okay?” you asked, chewing on the small bit of your ice cream you’d bitten off by accident, “you were gone for really long.”

Xuxi scoffed teasingly, “I was gone for like 5 days.”

“Well it was long for me, okay,” you huffed, “It was weird...going from seeing you every day to not seeing you suddenly.”

Xuxi bit his lip, licking the ice cream that had gotten on his lips as he turned his head to glance at you, his legs pushing the ground gently to swing himself lightly.

“My mom left,” he murmured. Abruptly raising his hand for his palm to face you, “And before you start feeling stressed ‘cause you don’t know what to say and all that, I’m alright if you don’t know what to say. I mean, neither did I, I spent 4 days not knowing what to even feel about it.”

You ate your ice cream quietly as he spoke, processing what Xuxi was trying to tell you. A small part of you understanding a little bit of how lonely he may have felt since you had found yourself in a somewhat similar situation when you were young.

“She told me she wasn’t coming back until my dad comes back with her, so...I took that as a ‘I’m not coming back at all’,” he used his fingers to make air quotes, shrugging afterward as he took a bite from his popsicle, “but I’ll live, I guess....I have to.”

“That’s really strong of you, Xuxi,” you murmured, seeing him turn to you, expression blank before he smiled softly.

“I have you by my side, so I’ll make it through this no matter what,” he grinned, turning his attention back to his ice cream.

“I’ll hold you to that,” you joked, suddenly thinking of Kun’s proposal just now after the basketball game, debating on whether to tell Xuxi but something inside you ( that strangely sounded like Sicheng ) was telling you to just do it.

“Kunaskedmeout,” you blurted, seeing him turn to you with a raised eyebrow, a small hum of confusion leaving his lips.

“Kun, he...asked if I wanted to go watch a movie with him when I was waiting for you and Ten to come out just now,” you told him, gauging his expression carefully as you told him, “I mean, at first I was kind of hesitant because I was kind of worried about how I would pay for the movie ticket but then he said he was paying and all so...I guess it’s not so bad?”

Tell me not to go. Your eyes pleaded, watching intently at the way he took his time to nibble on the last bits of his ice cream, holding up a hand as if telling you to wait as he stood up from the swing, taking your empty ice cream wrapper to dispose of them together, returning to you with a serious expression on his face. Stopping in front of where you were sitting, he leaned down so his head was level with yours, eyes narrowing at you, before straightening up.

“Don’t go.” he told you casually, sitting back down on the swing.

Your mouth gaped, unsure of what to make of his reaction. You looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, pursing your lips before speaking.

“You don’t think I should go?”

He looked at you with a blank expression, shrugging nonchalantly, “you shouldn’t go if you don’t want to,” he reminded you, his shoes scuffing on the ground as he rocked the swing back and forth.

“What makes you think I don’t want to?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

He shrugged, “maybe the way you told me about it? But of course, I could just be assuming, so go, have fun with Kun if that’ll make you happy,” he laughed, making you frown at him.

“But...” you started, though there was no other way to say this other than to admit you wanted Lucas to tell you not to go.

Lucas stopped swinging, looking at you expectantly, with a small glint of mischief in his eyes and a smirk playing at his lips.

“But? Is there a problem with what I just said?”

“Yes, a very big problem,” you told him, a small pout playing at your lips.

“Why is that?” He prodded you some more, to the point where you threw away your anxiousness, exasperatedly admitting to the tall boy,

“The problem is that I don’t wanna go ‘have fun’ with Kun because I like you!” you blurted.

He looked at you, pressing his lips together, before his eyes crinkled into crescents as he smiled.

As if nothing had happened, Lucas stood up, dusting off the imaginary dust from his track pants, slinging his bag on his shoulder, using his hand to shield the non-existent sun from his eyes as he looked up at the sky, “It’s getting late, let’s get you home.”

It was an understatement to say you were upset as Lucas walked you home. You felt so humiliated, that he would have the audacity to ignore the fact that you’d just confessed how you felt towards him, making you huff in annoyance when you realized you had reached your doorstep.

Not looking at him, you glared at his chest, being the only thing at your eye level, about to say goodbye when you felt him pull you into a hug. Not just any kind of lazy armed, lean-in goodbye hug, but an actual, warm, comforting hug, a hug of greeting instead of parting.

He let his head rest on top of yours gently, and you heard his laugh vibrate in his chest slightly, as his hand went up to pat the back of your head gently.

“I’m glad,” he told you.

You frowned, pulling away to see him look down at you, his hair flopping over his eyes only slightly as he gave you what you had deemed as your favourite smile of his, where his eyes would shut tightly and his mouth form the cutest grin you had ever seen.

And for the third time, you’d felt transported into one of the romantic dramas, you could practically hear Sicheng saying matter-of-factly, ‘he’s totally gonna confess’, which you would always reply with a shush, wanting to savour the moment.

Opening his eyes, Lucas reached one of his hands reached down to hold your hand, “because I like you too.”

It was as if you had become hyper-aware of your surroundings, the way your heart was beating at a steady pace for once, and how gently Lucas was holding your hand, to the way the moonlight was so bright today, being the perfect backdrop for this moment you wanted to capture in your head and remember forever.

Letting go of your hand after a while, it was as if things were moving in slow motion when Lucas leaned over to plant a shy kiss on your cheek, pulling away and covering the lower half of his face with his hand, hiding his blush from you.

This time, you smiled at him first, “Goodnight, Xuxi.”

He had to look away to compose himself since he was smiling so widely, turning back to you and nodding at you, waving his hand as he’d started taking slow steps back, desperate to run home so he could giggle and be shy about this in the privacy of his room.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

502 notes · View notes

thecassadilla · 4 years

Text

Pining for the Fjords

Word Count: 5,736/AO3 Link

Pairing: Kristanna

Summary: Kristoff Bjorgman has the ability to bring the dead back to life with the touch of a finger - and only a few rules. After joining forces with a private detective, Kristoff finds himself in a difficult position when he brings his childhood sweetheart, Anna, back from the dead.

The only condition is that they can never touch each other, or else Anna will die, again - but this time, it will be permanent.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! Despite feeling quite burned out, I somehow managed to write another fic (I have no self-control). This is a Pushing Daisies!AU. If you haven’t watched the show, I highly recommend it - and if you live in the United States (and possibly elsewhere, but I don’t know for sure), it’s free on cwseed! I can provide a link for anyone who is interested! Pushing Daisies is one of my favorite shows - it’s morbid, grotesque, and mysterious, but also sickly sweet and fairytale-esque. And the visuals and aesthetics are stunning. It’s also from 2007, which is where I’m convinced I left my brain. This fic draws heavily from the source material, but you don’t have to be familiar with it to understand this fic. Will this be continued? I have no idea. I don’t make decisions lol. I hope you enjoy it!

(As a disclaimer/trigger warning, death is spoken about *a lot* in this fic and there is a temporary major character death. If the thought of any of that makes you uncomfortable, I would advise you not to read this fic.)

Pining for the Fjords - a euphemism for death. “Used to describe a dead person or animal as a way of convincing somebody that the corpse is not, in fact, dead,” Urban Dictionary.

Kristoff Bjorgman had a gift. It wasn’t a gift that was nicely packaged with a bow on top, and was rather quite morbid - he could touch someone who had died and bring them back to life. As simple as it sounded, there were terms and conditions that went along with this gift. The first was that he could bring the deceased back to life for one minute only, or someone else would die as a consequence. An eye for an eye, so to speak. The second was that, if he allowed the person he touched to remain alive, he could never touch them again. Or else they would die, again - but this time it would be forever.

He learned about this arrangement the hard way; as a young child, he hadn’t been exposed to death. At the age of ten, while running in a field with his beloved dog, he would learn about death, and subsequently, his gift, the hard way. For, his dog, Sven, would run into the middle of the street and be struck by a semi-truck before his very own eyes.

He would race over to the side of his now-deceased dog, and gently rest a hand on the side of his limp body, only for the dog to become reanimated and jump off the ground. In that moment, he was unaware of the consequences of bringing Sven back to life - not too far away, a squirrel would die in place of Sven.

He returned home that afternoon, with Sven in tow, happily trotting beside him. Across the street from his home lived a pair of sisters; he would often play with the younger of the two, a girl named Anna. In the grand scheme of things, his gift seemed insignificant, for he had fallen in love with Anna. She, herself, was a gift to Kristoff - curious, imaginative, fun, and fearless - and they spent many hours enjoying each other’s company.

As he watched her play with her father on her family’s lawn from his kitchen window, tragedy would strike for the second time that day. His mother, who had a knack for baking pies, would collapse on the kitchen floor, mere inches from him. Suddenly, his newfound gift would once again prove itself useful. He would slowly approach her body and crouch down next to it, hesitantly touching his index finger to his arm. Immediately, she would gasp for air and rise off the ground, completely unaware of what had happened.

Unfortunately, the clock continued to tick away, and once sixty seconds had passed, the first caveat of Kristoff’s gift would make itself known. He watched in silent horror as Anna’s father collapsed on the grass across the street, in front of his helpless friend. An eye for an eye; one life in exchange for another.

The second caveat of Kristoff’s gift would make itself known later that evening; his mother tucked him into bed, and upon placing a goodnight kiss to his forehead, would fall to the floor once again. Only this time, she could not be brought back. And thus he learned that he could never touch a resurrected life, or they would die permanently. It meant he could never pet Sven again. It meant that his mother and Anna’s father became unwitting, and unfortunate, consequences of his gift.

At their respective parent’s funerals, happening just mere feet from each other, Kristoff and Anna, overcome with grief and puppy love, would have their first and only kiss.

Immediately following his mother’s funeral, officials from the state would collect Kristoff and take him away from his life, while Anna would remain in the house across the street from his, with her mother and sister. Kristoff would avoid any and all social attachments, fearing what he’d do if someone else he loved died.

Little did he know, fifteen years later, his life would be turned upside down yet again.

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

At the age of twenty-five, Kristoff would find himself in the midst of an unusual business arrangement. Now the owner of a run-down, failing musical instrument shop, and lonely as ever, a chance encounter with a private detective would change his life once again.

Though Kristoff managed to keep his deep secret to himself for nearly a decade and a half, luck would find him in the wrong place at the wrong time. In the alley behind his shop, as he was throwing out garbage, a man would practically fall from the sky - technically, from the roof of the building - and hit his head on the edge of the dumpster. As luck would have it, the dead man would brush against Kristoff and return to life. Unfortunately for the now undead man, he wouldn’t get to live much longer, as Kristoff was constantly reminded of the two caveats to his gift. Unwilling to have a random person in proximity die, with another simple touch the undead man was once again dead. Unfortunately for Kristoff, there was another man on the roof who witnessed the entire thing - Private Detective Olaf Olson.

“So, how long have you been a necromancer?” The detective asked, once they reconvened inside Kristoff’s empty shop.

Kristoff anxiously rubbed the palms of his hands along the sides of his pants and shook his head. “I’m not a necromancer - at least, I don’t think I am. Is that what I am? Oh god.”

Olaf narrowed his eyes. “How long have you been able to raise the dead?”

He shrugged. “I dunno, my whole life?”

“And nobody ever thought to have you tested? Or send you off to the circus?”

“Nobody else knows - except you. And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone.”

“Mhmm,” Olaf agreed, sucking in his lower lip and giving Kristoff a scrutinizing glare. He motioned around the shop. “How’s business around here, boss?”

“Um, it’s fine,” he answered, nervously.

“Doesn’t seem to be too busy.”

“I mean, it’s not but...it’s fine.”

Olaf raised a hand to his face. “Well, the good news is that I have a business proposal for you.”

Kristoff’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Yeah?”

“You see, everyday in this city, dead people turn up. Sometimes, these people are murdered without an idea as to who killed them. And when this happens, there’s usually a reward for figuring out who the killer is - a big reward. I get us in to see the body, you take advantage of your party trick, and we split the reward fifty-fifty.”

And so, they did. It was easy, albeit dirty, money. The arrangement itself was rather simple; Olaf was made aware of the terms and conditions, and normally the “transactions” went smoothly. The two men were awarded privacy in the morgue, so long as the coroner was paid off, and Kristoff would set his watch for sixty seconds, ask the deceased who killed them, and then promptly return them to being dead. For a few months, it worked really well, and Kristoff was able to keep his struggling business afloat. He was able to justify it all because it brought justice to the bad people of the world. Until the winter morning that everything got flipped on its head.

It was a quiet day in January, and Kristoff was sitting in his apartment, which was situated above his shop. The television was on in the background as he lounged on the couch with a bowl of cereal, his dog Sven on the floor a few feet away. Suddenly, the tone of the news program changed to alert its viewers of breaking news.

“The body of a young woman has been found in a snow bank directly outside of a popular ski resort,” the news reporter announced. “While her name is being withheld at this time, it has been confirmed that she was traveling alone at the time of her death. Officials are still unsure if foul play was involved, or if this was some kind of tragic accident.”

Kristoff’s attention was immediately drawn to the unnamed dead woman. For some reason he couldn’t explain, he had an icy, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach about her. And sure enough, later that day, all of his fears would be confirmed.

It was nearing mid-afternoon when Olaf walked into his empty shop. He was sitting on a stool behind a counter, when the other man walked up and placed a folded newspaper on the counter.

“How’s it going, pal?”

“It’s going,” Kristoff answered, glancing down at the paper.

“You've been keeping up with the news?”

“Of course,” he nodded. “It’s all about that dead girl.”

“Cops think she was murdered - no idea who did it, though. Autopsy said she was suffocated, so she was already dead when they put her in the snow. Big reward.”

“Yeah?” He asked, feigning aloofness.

Olaf narrowed his eyes. “Are you playing stupid?”

“No, why would you think that?”

“Because I just told you that the dead girl was probably murdered and that there was a lot of money to find her killer, and you’re the only one who can find out who that bastard is.”

Kristoff stared blankly at the other man.

“The clock is ticking. They’re hauling her body to the cemetery today.”

“So soon?”

“No friends, one family member. No point in letting her fester. Are you in or not?”

“Do I have a choice?” Kristoff asked drily.

“Good answer. Now let’s get moving, we have a long drive and you need to change your clothes.”

He glanced down at his outfit before standing up and walking around the counter. “Where are we going, exactly?”

“A small town called Arendelle.”

He swallowed, unsure if he heard the detective correctly. “Arendelle?”

“Yeah, are you familiar with it?” Olaf asked, picking his newspaper up off of the counter, folding it up, and tucking it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.

Kristoff nodded. “I grew up there. Until I was ten.”

“Well, I hope you’re ready to go back.”

“Do you…?” he started, then trailed off. He was almost afraid to ask.

The other man looked at him pointedly. “Do I what?”

“Her name,” he spit out. “Do you know her name?”

“Anna Andersen.” He pronounced the first “A” in her name incorrectly; pronouncing it like the “a” in “apple” instead of like the “a” in “alms.”

“Anna,” he whispered, correcting the other man’s pronunciation.

The detective cocked an eyebrow. “You know her?”

“She lived across the street from me,” he answered, simply. It wasn’t enough to convince the other man.

“Seems like she was more than just a neighbor.”

“I haven’t seen her since I was ten,” he shrugged, though a profuse blush was spreading across his cheeks.

“Mmhmm,” Olaf acknowledged, though he remained unconvinced. “Well, we better get moving.

And the next thing Kristoff knew, they were on the road. He wasn’t quite sure how he ended up driving, though he was grateful for the distraction. His mind was spinning; he couldn’t believe that she was gone, forever, and worse, that he was going to be forced to have one measly minute with her when he selfishly wanted more. He wasn’t even sure if she’d remember him after so much time had passed - perhaps if she didn’t, it would make it easier on him. And then there was the other problem - should he mention that he’s the reason her father died?

His heart started palpitating as they drove past the cheerfully colored “Welcome to Arendelle” sign, and it only worsened as they pulled up in front of the funeral home. It was so loud that he was positive that Olaf could hear it.

He was overcome with a wave of nausea as he stood unmoving by the car, staring up at the looming building. It wasn’t until Olaf, now a few feet ahead, cleared his throat and motioned for him to follow. He did, shoving his hands into his pockets. He watched as the detective handed the funeral director a wad of cash, and the two men were led to a room at the end of the hallway.

“Would you mind if I did this one alone?” Kristoff asked, once the funeral director was out of earshot. They hadn’t entered the room yet, and were standing in front of the still-closed door. “Because I knew her?”

“What could you possibly have to say to her that you can’t say in front of me?” Olaf shot back, obviously offended by Kristoff’s proposal. “We’re here to find out who killed her.”

“I know, but she was my friend,” he begged, a few beads of sweat starting to gather by his hairline. “I could use the closure.”

“Fine,” Olaf grumbled. “But you better ask who killed her first.”

“I will.”

“And remember, you have one minute. Not a second longer.” His tone was stern, and he raised a finger as a warning.

“I know the rules,” Kristoff assured him. “Wait in the car?”

Olaf muttered something under his breath, but willingly walked away from the situation. Kristoff held his breath and pushed open the door to the room; it was small, and in the center was a shiny white casket. He hesitantly approached it, trying to gain his composure. The entire thing was surreal; he felt like this was some kind of twisted dream. Acknowledging the fact that he didn’t have much time, he opened the casket and looked down.

She looked ethereal; just like he remembered, but obviously much older. She was wearing an off-white lace dress, her hair parted down the center and each half was neatly draped over her shoulders. Bile rose in his throat as he stared at her, unsure if he could do it. Though it would bring her killer to justice, he was also being selfish.

After another moment or two of looking at her, he decided it was time. He set the timer on his watch, slowly brought his trembling hand to her face, and delicately tapped her cheek with his index finger before taking a step back. She sucked in a breath of air and her eyes flew open. And then she jumped out of the casket.

“I’ll kill you!” She yelled, grabbing the first thing she could - which just so happened to be a candelabra off the fireplace next to the coffin.

“Anna, stop!” He begged, bringing his hands up to his face to protect it in case she decided to throw the candelabra at him. “It’s me - Kristoff - from across the street.”

The look of anger that had shrouded her face quickly faded away and a look of relief washed over her instead. Her hand went limp and the candelabra fell to the floor. “Kristoff.”

She took a few steps toward him with her arms reached forward, prepared to pull him into a hug. He stepped backwards, eventually colliding with the wall. “You can’t touch me,” he warned.

“Oh.” Her arms fell to her sides and she glanced over at the coffin. “That’s mine isn’t it?”

He swallowed. “Yes. Do you know what happened?”

“I mean, I was hoping that it was all a dream. That I wasn’t suffocated to death with a pillow.”

“You were,” he frowned. “I’m really sorry.”

She blinked a few times, placing a hand on the edge of the casket, but she didn’t say anything.

So, he spoke again. The clock was ticking. “While there’s a lot I’m sure we both want to say, we have less than a minute. So, I have to ask - do you know who killed you, Anna?”

She shook her head, her eyes cast downward. “I don’t - I was sleeping. I didn’t wake up until the pillow was over my face. I’m sorry.”

Kristoff exhaled harshly, feeling defeated. They wouldn’t be able to bring her killer to justice. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“How much time do I have left?”

He glanced down at his watch. “Forty seconds, give or take.”

She gave him a sad smile. “That’s not enough, I have so much to say. All those years, I wondered what happened to you. You just disappeared. I kept hoping that you would come back, but...you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry, I -” he was trying to find the words, but it was difficult. He had so much that he wanted to say. None of this was fair. “The state took me away and sold the house.”

“Well, since I don’t have much time left, I just want you to know that I missed you a lot. And I never stopped thinking about you.”

“I never stopped thinking about you, either,” he confessed. “Life just...wasn’t the same without you.”

“I wish things would’ve worked out differently,” she sighed. “My time is almost up, isn’t it?”

He took another look at his watch before nodding solemnly. Twenty-five seconds.

“I’m glad that you were the last person I got to see before...you know.” She huffed a nervous laugh. “Um, if it’s not too much, could you tell my sister that I’m sorry? And that I love her?”

“Of course,” he promised, though he wasn’t sure if Elsa would be keen to visitors.

“And I hope this isn’t too forward, considering we haven’t seen each other in so long, but I want you to know that I always had feelings for you, and they never went away.”

“Me too,” he said, quickly, a blush creeping over his face. “I mean, my feelings for you never went away, either.”

“How does this work?” She asked. “You just touch me again, and that’s it?”

“Yeah,” he answered, wishing that it wouldn’t have to be this way.

She nodded once, inhaling deeply. “Okay.”

He took a slow step toward her. They had less than ten seconds left now.

“You could kiss me,” she blurted out suddenly. “That probably sounds crazy but it would bookend everything. You would be my first kiss and my last kiss.”

His breath hitched in his throat, and he nodded, willing to grant her her dying wish. She closed her eyes, and he leaned down, ready to press his lips to hers and then promptly catch her limp body. But instead, he took a step backwards.

She opened her eyes and looked over at him. “What are you doing? Isn’t my minute up?”

Though he was grotesquely aware of the consequences, he had already made his decision. He didn’t want to live his life without her, as selfish as that was. “What if you didn’t have to die?”

“That would definitely be preferable,” she said, a look of relief washing over her features.

“Okay, look, I’m not supposed to do this because there are grave consequences,” he said in one quick breath. “But I can’t just let you die, again.”

“What are the consequences?”

He closed his eyes, ashamed to admit the truth. “Someone else has to die in your place.”

Her face fell. “Oh.”

“But it’s already too late,” he assured her, waving his hands rapidly. “I know it’s selfish of me, but I’m not ready to let you go.”

The corners of her lips quirked up slightly. “I’m not ready to let you go, either.”

“Great,” he huffed a sigh of relief. “We have a lot to talk about, though. And we have to get out of here.”

“I can’t just walk out of here,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I’m supposed to be dead.”

He glanced rapidly around the room. “The casket. You have to get back inside.”

“Okay,” she agreed, climbing back in.

“Now, just lay really still,” he directed her. “I’m going to follow the hearse to the cemetery.”

She nodded, and he closed the lid. Wiping the sweat off of his brow, he hastily opened the door and raced out of the funeral home. As expected, Olaf was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, reading his newspaper.

“How did it go?” The detective asked, as soon as Kristoff hopped into the car.

“Uh, it went well.”

Olaf cocked his head. “Did you find out who killed her?”

“No, she didn’t know,” he answered, as he started the car.

“Of course not,” the detective groaned. “Did you get your closure, at least?”

He was staring at his rearview mirror, trying to catch the moment the hearse pulled away from the building. “Sort of.”

“Why aren’t you driving?”

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted to go to the cemetery and see the burial.”

Olaf narrowed his eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, sorry. It shouldn’t take long.”

“I knew I should’ve driven,” he sneered, unable to hide his annoyance.

A few moments later, the hearse was driving down the street and Kristoff was following closely behind. The cemetery was a short drive away, and because no one was going to be attending the burial, that in itself was going to be quick. He had to come up with a plan.

The two men sat in the car and watched as the casket was brought over to the plot of land where it was going to be buried. Finally, Kristoff got out of the car and walked over, just in time to see it get lowered a few feet into the ground.

“Hey,” he said to the gravediggers, who turned their attention away from the shovels in their hands. He pointed towards the entrance of the cemetery. “There were some kids near the front. I think they were defacing one of the stones.”

The two men quickly dropped their shovels and raced toward the pickup truck parked a few feet away from Kristoff’s car. As soon as they drove off, he got onto the ground and opened the lid to the casket.

“Thanks for coming back,” Anna smiled.

“After all that, you thought I was going to just leave you here?”

“No,” she giggled. “I’m just really happy you came back.”

He smiled down at her. “Come on, we have to go.”

He wished he could help her out, but luckily, it wasn’t a difficult climb. As soon as she was back on the grass, he closed the lid to the casket.

“My car is right over there,” he said, pointing at the old car. He still hadn’t decided how he was going to explain this to Olaf, but it didn’t matter at this point. It was already done.

She squinted at it. “Is someone in your car?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s Olaf. He’s my...business partner?” What he also hadn’t thought of was that he was going to have to explain who Olaf was to her and the unorthodox partnership that they had arranged. He decided to cross that bridge when they came to it.

The two of them climbed into the car, Kristoff in the driver’s seat and Anna in the backseat. Upon hearing both doors close, the formerly distracted Olaf turned his attention to the new passenger, and then to Kristoff.

“Kristoff,” he said, a fake smile plastered across his face. “Who’s your friend?”

“I’m Anna,” she answered cheerfully.

The fake smile remained. “Why is the dead girl in your car and not in the ground?”

“I needed closure,” Kristoff shrugged.

“Your closure was supposed to last sixty seconds.”

“To be fair,” Anna chimed in, “there is a lot of history here. A minute wasn’t long enough.”

Kristoff nodded along with her statement.

The detective was seething. “Does she know about the terms and conditions that came along with her newfound gift of life? That someone else died in her place?”

“She’s aware,” Anna answered, referring to herself in third person. “She’s not thrilled about it, but she’s extremely grateful that she’s alive.”

“And you both acknowledge that I could’ve been the one to die in her place, right?”

“That’s why I asked you to wait in the car,” Kristoff explained.

“You were planning on doing this all along?!”

“No! Yes? I don’t know, I wanted options!” He exclaimed, starting to feel a little flustered. “Look, it’s over. I’m going to start driving now, we all need to go home and sleep on this.”

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

The drive back was a lot tamer than the few minutes they spent sitting in the cemetery. Olaf spent most of the drive muttering to himself, clearly upset that he could’ve been a casualty of Kristoff’s impulsivity. Once they reached the music shop, well past dark, Olaf parted ways without saying a word to either of them, and Kristoff brought Anna upstairs to his apartment. As soon as they entered, Sven perked his head up.

“Oh, you have a dog!” She exclaimed, rushing over to him and immediately dropping to her knees. “He looks just like Sven.”

“That is Sven,” he said, dropping his keys on the small table by the front door.

“You saved him, too?”

“He was the first,” Kristoff explained. “That’s how I…found out about all of this.”

“I see,” she said, smothering the dog with pets and kisses. “You can’t touch him either?”

He stood on the opposite side of the room, his arms tightly crossed over his chest. “No. But, um, we kind of have a lot to talk about.”

“Yes, we do,” she agreed, looking over at him. “So I can’t touch you at all, right?”

He shook his head. “No. Even the slightest touch would mean that you die permanently.”

“No hugs?”

“No hugs,” he answered.

“But what if you need a hug?” She looked at him with sympathetic eyes.

“I haven’t hugged anyone in years, I think I’ll be okay.”

“Fine, what if I need a hug?”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry?” Was all that he could offer.

“And that means no kisses, too, right?”

He shook his head again, suddenly aware that the tips of his ears were burning. “No kisses.”

“Darn,” she said, softly, gently stroking Sven’s fur.

“You can stay here as long as you want,” he promised. “It’ll take a little getting used to, but I’d love the company. Or, you can leave. It’s your second chance at life and you can live it however you want to.”

“Don’t be silly,” she cooed. “I don’t want to leave. The last time I had the desire to leave somewhere, I literally died.” She annunciated each syllable in the world “literally” as if to stress the importance of its meaning.

“I just don’t want you to think that you’re obligated to stay,” he offered, shrugging his shoulders. “You can have my bed until we can figure out some kind of a sleeping arrangement.”

“I wish sharing was an option,” she said absently, continuing to focus on the dog. “But you don’t have to give up your bed for me.”

“I insist,” he said. He walked over to the couch and plopped down on it. “I’m so tired, I’m just going to stay right here.”

“You’re still wearing your suit,” she pointed out.

“Don’t care. I know you don’t have a change of clothes with you, so feel free to wear something of mine.”

“You want me to go through your drawers?”

“Don’t know what you’d be comf…” he mumbled, his eyes fluttering closed, unable to finish the sentence.

Anna couldn’t help but smile at him; he certainly didn’t look comfortable laying on the couch like that, but she could only imagine how drained he felt.

But an hour later, she, too, would feel incredibly drained. She had yet to change out of the dress she was supposed to be buried in, and was sitting on the edge of Kristoff’s bed, watching television. The entire situation was difficult for her to wrap her head around, and it didn’t help that nearly every station was covering her story. She was grateful that Elsa had chosen a photo to release where she didn’t quite look like herself; a photo from when she was nineteen and had dyed her hair blonde. She was glad that it had been five years and the blonde was gone and she hoped that the world wouldn’t recognize her as the “dead girl” if she went out into it.

She had never expected to see her own face on television in such a morbid, dismal way. Dubbed a “lonely tourist,” a part of her regretted ever venturing out to that ski resort in the first place. She wished she would’ve been content with the life she was living; just her and Elsa, in their childhood home. Reading books and tending to her garden, but always craving something more. She wondered how Elsa had been coping with all of this; she never ventured out of the house, due to her rampant fear of social situations. Anna was practically her caretaker, and now she’d have no one. She wished she could see her sister again. She wished she’d never left in the first place.

Snapping out of her daydream and turning her attention back to the TV, the news reporters were now talking about how her murderer was still on the lam, and the large reward for information pertaining to the case. Upon hearing about the reward, she had a flashback to the viewing room; one of the first things that Kristoff had asked her was if she knew who murdered her. Was he out for the reward money? And the man in his car, Olaf, his “business partner.” What type of business were they running? Suddenly feeling very restless and alone, she turned off the television and went back into the living room.

She perched herself on the coffee table, a safe distance from the couch, and grabbed the remote. Gently, she poked Kristoff’s arm with it.

“Kristoff?” She whispered.

“Huh?” He stirred, his eyes barely opening. He wiped at his mouth and sat up slightly. “Is something wrong?”

“Not really,” she lied, but then decided honesty was more valuable. “Well, maybe a little. They were talking about me on TV.”

“What were they saying?”

“They’re calling me a ‘lonely tourist.’ They’re not wrong, but it’s weird.”

He was now wide awake, focusing solely on her. “I can only imagine.”

“Apparently there’s a big reward for finding the person who murdered me.”

The color drained from his face when she said that. “Yeah?”

She inhaled deeply. “You said Olaf was your business partner. What kind of business do you two run?”

“I have the music shop right downstairs,” he admitted, though it was a half-truth. That wasn't what she was asking.

“And Olaf?”

“He’s a private detective.”

“I guess I should just come out and say it,” she said, slightly frustrated at his hesitance. “Was I an opportunity for monetary gain?”

His eyebrows furrowed together. “Pardon?”

“The reward money. In that first minute, you made it a point to ask me who killed me. Was it for the reward money?”

“No!” He insisted. “It was for justice. I mean, the only reason I found out that it was you was because of Olaf and the reward. I had already agreed to go before he told me that it was you.”

“So, your business is to go to funerals, wake the dead, find out who killed them, and collect the reward money?”

“Yeah,” he answered sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Are you mad at me?”

She blinked. “I don’t know. It’s kind of hard to be mad when I’m sitting here in front of you and I should be six feet under.”

“I swear, I only go in with good intentions. To see justice be served. Killers behind bars. The reward money is a bonus; it’s how I keep the music shop in business.”

Her eyes softened. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

“Don’t be - it’s a little shady. The entire thing was Olaf’s idea. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and he saw me accidentally bring a man back to life and then immediately re-dead him. If he hadn’t seen me, I’d just be a guy with an ability that no one else knows about.”

“And I’d be in the ground,” she added.

He huffed out a nervous laugh. “Yeah.”

“Part of me wishes that I’d never gone to that stupid ski resort. Why did I have to hate my life? Why couldn’t I just be satisfied with the life I had?”

He paused briefly before responding. “I think it’s natural for us to want to try new things.”

“I feel bad for my poor sister. She barely functioned when I was home, and she warned me about leaving, and now she thinks that I’m dead.” She buried her face in her hands.

“What about your mother?”

“She died a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

She pulled her hands away from her face and ran her fingers through her hair. “You wouldn’t have known. Please don’t think that I’m not happy to be here, because I really am thrilled to be alive and with you, and I’m not taking any of this for granted. It just feels so...strange. Confusing.”

He nodded in agreement. “It will be an adjustment for both of us. There’s still a lot we have to talk about.” The truth about her father was one of the things that he knew he’d have to bring up eventually, though he was absolutely dreading the thought of it.

“I’m sorry for waking you up. I just needed someone to talk to.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her, laying back against the couch. “But you should try to get some sleep. It was kind of a crazy day for you.”

She placed her hands flat on her thighs for a minute before standing up. “Thank you again for rescuing me, today.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “And Anna? I just want you to know that I’d make the same decision again in a heartbeat. No doubt in my mind.”

“Thank you,” she blushed. “Goodnight, Kristoff.”

“Goodnight.”

And so she retreated to his bedroom, keeping her dress on and laying on top of his sheets. She still felt a bit restless, and so she turned to face the wall on the left side of the bed, lifted up her left arm and pressed her palm flatly against it.

Just on the other side of the wall, Kristoff had turned to face the inside of the couch. Unable to sleep and unaware that Anna was doing the same, he raised his right arm and placed his hand against the wall.

Unbeknownst to either of them, without the wall as a barrier of protection, their hands would be touching.

#kristanna #kristanna fanfic #anna #kristoff bjorgman #human!olaf #dog!sven #frozen #frozen fic #pushing daisies!au #please don't ask me how i managed to write 5k+ words #i really don't know what came over me #but i wrote it in 3 days #i just really love pushing daisies and the parallels write themselves #also i'm lowkey really proud of this #my writing

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hanawrites404 · 4 years

Text

Part 2

Noriko stood up from her seat as she locked her eyes with the tall man's emerald ones. Without wasting any more time, she quickly bowed to him.

"It's a great pleasure to meet you, Dr. Kujo" she greets. Her tone sounded like that of a child who is meeting her favourite Marvel superhero but is trying her best to be polite.

"The pleasure is all mine Noriko" he replied.

Noriko then stood up, a pink blush was visible on her cheeks.

"And by the way Dad, she is very, very, very fond of you" Jolyne informed. "Is that so??" He asked back. "Yes. I mean, she has literally read every single text which was written by you, and she is absolutely in love with you".

"J-Jolyne-chan, it's not like that!!" the girl blushed more. Noriko then looked back at Mr. Kujo, whose eyes didn't leave her even for a second.

"I-I-I'm so sorry Mr. Kujo. It's nothing like that at all. Jolyne is just messing with you" Noriko added with an awkward laugh.

"Yeah right" Jolyne smirked and crossed her arms.

"It's alright Noriko. No need to be sorry" Mr. Kujo replied. Noriko then bowed to him again. "Thank you so much professor!!!".

"No need to be so formal. Mr. Kujo is fine". "Yes sir!!! Mr. Kujo sir!!" Noriko replied without getting up.

"Ugh, give me a break" Jolyne then grabs Noriko by her arm and drags her away. Noriko stumbles a bit but then goes with Jolyne to where she was taking her.

"W-Where are we going??". "To my room of course. I cannot let you wear that stinky uniform tonight. You gotta change". "But it's alright Jolyne. I'm not going to stay that long".

"So what?? This uniform sucks. You deserve a break from wearing it. Now come on, get in" she then shoves the red head in the room and closes the door.

Mr. Kujo on the other hand reached for the photo on the table. It was a picture of his younger self and his companions at that time when all of them voyaged to Egypt in order to defeat a powerful vampire.

His lover too was a part of the crusaders. But unfortunately, he had lost his life during the last fight, and Mr. Kujo can never forgive himself for letting him die. He still carries the guilt of letting his loved one die.

It could have been him.....no, it SHOULD have been him. However, it seemed like fate had some other plans for him, because his lover was back now, but in a very different form which was unfortunately a disadvantage to him.

The fact that he returned as a girl and half of Mr. Kujo's age, the relationship was going to look very questionable and inappropriate. People would think that it is some kind of pedophilia or a sugar-daddy relationship instead of a normal couple.

But why was he going to care?? It's not like he is bound by the insecurities of what the society might think. He will do whatever he wants to. He doesn't give a shit to what people would think of him, and that's what he has been doing for the past 22 years.

But the real problem was......what would Jolyne think of it?? She would literally get traumatized to hear that her friend who is as same age as her is dating her father. She would be disgusted to even imagine Noriko and Mr. Kujo holding hands.

Now what can Mr. Kujo do about that?? He had already lost his lover once, now if he has finally come back, then why lose him (or her) again?? Mr. Kujo really wants to mend the things which were left incomplete between both of them.

He hates carrying the guilt of his lover's death for more than a decade and really wants to let it go. Uniting with Noriko is the only way he can do it to finally let his lover's soul rest in peace. But how will Mr. Kujo win Miss Noriko's heart??

"Come on Noriko. It's alright. You look very cute in it" Jolyne had changed her attire from her school uniform and was now trying to pull the red head out of the room but was resisting her.

"I-I don't want to, not in front of Mr. Kujo" the other girl replied.

"Ugh, there you again. Mr. Kujo-this, Mr. Kujo-that. Can you not take his name after every fucking minute??".

"I-I'm sorry but, the lowers are too small. I cannot come out like this in front of him". "Don't worry Noriko. Dad is not going to bite you or anything". "B-But--". "No buts. Are you coming out or shall I do the hard way??". "........Fine.....".

The red girl steps out of the room, her cheeks dusted pink and her hands trying to hide her exposed thighs. She was wearing a light blue t-shirt which had a star on it and green shorts.

"See?? Not hard at all" Jolyne grinned. "I-I guess" Noriko replied shyly. "Oh come on, are you acting all shy because Dad is here??" Jolyne asked.

Noriko looked at Mr. Kujo who was staring continuously at her too. When he realised that Noriko was looking at him, he pushed his hat down to cover his eyes. Noriko blushed more and looked down at the ground.

"Come on Noriko, you must be hungry. Let's grab a snack and then we will study" Jolyne pushed her forward by her shoulders to the pantry.

"B-But I don't want to trouble you that much Jolyne". "Bullshit!!! You are my guest Noriko. Imagine it like you are in your own house". "I live a hostel Jolyne". "Alright, then imagine this as if you are at your parent's house" Jolyne said.

"I.......I don't have any parents Jolyne".

The taller girl stopped in her tracks, while the shorter girl's eyes got shadowed.

Mr. Kujo was noticing everything what was going on between the girls. When he heard that Noriko had no mother and father, he tensed up.

"Oh I'm so sorry Noriko. I didn't know that" Jolyne apologized. "It's OK.....It's not your fault........"

Noriko rubbed her eyes to stop the tears which threatened to fall from her pretty eyes. But even after her resistance, a stubborn and salty tear slipped from her eye as she closed her eyes to accept the wetness.

But suddenly she felt a calloused yet very gentle thumb wiping the tear from her cheek. Noriko opened her eyes to see whose thumb was it and it was none other than Mr. Kujo himself.

"I'm really sorry for you Noriko......" Mr. Kujo told her.

Noriko then sniffed and wiped the snot which was coming from her nose. She then said "Don't be sorry Mr. Kujo. It's perfectly alright".

"Noriko-chan......Where are your parents?? What happened to them??" Jolyne asked her.

"I-I was away from them at Florida while Mom and Dad were at Japan. Both of my parents were returning from work and they were travelling in a bus. But then a truck came out of nowhere and t-then at the midnight I-I-I got a call saying that--"

"Don't" Mr. Kujo placed his finger on her lips to stop her from continuing the story. He then slowly brushes a strand of her red hair behind her ear.

Noriko gives him a sad smile and then continues calmly.

"Whatever Mom and Dad had earned went to my relatives, so I had nothing to rely on. And that's why I studied hard, got my scholarship and also did numerous part-time jobs to pay the rent of the hostel. The hostel is very shabby and the manager is one big pervert, but that's all I can afford".

"Noriko......why didn't you tell us earlier?? We could have arranged something for you, right Dad??". Mr. Kujo agreed to her daughter.

"No no no, don't do so much for me. I don't want to be a burden to you" Noriko stopped them while shaking her hands as to say 'no'.

"Nonsense!! Just look at your condition Noriko!! You work like an ox daily and all you get is a shitty hostel AND a weirdo manager!!!" Jolyne held her by her shoulders as she explained her face to face.

"Then......what shall I do?? I have nowhere to go". "Stay with us, obviously" Jolyne told her. "B-But--". "No buts. You are officially living with us from now on".

"Jolyne, that's very sweet of you but why are you helping me?? I have done nothing for you, nor I am like a close friend to you. They why??".

"Let's just say that I like you a lot, and I truly think that you deserve a better place. Being without friends and parents and coping with life alone must be very hard for you. Also, studies are a pain in the ass, so why don't I make your life a bit easier??" Jolyne winked at her.

"I.......I don't know how to thank you both.........." Tears welled up in her eyes. "You are already helping me with my studies. I bet if I work hard under your tutelage, I might top the class. Now THAT would be a tight slap on Anderson's face" Jolyne laughed.

Noriko chuckled with her too. She was wondering how she can deserve such generous people.

"So it's settled then. Welcome to your new home Noriko-chan" Jolyne said.

Noriko couldn't hold it on for more and suddenly hugged the taller girl. Jolyne was taken aback for a second, but soon wrapped her arms around the smaller girl.

"Thank you Jolyne. I'm really fortunate to meet you". "You are flattering me now" Jolyne laughed.

"No really.....you don't know how lucky I am to meet such a sweet person like you" Noriko said.

"Yeah yeah whatever. But don't expect me to treat you so nicely like this". "That's fine by me" Noriko chuckled. Jolyne smiles and hugs her tight.

Both of them then let each other go. "So what are you waiting for?? Go get your bags from your hostel, and also don't forget to give a punch on the manager's face" Jolyne punched her hand.

"Sure I will" Noriko smiled. "Wait Noriko, I'll come with you" Mr. Kujo offered. Noriko turned to Mr. Kujo and said.

"It's perfectly alright Mr. Kujo. I'll handle it myself". "It's night, and young girls should not go alone in the dark like this. Let me accompany you" Mr. Kujo suggested.

".....OK sir". "Come on then" he then holds her shoulder and then they both go outside.

"Be back quickly both of you" Jolyne bid them farewell.

Mr. Kujo got his car and Noriko sat beside him. Both of them wore their seatbelts because safety is important and the author wants to promote road safety.

"What's the name of your hostel??" Mr. Kujo asked the girl. "Virgin Donuts" Noriko replied.

Mr. Kujo looked at the girl beside him with cringe written on his face.

"What kind of name is this??" He asked. "I-I know. I-I-I had no choice" she blushed from embarrassment as she hid her face from the man.

The man sighed and he adjusted his hat. "Give me a break" and he then started the engine and were off.

*5 minute time skip, brought to you by Piss Tea*

Mr. Kujo and Noriko were stuck in a traffic which was not going to be cleared in less than 10 minutes. So both of them sat idly wherever they were.

"Ummm....Mr. Kujo??". "Hmm??". "I-I was wondering.....are you going to write another thesis??" Noriko looked at Mr. Kujo who was keeping his eyes on the traffic lights.

"Well yes. I'm still researching but it will be out soon" he replied. "That's great. I can't wait" Noriko smiled as she made herself comfortable in the seat.

Jotaro slightly smiled to himself and he stole a gaze from the red head. He first looked at her bright eyes, then at her perfectly framed nose, and then at her plump lips.

She really reminds me of Noriaki......I still remember how he used to eat his cherries weirdly in front of me.........

Mr. Kujo smiled to himself. Those were some bittersweet memories which he cherished the most.

"By the way Noriko, you have no guardians at all??". "No. I do have relatives but they don't really care about me. They have inherited my parent's house and whatever they had ever possessed. I bet they don't even know that I exist" Noriko said.

Mr. Kujo felt pity on her. He was born in a family with priveledges, so he never had to face such a situation. But it didn't mean that he does not understand Noriko and her struggles.

Mr. Kujo couldn't help himself from holding on any more, and so he reached for Noriko's hand and held it.

Noriko looked at the man in his eyes, and without saying anything, she lightly clenched her hand around his bigger one. Mr. Kujo rubbed his thumb against her knuckles, feeling the soft skin of her hand.

The red head was not sure why, but she felt some sort of connection with the professor.

It felt like magic to her, as if a spell had been casted on her, which was slowly drawing her closer to the man.

Noriko noticed how handsome the professor was from close. His raven black hair and his sea green eyes complimented his face.

Mr. Kujo and Noriko were only inches away from each other, their lips longing to meet and tug at one another. Both of them were waiting for the other person to make a move but it seemed like they were too shy to do so.

The sexual tension was immense in the car. But fortunately, a car horn dissolved it all.

Both of them jerked away from each other and let go of their hands. Noriko was blushing madly while Mr. Kujo pulled his hat down, a small blush on his face.

He also noticed that the traffic has been finally cleared, so he drove his car forward and headed towards the hostel.

*7 minute time skip, brought to you by RaDIOactive*

"That's it. Here is the hostel". Mr. Kujo looked through the window at the small building Noriko mentioned.

"This is where you live?? Even a cardboard box looks neater than this.........structure" Jotaro commented. Noriko sighed as she took off the seat belt and got out of the car.

She then opened the door and much to her disappointment, the manager was there at his desk. At noticing the red lady, he smiled creepily and stood up and dashed to her like a predator.

"Noriko!! My Rose~!! I thought you won't come tonight" he hugged her and buried his face in her chest.

Noriko had already started to feel very uncomfortable. She tried to push him away from her but he was holding onto her like an octopus.

"Oohh~~ Now would you look at that?? You came to visit me in such short clothes hmmm...." He then started to run his hands on her thighs and hips.

Noriko just stood there trying to resist everything, but the man was like 3 times her size, and it was impossible for her to push such a man away from her.

Mr. Kujo entered the building and the first thing he saw was Noriko getting assaulted. His eyes became shadowed and he tensed up a lot. His whole aura had become menacing and murderous.

"You are such a naughty girl Noriko. Say........wanna have some fun at my room??" The man whispered in her ear.

Noriko was petrified beyond anything. She was praying that someone would come to rescue her from this dire situation. And fortunately, her hero was right behind her.

"Noriko......" Mr. Kujo called. Noriko turned around to him, and then the professor pulled her close to him and shielded her with his huge arms, separating the manager from the red girl.

"Huh?? Who are you?? And how dare you interrupt me??" The manager glared at the taller man's eyes, as that was the biggest mistake he had ever made.

"Noriko.....go and get your things. I want to have a talk with the manager alone" Mr. Kujo then let go of the small girl so that she could get her possessions from her room. Noriko gave a small smile at the professor and caressed his arm and then she left, leaving the perv and Mr. Kujo alone in the hall.

"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry sir. I-I-I didn't k-know that s-she was y-your d-daughter" the manager stammered.

"You fucking idiot, she is not my daughter. She is my lover". "What??? You?? Her lover?? But she is half your age!!" The manager was shocked to hear that from the man.

"How Ironic, coming from a disgusting scum who was just harrassing an innocent, young girl shamelessly" he then cracks his knuckles and stares deathly at him.

"You wanted fun right?....let me give you fun". Then, a spirit-like creature formed behind the taller man, and let's just say that the manager retired tomorrow and would never be able to get back to work, nor he would ever be able to have children, or actually do anything at all.

*2 minute time skip, brought to you by Maid Polpo*

Noriko was done packing her bags and exited her room to meet Mr. Kujo outside. Once she reached the hall, she spotted Mr. Kujo smoking a cigarette, looking outside from the window.

"Mr. Kujo, I'm done" Noriko called to him. The professor as soon as he heard the girl's voice, got his cigarette disposed of and he then went to pick her bags up.

Noriko looked around the hall, but she could not find the one she was looking for, so she asked the taller man.

"Where is the manager Mr. Kujo??". "He had some business to take care of so he left" he replied.

Noriko clicks her tongue from disappointment as she placed her hand on her hip.

"What's the matter??" Mr. Kujo asked. "I wanted to give him a punch on the face like how Jolyne told me to, now I have lost the chance to do that" Noriko whined.

Mr. Kujo sniggered at the sassy girl and then patted her red head. "Jolyne is really turning you into like herself. If she was at your place, she would have cut his balls off and stuff it into his own ass" he said.

"Pfffff-hahahahahahahhaha!!!!"

Noriko started to genuinely laugh at Mr. Kujo's statement as she brushed her bang behind. The man observed how beautiful she looked as she giggled her heart out. Also how her vocals bounced as she expressed her happiness.

It reminded him of that time when his boyfriend was laughing after the battle with The Wheel of Fortune along with the others. That time was also the first time Mr. Kujo witnessed his lover truly laughing joyfully.

He always wanted to hear his laughter one more time, and today his wish came true.

Once Noriko's laughter had started to slow down, she wiped the tears which came out while she was laughing. She then regained her breath and said.

"Oh Mr. Kujo, Jolyne is one badass. I am truly grateful to have a friend like her. And also--".

"Jotaro".

"Huh??" Noriko looked at the professor. "Call me Jotaro. That's my first name" he told her.

"A-Alright Jotaro" Noriko timidly took his name and blushed pink. Jotaro felt butterflies in his stomach when he heard his name slipping from the sweet-looking lips of the red head.

"It's getting pretty late now. Let's grab some dinner and go home. Jolyne must be waiting".

"Y-Yes si-- I mean, Jotaro-san" Noriko corrected herself.

Noriko's cuteness touched Jotaro's heart as he blushed pink and pulled his hat down to hide it. It's a good thing that Noriko didn't notice him getting flustered.

*20 minute time skip, brought to you by Caesarino*

Jotaro and Noriko had gathered the dinner and were now heading home. Noriko was humming along the song which was playing on the radio. Though he found Noriko's voice to be angelic, Jotaro was praying for the song to end. You know why..........

(Part 3)

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jotakak #jotaro x kakyoin #jotaro kujo #noriaki kakyoin #jjba #jjba genderbend #female kakyoin #what I wrote

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meta-squash · 3 years

Note

Your ADHD procrastination post has really stroke a nerve with me. I've had the same issue for years, but thought it's normal for everyone. Since about a year or so, I've been wondering if I may have an undiagnosed ADHD along diagnosed conditions. If it's not too personal, how else ADHD manifests in you? I hope it's okay to ask. I love hearing women's stories about ADHD because they are much different than the stereotypical image of it...

It’s not too personal! (FYI I go by they/them pronouns, but I am afab; it’s all good though!) Also, this got VERY long, I’m sorry! I’m verbose and have a lot to say, apparently.

So I personally have a weird relationship with ADHD. I was diagnosed with it (or some sort of attention deficit thing) when I was in like 3rd or 4th grade. I was briefly medicated but I think I was on Ritalin (I forget) and my child body couldn’t handle it; I was a zombie during the day and then when it wore off at night I was Evil and freaked out and wanted to fight everything. So I went off it pretty quick and didn’t get medicated after, presumably because my parents thought my ADHD wasn’t bad enough.

The reason they probably thought that is because my brother has Really Bad ADHD. Like, all the classic stereotypical symptoms and characteristics to the extreme: never shuts the fuck up, really damn loud all the time, extremely high energy, can learn pretty much anything in about 5 seconds but can’t actually hang on to an interest really (now that he’s an adult he can, but not as a kid), can’t sit still or pay attention in class, doesn’t finish homework, etc etc. I was able to mask mine and function enough to get through school just riding pretty much on my humanities grades alone. It sucked a lot but I somehow did it. I had an IEP (Individual Education Plan, which is a US school thing for kids with learning disabilities and such that allows for accommodations and assistance in school) but it didn’t do much except I think give me extra time on math tests because of my dyscalculia (I was in Special Ed Math my whole grade school career). My mother is an OT but I also think that (as you said) ADHD in afab people often manifests differently than in amab people, so I guess my parents just didn’t know what to look for and that’s why I never really got the same help as my brother.

I like to jokingly categorize ADHD into two distinct but overlapping types: Fast ADHD and Mush Brain ADHD. Fast ADHD (in my opinion; this may vary from person to person) is the classic stereotype symptoms. Fast ADHD’s focus problem is too much happening all at once. Lots of thoughts and ideas flying by and you get distracted mid-thought with another thought, or your train of thought gets really crazy but is super fast so your reply to someone’s comment might not make much sense to anyone else because they weren’t privy to your brain’s journey, or you go down a focus worm-hole and sit and do One Thing all day and forget to surface for things like food/water/bathroom. Fast ADHD has more energy (though when paired with depression that usually manifests as restlessness or anxiety) and is quicker to pick up new things. Mush Brain ADHD is kind of the opposite. Thoughts take longer, or you think of something and then it almost immediately disappears (for example, scrolling a website, seeing something that you want to google, you scroll for like 5 more seconds and think “wait, I completely forget what I was going to look up”). With Mush Brain ADHD it’s harder to have conversations because thought-to-mouth time is slower, rather than (with Fast Brain) lots of stuff is going on up there. Mush Brain often feels like, well, mush and like you can’t really form thoughts very well if you want to do stuff. It’s like you’re trying to focus on thinking a thought but it just slides away. Another way I’d describe it is having thoughts but it’s like they’re on a blackboard and they’re being erased as you think them, so they end up mostly smears. Obviously, this is just based on my own experiences as a Mush Brain ADHD person while my brother has Fast Brain ADHD, so this might be different for other people.

Both have lots of overlaps: executive dysfunction (that’s the big one), insomnia, auditory processing problems, hyperfixation (which is not a bad thing! I love my hyperfixations! They’re fun!), absolutely crap organizational skills, constantly losing things, really bad perception of time, detachment from the world (like you drift off into your own daydream, or things feel distant, but not quite the same as depersonalization/dissociating), difficulty making choices, sensory processing disorder, crap abilities with money, rejection sensitive dysphoria, and often comorbid mental illnesses like depression, OCD, anxiety, dyscalculia/dyslexia, etc.

Oh, and a lot of ADHD characteristics also overlap with depression characteristics (and a lot of people with ADHD have comorbid depression, so it really doesn’t help).

But I can tell you about my own experiences with some of these.

The Big One which is basically what that schrodingers motivation post is about, is executive dysfunction. People also call it procrastination (it only kind of is) or inertia. Basically, executive dysfunction is where the difficulty lies in starting the task. You want to do something, but you just can’t get going to do it. You get sort of paralyzed. It even happens with things you like. For example, when I made that post, there was a short (just over 100 pgs) book I wanted to read before the end of the day. It’s a good book! It’s on my reading list! I want to read it! But I just sat on my computer and watched dumb youtube videos because that’s what I was already doing and executive dysfunction makes starting tasks really hard. This happens to me a lot. It can happen with reading a book, or getting up to go to the store and buy groceries, or making a meal, or watching a movie. The movie-watching one happens to me a lot. Basically it’s the brain struggling to switch tasks; you’re scrolling tumblr, and that’s what your brain is focused on, and it doesn’t know how to switch from doing that to doing your bio homework or folding the laundry or whatever the task may be. This happens with “bigger” or more complex tasks too, like starting an art project or starting a new book, because your brain has to figure out all the components of that task (I need these items for my project and this amount of time and I need to use them in this order) which is overwhelming, or it needs to comprehend how “big” the task is (how much time/concentration should I try and commit to in order to read this book) which is sometimes hard to gauge. Oh, also this can happen if you’re interrupted in the middle of a task, whether it’s to do another thing or just to answer a question or something; it’s hard to get back to it because it’s another kind of switching tasks. Aside from the blackboard-being-wiped-thoughts, this is my biggest ADHD problem. I can go more into how I dealt with executive dysfunction in college and now if you want!

Auditory processing issues is another thing that I deal with, although to a lesser extent than some people. It just means it’s harder for your brain to process sounds/talking. Part of this, for me, is because if someone is talking to me but there’s other noises (music, other conversations, general loudish ambiance) going on around us, my brain treats them all as equally important and I can’t focus in on the person talking. Another part for me is in my experience I seem to process conversation different from explanation. If I’m talking back and forth with someone about something and it’s not terribly important, I’m fine. If they’re trying to explain something to me, give me instructions, or read a passage of text to me, it just does not stick in my brain. If I’m helping my best friend with her grad school applications, I have to read the sentence she’s asking me check, I can’t have her read it to me. If she does read it to me, I’ve realized that I try to imagine the words as text in my head so I comprehend it better (it doesn’t always work). Auditory processing issues means that a lot of my conversations in public with people who are not my close friends (and therefore easier to pick out from the noise because familiar and/or easier to predict because familiar) are filled with a lot of me going “what?” Retail conversations with customers are slightly easier because there’s at least a mild “script” that they’ll stick to, usually.

Another one I experience is organizational problems. This one was bad enough that I actually went to a tutor-like thing to help me with it for most of grade school. Basically, I had no ability to organize tasks like doing homework or other activities, so things would get forgotten/lost/never even written in the calendar/etc. I couldn’t do projects because I couldn’t (and still kinda can’t) organize far enough into the future. I didn’t know how to break the project down across multiple days or weeks and make it manageable without totally forgetting pieces of it. I’d forget to write down homework when the teacher wrote it on the board, or I’d write it down but forget to do it. Or I’d do it but misplace it or leave it at home. My perception of time was also really crap; I couldn’t read an analogue clock until I was in maybe 6th grade? Even now I sometimes have trouble. It was hard to know how much time I had to allot to certain projects because I didn’t really have good perception of how hours fit in the day and how much time until homework is due and stuff. (Which meant lots of finishing things in class minutes before I had to turn it in and stuff. Once in uni I completely forgot to do an Entire Essay; luckily it wasn’t a class I needed to graduate.)

Along with this is losing EVERYTHING. I misplace things CONSTANTLY. I’ll put something that’s in my hand down to get a cup of tea or something, or even just to like, move a blanket, and I’ll forget where I put it. I’ve solved this problem with Important Things (wallet, phone, and keys always go next to my bed, for example, and rarely move from there if they’re not in my pocket. All important papers go in my Important Papers Folder as soon as soon as possible) but I lose regular stuff all the time. I’ll be working on an art project, I’ll put my glue stick down to reach for a piece of paper, and lose the glue stick in the time it takes to pull the paper towards me. The other day I was brushing my teeth and I put the toothbrush cover down to say hello to the cat and forgot where I had put it down once I had followed her to the next room. When things have a Place it’s easier, but I’ve learned to live with going “Where the FUCK did I put this thing? I had it a second ago!” at least once a day.

The “Mush” in “Mush Brain” is another big one for me. I don’t know if this has, like, a name? Or anything? It’s just what I call it. The best description for it would either be that blackboard description from above, or like you’re struggling to get to a thought through a lot of mud. Oftentimes I’ll have a sort of concept of a thought but not something full, and I know it’s there, but I can’t get to it. This is really apparent when I’m trying to remember a synonym for something, or trying to elaborate on certain concepts or pull ideas from texts. It doesn’t happen all the time. I was an English lit major in uni, so this affected me a lot back then. It’s sort of a similar feeling to reading the same sentence over and over and not registering the words, except it’s in your own brain instead. This kind of goes away for me when I’m writing/typing. Writing this out is easy (minus me forgetting the word executive dysfunction for like 5 minutes) but if you were asking me to explain this aloud I would struggle, probably. This is probably because I can stare at what I’ve written to see what’s missing or edit my thoughts, which I can’t do while I’m speaking, and also can’t do to other people’s interactions with me.

Just a general inability to focus is also one I struggle with. It goes with the “mush brain” to an extent but I think it’s different. It’s more like my brain doesn’t want to, well, focus on anything. If I’m just messing around on my laptop, that means I end up clicking back and forth between tabs endlessly because nothing is holding my interest. If I’m trying to read or do anything “intellectual” or “academic” it means I just can’t get myself to read or I can’t keep my thoughts on what I’m trying to write no matter how hard I try. Nothing holds my interest for long enough, it’s like brain restlessness. I try and concentrate on doing something, watching something, reading something, and my brain just slides away from it.

Rejection sensitive dysphoria is something I experience on a more minor level. It’s something that also overlaps with anxiety and depression. Basically, it’s a really intense emotional reaction to (perceived) rejection. For example, if my best friend says something to me with a certain tone or gets mad at me for doing something minor, my brain just goes “She hates you! She doesn’t want to be friends with you! You should isolate in your room and never speak to anyone again because you’re so annoying and terrible!” I know that’s mostly incorrect (although I also know I’m quite annoying and that’s another ADHD characteristic; knowing you’re annoying someone in some way and having no idea how to stop) so I can fight it but sometimes I do end up holing up in my room for a little bit. Things like criticism (whether towards you or towards, like, an essay or something) can also trigger this reaction. So can things like having an expectation that you’ll be good at something, and then failing at it or just not being as good as you’d hoped. (I developed a sort of defense mechanism for this one of never expecting to be good at things and never expect higher than a C in a class.) It also can come with a sense of feeling inferior around people doing similar things. It happens to me a lot here on tumblr, actually, because I’ll write a meta about something, and then read someone else’s good meta on the same thing, and feel like I’m an idiot and they’re really smart and nothing that I wrote was insightful or good. It happened to me in uni a lot too. It also happens to me kind of...secondhand, now. What I mean is, my best friend/roommate is extremely smart. Like genuinely one of the smartest people I know and an incredible thinker, straight A’s at uni in a degree she created, etc. She still gets imposter syndrome herself and feels like she’s not smart, and when she says she’s not smart, I feel bad for her but I also feel really terrible about myself, because if she thinks she’s stupid, then what am I? But again, it’s an overreaction to perceived rejection. It still sucks though.

There’s some evidence that ADHD comes with a whacked out sleep schedule. And not just insomnia (although that too, I know this because it’s 7am and I haven’t slept yet lol), but also Delayed Sleep Phase Disorder. Which basically means that most people’s circadian rhythms start slowing down so they’ll go to sleep around like 11pm-1am-ish, give or take. ADHD circadian rhythms are shifted so often we start getting tired around 3am or even 4 or 5am. (This is different from insomnia, btw, with DSPD you can fall asleep fairly easily, you just get tired later in the night; with insomnia it’s an inability to or difficulty in falling asleep quickly.) I always thought I’d just gotten my dad’s night owl genes, but it’s more likely that it’s the ADHD. I also have at least mild insomnia and it takes me a million years to fall asleep a lot of the time.

Hyperfixations are the Fun part of having ADHD (in my opinion). They can get in the way sometimes but they’re also really comforting and nice. Hyperfixations happen when you find an interest and it’s basically all you want to think or talk about, and you relate to the world through it, and you want to learn everything about it. It’s also a characteristic of autism. I’m not autistic, so I don’t know if there are major differences between ADHD hyperfixation experiences and autism ones. Anyway, often hyperfixations stick with you for a good amount of time, depending on the strength, and then you might find something else to focus on. Some of my hyperfixations have lasted a few months, some up to 4 years. A lot of ADHD people rotate through the same or similar ones. For example, a hyperfixation I had back in 2011-2014/15ish was Les Miserables. I then found a different thing to hyperfixate on. This past year I have returned to Les Mis. Hyperfixations are usually pretty cool, because it’s usually something you really like and enjoy learning about or doing and it’s kind of like the thing your brain would rather be doing/focusing on.

Personally, I’ve lived so long without ADHD medication that I’m fairly functional without it just due to coming up with personal adaptations and stuff. The thing that I have the hardest time with/that upsets me the most is the Mush Brain part, which also gets worse when my depression gets worse. I really would love to have clear, quick thoughts whenever I want. It’s frustrating to hold a conversation or try to write creatively and quickly when it takes forever for thoughts to fully crystallize in my brain and then come out my mouth or fingers. Right now I don’t have very good health insurance (all blame to covid layoffs) so I can’t really do the meds thing but I often wish I could. My ADHD is definitely not as intense or severe as some people’s. I have friends, and also my brother, who struggle a lot more than I do, and with different things

Holy hell this was so long. Feel free to message me if you have any questions! Or if you want me to elaborate on some of the things I do to deal with stuff.

#asks #squash rambles #wow i'm so sorry #as an adhd person i know that is a lot of text to read #i'm too verbose for my own disorder lol #seronility #adhd

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diazevan · 4 years

Text

I Hope I'm Ready (For Something New)

Happy holidays everyone!

This was written for the Irondad Fic Exchange. I loved writing this. Of course, I adored writing Irondad. However, exploring the dynamic between Tony and Michelle was a highlight!

I hope you enjoy it, @apawcalypse632-blog!

Summary:

“What is it?” Tony combs his fingers through Peter’s messy curls, “Is college work driving you crazy?” Peter doesn’t answer, “Spider-Man trouble? Need relationship advice?”

“I don’t know.” Peter cuts in, “All of them?”

“Ah, well, you see…I can help you there...work…”

“MJ’s pregnant.”

This is mostly fluff, but there is some angst.

Warnings: Description of Injury, Traumatic Cardiac Arrest, CPR.

Read on AO3 (it’s pretty long) or under the cut

Peter hates the rain.

Well, usually it doesn’t bother him, considering he is Spider-Man and has to survive every condition Mother Nature can possibly throw his way.

Right now, he isn’t Spider-Man. He is a college student, who stupidly forgot his raincoat and is struggling to survive the down-pour of the century in Tony’s old MIT hoodie.

So, yes, he hates the rain.

He pulls his paper grocery bag closer to his chest, attempting to shield it from further damage. “Ugh, crap...” He curses as he charges across the street, towards his apartment complex, neglecting to check for oncoming traffic.

A car stops abruptly, and honks, the driver starts to scream expletives without rolling down his window. Thanks to Peter’s heightened abilities, he hears every word.

Peter holds up his hand and skips over to the curb, “Sorry!”

In his defence, he does have a lot on his mind.

Peter hugs the grocery bag under his arm, he fumbles for his key card, “Come on, come on, come on.” He stutters, he pats down his sweatpants, “Ah.”

He pulls out his card, scans it, and hurries into the lobby. It’s warm and welcoming, the opposite of the storm outside.

Peter hurries to the elevator, blatantly ignoring two of his classmates from MIT.

It’s Friday night, they are already drunk. They’re all twenty-one now, and you know, the skies the limit and all that shit.

Peter didn’t have the patience to deal with drunk people. Not today.

Normally, on a night like this, he would be out patrolling or acting as a designated ‘sober friend ’ for his classmates. Sometimes, he did both. Everyone thought Peter was a super chill dude who didn’t drink but in reality, he can’t get drunk. Thank you mutated genetics, thank you very much.

Peter pulls his hood down, “Eh.” He brushes a hand through his matted wet hair. As much as he loves wearing Tony’s hoodies, they aren't exactly weather-proof.

They used to give him ‘street credibility ’ among his peers. Being the kid, who Iron Man took under his wing, did a lot for Peter, but as time passed by, that buzz died down.

Before, they treated Tony like a God. Now, they treat him like Peter’s Dad.

Peter doesn't wear Tony's hoodies for that smug reason. He wears them because they make him feel safe.

After everything that went down with Thanos, Peter likes keeping Tony close. So, moving out to Massachusetts hasn’t been easy, and Tony’s hand-me-downs ease Peter’s constant worry.

Peter runs across the corridor, to his apartment door. His teeth chatter, and he prays that Michelle remembered to turn on the heating. God knows Spider’s suck at thermoregulation.

“I’m back!” He lets out a tired sigh, as he relishes in the warmth.

Michelle paces over, she has changed out of her work clothes, into her oversized Havard sweatshirt that cuts off above her knees. She anxiously bites her nails as she studies him, “You got it?”

“Yeah.”

“Um…” Michelle stares at her feet. She sways back and forth. Peter’s never seen her at a loss for words like this before. Not since their first kiss. He understands why. He is potentially holding the key to their future in a torn and wet grocery bag, “Good.”

Peter places the bag on the small table by the door, he pulls off his hoodie, “Ew.” He tosses it to the floor, making a mental note to sort it out later.

Michelle walks over, now holding a blanket. She throws it around his shoulders, “Here.”

“Thank you.” Over the years, she has seen him pass out too many times to count because of his blatant lack of self-preservation. She’s grown accustomed to the downfalls of his abilities - including the inability to stay warm.

She bends down and grabs the bag, with a shaking hand.

Peter places a hand on her arm, “It will be alright.”

“I know.” She pulls out the Pregnancy Test and looks up at him.

Peter offers her a reassuring smile, knowing there is nothing either of them can say that hasn’t already been said. He leans up to press a kiss against her cheek, “I’ll wait here.”

She nods and rushes into the toilet, leaving Peter alone. He puts down the blanket and throws his Star Wars hoodie on.

The toilet flushes.

Peter jolts back, he yelps, “Crap...” He drums his fingers against his hip.

Michelle taps the door, “Come in.”

Peter’s stomach gives out. He isn’t ready. He scrapes his teeth across his lower lip. If he is this scared, he can’t imagine what Michelle is going through, “Hey....” He greets, as he cracks open the door.

Michelle is sat on the floor, with her back rested up against the bathtub. The test is balanced on the corner of the sink, “Hey…” She shuffles up, giving him some room, “It’s not ready yet.”

“Oh.” Peter sits beside her, she takes his hand.

They sit in silence and wait. They aren’t teenagers anymore, but sometimes it feels like they are.

Inherently having a baby isn’t terrible. They do want children but the timing sucks.

They have a plan and they’re pretty good at following it. It helps ease their anxieties and it works around Peter’s double life; they want to finish college, find a job, travel for a while, and then, maybe get married.

Kids are on the agenda, just further down. They're headstrong, if the test is positive, they can simply change their plans. That doesn’t make it any less terrifying.

Michelle squeezes his hand, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“If this is just me... “ She stutters, “Freaking out for no reason. I mean…” She smiles unsurely, “I’m like...sixty-seven percent sure I’m being stupid.”

“No, you’re not…” Peter shakes his head, “Don’t apologise…So, the other thirty-three percent?”

“I don’t know…” She sighs, “The plan…”

Peter scoffs a laugh, “I guess Tony’s right.”

Michelle raises an eyebrow, “About what?”

“Life’s too short to follow a plan.” Peter recites, doing his best Tony impression.

“Oh, I get it…” Michelle rolls her eyes, “He’s full of wisdom.”

“More like a collection of quotes that he stole from the internet.” Peter mocks, Michelle chuckles. She looks up at the sink, her face falls, “Is it ready?”

She nods. “Yeah.” She turns, her eyes misty, “I don’t want to look….”

“Me neither.”

“Not looking isn’t gonna change the outcome.”

Peter tightens his grip around her hand, “Want me to look first?”

“I got it.” She leans up and grabs it.

Peter can’t see it from where he is sitting, so he relies on her reaction.

Michelle’s breath catches and her eyes widen.

“MJ…?” Peter speaks with caution. She looks at him, wearing a small smile, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Peter leans forward, pressing his forehead against hers, “That’s….”

“Terrifying?”

“Um-hm.” He lets out a wet laugh, “Pretty, um, great too though.”

“Yeah…” She leans back, “It is.”

Peter deflates and leans his head against her shoulder. She keeps her eyes locked on the positive test in her hand, she shakes it, like she doesn’t believe it. She wraps her free arm around her front and barks out a laugh. Peter chuckles nervously, “What?”

She lays her head on his, “Screw the plan.”

“Screw the plan. ” Peter echoes, “You think we can do this?”

“Boh.”

Peter mindlessly pulls on the string of his hoodie, “Hm.”

“It’s too early to tell…”

“Yeah.” He agrees, “We’re gonna be parents…”

“That’s usually how this thing works, dork.” She teases, “You see when a woman and man love each other…”

“Shut up.”

“We should probably work out what to do next. You should tell Stark...first.”

“Huh?”

“He’s been through some shit,” She shrugs, “He’ll probably know...what to say.”

Michelle knows Peter too well. He does want to talk to Tony, he is the first person who came to mind, along with May. Tony is Peter’s confidant, and also, his dad, in every way besides blood, “Maybe...but..”

“You tell him everything and I know--”

“What?”

“You want to talk to him.” She chuckles, “I mean, he’s a good dad, so…”

“Oh, you’re complimenting him now?”

“Don’t tell him.”

“I won’t.” Peter hesitates for a second, “I love you.”

“Eh...how cliché…” She nudges his arm, “I’m messing with you, loser...I love you too.”

The front door opens.

Tony leans back in his chair and listens out. His forehead creases. He wasn’t expecting anyone.

He skips out of his office and heads down the stairs.

He is home alone. Morgan’s spending the day at her friend’s house, and Pepper’s got meetings until late afternoon. Tony was planning to spend his alone time watching shows that he needs to catch up on.

It’s Pepper, he tells himself. He knows that she wanted nothing more than to escape her strenuous workload, and knowing her, she wouldn’t call ahead. She loves to surprise him.

“Honey, you’re home early…” He stops at the bottom of the stairs, “Oh.”

It’s not Pepper. It’s Peter.

Worry tugs at Tony’s heartstrings. Right off the bat, Peter looks like he hasn’t slept in months. He’s wearing Michelle’s hoodie and there is no telling if he chose to put it on or if it was an accident.

“Yeah…” Peter waves mockingly, “I’m not Pepper.”

“Clearly.” Tony snorts, “I didn't know you were coming over this weekend. Keeping secrets from us now, hey?”

“Kinda.” He gestures back, “MJ needed to...pick some things up, and I.. need …”

“What’s wrong, Pete?” He asks, “I can tell you’ve got something on your mind.” Peter kicks his foot forward, he chews his lip, “Kid, what do you need?”

Peter manages a half-smile, “A hug.”

“Well, you see…” Tony moves over, “You’re lucky there, kid. Hugging happens to be one of my many specialities.”

He wastes no time, he pulls Peter into his open arms. Peter sniffles, as he lays his head against his shoulder. Tony rubs circles on his back and gently shushes him.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Tony eases, “Something’s got you all riled up. I would like to think that you travelled all the way here for a hug, kiddo, but I know that’s not true…”

Peter steps back, wiping his arm over his face. Tony keeps a firm hand on his shoulder, concern settles in the pit of his stomach.

“What is it?” Tony combs his fingers through Peter’s messy curls, “Is college work driving you crazy?” Peter doesn’t answer, “Spider-Man trouble? Need relationship advice?”

“I don’t know.” Peter cuts in, “All of them?”

“Ah, well, you see…I can help you there...work…”

“MJ’s pregnant.” Peter blurts, it sounds rehearsed and Tony can tell he’s been practising in front of a mirror, for days on end. He sounds prepared, but at the same time, his voice cracks in fear. Tony prays that fear is directed to the situation at hand, and not him, “Um, and we like have…”

Tony’s jaw drops, and he stares at his kid for a moment, as he blabbers. Tony holds his hand up, it’s too much input at once, he needs a moment.

Peter freezes.

Peter is the definition of a tired college student. Now, Tony’s finding out that in a few short months, this kid would be a dad. Peter’s going to be a dad. Perhaps it is Tony’s fault, that whenever he looks at Peter, he still sees that Bambi-eyed teenager from Queens, too stupidly determined to run away from a fight.

“Um, err, okay…” Tony feels like he is malfunctioning, “Well, um...You’re having a baby…” The words sound foreign, “But...you’re a... baby .”

Peter snickers, “Um…I’m what?”

“Oh...ah, nothing. So…” Tony claps his hands, “You’re serious? You two are...”

“Having a baby?” Peter finishes, “Yeah …Are you mad?”

Tony narrows his eyes, “What?” He reaches over to reassuringly squeeze Peter’s shoulder, “Oh come on, kid...” He says softly, realising how scared Peter is, “Of course, I’m not...You’re both adults, and well...you’re gonna make pretty fantastic parents.”

Peter swallows a lump in his throat, “Are you sure?”

“As sure as the sky is blue.”

Peter snorts as he leans his forehead against Tony’s collarbone, “You need to stop letting Morgs choose the movies you watch.”

“Ah, try stopping her.” Tony wraps a strong arm around Peter’s back, “Anyway, it was Jones who introduced her to those Barbie movies.”

“True,” Peter mutters quietly.

“So…” Tony starts, Peter leans back, “I can...help out...I’ve been through...something similar.”

“I thought…” Peter’s eyebrows knit together, “...Morgan was planned.”

“She was….” Tony nudges Peter’s chin up, “You weren’t.” Peter shakes his head and giggles, “You see, Spider-Babies, I have experience there. Fourteen-year-old superheroes are very similar to energetic toddlers.”

“Oh really?”

Tony is not joking. Following Morgan around when she was a toddler, was essentially the same as chasing after Peter when he is on patrol, “Yeah really .”

Peter playfully pushes Tony’s arm, “You’re going to be a grandpa.”

“Nonno.” Tony locks an arm around Peter's back and pulls him close.

“Huh?”

“My grandkids are going to call me ‘Nonno.’” Tony explains. His heart skips a beat. Grandkids.

“Ah,” Peter grins, “I like that.” Tony places a kiss on his head.

They are the same height, but to Tony, Peter is still so small. So young. Tony wants to spend the rest of his life protecting his children because he lived through the alternative when he lost Peter, and he never wants to go through that again. He knows now, he has to learn to let go. Sooner than he wants, but times change.

“MJ will be here soon,” Peter says, “Um, don’t be awkward.”

“Me?” Tony squeaks, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m never awkward.”

Peter moves away, hiding his ashamed expression.

Tony wishes Peter would have clarified that by soon, he meant a few seconds. He catches sight of Michelle outside. She walks up the path that leads down to the train station. She buries her hands in her pockets and skips up the porch steps.

Peter rushes over, he opens the door, “Hey.”

“Hey, Tiger.” She kisses him. She steps off to the side and nervously fumbles with her fingers. She turns to Tony, and nods, “Stark.”

Tony’s mouth twitches into a smile, “Jones.” He steps ahead, pulling her into a hug.

“Oh.” She hiccups, bemused. Peter chuckles on the sidelines. It takes her a while but she moves her hands, folding them around Tony, “Hey…”

Even though Michelle and Peter are not married, Michelle and Tony’s relationship is what all ‘in-laws ’ should inspire to have. Essentially, they coexist to tease Peter, and they love every second of it. They were pushed to become closer, with everything that happens to Peter. Tony loves her, he’s more than grateful to have her in his life. He is glad that she’s the one that Peter fell in love with because they are good together, and that’s what is important.

Tony clears his throat, he steps back, “How are you?”

“Good.” She dots her eyes between the pair, “So, you know …”

“Yeah,” Tony nods, “I know.”

An invisible weight shifts off Michelle’s shoulders and she relaxes. Something warms spreads across Tony’s chest. He is the first person they’ve told. He can tell.

“Um,” Peter catches her hand, “We need to tell May...ugh, can….”

Michelle squeezes Peter’s hand, “Can you come with us?”

“Of course.”

Tony knocks on May’s door in his usual upbeat manner.

Peter and Michelle hover close by, whispering among themselves.

Tony knows how hard it’s been for them. He learnt that they've known for a month now and haven't told anyone besides the doctors. Even when you plan, having a child is scary. He panicked non-stop when Pepper was pregnant with Morgan.

May swings the door open, she welcomes him with a smile, “Tony?”

“Hey, Mrs. Parker.”

She pulls him down into a bone-crushing hug, “You should have told me you were coming over. I would have cooked something.”

“Oh….” What a shame ... “We can order in.”

May narrows her eyes, “What’s wrong?”

“Um, well…” He steps into the apartment, revealing the awkward couple.

Peter waves, “Hey, May.”

“Peter!” She exclaims overjoyed, “MJ…” She throws herself around the pair, “Hello.” She takes holds of their wrists and tugs them inside, “Come in, come in. Why didn’t you say you were coming?”

“We know you like surprises.” Peter kisses his aunt’s cheek and sits down on the couch beside Michelle.

Tony leans against the wall, May looks at him, knowingly. She’s not dumb, she knows something is up.

“What’s going on?” May asks, she settles in Happy’s armchair, “Something tells me this isn’t a normal visit.”

Peter falters, clearly overwhelmed by everything, “Um, May..you see, um...well….”

“I’m pregnant.” Michelle cuts in. Tony admires her bluntness, she cuts right to the point. Trying to get Peter to open up is like talking to a brick wall.

May sinks in the chair, “Oh.” Tony can’t read her, but her surprise is paramount, “You...you're having a baby?”

Peter nods, “...Yeah.”

“Wow.” May smiles, “That’s amazing…”

“We’ve got a plan.” Peter blurts, unable to hold anything back.

“Which is stupid…” Michelle says deadpan, “Because the last one failed.”

“Well, not everything’s perfect…” May reassures them, “But...so, what...have you…”

“We can finish college…” Michelle says, “Um, I’m not due until August anyways…”

“Then we want to move here.” Peter continues, these two finish each other’s sentences so effortlessly, it’s fucking adorable and painfully endearing, Tony’s heart can hardly take it. The kid turns, “Tony is that apartment by the Headquarters still ours if we….”

“It’s yours,” Tony tells him. No strings attached.

Peter has turned down that apartment a dozen times. He isn’t a fan of handouts, and Tony gets that. It wasn’t meant to be that. It was an idea. A thank you gift, for everything Peter does as Spider-Man. He isn’t on the payroll for his superhero duties. Even though it is technically a job. He thought being paid tainted what he does, and what he stands for. The suit is enough, for him.

Now, it’s about the baby. Peter’s thinking as logically as he can.

“Thank you.”

Tony waves his hand out, “Don’t sweat it.”

“I…” Peter sighs, “I guess being Spider-Man will take some thinking…”

“Yeah, kid.” Tony says gently, “We can sort that.”

“Well, we’re here…” May says, “Whenever you need us. You’re not alone in this.”

“Thank you.” The pair recite in unison.

May fumbles with her hands, “When do you both need to be back?”

“Um, tomorrow….”

“Oh.”

“Everything is…”

Tony skips forward and taps the back of the couch, “Chaotic?”

“We just wanted to tell you.” Peter admits, “Like...face-to-face.”

“That’s okay....” Tony ruffles Peter’s hair, “Dinner at mine tonight?”

“If that’s alright.”

“Always.”

Tony turns to May, “May?”

She is spaced, trying to understand what she’s learnt, “Um, sure.”

“Are you two planning to tell anyone else?” Tony asks.

“We’re meeting Ned and Betty for lunch.” Peter says, “We can tell the others tonight…”

Tony stifles a laugh, “Prepare yourselves for Morgan’s questions…”

Peter pales, “Oh, God.”

Michelle nudges Peter’s arm, “That’s your job.”

“What?!”

“So," Tony trails, "You need me to drop you off anywhere?”

“No thanks...” Peter points to the door, “They’re only down the street…Can Ned and Betty come tonight too?”

“Of course. We cook enough to feed an army.”

“Thanks.”

Michelle taps Peter’s leg and jumps up, “We should go.”

“Yeah.”

May gets up as the couple move to the door, “See you later.”

Tony watches them go, and it feels weird. They’re adults, they come and go as they please, but part of Tony doesn’t like seeing them leave.

May’s breath hitches. Tony turns to face her, “Hey…” He rushes to place a supporting hand on her shoulder. She dips her chin to her chest and blinks tears away, “May?”

“Tony….” She breathes sharply, “They’re having a baby.” She flaps her hands out in front of her, “Peter...is ...you know, our baby...and he is having a baby.” She shakes her head, “I’m not ready...and they seem to have it all…”

“May…” He guides her to the couch. They both fall onto it.

May hides behind her hands, “Sorry. God, I’m a mess.”

Tony snorts, “So am I.”

“They aren’t.”

“They are great..” Tony sighs, “But I think they’re more scared then they’re showing.”

“You know, Peter was six when Ben and I took him in…” May starts, “We never dealt with...this bit. Feels like I can’t help them…”

Tony gently nudged his foot against her leg, “Pep and I will deal with this. You take over in six years.”

May barks a quiet laugh, “Hm.”

“Or we just...try.”

May tucks her head on his shoulder, “Yeah.” Tony wraps an arm around her. May is like the older sister that he never had. Well, thanks to the blip, they’re the same age now, but still - she treats him like a little brother, and he’s got nothing against it. Since losing Natasha, he holds May a little closer, and loves her, knowing how easy it is to lose someone.

Tony reclines his head back, “This is selfish.”

“Huh?”

“We’re way too young to be grandparents!”

Tony stops himself, every day, from phoning Strange at some ridiculous hour in the morning to ask him if someone is messing with time. Time can’t go this quickly. It doesn’t make sense. Tony’s life used to move slowly.

He knows that he is an idiot. No one is messing with time. It’s him.

He is going to be a grandparent. He still can’t wrap his head around that. Even after five months. He’s gone through every possible emotion.

It’s been pretty morbid recently.

Michelle wants to be ahead on everything. She likes to be prepared, and she’s not a sugar coater, she says things how they are. She doesn’t do it in a harsh way, she’s gentle but straight to the point. Tony can tell that sometimes it hurts her to admit certain things. She knows that Peter being Spider-Man can be dangerous. She wants a plan for everything that could happen.

From life-altering injury to death.

Peter and Michelle are home for the weekend but they’re staying at May and Happy’s apartment.

Tony is reviewing one of Happy’s lengthy emergency plans, this one specifies what they'd do if Peter’s secret identity was revealed to the public, suddenly and accidentally. It includes scenario after scenario. They make his stomach turn. Happy did his research. Tony knew that all these schemes would work if they were ever in that situation.

A loud thump drags Tony out of his head. He leaves a sticky note next to the subsection he’s reading and hurries downstairs, “Please, please…” He prays that his stupid alpaca, Gerald, hasn’t managed to find a way out of his pen again. The last time was a mess. He stumbles to the kitchen window. Gerald is in his pen, minding his own business.

There’s a creak. It’s at the front door. It’s quiet but Tony’s on edge.

He runs over and pulls the door open. His heart sinks.

Peter is knelt on the porch steps, hugging his knees. He is leaning against the pillar, his head hangs lifelessly against his chest.

He’s in the suit. This happened on patrol.

Tony didn’t get an alert.

Peter isn’t wearing his mask. Tony can’t see it but that’s not important right now. Peter’s hurt. Like really fucking hurt. He’s covered in blood, there are multiple lacerations over his face and chest. He wheezes with every breath he takes.

Tony’s at a loss. Peter hasn’t been hurt like this in years.

“Peter!” Tony slides over on his knees, “Hey, hey, hey.....” He places a hand on his cheek, holding his head up for him, “Kid…”

Peter’s eyes are open but unfocused, “M’ster..” He leans his forehead against Tony’s collarbone.

“Alright, alright…” Tony cradles his head, “I’ve got you. Pete, talk to me.”

“T-ony…”

“Yeah, it’s me.” Peter grows heavy, “No, no...” He leans back. Peter’s eyes are shut, “Kid, open your eyes!”

“Boss, Peter is going into cardiac arrest.” Friday’s voice echoes from inside, “You need to perform need to cardiopulmonary resuscitation. A medical team is on its way."

“Shit, shit...” Tony scrambles. He moves Peter onto the porch, “Come back to me, kid.”

This isn’t happening. This can’t be fair. Everything was okay. Yes, they’re all having an existential crisis about the baby but that is a good kind of scary.

Tony knows how to do this. He’s trained. It’s a routine, but this is Peter. This is his kid.

With every rescue breath, a sob catches in his throat. “Pete?” Nothing, “Come on!”

One of Peter’s ribs cracks. Tony's stomach jumps into his throat. “Shit...” He carries on, “Please, kid, don’t do this...please” I can’t lose you. It will kill me this time, you hear me?

Tony spent hours reading protocol after protocol, all potential things that could happen to Peter. Reading them didn’t solve this, even if they were written for these situations. They didn’t reflect reality. Facts and figures don’t touch on emotion. They are just words.

This is happening. Right now.

Peter’s heart isn’t beating. He isn’t breathing.

Tony’s mind turns to the darkest of places. If Peter dies, what do they do?

Peter’s child will never know him.

How will Tony hold it together when he holds his grandchild? Knowing that their dad died in his arms. Twice.

“Peter!” Tony sobs desperately. Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go. “Fuck!”

This isn’t just about the baby.

Tony is scared. This is his kid. No matter what happens now. If he lives or if he dies. Peter is Tony’s kid.

“Peter…” Tony pleads, he brushes a hand back through Peter's sweat-ridden hair, “Please.”

Peter breathes.

Tony holds his hands up and watches to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the light, or in his head.

Peter’s chest rises and falls. Again and again.

“Hey…” Tony checks his pulse. It’s weak but it’s there. He takes his hand, “Hey, hey..” He eases, “I'm here, kiddo.”

Peter’s eyes wander around, he’s spaced. Unaware of what is happening. He catches Tony’s gaze, he squeezes his hand weakly, “T'ny?”

“Hey.” Tony keeps his voice quiet, “It’s me, kid…” He leans down to kiss his forehead, “It’s me.”

“I’m--” Peter’s face crumbles, he frantically darts his eyes around, “W’at…”

Tony shushes him, “You’re okay.” He loops his arms under Peter’s back and moves him onto his lap. Peter leans his head against his torso and curls into his hold, “You’re okay.” The Quinjet flies overhead. Peter winces at the sound. Tony pulls him closer, “I’ve got you, kid.”

“Hm…”

Tony bites on his lip, to hold back a cry. He doesn’t want to startle Peter. He leans down and presses his forehead against Peter’s.

He’s gonna be okay, he’s gonna be okay.

We’re going to be okay.

Tony won’t leave Peter’s side. Even if someone held a gun to his head.

Peter is asleep. They’re alone in a private hospital wing at the Headquarters.

Happy’s rushed off to pick May up from work. Tony had a quick call with Michelle, who’s on her way. Ned and Betty are close behind.

He’s trying to stay awake. He doesn’t want Peter to wake up alone.

The door clicks open.

It’s Michelle. She freezes, her red-rimmed eyes lock onto Peter. She looks like she’s on the edge of breaking.

“Hey, Jones.” Tony greets softly.

She jumps. She rests her hand against her small bump, and looks over, “Stark.”

Tony buckles. He rushes over and wraps his arms around her, protectively. Images of what could have happened flash through his mind. The unimaginable.

“Hey,” Michelle says gently. A tone she usually reserves for Morgan, “Hey…” She folds her hands around him, “We’re okay.”

“Yeah…” He leans back, “We’re...okay.”

She squeezes his arm, “How’s he doing?” She pokes his chest, “No sugarcoating, Stark.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She walks over and sits beside Peter. She holds his hand, tight. Her knuckles turn pale. Tony used to roll his eyes at young love but these two, they are the real deal.

“So…” Tony sat opposite, “Um…” He can’t remember the details. It’s a blur, “I wasn’t really listening to the…” He reaches out and grabs Peter’s other hand, “You know…” Michelle extends her other arm over Peter’s chest and catches Tony’s wrist. “He took on that Rhino guy, it was...um, traumatic cardiac arrest but he’s healing. He’s got a few cracked ribs...that’s…”

“Not on you.” She cuts in. Up until that point, Tony thought that it was his fault. Even though the doctors told him he wasn’t. The assertiveness in Michelle’s voice makes him doubt that self-deprecation. He nods.

Silence grows between them. Michelle fiddles with Peter’s hand and keeps holding onto Tony’s.

Tony wishes he could go back in time to when they first met. Michelle’s distaste for him, in the beginning, seems laughable now. She wasn’t a fan of the whole billionaire thing but she outgrew that. Flash forward to now, and Tony couldn’t imagine his life without her in it. She is part of the jigsaw piece that completes Tony’s family.

It took a while, but he can read her. She is itching to ask something. He knows not to push her.

“The baby.” She mutters quietly, almost unsure.

Tony looks up, “The baby?”

Michelle shifts. Tears fill her eyes, “Are they going to be like him?”

Tony’s heart sinks. He’s already thought about that. He’s written a protocol for that. Code: Spider-Baby. Tony's kid being Spider-Man is hard enough, the idea that his grandchild could follow in the same footsteps is fucking terrifying, “You mean…”

“Spider-Man.”

“I--” His voice cracks. “Peter’s unique, Jones.” He squeezes their hands, “We know that. There’s no one else like him. There are the Inhumans, like Quake, and then there are people like Wanda, who were engineered. Peter was changed, his DNA...his genetics, mutated to make him Spider-Man. That’s part of who he is…” He falters, “And…”

Michelle lets go of Tony’s hand, and holds it against her bump, “Part of..."

“I think so, yeah.” Tony nods, “I can’t be certain.” Michelle sniffles. She wipes tears out of her eyes with the back of her hand, “Hey…”

“Uh…”

“I get it.” Tony admits, “I hate this. He does this because this is who he is…We can’t stop that.” He laughs falsely, “Trust me, I’ve...tried but this..” He stutters, “I don’t know if your kid is gonna go down the same road, but if they do, I’ve got some first-hand experience with...a certain Spider-Baby.”

“I’m not…” Peter mumbles. Michelle and Tony look at him. His eyes are still closed but he’s slowly coming to, “Spider-Baby.”

“Of course you’re not, kid.”

He so is.

Peter and Michelle’s bedroom at the Lakehouse is a shadow of what it used to be. With the baby coming in a few short weeks, Tony knew it was time for a change. Peter and Michelle designed it first, then he got to work. They stayed over whenever they felt like it, and Tony wanted them to feel welcome at all times.

This was their second home. No matter what.

Morgan already claims that her future niece or nephew is her best friend, so she must see them as much as possible.

The Star Wars wallpaper is the only thing that has gone unchanged. All the old furniture is gone. The gifts from the baby shower are all scattered by the window, ready to be used.

“What’s that?” Pepper is sat on the couch, getting her shoes on. She’s on her way out to collect Morgan from her best friend's house.

He holds out the parcel that’s just arrived, “I think..” He tears it open, “Ah, yes.” He takes out Iron Man and Spider-Man plushies, “These.”

Pepper grins, “They’re amazing.”

“I’ll put these upstairs…” He smiles, “And then the rooms done.”

“Wow.” Pepper leans her chin on her arm, “The next time they sleep in that room, the baby will be here.”

Tony chuckles. That’s a scary thought, “Yeah…” He kisses her forehead and heads upstairs, “See you later.”

He heads into the bedroom. He places the soft toys in the corner of the bedside crib, he steps back to admire his work. He is pulled from the moment when his phone rings. He digs his hand into his pocket to retrieve it.

It’s Peter. Perfect timing.

“Hey, kid!” Tony exclaims, “Guess..”

“Tony!”

Tony snaps into fight or flight mode, “What’s going on?” He heads downstairs, ready to jump into a suit and fly over.

“Sorry…Um, I’m trying to…” He’s not talking to Tony. Michelle’s voice is muffled in the background, “Yeah…” There’s a loud bang, “Ow.” Peter squeals, “No, I’m fine. I walked into the wall…” Tony debates whether he should interrupt or not, “Yeah, I’ve got the bag.”

The bag? Holy Shit.

“Peter. Is the…”

“Yeah…” Peter answers. The question doesn’t need finishing. The baby’s coming, “We’re on our way out...um, can you like...get everyone?” He stops to take a breath, “May’s not picking up and--”

“Don’t worry, kid.” Tony interrupts, “I’m on it. You concentrate on getting there, we’ll meet you.”

“Thank you…” Peter hums, “Love you.”

“Love you, Pete.” Tony smiles, “See you soon.” He hangs up and hurries downstairs, “Pepper!”

Her eyes widen in alarm, “What?”

Tony wraps an arm around the banister, “Baby Parker’s making an early appearance. “

Pepper jumps up, “The baby’s coming now?”

Two weeks early. It was always a possibility, “Just like Morgan.”

“Shit, um…”

“I’m gonna get hold of May, and make sure Happy’s gets her there. You..”

Pepper runs over and plants a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll collect Madam Secretary and we’ll meet you there.”

“Alright…”

The waiting area at the Headquarters Infirmary is desolate. There’s not a living soul in sight.

Tony and Rhodey are alone.

Tony leans his weight on a pillar, he’s messaged Peter and is waiting for a response. Rhodey is busy staring him down, with a knowing smirk, “What?” Tony whines.

Rhodey shrugs, “Nothing.”

“Tony!” Peter shouts. He runs around the corner and skids to an abrupt halt, “Hey…” He pulls Tony into a hug, “Wow.” He’s out of breath. It takes a lot for Peter to get like this. Well, this is ‘a lot.’

“Kid…” Tony pats his back, “You good?”

Peter clings to Tony’s arms and leans back, “I think so.” He turns, “Hey, Rhodey.”

Rhodey nudges his bicep, “Hey, Pete.”

“Um..” Peter leans his head down, he takes a deep breath and points back, “I better get back.”

Tony taps his shoulder, “We’ll be here, Pete.”

“Thank you…” Peter dashes away.

Rhodey snorts, “Oh…” He places a hand on Tony’s shoulder, “He’s totally going to pass out.”

Tony rolls his eyes, “No, he won’t.”

“You did.”

Tony’s jaw drops. He playfully pushes his friend away, “Not this again.” He groans, “I slipped over.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Tones.” Rhodey laughs, “I have to say the kid’s got some guts, I mean at least he doesn’t look like he’s going to throw up.”

“I hate you.”

“Love you too.”

Eight hours go by, slowly. Still no baby.

May’s in the room with Michelle and Peter, so Tony hasn’t seen her all day.

Everyone is dotted around the waiting lounge. Ned is sat nearby, with his back rested against one of the couches. Betty is tucked against his side, snoring on his shoulder. Morgan is scrawled across the floor, with her head rested on Ned’s hip.

Rhodey is in an armchair, fast asleep. He’s holding a half-finished cup of cold coffee in his hand, that’s a disaster waiting to happen. Tony can’t wait.

Pepper is tucked up on the couch next to Tony.

He's the only one still awake.

Footsteps echo close to the room.

Tony sits up.

It might be Happy. He left after noticing a nurse wasn’t wearing his identification badge.

Peter walks in. Dead on his feet, “Tony?” He holds a hand in front of his mouth and yawns.

“Hey, kiddo.” Tony smiles, he holds his hands up and gestures to everyone in the room, “You see this bunch of lightweights?”

“Yeah.” Peter laughs, “I can’t blame them.” He stretches his hands up over his head, “You not sleeping?

Tony jumps onto his feet, and closes the distance between them, “I’ll sleep when you do. How’s everything?”

“Okay.” Peter sighs, “Um, midwives think it’s gonna be a long night.”

He moves and tucks his face against Tony’s chest, “How are you holding up?” Tony asks, with a laugh.

“I’m good.” Peter mutters, “I came to get…” He holds out a hand, and points to the vending machines, “Some water.”

“Oh.” Tony pats his back, “You wait here. I’ll get a few bottles.”

Peter came and left.

Tony is now more awake than ever. Everyone is still asleep. Even Happy - who came back in, promised Tony he’d stay awake, and then fell asleep within five minutes.

Tony paces around, muttering quietly under his breath as he rubs his hands together, nervously. Having children and being minutes away from being a grandfather has made him soft. He ended up taking Rhodey’s coffee cup out of his hands, saving him from that embarrassment.

A crash comes from outside the room.

Tony jumps out his skin, “Jesus.”

“Shit.” Peter curses, “Ow.” He stumbles into the room, almost pulling the door off its hinges, he nurses his wrist in his hand. He might be Spider-Man but he is constantly running into walls.

The room stirs. Ned sleepily leans up, “What…”

“Oh…” Peter holds onto the doorframe, “I’m gonna puke.”

Tony runs over. They’re here. The baby’s here, “You good?”

Peter catches his wrists, “It’s a boy.”

Tony’s eyes fill with tears, and he smiles. A boy.

The room erupts in excited mumbles and celebrations.

“I knew it!” Morgan shouts. Suddenly wide awake. She drums her hands against Ned’s arm, “I told you.”

“A boy?” Tony sniffles, “That’s…”

Peter pulls on his arm, “Come on.” He guides him out, down the corridor, and into a room.

Michelle is sat up, cradling her son. Tony can’t see his face, it’s covered by her hand. He’s wearing the small knitted Spider-Man hat that Rhodey bought. May is in the chair, watching them with misty-eyes.

“Hey.” Tony coos quietly.

Michelle looks up, she smiles, “Hey, Stark.”

Tony darts his eyes between Michelle and Peter. He stops, to focus on the baby.

The last few months feel like a dream. Like it wasn’t real. It is now.

Peter pushes him forward, and they approach the side of the bed.

Tony leans over to see. His grandson is perfect. He looks like both Peter and Michelle, but he has Peter’s eyes without a doubt. Tony would know those puppy dog eyes anywhere.

“Wow.” Tony grins, “Can’t believe you two managed to pull this off.”

Peter crosses his arms, “Shut up.”

“You can talk, Tiger….” Michelle mocks, “You threw up.”

Tony turns on his heel, Peter holds his hands up in the air, “What…”

“You’re never gonna live that down,” Tony tells him.

“Never,” May giggles.

“Hey, Stark...” Michelle moves, “You wanna hold him?”

Tony’s heart flutters, “Of course.” He crouches down, with Michelle’s help he guides his grandson into his arms.

He’s awake but isn’t crying. His big brown eyes dart around. Taking everything in that they can.

Tony bounces him, “Hey…”

Peter holds out a finger, his son grasps it, “Benjamin.”

Tony looks at May, with glazed eyes. She smiles.

“Hey there, Ben.” Tony bops his nose, “I’m your Nonno.”

Everything clouds Tony’s mind.

A series of ‘what ifs ’ and ‘buts .’

Thanos took Peter away. Michelle and May too. They were gone, for five long years. It could have gone differently. Ben wouldn’t exist if Tony hadn’t discovered time travel when he did. So many little things happened to make this day a possibility. Tony’s only just met Ben and the world would be an empty place without him.

Ben notices Tony’s bright red prosthetic arm, he stares at it with wide curious eyes. Tony chuckles.

This is his life. He loves it and he wouldn’t change a thing, “Welcome to the world, kid.”

Shortly after everyone met Ben, Michelle fell asleep.

Peter took Ben onto the balcony, to see the outside world.

Tony steps out and tip-toes over, “Hey, Pete.” Ben is fast asleep, curled against his dad’s chest, “Well done, you’re a natural.”

“Yeah?”

“Morgan hardly slept...” Tony snorts, “We had to hold her under the fan in the kitchen.”

Peter grins, “If Ben’s anything like I was...he’ll sleep most of the time.”

“Like you were?” Tony raises an eyebrow, “You still do. You’re either out there being Spider-Man or sleeping on the couch.”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

Tony shakes his head, “It really isn’t.”

Peter laughs. It fades. He studies Ben, fear etches over his face.

His life is different now. A good different but Tony knows how scary that can be.

Tony plants a kiss on Peter’s temple, “You’ve got this sorted, kid.”

Peter’s mouth twist into a smirk, he looks at Tony with narrowed eyes, “Kid?” He chuckles, he motions his head towards Ben.

Tony rolls his eyes, “I’m not letting it drop, kid. ”

“Okay, okay...” Peter rubs a thumb across Ben’s cheek as he carefully bounces him.

“You’ll always be my kid.”

Peter leans his head against Tony’s shoulder, “I know.”

#tony stark #peter parker #irondad & spideyson #irondad #spideychelle #michelle jones #irondad fanfiction #peter and tony #peter x michelle #tony and mj's dymanic was my favourite to write!#irondad fic exchange

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purplesurveys · 4 years

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815

At what time of day do you normally feel the best? I love the evening the most. I get to have my coffee, it’s quieter around the house, and it also gets a little bit colder so it’s more fun to hang around by then. Do you normally have to hem pants? I’ve never had to do that before. If I need my pants fixed, I usually ask my lola to do it since she’s good at that kind of stuff. Name one reason why someone should not commit suicide. I can’t speak for other people, but I personally stay because I don’t want to leave Kimi behind and because I’ve seen countless mini-documentaries of parents who were left devastated by their kids taking their own lives. What would you do if you had no one to love and support you? That sounds so fucking bleak. I imagine bringing myself to therapy so I can learn how to deal with such a situation, and so that I at least have one person to talk to. If you didn't have love and support, would you feel life was worth living? No. But that’s why I imagine I’d be going to therapy, so my mind can be changed.

If you had no family nor friends nor money, would you feel life's worth living? These questions are so stressful to mull over and a tad bit triggering lmao, can I pass at this point? If you're unhappy, what would it take to make you fulfilled? Depends on what I need, which differs every time. Sometimes I’d wanna be alone, other times I’d want to be with other people, other times I’d need to drive and take longer routes than usual, or to binge YouTube videos, or a good nap...it’s always different. What was the last thing that upset your stomach? The meds I had to take for my UTI. Feeling poopy was one of its side effects, so even though it didn’t upset my stomach per se I did have to have several trips to the bathroom then. Do you have to go the pharmacy a lot? No, only when something’s wrong with me which doesn’t happen too often. Are you sunburned? I haven’t been sunburned since I was like 10. The tendency just suddenly stopped at some point. Do you wish someone loved you? I have a lot of people who already do, fortunately. Do you call yourself stupid often? Like every other hour lmao. What's a song you love? From Eden - Hozier. Do you miss anyone who was mean to you? Not to my knowledge. I’m glad they aren’t in my life today. Name someone you know who is a cancer survivor. One of my former Filipino teachers in high school. Are you friends with any cancer survivors? I don’t think that I am. Does God often answer your prayers? How was your day today (or yesterday, if it's morning)? It was average. Nothing out of the ordinary happened today but I did like the fact that my parents still left the living room aircon on for most of the day even though summer’s over and the weather’s already begun to be a little colder. Do you wish the sunrise and sunset lasted longer? Not really? I’m fine with the ones we’ve got lol. Would you want to relive your childhood again? Fuck no. It had some nostalgic bits, like the shows I used to watch or me playing outside, but it was far too traumatic for me to miss it as a whole. I’m happy being a grownup.

Were your college years the best years of your life? Not fully. My time in college only peaked by the second half, so it wasn’t all that great. Junior and senior year were very fun and eye-opening, though. Would you rather re-live high school or college? Ooh that’s quite a pickle...both periods had their highs. High school was a lot easier (academically), it was a time when I could fuck up and it was okay, and I found my first group of friends. College was a time of independence, a lot of growing up to do, and I also found my second group of friends. As miserable as I was during my freshman year, I ultimately have to go with college because I hated most of the people in my high school anyway and because I really loved the independence I gained in college, from being able to drive on my own and managing stuff on my own time to being free to choose my class schedule. And also, duh, I passed my dream school? I’d relive my years in UP in a heartbeat. What is the dumbest sports-team mascot you've heard of? Not really familiar with sports mascots to begin with. Are you a sports fan? Err, not really. I’m a pro wrestling fan, but it’s not 100% a sport. Where do you feel like you fit in the most? In my college and in my org. I’m sad that I only get four years with them – three when it comes to my org. Do you hate social classes? Yes. Do you think talent should have anything to do with social class? What? I have no clue what this question is insinuating but lmao of course not. I know some crazy talented people who wouldn’t be considered rich, and I know some bland-ass wealthy people who can’t do anything impressive at all. Name a country who's history you know nothing about. Australia. Name a religion you know nothing or very little about. Zoroastrianism. I only remember the founder. Don't you hate know-it-alls? I hate when they start getting conceited. What is your favorite store at the mall? I love visiting Fully Booked every chance I get. When was the last time you went to the mall? That would be when I had my eye checked last early March, because the clinic I visited was inside the mall. Aside from doing that, I also had late lunch at Marugame Udon which apparently would be the last time I’d have their food for a while, unbeknownst to me :( Do you have a bed or do you sleep on a mattress on the floor? I have a bed. When was the last time you went for a run? LOL never. Have you ever tried hard drugs? No. Which school subject did you hate the most? Back in high school I really hated the advanced math and science classes e.g. chemistry, physics, calculus, trig. In college, I found myself hating philosophy and economics the most. What was the last thing you wore from Aeropostale? I don’t think I ever wore anything from them. Which devotional do you read? I don’t read those. Do you appreciate classic literature? I appreciate and recognize their impact, but I don’t like reading them.

What is something you find strange? People who keep pushing for the All Lives Matter narrative. Cringe. Do you like your natural hair color? Sure. I’ve never actively complained about it, that’s for sure. Would you rather get a pixie cut or get dreadlocks? Pixie cut, because I’m pretty sure getting dreadlocks as a Filipino is a form of cultural appropriation? Would you rather dye your hair or get a perm? Dye it.

Do you keep Christmas lights up year-round? No, we don’t. Have you ever started a new trend? Just me? Lmao no. Do you have any artwork of yours from high school? I definitely don’t. Whenever a teacher would give our artworks back, I crumpled it up as soon as I got it and would throw it away. I just simply rejected all of my attempts to be creative lol. What did you win a scholarship for? I’ve never gotten one. But my university did start implementing free tuition for all undergrads starting in 2017 when I was a sophomore, so it’s kinda like the same thing. Did your college meet your expectations? Yes, and more. UP taught me far more than classroom lessons as it opened my eyes to the more important societal issues happening outside of school. It made me recognize our farmers who never earn the income they deserve; the factory workers stuck in poor working conditions; the jeepney drivers whose work is never respected; the millions of working class Filipinos who simply deserve better; and the government that is more corrupt than I thought. My college on the other hand taught me to be fearless and to never hesitate to search for, report, and defend the truth, and to disseminate just that to the masses. Bottomline is that words can’t even begin to describe how grateful I am to have studied there and I will always be very much in love with my school. What was the best thing about college? The best thing about mine, at least, was the throng of life lessons and eye-opening realizations it gave me. Each of them has been more valuable than any lesson I learned in the classroom. UP taught me that there were a thousand other issues far more important than problems I face in my own privileged bubble, but that I can help facilitate change if I wanted to. How old were you ten years ago? 12. Easily the worst age I’ve been in. What's the best piece of advice you can give someone ten years younger? Stay. It’ll get better. Not instantly, but it does get better. Do you feel like you are old enough and experienced enough to give advice? I think anyone’s fit to give advice no matter how old they are. Even kids can be quite insightful. The differences just lie on the topics people give advice on. How old were you when you started to feel mature and experienced? 17, after I had a series of shitty stuff happen to me at one point in 2015. When I got past those, I could tell I wasn’t the same person that I was, like, two months back. Were your 20's hell? I’m only in my second year lmao, can you get back to me in eight years? What type of bug do you see the most often in your home? We don’t get a lot of bugs at home, fortunately. We have tons of ants though. Do you put off things until the last minute? If I’m not passionate about the task, yes. Do you have the air conditioning on right now? Nope, just the fan. Is your mom the same size as you? She’s slim but she’s still ever so slightly a bit larger. We can technically share clothes but some of them would still look loose on me.

Does camping appeal to you? I have moods where it does and moods where it doesn’t lol. What color is your sleeping bag? I don’t have one. How often do you pray? Do you surrender to Christ daily? When was the last time you went to church? Do you know any Christians who aren't judgmental? Only a handful, and it’s usually people in my age group. Most of the others suck, and I can say this because I’ve had coooooooountless personal experiences with rude, hypocritical, sexist, homophobic, and transphobic Christians and Catholics. Do you believe there are any good people in the world? Of course. What's one thing you are scared of? Flying cockroaches.

#survey #surveys

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the-woman-in-the-writing · 5 years

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“Breakdown No. 42″ a short story

Rating: PG TRIGGER WARNING Word Count: 1,325

Author’s note:

This is my most honest work (yet). I wrote this for a book compilation that revolves around emotions and experiences. The truth is, I didn’t know what to write because the compilation required us to be honest about ourselves, and in my years as a writer I always do my best to refrain from reflecting myself in my work, specifically prose (I’m quite honest with my poetry). I wanted to write about someone or something that isn’t me. There may be pieces of myself scattered in my literature but it’s not fully about or inspired by me. So, writing this gave me a whole new direction in writing; every minute was torture, I have to admit. But after I’ve finished it and had a few of my close friends and relatives read it, they cried and told me, ‘this is your best work so far’. I hope you, reader, see it as that way too and if not, I hope you feel you’re not alone in whatever you’re going through.

“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.” ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

My yellow walls swelled. Those ugly, piss-yellow walls that were supposed to remind me of happiness. I hated them. Sometimes, they would speak to me. In whispers. In mumbling. In chants. The message was all the same: you don’t belong here. But tonight, they were quiet and maybe it was because my thoughts are too loud to interpret something from their silence. I could hear the air-condition hum a lullaby for the sleepless – a nursery rhyme for the lost.

My hands feel warm on my ears as I feel it tremble. Blood rushing – I could hear it rumble, rumble, rumble. My fingers intertwine itself with my hair and my nails dig into my skull, trying to grab the person inside me. The voice that tells me what to do and what I think. The soul that sympathizes and loathes other people. I want her out – you don’t belong here. Out.

My walls just keep on swelling and swelling and swelling, suffocating me. I have never been claustrophobic, but my room is terrifyingly small right now, like those trap rooms where the walls are closing in on you. I know it’s all in my head. When I stand up, my head won’t hit the ceiling and I can still stretch my arms to show how much I want to leave. It’s all in my head.

It’s all in my head.

I sat up, facing the window. It was night and who knows what time it is, but the outside world seems so peaceful and still, like a painting. My breath fogs up the glass and moistens my nose. I don’t know what to do. It’s a bad day today. I feel so trapped. I am a butterfly trapped in a bell jar and I want out. Nothing bad happened, to be honest. Today went by perfectly normal. It’s just… It’s a bad day. There’s a looming sadness inside of myself and I can feel it spilling out of me, dripping through my nose and the corners of my lips, mixing with my tears, and coming out of my ears and my pores. It’s spilling and spilling – it’s all in my head – and I’m trying to keep it inside of me.

I feel so lost, like I’m floating in oblivion, never anchored down to anything. There’s no sense of belongingness in reality and imagination. I’m stuck in the middle. I am a tourist taking a walk in the Museum of Everyone. The place is silent and deserted, boxed with mahogany walls and films of dusts. There’re different rooms to see: The Hall of Deaths, the Human Mind Planetarium, the Lives Gallery. Wax figures and metal description plates. Mother and Father having breakfast with kids. Teacher lectures about parts of the cell. Friends laughing around. Girl kisses Boy for the first time.

I don’t feel like I belong here, or even anywhere.

A shadow of myself steps out of me. She still has that hope in her eyes, but I could see she’s tired. She looks at me with a blank face and says, “You need to leave.” And she walks out of the door and when I look back to the window, she’s outside, looking at me and shaking her head. It felt strange to watch myself. It was like watching a movie or dreaming; I am in a doppelganger film and I’m the double trying to take over the original’s life.

The walls started swelling again. I try to push them back but it’s no use. You don’t belong here.

Leaving was easier than I expected; I just had to stand up and open the door. In the corner of my eye, I see my dad’s journal look at me earnestly, so I pick it up before the walls could crush me. The outside looks so still from inside, but it’s just like my room. Swelling and crushing me. But outside, my room looks normal. It was all in my head. It’s just a bad day. I imagine it being sucked by a small blackhole, leaving an empty space in our house.

Then I started walking. And walking. And walking. There’s no destination in mind, but I want to be as far away as possible from my life and I want to find myself. I am an observer in the Hall of Changes. I looked at the houses and I remember what color they had before they chipped away. Those bubbles of paint that were so entertaining to squish. I looked at the streets and I remember how it wasn’t paved that way back then. The way it was so muddy whenever it rained. I looked at the walls and I remember the vandals that have come and gone through the years. The “I love you’s” and “was here’s”. I looked at my life and I remember how simple it was before. The colors, the design, and the words. Now, everything inside of me is twisted and tangled, so complex and so hard to fix and understand.

I could feel the breath of the surroundings, caressing my arms like someone is pulling me slowly into an embrace. I close my eyes and breathe along. Life is entering and leaving my body. I’ve always been alive, one way or another, but so are the sick, so are the sleeping.

My existence feels so linear. Predictable. Dull. An endless string of ‘and then, and then, and then…’. Is there nothing left for me? Do I just go to college, get a degree that I’m never going to use, get my first job that I’m going to hate eventually, pay my taxes, buy a place, quit my first job, get a second job, get married, have kids, buy a house, have a midlife crisis, deal with my children’s teen angst, send them to college so they’ll get a degree they’ll never use so they could get their first job – Is there nothing left? Is this… everything that’s left for me?

How could anyone call this a life?

I had stopped walking. I’m already someplace else with a stranger’s house in front of me. In there, a family or someone who is alone is sleeping, dreaming away their life as they wait for another tomorrow to waste. What would’ve been my life if I had grown up inside that house? Would I have been sad? Would today have been a bad day?

I sat on the pavement and looked at the starless sky, imagining the world revolving and rotating around the sun as I moved on with life. Heliocentric. Then I imagined it revolving and rotating as I sat there at that pavement, motionless. Anthropocentric.

My dad’s journal beat inside my hand. It was old. The edges were soft. Some pages fell out. My dad had wrapped the cover with masking tape and was now brownish. A quote was written on it. Inside, I found poems, entries, quotes, lyrics, unfinished sketches, and pictures. There were some written for my mom. There were some written for himself. And there were some written for me. Opening and skimming the journal felt like I was the exhibit being observed, rather than being the observer. The Lives Gallery. Girl finds herself. I read everything twice and I cried.

She is our sunshine, and I love her.

I imagined myself as a toddler, big eyes with a stupid smile, carried in my parents’ arms. Everything felt in place and was the size of a snow globe. I am inside. You belong here. Girl grows up. I had the world ahead of me. I just didn’t know it yet.

I looked up once more and the world and the sun revolved and rotated around me again before I closed the journal and started walking home.

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ghosts-n-whores · 4 years

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I’m drunk again and I’m sick and I feel like I have to tell this story and get all of this out of me before I fucking explode. Also this is hella fucking long. I tried to shorten it but frankly, all of these were big, life-altering moments. If i’m going to spew out a lifetime worth of unspoken trauma, I’m gonna tell it all. Let me have my moment.

The first time my weight was ever brought up as an issue I was 5 years old. Me, my mother, and my sister were getting ready to take family portraits at the church we attended. My father was too drunk and too ashamed to be a part of it. Dads drinking and drug use was the worst kept secret in the fucking world but mom did her best to put on a good show. It obviously embarrassed her though and when she gets upset anyone can become a target. Mom had dressed us all in matching purple shirts. As she put my shirt on me she stopped, poked me hard in the stomach, and with a look of disgust told me to make sure I sucked that in before the flash went off. When we got home that night I stood in front of the mirror for the first time and recognized the flaws in my reflection.

My parents divorced soon after and my new stepfather arrived, bringing with him a new era of torment and criticism. It wasn’t all reserved for me though. Suddenly my sister, who until that point had been the golden child and light of my mother’s life, was coming under fire too. Everyday I listened to how fat her ass had gotten, that they couldn’t understand how a 14 year old had so much cellulite. She was so skinny, so perfect before. What had happened? (Spoiler: puberty had happened. She had developed hips and ass. And for reference here, my sister was a size 4. She was, and still is, a knockout.) I, too, faced scrutiny of course. My mother still insisted on dressing me every morning. And every morning of my life I listened to how much weight I needed to lose, how big I had gotten, how many rolls I had. Body shaming had become my new normal. The morning of school pictures mom put me in a floral print dress. I hated it. I sobbed hysterically. In retrospect, there was nothing wrong with the dress. It was pretty. The problem was that I hated me in the dress. The square neckline and spaghetti straps made my shoulders look broad, showed off how big my arms were. I actually found those pictures a few years ago. I immediately noticed how bloodshot and swollen my eyes were, how I had hunched my shoulders together in a subconscious effort to make myself smaller. My mom gushed about how pretty I was but all I could think was “that poor girl.”

I have a mole/birth mark/something on the inside of my labia majora. Mom discovered it when dressing me one morning and proceeded to pin me to the bed so she could look at it. Now, I understand as a mother you want to make sure there’s not some cancerous growth on your kid. But fully pinning them down while they scream and cry, because you’ve taught them their entire life that that is a private part and no one should ever touch it, seems a bit extreme to me. What I felt was by no means a sexual violation. But it was a violation of my privacy, my trust in my mother, my bodily autonomy. I realized I was viewed by all the parental figures in my life as a possession for them to do with what they wanted. Children didn’t have rights in my household.

The first time I ever stood up to my mother was also the first time I was ever called a bitch. I was 7, mom was telling me how fat I was again, and something in me just kinda snapped. I told her she wasn’t exactly skinny either to which she replied “Well, Savannah I’m 40 years old, it’s a little different.” I told her that meant she’d had 40 years to lose it then, huh? She told me I was a bitch and to dress myself from now on.

Things continued in much the same way for the next several years. My sister developed a drug habit, my father’s worsened, and my mom and stepdad became the bane of my existence. My sister’s boyfriend had introduced me to MTV and eyeliner. I was deeply enthralled with all things early 2000s punk rock. It was the first time in my life I connected to something. But I soon discovered that, to my mother, the only thing worse than having a fat daughter was having a goth daughter.

Now, this is something I still don’t understand. My parents were the generation that grew up in the satanic panic of the 80s. As an adult I discovered my stepdad, who was obsessed with Ozzy Osborne as a teenager, found himself part of a small town scandal involving satanic rituals when he was in high school. The rumors were obviously never true, and we all know that satanic imagery was just Gen X’s way of conveying shock value and rebellion. But to have lived through that, with that knowledge, and still think there was something genuinely wrong with me for claiming my own version of it is just....fucking asinine to me. But honestly that whole experience is another story entirely.

Back to my point, one day I was clothes shopping with my mom at target. (I’ll preface this story by telling you this was the last time I stepped foot in a target with another person until I was 19 years old. And even then, he just showed up and I nearly had a panic attack.) She and I had went to try stuff on and she barged into the changing room behind me. I begged her to get out, that I wanted privacy. She demanded to see how the jeans fit. They didn’t. I already knew they wouldn’t when I went in there and knew what she’d say when she found out. She berated me, loudly, about how the seams were going to burst. How she couldn’t believe I couldn’t even button a pair of pants. When I had been sufficiently reduced to a crying mess on a changing room floor she slipped out and sweetly told me to let her know how everything else looked. This is what she does, brings you to your lowest point and then suddenly turn on this sickly sweet charm. It simultaneously drives it all home and makes you look insane for being upset. My father does the same thing. I’ve never been able to tell who learned it from who.

It was about this time that MySpace became a thing. Mom knew I had one but was too naive to ever look at it. Social media felt like a safe haven to me. It had my music, my friends. I could obsess over whatever new band was breaking onto the scene. I could be myself without ridicule. Until one night, anyway. A cousin of mine had seen my page, reported it to my grandmother, who immediately called mom to tell her she needed to look at the “sick shit” I was posted on the Internet. My mother burst into the room, threw me out of my chair, and proceeded to pour over my profile. It was all studded belts and black lipstick. My profile song was “My Sweet 666” by HIM. My sexual orientation was listed as bi. My mother and I both very nearly stroked the fuck out as she took it all in.

My brain, in a last ditch effort to save itself, has repressed most of the conversation that night. I’m thankful for that. It’s a lot of the reason I’ve never really told anyone what happened that night - I can’t fucking remember it. But I do remember my mother telling me how disgusting it would be to be bisexual, and how even if I was (and she was adamant that I couldn’t possibly know what it even meant), it would never be something to admit out loud. This was her moment to tell me all the horrible things she had ever thought about me. I don’t remember what all was said, but I remember lying on the floor begging for her to stop. That I loved her. That I was sorry I wasn’t what she wanted. She never stopped. Eventually, she came to my weight. Again, I don’t remember it all verbatim but I do remember being told that I ever did was “eat and gorge and eat and gorge.” To this day, I can still hear those words when I look in the mirror. Ive spent a lot of time shoving them out of my head, but my god are they loud sometimes.

We moved to the lake when I was 12. My mom had recently had my younger sister and was working 5am to well past midnight some nights. That left me and my stepdad at home. My school bus would only drop us off at the end of the road but my stepdad refused to pick me up like the other parents did. He told me it would be good for me to get the exercise and walk. Our house sat at the end of a 2 mile long gravel road. The heat rose well over 100° daily. I was head to toe in long, black layers. I passed out on that walk more than once. Even when I did make it to the house, he would lock the doors and windows. He told me to go run laps and when he felt like I had done enough, he would let me in the house. He was going to force the weight off of me if he had to.

I told my mother more than once and she either outright denied it, refused to deal with it, or sided with my stepfather. She sings a much different tune now that their marriage has fallen apart and she’s searching for reasons to hate him, but the fact remains...it was abuse. Neither of them ever actually cooked so I survived off of energy drinks and crackers. Mom would come into my room, find the wrappers, and tell me I would be 300lbs one day if I don’t stop funneling food into my face. It didn’t matter what I did though, the weight wouldn’t leave. This was partly due to the fact that I was fucking 12 years old, and partly due to the fact that, to all of our surprise, I had a thyroid condition. I also had faulty ovaries which only further threw off my hormonal balance. The rest of that summer they were kind to me. Shoved food at me, coddled me. I always imagined it was because they felt guilty. But it didn’t last.

That summer I moved back to my dad’s. Up until this point my father had always firmly been on my side in this battle against my mother. That changed immediately. He put me on the Atkins diet and I felt like I was dying every day. Fuck, I even gained weight. I resorted myself to the fact that I would never have a happy home life but school would be different. I didn’t take into account that I had just stepped back into a small town and I looked like an extra on a Marilyn Manson music video shoot. People I’d known since preschool, who all claimed to be excited to have me back, ostracized me in one glance. I was goth, I’d gotten fat, and I was immediately tossed in the reject pile. I attempted suicide for the first time that night, a month shy of my 13th birthday.

A lot of things happened in my teen years that aren’t entirely worth mentioning here because it’s all the same. My dad started looking into plastic surgeons because he was sure I would have grotesque, loose skin once I finally lost weight. He also became fixated on the idea that I must have something wrong with me because “all that extra weight has to be putting strain on your organs. You have to have diabetes or damage to your heart.” I was taken to every doctor in the tristate area it seemed, searching for a condition that was simply never there. When a doctor would start questioning his reasoning for this, we would move to another doctor. I’m not saying I was a victim of Munchausens by proxy, I’m just saying the line was getting a little blurry. We never found a problem with my heart but it all later manifested as crippling hypochondria.

Eventually I just started blocking it all out. I stopped engaging when someone called me fat and started focusing on just getting the fuck away from them all. I refused to put myself down, out loud at least. I was going to train my brain to love the body it inhabited. And I did, kind of, for a while. I realized I never really had an issue with my body. I had an issue with everyone else having an issue with my body. Therapists, teachers, friends, family. Everybody felt the need to make a comment. And looking back, I nearly throw up. I was barely overweight. I was 150lbs when my father had me do my first glucose test. I will never understand how someone can become so fucking obsessed with the size of other people.

All of this was going pretty well until I went back to working at the haunted house. When you’ve spent years disciplining your brain into not hating everything about yourself, you stop hating other people too. You become a little kinder, a little softer. I was still new to this though and my newfound confidence was fragile at best. My new family quickly started to remind me of my old one. They were negative, toxic people. They were bitter at the way life had panned out for them and projected that onto everyone around them. No one was safe, and no one was your friend. When you’ve been on red alert since birth, you learn to recognize this pretty quick. So again, I just didn’t engage. I heard the horrible things they’d say but I let it roll off. The one time, in a moment of unbridled rage that I did stand up, I was immediately shot down. They pretended to handle the cause of the problem, but they looked at me with distain. It pissed them off that they had to take time out of their day to deal with a fat girl. They never said anything to me directly, but they always made sure I was in earshot. If I didn’t want to be called a whale, lose weight it’s not that hard. Stop being so sensitive. A stronger me would’ve said something. Burned the place down. Something. But I felt defeated. I was exhausted. These were supposed to be my friends and no one, NO ONE stepped up for me. It became crystal clear to me that no one would ever defend me in this life. All that negativity started to creep in, no matter how hard I fought it.

But I did fall in love at the haunt. And for a while he made me feel beautiful. I remember telling a friend of mine that it was the first time I’d ever felt comfortable sitting naked in front of someone without posing. But it brought to light a lot of insecurities I didn’t realize I was still hanging on to. He used to ask me to model lingerie for him anytime I bought it. I remember feeling overwhelming flattered that he would even want to see it, but also fucking terrified. So I refused, no matter how badly I wanted to do it. He eventually stopped asking, and my anxiety riddled brain concluded that it was because he didn’t find me sexy anymore. This idea backed by the fact that he only told me I was beautiful or that he loved me when he was drunk. He remained friends with the people at the haunt who put me down. I was left to assume he agreed with them. I want it to be known I don’t blame him for this. He had no idea what I was dealing with or where it all came from. I was afraid to have the conversation and my inability to do so is my own fault. He did the best he knew how to with what I gave him. I know that.

Sex has always made me feel empowered. It felt like a reclamation of my body. It was truly my liberation, but it would also be my downfall. To be as sexual as I am, I often don’t enjoy sex. I can never do the things I want to do, take control the way I want to, cum the way I want to, if I cum at all. I am forever thinking of what I might look like to them. What I smell like, what I move like. A fun side effect of severe hormonal imbalance is hirsutism, skin conditions, thinning hair. So not only am I fat, I’m hairy AF, have acne, and the hair that I do want is falling out. Do you know how fucking mortifying it feels to not be able to let a guy grab your ass because you know you haven’t fucking shaved it recently? And even when you do the window for feeling hairless is smalllll. My ex boyfriend probably only truly grabbed my ass a handful of times (there’s a pun there somewhere). But I couldn’t have that conversation with him. Wouldn’t. This is why I got into cosmetology so early. Fuck, it’s why I got into the tattoo industry too if I’m honest. If you don’t like the house, you paint the fucking walls right? It was just another (and admittedly much healthier) way of reclaiming my body.

If I am not the height of femininity, if I don’t ooze sex appeal and porn star magic, they won’t want me. I started placing a lot of my self worth in how sexually desirable I could be. Sex, at best, is an ego boost. And not a very good one. Since becoming single I’ve come into contact with a menagerie of men. They too have all had something to say. And they all play on a loop in my head. Here’s a list:

- “I’ve been with women with perfect bodies and ya know *side eye* not so perfect bodies.”

- “Ya know, if you were just a few inches taller you’d actually have a decent body.”

- “You remind me of Lardi B and she’s hot. I’m really into big girls. Send me a picture of your fat pussy.”

- “You know you’re a catfish, right?”

- “I’ll fuck anything, I used to hate fat chicks but honestly if you wanna fuck I’d be down.”

- “I secretly have a thing for bigger girls, but I’d never date one.”

I’ve shot down every invitation to hook up for the past year. I get on tinder for 5 seconds, immediately hear that catfish line in my head, and close back out again. I’ve stopped wearing makeup unless I have to. I dress in leggings and oversized tunics almost daily. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I have an eating disorder but have discussed it with no one. I do not know how to proceed from this point. I’m not at my lowest, but I’m somewhere close. My insecurities are my own problem but I don’t know how to get the reassurance I need without making it somebody else’s. But telling someone to call me beautiful, to gas me up, to put my mind at ease negates the point. I can’t place my self esteem in someone else’s hands. But my healing requires the ability to have that conversation. And that’s the hardest part.

I’m a grown woman now and my mother still grabs my double chin, just in case I forgot it was there. She still balks at my stretch marks. She recently told me she admired me for the way I dress. Said if she was my size she could never because she would be too ashamed. It was meant as a compliment. Funny how backhanded those can be sometimes. I think about her a lot and what kind of mother I would want to be. Both of my parents struggled with eating disorders. My mom still does. I know it’s the root of all her criticism. But I don’t want to be her. I don’t want to project my own trauma into my children one day. I think a lot about what I would say to 7 year old me. I’ve written her letters. Told her I was sorry for not loving her, for not being kinder. That it wasn’t her fault that the adults in her life failed her. I think of what I would say to a daughter. To a son. I like to imagine that I tell them these stories one day and they look at me in disbelief. I want self love to be so deeply ingrained that the concept of body shaming is unrealistic to them. But I can’t give them what I don’t have. So for now, I’ll work on that.

There is no real conclusion to this tale, I just needed to bitch for a minute.

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theechoofadistanttide-blog · 7 years

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Feeling like I’m having a nervous breakdown

Hey guys so ok this is gonna be a very long post ‘cause I’m having a nervous breakdown and I dont think I can keep going like this.

From where do I start?

I’m listening to “Fuck you” so probably I should start by speaking about Federico. Federico was my ex boyfriend and we were together for about 4 months (you may think it’s not so much time but for me it is). So you know how we broke up? No? Well, me neither. I was just getting very annoyed by his attitude and he gradually stopped asking me to hang out. So one day I called him and he didnt answer. After that day we didnt see each other anymore. That sucks right? No it doesn’t because I am a fucking strange person that can’t prove normal feelings.

I just let it go. That’s the end. And when I see him around the city with his friends, I’m only able to complain about them being all FUCKBOYS!

I FUCKING HATE FUCKBOYS

You wanna know where my hate comes from? All the guys I meet in this fucking city (which is making me wanna throw up so bad) anyway, all the guys just wanna fuck me and I’m fucking fed up! I deserve love and emotions and all those beautiful stuff that you get when someone CARES. I feel like no one cares, so why should I?

I went on a therapy till december, then I had to stop taking ZOLOFT ‘cause it was giving me more anxiety. So I started another therapy. On my own. I started building self-confidence. And now I seriously believe that I’m worthy and that I am unique and that no one can put me down. I SERIOUSLY believe that I’m an amazing creature with all the right stuff in the right place. So where’s the point?

The point is that I’m fed up of being forced to separate sex from emotional commitment: SEX IS EMOTIONAL COMMITMENT, YOU STUPID HYPOCRITES, IF YOU DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THE OTHER PERSON IS LIKE YOU’RE MASTURBATING WITH A DOLL YA KNOW.

But that’s not the end of my relationships’story: ever since I lost virginity I only ended up with guys who wanted to have sex without using fucking condoms. That’s thei point of view: OK YOU KNOW GIRL YOU’RE AMAZING BUT I CANT TAKE ON COMMITMENT CAUSE I’VE LOVED TOO MUCH IN MY LIFE SO JUST LET’S HAVING SEX! AH BUT SWEETIE I DONT USE CONDOMS: I CANT FEEL YOUR VAGINA, YA KNOW. BUT DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT: I CAN CONTROL MYSELF!

YOU KNOW WHAT? NO YOU CAN’T CONTROL YOURSELF! NOBODY CAN! Your fucking penis produces seminal stuff even BEFORE and DURING sex!

What about getting sick??????????? Syphilides? HIV??? FUCK YOU ALL!

This year I had to take 3 (THREE) day-after-pills... Which is like killing your uterus.... I was stupid but what else could I do? Ya... maybe being more conscious and force them to use condoms... But you know, when you fucking hate yourself you don’t care much about future and consequences... You’re just not able to think critically. You do the bad things, you choose bad.

All I thought about ever since a while was being high...

So now we get to another big point of this overwhelming situation: PARENTS... Ya it seems like I got the perfect family: mum’s lawyer, dad’s a doctor... What could be wrong with ita? Just another bored girl complaining about not getting enough attention. NO

I mean, I’m aware of the fact that my life is not SERIOUSLY bad, but anyways: my parents are divorced, my dad is still a fuckboy. He got used to living alone so he does whatever he wanna do, he goes wherever and whenever, without caring about two daughters’ real problems. What if my mum wants to leave for a weekend and leave my little sister with him? She couldnt because “HE’S GOT PROGRAMS”. FUCK I GOT A PROGRAM TOO: I WANNA GETAWAY FROM HERE RIGHT NOW!

Anyway there we get to the other big problem: MY MUM... She’s been developping anorexia’s mentality since a couple ago, she doesn’t eat (like 1 coffee and half of a zucchini during all day, when she gets really depressed)... Oh, depression... Ya, a single mum with two problematic daughters, a private career (which is falling into pieces) and other shitty problems CAN GET DEPRESSION. It’s easy, though... But the bigger matter is that she denies it and she gets worse everyday ‘cause her situation gets worse (my grandma is sick, one of my mum’s best friends got cancer and she cant sleep because of worrying too much)... And when I told my father, he said I was wrong after she immediately denied.

Ah, my little sister gets mad with me when I tell my mother to eat. She’s like: “stop telling her what to do she’s an adult, she can take care of herself”

FUCK NO SHE CANT STOP SAYING THAT! SHE’D DIE IN A COUPLE OF MONTHS! SHE SUFFERS OF HEART RATING PROBLEMS! IF SHE DOESNT EAT AND KEEP GOING THIS HARD ON THINGS SHE WILL DIE! FUCK YOU STUPID TEENAGE GIRL

So I’m under pressure. I’M UNDER PRESSURE OK! MY MOM IS NOT ABLE TO GROW MY SISTER UP LIKE SHE DID WITH ME! SHE DOESN’T GET ANY RULE! I DON’T GET ANY RULE! Ok I’m 18 so I can understand when it’s time to stop a little back but SHE CAN’T EVEN UNDERSTAND WHEN IT’S TIME TO TIDY UP HER BEDROOM! She never does it cause nobody tells her! Nobody ever told her! And that’s a stupid example.

Ok, so I’m 18 right? And I got no rules ok? Yeah... cool... I can avoid sleeping, eating and going back home and living properly... I got sick for a week this summer and had to stop smoking.. But then I got better and kept smoking and drinking. Yeah maybe it’s not because I got no rules but because I like it and because it’s the only way to have fun and enjoy your time out in this fucking deserted city full of fucking bastards.

Maybe smoking and drinking arent an issue apparently. But what about taking care? That’s the issue. Here nobody teaches you how to take care of yourself.

So I feel like falling down... And it’s a fucking fast fall. And I get fucking blamed for this.

“You don’t help enough. You’re never happy. Everything someone does for you is shit. You always blame others for your faults. Don’t you think that maybe I’m so tired and depressed because of you, do you? You make me worry so much.”

That’s what my mom keeps repeating. And I keep feeling terribly guilty. For what? For being an adolescent and for having my mother tired to death... I’ve always paid attention to other’s feelings and conditions... I can’t help with this.

I CAN’T HELP WITH THIS OK. STOP. SAYING. THAT I AM. A. FUCKING. MESS. ! Cause you know what, mother? I’M NOT! I’M SUPER COOL AND I NEVER DISAPPOINTED YOU! I WAS PERFECT AT SCHOOL, I GOT THE BEST GRADES IN MY CLASS AND EVERY FUCKING TEACHER COMPLIMENTED! WHAT DO YOU WANT? I’M ONLY 18 AND I’VE ALREADY WRITTEN A COUPLE OF BOOKS! I GOT PLANS FOR MY FUTURE!

SO WHAT? I’M DEPRESSED? I SMOKE? I DRINK? I AM NOT EMOTIONALLY BALANCED? I AM NOT GOING TO APOLOGIZE FOR THAT. NEVER.

IT’S NOT MY FUCKING FAULT! I DIDN’T CHOOSE TO BE CONSTANTLY SAD AND TIRED! ! IT’S NOT MY FAULT....

(My mother doesn’t eat at all when I don’t want to eat... I can’t help with this... Sometimes I just cant think about eating...)

AND FUCK YOU NEVER APPRECIATE MY GOOD MOMENTS AND PERIODS! Like when I’m on top, when I feel like I can do everything.... You never get that.... FUCK YOU!

So being in this fragile situation gives me a lot of stress and anxiety... Luckily I finished school so now I can focus on things I like (and even there, when I wanna do things that I like, there are always problems)..

FUCK THIS CITY FUCK PEOPLE WHO LIVE HERE FUCK MONEY PROBLEMS FUCK FAMILY FUCK MUM FUCK EVERYBODY I WANNA SET YOU ALL AND MY FUCKING LIFE ON FIRE

So you’re reading a lot of anger in my words.. Your’re right, but anger is the only true feeling for me... Sometime I imagine really bad things (like tonight I started thinking about me being raped by my ex’s friends... with my ex being there knowing everything) just to check whether I’m still able to feel sorrow or not.

I often imagined my parents dying... Just for curiosity.. So I think about my feelings: how would I feel? How much would I cry? Would I cry??? What about my sister??

And sometimes I can’t answer, like if there was absolutely nothing in my soul...Just darkness and perdition.

I know it sounds so stupid and pathetic but that’s how I currently truly feel.

Lost.

I used to be really sensitive and cry for everything but then I stopped. Now I am just disgusted. DISGUSTED.. By humanity, first of all.

Lost and disgusted: is there any remedy?

Maybe being high and drunk all tha way.

I fucking hate this place and wanna go away.. Still have to wait for october for university... but actually I just wanna getaway.

The most important thing for me is living a pleasant life and never regret anything.... This city and this situation and the people surrounding me are making me regret a lot. They are making me live with anxiety etc..

SPLEEN. ok? Maybe spleen is my problem.... That’s all.

Fuck. Thank you guys for reading

I just want to let you know that if you read all this you’re my super-heroes.

Thanks, seriously

theechoofadistanttide

#sad #depressing thoughts #life #problems #bad #evile #smoke #weed #alcochol #zoloft #therapy #discussions #vintage #talk #anger #pink #i'm sorry #green

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thefinny-d · 7 years

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In Slow Motion, I Watch You Fall

Tagging: Finn, Rachel & Finn’s Parents Location: Apartment, Hospital Notes: When Finn gets a call that his mother was in a car accident, the night he had planned to stay in and relax with Rachel takes a very different turn.

Finn had been back with Rachel for a little over a week and already he could feel that things were different between them. They were stronger than they had ever been and he knew it was because she had found herself. It seemed easier all of a sudden to talk about the things that had once immediately caused them to fight - Josh, her addiction, their past. Suddenly they were able to talk about those things and he didn't find himself getting insecure and Rachel wasn't growing angry. Things were good between them and he knew that he was going to make it his mission to ensure they remained that way. The two of them were lounging around the apartment, enjoying their time off of work together and Finn smiled as he looked at Rachel, cuddled up against him while they watched a movie. "Every time we watch a movie I think about our first time," he said with a laugh before he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Before he could say anything else his phone rang and when he glanced down and saw it was from a number didn't recognize, he sighed. "Why do random numbers always call me," he breathed out, shaking his head before he answered. "Hello?" "Is this Finn Hudson?" Finn furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he confirmed that it was indeed him, not knowing who could be calling him, especially when it was getting pretty late. "Mr. Hudson, this is Officer Long. Your mother has been in an accident and she's at Good Samaritan right now. Her condition is stable but she was under the influence of alcohol. You were her emergency contact and she'd like to see you before she's discharged and taken into custody." "Oh I - okay. I... I'll be there soon," he said quickly before ending the call. Finn set his phone down before he pulled away from Rachel slightly and put his head in his hands. "My mom was in a car accident," he breathed out before he turned to look at Rachel. "She was drunk." Finn knew that his mom had relapsed and fallen right back into her addiction but he had hoped desperately that it wouldn't come to this. Not when she had already had two DWI's before as well. "I need to see her. They're... they're going to take her to jail," he said, feeling himself beginning to get overwhelmed. "I don't know what to do. I need to get her out of this."

Rachel couldn't believe that things were finally working out. Obviously, it wasn't just because she was sober -- she had been sober before and things were still fucked up between them. But she felt a lot better about herself and she knew that Finn didn't have to worry in return about her, so it made things a lot easier for him. They were just in a relationship and she didn't have to worry about him saving her or trying to make things better between them. "Hey, I mean, that's fine with me. If it keeps reminding you of our first time, then you're bound to want to have sex tonight. That works for me. I have no problem recreating our first time," She grinned, the smile only widening when she felt his lips on the top of her head. She ignored the phone ringing before she looked at Finn as he answered it, her only hearing mumbling on the other line. When he hung up, Rachel watched as he pulled away, her sitting up a little more when he put his head in his hands. "Babe, I'm sorry." She said softly, looking at Finn for a moment. She knew what it felt like to relapse -- to get in that bad of a place, but thankfully, she had never gotten in an accident or gotten involved with the police for anything that had happened to her. "I don't know what to tell you, babe. I- uhm, are we going right now? You want me to come, right? If you don't, I'd get that too. But uhm... we can help her with whatever you want to. But Finn, please don't feel like you need to fix the entire thing. You can't make all the decisions for her and you can't stop her from doing what she wants because she's her own person. I know what it's like. But she does need help. Whatever you want to do, we can do, okay? I just want to help you. I know you, and you're going to put all of yourself into trying to help your mom. And it's why I love you, but please don't lose yourself in this. Before we do anything and help her with anything." Rachel said softly, looking into his eyes.

Finn was tired of alcohol hurting everyone that was important to him in his life. He was tired of always cleaning up his mom's mess. But he knew that he would do it, he always did. Despite all of her shortcomings, he still loved his mom and he knew that when she was sober, she was the best mom in the world. He just wanted her to be sober again. "I - yeah, I want you to come. I - I need you to come," he said softly as he looked into Rachel's eyes. "I just want her to be better, you know? I just want her to stop doing this to herself when I know that she can be sober. I know that she can be that person." Finn smiled softly at Rachel, knowing that despite this horrible situation, he was relieved he had her. If this had happened when they were broken up, he knew that it would only overwhelm him more than it was now. "I love you," he told her before he pressed a kiss to her lips. "I guess we should go to the hospital. I - I just want to see her before they take her to jail. I'm sure it'll be a few days before they post bail for her and - god, I hate that I have to do this again. I hate that I'm always being her parent instead of her being mine." Finn moved to get up from the couch, getting his shoes on before he grabbed his phone and keys, knowing that he just wanted to see his mom and make sure that she was okay. "I'm sorry, baby. I just... I just wanted to spend tonight relaxing with you and of course this had to happen." Finn knew that no matter what he was relieved that him and Rachel were good because their relationship being in a good place definitely made it easier for him to be more level headed. Rachel always helped him calm down when he got too worked up. "I guess all we can do is see how she is and... and talk to her a little bit before they take her to jail. And then... then I'll figure out how to get her out of there and hopefully get her into treatment again." As him and Rachel headed out of the apartment, he slipped his hand into hers on the short walk to the car. Once they were in the car, he sighed before he began to drive towards the hospital, knowing that he just wanted to get this over with.

Rachel shook her head immediately as Finn apologized, sighing gently. "Don't be sorry. It's fine, Finn." Rachel grabbed a sweater and slid it on before she put on her shoes and grabbed her bag, following him out of the apartment. She just hated that this had to happen to him and she wished that he got to have a normal relationship with his mom. She just could never imagine what had gone through Finn's mind when she used to just be constantly trashed all of the time. Did he think she'd be a bad mom? Rachel never thought she'd be a good mom, but he always assured her otherwise. She did want kids -- really far in the future when she actually had some kind of stable life. She could never imagine that anytime soon. In fact, it scared the hell out of her. Just like marriage used to. But now it excited her. And also made her extremely nervous every single time someone mentioned it. "I know you'll want to talk to her, Finn. Just take it slow, okay? Your mom needs to get help. I know you obviously don't want her to go to jail, and I don't want to see her there either. But when she gets out, we just need to figure out what to do to help her. We can't get overly involved, because I learned more than anyone that you need to want to help yourself. You helped me see that. And if she doesn't want that, then I don't know what to do for her, Finn." She paused, not wanting to upset him as she looked out the car window. "I want more than anything for you to just have a good relationship with your mom. Where you can just be her son without you worrying about all of this stuff." Rachel offered him a sad smile, reaching over the middle console to rest her hand on his thigh, rubbing it gently and comfortingly. "We'll help her. I want to help you with whatever you need. Whatever you need from me, please let me know. I just want to help you."

Finn nodded when Rachel told him that they couldn't get overly involved with his mom's situation. He knew that she was right, he did, but he also just wanted to protect his mom. "It just sucks. She was sober, you know? When I first came home from Stanford she was sober for a little over a year and then my dad came back and ruined everything. God, I can't stand him. I'm so glad you never met him." Finn had never had a good relationship with his father and he knew it was because of the way that his dad treated his mom. When Rachel moved her hand to rest on his thigh, he looked over at his girlfriend with a small smile on his face. "You being here with me is all that I need, Rachel. I love you. I - I'm so glad that we're okay because I don't know if I could handle all of this without you," he said, moving to rest his hand on top of hers. The drive to the hospital didn't take much longer and Finn couldn't help but sigh as he got out of the car. "I can't get away from hospitals," he said with a small laugh before he started heading inside with Rachel. After finding the room number for his mother, he took a deep breath as they started heading in that direction. He hated that he was so used to this. That he was actually used to cleaning up his mom's mess all the time. It wasn't hard to find the room his mother was in when he saw a cop waiting outside and Finn held Rachel's hand just a little tighter as they approached the man. "Um, hi. I'm Finn Hudson. Carole's son," he said softly. When the man stepped aside to let them in, he felt his heart fill with sadness the second he saw his mom. She was okay as far as he could tell, sitting up in bed with a few cuts that she had across her forehead. "Hi mom," he said before he leaned down to hug her tightly, closing his eyes when she started to cry in his embrace. "Finn, I'm so sorry," Carole cried as she held him back tightly. "It's okay, mom. It's going to be okay. We'll fix this, I promise," he said softly, rubbing her back before he pulled away from her gently. "What did the doctors say was wrong? Do you have any injuries?" he asked her worriedly before he began to attempt to check over her himself, his mom immediately slapping his hand away from the cut on her forehead. "I'm fine, sweetie. They're just keeping me here because I had a concussion but I'm okay. I just swerved off the road and hit the median. I'm alright." Finn sighed, wishing that this hadn’t happened. God, all he wanted was for his mom to be sober again. "Rachel?" Carole said the second she caught sight of the brunette, her looking from Finn to his girlfriend. "Oh um, we're back together. I haven't gotten the chance to tell you yet." "Oh thank god. There's some good news tonight," Carole said with a small smile on her face, causing Finn to smile softly as well as he looked over at his girlfriend.

Rachel shrugged gently, looking over at him. "He sounds like a piece of shit. I don't mind if I have to meet him, but if he was an ass to me, I'd be an ass right back. We're bound to cross paths eventually, but I hope it's not anytime soon." Rachel didn't really care to ever meet him, but she wasn't going to try and avoid him forever. If them meeting happened, she'd deal with it. Following Finn into the hospital, she kept a hold of his hand, keeping close to him as they walked. She wanted to be there for him, and she didn't want him to push her away. However, she didn't want to be too overbearing either. She wanted to give him space, and that meant being there but not trying to tell him what to do. The moment they went into Carole's room, Rachel keeping her head down and keeping quiet as Finn moved over to his mom. She felt bad -- she felt Finn's heart practically breaking in front of her and she hated that he had to deal with it all himself. She wanted to help him with whatever she could. "Yeah, uhm... hi. This have been really great. I'm happy that things are back to normal for the two of us again." Rachel said softly, smiling gently before moving over to his mom for a moment and going to hug her gently before pulling away with a small smile. "It's good to see you. I wish it wasn't here, but nonetheless... it's still really nice to see you again. I haven't seen you in a long time."A fter a moment, Rachel moved back over to Finn, taking his hand gently and intertwining their fingers. Usually, whenever Rachel saw Carole, it wasn't anywhere amazing, and she always felt horrible about it. Rachel, just for once, wanted things to be normal for Finn so that he could have his mom there to witness how good everything was doing for the both of them.

Finn looked at Rachel and smiled softly as she spoke to his mom. How did he get so lucky to have such an amazing girlfriend? If there was any light in this situation, he knew that it was the fact that he had Rachel. When she moved to take his hand, he looked at her with love in his eyes before he brought her hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of her palm. "You two look happy," Carole said softly as she looked from Rachel to Finn with a small smile on her face. "It feels good to see you in a healthy relationship. I was worried that you seeing me and your father growing up would make it difficult for you." Finn couldn't help but sigh softly as he looked down. He hated that his mom was so aware of the situation that she was in and yet so unwilling to change it. She had been in the same patterns with his dad and her drinking since he was little and he just wanted her to find a place where she would be okay again. "Is he home again? Is that why you were drinking and driving?" he asked his mom as he looked at her worriedly, not even needing her to answer when her gaze shifted from his and to her lap. "Because I know you have a breathalyzer in your car from the last time. And he blew in it for you, didn't he?" Finn hated how horribly his dad enabled his mom and he hated that she was so attached to him even though he wasn't good to her in the slightest. "We got in a fight and he told me to leave, so I did. I know I shouldn't have been driving but I had to. They called him but he didn't answer, I don't even know if he's still home," Carole said with a sigh. "Mom, you know they're going to take you to jail from here, right? A-And I can't get you out this time until they set bail. And... and even then I don't know if I'll be able to help you stay out. I can... I can pay whatever fine they give you but I can't keep you out of jail. If they want you to go to treatment, you have to do that. You know that, right?" He watched as his mom's face fell and he felt horrible when he saw her eyes fill with tears. "I'm better off just going to jail. What did treatment do anyway? Nothing." He could tell that she was frustrated and while he wanted to help her, he truly didn't know how to anymore. "Stop. You're not going to choose jail over treatment. You need to get better, mom. You have to stop drinking like this," he said, trying his best not to get angry with her when she was in such a fragile state.

Rachel really didn't want to be in the middle of this. She didn't want to have to get in the middle of Finn and his mom's conversation when she knew that she really had no right to say anything. Who was she? She was in the same place as Carole not that long ago and Rachel still wasn't one hundred percent. Then again, she hadn't been drinking at all, and she was doing way better. Rachel just wished that things could be better for the both of them. There was a part of her that knew that she just really couldn't ever say anything because she had been there. And Rachel didn't really have any advice because she had never been in this situation. Rachel looked down for a moment as Finn spoke again, taking in a deep breath. "Don't say that you're better off going to jail, Carole. Anything is better than that. Please. Finn and I want to help you. When you get out of jail, we can help you. Stopping isn't easy and I- I know that and we've had conversations about this before when I was younger and first started dating Finn. I want to see you get better, too. Finn just wants to help, you know? So do I. Anything you need." Rachel didn't want to overstep, and already, she felt like she could. "I don't... I don't want to make you upset after everything you've been through so I just- I'm not going to say anything else. I don't want to overstep either. I just- I know I really have no right to say anything, so I- I'm sorry." Rachel knew it was weird that she sounded awkward and unsure of herself, especially when she always just spoke her mind and didn't care what anyone else thought. But speaking to Carole definitely made her extremely unsure of what to say for the fear of upsetting her or Finn.

Finn nodded as Rachel spoke. They just wanted to help his mom and he wished that she could see that. He wished that she could see a life for herself that was sober and that didn't involve his dad. "You're not overstepping, baby," he said softly as he looked at Rachel, knowing that he appreciated everything that she had to say. "Mom, Rachel has been doing so well with her sobriety lately and I - I know that you can do the same. What's helped a lot for Rachel is excercising and focusing on her music. Maybe we can find a class or something that you can take, get you involved in something," he suggested as he looked at his mom hopefully. "Finn, stop," she said softly. "Rachel, I'm so proud of you. I really am. I'm so happy you've found something that's working for you. But what works for you won't work for me. I'm going to get out of here, go to jail, get out and repeat just like I always do. You know that, Finn." Hearing his mom so down about her situation truly broke his heart and he honestly didn't know what to do anymore. "No, I don't know that. What you need to do is get away from that asshole," he said angrily. "He's the reason that you keep drinking. You need your own place and you need to cut yourself off from him." "Don't talk about your father that way," Carole said, shaking her head as she avoided eye contact with him. "I will call him that because he's been horrible to you and to me for as long as I can remember. A-And you're not staying with him. You're not going back to that apartment." "Finn, calm down. We'll figure it out when I get out," Carole said with a sigh. "I need you to stop by the apartment and bring the things back that I left in my car. Can you do that for me? If I take them with me, they'll just confiscate them when I get to the jail." Finn felt himself growing frustrated with his mom but before he could say anything else the officer stepped into the room. "Alright, Mrs. Hudson. Your discharge paper work is all signed. Time to go." "I - is there anyway we can talk just a little bit longer," he said as he looked from his mother to the cop. "I'm sorry but no, take what you need and we'll be on our way. We'll contact you in a couple days when it's time for the arraignment." Before Finn knew it, him and Rachel were alone in the hospital room and he sighed as his gaze shifted to the bag of his mom's things that was beside the bed. As he turned to his girlfriend, he attempted to offer her a small smile before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him, closing his eyes as he hugged her tightly. "Thank you for coming with me. I - I'm so sorry," he breathed out. "I guess we have to stop by the apartment to drop off her things, she didn't give me much of a choice," he said softly.

Rachel sighed as Carole spoke, knowing that she knew exactly how she felt. "I know that you feel like you can't, but you can. Everyone has a chance. I know you can do it if you find something that you're passionate about. Even if it's just your family," Rachel said softly, looking at her before she sighed. Obviously, Carole felt something for her husband, but Rachel knew that he had to be enabling her. Rachel could relate in a lot of ways to Carole's situation, but Rachel of course wasn't going to try and relate and say it out loud. Rachel could just try and find solutions that they could worry about in the future to help his mom. Rachel didn't speak as Finn started to get a little heated about his dad, a soft sigh escaping her lips. The moment they were alone, Rachel smiled sadly, nodding gently. "It's okay. Don't apologize. We'll just drop her stuff off at home and then we can just go home and try to talk and enjoy whatever time we have for the rest of the night. We can try and salvage whatever good is left of today." Rachel pulled away from the hug to look up at him and lean up to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Come on. Let's get out of here," She said before grabbing the bag of Carole's things that were next to the hospital bed. "We'll just be quick at your mom's house and then we can go home. We'll figure everything out as soon as we can. I know you want to help, Finn. But we have to take things day by day. Unfortunately, we can't do anything for a little bit."

Finn nodded when Rachel spoke, looking at her lovingly when she pulled out of the hug before they shared a soft kiss. It amazed him how a simple kiss from her could calm him down and he knew that he needed her more than anything. If he didn't have her he truly didn't know how he would be handling the situation. "I hate going back to that apartment," he said softly as he walked out of the hospital room with Rachel. "There's just a lot of bad memories there. It's one of the reasons why I always wanted to stay at your place back in high school." Finn knew that Rachel was aware of everything that had gone on with his mom and her addiction but he never really talked much about his dad. God, he couldn't stand his dad and the chance that he could be home when him and Rachel got there made him more nervous than he wanted to admit. When they reached the car, Finn sighed as he sat down in the drivers seat, running his hand over his face for a moment. "Okay. Let's go drop this stuff off and then we can just go home. I just want to focus on you for the rest of the night. I just want to focus on us," he said softly, offering Rachel a small smile as he looked at her with love in his eyes. "I love you." Finn leaned over to press a kiss to her lips before he started up the car, his heart racing in his chest as he got closer to his old home. "I really don't want to see him," he said softly. When they arrived at the apartment, Finn took Rachel's hand in his while he gripped the bag of his mothers things in the others, knowing that he just wanted to be in and out of the apartment. He knocked softly at the door and the second his father opened it, Finn could see the smirk that formed on his fathers face. "She going to jail again? Bitch deserves it after the way she talked to me tonight," Chris said, Finn gritting his teeth as he glared at the man. "We're just here to drop off her things. Not that you care." "Who the fuck is this?" When Finn saw his father raking his eyes over Rachel, Finn immediately only grew more angry. "My girlfriend. Leave her alone." "Ouch, Finn. Don't want your own dad to know your girlfriend? So this is why you keep going back to her, huh? Look at that ass," Chris said with a smirk before he wolf whistled at Rachel. "Shut the fuck up," he breathed out. "Smile when someone compliments you, princess," Chris said to Rachel with a lewd smirk on his face. "Fuck, Finn. She doesn't look too happy. She could probably use a good fuck since I'm sure you don't deliver. You've always been a little pussy around girls," Chris commented, only causing Finn's blood to boil more. "Leave her alone," he said once more, holding Rachel's hand in his before he tried to get past his father. God, he just wanted to leave.

Rachel knew by the way Finn was acting that the trip to the apartment wasn't exactly going to be the best thing. Rachel was positive she had only been here a handful of times -- and when she saw his mom, she was drunk. Things hadn't changed, but Rachel really wished they had. "I don't want to see him either, but we'll just be in and out as quickly as we possibly can." She said, looking over at him with a supportive smile. Once they got t the door and saw his dad open the door, Rachel took in a deep breath, disgust rising as she saw his eyes start to rake over her. Rachel kept her hand in Finn's, keeping close to him to try and ignore it. But as he continued to talk, Rachel couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Well, actually, this princess just got a good fuck this morning, so fuck off. He has no problem delivering unlike you probably would," She spat after Finn spoke, her following him into the apartment as she glared at him. "And don't call me princess. Leave Finn the fuck alone." Rachel didn't plan on being rude, but when someone talked like that to her, well, she was brought right back to high school and to her really old friends when this kind of talk was just normal. She defended herself now and she always would. It wasn't like she hadn't heard similar words, and while she defended herself a lot more physically back in high school -- usually she just slapped guys or girls the second they said horrible shit to her -- she was trying not to completely act like a bitch because she knew she was coming off that way. Not that it mattered, anyway.

Finn knew Rachel and he knew by the way that his father was talking to her that she wasn't about to take his shit. As she spoke to him, he bit down on his lip to hide a smile. He loved this girl so much. "Well fuck me, you've got a feisty one, Finn," Chris said with a smirk on his face as he followed them into the apartment. "I didn't think you had it in you. Although, there's a chance that she's only with you because you're some big shot doctor now. Does he buy you whatever you want - princess?" Chris said, clearly more than determined to piss them off even more than they already were. Finn started opening the bag of his mothers things, just wanting to drop everything off and have it in its right place and have his dad back off. He hated that he was making sexual comments towards Rachel and he hated that he had brought her into this environment. "Rach, you can go in the car, baby. You don't have to listen to him," he told her, not wanting her to be subjected to this any longer. "Oh, don't make her leave me just yet. We were just getting to know each other. I mean, she's just like your mom, isn't she, Finn? A little girl with daddy issues who can't seem to leave alcohol alone," Chris said with a laugh. "Would you leave her alone? Whatever the hell you think you know, you don't," he said angrily as he glared at his father. God, he just wanted him to go away more than anything. "God, I don't care about putting this stuff away, let's just go, Rach," he breathed out before he grabbed her hand gently in his and began leading her towards the door. However, before he could take more than a few steps, his father had gripped Rachel's wrist, a smirk on his face as he looked at the both of them. "You go ahead. She can stay with me. I'd like to find out just how flexible your girlfriend is. You can call me daddy and work out all your little issues through me, princess." At his dads words Finn felt his skin crawl in disgust and he immediately grabbed his dads arm to force him off of Rachel. "Let go of her. God, just leave us alone!"

Rachel looked at Finn as he told her to go back into the car, her managing a soft chuckle at his suggestion. "Yeah. I'm not going into the car. Thanks for the suggestion, though." She said, shrugging. But quickly, she realized it was probably a pretty decent idea because the second his dad started talking, she wished she could control the anger bubbling up inside of her. "Fuck you. You don't know anything about me. And Carole wouldn't have any fucking issues if it wasn't for you, asshole. You like preying on women? Making them your bitch? You probably treat them like shit the second you get them into bed. That's if you even last long enough to get a girl off. I'm sure it must be hard, huh? Now that you're some pig and you can't get a piece of ass? God, you're disgusting. All you care about is yourself. Fuck you. Go find someone else's family to fuck up -- you've clearly done enough here." She said before she felt Finn start to lead her away with his hand. The moment that she felt Chris's hand on her wrist, she was sure that she could feel herself snap. She froze in spot for a moment, ignoring Finn trying to defend her before she ripped her hand away to slap him across the face and push him away from her. She had been in far too many situations where men had tried to get with her by treating her like a piece of shit, and while she was used to it, she was equally as used to getting them to fuck off. It was clear that his dad was horrible and she couldn't imagine what he was like to his mom. Rachel wanted no part in talking to him at all and Rachel really couldn't believe that she used to surround herself with people like this. People that used to drag her down every single chance they got. "I thought I told you to fuck off." She said loudly, her breathing heavily as she looked at him, her fist clenching at her side. "If you ever put one hand on me again, god, I swear you'll regret it. If you think for one second I'd ever consider getting within one inch of you, you're a fucking pig. If I'm fucking away any of my issues, it's not with you." Rachel glared at him before she started to back up for a moment before starting to walk towards the door with Finn. "Let's just fucking go." She didn't want to have to deal with this and she didn't want to completely snap because she'd definitely feel bad having Finn have to watch her act out. She had been in her fair share of fights in high school and when she first moved to LA, and she didn't want to continue the trend now.

Finn hated that his own dad was such a horrible person. While he was used to his dad shitting on his life any time he went to his apartment, he had no idea that he would be this horrible to Rachel. When she started getting angry again, he didn't even try to stop her because he knew that his dad deserved it. His father was a horrible person who thought that women were objects and often times Finn had no clue how he had half of this mans DNA when they were nothing alike whatsoever. When Rachel slapped his dad across the face, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly in shock. He knew that Rachel wasn't afraid to defend herself but he definitely hadn't expected this. Not that he minded, of course. If she wanted to slap his asshole of a dad across the face then he definitely wasn't going to complain. "How did you know I'd like it rough?" Chris said to Rachel with a smirk. God, Finn wanted to punch him in the face himself at this point. "I see how it is, she calls the shots, huh, Finn? Not even enough of a man to keep your woman in check. She's got a bigger dick than you do." "Insult me all you want but you stay the fuck away from her, okay? Don't talk to her or look at her ever again. God, I hate you," he said angrily, relieved when Rachel started heading for the door. He quickly moved with Rachel out of the apartment, not wanting to fight with his dad any longer or hear any more of his comments. Finn didn't stop walking with her until they were at the car and he let out a small sigh of relief once they were both inside. "Oh my god, Rachel. I'm so sorry. I knew he was going to insult me but I didn't know how horrible he would be to you. I shouldn't have even brought you inside. God, I'm so sorry. No one should ever talk to you like that," he said as he looked at her worriedly. "I'm glad you said what you said to him though, he deserves every thing you told him. And you slapped him so - that was kind of amazing." Finn looked down and smiled softly before he looked back at Rachel. "I love you. And I - I will never put you in a situation like that again, I promise," he told her as he looked at her with love in his eyes. "He didn't hurt you when he grabbed you, did he?" he asked worriedly as he took her hand in his, fingers gently running along her wrist.

Rachel laughed at his dad's words, rolling her eyes. "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure Finn has a bigger dick than you. That's why you act like this probably, huh? To make up for it?" Rachel asked with a soft smirk before she got to the door. "Fuck you," She said before they went out of the apartment, crossing her arms the moment that they were seated in the car again. "It's fine." She said, looking forward for a moment as she tried to keep her gaze away from him for a moment. "He shouldn't insult anyone. And if he fucks with me, I'm going to fuck with him." Rachel looked over at Finn, shrugging. "I would have done worse, but I mean, it's your dad and I'm not looking to get put in jail, too. I don't need to get put away on assault charges." Rachel sighed, looking at Finn as he started looking at his wrist. "You're not going to be able to avoid that forever. And if I have to see him again, I'll just do the same shit. I don't care. He didn't really hurt me. He really grabbed me, but I think I hurt myself on my own when I ripped my hand away. It's a little red, but it's fine," She said, turning her wrist in Finn's hand before she sighed. "Can we just go home? I'm pissed and I need to listen to some music and calm myself down before I'm permanently a bitch for the rest of the night. What an asshole. How the fuck are you the way you are when your dad is like that? God, you're like some saint. Which is amazing. Because you're a gentleman and I love you for treating me the way you do. You treat me like some kind of royalty half of the time because that's just who you are. It's just amazing that his fucking sperm made you. Fuck him." Rachel said, sighing and running a hand over her face when she felt her thoughts starting to run away again. "Sorry. I'm trying to get calm. I don't want to keep pissing myself off. I just haven't been talked to like that in so long. It's gross. He's gross."

Finn knew that Rachel wasn't lying when she told him that she would have done worse. Even though she was small, she was definitely more than capable of handling herself and that was one of the things he loved about her so much. "He's disgusting. I hate that he even touched you. The fact that it's even a little red makes me want to go back in there and punch him in the face." A sigh escaped his lips as he looked at her wrist and when she asked him if they could go home, he nodded. All he wanted to do was go back to their home and forget about this interaction with the person who apparently was his father. "I guess some people turn into their parents but I knew that the way he acted was wrong ever since I was little. I never wanted anyone to tell me that I was like him. So I just, I did everything I could do be the exact opposite of him and I guess it worked." Finn could tell that she was pissed and he immediately started up the car since he did want her to relax a bit. They were away from his dad and in a safe space, he didn't want her enraged for the rest of the night. "Why don't you plug in your phone and we can listen to some music on the way back. Just focus on that," he said softly. The ride home didn't take too long and once they arrived he let out a breath, just relieved to know that they were away from his dad. God, he hated that Rachel had been talked to that way and while he knew it wasn't him that had said it, he still felt guilty for bringing her into that situation. Once they were in their apartment, Finn tossed his keys on the coffee table before he moved to sit on the couch, running his hands over his face as he tried to process everything that had happened in such a short amount of time. "God, I hate him," he breathed out before he brought his gaze to Rachel, looking at her worriedly. "Are you alright, baby?" She was upset and he hated that his dad had made her feel that way. He hated that he had brought her into that situation. All he wanted to do was make her feel better and make sure she knew that nothing his dad said meant anything.

Rachel nodded and connected her phone to listen to music, her immediately picking a random playlist so they didn't have to sit in silence and she could at least distract herself. A part of her really didn't even want to talk about it anymore, especially after everything that they just had to deal with. The second they got home and were in the doors of their apartment, Rachel sighed as she threw her bag down onto the ground by the door, kicking off her shoes before she looked at Finn who was sitting on the couch. "I'm fine." She said, her shaking her head before moving to the couch near him. "He's just an asshole," Rachel murmured before she went to sit on his lap, sighing softly before she leaned forward to kiss him. "I just hate that he said that shit. I mean, he clearly has no respect for anyone. Who says that shit to some random girl? Honestly. I mean, I've heard similar shit before, but he's such an asshole." Rachel rolled her eyes before she pulled away from him a little more, sitting more upright on his lap. "Let's just plan not to go back there. But if you do go back, I'm going with you. I don't want you going back to him alone. If he says anymore shit about you or me, I swear, he'll be on the floor with a black eye. And you know I"m not kidding." Sighing, Rachel busied herself with playing with the fabric of his shirt by his neck, keeping her gaze there as she tried to get her thoughts in order. "Sorry. I don't want to keep talking about it because I don't want to be pissed off the rest of the night." Rachel didn't want to piss Finn off by constantly talking about it, and she didn't want to ruin whatever part of the night they had left together. "I just want to enjoy the rest of the night with you. I don't want to worry about any other shit."

Finn nodded when Rachel said that his dad was an asshole. She wasn't wrong there, that was for sure. When she moved to sit on his lap, he immediately wrapped his arms around her, sighing contently as she pressed a kiss to her lips. "I hate that he said that too. I hate that he touched you or even knows who you are. I've tried my best to keep you away from him ever since we started dating in high school, god, I knew he would be bad but I didn't think he would be like this." As she spoke, Finn ran his hand gently up and down along her back, trying to calm her down as best as possible. He knew Rachel was angry from how his father had behaved and while he was pissed as well, he didn't want to let his dad have the power over them to dictate the rest of their night. "I'm usually pretty good at avoiding him. But I - Rach, I don't want you to have to see him again even if I do. I don't want him talking to you like that again," he said as he looked at her worriedly. "I know you're more than capable of handling yourself but you shouldn't have to be in that situation. I'm used to him insulting me, I can handle that. But I can't handle him saying things like that to you." As she toyed with the fabric of his shirt, Finn watched her carefully, knowing that she was attempting to calm herself down. "You don't have to be sorry, baby. It's okay," he said softly before he moved her hand to her cheek, running his thumb gently along her skin. "We don't have to think about anything else tonight except each other." Finn offered her a small smile before he pressed a kiss to her lips, lingering there for a moment before he pulled away. "Thank you for always being here for me," he whispered as he looked into her eyes. "I love you. And... and I love that you know how to calm me down and how to distract me. I love that when you kiss me I can feel myself relax even if it's just for that moment." Finn knew that he was lucky to have Rachel, that he was lucky to experience a connection with someone that was so genuine. "I'm sorry my family is such a mess. I - I'm really happy that one day when we have kids that they'll never have to know what this is like. I always knew that one day when I had a family that I would make sure they got to be kids, you know? They'll have a childhood that's happy and - and filled with trips to Disney and they'll have two parents that love and respect each other and them."

Rachel sighed as Finn spoke, nodding. Obviously, Finn was never going to want to have her see his dad ever again, but she knew that if she had to, she'd defend herself then just like she did now. "I don't like him saying shit to you, either. I don't care if you're used to it. I'm used to people saying shit to me, too. I'm not worried about him saying anything to me. I don't think he'd have the balls to actually do shit to me, and I mean, if he did, I'd probably end up in jail with the shit I'd do to him." Rachel managed out a soft laugh, shaking her head gently. "Kidding. But not kidding." Rachel looked at him as she felt his hand on her cheek, looking into his eyes with a small smile. "Okay. That sounds really great." Rachel murmured before she felt his lips on hers, her smiling gently as he pulled away. "I'll do anything for you. I promise. I'll be here for you whenever you need me. I know it's the other way a lot of the time, but I want to be here for you, no matter what you need. Even if it's just to sit here and talk about stuff. I'm gonna be here for you no matter what you need." As he started to talk about the family they'd have one day, she nodded gently. "Yeah. One day." She said, looking at him with a small smile. "You'll be the best dad and I know that any kids we have will have a really amazing childhood. That's all I want. I want them to be happy and I don't want you to have to worry about anything going wrong, you know? I don't want you to worry about anything happening or about them being happy. I just want you to not worry. Obviously, it's really far in the future, but in the grand scheme of things, it's really not that far away, you know? We've been on and off for so long and it's felt like no time at all. Years are going to feel like days."

Finn knew that Rachel was very protective over him just as he was to her. While he loved her for it, he also knew that it had the tendency to get her into trouble as well. He was pretty sure if she ended up anywhere near his dad and he acted the way he had that she wouldn't hesitate to follow through with everything she was saying. And he really didn't want his girlfriend going to jail for punching his dad in the face no matter how much he really would love to see her do that. "I know you're always here for me, baby. And I love you so much for that," he said softly as he looked into her eyes. As she spoke about him being an amazing dad, he smiled as he shifted his gaze down for a moment. Thinking about the future was scary and exciting all at the same time but now that they were on the same page he knew that it was more exciting than anything. "I won't have to worry about anything going wrong with you as their mom. You'll be such an amazing mother, Rach. You'll be super protective and so loving, they'll have the best childhood ever," he said softly. Finn nodded as she spoke, knowing that she was right. In the grand scheme of things, having a family really wasn't that far down the line. "We've known each other for so long now. I... I still don't even know which anniversary of ours that we should celebrate," he said with a laugh. "Even when we weren't together I still feel like we were, you know? Because you were the only one on my mind. Even way back when I was with Haley, you were still always on my mind." Finn knew that no one could compare to Rachel, it just wasn't possible. He smiled softly at her before he took her hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of her palm before he shifted his gaze to her wrist where his father had grabbed her. "I will never let anyone lay a hand on you like that again," he said softly, pressing a kiss to her wrist, trailing his lips along her smooth skin for a moment before he leaned in to kiss her once more. "You deserve to be treated like a queen and I hope that I always make you feel that way. I hope you always feel loved and beautiful and happy when you're with me."

Rachel always had doubts that she was going to be a bad mom. She had thought about it since she was a teenager and first getting serious with Finn. Obviously, he was a family guy. And she knew that back then, it would have been impossible for her to provide him with something like that. Still, she felt like it wasn't going to happen any time soon. She wanted to make him happy and down the line, she did want a family as well, but she was just a little nervous that she'd end up screwing it up. But like Finn said -- they were going to make sure their kids had the best childhood because they both had horrible ones in their past. As Finn took her hand and kissed the back of her palm, she took a deep breath in at his words. "I know." She whispered softly, looking at him. "It's okay, I promise." She said softly, leaning forward to meet him for a kiss. A small smile rose on her lips as he spoke again, nodding as she kept her gaze down. "You do, babe. I promise." She whispered softly before leaning forward to kiss him, a small smile rising on her lips. "I love you. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I mean that." She breathed out, looking into his eyes. "You're amazing to me and I- I feel like I don't thank you enough for everything you do for me." Of course, Finn didn't have to act the way he did -- especially in the past when she was horrible to him. But still, he always was nothing but perfect to her. "You don't even try to be perfect, and you are. You do everything right and I just don't know how you put absolutely no effort in and you're this amazing man that people would kill to have." Rachel smiled gently, taking in a deep breath. "Thank you, though. For everything. I mean it."

Finn didn't consider himself to be a violent person but when he saw someone be rough or grab any woman, especially Rachel, he found himself seeing red. He knew that if his dad had tried to touch her anymore than he did that they would be in a very different situation right now. As he kissed her softly, he smiled into the kiss, just enjoying the feeling of having her in his arms and being close to her. When she was with him, he knew she was safe and nothing relaxed him more than that. "I love you too, Rach. You're the best thing that ever happened to me too," he said softly. Her being in his life had truly changed everything and while not all of their memories were happy, he knew she played a big part in making him into the person he was. Because of her he had an easier time making friends and feeling relaxed, he had an easier time letting things go and just having fun. She made his life so much better and he knew that he would always love her for that. "Hey, you don't have to thank me for treating you the way you deserve to be treated. I love you and I always want you to feel that. It makes me happy that you do because I used to think that I would be really horrible at relationships. You make it easy," he told her as he ran his hand gently through her soft hair. "I hope you know how grateful I am for you, Rach. You honestly are the best thing that ever happened to me. You make me feel good about myself and... and no one was ever really able to do that until I met you." A content sigh escaped his lips as he looked into her eyes, relieved that they were both able to get their minds off of everything that had happened. He didn't want to think about the mess that was his parents. He just wanted to focus on the woman he was so incredibly in love with. "I think we do a pretty good job at getting each other's minds off of all the horrible shit that we have to deal with," he said softly as he moved to rest his hand on the curve of her waist, loving the feeling of just having her close to him.

Rachel knew that she'd always be amazed by the kind of love they shared. If they didn't love each other like they did, she didn't think that they'd be here again. She really didn't think that her and Finn would be trying their relationship again because most people would just give up. And with good reason. Her and Finn had a very rocky road before, and the fact that they were trying and really looking forward to the future made her very confident about things to come. Even getting married to him, which scared the shit out of her. So did kids, but she knew that Finn wanted it, and one day, she knew that she wanted all of that too. Just not now. "I want to make you feel good about yourself. I like that I get you out of your shell a little bit. I mean, look at you now compared to high school. Before, you'd be unsure about all of this. How to talk to me and how to touch me and you'd be stumbling over your words because you'd be so insecure and you'd be so unsure about how to be with me. But just look at us now, you know? You're not the same kid. You changed a lot of that on your own, too. And I'm proud of you. I love who you were then and I love you you are now, too." Rachel smiled as she felt his hand move to her waist, nodding at his words. "I know. We do an amazing job at that. And we know the very best ways to get our minds off of all of this shit," She murmured softly before she moved herself a little closer to him, bringing her chest flush against his as she moved to kiss him again, both of her arms moving to wrap lazily around his neck. "I love you, baby. And I really love getting our mind off of stuff," She said with a soft smirk against his lips. After the long day they had, Rachel knew that she just wanted any excuse to be close to him and just relax and forget everything that happened, and after the rough day that they had, she knew they both needed it.

#in slow motion i watch you fall

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