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specialagentsergio · 3 years

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all we can do is keep breathing || chapter two

summary: Spencer’s doing better, but recovery isn’t linear, and some scars run deeper than either of you knew.

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: angst (eventual happy ending)

content warnings: swearing, drug abuse & addiction, substance use disorder, ptsd, descriptions of panic attacks/ptsd episodes, recollection of past bullying, unhealthy coping mechanisms, yelling/fighting, negative feelings towards other team members, body image issues

a/n: i was so taken aback by the response to chapter one--i didn’t think anyone would even read it tbh. thank you all and thanks for being patient with my lack of an upload schedule. i'm so sorry the word count is massive again. you get tummy appreciation, though, because 1) we all love spencer’s tummy, and 2) i personally gained weight when i was in residential treatment and it can be a bit of a mindfuck lol.

a/n 2: repeated disclaimer that i'm not a doctor, psychologist, psychiatrist, etc., just a direct care staff, past rtc patient and trauma recovery enthusiast. the horse therapy is pretty much entirely based on my own personal experience from nearly a decade ago, so don’t expect it to be an accurate portrayal of equine-assisted psychotherapy.

word count: 7.3k

song: you will be found from dear evan hansen

fic masterlist || masterlist

He’s been looking forward to the start of equine therapy since he got a spot in the program. But instead of being excited the morning of, Spencer ends up crying for an hour straight.

The day started off fine. It wasn’t hard to get up with the horses to look forward to, and he was able to get an extra plate at breakfast, so he could keep the pancake syrup from touching the eggs and sausage. Art therapy was a few hours later. He’d started to actually enjoy the pottery project—the recreational therapist had brought him a box of disposable gloves to use so the feeling of drying clay on his hands was no longer a problem.

Everyone’s projects were coming out of the kiln today and the next step was painting them. He’d been planning out the design and colors he wanted to use since the project started and was excited to finally start applying it.

Then he dropped his item, it broke into pieces, and he burst into tears.

He’d fled the room on instinct alone and curled up in a corner of the hallway, pressing his knees to his forehead. He was upset about the pottery, and upset that he was so affected by it breaking. He felt stupid and silly for crying over it, which only made him cry harder.

He heard distant laughter and he clapped his hands over his ears. He was being laughed at again for being a crybaby. He didn’t want to be a crybaby. He wanted to stop crying, he just couldn’t. The goalpost was cold against the bare skin of his back, and his wrists were starting to burn from the ties.

I want to go home. Just let me go home, please, I’ll do anything. Let me go, let me go--

“Spencer, it’s okay. You’re safe here. Can you repeat after me? I’m safe here.”

Safe here. Safe here.

Art therapy was over by the time he came out of it.

He has lunch at his therapist’s office instead of with the group. Lara asks what his flashback had been to.

He picks at his food. “It happened a long time ago. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright. Can you tell me how it felt instead?”

Spencer isn’t really hungry, but bites into his sandwich to stall for time. She doesn’t rush him. Eventually, he asks, “Do you know what alexithymia means?”

“No words for feelings,” she replies.

He nods. “That’s all.”

Lara opens one of her desk drawers and pulls out a composition notebook, which she then hands to him.

“What’s this for?”

“I want you to start trying to notice your feelings and sensations throughout the day. Make some kind of note, even if you don’t exactly have the words to describe it.”

He sighs. “Why?”

“Just noticing what you feel can help you develop emotional regulation,” she explains. She’s always been honest with him about the why of what she wants him to try and do. “It’s going to help you stop ignoring what’s going on inside you.”

I don’t want to do that.

“I know you don’t.”

“I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” he blurts. “That either. I—god.” He quickly takes another bite of food before he can say more.

“It’s fine. I didn’t expect you to like it,” Lara says with a small smile. “I’m sure the thought of confronting what you’ve been suppressing and avoiding is scary. But getting better requires you to do a lot of scary things.”

Spencer wants to protest. Being strapped to a chair in a shed and dosed against your will is scary. Your mother being diagnosed with Alzheimer's is scary. Being sent to prison for a crime you didn’t commit is scary. Feeling things? That’s not scary.

Isn’t it?

He tries not to think on it too much.

Despite the unpleasant thoughts running through his mind, Spencer finds himself nodding off on the van ride to the horse ranch. His eyes unfocus, his blink rate slows… and then he jerks back awake at the sensation of his head falling forward.

A frustrated noise escapes the back of his throat. He’s sick of feeling tired all the time. He’s getting enough sleep in theory, but still finds himself drowsy at least once a day. It’s to the point that he’s regularly wearing his glasses instead of his contacts to keep his eyes from feeling quite so dry. He pushes them back up now as he tries to tune back in to his surroundings.

“… don’t get how seeing some horse is supposed to make me feel better.” That’s Aiden’s voice. He’s Spencer’s new roommate. He wasn’t happy when he found out he was getting a new one, having much preferred having the room to himself, but it’s been okay so far, mostly because they keep out of each other’s way. Aiden seems uninterested in making friends, and that suits Spencer just fine. Lara’s been encouraging him to talk to fellow patients instead of just the direct care staff, but he’s resisted it. The last time he befriended someone, they ended up--

Spencer’s fine with the two of them keeping to themselves.

Melanie, one of the staff accompanying them, is leaned over the back of the middle seat as she talks to Aiden. “Well, I couldn’t tell you why exactly, but I’ve seen this program help a lot of people in my time here,” she says. “Spencer?”

“What?”

“You’ve been reading a lot about horses, right?” At his nod, she continues, “What have you found out?”

“Equine-assisted psychotherapy lacks the rigorous scientific evidence to demonstrate if it provides benefits in mental health treatment. Horses have been used to aid in psychiatric treatment since the 1990’s, though,” he says. He intends to stop there, but can’t stop himself from continuing. “It doesn’t necessarily involve riding, but may include grooming, feeding, and ground exercises. The goal is to help the client in social, emotional, cognitive, and or behavioral ways.”

He can feel Aiden’s eyes on him and takes a breath before meeting them. He knows all too well that his infodumps aren’t always well received. He doesn’t want to be friends, but would prefer for his roommate to not view him with disdain or annoyance. But Aiden looks interested, and says as much--”that’s interesting.” He looks like he wants to say more, but doesn’t, and there’s silence between them for the remainder of the drive. It’s not uncomfortable, though.

When the van pulls into a parking spot and everyone starts to get out, Spencer begins to feel nervous. He’s read everything he could get his hands on, but as a relatively new therapy, there’s no standard program; it varies by facility, so he doesn’t know exactly what to expect. He’s been looking forward to this, but what if it turns out to be a bad fit for him? What if the people here don’t like him? What if the horses don’t like him?

He hangs at the back of their group of ten—six patients and two staff—as they’re led to a shaded area. They’re introduced to the program director and assistants, and are given an overview of what they’ll be doing over the next six weeks. They won’t be riding the horses, just doing groundwork (he’s not sure if he feels relieved or disappointed). Then he learns that intention of this specific program isn’t just for the horses to help the clients—the clients are to help the horses as well. The animals all have the gentle temperaments suited for therapy, but also have their own struggles. A lot of them were adopted out of poor situations.

They’re led to a circular corral next and spaced equidistantly around the edge. Spencer’s heart rate picks up as the horses are brought in—the animals will be picking their therapy partner, the director says. As they’re let off their leads a jolt of anxiety runs through his body, making him twitch slightly. This feels uncomfortably familiar to school P.E. when teams were picked. No one wanted him then. What’s gong to happen if none of the horses want him, either? He looks down at his shoes.

But just a few moments later, he hears his name, and looks up to see one of the horses approaching him. “Looks like you and Chance are our first pair,” the director is saying.

First?

Chance is almost entirely black, save for a spot of white between his eyes and above his nose. His size is a little intimidating, but his demeanor is gentle. One of the assistants comes up to Spencer and instructs him to hold out his hand so the horse can sniff it.

His hand trembles slightly as he lifts it. Warm breath hits his fingers as Chance sniffs at it. Then the horse presses his nose completely against his hand. The moistness would usually bother Spencer, but for some reason it doesn’t. Instead, a smile slowly spreads across his face. The assistant tells him he can pet Chance now. He runs his hand up and down the horse’s snout, and despite the slight coarseness of the hair, finds it soothing.

The horse shuffles closer when Spencer is given his lead to hold. A startled laugh escapes him when Chance presses his nose into his neck. He pats his head a few times, then takes a tiny step back. He’s thrilled that at least one of the horses likes him, but feels a little crowded by the large animal. To his surprise, Chance seems to understand, and takes a step back of his own.

He absently pats his horse as he watches the rest of the group pair up. He still can’t believe he was picked first.

The rest of their time with the horses is very simple. They’re taught how to lead them, and after practicing in the corral, they take the horses back to their paddocks. Spencer’s disappointed to say goodbye already, but understands the need to not overwhelm the horses or even themselves. “I’ll see you next week,” he finds himself whispering to Chance.

There’s ten minutes left in the session, and it’s spent with the director telling them more about each horses’ specific background. Chance was poorly treated by his previous owner, mostly kept locked up in a small barn and not properly cared for. He has many talents and abilities, the director says. He needs to learn that he didn’t deserve to be treated the way he was, and be told that he is brave.

Spencer rests his chin in his hand and stares out the window on the drive back to the treatment center. He knows from his reading that horses are emotionally intelligent creatures, but he’s still… well, amazed by how the horses all picked who was most similar to them out of the group instinctively.

He feels more understood by an animal he’s interacted with for twenty minutes than he has by a person for months.

Before bed that night, he chews on the stem of his pen cap, thinking over the events of his day. Slowly, in a manner that could almost be described as cautious, he picks up the empty composition book Lara gave him and opens it. His hand hovers over the blank page for a few moments, then he puts pen on paper and begins to write.

---

You made dinner reservations for his visit this Saturday. You’re getting ready for it when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Spencer calls from the living room.

You return to fixing your hair up. You’re not expecting anyone, so it’s probably just a package or a neighbor. But just a few moments later, you hear Spencer raise his voice.

“No! No, I don’t—don’t touch me, please.”

You’re only half dressed, but hurry out to the living room anyways. When you round the corner, you immediately see what the problem is: JJ has dropped by unexpectedly.

It’s not that Spencer doesn’t want to see his team. They just bring memories with them, and he had decided shortly after his birthday that he wasn’t ready to confront that yet.

He’s standing a little ways back from the door, staring at JJ while she looks back with hurt on her face. “Spence--” she starts before she sees you.

At Spencer’s side, you place a hand on his arm and he takes a step behind you. “JJ, what are you doing here?”

She struggles to keep her eyes off of him as she answers. “(Y/N), I’m sorry, I just—Will and I made cookies with the boys today and we had a lot of extra, so I just wanted to drop some off for you. I—I didn’t know Spence was here. I didn’t mean to--”

You hold up a hand to stop her. “It’s okay, JJ. You couldn’t have known. You were just trying to do something nice.”

She nods, relieved at your understanding. “Yeah. Yeah, I….” She blows out a breath, then holds out a plastic wrapped plate of cookies to you. You take it from her with a quiet thank you. Then she looks back to the man that’s essentially hiding behind you as best as he can, despite how tall he is. “Spence, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wouldn’t want me to touch you.”

There’s a tug on your clothing as he curls his fingers into the fabric on the small of your back. You tilt your head to look at him, but his gaze is on the floor. “You…” he glances up once, then looks back down. “You should ask next time,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” she replies, just as softly. “I will.”

You bite down on the inside of your cheeks to hold back a smile. Spencer often struggles to advocate for his needs, especially with his friends and colleagues, in fear of being a burden or more of a nuisance than he thinks others already perceive him as. He did it a lot with you when you first started dating. It took a lot of time and reassurance that yes, you really did want to know his wants and needs, for him to open up. Telling JJ to ask before touching him may seem small from the outside, but it’s a big deal for him.

After a rather awkward silence, JJ speaks again. “Well, um, I should get going. Just… let us know if you need anything, okay, Spence? We—the team, we’re all here for you.”

“That’s rich,” Spencer mutters behind you and you freeze. You recognize that edge to his voice. It’s usually accompanied by sharp words and remarks that he’ll regret later.

Please please please tell me JJ didn’t hear that.

“I’m sorry?”

Fuck.

“I hate to rush you out, JJ, but we have dinner reservations, so--” you try to interject but Spencer speaks over you.

“I’m just saying, why should I believe you’re here for me when you weren’t last time?”

JJ’s eyebrows come together. “I… don’t understand, I’ve always--”

“No, you haven’t!” It’s like Spencer can’t get the words out fast enough, the way he keeps interrupting before either of you can finish a sentence. This is clearly something that’s been weighing on him. You just wish he was unloading it onto his therapist rather than poor JJ, his best friend outside of you, who’s just trying to be nice. “Ten years ago I was shooting up in police station bathrooms and Emily is the only one who said a damn thing.”

His grip on your clothes tightens, forcing you to take a step back. You move the plate of cookies to one hand and reach back with the other, circling it around his wrist. “Spencer.”

Realization dawns on JJ’s face and she crosses her arms. “Spence, I couldn’t--”

“You couldn’t.” The little laugh he lets out derisive. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

You don’t know where all this is coming from or what he’s referring to, but JJ does, her expression hardening.

“You know what would have happened if the higher ups found out,” she says. “I was protecting your job. We all were.”

“You shouldn’t have!” he cries, emotions other than anger seeping into the words. “This damn job is one of the worst things that’s ever happened to me! I got anthrax poisoning, I still have issues with my knee from being shot. I nearly died from a shot in the neck, and let’s not forget, I was framed for murder by a psychopath I arrested, who then kidnapped my mother while I was in prison! Oh, and what else? Oh right, this job is the reason I’m a fucking addict in the first place!”

JJ’s clearly trying to hold back tears now, but one slips out and your heart aches for her. You close your eyes briefly and take a deep breath, then speak quietly but firmly. “Spencer, you need to leave the room.”

You can hear him breathing shakily behind you. “(Y/N)--”

“Now.” You squeeze his wrist and he finally lets go of your clothing. He takes a few steps away, stops, turns back and opens his mouth to say something, but at the look you give him, shuts it and continues on his way out.

A sniffle draws your attention back to JJ, who’s looking up at the ceiling and swiping at the tears sliding down. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I shouldn’t have come by without giving you a heads-up. I’ve just made things worse.”

“No, JJ, don’t be sorry. It--” There’s thumping noises from further back in the apartment so you step forward and shut the front door behind you. She has her arms wrapped around herself when you turn back.

“It’s not your fault,” you continue. “You were just trying to be nice. You’re a good friend to him. He’s just… everything is really raw for him right now, if that makes sense?”

She nods, wiping at her eyes again.

“It’s, uh, not an excuse, though,” you clarify. “That’s not what I’m trying to say. You didn’t do anything wrong. That was all him, so please don’t blame yourself.”

JJ is quiet for a bit, staring at the floor. Then she says, “I should get going.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” you agree quietly. Realizing you’re still holding the plate of cookies in one hand, you lift it slightly and add, “Thanks for these. And, um… I’m so sorry about that.”

She shakes her head and glances at the door. “Don’t be. Like you said, it was all him,” she murmurs.

You know she’s right, but you’re still barely able to stop yourself from apologizing again as she descends the stairs. You can’t help but feel like you should have done more, stopped him somehow, even though you don’t know how you could have. The way his behavior changed… it was like he wanted to get it all out, and when Spencer Reid wants to say something, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stop.

The apartment isn’t quiet when you walk back in. There’s the scraping and clatter of a desk drawer, followed by frantic footsteps and the thud of books falling off the shelves. You know what he’s doing, and you know he won’t find anything, so you just lock the front door and continue on to the kitchen to put the cookies away.

You lean on the counter and cover your face with your hands. It doesn’t matter if you mess up your hair or face, or anything, really, because you’re not making it to dinner anymore.

You stay like that for a while, eyes closed, trying to think of a place to even start with Spencer after all of that. When the sounds of him tearing through the apartment stop, you lift you head back up and promptly jump—he’s staring at you from the nearest doorway.

“Jesus, Spencer--”

“Where’s my stuff?” he asks, and the seriousness in his tone of voice makes your anxiety spike. You know exactly what he means by stuff.

“It’s gone. What did you think was gonna happen?”

“Yeah, but it’s…” he trails off and his expression puzzles you. It almost looks like he’s confused. “It’s all gone.”

Ah. “Yeah, well, I know you think you’re sneaky, but you’re very much the opposite when you’re not sober,” you reply. “Finding your hiding spots wasn’t hard.”

He drops his gaze to the floor, frowning. “I don’t like it when you move my things,” he says quietly.

“I don’t like it when you use,” you counter.

He visibly flinches, then his hand tightens on the door frame. “I’m not going to—to take it, I just want to hold it. Where’s my stuff?” he repeats.

“Holding it, right,” you sigh.

“It’s comforting,” he argues.

“Even if I believed that, it wouldn’t matter, Spencer. I threw it all out. There’s none here.”

The humming noise he makes is angry, and he rocks back and forth on his feet in an agitated manner. “You shouldn’t… I don’t….”

I don’t have the energy for this. It’s a thought you feel terrible about as soon as you have it, but it’s the truth. Lara had cautioned you before his first visit that he was going to be hypersensitive to disappointment and frustration until he learned how to cope with the feelings he’d been using the Dilaudid to block out. Unfortunately, the information, while useful, didn’t always make his emotional extremes easier to deal with.

You run a hand down your face. “Spencer…” you start. You’re not sure what to continue with, but you don’t have to—for whatever reason, that sets him off.

He tears his eyes away from the floor to glare at you. “Don’t—don’t touch my things ever again!” Then he turns and all but runs to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

You suck in a breath and drop your head to the counter. The marble is cool and you thump your forehead against it gently a few times, focusing on breathing in and out slowly to calm down. When you’re ready, you walk as quietly as you can to the bedroom door and press your ear against it to hear the unmistakable sound of Spencer sobbing into his pillow.

Part of you wants to go in and comfort him, but you suspect that you’d just make it worse right now since some of his frustration is directed at you. And truth be told, you’re frustrated with him, too. So you retreat to the living room, flopping down on the couch and pulling out your phone to call the restaurant to cancel your reservations. Doing so is more upsetting than you expected; a few tears of your own slide down your face after you hang up. Before you know it, you’re calling Tara.

“Hey, what’s up?” she asks you.

“I…” You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Spencer’s… we’re having a bad day. If you’re not busy, can I talk to you about it?”

“Of course,” is her gentle reply, and you pull yourself to your feet, moving to the farthest point away from the bedroom in the apartment so Spencer won’t overhear.

“He got angry when you told him you got rid of everything?” she guesses when you reach that part.

“Yeah. He told me that he doesn’t like it when I move his things. I already knew that; that’s why everything else is where he left it. I think he was mostly just caught off guard that I knew all his hiding places.”

“If he’s having a trauma response to seeing JJ, he’s not going to be thinking clearly, either,” Tara points out. “I wasn’t there, so I could be wrong, but from what you’ve said, it sounds like she was some sort of trigger for him.”

“That’s more than a fair assessment. It’s just… confusing,” you say. “He wasn’t like this with her when he first got home from prison. He actually spent a lot of time at JJ’s house before his relapse. He’d go over and hold Michael when he couldn’t sleep. Why is seeing his best friend suddenly such a bad thing?”

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t have to make sense to us. It only has to make sense to the traumatized part of the brain,” she explains. “He may not even know why himself.”

“Hmm.” You ponder it for a moment. “I think I’d find that interesting if I wasn’t living it.”

Tara laughs out loud at that. “Yeah, I’ve found that to be rather commonplace sentiment in the field of psychology.”

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling calmer. “Thanks for listening,” you say. “I feel better now.”

“Anytime, (Y/N).”

You exchange goodbyes, making plans to catch up properly over lunch next week. You hang up, then tiptoe back to the bedroom door. It’s quiet now; Spencer seems to have stopped crying. You knock softly. “Honey? Can I come in?”

When he doesn’t respond, you try the door handle. It’s unlocked, which is a good sign—he’s upset, but not upset enough to completely shut you out. You open the door just enough to look in.

Spencer’s on the bed as expected, huddled under his weighted blanket. His back is to the door and you see his shoulders shuddering in the little breaths that follow him crying. In your experience, he usually seeks out comfort before this stage, often having the breakdown itself in your arms or stumbling into them halfway through. This is a bit of uncharted territory. You know that after outbursts of negative emotions, he tends to need reassurance and touch from someone to help him decompress and feel better. You just don’t know if that’s going to hold true for this kind of reaction. A trauma response, Tara called it. You hope it will, because you don’t know what else to do.

“I’m going to come in now,” you tell him before taking a step inside. You leave the door open behind you so he won’t feel trapped, then slowly approach him, looking out for signs that he doesn’t want you near—tensing muscles, slight rocking, shaking his head—but he stays still.

Once you sit down on the edge of the bed you can see his face. His eyes are puffy and his cheeks are red and raw from wiping away tears. A few are still slipping out, sliding sideways down his face and dropping onto the wet patch on his pillowcase as he stares blankly at the wall across the room.

Hesitantly, you reach out and touch his arm as lightly as you can. He takes in a deep breath, but does nothing to suggest that he wants you to remove it. After a few moments to ensure that he’s okay with touch, you start running your hand up and down his back. He whimpers a little in response, closing his eyes and titling back into your touch.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

You don’t get a straightforward answer. He chews on his bottom lip for a bit before speaking in a scratchy voice. “Can you…?” he mumbles, lifting his head up slightly from the pillow, then dropping it back down. You don’t know what he’s asking for until you see some of his fingers poking out from under the blanket and the stroking motion they’re making.

You maneuver across the mattress to sit against the headboard, jostling him as little as you can, and he shifts to place his head in your lap. When you start carding your fingers through his hair, his eyes flutter closed and he lets out a little sigh.

“What’s going on?” you ask once the tension has faded and his body has settled fully into the mattress. He just shrugs and you press your lips together to hold back a sigh. You’re familiar with him going nonverbal and you know that he can’t help it, but it’s discouraging. One of the main things he’s been working on is being more open about his emotions. It’s been a welcome change to not have to pry things out of him. But he seems to have gone right back to old habits tonight and it’s… well, it’s disappointing.

The silence carries on for a long time as you continue to run your hands through his hair. He’s so still and relaxed that you think he may have fallen asleep until he takes in a deep, shuddering breath and clears his throat. “I… I want to go back,” he whispers.

“Back whe--” you start, then your heart drops as you realize what he means. “Oh.”

Your hands fall to your lap as he sits up and clambers out of bed, muttering, “gonna get changed.” He shuts the bathroom door behind him—for whatever reason, he’s not always comfortable with you seeing him changing or in the shower anymore—and you sit still for a few moments, processing what he just said. After over a month of listening to him express his desire to come home—begging you, even, in the beginning—you were unprepared to hear the opposite.

You shake your head slightly to try and clear it, then follow his lead, leaving the bed and changing out of your fancy clothes, trying not to think about how much you had been looking forward to wearing them to the restaurant.

Spencer remains quiet for the drive back to his treatment center, staring out the passenger side window, legs pulled into his chest. He mumbles a quick “bye” to you when you check him back in—no hug or kiss on the cheek like you’ve grown accustomed to. Instead he turns right back to the nurse and staff member running the process and asks, “Is Matt working tonight? I need to talk to him.”

At least he wants to talk to someone, you tell yourself as you leave, trying to soothe the sting caused by the fact that the someone isn’t you.

---

The next time you see him is six days later, on Friday evening. You’ve only talked once since Saturday, over the phone on Wednesday night, and it wasn’t a long call. He was upset about the horse therapy appointment being canceled that afternoon because of the weather—it had rained hard all day—and didn’t say much else. He ended the call before the ten minute mark, saying that he was tired and wanted to go lie down.

He also didn’t request a visit for the weekend—he either didn’t think his treatment team would approve it or he just didn’t want one. So you’re visiting him at the center today. You’ve brought dinner with you—you cooked one of his favorites yourself—but before you eat, you’re having an appointment with him and his therapist.

Spencer glances up only briefly when you enter the office, quickly looking back down. One of his knees is bouncing.

You sit down on the other side of the couch, looking between him and Lara in the chair across from you. “So, um, what’s going on?” you ask.

Spencer looks to Lara and she gives him an encouraging nod. He takes in a deep breath before speaking. “I… I wanted to talk to you about what ha—happened last week,” he says quietly, keeping his gaze on his lap.

You don’t know why exactly he wants to do it here, with his therapist, but wanting to talk about it at all is a good sign.. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“Right, um. Seeing… seeing JJ, it--” he stops abruptly, and his hands tremble slightly as he runs them down his thighs. “Sorry, doing… doing this is making me really anxious.”

“Take your time,” Lara says and you nod in agreement.

“Okay.” He runs his hands through his hair a few times before continuing. “Se—seeing her brought up emotions and, and memories I wasn’t ready to, um, confront. It… it really tri—triggered me.”

“Yeah, I could tell,” you say quietly.

Spencer grimaces at the words. He lifts his hand, puts it back down, then lifts it again and rubs at one of his eyes. “I…” he starts, then fixes his gaze on the floor and goes silent.

“(Y/N).” You tear your eyes from him and look at Lara. “Is there anything you’d like to say to Spencer about Saturday? Maybe what it was like for you?”

“Oh. Um.” You chew on your bottom lip for a moment. You’ve worried about how what you say could effect him since his relapse—one of your biggest fears is saying something that would drive him to use. But it’s stressful to keep up with, and with his therapist is probably the best place to start ridding yourself of your new habit of… well, of walking on eggshells around him.

“I think it would be good for him to know,” Lara says.

“Alright.” You lace your fingers together in your lap. “I guess it was just… startling to me. JJ’s your best friend and you’ve never acted that way to her. Or anyone, really, other than your father.”

Spencer stays silent, but flinches at the mention of his dad.

“Do you have anything to say to that?” Lara prompts. He shakes his head, so she looks back to you. “How did seeing Spencer like that make you feel?”

You take in a deep breath and let it out slowly; you’re a little scared to say, not wanting to make him feel worse. “It was… distressing. Especially when he got mad at me for getting rid of his Dilaudid. I know he doesn’t like having his things touched without permission but I don’t think it was reasonable to expect that I wouldn’t have done that.”

Lara nods. “That makes sense. But our feelings aren’t always logical.”

“Yeah, I understand. I guess I just wish he would have told me what was wrong instead of being silent--”

Spencer finally speaks up then, in protest. “I couldn’t help it!”

“I—I know that,” you argue back. “I just—I’m just telling you how I felt.”

He looks away, folding his arms and sinking further into the couch.

“Spencer,” Lara says gently. “You wanted to know how (Y/N) felt, remember? And we talked about how you were probably going to hear things you wouldn’t like.”

You blink, taken aback that this was his idea. And with that comes the realization of just how long it’s been since he’s asked how you’re feeling. Thinking back, you realize that the last time you had a conversation that wasn’t only focused on his feelings and well-being was the day you found him asleep and tied to his mother. This… it’s Spencer before prison.

You’re drawn out of your thoughts by him sighing and muttering, “Yeah, I remember.”

“Alright. Anything else?” Lara asks you.

There’s a lot else, you’re discovering, but you’re not sure you can unpack it all right now. “Maybe…” you say. “Maybe he could just tell me what I can do to help when he’s… triggered?”

“I don’t know,” he says dully, and when he catches the small frown on your face, insists, “I don’t.”

“Yet,” Lara adds.

He sighs again. “Yet,” he repeats.

“I know it’s frustrating,” she says. “Your solution to these kinds of feelings before was denial or using. A solution, not just a problem,” she emphasizes. “I want you both to try and think of it like that, and get comfortable with the fact that it’s going to take awhile to overcome those habits.”

A solution, not a problem. It’s… weird to think of his addiction that way, but you can try, so you give her a nod.

“Yeah, yeah,” Spencer mumbles. But behind the defensive body language, he just seems tired.

He seems to relax a little when the meeting wraps up and it’s only the two of you in one of the rooms used for visits. He remains quiet, but when you place the plate of food you dish him across the table from yours, he slides it back and sits in the chair beside you. “Sorry,” he whispers as soon as you take a bite of food.

“For what?” you ask once you’ve swallowed.

“For yelling at you on Saturday,” he says quietly. “I was upset but I shouldn’t have yelled.”

His leg is bouncing under the table; you put your hand on his knee to still it. “Apology accepted,” you say softly.

He shakes his head slightly. “You don’t have to. I was awful to you on Saturday.”

You frown at his skewed interpretation of events. “Spencer, you really weren’t. You yelled at me, yes, but other than that, you were fine.” And you’ve said much worse when you’ve been high.

“I ruined dinner. And don’t say it’s not a big deal,” he adds before you can speak. “You mentioned it every time we spoke in the week leading up to it. You were really excited about it, and I ruined it.”

Spencer’s read you like a book—that was exactly what you were going to say. “Yeah, I was really looking forward to it,” you admit. “And it sucked to have to cancel the reservations. But there will be other dinners, and it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

“But what if I did?” His voice is so quiet that you wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t right next to you.

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean…” he rocks slightly in his seat, which you immediately recognize as one of his self-soothing behaviors. You move your hand from his knee to his hair, lightly running your fingers through the curls covering the nape of his neck to try and help. His head tilts forward a little at your touch and after a brief silence, he continues. “I just mean that self-sabotage wouldn’t exactly be something new for me.”

“Oh.” You take your time considering it; he won’t believe you if you give in to your knee-jerk reaction to protest the negative feelings he harbors towards himself. But he grows agitated at your silence, rocking a bit harder and rubbing at his eye. You tug his hair lightly without really thinking about it in response.

“I’m just thinking,” you assure. “You deserve an honest, thought-out answer.”

After taking a deep breath, he nods. “Okay. I understand. Maybe you could just, uh… to help c--comfort…” He swallows and his voice drops back to a whisper. “Could you do that again?”

“Do what?”

“Um, pull… pull my hair. You did that a few moments ago. Please?”

You almost want to tease him—a year ago, you would have. But he’s been so timid and unsure when asking for any intimate touch other than cuddling since he got back from prison. You don’t want to discourage him from asking any more than he seems to be discouraging himself.

“Of course, baby,” you answer softly, and do just that. He closes his eyes and drops his head onto your shoulder. “As far as the self-sabotaging goes, you’re… not good at lying to me,” you muse. “And after six years with you, I feel like I’m pretty familiar with all the ways Spencer Reid self-sabotages. This never even crossed my mind until you brought it up, so I don’t see that as being what happened.”

You can’t tell if he believes you. A neutral “okay” is all you get from him, but at least he’s not outright disagreeing.

You gently pull his hair a few more times. “You should eat before it gets cold and we have to heat it up again.”

He takes the suggestion, picking his fork up, but you’ve never seen him less enthused about eating one of his favorite foods. He’s only cleared half of his plate when you’re done with all of yours.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

You can’t help but sigh at the habitual response, and consider your next words carefully. “Spencer, I don’t mean to be pushy, but you told me you were working on not dismissing people’s concern for you when they express it.”

“I am,” he mutters, but doesn’t say anything else, just continues to push his food around his plate aimlessly.

“Well, is something wrong with the food?” you ask. “Did I get the texture wrong, or--”

“No, no,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “It’s not the food. The food’s great. It’s… it’s me that’s the problem.”

Your eyebrows come together. “I don’t understand.”

“I…” He starts to blush. “I’m not eating it all because I think I need to lose some weight.”

“Don’t you dare,” you say immediately without thinking. He makes a startled noise at the same time you clap your hand over your mouth. You definitely don’t want him to lose weight, you just hadn’t meant for it to come out like that.

On the day he came home and agreed to treatment, you’d seen just how underweight he’d become as you helped him unbutton his shirt. The stark outline of his ribs against his skin had been scary, and you had no desire to see that again. It was a relief when he started to gain back what he’d lost in prison and afterwards. And you were happy to see him continue to put on even more than that.

You clear your throat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that. You were just so skinny when you got here. You look good like this.”

“I’ve never weighed this much before,” he says, and the distress in his tone makes you think that this is a fact that has been bothering him for a while. “Some of my clothes are getting too tight.”

“We can buy you new clothes.”

“But we don’t know how much longer the insurance will cover my stay here. Residential treatment is expensive. We don’t need to be spending extra money on clothes when I could just lose the weight instead and not need them.”

“Hey.” You put your hand on his cheek. “I don’t want you to worry about money. The insurance is covering it for now. If they stop, that’s a problem to deal with when we get there. Just focus on getting better.”

He looks away from you, down to his lap. “I should still lose some weight,” he says eventually.

“Have you medical staff told you that?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” he admits with a sigh.

“Then you’re not allowed to worry about it,” you say firmly. “Finish your dinner.”

Spencer hesitates, but picks his fork back up. The corners of his mouth turn up just slightly when he starts eating again, telling you that despite his fretting, he’s happy not to stop himself from eating as much as he wants.

He seems to be in a much better mood at the end of the evening than he was when you arrived, though a bit more subdued and quieter than normal. He also appears to be very tired. It’s only 7:30 but he keeps yawning. He denies dozing off with his head on your shoulder while you were talking after dinner, but you’re sure he did.

During your parting hug, he nestles his face into your neck just like he always does when you’re sleeping in bed together. “Try and get some good sleep tonight,” you encourage, smoothing your hands down his back. “And Spencer?”

He pulls back to look at you and you settle your hands lightly on his waist. “I meant it, you know.” You squeeze slightly. “When I said you look good like this.”

It takes him a few moments to catch onto what you’re implying; when he does, his eyebrows shoot up and his breath catches. “Oh. O—okay. I’ll, um…” he glances down shyly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You better.” You look over your shoulder as you leave, and the small smile he’s wearing prompts one of your own.

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

tell me what you thought here!

i'd like to put it out there that i don’t hate jj and i really hope it didn’t come across like that. i hadn’t even planned that scene; it just wrote itself. i promise it’ll be resolved before the end of this fic.

another shoutout to the book The Body Keeps the Score for helping immensely with the planning and writing of this. i literally have pages of notes from it.

you can also find irl pictures of spencer’s therapy horse here.

all we can do taglist: @thatsonezesty13 , @jhillio , @elitereid

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #angst #my fic #tw substances #one day i'll write something that's short

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lost-sunset-canine · 2 years

Text

Nichizora System Introduction

So our partner system ( @starsailorsystem ) made a master post thing about themselves, so i thought yeah lets do that too with some anxiety about it qwq -Dairiem

We are a system with 21 Alters currently (28.12.2021) , tho most prefer headmate of us as i have noticed

I will ask the others if they wish to participate with this post that we will work together on for the next days to weeks (?) from this point in time, since I do not want to force the others that aren't often fronting in front for just this

So yes this will be with anyones consent that is taking part here -Edward

also i might tell some relationships between our system and our partner system , i'll tell the system member of our system first then theirs : (I will remove relationships if they ask us/me to)

romantic/sexual relationships :

Dairiem x Shin Razor x Ame Asahi x Hinako Aziar x Vix Tenshi x Hoshi

Parent/child relations :

Tenshi x Ame Dairiem x Ame Asahi and Hinako x Zephyr , Warley , Mara and Nakumo Ame x Bernie and Ollie

Sibling relations :

Edward x Urai Zephyr and Nakumo x Mara and Warley

-Edward

irl - in real life hs - headspace / innerworld hj - half joke(ing) pl - platonic ap - appearance / looks like ig - i guess

☼ ✧ Nichizora's Headmates ✧ ☼ :

🦊🌆 Dairiem / Liam : Host, core, trauma holder II 16 irl , 130 hs || Trans-masc || he/him, fox/foxs , kit/kitsune , kitsune/kitsuni , floof/floofs , paw/paws , nom/noms (ik many pronouns qwp) || human irl, kitsune hs || likes : sunsets, clouds, sky, warm colors, warm things, soft things, paws, pats, hugs, art, fire, arson /hj (òwó) , omori (game)

so ye hi everyone ig qwq am a small fox boi qwq just be nice, you can if you want to hug me or pat if you want/need, but ask first and be gentle please, i do have to say i can be quite fragile

-Dairem

◼️ Edward : Main , Comforter , Companion , Protector , Caregiver , Gatekeeper , trauma holder || / || Male || he/him || void kitsune || likes : Liam (pl) , making Liam happy , Howls theme, Piano , Omori (game) , quark balls (food)

Hello, I am Edward, this platform is quite nice even if i do not talk much here if at all i still enjoy many posts when I and Liam look at them

-Edward

🥭🏵 Tenshi : Protector , Grounder , Caregiver || 873 , 27ap || Male || they/them , he/him || Kitsune , tengoku (light magic) || likes : mangos, cinnamon, tea, sweet adzuki, cooking, rice, massaging/massage, pottery

We greet anyone that may or may not see this, we hope that the posts that this system may make will delight you and sweeten your day

-Tenshi

💮 Asahi : main , caregiver , companion , protector || /// || male || he/him || first Kitsune || likes : family, cinnamon, boobs, children, babies, tofu, sweet adzuki, rice, sushi, onigiri, dumblings, fried salmon, ramen, clouds, sky, sunsets, sun, stars, tea, catnip tea, being with family, licking, taking care, protecting, swimming, cooking, taking walks

Hello papa very old no remember age but papa no tell anyway *chuckles*, if want safe place can always come to papa and hide and be yay *smiles

-Papa (asahi qwq -dairiem)

❄️ Winter : social protector ? || 20 || male || he/him || Kitsune (snowfox?artic fox?) ice magic stuff? || likes : cold, snow, ice, ice cubes, bunnies, pancakes, strawberries, orange juice

Moin, i hang out sometimes with some people ig, nice to meet you guys, always free to get bunnies pictures send, like em a bunch

-Winter

he loves bunnies so much i swear qwq

-Dairiem

🍢 Zephyr : companion , caregiver, protector || /// || male || he/him , they/them || Kitsune || likes : children, tofu, fried tofu, sweet adzuki, dandelions, clouds, sky, sunsets, sun, stars, tea, taking care, licking, being with children, licking children, taking care of children, protecting children

we much old and child of papa and mama *chuckles, much yay family, we love tofu much much *chuckles more, much like talk to children and take care too

-Zephyr

🐺 Razor : companion (?) || 26 || male || he/him || Wolf (were-wolf?) || likes : wolves, hunting, wood/forest/trees, swimming, scents, scented candles, belts, crystals and shiny rocks, night, moon and stars

uh hi ig ?

-Razor

💢 Aziar : Emotion carrier (made up role(?) , someone who "is" or triggers/is triggered by certain emotions or releases them)

|| 573 || male || he/him || Kitsune (kasai - fire magic) || likes : vix, vixs breath, vixs purr, slightyl sweet foods, takoyaki, vixs eyes, vixs nuzzles, vixs smell, vixs heart beat, when vix regresses (hes obsessed with vix qwp -dairiem)

tch. hi

-Aziar

🐝 Bernie : little , internal light (made up role (?) shows if in front general mental health of host and energy levels --> if often front = a lot of energy/good emotions in system/host , if front rarely = less energy/more depressive episodes and feeling less safe)

|| 6 || Bernie-Gender , Beegender , kawaifaun || bee/bees/bumble || kitsune (mori - forest magic) || likes : bees, bumble bees, pink, colors, Ollie, love, happiness, food, pancakes, floofy, jokes, smiles, hugs, warmth, his little bird friend, colors, rainbow, neckerchief, nature, outside, sky, animals, sunshine, sweet things

hehehihi me wike mani dhings owo uwu an me wike huggies muchiez muchiez and juice momma and owlie and yes hihihihihehehe uwu owo

-Bernie

While bee is a little we do allow bumble to be on this platform with supervision

-Edward

🐸 Ollie : little || 9 || Intersex , Non-binary || they/them , cloud/clouds || kitsune (mori - forest magic) || likes : frogs, bugs, snails, jewlery , turqoise

hihi me ollie, hewo ebyone :D

-ollie

Same as with Bernie, while they are a little we allow them on this platform with supervision

-Edward

🐾 Kit : co-host , little light || / || male || he/him || Kitsune (chikyu - earth magic) || likes : pats, energy, lickies , licking , nuzzles, running around, dandelions, flying, clouds, salmon, meat , nuggies, toast , other fox/kitsune cubs, playing , snuggles, cuddles

hes somewhat of a younger version of myself ig qwq , hes adorable and cant speak qwq

-Dairiem

✨ Tobias/Tobi , Seíjó : Caretaker , Companion || 74, ap24 || demi-solarian || he/him || Kitsune (seishin magic) || likes : cleaning, creativity, making clothes/stuffies , cooking , making books, making shoes , sculpting , making candles , old school stuff , 80' , energy drinks , eggs , neon colors , colorful stuff

howdy ya'll, I'm Tobi ya local friend if you want me to be haha, anyways see you all around, duces

-Tobi

So these are our members comfortable and excited to share thier info, others might still reblog things etc. tho they dont want to share themselves here as of now, thank you for respecting that

you are always free to ask us things regarding our system etc or other fun things, jokes, or other posts we might have made or anything random at all

please remind yourselves to be respectful, nice and gently as much as you can with your words to any of us -Edward

✨Welcome to our blog✨

#plural #system #actually dissociative #actually did #master post #introduction #welcome to our blog #did/osdd

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luvknow · 4 years

Text

parasitic | bang chan

genre: bang chan x fem!reader | college au ; roommates au ; enemies-to-lovers ; alcohol mention summary: your roommate is going abroad for the semester and now you’re forced to share your apartment with bang chan, who you basically lived with for the past semester except he didn’t pay rent, he ate all of your food, and crashed on your couch after a long night out. you were going to do everything in your power to avoid him until your roommate comes back. that doesn’t work out so well. wc: 11.8k a/n: omg a month late, but merry christmas to @channiechanchan!! did you know it was me?? LMAO I’M SO SORRY LKJDSLKFJ IT’S ALSO NOT EVEN XMAS RELATED BUT....... I HOPE IT WAS WORTH THE WAIT, ILY SLKJDSL

The sun rays peeked through the gaps of the curtains letting you know that a beautiful Sunday was upon you. You would spend the morning making breakfast for you and your roommate, clean your room of all the bad vibes, knock out some homework, and light an overpriced candle to conclude a stress-free day.

A long morning stretch in bed was the start to your day, and you had the widest smile on your lips upon exiting your room as if there was nothing that could ruin your energy. That dropped quickly once you were greeted with a loud, snoring, almost-naked man face down and passed out on your couch.

“Sorry about him,” roomie Yeri said out of habit while practically crawling out of her room. “Again.”

She looked like a hot mess, with her hair frazzled in all directions and last night’s make-up still smeared around her eyes. Her timing was impeccable - it was like she could sense your annoyance through her walls.

“Why?” you whined childishly. This had to be the tenth weekend by now!

“You know why! Lucas had his birthday party last night, remember? Which you were invited to but totally flaked last minute.”

“I have an exam this week.”

“We have an exam this week and it’s not until Thursday!”

“So? I like to be prepared!”

“Can you two shut up?” the bane of your existence interrupted. The newly brunette (who had dyed his hair in your living room, thanks to Yeri) ran a hand through his wild hair, hoping it’d alleviate some of the pain from his hangover. “I have a pounding headache.”

“And whose fault is that?” you scolded bitterly before yanking your blanket off of him. The poor man below you shriveled up and buried his musty legs under your beautiful couch pillows for some sense of warmth. “Not like you pay rent here for you to have the right to complain, or anything.”

“Lighten up, buttercup. You’re so uptight.”

“Gotta do my job around here and exterminate the parasites.”

“Suck my dick.”

“Too many STDs.”

Yeri chucked a pillow each at the both of you so you’d shut up and avoid waking up any grumpy neighbors. “Please, for the love of God, can you guys chill out for once so we can have a relaxing Sunday together?”

“Together?” you and Chan groaned simultaneously.

Yeri was not having it and shot a glare like an angry mother, to which you and Chan mumbled some sort of noise of confirmation and went about your separate ways. You inhabited the kitchen and Chan dragged himself to wash away the sticky shame and Hennessey in the shower. Yeri hopped over to help you make pancakes as if her two best friends weren’t just itching to pull each other’s hair out. She liked to think of herself as the glue of the group, like the quirky friend in the middle who was delusion to the tension in between. Neither of you had the heart to ruin her sitcom fantasy.

“Morning ~” she sang cutely.

“I hate him.”

“He’s not that bad!”

“You’ve been saying that the entire fall semester, but almost every weekend of mine has been ruined by his presence!”

Yeri winced and took a step back as she watched you vigorously mix the pancake batter faster than an electronic stand mixer. Another step back was taken while you violently dumped in the blueberries. Cooking and baking was one of your favorite hobbies and she knew you could be quite passionate about it, but she never saw you angry-cook before. It was a scary site to see, as if you being angry wasn’t scary enough.

“He’s only the way he is because you never gave him a chance.”

“What does that even mean?”

“He’s the type of person who likes to be liked, you know?”

“So? Don’t we all?”

“Of course, but it’s different with people like him. When those types of people meet someone who doesn’t like them, they can get a little… How do I say this? Defense mechanism-y?”

“Wouldn’t you think that would motivate him to, I don’t know, be nice to me and not inhabit my space and eat my food every weekend? Perhaps he’d kiss my ass a little?”

“Like I said, defense mechanism-y…”

“More like melodramatic.”

No matter how Yeri tried to explain to you how Chan was ‘different’, you weren’t buying it nor did you care to argue any longer. Why should you have to like him just because he was your best friend’s other best friend? This wasn’t some algebra problem that could be easily solved by the transitive property - this was a matter of respecting each others’ personal spaces and each other in general, and Chan had been the one to cross both of those lines first, that dick. While Yeri lectured like your math professor, you mindlessly hummed here and there pretending to understand, just as you would in actual math class.

The bathroom door opening prompted you and Yeri to shut up immediately. Then, a moist Chan walked out of the steam with nothing but a familiar lavender towel wrapped around his disgustingly chiseled waist.

“Is that my towel!?” you shrieked in fear.

“Yeah. Hope that’s ok with you!” The fake honey sweetness in his tone made your skin crawl like there were bees under the dermis. “By the way, you’re out of shampoo. I love this scent! What is it, tea tree and mint?”

Yeri had to hold you back from hitting him with a hot spatula and Chan managed to escape back into the bathroom with a change of clothes that he kept here ‘for emergencies’, of course. They hung on the open clothes rack in the living room that was meant to show off yours and Yeri’s tasteful jackets, but the aesthetic was ruined early fall and even your jackets began to smell of Chan’s sophisticated cologne.

“I’m gonna kill him in his sleep,” you seethed.

Yeri patted your head like you were an angry kitten. “Killing the captain of the basketball team isn’t exactly kosher, love.”

“I’ll show you kosher.”

“Can’t keep on threatening me, babe,” Chan tisked while throwing on a t-shirt upon entering the A and B conversation.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I’m just trying to make our friendship better. You know, since we’ll be roommates soon.”

Excuse me, what? “What are you talking about…”

“Oh, you don’t know?” a sly Chan smirked.

When you turned to interrogate Yeri, she quickly stopped the sign language that clearly meant ‘shut your GODDAMN MOUTH, Christopher’ and gave you that sweet, innocent smile that let her get away with practically anything because who could say no to her rosy cheeks and rainbow-shaped eyes?

“Yeri, what is he talking about…?” you asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, about that… I got accepted into the study abroad program!”

“That’s amazing and I am very proud of you and I love you, but what does this cockroach mean when he says we’ll be roommates soon!?”

“Hey!” he pouted.

“Oh, shut it!”

“Ah, well, I figured to lessen the burden of paying double the rent, I thought it’d, you know, take it upon myself to save you the stress of finding a subletter and Chan was the only one available…”

“Really? Of the entire cheerleading team, the pottery club, the damn pilates and cycling club, hell even the other players on the basketball team, Chan was the only one free to sublet? The only one?”

“Um... yes?”

“You know, I don’t really consent to this -”

“Please, _____, it will only be for the semester, I promise! I leave next week and I can’t take much with me, and Chan is the only person I trust to stay in my room and not ruin anything and steal my underwear!”

“How can you say that when he’s probably going to bring girls home and do them on your bed!?”

“I would never do that!” Chan interjected.

“Yeah, ok.”

“No, really! Why would I ruin her bed when I can just ruin yours while you’re gone?”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Christopher -!”

“See!” Yeri brought the two of you into a esophagus-crushing headlock so you two would shut up. “You two are already getting along so well!!”

Chan managed to slip away and steal you from Yeri, giving you a rough knuckle sandwich. “We’ll get along swimmingly, Yer-bear, I promise. Isn’t that right, _____?”

Yeri couldn’t help but look at you both with sparkly eyes, thinking that yes, maybe there’s a chance that a beautiful friendship could blossom from this! Jabbing an elbow to his ribs with a fake smile of your own, you wordless agree with a nod.

As long as Chan stayed in his room and you stayed in yours, maybe there wouldn’t be much to worry about, right?

The first week with Chan was exactly how you expected it - seeing his bare ass because he never closed the bathroom door, stealing your snacks, taking up the living room space, and blasting his loud soundcloud music that you could hear through your paper-thin walls. Still, even through all the frustration and the annoyance, you thought it would be best if you two just lived your lives separately and didn’t bother making nice with each other. Rather than fighting and yelling, ignoring each other for the sake of everyone’s sanity was for the best.

What pushed you to the edge was when he took the last pack of fruit snacks you were really looking forward to after a long week of classes.

“Oh, come on!” you groaned into the cupboard. “Chan!”

“Yes, darling?” he called from his - Yeri’s - bedroom, to which you stomped over to confront him. Seeing a grown man on Yeri’s white desk on a pink gaming chair playing some PC game was truly a sight to see.

“Did you eat the last of my fruit snacks!?”

The sly boy swiveled the desk chair to face you. “Ooh, was that the last one? I swear there was one left…”

“Come on, dude!”

“I’m sorry, ok, it’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal! That’s not cool!”

“No, what’s not cool is that you’ve been avoiding me all week.”

You were taken aback by his bold, although correct, assumption. You really didn’t expect him to call you out on this so early. “I… have not…!”

“You’re such a liar!” He pointed accusingly. Although you seemed heated in the argument, Chan was grinning because of course he was right, that dick.

“You don’t think I have anything better to do, like do my homework or-or hang out with friends outside of this apartment?”

“That’s not what I mean. I mean every time you come home and see me in the living room, you go straight to your room.”

“That’s normal!”

“Ah yes, but then you wait until I go into my room -”

“Yeri’s room.”

“- to cook dinner or grab a snack.”

“That’s just a coincidence -”

“How about the opposite, when I come home and you’re chilling in the living room and then you go to your room and shut the door? No ‘hi, how was your day’, or anything.”

“Well -”

“Or how about the mornings, when you’re sitting at the kitchen table relaxing and drinking something warm and sweet-smelling with a tired smile on your face because this is the only time in your day where you get to truly relax, but the second I leave my room to go to the bathroom or grab some water, you chug whatever’s barely boiling in your cup, dump it in the sink, and head out.”

“... I’m that obvious, huh?”

“Wow, look at that smug look on your face,” he pointed again. You didn’t even feel that proud smile on your lips. But Chan didn’t think it was amusing. His lips formed a frown, like he was insulted or even hurt at how cold you could be towards him. “What have I done to make you hate me this much?”

Your eyes bulged incredulously. “Let’s go down memory lane, shall we? Almost every weekend of the fall semester you; crashed on our couch, ate all of our ramen and eggs and sriraicha the morning after to recover from your massive hangover, used our laundry detergent, and used our bath products just to name a few! All without a simple thank you or even asking beforehand!”

Chan couldn’t deny that yes, maybe he’d been a little, um, unceremonious with his intrusion on your life, but come on, everyone deserves a second chance! The very prideful man in front of you rolled Yeri’s pink chair to the threshold only to clasp your hands together in his and now you were sweating.

“Ok, I’ll admit that I was a terrible guest this past semester.” Does an apology count if the guilty party rolls his eyes? “So, out of the goodness of my heart, I am very, very sorry.”

“My ass.”

“What!? Does this not look sincere to you?” he asked, pointing to his fake pouty face.

“Ok, I’m leaving.”

“No no no, c’mon!” Chan whined as he chased you into the living room. He grabbed your trailing hand to stop you. “Look, I’m truly sorry that I sometimes use your things -”

“Always use my things.”

“Most of the time use your things. I am sorry, really. Please believe me, ok? Aren’t you tired of avoiding me all the time?”

A tired sigh escaped you because you were absolutely exhausted from it. “I accept your semi-sincere apology. But why, for the love of God, why don’t you ever use Yeri’s things!? Why mine? She’s the one that’s your friend!”

“Honestly? I wanted to get your attention.”

“Oh, my God, what are you, five?”

“Hey, you’re the one who ignored me like a rude hostess from the get-go! You never gave me a chance!”

“My first impression of you was all I needed to not give you one.”

“I couldn’t have been that bad.”

“You puked in my backpack with some of my textbooks in it and poor Yeri had to clean up your mess!”

“Oh yeah, I remember that… That was on Sunwoo’s birthday.” You tried walking away again, but Chan’s grip was too strong. “Ok, fine, I’ll admit my first impression was horrendous, but you never let me redeem myself after that, so I kept annoying you so you’d confront me about it! That’s not fair that you judged me so quickly!”

“Yeah, and look how annoying me turned out! It went from my first impression to my thousandth impression.”

“I mean, it eventually worked, right?”

Another tired sigh. “Chan, is there a purpose to this?”

“Yes. I want to start over.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Start over? Like, erase all the shit that happened between us?”

“Exactly. A clean slate. Clean plates, I’ll even do your dishes tonight.”

You did hate doing the dishes… And you were so tired of stressing out over avoiding him, even if it had only been a week. After a long, painful pause, you held out your hand for him to shake. “Fine, a clean slate it is.”

A prideful and grinning roommate gladly shook your hand. “I pledge to not be an asshole anymore.”

“And I promise not to have a stick up my ass.”

“Wow, look how far we’ve come, huh? Cheers to a new friendship?”

“After you do my dishes.”

“... Fair enough.”

To commemorate this new and fresh friendship, you joined Chan in the kitchen. You didn’t do anything as he hand-washed your handmade dishes made in pottery class, but in return for eating your last fruit snack pack, he offered you some cookies he’d been hiding to which you gladly obliged. It was a peaceful silence in the kitchen other than the clinking of dishes and running water that offered some white noise while you read one of your books (after Chan called you a nerd). This had to be the most stress-free thirty minutes of your life.

“So,” your new ‘friend’, if you’d generously call him, began after finishing the dishes. He took a seat next to you and grabbed a cookie of his own. “Now that we’re cool and all, I would like to formally invite you to our basketball game tomorrow.”

"First of all, we're not totally cool just yet. Think of this as like a trial. Gotta pay your premium subscription fees before getting the premium benefits.”

“Yeah, yeah, so do you wanna go or not?"

"Hm, a basketball game? Like you're playing in it?"

"As the captain, I sure hope so."

You thought about it for a second - what terrible things could possibly come about if you went to one of Chan's basketball games? Well, it's set in a crowded and sweaty arena, whose crowd and players are also sweaty, it was loud, the food and drinks were expensive, and you literally could not care less about basketball. But, out of the goodness of your heart, which was now willing to give people a second chance for some reason, maybe you could tolerate sitting through a quarter or two.

"Sure, I'll go."

"Really? I wasn't expecting that."

"Then why'd you bother asking?"

"I'm tryna be homies, and that's what homies do! Invite homies to their basketball games."

"Please don't call me homie."

"Ok, home skillet."

"I'm gonna be honest, I don't know anything about basketball."

"Like, at all?"

"I know the cool far shots are worth like three points, right?"

"Oh, darling, you have a lot to learn. Here, lemme do a spark notes run down."

Professor Chan, PhD in sports and partying, took however many hours to explain. You lost track after two. At the end of the night, all of the cookies and milk were gone and you both went to bed at two in the morning.

"You, at a basketball game!?" Yeri snorted from the other side of the world. "And you and Chan being civilized!? Lord, how long have I been gone?"

"I have many regrets…"

"Don't say that! I think it's cute that you guys are finally getting along. Who would've thought that locking you two in the same apartment for one week was all that it took?"

"It might have been sooner if he'd just apologized right away instead of stealing all of my stuff to get my attention."

"Yup, sounds like Christopher."

"So you're coming back soon, right…?"

"If soon means a couple of months, yes."

"Yeri ~!" you whined, hopelessly missing your Sunday night partner watching crime documentaries.

"Chill, you big baby, just hang out with Chan if you're so lonely."

"Ugh, gross." Ironically enough, you stepped on a freshly-spat wad of gum upon entering the half-filled gymnasium.

"But not too often cuz, you know, you might fall in love ~"

You hoped no one saw the way your face twisted in disgust. "Are you delusional!?"

"Or even worse, you two might get drunk and make out and then fu -"

"OH-KAY, bye, Yer-bear love you!" You hung up immediately, traumatized at the thought she planted in your head. You hated how your face heated up so brightly. Don’t sweat it, _____! There’s no way that something like that could blossom from something that was nothing!

"Hey, you actually made it -" Chan had burst into your bubble without a warning, causing you to jump and drop your phone. After wiping off another fresh glob of gum from your phone screen this time, you bucked up the courage to stand face-to-face with a confused Chan wearing his basketball uniform. "Jeez, you good? You're all blushy. Ah, you saw Jaehyun's nudes, didn't you?"

"No, idiot! You just startled me, although I should be used to you invading my space by now."

“Ha ha. Stop being weird and take a seat. We’re still warming up, but hopefully we’ll start soon.”

“Uh, is there like, designated seating, or?”

Chan’s dimply smile accompanied a rough hair ruffle. “How cute, you’ve never been to a game before, huh?”

“I would rather die than willingly pay to go here on my leisure.”

A strong, sweaty arm wrapped around your shoulders. “Sit right over there,” he said, pointing to a single spot in the middle of the one hundred level that allowed for the best view of the entire court. “You’ll see me in action the whole time.”

“Next to the dude eating a chili dog and the chick with a cut-out of Woojin’s face?”

“The superfan section truly is not of this world.”

“If I came all the way here just to watch you lose, I’m gonna be pissed.”

“Don’t worry, baby, we never lose!”

The coach called Chan back to warm up some more which left you no choice but to enter the germ-infested purgatory and sit in between the superfans. Glancing at the other team, it was clear that they had the intimidation factor of being the taller and bigger players, so you weren’t sure how this was going to turn out. But your team, although smaller, had an enormous amount of unwavering energy. Perhaps it was because they were playing at home and had the entire half of this court filled to the brim cheering their names.

Chan was busy next to the couch, watching the form of his teammates as they were shooting three pointers. There was no doubt to anyone, even if no one had ever seen him before, that he was the captain. Who knew the barf-filled, void for a stomach, almost always naked asshole had the mindset of a lion? Every now and again, he’d pull one of his teammates to the side, probably a newbie to the varsity team, and help him with his form or give pointers or remind him of what play they were going to execute once the buzzer rang.

At some point, you realized you were watching him for far too long because he caught you right where he placed you. By the smirk on his lips, you’ll never hear the end of it if you see each other back at the apartment, and you would have looked away almost immediately if he hadn’t grabbed a ball not a second later. What was he doing?

Chan dribbled the ball to the free throw line (at least you think that’s what it’s called). He looked at you again, but this time he was pointing, like he was challenging you. Every pair of eyes in the gymnasium managed to pinpoint his target to you and if he thought you were blushy before, he should really see you up close now. After the very dramatic scene, Chan focused on dribbling the ball a few times which brought everyone’s attention back to him, thankfully. He dribbled a bit more, stopped to set up his shot, followed through and swoosh, there it went, right into the basket like a mathematician's perfect parabola.

“That was for you,” he mouthed silently with a sense of tease dripping from every word.

Normally, you might have flicked him off, but who were you to ruin the vibe just before the game started? Out of the goodness of your heart, you lightly clapped at his performance like this was the opera.

And so the game began! Mingyu, since he was the tallest member, did that thing where they toss the ball up in the air and they try to get it on their side, and since he was like 6’5”, it was easy for Chan’s team to start with the ball. There was a lot of back and forth head movements and eye scanning and you felt like your brain was being shaken up. To be honest, before you stepped into the stadium, you thought that none of this was going to excite you in the least. The idea of sweaty boys running around with a ball was completely barbaric, didn’t you think? But when someone, especially Chan, shot the ball or blocked it or did some weird dancey footwork, you gasped and cheered with the rest of the gym, the spirit of the game blooming in your soul much to your resistance.

The game ended almost too quickly and thankfully your team won. All of the superfans and the cheerleaders ran towards the team, congratulating them with cheers and hugs and mounting their beloved captain on their shoulders. Chan had his bright and dimply smile you’ve been seeing too often this week. You considered waiting until the crowd died down so you could congratulate him right then, but being the captain meant he was the center of everyone’s attention, not just yours. You shrugged off the impatience and headed for home. You could always congratulate him tomorrow, so long as he hasn’t puked anywhere.

Just before exiting the gym, you heard your name being called.

“_____, wait!” Chan yelled, sprinting to you as soon as his people made a walkway.

“I guess a congratulations is in order,” you said. “Congrats on winning. You looked super cool out there.”

“Hold on, can you say that one more time?” he teased, whipping out his phone to record you.

“Congrats, asshole!” you greeted the camera with double birdies.

“Thank you, m’lady. Where are you going now -”

“Channie!” a cute voice cried. Channie?

“Miyeonie!” he parroted back at the pretty cheerleader.

“Are you coming with us to Mingyu’s or what?”

You almost forgot it was the weekend already. It was time for drunk Chan shenanigans to ensue and that meant locking yourself up in your room and hiding the newly-bought fruit snacks.

“Oh, uh…”

Chan looked back at you like he was about to ditch his little sibling who had asked to play with him. Before any embarrassing pity invites were thrown out, you quickly bid your farewell.

“I’ll see you later, Channie ~” you waved off playfully.

“_____, hold on,” he said in urgency. Oh no, please don’t do what you think he’s doing… “Uh, I think I’m going to skip out on tonight, Miyeon.”

Both of you looked at him like he had three heads and two tails. Miyeon’s the only one brave enough to speak up on it. “Party Boy Channie is ditching us tonight? Why?”

“I’m super tired.” You’re full of shit, Chan! Why are you ruining my quiet night in!? “I’ll catch you guys next week, though.”

“Fine. Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Ok ~” She then quickly kissed him on his lips and he welcomed it fully like they’ve been doing that for some time now. Could it be that Party Boy Channie has finally settled down, despite all of his sloppy stories he used to slur about every weekend? How was it that he, of all scumbags, was able to have a significant other and you couldn’t even get a tinder date! “I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t get too wild tonight.”

“No promises!”

Chan sighed helplessly and turned to face a disgusted? Shocked? No, a very uncomfortable you who had watched a corny teen drama movie unfold right in your face.

“Sorry about that,” he said sincerely for once.

“Oh please, I absolutely love watching true love express itself right in front of me, Channie.”

He rolled his eyes. “First of all, it’s not love.”

“Really? You’re telling me kissing pretty cheerleaders isn’t your love language?”

“Not when they cling to me like mothballs.”

“You’re so cruel, Channie.”

“Stop calling me that,” he warned. “Secondly, what are we doing tonight?”

“We? I don’t know who this we is, but I’m going home.”

“Aw, c’mon, really? I just ditched a Kim Mingyu party and perhaps some ass for some quality roommate bonding time!”

“I did not ask you to do that.”

“Don’t you wanna go out to eat or something? I’ll even pay for you.”

“No, because there’s food at home.”

“There isn’t food at home, you liar!”

“Well ok, not yet, I still have to go to the market first and then I’ll cook.”

“Oh?” You can cook? He certainly didn’t know that. “You’re cooking us dinner?”

“I’m cooking me dinner.” Chan folded his hands and gave you a poor excuse for puppy eyes. But he did just win the game, and you bet doing all that sporty stuff made him starving. “But I guess I can make you a plate... I guess you and I can… eat together…”

“Don’t sound too excited.”

“I’m clearly holding back my excitement.”

Usually in movies or tv, they have the head chefs of famous local restaurants come to the markets between four and five in the morning. The amateur chefs like yourself prefer to pick off what was left for much cheaper at night time. It’s not that the stuff left over was any bad, it was just the important people managed to pick out all the perfect prawns and symmetrical vegetables and what have you. It was much less stressful in the evenings anyways, when everyone was already home cooking and you were left to wander as you pleased before the vendors packed up for the day.

“Do you come here all the time to grocery shop?” a freshly-washed Chan asked beside you. When he went grocery shopping, as long as the produce didn’t have any bruises and the meat was red, that’s all he needed. He never inspected the peaches for its plumpness or asked what time the fish was caught today, unlike you, though now and again he’ll slap a watermelon to test its juiciness.

“Goodness, no, am I made of money?”

“How expensive can this place be, they’re not even in a store.”

“Oh, Chan the naivete. Think of the most expensive piece of produce you’ve ever bought. It’s probably organic, right? Free of pesticides and the like?”

“I think it was an avocado.”

“Right, completely ridiculous that you’re paying $2.50 per avocado. The avocadoes here? Double that.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I really wish I was. Those are the morning price avocadoes though. Nighttime shoppers like us are lucky to snag them for $3.50.”

“Why bother paying so much when you can go to the local store across the street from your house?”

“Even though I can get much more for the price I’m paying here,” you paused and handed Chan the brightest and quite possibly the smallest strawberry he’d ever seen. “You can taste the difference.”

Snipping off the green stem and leaves, the clueless boy popped the berry in his mouth and you watch the flavor brighten his eyes.

“Quality over quantity,” you bragged.

The rest of your time there, you had to stop Chan from eating a single grape from every little basket at every single vendor.

“You are a child.”

“Baby me, baby.”

Coming back to the apartment with your’s and Chan’s arms full of groceries, anxiousness rushed in the second you stepped beyond the threshold. It occurred to you that you’ve never actually cooked for anyone before besides Yeri. This will be the second time you’ll see someone’s first reaction to your cooking, and it’ll be from your worst enemy.

“Need me to sous chef, head chef?” he asked while unpacking.

“Actually, that would help me a lot. Could you wash the vegetables?”

“Sure. While we’re at it, can I get your opinion on something?”

You raised your brow in confusion. “Do I have the knowledge for it?”

“You have ears, so yes.”

From that point moving forward, you decided not to question Chan because he was going to do whatever he wanted anyways. As you prepped the kitchen, you ignored the loud rustling in the living room with the occasional ‘ow, fuck’ following a stubbed toe. Out of curiosity and right before yelling at him to hurry up, Chan had finally pressed the play button and an unfamiliar song played through his massive speakers that he brought outside.

“Is this your new song?” you asked.

He did the ‘hand-sexily-but-also-shyly-running-through-my-hair’ thing before answering. “Yeah, and I’m not sure if I like it that much. The guys say it sounds good, but they’re my homies so they have to say that, y’know?”

“At least you know I won’t bullshit you.”

“Be gentle at least, please.”

“I will once you help me with dinner finally.”

“Right, right.”

Of course one song didn’t cover the entirety of the dinner preparation. After the one, which you honest to God liked a lot (“Stop lying.” “I’m not! You asked me to be honest, dick!”), Chan shyly but happily showed you more of his work. Some of it was already posted to his Soundcloud and some weren’t uploaded because he either hated them or he was stuck and left unfinished.

“Like, how is it possible that I can’t finish a project whose finished product is less than three minutes long!?” By now, Chan gave up trying to help after he cut his finger several times and sat at the table munching on his expensive basket of berries as he explained his creative block to you as if you were his therapist. “It makes me seem lazy, doesn’t it?”

“People hit creative walls all the time,” you reassured. “Don’t get yourself down about it.”

“Have you ever even hit a wall before?” he challenged.

“I do in the kitchen all the time, you ass.”

“How is that even possible? What walls can you even hit in the kitchen?”

“The difference between baking and cooking is that baking has less room for error, but tons of room for visual creativity, which is why I think baking is much harder. Cooking measurements for a meal, on the other hand, are meant to be adjusted with freedom which is nice, but how many times can someone change the presentation of a bowl of rice, meat, and vegetables?”

A bowl of said food was placed in front of a drooling Chan who had to sit through the tortuous cooking process smelling the aromatics and satiate his rumbling tummy with sour fruit. He hadn’t even taken a bite yet and his eyes were already sparkling with anticipation. It was reactions like his that made you the most embarrassed because what if he tasted it and hated it!?

“Whoa, this looks delicious!” he beamed.

“You didn’t think I could cook, did you.”

“No, I thought you were joking and when you weren’t I was like, ‘I HAVE to taste her cooking’. I'm a little disappointed that it doesn’t look inedible.”

“Ha ha, just eat your food, parasite.”

With anticipation, you watched Chan take a huge bite with all the fixins on the spoon. You could sense the awkwardness when he turned away.

“Stop staring at me,” he mumbled with cheeks full of rice.

“Not until you tell me what you think.”

“Well, of course it tastes good.”

“Really?”

“Yes, now stop looking at me, I’m not your zoo animal.”

A huge sigh of relief escaped you and a heavy weight off your chest was relieved. Something about cooking for new people always made you want to pass out, but if both your best friend and your best enemy admit to how good it is, maybe you’ll become more open to the idea of cooking for others more often. You DID like that huge sense of pride that rushed in.

Chan finished the bowl in two minutes. He held it up for you to take. “More, please.”

“Wow, ok.”

You were lucky enough to get a bowl yourself with Chan practically inhaling everything, and even then he still had room for dessert. It was atrocious how much a college man could eat.

“They say someone’s cooking says a lot about them,” Chan proposed while washing down his food with soda.

“They who?”

“I don’t know, the internet?” he shrugged.

“Oh, yeah? What does the internet say about a bowl of rice for dinner?”

“That you’re uptight and don’t like to have fun.”

“Hey!”

“And probably a virgin.”

Your cheeks burned an embarrassingly bright red at the proclamation. “Wh-What makes you say that!?”

“It’s a safe meal to make. You know, hard to mess up and a little simple so it’ll always taste good?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Where’s the excitement, _____? The improvisation!?”

“There’s not much room to improv in cooking, Christopher.”

“Don’t you want to live a little? Have some spontaneity?”

“Are we still talking about my cooking or…?”

“No, dumbass, I mean your life, too!” Chan hopped up from his chair and took your hand to twirl you around the kitchen like the scene in Beauty and the Beast. Oh God, you hoped you didn’t accidentally poison him or that he was having a weird allergic reaction to sesame, or something. “Have some fun for once!”

You somehow broke away from the hypnotic dance and stood as far away from that crazy man as possible. “Don’t act like you know me all of a sudden because you read some corny Buzzfeed article about a fucking bowl of rice and meat, Bang Chan!”

“What do you mean, I’ve come to know you for a whole semester.”

“A whole semester of being blacked out.”

“Hey, that means nothing!”

“Ok. Tell me one thing you know about me from a whole semester of being unconscious on my couch.”

“You have an in-depth skin care routine.”

“Anyone can guess that.”

“From the books you have lying around and a few paintings on the wall, you dabble in that horoscope bull shit.”

“So do a lot of girls, next.”

“You like heart and star-shaped marshmallows in your hot cocoa.”

You’ll admit that one had you silent for a moment. Only Yeri knew about that, but that was because those were the only marshmallows you bought specifically for hot cocoa. They add a little pizazz to your drink, especially with the edible glitter. “That doesn’t count, there’s no other marshmallow in the apartment.”

“True,” he began, pointing an accusing finger at you. “But you like a whole handful of marshmallows in your mug.”

“... S-So -”

“Ah ha, got one!”

“So what, a ton of people like marshmallows!”

“Yeah, but not pink hearts and purple stars ones!”

“How do you even know that?”

“Hm. I think it was the night of Hongjoong’s birthday. Yeah, I passed out, woke up, whined to Yeri, and she made me hot cocoa and said, ‘Do you care if the marshmallows are shaped like hearts and stars?’ And I said, ‘I ONLY want hearts and stars’.”

A shy smile spread across your lips. It’s moments like these when you weren’t chewing his ear off that he finds you a little cute. Just a little.

“Is there a reason for those specific marshmallows?” he asked.

“They’re cute,” you pouted.

“Well, do I get a prize for knowing one thing about you?”

“Yeah, doing the dishes.”

“What!?”

“I cooked now you clean!” you said before running off to your room.

A tired, but willing Chan dragged his feet to the sink. He could just throw all of the dishes in the dishwasher, but somehow hand-washing while reminiscing about all the Fridays he’s crashed here with you barking like a chihuahua the next morning was much more fun.

His cheeks hurt from smiling too much by the end of that night.

A virgin… How the hell does cooking a bowl of rice for your roommate somehow make you a virgin!?

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t the most outstanding meal you’ve ever made or could have cooked for him, but that ungrateful man who couldn’t even fry an egg shouldn’t be so picky!

But why, of all the insults and swears he’s ever thrown at you, was virgin the one that hit you the most?

Who cares if you were or weren’t one! What difference did that make you as a person, right!? At first glance, of course no one would be able to tell whether you were or weren’t one, but what did that say about people who did know you, like Chan and Yeri? Was that the kind of vibe you gave off? Were you too goody-goody, too play-by-the-rules? Was Chan right when he said your life lacked that spark, that spontaneity he seemed to so-crave?

Now that you thought about it, you haven’t gone out on a date or even found someone remotely interesting in a very long time… Since your first year of college at the very least.

Maybe you should show him how spontaneous you could get.

“That’s another thing I noticed last semester,” Chan’s charming accent shook you from your thoughts. You looked to the boy intruding in your room who leaned against the door frame, once again in only his pajama pants and a wet towel slung over his neck to barely cover his torso. He was built like he was carved from the finest slab of marble - how was his skin so white and smooth? “You tend to space out a lot, especially when you’re working on something.”

“How can you tell?”

“You get that dumb look on your face.”

“You mean the same one you have on all the time?”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“Thank you. What are you getting all dressed up for on a Tuesday night?”

“Miyeon said she was coming over like, ten minutes ago and I felt musty, so here I am, half naked in front of your door like this is the greatest dream you’ve ever had.”

“Is that the cheerleader from your game last weekend?” Chan hummed as a response, drying his hair with the towel around his neck and a toothbrush in his mouth. “Is she your girlfriend?”

You heard him choke on the toothpaste. “God, no, why do you think that?”

“I mean she kissed you… ?”

“Eh, it’s kind of an on-again-off-again thing, but nothing was ever official between us.” A sudden realization hit Chan and then that sly smirk that loved to tease you came back to haunt you. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“Jealous of some cheerleader who’s clearly in love with a man who has no interest in her while he lives with another woman?” you scoffed. “Green with envy.”

“At least I have someone in my life!” he called from the bathroom.

That, too, hit a little too close to your heart. He was right - at least he had someone who kept him company, who adored him, who he could go out on dates with… And what did you have? A lousy roommate who uses your body wash.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked after coming back fully clothed. Your bed was much softer than Yeri’s, who had a rock hard firm mattress. Perhaps Chan should take his naps here instead.

“Nothing. What is there to do on a Tuesday night?”

“Lots of things! It’s Taco Tuesday at that food truck on campus, it’s Tteokbokki Tuesday at that Auntie’s restaurant by the bookstore, ooh and the record store down the street gives out free seltzer water for the hipsters.”

“Is that what you and Miyeon are doing tonight?”

“No, she just wanted to make-out I think.”

“How romantic…”

Chan laid on your bed and kept his thoughts to himself for a while. Somehow after only a few weeks of living together did you tolerate his presence enough to not nag him to get out of your room, let alone off your bed. While you studied the infinite pages of words in your textbook, Chan was able to steal a few glances. The way your brows furrowed in frustration, the messiness of your hair, the slight pout in your lips, it was all quite cute for someone as grouchy as yourself. Although he supposed he’d be an asshole, too, if he was studying seven days a week. You must be tired and frustrated.

Without you paying attention, he whipped out his phone and texted his date.

“Darn,” he sighed convincingly. “Miyeon just cancelled on me.”

“Good for her.”

“Well, now that I’m free, it looks like it’s just you and me tonight.”

“Sike, I have some homework to do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Chan hopped off the bed and peaked over your shoulder at your homework. He was so close that you could smell his woodsy cologne. You kind of liked it. Kind of. “Homework that’s due on Friday? God, _____, at least try to be cool, you nerd.”

“Hey!”

“Get dressed, those tacos and tteokbokki won’t be piping hot forever ~”

“I’m not going!” you tried to argue, but that annoying boy was already out of your room and putting his shoes on. Evil chuckling could be heard from the living room - what a weirdo. As your stomach violently growled, it was really hard to resist such a tempting offer of food, even if it meant going with Chan.

An impatient roommate danced his way to exit. “I’m walking out the door ~”

“Chill, will you?” you mumbled while throwing on your coat. “How are you going to invite me and then abandon me?”

“Then move faster.”

“You move faster…”

“Ah ~” Chan pinched your cheek lightly. “You’re kinda cute like this.”

“Shut up.”

“You know, with trying to kick up the spontaneity in your life and what-not.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

It’s a cold Tuesday night and you almost heavily regret wanting to be spontaneous and cute and uncaring, all because a soundcloud rapper called you a virgin. But the thought of a hot cup of spicy rice cakes was enough for you to travel through the polar vortex. It helped that you weren’t the only one suffering.

“All those nights I crashed on your couch, I’d always buy a cup of this gold before heading over,” Chan admitted. “It was a shame for the days I threw it up.”

“Ah, no wonder your puke is red! I thought you were always almost dying.”

“Sometimes I wished I was.”

Of course the auntie knew Chan by the amount of times he’s stumbled upon the place drunk off his ass (“Wow, you’re walking straight and talking in sentences today!” “Ha ha, auntie…”). The fiery cup of rice cake was the perfect hand-warmer.

“Do I not give off the virgin vibe yet?” you half-joked.

A charming burst of laughter came from your annoying roommate. How could he forget that he called you that! “You’re not hung up on that, are you?”

“I just… I mean, do you think that’s the reason why…” you struggled to speak your insecurities into existence because once you did, that meant they were real and totally holding you back.

“Why what?”

“Tell me something - am I really that uptight? Does it make me seem… I don’t know, unapproachable? Unlikable, even?”

“Please, you are totally uptight.” A loud, unladylike groan echoed throughout the crowded streets of campus. “Unapproachable, yes. Unlikable? I mean, not necessarily? Some guys think that’s hot.”

“So what you’re saying is I’ll be single forever or marry some pushover.”

“Hey, don’t put words into my mouth! Look, if you really want to change how your aura appears to people, you already have! You’re out on a Tuesday night eating rice cakes with the sexiest guy you know. That’s progress in my book, all thanks to me.”

“Somehow you’ve turned my insecurities into praising yourself.” It was impressive, honestly. “You’re something else, Christopher.”

“Thank you!”

“What’s next on our impromptu tour of the town?”

“Ya like vinyl?”

“Huh?”

Chan said nothing else as he cut you off and walked right into the record shop and low and behold, potential buyers were holding skinny cans of flavored seltzer.

“C’mon, princess, there’s not enough seltzer for everyone!” Chan urged.

The vastness and number of collections of the record shop rivaled the local book shop down the street. Although much noisier and haphazard, the concept was still the same and the neon signs and signed posters gave the shop quite the personality. Actually, it was almost as if it was Chan personified.

In front of you was a basketball-loving ear-pierced punk-ass roommate who wore leather jackets in sub-freezing temperatures and didn’t know how to fold his laundry flipping through the Wu-Tang Clan basket. And there was you, the personified small local bookstore, watching him longingly and wishing you could be like him, who was cool enough to attract other cool people and be someone so approachable and likable. He was the complete opposite of you, and yet somehow you’re both here together, acting like you never had to kick his ass for using your toothbrush four too many times.

How was it possible to think that one day, someone could be in love with a plain and boring bookstore like yourself? Could someone like Chan love someone like you one day?

You hoped so.

Chan wondered where you were and found you looking at him with tired eyes. Of all the things to look at, you somehow could only look at him. With his dimply smile, he said, “Falling in love with me?”

Something made you want to say yes. “Did you find something you like?”

He silently gestured to you to come over with a lazy hand. As expected, he pulled out one of the Wu-Tang Clan records and played it on one of the modern record players that had one set of headphones at the station.

“Here, put these on,” he instructed while putting the over-ear headphones on. A smooth and unique rap style voiced over the equally-smooth instrumentals. It was unlike anything you’ve heard before. Perhaps Chan’s intellectual layers lied within his knowledge in music.

A slight pressure pressed against your right ear. You couldn’t see from your peripherals, but you could smell Chan’s rustic cologne again, and that itself already made you blush deeper shades of red than you could ever imagine. Since there was only one set of headphones, Chan obviously had no other choice but to listen to this track with you like this - invading your space bubble and making you weak in the knees.

“Do you like it?” you could barely hear.

“I do,” you replied. The song wouldn’t be over for another two minutes and Chan refused to move. “Is this what you like?”

“It’s inspirational to me.” The vibrations of his voice almost sent you into shock because wow, was he close to you or what.

He knew you were nervous. He could tell simply by how your shoulders squared the moment his ear pressed on the outside of the headphones. That’s yet another detail he’s come to notice while crashing on your couch and living with you. Whether you were nervous because he was shirtless after coming out of the shower or you were annoyed because he’d eaten all of the ice cream you were saving in the back corner of the freezer, you always straightened your posture upon seeing him because God forgive you ever show any emotion. Why were you like those stuck-up librarians at the hipster bookstores down the street who turned a blind eye to anyone who didn’t look like they read books?

Or maybe, just maybe, you were liking this. You liked being in close proximity to the sexiest guy you’ve ever laid eyes on. You liked the almost-but-not-really skinship you almost-but-not-really shared. You were nervous, not annoyed, weren’t you? Or were you annoyed that you’re nervous around your most hated enemy?

Either way, Chan wins, and that’s all that mattered to him.

You spent most of the spontaneous night in the record store listening to soul, trot, pop punk, underground hip-hop, and everything in between. Quite literally in-between, as Chan would not stop pressing his face to yours because he refused to find a second pair of headphones for him to borrow.

“Stop doing that!” you whined for the fifth time.

“I wanna listen, too ~”

“Then go steal another set of headphones!”

“But I like this. It’s way more fun. And your cheeks are so hot that the radiated heat is warming my face up.”

You’re silent at that point forward because your cheeks thought their purpose in life was to burn as hot as the sun and serve as a radiator to intrusive boys who wanted nothing more than to listen to good music with you.

Honestly, what’s there to complain about?

The record store didn’t close until midnight and you practically stayed until then. At that point, Chan with his black hole for a stomach was hungry again and led you to the taco truck he talked about earlier.

“Is it Taco Tuesday still if it’s past midnight?” you wondered.

“It’s still Tuesday until the sun comes up in my books.”

Tacos weren’t exactly an easy-to-eat street food, so you used the tin foiled rolls as hand warmers until you were back in the comfort of your kitchen where you could happily eat greasy tacos with your sworn enemy.

“What do midnight tacos say about me now?” you questioned the food and vibe expert across the table.

“They say you like cliches and you care a little too much about what people think of you.”

“How the hell did you come up with that?”

“Please, Taco Tuesday is so cliche! And you conformed to it because you want to seem more playful and less of a stick-up-your-ass, am I right?”

The pout on your lips was enough of an answer. “Now I feel like a virgin in sheep’s clothing.”

“Hey, we all have to start somewhere.”

“Do you think I’m more likable this way?”

Perhaps Chan was a little harsh with his words the one night you cooked for him. He thought he would be able to know you front and back after nearly a month of living together, but it seemed that he was farther away from that than he thought. After all this time, he thought you didn’t care one bit about how people perceived your feisty self. Maybe instead you cared too much and you had built a wall to prevent others like Chan from knowing.

“You were always likable,” he admitted honestly.

“Please stop lying,” you groaned.

“I mean it! Even when you were yelling at me or trying to kick me off the couch or stealing back the food I was trying to eat, I never hated you. It was so much fun messing with you because you were not afraid to cuss me out.”

“And that makes me likable how?”

Chan shrugged. “I have fun when I’m around you. Do you think I would have kept coming back to crash here if I hated you?”

“Yeah, to torture me.”

“Well, to clear things up, I don’t hate you. And I bet my bottom dollar that you don’t hate me, either.”

“Sike.”

“You’re telling me you still hate me after the fun we had tonight? Or the night you watched me play and cooked for me? Or even the one night after Lucas’s Halloween party when I passed out here even though your heater was broken and you wrapped me up in your fuzzy blanket?”

Another blush spread across your cheeks. “You remember that?”

“How could I forget the first night you showed me any compassion?”

“Fine, you’re right, I don’t hate you… You’re, in fact, quite tolerable.”

Who knew Chan’s eyes could light up so brightly at such a mediocre compliment, if you’d even call it one. “You like me ~”

“Stop.”

“You’re gonna fall in love with me ~”

“Chan -”

“I bet you already have ~”

“Ok, I’m going to bed.”

“No, you aren’t!”

You tried to run out of the kitchen and into your room to lock the door, but Chan got to you just as you reached the living room. He entrapped you with his big, strong arms and held you in a suffocating hug, drowning out his giggles with your screaming. Your resistance was strong, but you were smiling brighter than he’d ever seen before. Today was a long day for both of you and the moment Chan rested his chin on your shoulder was when you stopped struggling to break free. His tufts of chestnut hair and slow breathing tickled your cheeks.

“Oi, wake up,” you demanded, hitting his forearms.

That only made him hold you tighter. “No.”

You stopped fighting him and let the poor boy rest on your shoulder. “You don’t think this is weird?”

“No. We’re just two roommates fighting, right?” he teased, shaking you in his arms.

“Yeah, fighting.”

“Do you think it’s weird?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Please.”

His giggle rang in your ear and made goosebumps travel throughout your skin. Then Chan did what spontaneous Chan does and surprised you by kissing your cheek with a loud, moist, audible smooch.

“A-Ah, Chan!!” you gasped.

“Goodnight, beautiful.”

Before you could scold him further, he had already let go and went to his room. How long was he holding you? Because now you’re left stunned in the living room feeling the cold from the draft of your windows. Your cheek felt like it had been branded by his soft rose petal lips. It burned so much that you ended your night lying in bed staring at the ceiling cupping the tainted cheek.

“I hate him,” you mumbled to no one. Your words hold zero weight the moment you screamed into your pillow.

The first couple of days after the incident were a little weird, to put it simply. You circled back to your old habits of avoiding him and keeping conversations short and that didn’t slip past Chan for even a couple of hours. At first, he thought he might have ruined whatever weird friendship you had together, but the way you avoided him was not how it used to be.

You were embarrassed - dare he say even shy. Your avoidance held no malice and didn’t feel icy as it did last semester. Rather, you fled because you felt vulnerable. Your words were no longer full of insults, but instead were soft and sprinkled with stutters. It was like a scene from a drama set in high school where the cute shy nerd has a massive crush on the super sexy jock and won’t admit her feelings because she doesn’t think she has a chance. And knowing you, you would never admit to having feelings, so how was Chan supposed to get a confession out of you?

Cornering you was the only option he thought could work, but sadly that didn’t.

“Chan, c’mon, I have to use the bathroom,” you whined on the other side of the door.

He didn’t say a word when the door opened and steam spilled out into the halls. Yet again was he dressed only in his pajama bottoms and a towel around his neck, hair still damp and hanging loosely over his eyes. He took a step forward and you’re given no choice but to back up.

“What are you -”

You cut yourself off when your back hit the wall and Chan had you in the palm of his hands. Proximity was close to nothing as your toes touched and you could smell your body wash from his freshly-washed chest. Seriously, he still used your body wash!?

“C-Can I use the bathroom or what…” you stuttered.

He stared right in your eyes, then admired your cute nose, and finally down to your lips. He was teasing you! Like, actually teasing! He’s making you think that he wanted to kiss you! All of the possibilities of him making a move on you were just as equal as him not going through with it and your mind was racing like crazy and it was really starting to stress you out! Why, why was it stressing you out!?

Then he took a huge step back to let you through.

“All yours,” he whispered.

Well, that sort of worked… You didn’t say a verbal confession, but your face sure showed it. But no, that wasn’t enough. He needed to hear you say it. He had to do more, and he knew exactly what to do to push your limits.

For the whole week, whenever you did something for him whether it was answering a simple question or giving him a plate of whatever you cooked for dinner, Chan would kiss your cheek. That’s right, those soft rose petal lips would every-so slightly graze your cheeks almost everyday and even when you tried to scold him or fight back, you didn’t, as if you were stunned frozen every single time. This of course scared Chan - no emotion meant uncertainty on his end. Well, did you like it, or not!?

At some point, after a whole week of cheek kisses, you kind of… got used to it. Got used to the damn kisses, his flirtatious winks, the invasion of your space bubble, eating all of your food, using all of your bath products, taking unsolicited naps on your bed while you studied, all of it! You’ve gotten used to being around the man that is Bang Chan and you would almost admit that you liked being around him… almost.

And neither of you spoke up about it.

So… what were you two…? That’s right, you’re asking yourself the infamous ‘so what are we’ question - it’s really reached that point. No longer were you enemies or just plain roommates living separate lives, and of course you two weren’t dating, either. So did you consider him a friend? Sure, I mean you wouldn’t cook dinner for just anyone, right? But everything Chan did was not what normal friends do. At least in your experience - who knows if he’s doing this type of stuff to his other ‘friends’, like Miyeon.

Speaking of which, you hadn’t heard about her in a while, and you were almost convinced whatever relationship they had was over when she called off their date that one Tuesday - until Friday night.

The night was still young when you arrived home to your roommate mixing and playing with some beats over those impossibly loud speakers. It’s been a long week dealing with school work on top of figuring out your conflicting feelings of the boy in the next room and a quiet night without any games from Chan would be ideal, but life never worked out for you in that way, did it?

“Welcome home, darling ~!” he greeted playfully over the blasting bass before turning it down. “Cookin’ anything for dinner?”

The tiredness in your sigh didn’t go unnoticed. “Nah, I don’t feel like cooking tonight. I might do delivery if you’re up for that?”

The charming man came out of the room all dressed up like he was planning on going out and not coming back for the night. “That’s ok, I actually have plans tonight.”

“Oh? Where are you going?”

“Miyeon’s taking me out to one of her friend’s birthday bash, or whatever rich girls like to do, before we all go out tonight.”

Miyeon, the gorgeous cheerleader. Somehow, you’ve completely forgotten her existence. Of course they were still talking, idiot! How could you even think that you could compete with someone like her?

“Are you her date?” you asked hesitantly, not wanting to know the answer.

“If that’s what she’s callin’ it, I guess so.” Chan adjusted his shirt collar and unbuttoned the top. “Do I look good?”

“Do you not consider her your date?”

“Not really. All I have to do is sit and look pretty.”

“You don’t think she’s asking you because she likes you?”

“Please, she probably only asked me because Mingyu said no.”

“Chan, you don’t know that for sure.”

You began to feel his frustration when he threw his hands in the air in disbelief. The truth hurts, doesn’t it? “Why are you so hung up about this? Why does it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t!” you said a little too defensively. “I just don’t think you’re being fair.”

“How?”

“What if she really likes you? What if she’s asking you out to this thing because she wants you to know that? If she does like you, can you even say that you like her back?”

“Tch, no.”

“Then why even bother going and leading her on!?”

“Who said I’m leading her on? I’m just keeping her company!”

“What, so you’re going to have your arm around her waist, look into each others’ eyes and kiss and it’s going to mean nothing!?” At this point, you were screaming before you knew it. “Because that’s what you two normally do, right? Kiss each other like it means nothing?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it means, nothing! I -” Chan sighed heavily. “Ok, it does sound a little ridiculous when I say it out loud, but I promise it doesn’t mean anything! Wait a minute, why am I even explaining myself to you? Are you jealous, or something?”

No, you’re not jealous. You’re angry that Chan was that kind of guy who played with women like they were toys or little pawns on a cheap chess set. You’re angry that you were one of them.

“Have fun tonight,” you said flatly, retrieving to your room.

“_____, wait.” You didn’t wait and instead locked your bedroom door. “Fuck.”

Well, Chan’s End Game plan to get you to confess out of jealousy backfired badly. The party wasn’t even real! Dammit, now where was he supposed to go looking like this!?

A small lightbulb went off in his head. Off to the grocery store!

Maybe going to your room was a terrible idea because now you were left to reflect on how you poorly reacted. You had your strong points about how Chan didn’t know how Miyeon truly felt about him, but the flipside was that she could have felt the same - that she was just using Chan as some accessory and he was totally ok with that. Who were you to judge the weird mutualistic relationship that they had as head cheerleader and captain of the basketball team? The concept seemed corny and straight out of a teen movie, but perhaps those movies weren’t too far off base as you thought.

You’re also left to reflect on what he said before you stormed off into your room - were you jealous? At first, your anger could easily be mistaken for jealousy, but what was the truth? Of course you’re furious that Chan played these stupid fucking games with you! But you’d be less mad if you were the only one he cared to fool around with.

You finally left the room around an hour after your sulking to bump into Chan’s rock-hard chest.

“Jesus Christ!” you screamed. “Chan, what the hell!”

“Sorry, I was about to knock!”

“What are you doing right in front of my room, you werido!?”

The cheeky, dimply boy held up a paper bag. “Buzzfeed said people who like desserts are emotionally-driven and a little cold-hearted, but sweet as sugar once they get their fix.”

“Buzzfeed said that or YOU said that?”

“Both.”

You shook your head tiredly. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I lied. I don’t have some extravagant party to go to tonight. I haven’t texted Miyeon in weeks.”

“What? Then why did you…?”

“I had this dumb idea that you would confess your undying love for me if I somehow made you jealous. Clearly that didn’t work.”

“You’re right, you’re dumb ideas never work.”

“Hey, I didn’t say that! Fine, let me try Plan B. Let me know it it’s also dumb.”

“Gladly.”

“_____, I like you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Y-You what?”

“I like you. A lot. Since you threw that blanket over me that one night last semester and I knew you didn’t truly hate my guts after all. And then I got to live with you - to witness your multi-faceted personality, to talk with you, and to get you to laugh at my dumb jokes and cheek kisses. Tell me, _____, am I dumb for falling for you like this?”

“Well… I’d say yes, but that would admit I’m stupid, too.”

“Oh?” He smirked playfully, taking a step forward. “And that’s because…?”

You mumbled something incoherent. Then, Chan dropped the bag of desserts and scooped you in his arms again, nuzzling his nose in all the ticklish places on your neck.

“Chan, stop!” you giggled.

“Hm? What was that?” he asked. “I can’t hear you ~”

“I like you!”

Finally, he stopped, lifting his head to look at you but keeping you safe in his arms. “Do you? I mean, really, do you?”

“I like you. Surprisingly a lot. And I hate it.”

“Music to my ears, baby,” he grinned. He buried his face once more to flower you with cheek kisses. “Say it again.”

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“Please ~” his kisses trickled down to your neck.

“It tickles!” you giggled some more. “If I say it, you gotta stop.”

“As much as that burdens me, fine.”

“I like you, Bang Chan.”

“See? Doesn’t that confession feel great? Like a huge weight lifted off your chest?” He pulled you in closer, to which you oblige and it only made his ego bigger and his heart beat faster. “I could get used to this.”

“Me too,” you sighed dreamily.

“Would you like dessert to commemorate this beautiful union, my love?”

“Sounds delightful.”

“Will you kiss me first?”

You pulled on his shirt collar to bring him down for a long, deep kiss that Chan thought he could only ever dream about. It left him dizzy and a little light headed and the way you break the kiss to let your sweet lips linger so closely was torturous and almost had him begging for more. Almost. Bang Chan did not beg.

“Whoa,” he sighed breathily.

“That’s what you get for the past couple of weeks.”

“Ah yeah, I suppose I deserve that…”

You left the stunned Chan to go ahead into the kitchen. “Let’s go, lover boy. I want some ice cream, please.”

“Anything for you, princess.”

EPILOGUE

“You two are what!?”

You and Chan looked at each other with fear written on both of your faces. Yeri was on the other end on speakerphone screaming curse words and ‘are you kidding me’s and ‘I fucking knew this would happen’s.

“Yeah, we’re uh, kind of dating now,” Chan repeated bravly.

“I cannot believe what I’m hearing! This is disgusting!! _____, what do you have to say for yourself, you hypocritical piece of poo!”

“I have nothing to say, I am just as ashamed as you are.”

Chan nudged you playfully. “Hey, we’re in this together, you know!”

“Ugh, I hate how I have to support this!” Yeri whined and cried and sobbed. “Just… Just don’t do it on my bed!”

“Don’t worry, apparently to Chan I’m a huge virgin because I know how to cook.”

“I was kidding!! And that’s gonna change now that I’m here -”

“Oh, gross! Stop! Please stop!” Yeri groaned. “I hate you both, I’m gonna kick your asses when I come back!”

“Love you too, Yer-bear,” you and Chan said in unison.

#bang chan #chan #skz #stray kids #skz chan #stray kids chan #college au #roommates au #chan scenarios #bang chan scenarios #chan imagines #bang chan imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #omg no more chan for a very long time im tired of him LOL

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fantasticstoryteller · 3 years

Text

New Dynasty Chapter 2

“Because it’s not like you believe me!” snarled Peter. He threw the duffel bag over his shoulder and glared at his adopted parent. He hadn’t bothered trying to time his exit for when Tony wasn’t home—because he knew the confrontation would happen anyway. He’d rather go ahead and get it over with.

Tony rubbed his face. “We’ve been through this, Peter. Your senses are just in overdrive after all that shit this summer.”

“If that was it,” fumed Peter, “then why is it only when I’m Peter?” He glared, knowing the older man had no answer for him. He nodded, once, firmly. “So, I’m changing my routine for a few days.”

“Peter—”

“If it is,” Peter continued firmly, “just my senses in overdrive, then a change in scenery might help them settle down.” He sighed and ran his own hand over his face.

“Peter, that man is insane.”

“True.” Peter saw no point in arguing the obvious; Wade was insane. Normal people didn’t talk to voices in their heads. “But he’s also vigilant, protective—”

“Peter—”

“And he’d never hurt me,” Peter finished firmly glaring at Tony. Peter hadn’t told Tony what Wade had told him about the voices—because Tony didn’t need to know. He didn’t need to know how the person most put at risk was Deadpool. And anyone in the vicinity with a gun, but Peter didn’t carry guns.

Pepper appeared behind Tony and hugged him. She leaned around the man mouthed at Peter, “Go.” Then she turned to Tony. “Listen,” she told him firmly, “he’s not running away. He’s trying to get things done in his own mind. Let him go.”

Peter didn’t stay to hear Tony’s reply, taking her Pepper’s advice and leaving. Besides, it wasn’t like he was going far. Wade literally lived across the street. He’d still have plenty of time to get to work in the morning—even if he wasn’t entirely sure why his adopted father insisted on living over his labs. Actually, he wasn’t sure why Wade lived in a condo. Back when they met on patrol he’d been pretty sure the mercenary would be the crappy room, can’t afford to care kind of guy.

The doorman nodded and let Peter in when he made it across the street. Peter thanked him and then took the stairs to Wade’s floor. After getting trapped in an elevator with weird plant-dog hybrids trying to tear him apart during the summer, he didn’t really like elevators that much. Besides, there was nothing wrong with the stairs.

Peter winced when he heard a loud crash from inside the condo. “What?” he heard Wade ask. He paused, wondering if Wade had company when he heard the mercenary answer himself. “No, I don’t know why that vase was there. Why do I even have a vase? What do you mean, ‘that’s what the maid is for’?”

Peter relaxed. Wade was as alone as he ever got, and he reached up and knocked. In far too short a time the door opened showing a frazzled Wade, scars and all, wearing an apron and holding a broom. “Hi Wade,” Peter said cheerfully as he showed himself in.

“Er—um—hi?” asked Wade. “Shut up, of course he knows he’s welcome. No, I am not asking what colors his curtains are!”

“Hi White,” Peter said comfortably as he walked into the living room. “Hi Yellow.” He looked at the mess on the floor. A large pottery vase with blue and white print on it was in pieces on the hardwood. “What happened?” he asked curiously.

“Not sure,” Wade said with a frown. “I was walking to the kitchen—going to make pancakes—and suddenly poof! Broken vase on the floor, keep your shoes on.” He growled. “I know he has healing factor, but it’s shit compared to mine!”

Peter would be lying if he said he hadn’t found the mercenary a bit unnerving the first few times they met. Still, despite all his odd quirks, Wade was a good guy. And Peter liked him.

“I’ve got two spare rooms—author’s orders—and you can pick whichever room makes you feel comfortable. Or you could bunk on the couch, or in my room, or—whatever,” concluded Wade lamely.

Peter looked up from the mess at the floor to see Wade shifting slightly from foot to foot and carefully not looking at Peter. He’s also not wearing his mask and Peter’s lips can’t help but twitch up at the sides. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

Wade shuffled forwards wearing huge pink, fluffy unicorn slippers. “Just a bit,” admitted the mercenary. He rubbed a hand over his scarred head. “I don’t—you’re the first person here,” he added.

He watched the nervous man for a moment. “Wade,” he asked, “are you okay with me staying here for a few days? Because if you’re not—”

“What? Of course I’m okay with it, I’m just—shut up! I’m not asking that!”

Sometimes Peter was really glad he didn’t have to hear the voices in Wade’s head. Honestly, it was amazing the merc was as well adjusted as he was, all things considered. “All right,” said Peter as he grabbed the broom and dustpan from his crazy friend. “I’ll get the mess, you get pancakes.” He grinned. “Your pancakes are the best.”

Wade stared at him for a moment, blinking as if he was about to cry. Then: “Hell yeah, they’re the best!” he roared before lunging towards the kitchen.

Peter didn’t even lose his grin when he saw the pancakes were all in the shapes of dicks.

#Spider-Man #Deadpool #Spideypool

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purplesurveys · 3 years

Text

1200

Have you ever felt a baby kick? Yeah, when my mom was pregnant with my brother.

What color pants/shorts are you wearing? I have red shorts on at the moment.

When is the last time you did something truly fun, and what was it? Last Friday, I’d say? Hahaha. Counted down the hours and minutes before the Butter MV drop, celebrating and freaking out with Army when it finally came out, watched the OT7 VLive that happened that afternoon, and streamed the video for nearly 24 hours straight so we could break some records, all of which we ended up achieving. It feels great to stan a group again after being out of the loop for so long lol.

What was the scariest moment of your life? A few men have lunged towards me - just to get attention, I guess? - in the past, while I was just peacefully walking. I always hear them snickering once I’ve flinched, and I always ended up crying once I’ve processed the situation.

Have you ever heard of Leonard Cohen? I know of the name, but I have no clue who he is or what he does (did?).

Pancakes or flapjacks? I don’t even know what flapjacks are, so let’s go with pancakes.

What kind of computer are you on? I’m using a Macbook Air.

Do you eat Chinese food? If so, what's your favorite dish? Yes. Minced pork with eggplant.

What are you usually doing at midnight? On weekdays, I spend it in bed, either watching videos or already reading fanfics to get ready to turn in. On Friday nights and weekends, I will usually be found on the rooftop taking a survey or two.

Have you ever developed feelings for a friend, but you were already with someone? No, I’ve never developed feelings for another person while in a relationship.

If so, how did it turn out?

Give me your brief definition of love. I will always stick by this quote, “Love never says, ‘I have done enough.’”

What is the most beautiful part of the human body, male or female? This is subjective, of course, but personally I find it to be thighs.

What kind of shoes do you wear? I’m not wearing any at the moment; but in general, I like to wear sneakers.

What is the worst thing you've ever done when you were really angry? Physical violence.

Are there any pills you take on a daily basis? If so, what? Nope.

Do you like the smell of coconuts? Not so much. I like coconut milk, though.

What is the heaviest you think you can lift? I think my personal best was like 60 or 70 lbs, back when I had weight training classes for PE in college. I remember being in so much pain once I gave the 80 lbs barbell a shot.

Do you take Tums? No.

Have you ever walked on a pier at the beach? ...Ugh. I’m pretty sure I’ve taken this survey very recently but I might as well just take it again because I don’t feel like searching for another. Anyway, I haven’t... at least not that I can remember.

How about under one? Definitely not.

At what age do you first remember feeling butterflies in your stomach around someone? I was around 12 when I was starting to feel confused about getting nervous around Andi.

Do you feel that way around anyone now? I don’t.

Do you ever talk to yourself or think deep thoughts while on the toilet? No haha but I usually bring my phone with me to keep me company.

Do you ever sing to yourself? Pretty often.

What is a sound that relaxes you? Ocean waves.

How hard has it been to reach your main goal in life? I don’t have a main goal set in life. I just live in the now and try to do things or make decisions that would keep me consistently happy.

Do you remember the song about hoes in different area codes? HAHAHAHAHA definitely took this recently; this is so embarassing. No, I still don’t know about this song.

What is your main heritage? Filipino.

What kind of pickles do you prefer, if you like pickles? I hate pickles and I find them absolutely nasty, but there are other pickled things I like, like radishes.

What kind of cheese do you prefer, if you like cheese? Mozzarella and feta.

If you could have a sea creature as a pet, what would you want? No thanks. I’m not capable of providing them proper care.

How about a farm animal? I would just stick to dogs.

So, do you have hoes in different area codes?

What is the most annoying song you can think of that came out recently? I’ve been in a BTS bubble for a solid month or so and I honestly can’t tell you my opinion about songs that have recently come out, because I literally don’t know any.

What is a song that you hate to admit you like? There isn’t any I’m guilty about.

What inspires you to get off your bum and do something productive? Knowing I’ll feel accomplished once I do it.

Do you ever use Urban Dictionary? Never anymore. I used to browse through it only when I was a lot younger.

Do you find the definitions on there to be generally funny or stupid? Both.

What comes to your mind when you hear the word 'transformation'? The Transformers series, lol.

What was something you regularly played with as a child? I always liked clay and I never really graduated from that interest, since I find the texture fascinating and fun to play with.

Have you ever given in to peer pressure? Sure.

If so, what did you do? I had my first sip of alcohol at Kaira’s 18th birthday and I was feeling left out since literally everyone else was drinking. For vaping, Gabie introduced it to me; and for smoking, it was another case of FOMO that made me want to try it out.

What part of your body have you had the most problems with in your life? My back.

Do a lot of people check you out when you're in public? Idk? I don’t take note of that kind of attention, anyway; I would find it creepy.

How many people do you know for sure to be interested in you right now? Zero.

What is a good name for a turtle? I think it would be the same process as the way I think it would be for any other pet; it would depend on their personality, their aura, etc.

Can you imitate any accents well? If so, which one(s)? Not really. I can read Hangul and am familiar with the different tonalities used in Korean but I wouldn’t say my imitation would be considered spot-on.

Do you like having your ear nibbled on? Yes.

What makes a good kisser a good kisser? When they know how to use their tongue in a teasing way, for one. Eugh it’s too early for this lol

How many times a year do you have a family thing? What even is a family thing?

What are the best things to put in a smoothie? I don’t like smoothies.

Do you ever eat with your eyes closed and just focus on the taste? Yup, especially when I’m either eating somewhere pricey or when I’m eating at one of my favorite restaurants.

What do you dislike most about where you live right now? It’s a pretty uneventful city, and if I want to have some fun I always have to go to Manila.

Has anyone ever given you a rose/roses? Yup.

Are you watching your weight? No.

Have you ever became really good friends with someone you found online? Yes. Aliyah and I are still friends and I’m glad we’ve been able to maintain our friendship even after mine and Gab’s falling out. It’s a shame the three of us didn’t get to meet in real life though, and it will 100% never happen now. I also used to have a group of Twitter friends back in my wrestling stan days but it’s been a very long time since we’ve gone our separate ways. I have yet to find friends on Army Twitter but I really doubt I would get to build established friendships any time soon because EVERYONE IS SO YOUNG OVER THERE

What makes your best friend your best friend? They understand me better than anyone else does.

Do you have a drunk uncle? I have a couple of them.

Do you hear weird noises in your house at night? Nope.

What is something you do that is generally more like something the opposite sex does? Ignoring this question.

What is the girliest thing you do, if you're a girl? Also ignoring this.

What is the coolest tattoo you've ever seen? I find line tattoos to be pretty cool and beautiful in general. The minimalist look it goes for works really well.

Have you ever created anything artistic that you're proud of? If so, what? That vase I molded during my Vigan trip :) It was the first (and so far) only thing I’ve made from scratch, and even though I didn’t get to take it home, I’m still glad I had the opportunity to try pottery.

Do you only eat the middle of the oreo, if you eat oreos? No? That’s pretty wasteful. I eat the whole cookie.

Do you know anyone with a huge ego? Hahahahaha. Yes.

If so, is there anything else about them you actually like? Not anymore, no.

Have you ever used a racial slur, even jokingly? Most likely as a stupid teenager when I didn’t know any better.

Do you have any friends who are more like siblings to you? Angela and Laurice.

If so, what about them do you like most? They’re very easy to talk to, and they’re both selfless and generous.

What is everyone else in your house doing right now? My mom is making dinner while I believe everyone else is just on their phones waiting for the dish to be made.

What is the most money you've ever had at one time? I don’t remember the exact amounts anymore but my mom used to hand me cheques and regularly assign me to pay for me and my sister’s tuition back in grade school and high school, since she had work during the day and didn’t have time to stop by the school herself.

How long do you think it would take you to run a mile? I don’t know but definitely longer than what would be considered a decent duration for a fit person.

Look down. What do you see? I can see my legs but just barely since it’s dark out.

What is a subject that makes you uncomfortable? Topics I don’t know too much about.

What is a subject you can talk on and on about and not get sick of it? BTS, my field, and history.

What kind of mood were you in most of today? Comfortable. We had the aircon on all day and I just watched BTS MVs and live performances, and I don’t really feel bad about being unproductive for once.

Has anyone ever walked in on you naked? Just once or twice.

Tell me an inside joke you have with someone. Togepi.

What is the worst thing someone could do to you emotionally? Tell me hurtful words.

What is the worst thing you've ever done to someone emotionally? Idk...maybe cut them off unexpectedly? I'll usually have no problem doing this with people who make me uncomfortable.

How do you feel now about the first person you ever dated? Nothing. She’s not in my life.

How about the last person (your last ex)? She’s the same person.

What is the best invention ever invented? The internet.

What is something that needs to be invented? Not a completely new invention but I wish programs that can identify songs for you, like Siri, can be more improved to be able to recognize songs just by humming the tone. So far they can only name songs if you play it clearly for a few seconds, but it can be a hassle if I wanna have access to a certain song but only remember the melody and otherwise have no idea what the lyrics are or who sang them.

Describe your eyes. I don’t think they’re anything special. I don’t count them as a striking feature of mine.

What always makes you burp? Eating quickly. And beer.

What is something you hate doing that most couples do? There isn’t anything.

What's your astrological sign? Taurus.

What are you doing tomorrow? I wanna finally watch the Friends reunion special since I didn’t feel like watching it today. I also have a press release to write for one of my clients – they requested for it Friday and want it by Monday :(

#survey #surveys

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koreanfilmjottings · 4 years

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little forest (2018)

films are so much more enjoyable when you are in the right mood for them. a coronavirus-induced lockdown and some career changes has made me contemplative and yearning for something to anchor on. which is why little forest was especially delightful to watch.

in little forest, kim tae-ri plays hye-won, who returns to her rural hometown after failing to become a teacher in seoul. although she initially claims to only stay for “four days or so”, she stays through the four seasons while doing farm work, reconnecting with her childhood friends, and reconciling with the bittersweet memories of her mother, who had suddenly left her when she was in high school.

little forest does a brilliant job of advertising simple countryside living. while some parts did come across as unrealistic, i must admit that i was compelled. often city dwellers over-compensate to find some grounding and resonance with countryside living (pottery, homemade kombucha and cold brew teas are only some examples). but in the world where hye-won and her friends live in, this way of life is modestly taken as daily routine. we see hye-won’s home warmly furnished with handmade wheel-thrown wares, well-stocked with muslin cloth and mason jars, and i cannot lie that i felt no jealousy.

more so than others, food featured strongly in this film. little forest fed us with many recipes that comprised only natural ingredients across the four seasons - potato bread, azuki bean-topped rice flour pancakes, plain-fried cabbage with sujebi. (i am sure there is a compilation of little forest recipes somewhere on the web.) when hye-won winces remembering the convenience store bentos she ate while living in seoul, i winced with her too, knowing just how industrial those could taste. crucially, hye-won’s passion for authentic natural cooking is imparted from her mother; while she reconnects with countryside cooking, she is forced to face the memories of her mother in the kitchen.

what resonated the most with me was the farming practice of ‘field planting’. i am not sure of the exact english term, but in essence it refers to the transferring of germinated seeds from a smaller environment to a larger one, so the seeds are given more space to grow. jae-ha (ryu joon-yeol’s character) had quit his job in seoul to return to farming in the countryside, and he explained to hye-won, “i left because i do not want to live a life set up by others. in the workplace i am rarely given the space to act freely. i am just waiting for payday. what was the meaning in that?” while it could sound flippant and romanticised, i resonated especially with that sentiment because of the recent career changes that i made. when jae-ha called hye-won out, that she was just keeping busy to avoid having to think about bigger problems, i even teared because it was as if he was talking about me and the everyday. where is my space to settle and grow?

little forest felt so japanese in tone (unsurprisingly so, since the source material was a japanese book of the same name), which i enjoyed because i like japanese fiction. in fact, this film reminded me in particular of the travelling cat chronicles, because both the book and this film lusciously depicted the beauty of the seasons in the countryside. regardless of setting, though, i think the strength of little forest lies in that its themes and heart is universal and easily transposable. who doesn’t, even occasionally, yearn for a simpler routine, a meaningful existence, and catharsis?

little forest is probably the second korean film to move me on a personal level, after house of hummingbird. and unsurprisingly so too, because they are both helmed by female directors. i am always looking forward to more films by female filmmakers, and while i hadn’t heard of this director before, her other films look very interesting and sensitive, so they will definitely be checked out soon. if you are a fan of korean entertainment in general, you’d be able to recognise certain actor favourites (kim tae-ri, moon so-ri, ryu joon-yeol, jin ki-joo). this film probably also contributed to the rising popularity of camping in korea, as well as variety shows such as little cabin in the woods.

i’d encourage people to watch this - lockdown or not, but even more so during lockdown. it may lead you to look harder for the simple comforts that already exist within your homes, or it may lead you to re-examine something more. -- 9/10

#little forest #korean movie #korean movies #korean films #korean film review #koreanfilmjottings #kim tae ri #moon so ri #ryu jun yeol #ryu joon yeol #jin ki joo

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marcholasmoth · 3 years

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OSRR: 2535

today i was so fuckin productive, like holy shit.

i woke up this morning. at 7am. not at 1pm, or 2pm, or 3:30pm, like i have in the last week.

7am.

and i got up.

i took my meds and i got pancakes.

and i came back and started working on my capstone. i asked for a pad of sticky notes and i grabbed a pen and i scribbled out all the thoughts in my head of things i needed to include in my paper. i ended up with 24 sticky notes across three sheets of paper (because they wouldn't stick to the table), and i organized them into groups that flowed together and i cut them out as columns and stapled them together. and then i went through after kind of giving my mom a run-down of what i wanted to include, and i wrote down the subcategories i wanted to include along with specific details. and then i took that whole ass tiny sticky note flip book and turned it into a word document outline. i added the smaller details and stuff and then i made a second document where i went and looked up images and stuff of details or equations i needed to know in order to effectively write each section.

i got about a quarter of the way through looking for images and information by the time i talked to dr noah, and i told him of my success in the morning of a new outline and brainstorming, and he was proud of me for being able to do that, because that exact sort of thing is commonly used by scientists to write up proposals and stuff. so nice.

he also opened a sandbox to me in canvas and posted the materials i was going to need from matlab and the capstone course so they wouldn't keep expiring on me, so i have that all now too. which will be good.

after talking to dr noah, i kept working. my mom left at some point and i switched gears because i was thinking about unh and the fall and my job and my meds and i ended up sending like twelve emails to five different people. i wrote to one of the people with a scholarship fund at the school for community college students who go to the college of engineering and physical sciences, and i told her that i wouldn't need a lot of money for the fall. after finding the courses i wanted and putting them into a schedule, i sent an email to the person to register me for classes, and we went back and forth a bit about that, so i'm all registered for classes. i sent a request in for my medication to be renewed, and later i got a notification that it was ready. i took the partially filled out schedule from my classes and determined what hours i'd want for work for the fall, and i took that and sent an email to our new supervisor. i went in and i did calculations on my schedule for costs and payments and stuff and seeing how my fall would turn out to be. i also sent an email to the financial aid department declining the work-study i got because that would require me getting a job on campus and i'm not about to do that, especially because that would take away time from a better paying job that i already have that isn't so far away. so that's taken care of. and i worked on searching for images and information in between as my mind allowed me to.

i was about two-thirds done with the information search by the time i went to take a shower and then leave to go for pottery. i didn't end up painting. i did, however, sit and hang out and talk and work on my outline further. i finished it and finished collecting the information and i sent them off in an email to dr noah for consideration and critique. i still have a lot of reading, but i now have a direction and specific things i need information on.

i did, thankfully, get to talk to joel today, if only a little bit. i'm sad i haven't gotten to see him quite yet, but with the work i got done today, i can justify it. sometimes i just wanna sit with him. like now. i'd like to sit and cuddle with him. just exist together in the same space. god i love him so much. when i think about going to see him, it feels like coming home.

i just love him a lot. and yknow? he makes me happy.

(also casually referred to friend on discord as "my heart" not too long ago bc i like them and they give me butterflies ok i'm definitely polyam)

#molly rambles #operation srr #osrr #2000s #2500s #sunshine boy #god i love him so much

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datleggy · 4 years

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short buddie fic about the first time christopher calls buck dad bc i cant help myself

It’s father’s day.

Buck used to hate father’s day as a kid. His father had abandoned the family a long time ago, and he’d been miserable watching the other kids do pottery or make cards for their dads when he didn’t have anyone to do anything for.

Now though, he’s looking forward to seeing Eddie’s face light up when Christopher gets home from school with his father’s day gift.

It’s Buck’s turn to pick Christopher up today, while Eddie’s finishing up some errands downtown. He pulls up in his truck and waits in the lane with the other parents until it’s time.

Buck thinks back to how a year ago, before he started dating Eddie, before he moved in, he would have spent his day off sleeping in--instead of waking up extra early to get Christopher ready for drop off--and finding some hot new conquest to go out to the bars with--instead of trying to find all the matching socks in the laundry bin to make sure they all went in the right drawers at home.

On occasion Buck does miss sleeping in, but he doesn’t miss his old lifestyle. He loves spending his time with his boys, he loves coming home and watching Christopher stop whatever it is he’s doing to come hug him hello, he loves when Eddie burns his pancakes, because he gets too distracted by Buck’s bedhead early in the morning.

Buck has always been a very glass half full type of guy. But there’s something so precarious and new about the situation he’s in--he wants it to last forever, but he knows that’s not really up to him. Christopher could wake up one day and decide he wants a mom, and Eddie would do anything for that kid, which Buck completely understands.

It’s been a year since they started dating, and a little over three months since they started living together, but none of Eddie’s family--besides his abuela, who found out by accident one day--know about them being together.

They’re very old fashioned, Eddie had said, he would spill the beans eventually, just not now. He hadn’t said anything at the time, but it makes Buck anxious to know he’s being kept a secret from those who matter most in his boyfriends’ life.

“Bucky!”

Buck jumps up, startled from his thoughts, and gets out of the car, “Hey Superman!” he waves hi to his teacher and she gives him a big grin.

“Happy Father's day.” she says.

“Oh, well, I’m not--uh, thanks.” he nods his head at her and takes Christopher to the car before he can put his whole foot in his mouth in front of her. It’d definitely be weird explaining to Miss Simian and a group of 4th graders that he’s not a dad, just Christopher’s dad’s live in boyfriend who also happens to be a coworker.

After Christopher’s buckled into the front seat securely Buck asks him how his day was.

“Good! I have a surprise in my bag.” he replies, clearly up the wall with excitement.

“Ooh,” Buck grins. “Can I see?”

Christopher shakes his head adamantly. “Nuh uh. Not til we get home.”

“Stingy.” Buck sticks his tongue out playfully.

Christopher giggles, but doesn’t budge, keeping his backpack close to him, on his lap.

There’s a lot of traffic, so they don’t get home until past three thirty. Eddie’s home before them, packing away the groceries. “Hey guys!” he kisses Buck on the lips chastely, and then bends down to give Christopher a hug. “How was school?”

Christopher starts unzipping his backpack. “I made stuff!”

Eddie laughs at the unfiltered enthusiasm in his kids voice and leans his hip against the kitchen counter. “Oh yeah?” It’s only Friday, Father's Day isn’t until Sunday, but he’s not about to be the one to burst Christopher’s bubble, so he waits patiently.

“This is for you!” He takes out a ceramic project--Eddie thinks maybe it was supposed to be a bowl?--it’s deep and thin with grooves and twists and the words I love you daddy are carved inside, at the very bottom.

Eddie loves it. And tells him as much, picking it up like he’s admiring a stunning artifact, oohing and aahing and wrapping Christopher up in a big warm hug. “Aww buddy, this is the greatest gift I have ever gotten! Thank you!”

Christopher grins. “You say that every year!”

“Well you somehow manage to top yourself every year.” Eddie says, grinning back.

Christopher reaches back into his bag. “Bucky, this one’s for you!” he says, taking out another ceramic creation--a round mug this time.

On the outside it reads: Best Daddy with a big heart drawn next to the words. “I made it for you. I couldn’t fit a lot of words because it’s not as big as a bowl but the heart means I love you.” he explains.

Buck stands there in a stupor for a good five seconds before reaching out for the cup. His fingers trace the carved words slowly.

“Buck?” Eddie calls out, concern in his voice.

Christopher bites his lip. “You don’t like it?”

Buck shakes his head immediately. “No, I love it.”

“Then how come you’re crying?” he asks, tilting his head in confusion.

Buck blinks, realizing Christopher is right, there are tears spilling down his cheeks and right onto the ceramic mug. “Sorry, I just--” the more he tries to talk, the more choked up he gets. “This is really nice. Like, the nicest thing I’ve gotten, ever.” Buck swipes at the tears that just keep on coming. He’s so happy he’s overwhelmed with emotion.

Christopher leans into his leg and wraps his arms around his waist. “Really?”

Buck nods, “I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” he gently places the mug on top of the counter and bends down to pick Christopher up, engulfing him in a big embrace. “Thank you, Chris, I love it. And I love you.”

Christopher smiles, wide, “Love you too Daddy.”

Buck thinks his heart might actually burst.

#buddie #fic #9-1-1 fox #dad buck #buck eddie and christopher are a FAMILY UNIT AND NO ONE CAN CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE

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sanderssidesfanfiction · 4 years

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Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Eight

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

Roman woke up the next morning to a harsh knocking at his door and an unpleasant voice demanding his attention. “Veronica, open up, I know you’re still in there!”

Sitting up silently, Roman rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and went to answer the door, greeting his mother still in sleep shorts and an oversized sweatshirt, and wearing nothing else. “Do you need something, Mother?”

“You’re having breakfast with Rose and I,” his mother told him.

“I’m still exhausted, Mother—”

“—This is not a request, Veronica,” his mother said. “You will be having breakfast with us. You cannot run away from your duties and hide behind Damien forever.”

I can certainly try, Roman thought. “That’s not what I’m trying to do, Mother. I wish to know the man I’m going to marry, beyond his name and basic knowledge of his interests. If that means I’m running away from my duties, then I fail to see why you would set this up. You of all people should know I like to get to know people better than just surface knowledge if I’m going to be spending a lot of time with them. And Remus is the same, especially with romantic ventures. This shouldn’t come as a surprise to you.”

His mother huffed. “You still must have breakfast with us. You will be spending a lot of time around Rose, as well.”

“If you don’t mind me looking and feeling dead inside at breakfast, yeah, give me two minutes to get dressed,” Roman said, closing the door. He grabbed a T-shirt and looked through his suitcase, grimacing when he saw no more pairs of jeans. He had forgotten that his mother had made him pack all his feminine clothing first. So he put on one of the least form-fitting skirts and opened the door again. “Acceptable?” he asked.

“You should wear your hair up,” his mother said. “You look so much prettier with your hair up.”

Roman resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “May I have my phone back after breakfast, Mother? I want to add Damien to my contacts.”

His mother sighed. “I suppose,” she allowed. “But no talking to those online friends of yours! We got rid of those apps that you had on your phone that allowed you to talk to them, but I don’t want to see you redownloading them!”

Roman sighed. “Is that really necessary, Mother? They’re my friends, they deserve to know that I’m all right.”

“They were hurting you, Veronica, and I will not allow you to delude yourself about this transgender... thing any longer!”

Roman resisted the urge to flinch, and the urge to growl. “I’ll text Remus and see if he can tell them I’m all right. I haven’t been able to talk to them in a week, they’ll be worried.”

His mother sent him a glare, and Roman just shrugged. “I don’t want them thinking I’m dead, Mother.”

“And if they try to contact you outside those apps?” his mother asked.

“They can’t,” Roman said. “I never gave them my email address or my phone number. They’ll be relieved that I’m alive, and you can still isolate me from the only people who ever understood me.”

“Don’t act like that, Veronica,” his mother scolded. “You know everyone at home loves you. We just want you to see sense.”

Roman sighed in frustration. “Whatever,” he growled. “Let’s just have breakfast.”

His mother gave him a warning glare but they both walked down the halls to a dayroom where the Queen was already waiting. She smiled at Roman, and Roman offered a weak smile back. He really wasn’t looking forward to this. Not because he didn’t want to spend time with the Queen. She seemed really nice, and inviting, and she was more than accepting. But because his mother was there, he would be forced to stay in the closet during the entire conversation that was breakfast. And that pained Roman to no end.

No sooner did Roman and his mother sit down than Patton swooped in, carrying three plates on a tray in one hand, and a tea set in the other. Roman whistled. “Nice balancing act,” he said.

“Thank you, Your Highness!” Patton said, giving him a big, toothy smile. “It took many years of practice to get it down, but once I figured out how to place everything so no one side is topheavy, I could run through the halls with trays over my head and still keep everything in place!”

Roman grinned at Patton, ignoring the way his mother was giving him a searching stare. “Maybe you could teach me some time, that could be fun,” he said.

“I could enlist both you and Damien to help me in the kitchen and teach you both how to balance anything,” Patton laughed. “Although, I must admit, with Damien’s track record for balance, I’m not sure that would end well.”

Roman snickered and the Queen laughed a little, herself. “My boy is talented in many things, but balance is not one of them,” she said. “That seems to be where most of his art problems stem from. Not looking where he’s going, or misjudging how light or heavy a piece of pottery will be. Then he inevitably drops something and whatever he dropped proceeds to get in every nook and cranny in the room he was working in.”

Laughing outright at that, Roman said, “I certainly hope no one ever hands him a child, then.”

Patton snorted, said, “It’s a bit late for that, Your Highness,” and left.

Roman turned to the Queen and she sighed. “Yes, Damien has tried to hold children before. Family members, sitting down, of course, but he never could quite cradle them correctly, let alone pick them up.”

“Has he gotten any better at it?” Roman asked. “Any improvement? At all?”

“If he has improved, I haven’t seen it,” the Queen said with a slight smile.

“That might be a problem,” Roman’s mother cut in. “When you two have children, he’d have to learn how to balance very quickly, or risk not being able to hold them at all.”

Roman grimaced, busying himself with grabbing a plate of breakfast (pancakes, he was pleasantly surprised to find), and a cup full of tea. He hadn’t even considered that he would be expected to have children. If the thought of sex had repelled him yesterday, the thought of children today made his heart leap into his throat and his stomach sink into the depths. “I don’t know about children at this point, Mother, Damien and I aren’t even married yet.”

“It’s never too early to think about these things, Veronica,” his mother pressed.

“Yes, it is,” Roman said. “I may have played house as a child but that doesn’t mean I’m ready for a baby now. It’s...more than a little stressful to think about, so I’d appreciate it if we took the discussion in a different direction.”

“That works for me,” the Queen said. “Diana?”

“She will need to plan for it,” his mother protested.

“Yes, but there’s already an entire wedding to plan. One thing at a time, I think, will help Veronica adjust better.”

His mother sighed. “I suppose,” she allowed.

“So,” the Queen said. “I spoke with your mother quite a bit yesterday, Veronica, but I didn’t see very much of you. Is there anything you believe I should know about you?”

“Other than the obvious?” Roman asked with a little sniff of a laugh and a smirk. “I mean, my favorite color is red, so I very much enjoy the guest room you put me in. The turkey last night reminded me of childhood adventures with my brother, which I’m sure Damien mentioned in passing.”

“He did mention something about that this morning,” the Queen said, smiling. “About how the two of you traded places as children. I think it’s rather charming to hear about.”

“You might be the first person to call it charming,” Roman laughed. “But there are plenty more stories where that came from.”

“I can’t wait to hear them all,” the Queen said. “But for today, I’m afraid we might not have much time to talk about that. We need to go over your first dance, after all.”

“Oh, right,” Roman said. He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the thought of getting married. The thought of slow-dancing with Damien seemed even more foreign. “I mean, I can barely do a passable waltz, which may be a problem...”

“Not to worry, I’m sure Logan would be willing to teach you. He’s a man of many talents. It’s one of the reasons Damien chose him to be his advisor.”

“Huh,” Roman said, taking a sip of his tea. “The more you know.”

“Indeed,” the Queen said, and when she smiled, Roman saw where Damien got a majority of his grin from.

“So, as for music,” Roman’s mother said. “What are we thinking? It has to be something Veronica can be able to dance to, but I think it should also be sweet. Something that really seals the idea of love.”

“Damien suggested a song to me earlier when we were talking. It was the reason he came looking for me. It was by this band...Sleeping at Last, I think? And they did a remake of the song I’m Gonna Be. The five hundred miles song. I haven’t listened to it, yet. I was hoping we could listen to it together.”

“Excellent idea, Rose,” Roman’s mother said. “Veronica, you can pull it up on your phone, can’t you?”

When Roman had his phone offered to him, he practically snatched it out of his mother’s hands as he looked up the song. “He said he thought of you with this song, Veronica,” the Queen said. “He hoped he wasn’t being too forward when he chose this, but he said he thought it really was what he needed to say to you.”

Roman’s heart thudded in his chest when he heard that. He knew the song, but he had never heard the version the Queen was talking about. Still...Damien doing those sorts of things for Roman, it had Roman’s heart beating hard and fast. Someone being chivalrous to him, as him, and not as Veronica, made him feel weak at the knees.

The first notes of the song hit the air around them, and Roman instantly knew this would be a romantic version of the song, but then the singer came in, and he had to fight back tears. They sang so earnestly and with so much heart in the song that Roman wouldn’t believe anyone who told him that the singer didn’t have someone in mind when they sang it. “I love it,” he said, voice thick with tears. “This is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” the Queen said with a knowing smile. “Damien puts thought into every song he recommends for any occasion. It looks like he got this one perfectly.”

Roman nodded, locking his phone as the song ended, and slipped it into the pocket he had secretly sewn into this skirt when his mother first got it for him. She never liked that he altered any outfit she got him, but he would claim he needed at least one pocket and his mother would drop the subject, knowing that Roman would argue for his right for pockets until he was blue in the face. Roman took a breath and sipped his tea, trying to get rid of the tears that threatened to overflow and make him start crying.

As breakfast continued, Roman ignored every time his mother said “Veronica” in favor of thinking about Damien calling him Roman. A man who truly cared about him, using his name. It almost made the whole thing bearable.

His mother kept going on about the kind of dress Roman might be wearing at the wedding, and Roman noticed even the Queen looked somewhat uncomfortable by this point. “I do wish the tailor would have let me see his designs,” his mother sighed. “I tried to talk to him last night as he was leaving, but he said nothing.”

“Remy doesn’t like sharing sketches of his ideas, because what he does might change radically from the sketch to what the final result is,” the Queen said. “He doesn’t want anyone to get attached to an idea he realizes no longer works.”

His mother seemed somewhat appeased, but she still sighed. “I would have liked to be there, regardless. I do want to be present for the first fitting.”

Roman’s eyes flicked over to the Queen in a panic. The Queen hummed. “I don’t know, Diana. Remy doesn’t like too many people hovering around him.”

“I’ll stay out of the way,” Roman’s mother insisted.

“Actually, Mother,” Roman said. “I had talked to Remy last night about a possible surprise about the dress. A surprise specifically designed for you and Father, and I don’t want to ruin it by showing you before the wedding day.”

His mother sent him a searching stare. “And this surprise isn’t risqué? You’re not making the dress provocative or otherwise unacceptable?”

“Of course not, you know I hate when I wear anything that shows off my body like that,” Roman said, shaking his head. “We were actually discussing...” He forced back a shudder. “We were talking about designs in the lace he considered using. Among other things.”

His mother’s eyes lit up. “You’re considering the lace after all?”

“Remy knows ways to make it less scratchy than what I’ve dealt with in the past,” Roman lied. “And if what he designs is more comfortable than what I’ve worn in the past, then I will be more than happy to wear it.”

His mother hugged him, and Roman allowed his discomfort to show on his face just as long as his mother couldn’t see him. The Queen winced in sympathy. When his mother pulled away, he reset back to his neutral face and let his mother grin at him. “I knew you would see sense, Veronica!” she exclaimed.

“I don’t know how wearing lace would be me ‘seeing sense,’” Roman said with a shrug. “But if it makes you happy...”

As his mother took over the conversation, once again gushing about her excitement for the wedding, Roman slowly retreated in on himself until he was practically huddled in the chair he was using. He wanted to be anywhere but here. He’d settle for some place in the castle that his mother wasn’t, at this point. He just wanted to leave. Now. Roman stood, clearing his throat. “I’m afraid I need to use the restroom, as exciting as this conversation is,” he said.

“Oh, that’s quite all right, dear, I was about to suggest we head to the ballroom and send someone to fetch Damien so the two of you could practice your first dance,” the Queen said. “The bathroom is right down the hall, and anyone in the castle can tell you where the ballroom is if you get lost.”

Roman nodded and left quickly, rushing through the halls and finding refuge in the bathroom as he took a shaky breath and gripped the counter with white knuckles. “You can get through it, Roman,” he breathed, staring at himself in the mirror. He hated the long brown hair he was forced to sport, now falling into his face, but he reminded himself he would be getting it cut the day of the wedding. “Damien even said you could get through it. It’ll hurt like hell, but if he thinks you can do it, and Remus thinks you can do it, and even the tailor thinks you can do it, then no matter what doubts you have, you can get through this. It doesn’t have to be unscathed. That’s what therapy later down the road is for.” He started to laugh slightly hysterically at that. “You just have to get through it. Reach the finish line. Everything that comes after that is after that. Not something you have to worry about now.”

Leaning back to assess himself in the mirror, Roman splashed some water on his face and took a deep breath, leaving the room and heading in the direction he assumed the ballroom was.

Eventually, he was rewarded with the entrance to a rather large room, with that horrendous bright yellow covering the walls. Damien was standing there, waiting for him. “Good morning, my dear,” Damien said. “I managed to convince our mothers to step away for a moment, so that we can talk alone, and get the awkwardness out of the way without them.”

Roman offered a smile and nodded. “Sounds good,” he said.

Logan approached the two of them from somewhere that Roman couldn’t see, and said, “Shall we get the positioning done?”

Damien nodded with a small smile and Roman offered a nervous grin. “I apologize in advance for crushing your toes,” he told Damien.

“No matter, my dear,” Damien said. “Did you listen to the song I told my mother about?”

“I did, and I think it’s perfect,” Roman said, genuinely smiling. “Honestly, the thought that anyone would do something like that for me is almost unbelievable, but if you think it applies...well, I’m certainly not going to say no to such a beautiful song.”

Damien offered Roman a grin. “Perfect,” he said. “I was hoping you would enjoy it. Logan will take us through the steps of a waltz, and once you think you have it down, we can practice with the music.”

“First, you two need to get your hands in the right positions,” Logan said.

“I know this part, at least,” Roman breathed, taking Damien’s left hand in his right, and putting his other hand on Damien’s shoulder, and Damien got in position as well.

“All right. Now, let’s take the first step. Damien, you’ll lead. That means you take a left step forward, and Roman takes a right step back.”

They did so, and all the while Roman’s heart was thudding in his chest. He really didn’t want to trip Damien up.

“Very good. Now, Damien, you’ll take your right foot and move it forward in a diagonal, and Roman, you take your left and move back in the same manner,” Logan instructed.

And no sooner did they try it than Roman accidentally kicked Damien in the shins. Damien winced. “Gah, I’m so sorry!” Roman exclaimed.

“It’s not a problem, my dear, let’s keep going,” Damien said.

“This next part should be easy, you bring your feet back together. Roman, this will be your right, and Damien, your left.”

Roman nodded and together, they made the step. Roman giggled nervously.

“Now, we will repeat these same three steps in reverse,” Logan said. “And try not to kick anyone in the process.”

Roman stuck his tongue out at Logan, but looking down at his feet, he managed to not kick Damien in the shins again. “All right, that will be the bulk of the dance,” Logan said, walking over and forcing Roman’s chin up. “But you can’t look at your feet as you dance, Roman.”

“That’s going to be hard, and result in a lot of kicking,” Roman said, turning red in embarrassment.

“Be that as it may, you cannot stare at your feet for the duration of the dance, so try to keep your head up as you practice. Now let’s try again,” Logan said.

Tag List: @lunareclipse-13 @sanders-sides-crofters @blushy-gigglee-mess @wannacrymetoo @kaytikitty @magicalspacepanunicorn @bootsinthesun @pricklyfish777 @flowersanddinosaurs @leiasolo77 @birdybabybird @enby-phoenix @luna–28 @justagaygoose @the-prince-and-the-emo @fandomsandanythingelse @randommuffinyt @snekky-boi @thesoftestlittlepuffballwegot @twilight-trix @abby5577 @escalatingtoofast @friendlyfacestabbing @remus-is-stinky @foggybanditdreampeanut @ghostskull300 @sprinklestheditty @canvas-the-florist @askthesnake @samuel-the-gay @determination-saved @beyondthestacks @juicy-cashew @loganpatton @lilbeanblr @kittyboof8 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @sanders-trash-4ever @hamilspntrash @swords-and-kittens @phantomfander @narniasfinestavengingsociopath @rjmeta @ambersky0319 @anni-cat-flower @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @nafsbluebery @redisawerewolf23 @voidvirgil

#roceit #sanders sides fanfiction #roman sanders #deceit sanders #logan sanders #royal growing pains #our creations

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stattic-writes · 4 years

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BD: Father’s Day

https://statticscribbles.tumblr.com/post/639099629845233664/masterlist

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

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Survey #285

"do you have the time to listen to me whine about nothing and everything all at once?”

What does your car smell like? You assume I have a car. Would you ever let anybody else drive your car? ^ Have you ever met someone in person who you first met on the internet? Do you have plans to do that anytime soon? Yes, Sara. I want to visit her again, but right now I have no clue when that will happen. I have another friend that wants me to shoot her wedding that was planned for this year, but it was delayed to an unknown date, so. What was the last thing you used a blender for? A margarita. Have you ever got into an argument with a stranger on social media? Do you remember what it was about? Yep. There's been a couple. Has COVID had any impact on your Christmas plans this year? What’s going to change or be different to normal? Yes. Mom and I aren't coming while Ashley's inlaws are there at her house, and then I think we're going to my other sister's since she wants to cook? I've only really overheard Mom over the phone, I'm not 100%. I'm just. Going with it. What’s your favourite flavor of cake? Are you any good at making that kind of cake? Probably red velvet, or just double chocolate. I dunno. I love cake. I don't cook, though. Are you currently under any COVID-related restrictions where you live? Are people generally following the rules? Well, you're SUPPOSED to wear a fucking mask, but "it's a hoax" and "you can't make me" fuckheads don't listen, and it's poorly-enforced. You see people without them all the time. Do you still watch cartoons? I'm not opposed, I just don't watch television. Is anyone else in the same room as you right now? What is that person up to? No. Do you use Pinterest? Ha, I get most of my (unedited) avatars from there. It also gives me some pose ideas for photography. Are you wearing earrings? Ugh, no. I absolutely hate how the first holes stretched from heavy earrings. I need to get a proper tapering set if I want to actually use gauges (mind you, very small) so they look even semi-good again. I don't wear any in the second/upper holes because I think it just looks weird with nothing in the first. Do you know any sign language? Not anymore. In elementary school, we did do a play however where in one of the songs, we signed the lyrics. I remember zero. Have you ever gone on a service trip to an underprivileged country? No. Which breed of dog do you find most scary? None. Ever been to a pottery class? Not particularly, no. I've made pottery in normal art classes multiple times, though. When you were young, did you ever pretend to “marry” somebody? I have no idea. I don't have a specific memory. Don’t you just find it annoying when people get too much plastic surgery? Oh, fuck off. Is it your body? Is it there to boost YOUR confidence? Then your opinion doesn't fuckin matter. Are you the type who usually plays it safe? Yep. Who do you think about most? It's certainly not willingly, but Jason. PTSD kinda engraved his presence in my brain. How’s your grandmother? Both are dead. What’s your favourite type of cloud? Big, tall, and poofy cumulonimbus ones. Do you have a birthmark? Where? Does it look like anything? Yeah, a slightly darker brown blotch on the side of my right forearm, near the elbow. If you were blind for the rest of your life… what would you miss seeing the most? Probably people smiling. My nieces' and nephew's came to mind first. What is your most disappointing moment in life? I've been living it for years now. I'm not who I wanted or thought I would be at all. What is the best reward anyone can give you? Validation lmao. What is your favorite animal? List three adjectives to explain your choice. Meerkats, always. God, I can barely boil it down to three words. Loyal, complex, and brave will have to do. What is your favorite color? List three adjectives to explain your choice. Pink. Soft, pretty, gentle. What do you consider to be the most valuable thing you own: when you were a child/teenager/now? As a child, my big plastic crocodile named Marlin (yes, after the Finding Nemo character) that was the "main character" in my games of make-believe. As a teen, probably Rebel, the stuffed meerkat Jason gave me. Now, it's absolutely the pebble I got upon "graduation" from my partial hospitalization program. What’s the kindest act you have ever seen done? I'm not sure; I've seen a good deal. Thinking of only the ones I've seen in-person, uhhhh... wait. A couple days before my overdose, in desperation, I called Jason's house in the middle of the night wanting to talk to him. His mom answered, and she talked to me for hours with such patience and kindness to try and calm me down. I miss her a lot. Is Frozen one of your favorite Disney movies? No, I never really liked it. If you were an explorer, would you rather explore the Arctic Circle, Antarctica, or Alaska? Ohhh, Alaska. It's gorgeous and at least not absolutely frigid everywhere. How many blankets do you sleep with in the winter? I usually just have my usual thick comforter, but if I'm seriously cold, I'll grab another smaller one to wrap myself in underneath the big one. Do you know of anyone who was in labor or gave birth to a baby during a major snowstorm? HAHA my mama w/ me. Do you enjoy eggnog during the winter - with or without alcohol? EW. Do you dress any of your pets in seasonal/holiday apparel? No; I really dislike the concept of dressing your animals unless it's truly for their own benefit/warmth. Who was the last person to give you a gift? What was the reason for it? Uhhhhh. I have no idea. Are you a good cook? If so, who taught you? What’s your favourite thing to cook? NOOOOOOO. When was the last time something in your house broke? Did you manage to fix it or did you need to buy a replacement? Ugh, my laptop is fucked up. It's either the charger port, charger itself, or Mom thinks perhaps the battery. Her friend's husband is gonna look at it after Christmas. Is any part of your body hurting right now? What caused that pain? For once my legs aren't hurting. They almost always do from either muscle atrophy or them having been still for too long. The last time you made a sandwich, what did you put in there? It was just a normal 'ole peanut butter sandwich. What’s your favorite time of day? What’s your favorite thing to do at that time? First thing in the morning, because it feels like a new start. I like watching the sky change from pinkish to blue while I'm just sitting in bed checking everything. Where did you go the last time you left your house? I rode with Mom to her doctor's appointment. I didn't go in w/ her for obvious reasons, I just wanted to go on a ride and listen to music. If you eat steak, how do you like it cooked? What sauces or sides do you like to go with it? It has to be medium well. Idk what sauces are cooked into it that I like, because I don't make it. I like fries with steak, and probably Sara's mom's mashed potatoes would go well, haha. Do you prefer sweet or savory pancakes? What toppings do you have on them? I can't imagine me liking savory pancakes... I just like the usual: butter (not mandatory tho) and syrup. Are you someone who cracks their joints a lot? Which one(s) do you tend to crack and click the most? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NO NO NO, I HATE THE NOISE SO MUCH. My lower spine pops a lot, though. Some fingers occasionally, too. Have you ever taken medication or tablets to help you sleep? Is this something you do on a regular basis? Yeah, I was taking Melatonin to fight insomnia for quite a while. I only stopped it because my mom was theorizing that it may have been making my nightmares worse, because her dad had AWFUL nightmares on it. I don't know if it did or didn't foor me, honestly. For you, what’s the worst thing about getting up in the morning? What about the worst thing about going to bed tonight? Knowing in the back of my mind that despite my hope, today's going to be the same as yesterday. I dread most nights the process of lying down and actually falling asleep, because it can take hours. Do you prefer regular or diet soft drinks? Not only do I think diet sodas taste bad, but the artificial sweetener gives me awful headaches, anyway. What do you tend to wear if you’re just hanging about the house for the day? I'm only always in my pjs. When was the last time you dyed your hair? Did you do it yourself or get it done at a hairdresser? Ugh... it's been a very, very long time. It was done by a hairdresser, but per usual, the color didn't stick well. I am DYING to bleach my hair so I can dye it pastel pink, light silver, or like a creamsicle orange. I edited some pictures of myself to "try" these colors on, and omg I loved them all. Does having to wear a mask stop you doing things? Is this because you struggle wearing one or you just don’t like it? Not really, no. I barely go anywhere at all though, so I have Have you ever witnessed a car accident? Or have you perhaps been involved in one yourself? Were you at fault? Yes; yes; no. How many books do you read in a year? Do you enjoy reading or do you have to really force yourself to sit down and read? VERY few. I've only just gotten back into semi-regularly reading since Sara got me into Wings of Fire. I have one friend though that is an INCREDIBLE bookworm; she keeps track of how many books she's read in a year, and she's already beyond one a day. It's incredible. If you have pets, where did they come from? A breeder, a rescue or maybe a friend who bred their pet? Roman came from Ashley's inlaws'. They have like an infestation of cats needing to be spayed, so they didn't at all mind letting me have one because I'd been wanting a cat for a long time. I love my baby boy so much. Venus came from The Gourmet Rodent, a snake breeding (and F/T rat provider, as the name suggests) business from Florida. I highly recommend them. Their customer service was fantastic when I was worried about Venus not eating. They even checked up with me a few months following my emails to ensure she was doing well. Have you ever seen an episode of My 600lb Life? No. I absolutely NEVER could. As an obese person who's been fighting her fucking ass off to lose weight for years, I don't want to be further depressed. Do you feel bad when someone asks you to hang out and you say no? Oh yes I do. Ngl, if I don't want to hang for whatever reason, I'm the kind that makes up an excuse to not seem *as* "rude" (quotations bc it's technically not rude at all, anxiety just tells me it is). When was the last time you turned down plans with someone? What did you decide to do instead? Ummmm I'm not sure. Have you ever had any “unusual” or exotic pets? If you could own any animal, what would it be and why? Do you consider iguanas or Chinese water dragons as "exotic/unusual?" Nothing stranger than that, really. I would never, ever own a truly exotic animal that wouldn't do well in captivity. I do however pretty desperately want to rescue an opposum one day, though. I positively adore them; they're my second-favorite animal. How often do you wash your hair? I don't even have a regular schedule for that anymore, honestly... I have to every time I shower because my hair gets oily FAST, but I try to put off showers as long as I can handle now because of how bad my selfcare has been for multiple reasons... What have you found the hardest about the current pandemic? Not seeing an end in sight because people are fucking dumb. Shit's not going to get better unless things drastically change. And what about the easiest? Has anything improved in your life because of what’s happened? Certainly nothing has improved. Not much has changed for me, considering I barely ever left the house to begin with. If you have multiple pets, do they get along with each other? Are they related or even the same species? They ignore each other, really. Surprisingly, even. Roman will sit on my bed and watch Venus slither about occasionally if she's out, even meerkat pose haha, and playful as he is, it's unexpected that he *does* mostly ignore her. What was the last meal you ate? Did you have anything good? Breakfast; I had Special K cereal. I've finally started to get back on track with eating okay. Do you live somewhere where strangers say hi to you in the street? Would you like to live somewhere like that? Where we live now, if you pass someone outside in the car, it's normal and really expected to give a little wave. That's very normal here in the South though, really; you don't just have to be in your own neighborhood. Have you ever tried any of those meal replacement shakes? The chocolate Equate ones are normal in my diet, actually. They're really not bad at all and played a big role in me losing ~60lbs before. Funnily enough, I haven't found a popular name brand I like, though. Cheap stuff isn't always bad. Do you make up silly nicknames for your pets or family members? "Silly" ones, not really, besides Roman. I call him "weirdo" and "crazy" a lot, but nothing truly unique. What’s your favorite thing to take photographs of? Are you actually any good at photography? Nature or boudoir (only shot it once, but I love it and the confidence it gives people). Being as modest as possible, I honestly do think I'm pretty good at it. Do you have anything interesting planned for the rest of the day? How about for tomorrow or the weekend? I haven't had anything interesting planned in eons, it seems like. Are you going to take the vaccine for COVID once it becomes available? Once it proves to be reliable and safe, hell yes. I'm doing my goddamn part in ending this shit. How much housework have you done lately? Is this more or less than usual? A bit more than usual since I haven't finished decorating my room since moving... I've been doing it very slowly and gradually. I need to just finish it already, I'm just so unmotivated. What gifts are you hoping to get for your next birthday (or Christmas, whichever one is coming up next)? I'm fucking dying to get my tat redone/improved. Been waiting since LAST Christmas when I didn't get to use my own gifted money. Do you suffer from any form of motion sickness? No. Do you contribute regularly to any Facebook groups at all? "I’m a member of plenty, but hardly ever post." <<<< Same. I react to posts a lot, though. Just don't really make my own. When was the last time you weighed yourself? Were you happy with the numbers you saw? Ugh... when I went to the doctor I think last week. I knew it'd be bad, but the verification fucking sucked. Since moving, I've gained ~30lbs. Have you got any chronic health issues? What do you do to try and manage them as best you can? YIKES I am a CATASTROPHE. I've got a dictionary of mental health issues that I'm not gonna go through individually, but I deal with them via prescription medications and therapy and sheer will. Who taught you how to drive? My driver's ed teacher. It was mandatory in HS. What was your high school mascot? A firebird. Did you go to your senior prom? Yes. What did you do after graduation? I very briefly went to a community college. What was your first job? GameStop sales associate. If my social anxiety wasn't fucking shit, I probably would have liked it. What did you want to be when you grew up? Somewhat in order: paleontologist, vet, movie director, game designer, animal biologist, video editor (VERY brief), and photographer. Writer, poet, and artist were always something I wanted to do in my free time OR full time if I was lucky. Do you remember the first time you drank a beer? I've never tried beer and don't want to. It smells fucking awful, and because my dad is a recovered alcoholic who was addicted to that in specific, I just want nothing to do with it. Did you ever try cigarettes? No. I have absolutely never understood the appeal, but with a very addictive personality and wild anxiety, I never wanted to risk it, anyway. How did you spend your summers growing up? LOADS of swimming in the pool, jumping on the trampoline, and just playing outside in general. If you could change anything from your teenage years, would you? I'd absolutely change how I found happiness only in Jason. Do you remember your first time? No, because at that time, I didn't really realize it was sex. I know that sounds weird, like "how would you not know?", but just trust me. I don't feel like retrospecting on it. I do remember our first *kiss*-kiss, though. How much did you make per hour at your first job? I don't recall. Favorite home-cooked meal growing up? I looooved spaghetti. Favorite place to eat out growing up? McDonald's, duh, lol. Did your parents live in a different country before you were born? No. They were from different states, though. Do you have a preferred coffee brand? Don't like coffee. Have you ever dated someone who was terrible with money? No. How often do you paint your nails? Never. Do you know anyone who's related to a current or former world leader? Not that I know of. Do you do your own taxes, or do you hire a professional? I don't pay taxes because I'm unemployed. What is something you don't have any natural talent for? Speaking. At all. What is something you frequently forget? "Numbers." <<<< BIG fat same. How do you feel about your body? How much I hate it is on my mind literally every waking moment of my life to some degree. Who is someone you would like to get to know better? So I have this Facebook friend Courtlynn who seems very similar to me, and I'd love to get to know her better. We interact via posts here and there, but have never seriously talked. What's your opinion on assisted suicide? I am very much for it when a person is in serious pain and recovery is not possible. Like one of my greatest nightmares is being paralyzed from the neck down, and I stg I would spite whichever fucker had jurisdiction over me living. That would be absolute torture for me. At what point do you consider a relationship to be "long-term?" A year, so long as you were consistently together. Stable. What jobs did your parents have when you were growing up? My dad's been a mailman my entire life, and he had a second job at Lowe's for a while as a carpenter. He hated it. Mom worked with computer data at the hospital when I was very young, and then she was an assitant and special needs teacher for a long time. Do they still have these jobs? Or different jobs? Or have they retired? ^ about Dad. It's his only job now. Mom is currently on disability. Do you have a cell contract plan, or are you on a pre-paid plan? Would you believe me if I said I'm unsure? Haha. I use a Tracfone, and my mom takes care of whatever plan comes with that, so idk. Would your parents be okay with you dating someone of another race? Mom, absolutely. I'm unsure about Dad. I mean he wouldn't *seriously* care so long as they were good to me, but I think he might still be kinda racist. Or he just jokes about it a lot (which should not be joked about, btw). Do you like when friends stop by unexpectedly? "No way lol. I’m very much of a loner and want to be “prepared” to spend time with people." <<<< Absolutely this. How strong are your feelings for the last person you kissed? I love her very, very much. What was the last thing someone else bought for you? Food, I'm sure. Are you attracted to the last person you exchanged numbers with? I haven't seen a picture of her in years, so I have no idea. I remember she was beautiful, though. Is music a daily part of your life? Not daily, no. Some days I only watch YT videos instead of listen to music. What do you think of country music? Not a fan at all. It's ironic considering it was my favorite genre as a little kid. There's the occasional country song I like (mostly ones from my childhood, though), but those are few and far between. Tim McGraw, now, I love. Did you go to your high school’s graduation? Yeah, even though I didn't want to. I didn't care enough about the actual ceremony. Who was the last person to message you on Facebook? What would you do if that person told you they have feelings for you? That would be the woman I took family pictures for. She's married and we barely know each other, so I can assure you she doesn't. When you apply your make-up, do you do it in a specific order? On the very rare occasion I wore makeup, yes. Eyeliner, usually eyeshadow, mascara, and most rarely, black lipstick. Does it matter to you if your significant other smokes? Yes. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Mom, I think. Do you like where you are in life right now? HA. Is your mom overbearing? No.

#survey #quiz #questions #questionnaire #lyrics: ''basket case'' by green day

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lilytcyip · 4 years

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December 31st, 2019

1.3 tera v w/ rjin & ggao

1.4 cactus & la foret w/ jng

1.8 talked it out with jng ; tried to understand that if i were happy, what more could you ask for

1.11 cyns bday dinner

1.11 craft beer w/ aleung & lwong

1.13 arisu & standing egg with efeng & aleung ; drove on highway for the first time

1.18 west dineout w/ annie pkp

1.19 glass w/ fifi

2.10 first snow of the year

2.3 cny lunch at home with the fam - tong yuen & poon choi

2.4 mooseknuckles - grateful

2.5 lunar new year

2.16 hangiout with mamayip & sis: beta 5, fixing the parka, meetfresh, miku sushi dindin

2.17 mom leaving for 2 months, wandering earth with the yips

2.19 happy hour cactus w/ fifi

2.20 kokoro lunch & shopping w/ rjin

2.20 so hyang w/ veda & nwu

2.21 black been noodles & tonkatsu lunch & usagi matcha sweets w/ ewong

2.22 green leaf sushi & grounds for coffee w/ vtan

2.25 sushi mura w/ acao ; larry berg planes and kisses for the first time

3.13 mental health talk w/ nwu & tchiu + jamjar

3.15 virtuous pie & nanas green tea w/ rjin

3.16 wine night w/ claw, aleung & fsyal

3.17 tabom & stanely park w/ jerpilla

3.23 pool & rc shopping with jyang

4.3 studying with jyang on campus & langara bye

4.9 studying with jyang at my house

4.18 ramen danbo & official date

4.20 so hyang & off the grid waffles w/ ayip

4.26 sci ning off w/ aleung, claw, fsyal, lwong & mcheung

4.27 clay llama terra pot class

4.29 so hyang budae jjigae & yifang w/ ewong

4.30 rc shopping & sushi lover with the yips

5.1 maenam, kits beach & rain or shiine ice cream w/ rjin

5.2 our first little tiff & being called chubby by mlo

5.3 shopping w/ vchan, aleung & fsyal

5.7-5.11 LA trip

5.8 LACMA & melrose & century city field

5.9 warner bros tour

5.10 malibu

5.28-6.1 hokkaido, japan

5.29 a 2-floor hotel with own onsen

5.31 otaru food adventures

6.1 doraemon painting & royce airport

6.2 macau: got scammed by taxi & lost luggage

6.7-6.15 inner mongolia & beijing

6.18 first co op offer

6.21 fire port party at fifis house

6.29 pottery painting w lwong, aleung, vchan, fsyal

7.5 brunch w/ rjin at jethro’s fine grub, baker & table

7.6 nwu’s birthday dindin at coast, hangout with aleung & nwu at nightingale

7.14 leavenworth cherries

7.17 brunch w/ rjin at OEB

7.19 nightmarket w/ jyang, mlaw, rjin

7.21 beach day w/ aleung, fsyal & lwong; hy’s with fam

7.24 chau veggies w/ acao

7.27 shiok & icy bar w/ ewong

8.3 first day of work at doctors office

8.4 escape room w/ vchan, fsyal & jyang; bowling & anh and chi

8.17 dindin w/ fsyal, aleung & tlim; double date walks at olympic village with ancas

8.18 - 8.19 kelowna

8.18 polar grove & penticton lazy river, mission hill

8.19 kayaking, quail’s gate

8.24 lit night at fifis house with the girls and boys

8.25 aleung’s bday harrison trip

8.27 work shopping & nuba w/ fsyal

8.28 sleepover w/ rjin

8.29 brunch w/ aleung, moii cafe chill with fsyal too

9.3 first day of co op work

9.7 grave of the fireflies & wildtale cuddles

9.14 eric chou meet & greet

9.19 amandarachlee neg comment and posted my encouragement on her story

10.5 maiko parfait & shopping w/ jyang, earls with the amigos

10.18 gmen & oncecake: melody, rillakuma, card & collage

10.24 dark table w/ rjin

11.7 moii after work

12.15 baking custard souffle pancakes w/ ewong

12.18 office christmas party & bbt w/ slim

12.19 glow

12.21 fifi’s christmas party

12.22 christmas market w/ rjin: churros & chimney cake

12.23 psyc team secret santa & mahjong

12.25 christmas dindin at market by jean-georges

12.26 birthday dindin at zeferelli

12.27 ring & birthday dinner at brix and mortar w/ jyang

12.28 skated alone, worked out, baked & dindin at botanist

looking back at it now, i definitely went out a lot more compared to previous years LOL i had some struggles in january, and at multiple points in my life i blamed myself for being ungrateful, for seeking more when i already had so much in life compared to other people. my friends were there for me and i wouldnt have been able to live through it without them. then again, during reading break in february, i got myself into the same hot mess and i was sad about it for a week and i blamed myself for getting so attached so quickly. because of these experiences, my expectations were v low and i didnt really expect anything when i talked to jyang, what they say really is true, you get it the moment you stop seeking for it. it comes and find you (: the 3 most important that happened this year is burbur, co op job & me getting more comfortable around doggs; this is a big deal !! i actually like cuddling dogs and i feel less scared of them as long as i have some time to get used to them!! im proud of myself for making progress with my phobia! after i started my co op job, bc i didnt have a lot to do, i felt like i wasnt actively contributing to my workplace and that i was very useless. i still feel the same way now, but i think i am slowly getting used to it. thankfully, my coworkers are VERY nice and i enjoy working around them. while i did not get a different position for january, im still grateful that i got an extended placement. nonetheless, meeting with the different PIs and sumeet pointed me in the right direction of looking for nserc / volunteering opportunities when i do go back to school. AND ofc burbur! im grateful that we were able to be there for each other for the past 8 months, both the ups and downs and i am so so thankful that we’re understanding and patient with each other, as we help each other learn along the way and help each other become a better version of ourselves. this companionship is better than i have asked for and i always remind myself to focus on the important things rather than the minor inconveniences. this year, in terms of fitness goals, ive been doing really well before asia. but ever since i came back, it all went downhill and i gained back all the weight that i lost this year year LOL so in 2020, one of my biggest goal is to eat healthy again, and workout more consistently. getting a job in sept kinda interfered with my progress too, bc i was so tired after work, even when i wasnt doing anything and i stressed eat bc i felt terrible. a lot of diff factors made me feel super stressed, and the fact that i wasnt eating clean / exercising reguarly made me feel worse about the whole situation ): so in 2020, maintaining a healthy lifestyle will be one of my top priorities and gifting myself a healthy body is one of greatest things i can do for myself. this also contributed to the lack of journalling near the end of the year, it felt like bc i wasnt doing the things i was “supposed to do”, i just felt so bad whenever i couldnt tick off that particular habit whenever i fill in my trackers. but tonight, i watched this video and it talked about habits should be for awareness, not for self-hate or self-loathing. this is something that i need to keep in mind. ever since april really, the issue of leaving my house and meeting up with my friends have always stressed me in fear of dealing with passive aggressiveness with my mom lool everytime i get inviited to plans, i just get anxiety about having to tell her about it LOL and even when im out, having a msg/ call for her freaks me out in fear that she will get mad at me for being home late and etc and fifi really woke me up with her words, i should just care less LOL i need to stop caring so much about what she thinks, bc at the end of the day, this IS my life and if i never make any changes, i will never be able to grow and be independent. i think this pree much sums up all my events and emotions in 2019, the last year of the 2010s. in the next decade, a lot of things will happen as i will be in my 20s - 30s, where new opportunities will arise, and graduate uni, do my masters, find a job, maybe even marry and move out LOL the 2020s will definitely be an impt decade, but just for next year i want to:

1. understand that i am old enough to make choices, and in general, care less about what she thinks

2. at the same time, i want to appreciate and be grateful for what my mom, dad and annie have done for me; a lot of the times, i feel like i take them for granted just bc i know they will always be there for me and this is not how you should treat your biggest supporters

3. trust that everything will workout in the end, while you may not be able to envision what you career / life would be like when youre 30, you can definitely take small steps and move towards your goal

4. be mindful of what i eat and exercise regularly (4x hiit & cardio a week) ; treats & sweets in moderation; use those habit trackers for awareness, not for self-loathing / self-hate

5. create art regularly, read more and at least do 5 duolingos every week!

every year, time just seems to go by faster and faster and i feel scared at times. as i type this, theres only 8 minutes left of this decade LOL so in 2020, continue to live in the moment, be present, cherish those that are around you, and have faith that everything will come together, one piece at a time. at the same time, always rmb that you can make small changes to be a better version of yourself, whenever & however you want and this is the 1 thing that other people can’t stop you from doing!

#diary #personal #thoughts #last post of 2019

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thebrotherswholoved · 5 years

Text

dreaming a festive little dream

summary: You always look back on the bad times when you're standing in front of everything you've always wanted. Perhaps Santa brought him that astronomy book he wanted as a kid, or maybe his gift already arrived and he'll be reminded of how lucky he truly is.

content: dadchesters, parent!wincest, family bonding, only fluff/a bit of saddening nostalgia I guess, kiddos causing trouble, domestic bants

read on Ao3

Sam would be lying if he said he'd always adored Christmas.

For the longest time, it was the complete opposite. He abhorred the holiday and those stupid ornaments, tacky trees, and annoying carolers that would come to the motel door every year without fail, even though they never spent any two Christmases in the same place. Class parties were upsetting and made seven-year-old Sam run to the bathroom with tears rolling down his pudgy little cheeks at the sight of all the parents surprising their children at school. The teachers would forget about him and continue pouring green and red Kool Aid into cheap Dixie cups while he plucked at the strings of his short-sleeve, too-thin-for-winter shirt in a dingy restroom to make the tears stop. In fact, the only reason he'd return to class at all is because those candy apples, mince pies, and dollar store chocolates would make up the only meal he'd had in two days. Dean would try to feed him at the room after school but he'd say that he had lunch there so his older brother would feed himself at last in lieu of sacrificing yet another meal for his chubby little sibling.

Sam would ignore the rumbling in his stomach when he woke up on Christmas Day to find stolen presents under the dining table and an air freshener tree taped to the side before rushing to hug and kiss Dean's eleven-year-old cheeks and watching as he tried to hide his frost-nipped fingers from view, which happened without a doubt the night prior when he stole gifts from the neighbors. He wasn't as oblivious as Dean had hoped, after all.

John would call them for four and a half minutes tops and tell them to clean the guns and pack their things to leave in a few hours when he'd return, but not after a trip to a dive bar decked out with tinsel and Nat King Cole playing on the radio, which would be the only thing to remind him that he missed another Christmas with his sons—not that he cared. The blood of some ghoul or monster would stain his hands when he handed over a twenty dollar bill to pay off his tab, which is twice as much money that he gave to his boys for a few days. He beat the monster and to him, that's all that mattered.

Twenty-eight-year-old Sam Winchester wakes up with a start from his nightmare and shudders at the lingering feeling of cold numbness in his nose from the blizzard his mind had flung him into for the night. He sits up and expects the familiar chilly air and lack of insulation in another podunk motel room and to feel the abrasiveness of scratchy ninety-nine cent sheets on a Dateline oh-god-I-hope-that's-paint mattress, but finds nothing of the sort. Thirty dollar flannel sheets layer over him and shield him from the thermostat-regulated seventy-six degree room, which is painted a nice grey instead of the peeling wallpaper he saw in his dream.

The clock on his bedside table reads just before ten o'clock, a time which is verified by the gentle sweeping of sunshine bleeding into the room through the curtains. The room is splashed a golden yellow by the rays of light and this bright intrusion prompts him to stand up onto his feet and begin walking through his house. His dream created a film inside his mind and he feels foreign in this beautiful home—no empty beer bottles or pizza boxes, no flickering lights or broken taps, no neighbors going at it like animals in heat or pipes squeaking under the pressure of water coursing through their copper interiors. The chair rail is painted white and matches the molding strips; there are pictures framed on the walls of children—their children—taken professionally for birthdays and Christmases and anniversaries; and there’s a clanging sound coming from what’s presumably the kitchen given the open layout, followed by a gruff voice laughing and shushing the source of the sound.

Sam looks down at what he’s wearing and it all starts coming back to him: his red and white striped pyjamas were pointed out to him as a joke by Dean in a Pottery Barn catalogue but were bought anyway, the smell of pine needles and spice are coming from the tree in the corner of the living room, and the noises are indeed resonating from the kitchen. Something is dropped onto the floor with a bang which makes him jump, and he concludes that it’s not just him who’s startled by the sound of the shrill screech and gruff ejaculation that follows.

“Son of a—a gun!” Dean places a hand on his chest and catches his breath after the scare. He then looks at his and Sam’s children with an incredulous glare. “Which of you little monsters just took twenty years off my life?”

Sam leans against the entryway wall and watches as their oldest, Caden, smiles with maniacal eyes and raises his hand, making his Dad roll his eyes.

“Of course!” He swings the four-year-old into his arms as they both laugh, Caden letting out helpless giggles as Dean tickles him. “You are a little rascal.”

His eyes then shift to his and Dean’s youngest child, Paisley, who shrieks and claps her hands when she sees him, climbing out of her chair and waddling with bowed little legs over to him. She calls for “Daddy” and he meets her in the middle of the room where he scoops her up in his arms and sees her bright green eyes light up with glee when he pokes her chubby middle. Paisley’s tiny hands grasp at Sam’s hair which prompts him to push it back behind his ears and kiss his daughter’s tiny freckled nose. Whenever he has the chance to get a good look at Caden’s and Paisley’s features, it hits him for the umpteenth time how much they resemble their fathers.

Dean frowns when he sees his husband with their daughter, but not for the reason one may think. Caden pats his Dad’s cheeks with hands coated in powdered sugar and hoists himself onto his back to piggyback ride him and he pouts.

“You’re supposed to be asleep, Sasquatch.”

Sam hums when Paisley starts to bite at her little chewy bracelet they have her wear for oral stimulation, per suggestion of her pediatrician. “You guys aren’t exactly quiet, are you?”

Caden shakes his head and lets wavy hazelnut hair fall into his eyes. “Dada’s letting us cook.”

“We decided to make you breakfast before opening what Santa brought last night,” Dean explains and rubs his neck when their son drops down off his back.

He claims it’s because he has “cervical spine issues” that just decided to surface at age thirty-two but he gets just as flustered and nervous around Sam as he did as a teen and as a young adult when they first started “dating.” Admitting that to his husband, however, would be like admitting to murder—murder of his masculinity, that is, which is already fragile since the season of PETA adverts began. Sam still curls the longer pieces of his hair around his fingers whenever he finds himself more vulnerable than usual to Dean’s cuteness and susceptible to seduction after the kids are in bed. Nothing’s changed since their first date—with the exception of a house, marriage certificate, and two kids, of course.

“Aw,” Sam puts Paisley down on the floor and she runs as fast as her stubby, bowed legs will carry her to whatever her brother is doing in front of the TV. “I am loved after all.”

Dean lets out a huff and snakes his arms around his husband’s waist. “We have suspiciously fluffy pancakes, some extra crispy toast, scrambled eggs with a bit too much milk, and some actually decent hot cocoa.”

“I’ll take whatever’s edible, “ he knocks their foreheads together, “if you give me a kiss.”

“Ugh, I guess I can comply,” Dean rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss the love of his life, sleepy eyes fluttering shut in the safety of each other’s arms and in the security of the life they’ve built together.

Sam pulls back with some blue frosting on his nose and gives his brother a questioning eyebrow raise. He exhales with a soft laugh in reply. “We also baked cookies. Blue trees and green snowflakes like Pais wanted.”

“You’re such a great dad, De,” he rubs the other man’s shoulders with a grin. “I love you.”

“I know. You got lucky, Sammy,” Dean kisses him again. When they part, he whispers against his lips and runs his pointer finger over his chin. “Now the kids might actually kill us if we don’t let them open their presents, so can you go distract them while I get breakfast ready?”

Sam can’t help but laugh at his comment yet nods nonetheless. “I’ll keep you safe from our four and one year old children, I promise.”

“You’d better!” He calls over his shoulder as he walks back into the kitchen to clean up the mess and plate the viable food. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“Yeah, Merry Christmas, Jerk,” Sam shouts, walking to the family room to watch the Scooby Doo Christmas special with a kid under each arm, all four of them wearing those hideous matching pyjamas.

After all, he’s got the best gift ever already. That said, he still wants those matching flasks they saw at the store to take to the more boring little league games. Oh shit, he’s not supposed to mention that.

Merry Christmas from the Winchester family—the most dysfunctional clan on earth.

#wincest #sam x dean #sam/dean #fanfic #parent!wincest #domestic boys #family matters #otp: and they were soulmates #merry christmas #happy holidays #i hope you like your gift #im not a lazy oaf see #my fanfiction #read on ao3

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zebraslovescupcakestoo · 5 years

Text

Lucky (BBTIM AU)

This is a story about two boys named Mickey Disney and Bendy DeMon. Both who are different from each other, yet shared almost the same lives...

Early morning, he wakes up.

Knock, knock, knock on the door. (Boom boom boom!)

The first boy was woken with a smile by his early morning, blue bird friend he named Toppins who he chirped cutely from the window. They were morning buddies since he helped the little one from his fallen nest on one windy day.

The second boy was unamused by the ringing alarm clock on his night table. Yet he wasn't shy for using a hammer that he carved the 'silencer' on the handle and smashed it into pieces with rage. At least it makes his mornings feeling more 'tolerable.'

It's time for fresh up, perfect smile.

It's who they are waiting for.

After they got out of bed, they do their morning, cleaning hygiene and dress up routine.

Mickey quickly got down the stairs and went straight to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for three. Him, his big brother and Toppins. It was his turn today to make it and he was pretty good with cooking, maybe not like his brother but at least he doesn't burn the toasts or the eggs. It was a simple but a neatly well balanced breakfast with the usual lightly buttered toasts, scrambled eggs, fresh cut strawberries, blue berry muffins and his brother's favorite banana-blueberry pancakes. He even got whole grains bread and made it into crumbs for his blue little friend too!

Bendy just sluggishly dragging his knuckles on the floor into the dinning hall. Despite he wished he hasn't used a lot of energy on that alarm clock, he doesn't regret it. He sat on the dinning table and lay his head on it to catch up some shut eye. But that 'Just a few more minutes' turned 'Never mind! I can do it at my office job!' once he heard Boris coming out with a trolley filled with the 'simple' breakfast feast for today. There was monkey-bread danish, cinnamon-sugared waffles, cinnamon rolls with a delicious looking frosting, New Orleans style beignets, chocolate filled croissant and a tall glass of tomato juice. For health reasons. He was pleased that his partner was very thoughtful....

After breakfast, they went straight to work!

They go: Isn't he lucky? This Hollywood boy.

And they say...

Mickey arrived at his father animation studio for another day of animated work. He loved to draw since he was little and he was talented too. He was everybody's favorite person to talk, hang out, and even asking for help. Granted! At first, everybody thought he was going to be a brat since his father owns the business, but they were wrong. He was like the nicest guy at work like his cartoon counter part! Sometimes he even got asked if they wanted him over at lunch break to have a friendly chat. Despite he really wanted to, he politely declined since he wanted to reserved that as a little 'bro time' with Oswald.

Bendy went to work in his Joey Drew Studio the Third. He was greeted by his subordinates making a welcoming bow as their usual morning routine. Anyone who works there knew the rules when Bendy is 'in' for work. He runs a tight ship aside a really awful tyrant attitude. Despite they get pair very well, it was a literal nightmare working under him. They worked for double time cause he wanted them twelve episodes up on time in less than four days, sometimes one of them is being used as a ottoman for his feet, and sometimes he fired some people and he keeps their pay as a choice. You either live without it or die with it were the options. He was one of the perfect example of a spoiled brat. His father was the original owner and then his uncle Henry took over until he bought it from him. All they can do is try not to suck in his presence or say anything awful about him.

But to these two, it was only their 'public' image only 'they' knew.

He's so lucky, he's a star.

...Yet only the very few knew the 'real' person behind those masks they wear.

But he cry, cry, cries in his lonely heart, thinking:

If there's nothing missing in my life, then why do these tears come at night?

In the afternoon, it was a bit different for each day depending on the week. Yet they would always find time for their favorite big bros!

Mickey would make sure that he would finish all his work for today before he can go see his big brother at their amusement park his father wanted to open soon. Nobody knows much about him apart he's related to himself, but he wanted to be there for him and always make sure he gets noticed whenever he gets the chance. He always look up to him since they were little and he was the reason why he didn't became one of those spoiled rich kids and was very considerate to other people. He's also multi-talented like him, but different.

Mickey was charismatic, enthusiastic and has a very positive personality. Oswald was mysterious, serious and realistic type. But they were thick as thieves and they try their best to see in each others perspectives whenever they had a minor argument. But apart from that, Mickey knew one of his big brother's hidden talent and not so much of a secret that he never shared to anyone.

Ever since they were hearing the newest upstart singer Elvis Presley, Oswald was an instant fan! He got all of his vinyls songs up to date, he was doing those signature dance moves and best of all, he was a really good singer! Oh, did he forgot to mentioned that he can play the guitar too? He switched from piano. He was deeply touched on his birthday when Mickey got him the Elvis style jacket in his favorite color.

He arrived at the attraction and he spotted him working on those bumper cars. He wanted to greet him until he spotted a couple of his mechanical friends that beat him to it and he quickly hid behind the cotton candy machine. It's not that he didn't like them, it's just that every time he comes in his group of friends, they somewhat ignored his brother's presence for the whole conversations and that bothers him. So at the very least, he wanted to let him have some meaningful conversation in his co-working buddies without any 'huge' distraction like himself. The small talk didn't last much long but it seems like they were in good mood. After they left, he got out of his hiding spot and meet up with him.

Bendy was a bit picky on how he spends his afternoons. Depending on the week days, he was a 'busy' guy.

Today, he was going to revisit the CEO of an ice cream company named Frezzies Treatsies. He wanted to make some Bendy special treats for his promotional business tactics in the 'public' industry. He wanted those Bendy ans Boris shaped ice cream sandwiched with their best of the best they've got. He had taste tested their sample before and he paid a very good price for it too. Until that sonavagun cheated out of their deal and it tasted like icy sand with half-descent cream fillings when he received the first batch 'samples.'

When that happened, he calls his big guns and his best man, Boris Wolfenstein. He's the only person in this world that he would care from whatever he's got left in him. He was there at his worst and he deserves 'only' the best after him.

They LOVE to greet their business partners in these cases with a surprise, a friendly greeting, talking like gentlemen and find a solution to the problem...

By that I mean they kick down the door of the CEO, yelled 'F*k you, you double crossing sonavab!tch!,' beat the crap out of the guy until he's left breathing and told him to get their next year supply orders for what they've originally agreed on with half the price or they'll cut him up and fit into one of those smaller ice cream tubs!

Bendy always like to let Boris do most of the beating... it's like watching an skillful pottery artist making something out of a lump of clay but different...

Both boys love to spend their quality time with their favorite older brother.

Lost in an image, in his dream

But there's no one there to wake him up.

After work, they both had the evening to spend their time.

Mickey wished he didn't agreed to replace his father in a special interview that moment cause he wanted to help Oswald with their 'special' project, despite he said that he was alright to do it by himself for the evening. It may been a request by his father, but he still wished he could have picked a different evening, but he guessed it's all ready been done with him in his best tuxedo night and all freshen up for the shoot.

The interview went pretty well and the guy who was there was really swell. He told him all about his personal life and how's it going right now. He was even happier when he told on one of the stories about his older brother.

One time when he was ten, he was being pick on by a few kids that made fun of his unusual signature bun curls. At first he just brushes them off until they repeated the teasing everyday whenever he goes out in the public and it bothers him. His brother found that out and he told him to say to them that he was just made extra special and that they were just jealous.

However, he left out in the interview the other part that his brother told him that if they keep picking on him, he wanted him to say: 'My brother can eliminate you punks in one brawl because he's a black belt!'

Bendy's evenings is also varies depending the day.

He would have some spare time to read today's paper or watching some television. Mostly the news.

He's not really interested on events or the weather forecasts, what he's REALLY interested is BAD news. Because he's an entropy fan and he loves misery especially when it involves death.

He doesn't care about politics unless it's one of those nincompoops that's going against him, nor the news about a baby animal being born at the zoo unless it's something useful like an alligator, a lion or any meat eating animal that's going to help him dispose 'dead meats,' he wanted to see the whole world crash and burn! If it happened in THIS town he would call out to Boris and said: Let's go look for the bodies!

So far there's only the 'good' news on the television for tonight, pity. He turns it off and reads the papers instead. Which he instantly regret cause there was a picture of that ace detective rival, Felix Cat.

In THIS section and what it was told, Felix has successfully stopped one of his secret 'personal' smuggling drugs for his 'other' job and that was the third time he busted his hide out! He gritted his teeth as he crumbled the morning paper into a ball and tosses it in the fireplace.

“Stupid @$$, street cat, money loosing, ace defective, motherf#kr!” He cussed out as he took out a pack of match, light up the stick and tosses it in the fireplace to watch it burned to crisp in a matter of seconds. At least the sight of something burning lifted his mood a bit...

At least until later for tonight... he smug an idea of what to do.

And the world is spinning, when he keeps on winning.

But tell me, what happens when it stops?

At night, they were different from the public view... if they knew.

Mickey and Oswald were vigilantes for justice. They wanted to help the victims from the injustice. Since they were the future CEOs of the Disney Animations, they have access to the elites and wealthy businessmen that gave them the advantages of knowing their 'enemies' and their money safe.

On one occasion, they robbed the wealthy crooks to give back to the poor. Another was to take down a group of thugs that causes troubles for their neighborhood.

Mickey's special paints he crafted can make wondrous things. How it was possible and how he created it was his secret...

His older brother Oswald, was an inventor extraordinaire. He crafted most of their weaponry and he also just made two motorcycles just for their operations with the help of his little brother.

Their code names were Souris and Lapin. The media and the press called them the modern day Robin Hood or one of the comic book super heroes. Either way, they were very well praised by the public.

Bendy was then switched to the mafia boss.

On tonight's schedule, he was going to visit the 'mold.' A.K.A. One of the authorities of the law enforcements. He got a tip from the inside that there was some evidence against him and he decided to get rid of it.

Once that was done, he went to the abandoned docks and immediately made a bonfire to get rid of the evidence. This place was an ideal spot for getting away with almost anything, including a self-made fire pit with an old barrel. Anyone with a half of brain would be smart enough not to even go here...

Unless you have been on a hit man’s shopping list.

There was a gang of five guys... Nothing special to them aside they were armed... He had experience under his belt to tell that they are freshmen from a rival mafia. Either it was an order, a death wish, or it was just to please their bosses and go up in their ranks the 'easy' way. Pitiful.

Seems he needs to 'teach' them who's in charge and who not to mess with. Not that he planned to let them lived, it did makes him 'smile' from his mood earlier this evening...

They go: Isn't he lucky? This Hollywood boy.

And they say...

Mickey and his brother Oswald were just out on parole to look out a certain biker group that causes trouble at their favorite soda shop they liked to go when they have their day off. Not only that, it was popular among the kids and people alike. They spotted them outside of the shop, grafting the widows and walls with disturbing images...

Mickey MAY have done this in the past, but he doesn't write offensive languages and paint naked women with his art work...

“I knew this is going to bite me in the rear one day... but at least I can become a better person.” He then took out a paint grenade and tosses it at the center of the gang. One of then noticed it and just before he was going to say something, it exploded and all of the purple liquid surrounded their feet have glued them down. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn't break free of their situation.

The three guys were unable to escape from their sticky situation. Which is exactly what it was supposed to do. At least until you add water to disperse it... but he's not gonna tell that to them. Then they leaped out from their shadows with their paint guns readied and they unload a round of paint balls at them. It stung them a bit with their green and yellow colored 'bullets' but the hooligans smelled something weird from them... it didn't took them long to realized they were knock out gas as they passed out on the purple glue.

They both high five as they celebrated another peace keeping victory of the night.

Bendy have made the first move with a quick draw from his knives hidden from his left sleeves. He turned from his left side and swing his left arm to throw his knives at the group. Only four of them hit the foreheads... Leaving the last one standing. Meh! He though. He smirked at his remaining visitor with his glowing red eyes and it made the newbie petrified, even though he already had his pistol drawn.

He then rapidly launched himself forward and it made the newbie shoot him. Unfortunately for him, Bendy was trained to dodge bullets and he's showing the soon-to-be departed newbie who you should NEVER mess with without paying a heavy price. Bendy then took out his signature knife, the Red Velvet, as his finishing weapon. He sliced it upwards to take out the gun and then he quick jabbed multiple times to the abs and stomach, sending more gushing blood on his cheap outfit. At least he was the smarter one with experience AND fashion sense. He took a step back to let him drop on his right knee while he struggled to breathe.

“When you reached the gates of h3ll, say hello to my pops for me once you've met him.” He then grabbed a fist full of his back hair, pulls him back and then slowly slid deep his throat. The sound of his final blood-curling scream is his king of music to his ears... Aside from Boris' clarinet pieces.

Once he stops moving, he then lets go of his head as it hit the pavement and then watched more blood that is now coming out of his body. Such a satisfying site to see after a little work out, for him. He then noticed his loyal right hand man along with three others who were 'volunteered' as escorts, or extra security, came rushing in with some blood stains on them.

Guess that explains why these insects came to him under Boris' watchful eye, but then again like he stated, he had a swell time!

He's so lucky, he's a star.

Once they got back home to their bedrooms, they revealed their 'true' image that nobody wanted them to see.

Both of them took a huge yet quiet sigh of relief and frowned... Both of them got in their jammies... and then slid into bed.

After a long day of work, day and night, they then took out from their secret compartment that's hidden from anyone who knew them. Both of them... had an old picture frame. Of their prime teenage year at a local pizzaria.

But he cry, cry, cries in his lonely heart, thinking:

If there's nothing missing in my life, then why do these tears come at night?

Both of them stared at the picture group for quite some time.

Weather you believed it or not, both these boys were once a trio along with Oswald. Both used to be good friends from one another.

“Why did you had to be this way?” Mickey sadly whispered at Bendy's image.

“Why did you abandoned me for something I was trained to do?” Bendy angrily scoffed at the Disney brother's faces.

He is so lucky! But why does he cry?

“We used to be best of friends... We were so similar in a way and... You were like a second brother to us.” Mickey tried to find the good in him.

“I thought I could trust you two... Have someone who I can relate... At least have a backbone to do the impossibles like I could have done only better!” Bendy tried to be detached of his true feelings.

If there is nothing missing in his life, why do tears come at night?!

“Why did you do it? Why did you broke that no-kill policy under our team name? That man didn't deserved it!” Mickey then started to sob a bit.

“I was a fool to think you knew better. You both knew I was already in a mafia family! You both knew they came before you two rodents! I had to leave no witness that night! You don't know me THAT well, just like the other living miserable worms!” Bendy silently lashes out at them.

Then they had enough. They placed it back in their secret compartments before their emotions escalated more than it should.

He's so lucky, he's a star!

They then broke down in tears.

But they cry, cry cries in their lonely hearts thinking...

They were upset.

Mickey thought of many reasons why Bendy had to do it. He knew that he was part of a mafia family. He knew that he always had a sneaky yet a dark sense of humor. He used to trust him so easily, like a true friend would.

Bendy also was thinking of the reasons why they did left him alone. He knew long ago about Mickey as a child star at the age of nine until he met him and his brother personally. He was to be honest, was happy that they had a wild knack of sense of humors similar to his. He did too, used to trust them like a true friend.

If there's nothing missing in their life...

And now after that faithful night, their thrusts were shattered and their bonds were broken.

Mickey was heartbroken and was in a depressed state once they've returned to California. It took almost a week to convince himself, along side with his brother, father and some of his animation friends from their family's studio to move on.

After that incident, he was more careful of who he wanted to be friends with. He wasn't gonna turned pessimistic over everybody just for that one incident, but he will be more cautious like his brother would be on who to trust from now on.

Bendy was also heartbroken but angry instead. It took him about a week too, but he was in Boris' care after they learned what happened between them. (Because only Boris can calm him down.) He even took more jobs that's normally preferred to the other lowly members, but Bendy said that he needed to vend out his 'frustrations.' In truths, he was just finding ways to keep 'them' off his mind....

Once he was 'over with it,' he was determined not to be emotionally vulnerable like that again. He would never trust any new comers until they've proven themselves to him and also, he would never let anyone who had similar 'interests' be his 'acquaintances' on the spot. Also, they will be shot on his site if ever they did left him like they did.

Why do these tears come at night?

After they cried their eyes out, they fell asleep. They knew that nothing that they can do now can change the past. What's been done it's done. They learned their adult lessons in a hard way, but they did find a solution that fits both of them.

It's not that they took that photo out every night, but they've kept it as a memento of the good times they used to have and why they needed to be stronger as a person.

“Tomorrow's another day...” Bendy said before he sleeps.

“Maybe one day, it will be better.” Mickey cheered himself up before he too sleeps off.

He's so lucky, he's a star!

But he cry, cry, cries in their lonely hearts thinking:

If there's nothing missing in my life, then why do these tears come at night?

-----AUTHOR’S NOTES------

It’s been almost three months since I’ve started to write this one shot. Mainly due to work and lack of motivations.... And updates, youtube, and other stuff...

The Song was from an early 2000′s music era. back when they still had some good songs and one of early Britney Spears’ songs titled Lucky.

The music video depicted about how one girl despite seemingly having it all – fame, wealth, beauty – is truly lonely and unhappy on the inside. So I imagine how Bendy and Mickey would feel the same way in a manner of daily lives they live at the moment.

If I wrote it incorrectly of their characters, I’m sorry. If you had a hard time understanding the fighting situation, I’m sorry for that too cause I suck on combat explanations.

I was just as curious on the canon story line of how Bendy, Mickey and Oswald met and why are they on rocky terms at the moment. The only info I’ve gotten were from pasts question posts and arts. Maybe in the later chapters I might get a better picture of their relations.

Anyways, this is just an AU of the BBTIM AU, It’s non canon but it’s just a pass time until the next comic pages are up.

BBTIM characters like humanized Mickey and Bendy belongs to Marini4.

#bendy before the ink machine #bendy and the ink machine #humanized #bendy #mickey #Mickey Mouse #fanfiction #oswald the lucky rabbit #oswald #boris the wolf #boris #marini4

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