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idy-ll-ique · 3 years

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The Perfect Wingman.

Pairing: Single Dad!Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, tiny bit of Angst

Warnings: mentions of injuries, blood

Requested: Nope

Summary: Felix, Sebastian Stan's five year old son, is the perfect matchmaker (with the help of Uncle Anthony, of course!)

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Another matchmaker fic lmao there's just something about that trope where kids play matchmaker for adults that's just... 💞 anyway enjoy!

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"Buddy! Hi!"

Y/N glanced at Chris Evans as her boss spoke to her, seeing him running towards somebody. After her boss left, she turned around and smiled when she saw him chatting with Felix, Sebastian Stan's five year old son. The kid was literally sunshine in a bottle, making everyone around him happy. Guess that's another thing he got from his father.

Aside from looks.

Then she looked around, but couldn't see Sebastian anywhere. "Boo!" Startled, Y/N screamed and held a hand over her chest as she whirled around to see Sebastian doubled over in laughter behind her, clutching his stomach. "Oh my God!" she groaned as several heads turned to her at her scream. "You should've seen your face," Sebastian wheezed.

Y/N pouted at him and swatted his chest. "I could've had a heart attack!" Y/N wasn't an actress, she was just an assistant on set. Her only work was to make sure that all the actors on set were hydrated, which in turn led to her becoming good friends with all of them. They were all very friendly people, the Marvel cast. "But you didn't. Felix!" Sebastian called out and his son looked up.

Running as fast as his little feet could carry him, Felix jumped into his father's open arms, giggling. Y/N watched them with a smile on her face; Sebastian was a great father. "Meet Y/N," Sebastian introduced her and she waved at the kid. "Hi Felix," she grinned but Felix was mesmerized. Wow, she's so beautiful.

He simply blinked at her a few times, his jaw dropped. Y/N raised a questioning but amused brow at him, her eyes flickering to Sebastian who was watching his son with an exasperated look on his face, all too aware of his shenanigans. She laughed at Sebastian's expression and Felix snapped out of his thoughts. He raised his arms and leaned forward; a silent request of please pick me up.

Y/N gathered him in her arms, his tiny arms going around her neck as she held him on her hip. "Hello!" He had surprisingly clear speech, he did not mispronounce his L's and R's much. "Hi! How are you today? Enjoying yourself?" Felix nodded excitedly. "Yes!" Sebastian simply watched them with a soft smile as the girl he fancied talked to his son.

Sebastian had had a crush on Y/N ever since they began filming, and at this point, 4 months later, the only person who was oblivious to his feelings was Y/N. Everyone knew, and everyone heartily teased him for it. He had always wanted to ask her out; seeing his son get along so well with her only fueled his feelings. "Are you… are you an actwess too, Y/N?"

"No, darling, I'm a helping hand. I help everyone stay hydrated."

"What does that mean?"

"I give everyone water when they ask for it," she explained and Felix nodded, eyes the same colour as Sebastian's blinking at her in wonder. "Water is impowtant," Felix stated matter-of-factly making Y/N giggle. Felix decided he wanted to hear that sound much more frequently. "Felix! Is that you?!" Y/N, Felix and Sebastian turned to see Anthony making his way towards them.

"Uncle Anthony!" Felix squealed and Y/N put him down on his feet, smiling at the way he ran to Anthony Mackie. "Your son is so cute," she commented, turning to Sebastian only to see him already staring at her, a soft smile on his face. "It seems as though he has taken a liking to you. I wouldn't blame him." Y/N rolled her eyes at his flirting but blushed.

He did flirt with her a lot, but come on, that was just a part of his personality. Surely he didn't have feelings for her, he couldn't. Oh but he did; very strong feelings, on top of that. "Cheesy," she jabbed back and Sebastian clutched his chest with a pretend hurt look on his face. "You wound me," he pouted and Y/N grinned at him.

What they didn't see was Felix and Anthony staring at them, eyebrows raised in an identical manner. "Uncle Anthony, can I ask you something?" Anthony smirked but nodded. "Does papa… does papa love Y/N?" Anthony laughed loudly, realising that the adorable kid was the perfect wingman for Y/N and Sebastian. So he said, "Yes, yes he does."

"She is really pwetty…" Felix confessed, his own cheeks turning pink. "Aw, look who's blushing," Anthony teased, pinching his little cheeks. Felix blushed more and slapped his hands away, pouting. "Do you want your papa to go on a date with Y/N?" Anthony asked the child. Felix thought for a moment before nodding.

"Yes. If he likes her, he should just tell her!" Oh, bless his innocent heart. If only it were that easy in real life. "He will ask her soon, we'll make sure of it. Here's what you can do to help…"

---

2 months had passed since Felix visited the sets and Sebastian was getting impatient. If you thought his flirting was too much then, you should see him now. He flirted with her every chance he got but Y/N used to brush him off each time; he possibly couldn't be genuinely interested in her. She didn't think herself to be worthy of his affections, so, as much as she liked his flirting, she never reciprocated.

As Y/N gathered a few bottles of water in her arms, she heard a screech behind her. "Y/N!" Smiling, she turned, dramatically faking an 'oof' as a tiny body collided with her legs. "Felix, honey, hi! Didn't expect you to visit the sets today," she grinned as Felix let go, smiling broadly up at her.

"His babysitter couldn't make it, had to bring him down."

Her smile turned nervous as she saw the father of the cute kid walking towards her, a suave smile plastered on his face. "That's okay, papa, I can just hang out with Y/N!" Felix assured him before frowning at the dozens of bottles in her arms. "Do you need help?" Ah, ever the gentleman. One more thing he gets from his dad.

"Thank you so much, sweetie," she cooed as she handed him two bottles. It wasn't much, but seriously, how much could a little child carry? That was enough for him. "Can you go give these to Scarlett and Chris?" she requested, pointing to the spot where Scarlett Johansson and Chris Hemsworth were standing. "Okay, Y/N!"

She grinned when he left. "Seriously, how did you manage to birth the most perfect kid in the world?" she commented, turning to Sebastian. "Look at me," he said unabashedly, wiggling his eyebrows. "Seb," she huffed and nudged him, raising her eyebrows in shock when he took the bottles from her arms. "I have some time before my next scene."

"That's my job—"

"Nope, can't have you carrying all these bottles, sweetheart. What if you drop them?" She pouted as she followed him through the busy set. "Do you think I'm clumsy?" He glanced at her, worried that he actually offended her, but smiled when he saw her playful look. "Nope, but I don't want you to trip over the fallen bottles and hurt yourself."

"Now that was a good line," she whistled and Sebastian laughed. As Sebastian and Y/N chatted more, they heard a loud wail coming from a few feet away. Freezing up, both of them turned to see Felix sitting on the floor, surrounded by Elizabeth Olsen and Chris Evans as he moaned in pain. Y/N's eyes went wide with fear when she saw the cut on his knee.

Talk about hurting oneself...

Forgetting the world around her, she quickly rushed to the child, Sebastian hot on her heels. "Bub, stop crying," Chris tried but Felix wouldn't listen. The moment he saw Y/N, though, his tears ceased. "Y/N," he whimpered and reached towards her, finally content when she took him in her arms. "Oh, honey bun, you'll be okay," she whispered, kissing his forehead.

"It hurts," Felix insisted. "I know, darling, let's patch you up." Without any word to anyone, Y/N led him away from the crowd, sitting him down on one of the chairs littered across the place. Sebastian, Chris and Elizabeth watched her; Chris and Lizzie were smirking but Sebastian was beyond shocked. The worry on her face the moment she found out he was hurt, the way she cradled him…

The way his son had stopped crying when he saw her, as if she were his mother. The way he reached out to her instead of him. "Just ask her out, pal, look at her. She's perfect for you. And for Felix," Chris told him, patting him on the back before leaving with Elizabeth.

Sebastian stayed where he was for a few more minutes, heart racing and mind in an overdrive, watching as Y/N took care of Felix. Be mine, please.

"All okay, bub?" Y/N crooned as she tied a bandage on his knee after cleaning the blood off. "Thank you, Y/N!" Felix threw his arms around her neck and buried his face in her neck, smiling widely. Y/N returned the hug ardently, rubbing his back. "Felix?" Felix looked over Y/N's shoulder to see his dad standing there, a small smile on his face. "Papa!"

He made no point in moving out of Y/N's arms and Sebastian took the hint, merely ruffling the boy's hair. "You doing okay? Y/N take care of the boo-boo?" Felix nodded eagerly. "It doesn't even hurt now," he said proudly and Sebastian smiled. "Did you say thank you?" "He did, Sebastian," Y/N assured him.

"I wish Y/N took care of my boo-boos all the time!" Felix pouted. Sebastian froze again, his eyes darting to Y/N when he saw her stiffen. "How is that possible, sugar?" Y/N joked nervously as she stood up, Felix still in her arms, holding him on her hip like before. "Papa can date you! And then you can get married and then you'll be my mama and then you'll take care of all my boo-boos!"

Sebastian and Y/N stared at each other as Felix innocently looked at Y/N with a huge smile on his face. "M-Married? Bubba, I don't think your papa likes me in that way…" Sebastian suddenly found his voice. How dare she? "Y/N, I do like you, why do you think I flirt with you all the time?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Y/N's eyes went wide. "Wait, I thought you were joking—"

"I wasn't. Will you go on a date with me?"

"Sebastian, I-I… I'll be honored."

"Oh please, iubi, the honor's all mine," he chuckled and, not caring about who was watching (including his own son), leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers in a sweet kiss. Y/N's heart fluttered at the term of endearment as she kissed him back. Felix groaned loudly in Y/N's arms, covering his eyes. "Yucky!"

Sebastian and Y/N had to break the kiss because they laughed too hard. Felix slid down Y/N's arms and ran towards Anthony, who was watching them with a small smile, proud of his best friend for finally making a move on the woman he liked. Anthony smirked when the pipsqueak stopped next to him. "Good job, bud."

"Thank you, Uncle Anthony." And Felix gagged again as he and Anthony turned to Sebastian and Y/N, only to see them in another liplock.

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Leave a like if you enjoyed, reblogs will be accepted and appreciated too <3

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

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get-your-fics · 4 years

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Hungry Like the Wolf

Summary: Women who closely resemble you are being brutally stabbed, and a man has been watching you like a hawk. Could they somehow be related?

Paring: Dark!Diego Hargreeves x reader

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: Smut, non-con, choking, knifeplay, blood kink, mentions of murder

A/N: so here’s my first foray into writing dark!diego fic. if you like it, let me know if you want to be added to a taglist because i have lots more ideas!

You weren’t sure when you first started to notice it.

Maybe it was when you were on your way to work, rushing down the sidewalk. You narrowly dodged people walking the opposite way, shooting you glares as you passed by them. You muttered apologies under your breath, never pausing long enough to make any of them truly count.

You passed by a newsstand, and the front page of a newspaper caught your eye. You slowed your step and got closer. Your eyes scanned over the headline printed in big, bold letters:

KILLER STRIKES AGAIN IN LONG LINE OF GRUESOME STABBINGS

You picked up the newspaper. Right underneath the headline was a photo of the victim. It was a woman. The longer you stared at her face, a sense of unease settled in your gut. There was something vaguely and oddly familiar about it, and yet you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Hey, are you gonna pay for that, lady?” Your head snapped up to meet the eye of the man running the newsstand. “This isn’t a library.”

You immediately put the newspaper back amongst the stacks. “Sorry,” you murmured. You ducked your head and continued along the sidewalk, hoisting the strap of your messenger bag higher on your shoulder.

You brushed off the pit that had formed in your gut. New York City was teeming with crime; you had grown used to the grisly reports long ago. Any murderer who wanted to make a name for himself ought to pick a different city to stand out.

🔪

“Again.”

You raised your fists in front of your face. You didn’t take your eyes off of the boxing pads hovering in front of you. You took a step forward and aimed directly for them. Your right fist made contact with the pad before you immediately snapped your hand back. Pain blossomed through your knuckles. You hissed and shook your hand, trying to ease the sensation.

“Good.” Your personal trainer, Dani, nodded approvingly. “Again.”

You hunched over with your hands on your knees, panting to catch your breath. “We’ve been at it for the past thirty minutes.”

“Don’t look now, but someone else has had their eyes on you for at least that long.” She smirked, looking past you.

You stood up and furrowed your brow. Immediately ignoring her warning, you craned your neck to look behind you and followed her line of sight. Sure enough, she was right. Someone did have their eyes on you, that someone being Diego Hargreeves.

He sat against the wall, his legs spread wide and his arms crossed over his broad chest. You locked eyes. He wasn’t fazed when you caught him looking. He unabashedly continued to stare at you, the corners of his lips curled into the hint of a smirk.

You quickly averted your gaze back to Dani, your cheeks heating up. You hoped you could pass off the blush as a consequence of your workout.

Dani knew better. “I told you not to look.” She chuckled at your expense.

You cast your eyes downwards. “I hate you,” you mumbled.

She laughed harder, slapping a hand on your shoulder. “I think that means it’s time for a break.” She slipped off the boxing pads. “There’s a coffee place around the corner. You up for it?”

“Yep.” Anything to get out of here.

You unwrapped your hands and grabbed your towel, wiping the sweat from your brow before draping it over your shoulders. You and Dani gathered your belongings and ducked under the ropes of the boxing ring.

You followed Dani around the outside of the ring. You didn’t realize what she was deliberately doing until it was already too late and you were ensnared in her trap.

“Good work up there, ladies,” Diego called out to you as you passed by him.

Dani grinned at him. “Thanks, Diego.”

He shifted his gaze to you, and his eyes lingered on you as you walked away. His eyes were so dark, they didn’t exactly match the smile on his lips. He winked at you and licked his lips.

You shivered and looked away. You uncapped your water and downed half the bottle in one swig, nearly coughing from drinking so fast. Dani stifled a laugh, and you shot her a glare, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Diego Hargreeves was somewhat of a fixture at the gym. From what you knew, Al, the owner, let him reside in the basement in the boiler room as long as he mopped the floors after closing. During the day, he played detective, catching the bad guys and putting them behind bars. He was well liked by people at the gym, although you had never once seen him train there.

You had, however, sensed his eyes on you more and more often recently. He was always just lurking in the shadows, watching as you moved around the gym, never saying anything to you. It was unnerving, the focused concentration in his eyes as he watched you work, worse than any lecherous leers you had gotten from drunks walking down the street. You knew you should confront him, you just didn’t know how to go about it.

Dani, however, had other ideas.

“Aren’t you ever going to say hi?” She walked down the street next to you, bundled up against the cold. “He clearly likes you.”

You wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck, wishing you could disappear into it. “Then shouldn’t he be the one to say hi first?”

“Don’t be like that. He’s a good guy.” She nudged your side with her elbow. “Easy on the eyes, too.”

You swatted her away. “I hardly know him.”

“Isn’t that what dates are for?” She quirked a brow at you. “To get to know each other?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re always trying to set me up.”

“Forgive me for trying to help you get some.” She held her hands up. “In that case, guilty as charged.”

You laughed along with her, but your laughter quickly ceased. Your face fell. “I don’t like the way he looks at me.” It was like he was undressing you with his eyes, but worse than that. “It’s like he wants to eat me alive.”

She smirked at you. “I could use a man who looked at me like that.”

You entered the little coffee shop and ordered. You waited until your names were called before grabbing your drinks and retreating to a table in the back corner. You took your seat, unraveling all of the layers you had put on to shield yourself from the cold.

“I swear you avoid any man who shows interest in you like the plague,” Dani teased you, sipping her latte. “When are you going to give in and settle down? Aren’t you bored? Aren’t you lonely?”

You shrugged sheepishly. “I have my work and my hobbies. It keeps me busy.”

She snorted. “Spoken like a true workaholic.”

Suddenly, a voice on the TV in the corner drew your attention. Both you and Dani looked up to watch it.

“In the ongoing investigation as to who is behind the stabbings, another murder was discovered last night by Detective Eudora Patch,” a professional-looking woman sitting behind a desk said. “Her name was Jennifer Springley. She is the twelfth murder authorities have found in the past two months as the killings appear to have been increasing in frequency.”

“Holy shit,” Dani muttered under her breath.

“I know,” you agreed. “This is getting out of hand.”

“No, not that.” She pointed up at the screen. “You notice anything similar?”

You looked up to see a photo of Jennifer alongside photos of the eleven other victims. Seeing them all lined up side by side made your breath catch in your throat. Their hair, their eyes, their lips… They were all distinctly the same and terrifyingly familiar.

Dani softly said your name. “They all look like you.”

🔪

Music blasted in your ears as you smacked the hell out of the punching bag in front of you. Your knuckles hurt, and your muscles were sore, but you didn’t stop until it was swinging off the chain it hung from, threatening to break and plummet to the ground in an explosion of sound.

You usually went to the gym after work to blow off some steam, but lately you’ve been going twice as often as was normal. You’ve been on edge ever since you saw that news report at the coffee shop: triple-checking the lock on your door when you’re home, glancing over your shoulder when walking late at night, clutching your keys between your fingers in case you had to fight off an assailant. You had brushed it off as a coincidence at the time. After all, every killer had a type. But that didn’t stop you from worrying and biting your nails down to the quick.

It was a good thing your go-to hobby was boxing. One thing was for sure: if anyone tried to catch you off guard, you weren’t going down without a fight.

You heard a muffled voice over the music, and a hand waved in front of your face. You stepped back and ripped your earbuds out of your ears, not bothering to pause the song. “What?” you snapped a little too harshly.

You no longer regretted your tone when you saw who had interrupted you. Diego stood next to you, a wide smile plastered on his face. “I asked you if you wanted a sparring partner.”

You swallowed hard. It was the first time he had ever addressed you directly, and this time you had no choice but to answer him. “I don’t think it would be a fair fight.” You eyed the knives strapped to his back.

He noticed what you were eying, and his smirk grew. “Because of the knives or because I’d beat you?”

You shrugged carelessly. “Take your pick.”

“Then I think we both know what I’d choose.” He rested one arm on the punching bag. “If you don’t want to spar then, maybe you’d like some tips.”

He struck up position. “When you go in for a punch, you put too much momentum into it.” He mimed a punch at the punching bag. “Anyone could dodge you, and you’d just topple over all on your own. You gotta keep your weight on both feet.”

You pursed your lips. “Thanks for the tip.”

He stood up straight. “Any time.” He looked apologetic. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you. You looked like you were in the zone.”

“It’s fine,” you mumbled.

He rested one arm on the punching bag. “What’s got you all worked up?”

You furrowed your brow, confused as to why he was still interrogating you. You looked around and noticed that outside the windows was dark, and there was no one else in the gym. You must have been so distracted, you lost track of time. Now, it was just you and Diego.

You looked back at him. “Sorry, am I keeping you from doing your job?”

“What? Oh, no.” He dismissed you with a wave of his hand. “Besides, I wouldn’t mind the company while I work.”

He stepped close to you, and you were suddenly aware of his close proximity to you in your lack of clothes. You were just in a sports bra and shorts, your usual boxing attire.

You backed away from him and glanced down at your Fitbit on your wrist. “Actually, it’s getting late.” You stooped down to gather your things. “I should be getting home.”

He furrowed his brow. “Are you going to walk? At this time of night?”

You shoved your arms into the sleeves of your jacket, hurrying to get out of there. “I live just a couple blocks away.”

He shook his head. “Nuh-uh. I’ll drive you.”

You blinked at him. “That’s really not necessary.”

“Please? It’ll make me feel better, what with all those murders recently.”

You froze, your blood going cold. “Murders?”

“Yeah?” He quirked a brow at you. “All those stabbings on the news? You haven’t seen them?”

You nodded. “I have.”

“Then you should know it’s not safe out there for a girl like you.”

You folded your arms over your chest. “I can handle myself.”

He looked you up and down and laughed. “I’m sure you can.” He reached out and grabbed your hand. “Please, just humor me then.”

You stared at him. It was clear he wasn’t going to give up anytime soon, even if that meant hauling you into his car himself. And you’d rather not push him past that point.

You slowly nodded. “Alright.” Let’s get this over with.

His face broke out into a big smile. “Great. My car’s parked just out front.”

He kept his hand on yours as he led you out of the gym. His touch felt hot, like a brand on your skin. He let go to open the door to the passenger’s seat for you. You got in his car, and he rounded the front to get in on the other side.

You sat with your arms crossed and your bag in your lap, staring straight out the windshield. He tried to make conversation with you as he drove down the city streets, about where you grew up, what brought you to New York, what you did for a living. You indulged him with one word answers, his voice filling the gaps in between. You weren’t exactly eager to get to know him.

He pulled up in front of your apartment building and shifted the car into park. He looked over at you, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other rested on the console between you, like he was expecting something.

“Thank you for the ride,” you said what you thought he wanted to hear. You shrunk back towards the door, grabbing the handle.

“Don’t mention it.” He smiled at you a little too widely. His gaze was dark. “Let me walk you to your door.”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he got out of his car the same time you did. He followed you into your building and up the stairs to your floor. You walked down the dimly lit hall. You didn’t live in the nicest area of town, which was a given for anyone making as much as you did. But the lights flickering above you and the stained carpet seemed even more nefarious than usual with him behind you.

You stopped in front of the door to your apartment. You dug your keys out of your bag and twisted them in the lock until you heard a click. You pushed your door open and looked back at him, wondering if he would wait until he was in your apartment to kill you or settle for here in the hall with no one around.

He smiled at you. “Get a good night’s rest.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Anytime you need a ride home, don’t hesitate to ask me.”

You forced a smile back at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You stepped inside and closed the door shut, immediately turning the locks. You backed away and ran your hands through your hair. Maybe you were letting your paranoia get the best of you. He seemed like a nice enough guy, if not a little oblivious and couldn’t take a hint. Being single for so long must have made you cynical.

Suddenly, you got a shiver down your spine, like you were being watched. You turned around and pressed your hands against the door, peering through the peephole. What you saw on the other side made you gasp.

He was still there, standing in front of your door, just staring. He was no longer smiling. He had that same look in his eyes he had while watching you in the gym, except ten times worse. It was intense. He looked like he was deciding something and he hadn’t yet made up his mind, still weighing his options.

You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your breathing in case he heard you. He stood there for what felt like hours. You wondered if he could sense you on the other side. You were sure not even the three locks and the chain on your door would be enough to keep him out if he wanted in.

Whatever he had been deciding, he must’ve come to a conclusion, because suddenly he retreated down the hallway, his footsteps so quiet you wouldn’t have heard them unless you had been listening for them.

When you were sure he was gone, you spun around and pressed your back against the door. You slid down it, sinking to the floor and hugging your knees to your chest. The fear that seized you was made even worse when you realized you hadn’t told him your address when he drove you home.

🔪

You marched through the gym with a determined look on your face. You ignored people you usually saw who greeted you. You didn’t stop at the locker rooms like you normally did. You kept on through the main area of the gym, looking as if you were on a mission and nothing could stand in your way.

You knew it was Diego.

You had stayed up all night, staring out the peephole, waiting for him to return when he thought you were asleep and break in. You didn’t catch a wink of shut eye. You were glued to the door, going through all the possible scenarios in your head of how you would defend yourself. He never came.

But you knew it was him. There was no other explanation for his peculiar behavior. He had had his eye on you for months now. You were clearly his next target. You were surprised he had waited this long to make his move.

Or maybe he liked watching his prey panic. He drove them to the brink of madness and, once they were vulnerable, found the perfect time to strike. You suppressed a shudder.

You needed to find something to confirm your suspicions. Plus, if you were going to try to turn him into the police, you couldn’t show up empty-handed. You needed proof, and quickly, before he got bored of toying with you.

Lucky for you, you knew where the dragon’s den was.

You turned down the hallway away from the gym and bumped straight into a chest. Your heart leaped in your ribcage when you thought you had run into the exact person you were trying to avoid, but relief washed over you when you looked up and saw Al, the gym owner.

“Whoa, where you going?” He raised his brows.

“Um, I was looking for the bathroom,” you quickly fibbed, fidgeting with your fingers.

He narrowed his eyes at you, but if he noticed you were off, he didn’t mention it. He pointed behind you. “Over there, on your left.”

“Thanks. I must’ve gotten turned around.” You laughed awkwardly. “Hey, by the way, have you seen Diego around today?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, kid. He’s out on detective business right now.” He smirked at you. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear you were looking for him, though.”

He passed by you. You waited until he was out of your sight to continue down the hall. Hopefully, when he told Diego, you’d be long gone and at the police station by then.

You spotted the door to the boiler room. You walked over to it, looking both ways down the hall to make sure no one was coming your way. Then, you grabbed the knob and twisted it. Fortunately, it was unlocked.

You slowly pushed the door open with an ominous creak. Light from the hallway spilled into the room enveloped in darkness. You reached inside and felt around for a light switch. Once you found it, you flipped it on, flooding the room with light.

It wasn’t exactly the villain’s lair or dungeon you had expected. Instead, what was most surprising was that it looked like a teenage boy’s room in his parent’s basement rather than a place that belonged to a grown man, full of organized clutter from the floors to the walls.

You wasted no time closing the door behind you and going through his stuff (and there was a lot to go through). You searched high and low, through his drawers, his shelves, under his bed, being careful not to leave any sign you had been there at all. You weren’t quite sure what you were looking for, exactly. A bloody knife, maybe? A severed limb, perhaps? You were sure you’d know when you saw it.

After rifling through all his belongings, you came up with nothing to show for it. You were starting to feel crazy. Had you misjudged him? Jumped to conclusions? You had officially let your paranoia reach new heights. Regardless, you were still getting a restraining order. He gave you the heebie jeebies.

You made to move towards the door when your foot caught on the rug in the middle of the room. It got messed up in the process, revealing what looked like a square indent in the floor. You furrowed your brow and bent down, feeling along the edges of the indent until you were able to lift it up. It was a secret compartment in the floor.

You peered into the hole in the floor. There were a bunch of assorted bracelets and necklaces and rings inside. You reached down and picked up the one closest to the top. It was a heart-shaped locket inscribed with a J. Your mouth went dry. It wasn’t hard to figure out who the J stood for.

Jennifer Springley, the twelfth victim.

There was something on the locket. It looked like rust. You scraped at it with your nail, and it flaked off. Your eyes went wide when you realized what it really was: dried blood.

You dropped the locket as if it had stung you. You looked down and counted twelve in total. You scrambled back from the compartment, fighting the urge to retch. They were souvenirs.

“Holy shit,” you whispered.

“Find what you were looking for?”

You craned your neck to see Diego standing in the doorway behind you. He wasn’t smiling. He closed the door behind you with a slam that reverberated in your ears. You didn’t think you had ever heard a louder sound in your life.

He walked down the steps, his footsteps against the concrete like the ticks of a bomb about to go off. “You weren’t supposed to see those.” He stopped before you, and his shadow loomed over you. “Put them back.”

You hurried to replace the top on the hidden compartment and covered it with the rug. You stood up, shrinking away when you found yourself too close to him. “I can pretend I didn’t see anything.”

He took a step towards you. His eyes seemed to devour any light that hit them, like two blackholes in the center of his face. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

You knew he was backing you up against the wall, but you had no choice as he walked towards you, trying to put more distance between him and yourself. “Please, don’t kill me,” you murmured, your voice impossibly small.

He stopped in his tracks, arching a brow at you. “You think I’m going to kill you?”

Your back met the brick wall as you froze, your knees threatening to buckle underneath you. You were too scared to answer. Maybe he was still playing with you.

Suddenly, his face softened. He gently said your name. “I could never hurt you.” He reached out, and you flinched when he grabbed your shoulders. “That’s what I needed them for.”

You stared up at him, slowly growing more and more perplexed. He looked at you with so much adoration, almost doting like a lovesick puppy. “I don’t understand,” you stammered.

He cupped your face in his hands. Your skin crawled at his touch. He leaned down to stare directly into your eyes. “I knew it from the moment I saw you.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “You were the one for me.”

He ran his hand over your jaw and down your neck. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about how beautiful you are.” He ran the tip of his finger along your throat, tracing an invisible line you couldn’t see. “About peeling back your skin and seeing what your veins look like, about holding your beating heart in my hand.” He settled his hand right over your heart. “About what color your blood is.”

Your heart was racing faster than the flap of a hummingbird’s wings, and you were sure he could feel it. This barely restrained psychopath had murdered other women to satisfy his urge to torture you, and now you were trapped alone in a boiler room with him.

You were supremely and royally fucked.

You mustered a thimble of courage and used it to push his shoulders, catching him off guard and causing him to stumble back a step. “Get away from me,” you snapped.

He raised his brows. “So, that’s how it’s gonna be.” He smirked. “Fine, I’m up for a little sparring match.” He paced back and forth in front of you, like a lion pacing the length of its cage. “Try to make it to the door, or – maybe that’s too much,” he taunted you. “To start, try making it past me.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your side. The knives strapped to his back glinted in the light. There was no possible way you could overpower him, especially if he decided to fight dirty with his supernatural abilities. You were outmatched. But, there might still be a way you could slip past him, and if you got enough of a head start, you could make it to the gym before he caught you. Regardless, you weren’t going to make it easy on him.

You stepped forward and swung your fist, aiming for his jaw. He easily sidestepped you, but your momentum continued, and you sprawled out on the floor.

He darkly chuckled above you. “Looks like you should’ve taken my advice.”

He curled his fingers into the back of your shirt and hauled you towards the twin bed in the corner. You flailed your legs, trying to grab onto anything you could and shrieking at the top of your lungs.

He tossed you onto the bed, and you bounced on the mattress. He immediately crawled on top of you before you could sit up. You bared your teeth and reeled your arm back to scratch at his cheek. He grabbed your hand before it could make contact and pinned it by your head.

He whipped out a knife and held it to your throat. “I would recommend keeping still, or I can make this worse for you.” He dug the edge of the blade into your skin enough to sting. “I wouldn’t make a sound, either.”

You swallowed hard. He had you beat. All you could do now was lie still and take whatever he gave you. Hopefully, he decided to have mercy on you.

He moved the knife down your body and started his work on undressing you. He straddled your thighs and tore down the center of your shirt, splitting it in half with a gut wrenching rip. You sank your teeth into your lips to keep in the sobs that wanted to spill out.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he told you as he cut the straps on your bra. “I was going to win you over eventually. But now you’ve found out, so I guess there’s no turning back.”

You scowled at him. Part of you was pretty sure he didn’t mind taking a shortcut to get what he wanted.

He let go of your hand to strip you of your shirt and bra, discarding your tattered clothes on the floor. His eyes were glued to your heaving chest as your breath quickened, flushed pink. You resisted the urge to cover yourself with your arms.

“Look at you,” he whispered huskily. He cupped your tit in his hand, his thumb stroking your nipple until it stiffened to a peak. “So beautiful.”

He was practically salivating at this point. He looked hungry, like a wolf that had been starved and kept in captivity its entire life until now, when it had finally been set free.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.” He held the knife above your tit. “I need to taste you.”

Before you could protest, he pressed the knife into your skin. He made a neat slice right underneath your collar bone, about an inch long and just deep enough to draw blood. Your back arched on the bed, and you couldn’t hold back the pained yelp that escaped your throat.

“Shhh,” he shushed you. He pinched your nipple roughly, and you went still. He dipped down and ran his tongue along the cut he had made, lapping up the slow trickle of blood leaking out. He pulled away, red staining his lips. “You taste even better than I dreamed of. I can’t wait to mark you up more.”

He placed the flat of the knife underneath the button on your jeans and popped it off, shoving them down your legs. He cut off your panties and ripped them off, baring yourself to him. He tossed your underwear and the knife to the floor. Once he had gotten a taste of you, it was clear he was desperate for more.

He grabbed hold of your legs and spread them wider for him. He spat on your cunt, using his finger to spread his spit around your entrance. Your eyes went wide when you realized what was about to happen, and the fight was ignited inside of you once more.

You tried to sit up and push him off. “Stop! Don’t–”

He grabbed hold of your wrists and pinned you back against the mattress. “What a shame,” he tsked. “You were being so good for me.”

He shifted so he held both your hands in one. You wriggled in his grasp, but he remained strong. He used his free hand to undo his fly and push his boxers and jeans down his thick thighs in one swoop. He stroked his achingly hard cock dripping with precum before positioning himself at your entrance.

“I need to claim you,” he growled, rumbling deep in his chest, before he pressed into you.

You whimpered as he forced himself inside of you. He didn’t stop until the head of his cock pushed against your cervix. He didn’t give you time to adjust, pulling back only to sharply snap his hips against yours again.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his face contorted with pleasure. He buried his face in the crook of your neck. “You feel so good.”

He set a fast pace, hammering into you. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears streaming down your cheeks, and bit your lip so hard the copper taste of blood flooded your mouth. His hand closed around your throat, and you gasped.

“Look at me,” he commanded, giving your throat an experimental squeeze. “I want you to look at me when I come in you.”

Your eyes shot open and were met with his dark ones. He stared down at you as he rammed into you. He was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and his chest was pressed flush against yours. His breath hit your lips in small bursts of air as he panted. You could tell he was close when his thrusts grew sloppy and uneven.

He spilled into you with a growl, fucking his seed deep inside of you. He rested his forehead against yours and softly kissed your parted lips, a contrast from how roughly he had treated you before. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, licking the blood from your self-inflicted wound.

He pulled out of you, but his hand remained on your neck. “I own you now.” His dark eyes bored into yours. “You belong to me.”

You could only hope he never tired of you.

🔪

Masterlist | Ko-fi

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writefasttalkevenfaster · 4 years

Text

Javier Peña / Ceasefire

Prompts: “You don’t know me”

Summary: Javier’s been in a bad mood -- and you realize why: you.

Warnings: NSFW, Jealousy (Javi being a jealous idiot), Smut, exhibitionism (why does this keep happening?), dirty talk, swearing, oral (f receiving), i wrote this after watching 2 episodes of narcos help, no y/n

Word Count: 3,004

“What are you two talking about?” You and Steve’s snap up from the file you’re looking at. The file falls closed in Steve’s hands. His eyes flicker between the empty glasses of whiskey, face twisted in a scowl.

Javier is a foul fucking mood, his anger a bitter lime, souring the taste of everyone in the office, or rather now, only, you and Steve. The office is dead and the streets quiet, for once. A temporary ceasefire and a strict curfew bought them some time. But time for what really? They never had enough anyway. Even now. There was only the sound of the low buzz of the flickering lights overhead, dying. But everything seemed less alive when you were surrounded by nothing but death.

And Javier was no different.

A dark cloud had been brewing over his head since the day before, when he found you and Carrillo in his office, pouring over plans that he hadn’t gotten to see. Lightning cracked down on anyone who dared to enter his radius. The entire office had steered clear of him since, including you and Steve.

Steve says nothing, but shoots you a look that says everything, asshole, “Nothing, Javi, didn’t know you were one to take interest in our personal lives.”

“Didn’t know you had all the capital on being a nosy fucking busybody,” he bit back, grabbing the file out of Murphy’s hands, before flipping through it, pausing, “This isn’t work.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair, hem of your dress riding up, “We’re off the clock, Peña, not like it’s any of your business,”

“Wedding pictures are how you guys like to spend your off time?” he whistles, his eyes unabashedly raking over your bare legs, “I thought I told you not to go too crazy on the weekends.”

“Not that you asked, but I needed some help with an anniversary gift for my wife,” Steve sighs, crossing his arms, “didn’t think you would be interested.”

“And why would she be?” He jerks his head to you, tilting it, before tossing the file back onto Murphy’s desk past your head, “she doesn’t believe in marriage.”

You snort, rising from your seat. “And how would you know anything I believe in?” you brush by him intentionally, shoulders colliding, you ask, shrugging on your coat, “you don’t even know me.”

His eyes flash dangerously, eyes catching the reflection of the dancing lights — but there was something more than just light — anger. You catch how his fingers flex in place, his lips a tight line, but he says nothing when he spots you leaving. Instead, you see him continue to discuss something quietly with Murphy, as you turn the corner to leave.

You walked to your anger, gritting your teeth as you burst through the double doors of the embassy. You tugged at the collar of your shirt, feeling the sweat already begin to drip down your neck. Out of one suffocating night and into another.

You didn’t know what his fucking problem was, the metal of your keys digging into your fisted fingers. Your steps echoed against the pavement, the streets of Bogota quiet for the first time since you had arrived. But the silence wasn’t a comfort, instead it was only an irritant for your nerves. Maybe it was the same for Javier — the feeling of standing still was worse than always moving — it was easy to ignore problems when the world was constantly shifting under feet. But at a standstill — you unlocked your car — it was easier to get consumed by everything that was wrong.

You had barely opened the door, when you found yourself pressed against it. Breath sucked from your lungs, your hands fumbled for your gun, ready to shoot whoever had chosen to grab at a federal agent, but instead you found a familiar voice whispering to you in Spanish, “I don’t know anything about you, huh?”

Relief washes over you, only to be replaced with white hot anger, “Javier, what the fuck—”

His lips are at your neck, peeling back your all too warm jacket, freeing your skin to the Colombian humidity that clung to the air desperately. Almost as desperately as Javier’s lips were, burning kisses into your already searing skin. Your jacket slid helplessly to the ground, as helpless as you were under his touch. His fingers quickly pull apart your shirt, nearly ripping the buttons from the fabric to expose your neck to his touch.

You felt anger bubble up in your throat again, only to be distracted by his large hands grasping at your hips, squeezing and pulling you impossibly closer. Closer. He was quickly stoking a different fire in you — one growing quicker and spreading faster, especially as his knee parted your thighs for him.

“I know that you like this,” he continued, his fingers already between your legs, fingertips pressing against your soaked underwear, as your hips roll against his touch, “You cannot deny it, hermosa — your body certainly isn’t,” his chuckles rumbles against you, making you shudder against him, “does he know how you you feel? Wet, tight, pliable under my touch, my touch,” he sweeps your tied hair to one side before pulling it from its constraint, “Does he know how you sound when you beg for me every night? Beg me to come? Does he?”

“Does who?” You growl.

Of course, you knew who he was talking about. And of course they didn’t know — you both did your damnedest to make sure no one knew. You knew the reputation that Javier carried, bore it proudly on his chest without any shame. Why would he need to feel it? He was a man after all — he wasn’t married, even if he was, there was no shame for a man to fuck around with his informants. Not when it was the name of justice and fairness. But was there anything fair about how his teeth were dragging across your pulse point, sucking and licking at the newly formed bruise, “Steve’s fucking married and Carrillo—”

“Married is another word for trapped, and you don’t see the way Carrillo eyes you when your back is turned,” He hisses, fingers squeezing your ass, his hardness pressed against your thigh, “there’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Just like there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” you spit back, “you’re just fucking pissed because I said you don’t know me, because you don’t.”

“I know you,” he whispers against your skin, licking a stripe up your neck, “I know you.”

You rip his fingers from your body, turning to lean against the car, chest heaving, fingers digging into the cheap paint of the car, “Prove it,” His pupils dilate, as he moves closer, panting in your ear, as he fumbles with your back door, but you shut it and lock it, “you want everyone to know that I’m yours, right?” you sit on the back of the car, looking at the empty streets, “it’s a ceasefire. No better time.”

He growls, the noise sending heat straight down your body, as he presses himself against you wholly, as your thighs wrap around his waist to pull him in closer, “I will know every inch of you after tonight. I will drag my body down every single place, until you are begging me to let you come tonight.”

His calloused fingers trail up your soft thigh again, lingering this time, no longer quick or rough. He made good on his promise, as his fingers explored your lower thigh, his lips mapped your collarbone, “Javier,” you breathed, “this isn’t going to make me beg — this is just making me impatient.”

“Now, now, hermosa,” his fingers finally rake across your core, as his eyes flicker with that same dangerous gleam, “Don’t we Americans say, all good things come to those who wait?”

“We’re not in America,” Your fingers pulled at his collar, tugging him closer, fisting the fabric of his shirt, as he presses a kiss to your soaked underwear, “Maybe I should find out if Murphy or Carrillo are available—” and his fingers slid your panties aside, two thick fingers sinking inside you, “Javi— Fuck-”

“Would they be able to fill you like this? To satisfy you?” A derisive laugh cut off by a short groan, his fingers sliding in and out, his thumb brushing against your clit, “look how you’re dripping for me, and I haven’t even put my cock in you yet.”

“Javi,” your hips roll against his fingers, feeling your body begin to crest just as he slides another finger in, “Javi, please,”

His fingers slow and then withdraw completely, and you nearly sob into his shoulder at the absence of his touch, biting back tears. He kisses each cheek, before trailing open mouthed kisses down your body, until he sinks to his knees, “I haven’t even gotten to taste you tonight,” he mutters, thick fingers sliding your underwear down, his mustache now tickling your thigh, “would you like me to, hermosa?”

“Yes, fuck, Javi—” your head brushes against the car, barely holding yourself upright, and his mouth presses a kiss to your weeping warmth, fingers pressing the soft flesh of your thighs apart to keep them from jumping.

“You’re going to have to tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he says, voice thick with desire, your fingers fist in the soft curls of his hair, guiding him to where you wanted him. He clicked his tongue, nearly brushing against your dripping cunt, his dark eyes flickering up to meet yours, “because I don’t know you, remember?”

“Taste me,” you demand, the seething anger undermined by the breathy gasps that fall from your lips after his broad tongue takes a quick stripe up the middle of you. Your fingers form fists, pressing him closer to yourself, his head caught between your thighs. His tongue circles you slowly, painfully — barely touching your clit, before falling into the same rhythm again. Your nails dig into his scalp, “Javier—”

“Would you beg for anyone else like this?” he sucks a pretty bruise onto the skin of your inner thigh, soothing it with his tongue, “could anyone else have you like this? In public?” you know he sees your clench at the thought, “tell me, or your pretty pussy will anyway.” He noses your inner thigh, hot breath against your parted thighs.

“No, Javi,” you breathe, and his tongue flicks against you, one of your hands digging into his shoulder, “No one else, just you. Only you. Please, I—”

His tongue slides into that moment, no longer taking his time, mouth twisted around you, allowing your hands and legs to bring him closer and closer. Your hips roll against his mouth, nearly falling backwards, boneless. And his tongue retreats only to be replaced with two fingers. You feel him smile against your sensitive skin before he sucks your clit into his mouth.

“Javi, I’m—” A hand is buried in his hair, the other on his shoulder, knowing you’ll crescent indentations all over the crest of his shoulder blade, and he only seems to pump his fingers faster, until you reach that peak. And he groans around you when he hears you moan his name, your throat raw, as you steady yourself with his body. He rides out your orgasm, swallowing your essence with sloppy lips and his broad tongue.

“I will never get sick of how you taste —” he peers up at you with hooded eyes, lips shiny as his tongue darts across the length of his lips, “best pussy I’ve ever had,” He presses butterfly kisses across your inner thighs, hands rubbing up and down the length of them. Groaning, as you pull at his hair, tugging him up your body, as you pull him into a deep kiss.

You groan when you taste yourself on his lips and his tongue, which flicks against your own. Your hands smooth the front of his jeans, before massaging his prominent bulge in the coarse material, fingers toying with the button, “Sweetheart,” he warns, until your fingers tug down his pants and boxers with it, fingers immediately closing around his erection.

Swears spill from his lips as his hips stutter under your touch, tracing the large vein with your pointer finger, before you squeeze, And suddenly his large hands are underneath your thighs, hooking your legs around his waist. The tip rubs against your clit, and you suddenly realize just how hot you are. Sweaty, sticky bodies in Bogota’s impossibly humid night, sweat rolling down your bare shoulder, his head buried in the nape of your neck.

“I need you, Javi,” you admit, shaking your head, as the edge of the car digs into your ass, “please.”

“What do you want, hermosa?” he mutters darkly against your collarbone, lips an inch from yours, “you have to tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you tell him, and his cock only brushes your folds, “I want you to fill me, remind me how much you exactly know me. Never let me forget what it feels like to have you inside me—”

He growls, a growl pulled from deep in his chest, “We’ll make sure of that, won’t we, hermosa?” He slides into you, first few inches parting your folds as he grunts, “So fucking tight for me, only for me.”

He bottoms out in you, your muscles contracting around his thick cock as you take him deeper, deeper. His hips rock against you, and your warmth welcomes it, soaking wet and swallowing him. His arm steadies you from behind, wrapped around your back, your chests brushing against each other.

You can’t stop the moans from falling from your lips, echoing in silence of the night. You know he’s unwilling to let stop it, corner of his lip pulling as he watches himself fuck you harder, “I wonder if Steve can hear us, hear how good I fuck you,” you clench around him tighter, another moan pulled from your mouth, “Imagine if he walked out to get to his car, imagine if he saw us, would you like that? To see you all fucked out by me? With my cum slipping down your ankles?”

“Javier—" he lifts you higher, sliding into you deeper at this angle, and you nearly sob at the sensation, "fuck, I—"

"Tell me," he groans, as his hips begin to stutter, "tell me who can only make you feel this way,"

"You, Javi, only you," you nearly scream, as his fingers rub down hard on your clit.

"Cum for me," he grunts in your ear, as you tip over the edge, your walls tightening around him, your back arching as his arm steadies you around him. His hips continue to thrust into you, until finally they stutter, as he cums in you.

He slowly stills inside you, his breath coming in soft pants. He presses your forehead to yours, for a moment, eyes squeezed shut. He slowly eases you down, pulling himself out, as he straightens your underwear and clothes. His fingers linger at the hem of your dress a moment too long. He adjusts himself, as you lean against your own car, eyes never leaving you still.

His gaze darkens when he sees you glance at the embassy doors, "Javier—"

"Let me take you home," he says, lips pressing a kiss to your forehead, "come on. You can leave your car here." You raise a brow, as his arm wraps around your middle, "Or I'll have a buddy drop it off. Let's just go, hermosa."

You don’t argue with him, instead leaning into his touch as he leads you to his car instead, your head buried in the collar of his shirt. The smell of sex mixed with the faint scent of cigarettes is nearly overwhelming, you resist the urge to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

The car ride is silent, your head resting against the cool glass of Javi’s car. His hand grazes your knee innocently, resting there and occasionally squeezing, as if he was reminding himself that you were there — you were with him still.

As you pull up to your small house, your eyes slide over to him, as he puts the car into park. Hand still resting over the gear shifter, his eyes turbulent — but a different storm than before — not one of lightning, but one of rain.

“Javier, I don’t understand what you want—”

“Sweetheart—” You shake your head.

“No, we both agreed to keep this a secret. To just stick to fucking outside of work,” your eyes blink away memories of the first time it happened — his lips still tasted of the whiskey he had drank at the bar, yet somehow tinged with a sadness, a yearning for a distraction from all the death and danger that followed them and that they had followed — “But this — getting jealous of Carrillo? Of Steve?”

A frown twists at his lips, “I’m sorry, okay?” he leans his head back against the headrest, a sigh parts his lip as he pulls a cigarette from his pack, “Look, you’re better off with someone else—”

“I thought tonight was about proving I wasn’t,” you shifted in your seat, still sticky with the proof of that fact. His eyes snap to the movement before rising back to your face, a twitch of his upper lip, “Javier, what are you so afraid of?”

He gives a bitter chuckle, “I’m not scared of a lot of things, hermosa,”

“But you are scared of this,” you say, as his eyes fall to his lap instead, and you let it go, exhaustion pulling at your limbs. There was another time for this conversation. You open the car door, “Are you coming?”

He blinks, tilting his head, “You still want me to come inside?”

You grin, tugging at his collar, before plucking the cigarette from between his fingers, “You know me so well,” you press a kiss to the corner of his lips, hand cupping his cheek, “tell me what you think.”

#javier pena #javier peña #javier pena x reader #narcos fanfiction #narcos imagines #narcos #javier pena smut #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña imagines #Javier Peña x you #i knew i was gonna be in deep for this man #but i didn't realize how badly

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sweetalnazar · 2 years

Note

Please tell us about Mishae. What kinds of things do they do together? Does Mine meet their family fast or want to wait (aside from whatever the game does of course)? *chin hands* Go off on whatever.

Hello anon sorry for taking forever to answer this! Also fair warning, you have opened the Floodgates so let’s gooooo

What kinds of things do they do together?

Interestingly, it can be said that Mishae do nothing & everything together

Both their interests hardly overlap if ever, but neither will ever pass up the chance to take part in their partner’s interests. If they both happen to be free & one of them wants to do smth, the other will def tag along

Mine will happily help out Shae in their garden or the kitchen, while Shae will happily (tho much more cautiously) assist with Mine’s magical experiments or newest matchmaking scheme

The closest to an actual bonding activity would be taking little walks together, or just cuddling somewhere in the house

Mine + Shae's daily routines tend to vary wildly, due to their differing responsibilities and interests. Long story short, the two of them actually spend lots of time apart

It's not a bad thing though. In Mine’s words, ‘the best part of a goodbye is being able to say hello again’. Plus when the two of them reunite, they have plenty to catch up on and conversations go on long, long into the night (day?)

Also, I think one of my favorite things about the both of them is how much they bicker. It's cute, it's fun, but above all, it speaks to an underlying trust between the two of them

Shae can be as brutally honest as they like, without worrying if their lack of delicacy will affect the relationship. They’re allowed the space to be unabashedly themself, with the security that Mine will never assume the worst of them and will always put in effort to understand them, even when they feel like none of the words are coming out right

Mine is used to being the ‘mood maker’ and tends to be the one to balance out everyone else (doesn’t help she feels emotionally responsible for almost everybody most of the time). Bickering gives Mine the space she needs to be disagreeable, aggressive & maybe a little petty even. A break from the cheerful, pleasant, ever-reliable problem solver who is always at everyone’s service

Unless one of them has crossed a line, neither Shae nor Mine tend to take these arguments to heart. It also helps them both work through their respective natural aggression too

Does Mine meet their family fast or want to wait (aside from whatever the game does of course)?

Honestly, Mine could go either way, they’re cool with whichever way things end up working out

HOWEVER, both scenarios will likely have Mine panicking one way or another. She’s actually a very family-oriented person like Shae and takes things like meeting families & showing elders respect VERY seriously, as per her own culture’s traditions.

Meet Fast = Mine: "Oh shit i did not think this through and i have Not prepared the adequate buah tangan (gifts) to greet Shae’s family properly, what else have i forgotten, oh shit oh shit oh" //cue Panic

Waiting = Mine: //has prepared everything to near perfection, but will hyperventilate and pace around up until the actual meeting bc she’s busy playing every potential worst scenario out in her head

In the end, things will work out, even with classic Mine hijinks. They’re an excellent mood maker and when they’re not overthinking everything, they’re very funny & charming & can put people at ease pretty quick

Mine will likely endear themself to Shae’s family soon enough, and likewise, Shae will be the same for Mine’s own large family. Mine will work hard to ensure that Shae feels like they have a place in her family, tho it’s not too hard since Mine’s family are all supportive and everyone more or less listens to Mine as the eldest child

#ndm #ndm meta #shae the bae #ndm fan mc #Shine Mishae!#anon know that i owe u my life now. thank u u wonderful bean 💖💖#also sometimes Mishae bickering is legit just flirting #like they argue abt who gets to big spoon ALL THE TIME. those annoying lovebirds #Aífe & Keagan forever rolling their eyes at these local annoying lovebirds #mimi's originals #writing by the mims #answers by the mims #anon #mine the changeling

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becuzitisbitter · 3 years

Text

All Cops Are Bad

The last of the essays i will be posting that I wrote for school, this one is an attempt at an approachable ACAB argument (my professor said that she was persuaded, at least)

There is an old slogan with roots at least as far back as the 1920’s and is yet becoming more and more popular across the globe today: “All coppers are bastards.” Of course, most people just say “cops” these days. The extensive history of the slogan might even make one stop to wonder why the police have been the object of such long-standing antagonism, if one isn’t the sort to grasp the slogan’s truth intuitively. The reality is that all cops really are bastards, not in a literal sense, of course, but in the derogatory usage which communicates despicability. The goal of this essay is to convince the reader that the police are bad and that policing should be done away with entirely. After all, the police present themselves as the vanguard of the state’s repressive urges and as the guarantors of an order defined by deprivation and violence.

Olivia B. Waxman, writing for Time Magazine, points to economic forces as dictating the development of the means and aims utilized by policing institutions in the U.S. She writes that businesses had already been hiring private security to protect the transport and storage of their property, and that, “These merchants came up with a way to save money by transferring to the cost of maintaining a police force to citizens by arguing that it was for the “collective good.” (Waxman) In other words, America’s first publicly funded police force was simply picking up after the work of private businesses to protect their own property, but with the cost foisted upon those who were being kept out. She continues this economic argument as she traces the lineage of the modern police force back to its forerunners in the Southern runaway slave patrols. She writes, “the economics that drove the creation of police forces were centered not on the protection of shipping interests but on the preservation of the slavery system”. Thus, the primary policing institutions in the South were the slave patrols, the first of which was formally established in 1704. (Waxman)

The police developed historically to enforce property rights rather than to ensure the wellbeing of the populace. If it is understood that white supremacy encodes human skin with either privilege or dispossession, it should be understood that, as Mariame Kaba writes in an opinion piece published by the New York Times, “when you see a police officer pressing his knee into a black man’s neck until he dies, that’s the logical result of policing in America. When a police officer brutalizes a black person, he is doing what he sees as his job.” (Kaba) Kaba is an organizer against criminalization and a self-described police abolitionist because she believes that “a ‘safe’ world is not one in which the police keep black and other marginalized people in check through threats of arrest, incarceration, violence and death.” The police, then, are not focused on creating a safe world. They are interested in preserving the world as it is, which demands a tacit defense of misogynistic and white supremacist institutions.

Regardless of personal attitudes or goals, the undeniable outcome of two hundred years of policing in America has been an uninterrupted avalanche of mostly arbitrary violence aimed at preserving the rule of law, that is, the sanctity of private property. In just the last year, the discourse about the role and place of police in our society has exploded with new questions and new ideas. What makes this conversation so powerful is that the police are considered so essential to the functioning of the modern world that the abolitionist movement must necessarily carry indictments on many other institutions and ways of relating that are bound-up with policing.

Of course, many readers will be quick to react defensively. Most disagreements with the argument presented here will take one of two forms: the claim that the argument over-generalizes police, and the claim that the police fill such an essential role that society couldn’t hope to provide an acceptable standard of life in their absence. Both will be addressed below.

The former argument comes in many varieties. One might even say, “It is unfair to judge such a large group by the actions of a few bad apples,” without being aware that they were reversing the meaning of the idiom they are attempting to make use of, which actually originated as “A rotten apple quickly infects its neighbor,” according to Ben Zimmer, who is a linguist and language columnist for The Wall Street Journal. (Cunningham) Regardless of the backwardness of this idiom, many would maintain that it is wrong to generalize police or stereotype their actions based on our perceptions of a few bad actors. Some police may abuse their power, or harbor prejudice, many readers would contend, but most police officers are decent people doing their best under difficult conditions. The truth, however, is that literally all cops bring about harm simply by doing the jobs that they signed up for. To go a step further, even if every police officer were to act in good faith, the task of maintaining a status quo defined by inequality would still force officers into the position of beating the cold, poor, and hungry back from the resources they need to live comfortably. This world of deprivation is not worth defending, and yet every cop has signed up to defend it. Some readers might still say that to pain the police with such a broad brush, is to commit an act of prejudice on par with the attitudes the police are criticized for, but they are grasping at straws. No one becomes a police officer by accident. By switching careers, they could avoid such judgement entirely. One wonders if they would feel the same about criticizing other groups which are entirely opt-in, such as MS-13 or the Taliban.

Could there ever be such a thing as a good cop? No. Here is one example that I think demonstrates a larger principle: even if a given police officer is a dedicated and educated anti-racist, the logistical deployment of police departments across the US places more officers in poor neighborhoods and communities of color than in wealthy or majority-white areas. This means that even the most kind-hearted police would be more likely to detain or arrest poor people and people of color than affluent whites. This is only one facet of a fundamentally unjust system. The development of police departments as racist and anti-working-class institutions across History means that they are structurally and institutionally racist and anti-working-class in the here and now. Police departments continue to defy reform because the problem is intentionally encoded into their purpose. They must be done away with entirely.

When a protestor or graffiti artist echoes the old slogan that, “All cops are bastards,” it is an expression of a tautology. Like the phrase “All triangles have three sides,” the slogan contains its own truth. All triangles have three sides because it is part of the definition of triangles to have three sides. We can’t even conceive of a triangle with four sides because by having four sides, it would cease to be a triangle. Despicability is written into the definition of policing because the aims of policing are themselves despicable. Any cop that ceased to work toward the aims of policing would cease to be deplorable, maybe, but he would also cease to be a cop as surely as a triangle with four sides would cease to be a triangle.

The second primary counter argument to criticism of the police is that the police are a necessary evil, essential to protecting us from a rousseauian war of all against all. This assumption that humanity could not get by without police seems silly, after all, the police are only a modern institution, hardly a blip in humanity’s story. It has already been shown that the police were not created to protect the average person from harm, but to protect private property rights. In any case, a counter argument from consequences is not the same as a refutation. One need not know the correct answer to a problem to recognize a wrong one. When asked, “What would you do with the psycho serial killers?” one should be unabashedly honest about not knowing the answer because there is no one answer. The answer to each problem can only be located in the context in which the problem occurs. This reflex to reach for a one-size-fits-all answer for all of life’s problems, along with its concomitant desire to preserve the tedious “peace” of the status quo, do a lot to explain the psychology of pro-police arguments.

Neither the means nor ends of policing are acceptable. The forces that shape and control our world, be they corporate or political, tower over us such that we only ever meet with their basest appendages. The police are their piggy-toes, pun-intended. Admittedly, the arguments presented here will be significantly weaker in the mind of anyone who really feels good about the state of the world which police maintain, however little is likely to be gained in dialogue with someone who could maintain a positive view of concentration camps, needless and ceaseless killings, the continuation of slave labor in the prison system, mass food-insecurity, etc.

It is incumbent upon each of us to improve the world around us. The police are an impediment to a better, safer, freer world. They are antithetical to equity, autonomy, and community; that is why all who fight too hard for a better life eventually find themselves faced with the police, one way or another. Nevertheless, while so much hangs in the balance, we can’t let the bastards get us down.

Works Cited

Olivia B. Waxman. “How the U.S. Got Its Police Force” Time Magazine, https://time.com/4779112/police-history-origins/ Published: 5/18/2017, Date of Access: 12/2/2020

Mariame Kaba. “Yes, We Mean Literally Abolish the Police” The New York Times, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/06/12/opinion/sunday/floyd-abolish-defund-police.html Published: 6/12/2020, Date of Access: 12/2/2020

Malorie Cunningham. “'A few bad apples': Phrase describing rotten police officers used to have different meaning”

https://abcnews.go.com/US/bad-apples-phrase-describing-rotten-police-officers-meaning/story?id=71201096 Published: 6/14/2020, Date of Access: 12/2/2020

#school #homework #essay

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shijiujun · 4 years

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the only one (on my mind)

Lu Yao chases away four blind dates set by his sister in the same restaurant. Chusheng is the owner of said restaurant and decides to rescue Lu Yao from his fifth one after witnessing all of them.

@sarah-yyy for your chuyao fix hopefully? XD

“Chusheng-ge,” says the waiter at the door, who comes forward to take his jacket.

It’s still early yet at Qing Ling Tian, a traditional Hu cuisine restaurant and bar set in one of the tallest skyscrapers in the city in the middle of downtown Shanghai. Chusheng walks in, and immediately is greeted with the bustle of a packed hall tonight as well.

Qing Ling Tian is not one of the best restaurants in Shanghai for no reason — with the grand decor that is the retro style inspired from Republican-era Shanghai fused with contemporary elements, and having hired some of the best chefs in the region, Chusheng is proud to say that they’ve had full-packed reservations for three years running now, be it usual dinners or even wedding banquets.

While patrons go about their meals on the first floor, immersed in the warmth and liveliness of it all, the second floor features a much more sedate vibe. There’s a main space where the bar counter is, and the private dining rooms can also be found on this floor. Customers who wish to have a more romantic and quiet dining experience are usually found here.

As he approaches the bar where Liu Zi, his star bartender, is working behind the counter tonight, Chusheng’s eyes fall on a familiar figure seated in the corner of the room, and he doesn’t know whether to feel exasperated or fond.

He settles for something between both, and Chusheng doesn’t even know the man.

“He’s here again?” Chusheng asks, sitting down at the counter and gesturing towards the tall, handsome man with his date, comfortably settled around a two-person table not too far away from the bar counter. “Who is it today?”

“Another young, rich heiress forced to meet him for a blind date,” Liu Zi rolls his eyes, placing a glass of whiskey on the table before Chusheng. “Your boy is trying his best in chasing her away this time too.”

“He’s not my boy,” Chusheng raises an eyebrow, taking a whiff of his whiskey. “I don’t even know who he is.”

Well, that’s not quite accurate. Chusheng knows of the man — Lu Yao, the youngest son in the well-known Lu family that has managed to produce powerful politicians and army commanders with every generation — because this isn’t the first time he has brought a blind date to this restaurant.

Lu Yao is a bit of an oddball, according to those who mill about in the higher echelons of society, so to speak. Despite being a rich young master, he ran away from home after he finished high school and managed to flee all the way to the UK and Cambridge for university, where he supported himself without taking a dime from his family until he graduated with no less than three degrees under his belt.

Lu Zifu, Lu Yao’s father, then forcibly dragged him back to Shanghai, whereupon he began finding matches for his youngest son.

It seems that with his two older brothers, Lu Sen and Lu Yan, so successful and working in the army and his older sister, Lu Miao, a high-ranking government official in the incumbent party, Lu Zifu doesn’t have much high hopes for his youngest son except to have him enter a beneficial matrimonial partnership with another woman. Of course, the old man isn’t quite as cruel to have his son marry someone he doesn’t like, and thus, why continuous blind dates are being strangely and repeatedly held at Chusheng’s restaurant.

In fact, this is the fifth one, if memory serves Chusheng correctly. It was pure coincidence, the first time Chusheng witnessed Lu Yao and his blind date of the evening at the same table, a few weeks ago.

It wasn’t anything to cry home about — matchmaking and blind dates are still incredibly common and Chusheng has heard his fair share of blind dates gone wrong happening in his restaurant. On two occasions even, the disastrous date even escalated into fights, so it’s not as if he’s a stranger to the farce of terrible blind dates.

Lu Yao, however, is unabashedly a piece of shit, a spoilt brat, a vainpot and a greedy little thing — and the man has no qualms flaunting any of these qualities.

He’s a smart piece of shit though, and while he’s shameless, every time Lu Yao does something ridiculous, Chusheng can’t help but want to indulge him.

—

First Date

“How about we get to know each other first, Lu-xiansheng?”

“Sure,” Lu Yao nodded, setting his drink aside. “Firstly, I don’t have a car, or any property to my name. I probably won’t get a huge cut out of my dad’s inheritance when he dies. I’m a poor academic, and my dad doesn’t think very highly of me. If you want to get some money out of this arrangement, you’re out of luck. I don’t intend to find a well-paying job either, because I’m happy pursuing an academic career. In fact, you will have to give me an allowance to support me-“

Chusheng watched then, a little flabbergasted at the sheer audacity of this young, able-bodied and obviously capable man, and with no shame at all, how he tried to badger his way into a marriage that would keep him in the most comfortable of conditions, without consideration for the lady at all!

Understandably, when Lu Yao entered his second spiel without allowing the woman to interject even in the slightest, she got to her feet and stomped out of there.

“Useless asshole!” she spat as a parting gift.

Once she was gone, Chusheng noted with some interest that Lu Yao’s haughtiness seemed to fade away as he deflated entirely into the seat, pressing his fingers to his temple and downing his entire drink in one shot.

His phone rang then, and Chusheng could hear a woman’s sharp voice berating the man on the other end of the line, no doubt to yell at him for fucking up the date so badly.

“Aiya, Da-jie, I didn’t do it on purpose! If she cannot accept me for who I am, it is not true love!” the man whined, obviously trying to play the fool.

Chusheng remembers turning away at that moment, trying to hide his smile in his drink.

—

Second Date

“I think we both know we’re here at the behest of our parents,” the blind date of the week said coolly. “How about we make do with each other to get our parents off our backs? You can continue living your life and I continue living mine.”

Lu Yao nodded, “Sounds good to me.”

“Well, the only condition my parents have is the dowry. Given your family’s status and wealth, I think this,” and the woman holds up three fingers. “Shouldn’t be an issue.”

“Thirty thousand?” asked Lu Yao.

The woman’s face whitened almost immediately, but she continued, “You must be joking. The Xiao family is also considered one of the wealthiest families in the city. My parents will accept no less than three hundred thousand for my marriage into the Lu family.”

Lu Yao pretended to consider this, before he replied, “Think about this! You’re the CEO of the Xiao family’s banking empire, and in comparison, I’m just a student who’s looking to complete his PhD. I have nothing to my name, not even a single property! Don’t you think you should be paying my dad the dowry instead? I feel more like the one who's marrying out of my own family and into yours.”

Chusheng watched as Lu Yao got a cup of iced water to his face then.

The woman was as vicious as the first one when she said, “Shameless!”

—

Third Date

“So I hear that you want a dowry and an allowance,” Blind Date Number Three said, flopping into the seat opposite Lu Yao’s an hour late.

“Of course,” Lu Yao said matter-of-factly. “I’ve never had to serve someone else. I’m the youngest in the family, if I’m not doted on then who should you dote on?”

Chusheng could tell that Lu Yao was feeling rather pleased about this meeting because from what the woman said, it seemed he was gaining a reputation for himself, one that would hopefully ensure women stayed far, far away from him.

“You’re honestly starting to get a reputation,” the woman said as much, but she didn’t seem all too put out by Lu Yao’s demeanour. “If that’s what you wanted, congratulations. What’s good to eat here, I’m hungry.”

Lu Yao blinked, his interest piqued slightly.

“Well, I’m fond of the Ba Bao La Jiang, but… I’m not-“ he began, and the woman cut him off, “Yeah, yeah, you won’t pay. Geez, my treat, since I’m late. I was dragged here by my older brother while I was at an e-sports gaming competition, and I just want to eat.”

They didn’t talk much after that, busy stuffing their faces with food. It was then that Chusheng found himself staring at Lu Yao’s blissful face as he almost cleaned out half the plate and three bowls of rice on his own.

—

Fourth Date

It was Lu Yao’s turn to be late for this one, and Chusheng noted that he was in a bad mood today, for he wasn’t even turning on the i-am-so-innocent look with his blind date.

The moment he sat down, Lu Yao began, “Yes I want a dowry and a comfortable allowance. I’m kind of useless and entirely shameless, but I still want both of those things. If I want a baguette in the middle of the night, you have to get it for me. If I see an expensive Armani suit in the windows while I’m walking on the streets and want it, you should get it for me. If I’m hungry and want to have dumplings bright early in the morning before I wake up, I want you to get it for me. If I see something that scares me, you have to protect me.”

“And lastly, if I want you to give me your wallet, you should just give it to me,” Lu Yao finished, leaning into the back of his seat. “If you can do all of that, I’ll go to the Marriage Registration Office today with our hukou ben.”

The woman didn’t seem surprised at his outburst, and with a sigh, she commented, “I’m only here out of a favour for Lu Miao, we work together. I’ve obviously heard of your penchant for being incredibly demanding, and wanted to see it for myself. Doing this though… don’t you think you’re bringing shame to the Lu family?”

“Every single one of your siblings is successful in their own right, I don’t know how they ended up with you,” she said. “At the very least, you should be mindful of keeping the reputation and honour your family has painstakingly built over the years intact.”

“I’ll settle the bill for this one.”

That evening, Lu Yao got so drunk that Chusheng took it upon himself to send him home, not that the man remembers it.

—

And so here they are, two weeks after that sad blind date that probably hit a little too close to home for Lu Yao, on his fifth date.

This time, however, it seems that this woman isn’t as easy to dismiss as any of the previous ones. Chusheng suspects that there’s something wrong with her, to be honest.

“Lu Yao,” the woman says seriously, “I’ve been in love with you since I saw you at a family’s gathering when I was eight. I’ll treat you well, I promise! I’ve heard of all the conditions that you want, and I can fulfil all of them.”

Well, that is something none of them are expecting, least of all Lu Yao. Looking slightly stunned, Lu Yao sits up in his seat, and goes, “Everything? You’ll give me your wallet? How much dowry?”

“All of it! It’s not like I can’t afford it,” she nods enthusiastically. “I’ll do anything for you, Yao-gege.”

Lu Yao almost flinches when the woman reaches over, her hand tightly gripping his.

“Don’t you remember? It was dinner at the Feng mansion, you surely remember Feng-bo, right? I fell down the stairs when one of the other kids shoved me to the side while he was running, and you were the one who came over and helped me find my mother. You protected me, Yao-gege. I’ve always remembered that, and then when I heard you were looking for a match-“

“-I’m not, my sister and my father are looking for a match for me-“

“-I knew I couldn’t let this pass up. It’s okay if you don’t love me right now, you’ll see how much I am willing to do for you, and given time, I’m sure you’ll start to love me.”

Oh dear, Chusheng thinks as he sets his glass down.

—

“I can’t,” Lu Yao blurts out, snatching his hand back, properly spooked. “I’m… Chen Xue, you’re… I cannot marry you.”

“Why not? You said that as long as someone agrees to all your demands, you’ll marry them immediately! Is it because I’m not good enough?”

“I- I’m… No, of course not, you’re great, Chen Xue. I’m just… I cannot-“

What a time for his wilfulness to come back and bite him in the fucking ass, Lu Yao thinks, about to panic for real.

“If I’m great, then there should be no issue,” Chen Xue concludes, reaching over to grab Lu Yao’s hand again. “Yao-gege, let’s go now. We can get married today, and deal with the huge wedding and banquets later.”

He’s done for, Lu Yao knows that, and damn Lu Miao for finding him an obsessive match!

Just as he’s desperately thinking of something to say, a shadow falls over them both, and Lu Yao finds himself with another hand over his wrist.

Looking up, his throat goes entirely dry.

“He can’t marry you,” the tall, dark and handsome man says. “Because he’s going to marry me instead.”

Then smiling almost roguishly at him, the man continues, “Isn’t that right, baobei?”

Lu Yao feels shivers running down his skin at the sound of that, and despite himself, his breath catches in his throat when he tries to speak.

He remembers this man, sitting at the counter quietly every single time Lu Yao is here, nursing a glass of whiskey. And just two weeks ago, Lu Yao remembers someone buckling his seatbelt for him in the car, remembers the scent of a specific aftershave as the man leaned in close, and his voice when he told the driver to send Lu Yao home.

“Who the hell are you?!” Chen Xue asks, her eyes going wide. “What nonsense are you saying-“

“Yes,” Lu Yao interrupts, getting to his feet and plastering himself to the man’s side. “Yes, that’s right. I can’t marry you because I’m going to marry him instead. I’m sorry, Chen Xue.”

Chen Xue is silent for a whole minute, looking entirely betrayed. It’s a look that Lu Yao is familiar with, and so he prepares himself for the glass of water or wine that’s going to be splashed in his face in anger, but the moment Chen Xue reaches for the wine glass, the man next to him pulls Lu Yao behind him.

“Chen-xiaojie, wasn’t it? Qing Ling Tian welcomes any and all paying customers, including yourself, but I will not allow you to cause a scene here,” he says. “Please put that down.”

Shaking angrily, Chen Xue scowls, “I want to see your manager! Who the hell are you to talk to me like that, do you know who I am?”

Lu Yao’s hand unconsciously reaches for the man’s jacket sleeve, tugging in fear of the trouble this woman obviously is. While he’s grateful that the man has given him a way out, Chen Xue is indeed the daughter of one of the ministers sitting in the cabinet right now, and even Lu Zifu has to play nice with the old man. Lu Yao doesn’t want to get this nice man into real trouble either.

He opens his mouth to appease Chen Xue somehow, but the man beats him to it.

“Of course I do,” he says, cocking his head to the side. “Chen Xue, Chen Fu Man, Minister Chen’s only daughter. Lao ye-zi has a standing monthly appointment with Chen-shu for mahjong if I recall correctly. As for speaking to the manager, I’ll do you one better. I’m the owner of Qing Ling Tian. Is there something I can help you with?”

At this, both Chen Xue and Lu Yao stare at him, eyes wide and mouths open.

“You’re… you’re…” Chen Xue swallows, and finally putting the wine glass down. “You’re Qiao… Chusheng? Bai-shushu’s…”

“Indeed,” Chusheng nods. “If there’s nothing else, Chen-xiaojie, I’d like to have a nice dinner with my fiancé. Let me have Ah Dou escort you out. Ah Dou!”

“Chusheng-ge,” another man comes over from where he was standing at the entrance of the room.

“Escort Chen-xiaojie out and get Xiao Yun to send her home,” Chusheng orders.

So stunned at the turn of events and what he’s just found out, that Lu Yao doesn’t even move or blink after Chen Xue is forcibly guided out of the room for a good few moments.

It’s only when he hears a breathy chuckle close to his ear that Lu Yao realizes where his fingers are, still pinching Chusheng’s jacket sleeve. As if burnt, Lu Yao steps away, absolutely mortified. Chusheng, Qiao Chusheng, just saw him make an absolute fool of himself.

“I- I…”

“Sit down before you keel over,” Chusheng says, guiding him back into his seat and then to the waiter standing near them, “Da Ding, clear this table and have a fresh course brought up. The Fo Tiao Qiang soup that Lu-xiansheng likes to eat as well, and some of Man-jie’s best dumplings.”

Lu Yao looks up in surprise. He’s speechless still, until Chusheng pushes a glass of warm water over to him.

“Thank you, for helping me out earlier,” he mumbles, embarrassed. “I… I must have caused a scene.”

“No worries,” Chusheng smiles, and damn if Lu Yao’s heart doesn’t skip a beat at that. “Glad that I could help. Lu Yao, is that correct?”

“Mnn,” Lu Yao nods, taking a sip of the water nervously.

“Will you consider going out with me?” Chusheng asks sudddenly.

Lu Yao chokes on his water.

It’s Chusheng who pats him on the back, who presses a napkin to his mouth and looks at him a little fondly while he’s having a coughing fit. When Lu Yao surfaces again, he croaks, “What?”

“I won’t make you go to the Marriage Registration Office with me immediately of course,” Chusheng continues as if this conversation is normal. “We should probably date first, and then if we still like each other after a few, we could set up a meeting between our families and see how it goes. I’m certain your sister would like to take a look at me first, and the same goes for my sister. She’d like to meet you first after.”

“Wait, wait,” Lu Yao tries to breathe. “Hold on a second. You’re saying, like date me?”

“Mnn. Do you think I jest? I’m all for showing my sincerity,” Chusheng smirks almost. “I have a few cars and properties, and I can put your name on any of the ones you like next time, so you don’t have to buy your own. I earn enough, so you can happily pursue your doctorate if that’s what you want. If you don’t, there are a number of open finance-related positions in my company for you to do what you do best.”

“How did you know I have a finance degree?!”

Chusheng raises an eyebrow pointedly and goes, “Blind Date Number Three asked you what your hobbies were and you said ‘making money’ because ‘that’s what I got my degree for’.”

Lu Yao flushes red immediately.

“If you’re marrying me,” Chusheng continues, “Of course the Bai family will give you a dowry and an allowance, just take any of my cards, that should be enough.”

“Who said… who said I was marrying you?!” Lu Yao splutters. “And you’ve been listening in on my dates!”

“It’s a little hard not to listen in when you’re going on so righteously about how you want someone to give you all their assets and pamper you to death,” Chusheng rolls his eyes a little.

“And that night, it was you?”

“Which night?” he teases, and then taking pity on a Lu Yao whose face is entirely red now, he nods, “You were very drunk that night and thought that you called for a ride. You showed your Didi Chuxing app to me yourself with your address on it, I didn’t steal information from you.”

Finally, finally, after so many blind dates, Lu Yao is quiet.

Wondering if he’s scared Lu Yao off for real, Chusheng opens his mouth, ready to try a softer approach and apologize when Lu Yao asks, “… so if I really want a baguette in the middle of the night you’ll get it for me?”

“… I hope we’ll already have a baguette in the house for you seeing how much you like them,” Chusheng answers carefully, “But yes.”

“And if I want dumplings in the morning for breakfast?”

“I’ll call Ah Dou and have it brought in from the restaurant.”

“I don’t like Armani suits, but if I wanted something expensive…”

Chusheng takes out his wallet, and slides three credit cards over the table.

With wide eyes, Lu Yao asks again, “And if I asked you to give me your wallet-“

The wallet lands on the table in between them.

“As for the last one,” Chusheng smiles and leans forward, “I think I demonstrated earlier that I’m more than capable of protecting you whenever you’re scared. Don’t you think? So do I pass?”

The food comes then, interrupting their conversation. Chusheng doesn’t press either, instead scooping out a bowl of soup for Lu Yao and insisting that he eats, knowing that he couldn’t stomach any of his meal earlier with Chen Xue.

At the end of the meal, Lu Yao finally says, “… I want to go to the movies next week.”

“Mnn,” Chusuheng makes a noise of assent. “I’ll buy you dinner before that.”

“I’ll buy the movie tickets and popcorn,” Lu Yao adds, almost a little shyly.

When they leave the restaurant later, Chusheng is holding onto Lu Yao’s hand as he leads him out.

The warmth he feels from that touch alone makes everything right suddenly, and not even his phone continually vibrating in his pocket from his sister’s calls can dampen his mood.

===

*Qing Ling Tian 青玲天 - I guess it's a way for Chusheng to pay homage to the Green Dragon gang 青龙帮 not that he's in a gang right now (he's totally a legitimate businessman)

*Shanghai's cuisine is called Shanghai Cai (shanghai dishes literally), but also can be called Hu Cai (hu cuisine)

*Didi Chuxing - This is China's version of Uber/Lyft/Grab

*hukou ben - In brief, all Chinese citizens need to belong to a family register and have a 'hukou', it's almost like a proof of citizenship I think. Anyway, you need these 'hukou' booklets (like a birth cert) to get married, you bring the booklets down to the office, and take a photo against a red wall, and they print the photos and paste them in the booklets.

*-jie/-shushu/-gege/-bo - older sister/uncle/older brother/uncle

*baobei - darling or baby

#民国奇探 #mriad #my roommate is a detective #chuyao #qiao chusheng #lu yao #mriad fic

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oddlyhale · 3 years

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Changing Clover Ebi (so that I can like him)

So, I don't like Clover Ebi all that much. I don't like a lot of things about him, so I am just dropping notes of another AU idea I had of him, reconstructing him to help me like him more but in my own version.

🍀 Clover is his name, Gotoku is his last name. He's a tall cat Faunus, with a history of good luck running in his family. 🍀 He is known as the "Lucky Cat," a man who works alone to steal from the rich and give to the poor. Mantle is under the personal protection of this Lucky Cat, as many of the residents of the city speak fondly of the mysterious vigilante. Meanwhile to residents of Atlas do not favour the Lucky Cat, finding him to be nothing more than a filthy criminal. 🍀 Clover Gotoku's lineage goes further back to Old Remnant, as well as referring to the real story of the Maneki Neko's origin story about the Gotokuji Temple and the samurai. The Gotoku lineage all share the same semblance of "good luck" but in a variety of different ways. Some of them can give longevity, others can protect against illnesses and diseases. For Clover, he had the gift of happiness. 🍀 Clover is not easy to find, as he shrouds well in the shadows and can vanish quickly. The only way one can find Clover is if Clover, himself, seeks them out instead. 🍀 While James is aware of the Lucky Cat, he doesn't find him to be a major threat. Sure he is a master thief, but was also seen to be a valuable asset to their plan of getting the Lamp back from Salem without conflict, if possible. If Clover was truly the best, then he could steal the relic back. 🍀 Clover agrees to help, but only if James and the council help the people of Mantle be safe. In a tricky way, Clover can get the relic, but he won't give it to any Atlesian until Mantle is under tight security from Salem. Keeping his word, James agrees and Knights are sent down to Mantle to keep the people safe. 🍀 The person who first suggests the idea of a master thief helping the Atlesians is Winter, someone who's also been intrigued by the Lucky Cat. She would be the one to give the mission to Team RWBY, "find the Lucky Cat and give him this scroll. It'll tell him everything." 🍀 After some convincing of locals, the only thing they could tell Team RWBY was that "the Lucky Cat always moves between dawn and dusk." It didn't take long for them to realize it meant midnight. Successfully, the kids located the Lucky Cat in an alleyway, already having an armful of stolen goods. 🍀 The kids recognized that Clover always wore a mask of a smiling cat, eyes closed and mouth curved into a sweet smile. 🍀 Clover wasn't pleased to be found by the kids - even more annoyed that Weiss used a Cage summoning to trap him. He wanted nothing to do with the kids until they brought up Atlesians. Piquing his interest, Ruby handed Clover the scroll and told him about what Winter said. Unabashedly, Clover responds, "oh finally! She's starting to notice my advances! I've been dying to get her to respond to my admiration for months now." 🍀 Getting the message and agreeing to follow Team RWBY to the Atlesian Tower, finally, James and Winter meet the infamous Mantle thief. Clover was very interested in this heist, but couldn't help but get distracted by his little crush on Winter. He admits that he is aware of how she's been trying to track him down, purposely making it difficult for her to find him. He likes her but doesn't trust Atlesian Police. 🍀 Clover and Qrow do meet, but Qrow isn't at all impressed with the guy. He doesn't enjoy Clover's good mood very much, feeling as though it's annoying. Clover is always happy - even likes being a morning person. That was already a cardinal sin to an overly tired Qrow. He promises to have patience with Clover's ego, however, for Jim's sake. 🍀 Clover's entire allusion is based on Maneki Neko's origin story and location.

That's all I got so far, may add more later on.

#rwby #clover ebi remade #qrow branwen #winter schnee #james ironwood #tough luck

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starlightxsvt · 4 years

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The Tale Of A Coffee Shop

Pairing: Joshua x Female reader

Genre: Fluff, slight crack, bad attempt at romance, this is just bad

Warnings: Slight cursing

Word count: Idk, it's pretty long

8:35 am.

He should be here anytime. Your palms sweat, foot taps excitedly against the floor of the cafe. Though there's a lack of mirror, you try to smooth your hair with your hands, unnaturally cautious about your appearance.

"Calm down. It's not like he's gonna propose you or shit."

You turn to face your coworker who has a less than amused expression on her face. "Am I that obvious?"

"Duh. It's like written all over your face. Chill already y/n, he's just a man passing by. You don't even know his last name."

Your hopes shrink slightly though you are surprised at yourself. What are you actually hoping for? Him to ask you out? Your coworker is right, he's just a man passing by. Except, he's regular customer who's insatiably handsome and makes you all jittery.

The said male is Joshua, an English professor at the popular university near the cafe. That's all you know about him. He happened to pass by your workplace one spring morning, looking for a quick jolt of caffeine to start the day and he's been visiting ever since. He visits the cafe 3 days a week, around 8:30 in the morning, ordering his usual plain latte.

After the first couple visits, you made small talk with him and all he offered was his name and profession. He always seemed to in a hurry or busy but he was always polite.

And the most handsome man you have ever seen. He had luscious black locks which were somehow messy yet neatly arranged and touched the nape of his neck. His eyes always seemed to sparkle, hiding a galaxy of their own. High cheekbones, a perfect jawline, plump lips and to complete it all,an adams apple - he had it all.

His outfits were always neat and perfect, sometimes a trench coat covering a turtle neck, sometimes an unbuttoned blazer over a plain tee and of course, a wrist watch. Sometimes he'd wear glasses, big metal frames covering those eyes and those days you'd melt into a puddle on the inside. He looked so damn hot.

The bell at the door of the cafe chimes and your ears perk up, eyes moving to that direction.

He's here.

You try your best not to look like a love struck fool and offer a professional smile. "Welcome, sir."

"Hello, y/n. My usual please." comes his smooth voice and a polite smile.

"Yes sir, coming right up." You mutter, trying not pass out from the way he said your name while putting in his order.

He waits at the corner tapping away on his phone while his latte is prepared. Once it's done, you call his serial number, offering him his drink. "Your latte, sir."

"I've told you before, Joshua is fine."

You stare at him for a bit too long not understanding that he asked you to call him by his name. However, when you realize that, you are a blushing mess, unsure what to reply.

Joshua doesn't say anymore, only offers you a kind smile. And just like that, he's out the door, leaving you feeling warm all over.

"That was the most cringy thing I ever saw." Your co worker's voice brings you to reality. You roll your eyes and continue your work with a smile in your face.

✧

"You seriously need to stop thinking about that dude all the time." You friend says standing in front of you, crossing her arms.

"I do not think of him all the time." You say, ignoring her and squinting at the book in your hands.

"Then great. You are coming to the club with me tonight. I'll introduce you to some guys and I don't know... get you laid."

"Excuse me?"

"Okay okay, not get laid, just... Meet some guys you know, what's the harm in that? Do you wanna die virgin?"

"I-"

"Don't." She holds up her hands signaling you to stop. "You are coming. It's final. Thank me later when you find a hot dude."

✧

Hot dude my ass. You stare at the drink you got after getting away from your friends who were having too much fun getting drunk. You had almost zero alcohol tolerance and you knew that you had to stay sober to get them home safely.

As you had expected, none of the guys your friend introduced you to piqued your interest. You realized what a bad idea it was to come to the club rather than staying at home, curled up reading your favorite book. As the thrum of the music continued to blast through the club your thought only proved to be truer. But your friends wasn't leaving this place anything soon.

Damn you hated it here.

You realize someone sitting down on the barstool next to yours but don't look up, too busy tracing the edge of the glass in front of you with your fingers. It's until you move your head to take a swing of your drink that you take notice of the person beside you.

A small squeak leaves your mouth as you look at the man sitting beside you, thinking that the couple drinks you had got to you and started playing with your mind.

It was him. Joshua. The English professor.

You quickly cast your eyes back on your drink but then glance a peek at his direction just to make sure.

Of course it's him.

Joshua sits there, oblivious to his surroundings, eyes on his phone. Your heart races. What is he doing here? Did he notice you?

You swallow, trying to calm your beating heart. Why do I feel like this? Maybe he didn't even notice me, I'll just finish this drink and leave.

You take another tentative glance at him, who is still busy on his phone. His hair looks a little bit messier than usual and his face looks a bit tired. He has his jacket draped across his lap and the white tee shirt he's wearing gives you a nice view of his arms. You don't realize you are staring unabashedly until he speaks, "Penny for your thoughts?"

A squeak leaves you and you almost fall off the stool.

"You've staring for quite a while. What is on your mind?" he says, putting down his phone and turning towards you.

You let your head hang low as a wave of embarrassment washes over you. "I'm sorry," you whisper.

"No don't be. Funny meeting you here though."

You look up to meet his eyes and it feels like your heart has traveled to your throat as you try to come up with a reply. "Y-yeah."

"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself."

"I-... Yes, I'm not."

He chuckles softly and reaches for his drink as the bartender places it front of him.

"What brings you here?"

"Well, um, my friend wanted to introduce me to some guys so she dragged me here with her and none of the guys piqued my interest and I didn't like sitting with them so I'm here."

You really need to stop talking.

Another soft chuckle escapes him and he asks, "What kind of guys pique your interest then?"

You. You do.

"I... I'm not really thinking about dating right now, I'll graduate next month and I want to focus on finishing college and getting a good job."

"I see. What is your major?" he asks.

And that leads to a rather long conversation between you and him,which you obviously didn't mind, about your major -literature- and what inspired you to study that and so on. Since the both of you studied the same subject you had a lot of common grounds to talk about.The conversation went on and you felt happier than ever. You really needed to thank your friend for dragging you here.

And just when you think that, you hear her voice, "Y/n!"

Oh shit.

She appears behind you, a drunk mess and rests her head on your shoulder garbling drunk nonsense. You realized it was time to go before she embarrassed both of you in front of Joshua. You stand up abruptly and give an awkward nod to Joshua to looks at the two of you with an amused expression.

As you drag your friends to their car, there's a tinge of disappointment that you couldn't be with him longer but also an excitement that fate had given you such a chance.

✧

Couple days later Joshua arrives earlier than his usual time at the cafe. You were clearing orders for the first few customers and when you look up hearing his voice, you swear you can die right there happily.

He wasn't in his usual look, rather a black shirt and a black shiny blazer hanging on his arm that matches his pants. His hair was neatly back brushed to one side but some locks managed to escape and you smell a hint of his cologne. You stared at him shamelessly, cheeks flushed.

"Y/n. Y/n?"

"Y-yes?"

"My usual, please."

"Oh, yes... of course."

You fumble, putting in his order and peeking glances at his direction. You knew you were acting like a deprived, shameless woman but you could care less. You don't know if he realized you were checking him out but even if he did, he didn't say anything.

As you hand him his order, he murmurs a thank you and asks, "When do you close?"

"Huh?"

"This cafe. When do you close it?"

"Oh, um, we take customers until about 10 pm. Then we clean up."

"I see. Thank you."

He turns around and leaves, a few heads turning towards him as he does so. You stand there, confused as to why he'd ask that.

"That was a goddamn piece of snack right there. " your co worker chirps as Joshua leaves the cafe.

"Seriously?" You raise a brow at her.

"It's fucking true. I mean look at him. He has heads turning around as he walks by."

You couldn't argue with that.

✧

It's almost 10:30 in the night and you are having quite a trouble cleaning up. It's the weekend night and there were more customers than usual, which was the thing you hated about working full-time during the weekends though the payment was good. You wipe the counter, sighing, your back muscles tired from a long day.

The bell at the door rings, slightly irritating you.

Service is over damn it.

The last person you expect, walks through the door. Your mouth hangs open and a small gasp leaves your co worker's mouth as you both stare at the person. It's Joshua.

"I'm sorry, sir, we're closed." You manage the words out.

"Could I maybe, have a word with you?" He asks, ignoring what you said.

"Uh-um, sure. I- I just have some things to finish up." You stammer, your heart beating way too fast to your liking.

"Good. You don't mind if I sit, do you?"

"N-no, of course not."

You turn to face your co worker who stares at you with wide eyes.

"What the fuck is going on?" She whisper-yells.

"I have no idea!" You reply back.

You finish your work quickly, your heart hammering the whole time. Once you both are finished, your co worker starts to dress up, ready for home. She gives you a good lecture to lock up properly before taking off.

You stand behind the counter trying to even out your breathes, eyeing Joshua who sits at the table by the window.

You swallow and free your hair from the ponytail, smooth it down and walk over to him.

"H-hey."

"Oh, hey." He looks up at you gesturing you to sit. You take a seat in front of him on the couch. He doesn't say anything but looks at you with a subtle smile.

"You look different," you blurt out, indicating his look.

"Oh yes, I had a meeting at the university."

"On the weekend?"

"Apparently, yes."

"So, uhm, why are you here?" You fidget rubbing your hands together, feeling nervous.

"I wanted to see you." He replies casually.

You almost choke on air.

"Last time we didn't get to finish our conversation and you seemed like an interesting person."

You flush, almost not believing your own years.

Joshua runs his hand through his hair then rests his hand under his chin, looking directly at you.

"I'll be honest with you, you've been on my mind a lot lately, Y/n."

You stare at him, mouth hanging open.

Did he just really say that?

A soft sound comes from outside and you both turn your heads to see it has started to rain outside.

"I want to date you, Y/n."

Holy-

You gasp and a nervous laughter escapes you. "I, um, I- uh..." You don't know what you are trying to say.

He laughs softly, "I know you have a thing for me. Your stares aren't that secretive, you know."

You blush furiously, looking down at your lap, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's cute." He laughs.

You meet his eyes, trying to find out words to say.

"So what do you say?"

"I... mean, we barely know each other... "

"Isn't that why people date?"

"Yea, right."

"Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No!" You gasp out, afraid that he'll leave. "I just, I don't know what to say."

Joshua offers you a kind smile and to your surprise he stands up and sits beside you. He softly strokes your hair, his eyes on yours.

"I mean it, I want to date you."

You stare at his eyes, transfixed. The sparkles in his eyes, the fact that he was so close to you made your brain fizzy and heart skip beats.

He softly leans down, his eyes on your lips, "May I?"

Oh my god.

You nod without a delay and he captures your lips in a kiss. He tilts your neck gently cupping behind your ear. Your hands find purchase on the lapels of his jacket as you let him kiss you.

When you pull back, you feel like you are burning from embarrassment. The night is silent other than the sound of rain outside and you are scared that he can hear your heart beat.

"Did I convince you?" He asks tilting your head upwards.

"Yes." You whisper, feeling your insides warm up.

And without thinking much, you grasp his jacket and pull him in for another kiss. You can feel him smile against your lips and it only urges you to go on.

As the night proceeds you rest your head on his shoulder, intertwine your hands with his and watch the rain outside. You felt slightly overwhelmed with joy as you talked with Joshua about anything, your heart skipping beats every now and then. Maybe this is what it felt like to be in love.

You look at his face taking in the details as he softly talks about his favourite novels and such. You only hope you can look at his face and feel his warmth in the coming days.

A/N: Hello everyone, this is my first tumblr fiction so I'm sorry if it wasn't so good. I hope you continue to support my blog. Your comments are really appreciated! >< 💕

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kylo-hen · 4 years

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The Milk Man

A/N Hello I wrote this while I was in a Sackler mood yesterday at like 4 am and its the first actual smut I’ve written so bare with me! There is quite a bit of build up because for some reason I love establishing characters. It’s also vaguely plus sized!reader but not strictly! Anyways, hope you enjoy & my inbox is always open for requests/feedback.

Adam Sackler x Reader

Summary: You run into an intense man in the dairy section in the dairy isle one Saturday Morning, and by Saturday Night he’s in your bed.

Warnings: SMUT! Spanking, name calling, Oral (F receiving), hair pulling, longer build up, and oat milk.

Living in New York has its odd challenges here and there. There aren’t dishwashers in unit, rent is the price of one’s soul, people were colder, and grocery shopping was a drag. This Saturday morning was supposed to be relaxing, no work, no designs, no awkward booty calls from dudes I met in the club a moth ago looking for some action. It was all looking up until I looked in my fridge and remembered the Wednesday ritual was pushed back because of a meeting.

With a groan I resigned myself to the reality that I would have to do some chores before I could allow myself the relaxing pamper day I deserved. Once I was out of my apartment, down a couple blocks, and at the grocery store I was relieved to know that on a Saturday morning it was pretty empty. Only a couple people that really just ignored each other as they passed in the cereal isle or the small produce section.

It was an overall normal trip until I made it to the dairy section. There in front of the large selection of milk stood, what I could only describe as, a smoldering giant hunched over a comedically small phone.

Usually in this kind of situation I would let them be, but he just happened to be in front of the only brand of Oat Milk I actually like, so it seemed like I would have to wait it out. This dude, however, was not one to mind social cues. After what felt like five minutes of awkwardly waiting off to the side for this dude to get the message and move on from the last bit of the store I needed before I could get on with my day, I decided he wouldn’t move without a nudge.

“Ehm,” I cleared my throat softly, hoping that would alert him to my presence, “Excuse me.” The man barely grunted, acknowledging I was there but continuing to frustratedly channel into whatever he was doing on his phone. “Excuse me?” I said louder, hoping to get a civil response.

“What the fuck do you want?” He finally snapped at me, actually turning to look at me. That was also the first time I was able to see him fully. The man was hot, I’ll give him that much. His tall frame matched by solid muscle, a tasteful amount of facial hair that suited the intense features, and now a scowl. A scowl that was presently pointed in my direction while I ogled at him. “What the fuck do you want?” he demanded again; this time much harsher. I took a step back, not really expecting this full-bodied giant to be yelling at me on a Saturday morning in the grocery.

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself trying to dip into some of my confidence I gained in the years living here and finding it much harder to let his anger flow off my skin as it usually does. “I’m- fuck- I just need some of the oat milk and you-“ I rambled on but stopped at the sound of a deep sigh from the man in front of me. “I’m sorry, I’ll just-“ I abruptly turned, figuring the milk wasn’t even worth it anymore. The experience spoiled any hopes for a peaceful day, and the faster I made it back to my apartment the faster I could wallow in the new mood crashing over me.

“Wait, shit!” I heard from behind me before I felt two large hands brace my shoulders. One thing the man didn’t expect was for my self defense lessons to kick in the second he grabbed me. I swung my elbow into his stomach, well because of his height it ended up being more of an elbow to the man’s balls. As I turned and backed away from him, I noticed in his hands he had the milk I was looking at earlier. Shit fuck fucking shit fuck! He was trying to give me the fucking milk!

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry fuck, shit!” I moved to help him stand up, his face beet red a twisted up as he processed the pain, I unintentionally put him in.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned out while he took some deep breathes, “I, fuck you’re a good shot… I just wanted to give you the fuckin’ milk.” He muttered out, still mostly bent over. Guilt washed over me in waves. I just attacked the poor guy trying to give me milk, even if he yelled at me earlier. Fuck, I can’t believe I just did that. My body heated up in shame, burning from the inside out, hoping that I could just melt within my own skin. The day only getting worse by the minute, I prayed that I would get to my apartment in peace so I wouldn’t cause any more damage.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” I said again, not being able to emphasize it enough, as he began to recover more and more, and stand taller but not his full height, “Thank you for the milk.” I said still feeling the dark pungent shame in my chest. As he stood up more and more, he handed me the milk.

“Don’t-“ he breathed sharply, still regaining his footing after being in pain, “Don’t apologize kid.” He muttered the name out at me and I wondered how old he was suddenly, or how young I looked trembling in the middle of the grocery store. “I was a dick.” He breathed and straightened fully, towering over me.

“No, no, “ I denied his apology, shocked that he wasn’t pissed anymore, “I shouldn’t just go around attacking people, you didn’t deserve that.” I took the milk that I realized he was trying to give me still.

“Nah, don’t sweat it kid,” again with the fucking nickname, oddly enough it lit a fire in me somewhere I hadn’t felt in years. “I should’ve known better than to just grab a lady.” He smiled at me, chuckling at his own joke and I smiled with him. His moods sending me for a bit of a loop, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle myself.

“I still feel bad,” I admitted to him, he tilted his head curiously, “could I get you a cup of coffee or something?” I offered, hoping that he wouldn’t be too offended by the offer. Something about this man was drawing me in, his effect leaving me wanting more and more. What the hell is going on with me today?

“Oh, I don’t drink coffee.” He stated, rejecting me bluntly and with that statement. The shame bubbled hire a fire burning in my cheeks whether he can see it or not I was embarrassed. Another time I put myself out there, thinking I read a situation one way, and it going very differently. My eyes suddenly very interested at the floor rather than the attractive man before me. “Shit,” he muttered to himself, “Not, I don’t drink coffee but maybe we could get lunch or some shit?” he offered with a cocky smile.

My eyes snapped up to meet his, a warm feeling that for once wasn’t shame flooded my veins, I smiled at him in return, “Yeah we can get lunch and shit.” I replied easily, proud of myself for regaining some of that confidence I usually held. But then I remembered where we were, and that I had a cart full of groceries I needed to get home, it seemed he was coming down in the same way. “Actually…” I trailed off, not knowing his name.

“Adam.” He answered and shook the milk carton playfully in lou of my hand, “Adam Sackler.” His crooked teeth poking out through his smile making my heart pound faster in my chest.

“Adam,” I hummed, testing out the way his name felt on my lips. It felt like they were always meant to say his name. “Since you don’t drink coffee, which seems sac religious to me,” I allowed myself to flirt with him, testing the water, “And I’ve got a shit ton of groceries to put away, what about dinner tonight?” I asked.

He laughed, unabashedly checking me out, my chest tightened hoping he liked what he saw, “Fuck yeah, dinner sounds great.” He replied confidently, boosting my confidence.

“Alright Sackler, it’s a date.”

After exchanging numbers, into his comically outdated flip phone, we decided to meet at the grocery store before dinner. I rushed home to clean my apartment, a girl can be hopeful, and get ready for any outcome of the date. It had been months since any person had given me any romantic indication, dating apps had long since run dry and I was tired of having to explain my size to people before they met me. Rarely after meeting someone, in real life, had they shown as much interest that Adam has shown me in the last hour. That meant I was hopeful and hope was a dangerous game for a girl like me.

By the time it came to meet up with Adam I was a nervous wreck. My brain kept trying to convince me of the worst-case scenarios as I made the walk to meet up with him. All of those thoughts seemed to fade to black when I saw him. He was dressed casually, as I was as well, in a pair of dark wash jeans and a white t-shirt. He smiled when he saw me approaching, he perked up from where he was leaning and met me halfway.

“Sorry if I’m late, there was a man trying to save the turtles outside my apartment and I’ve already out run him twice so he’s out for blood.” I joked when he was finally close enough to me. He laughed at my ice breaker, and I thanked all the powers at play that he had a sense of humor, he was shaping up to be quite a catch as long as his mood stayed up.

“Don’t sweat it kid, I got here early anyways. Fuckin’ in my bones at this point with acting and shit.” He grumbled the last bit as he flailed his arms about. An actor? I’d never actually been on a date with an actor before, I mean with there being globs of them in the city for Broadway and whatnot. I always assumed they were stuck up about looks, and if anyone could be Adam was definitely a hot enough actor to be picky.

“You’re an actor?” I asked coyly, hopefully digging deeper into the mysterious moody man. “Yeah, also do some other shit.” He answered vaguely which only drew me in deeper to the mystery of this man. Who the fuck is he? And why the fuck is he so hot? “I know this diner just a couple blocks that way, does that sound good?” He asked considerately, and in that moment, I swear I could marry him.

“Fuck yeah, I know exactly what you’re talking about, Lou’s is a fucking gem.” He responded with a grin, wide and unabashed, that made my heart flutter. But even when I made my way that direction, he kept his gaze on me, not in a creepy way but in a refreshing way. He acted like if he didn’t take all of me in now, that I would disappear forever, or that I would have been a figment of his mind. When I looked back at him a moment of sadness crossed his features, maybe it wasn’t sadness, maybe it was fear. He looked so young for just a split second, and I saw him, I really saw him.

So instead of saying anything I simply reached out and offered my hand, and he grabbed it. With that we began walking back in the direction of my apartment on the way to the diner, and throughout the walk we talked about meaningless things like the mean lady that lives in his building to his morning run routine. I kept it light, trying to stay away from sticky topics before we sat down, but I also wanted to actually know who I was going out with.

Once we were seated, the games began. Adam and I ordered before we got into a grittier subject matter but instead of just asking, Adam wanted to make it more fun. So, like middle school girls at a sleepover, Adam suggested we play truth or dare.

“Truth.” I stated with no hesitation, what could he even dare me to do right now? It’s not like anything juicy could happen while we were in public.

“Oh, come on, you scared of what I could dare you to do?” He taunted at me, still flashing his signature crooked grin.

“I’m giving you an opportunity to ask me whatever you want Sackler, use it wisely.” I goaded him testing his waters, watching his reaction to see if he was game. His eyes trailed down to my shirt. Bingo, he’s interested.

“Alright Kid, when was the last time you got laid?” He went straight out of the gate with a sexual question. The longer I spend with him the more apparent it becomes that Sackler might be a little sexually deviant, that thought only escalated the fire burning in my belly.

“It’s been about six months since I got laid,” I started, “But about a year since I actually, let’s say, enjoyed getting laid.” I clarified, feeding into the building sexual tension.

“Hmm, that’s a crime,” he responded, trailing his eyes over every part of me visible across the booth, “They should be punished for leaving a woman like you unsatisfied.” He murmured, leaning forward tracing a finger along one of my hands placed on the table. Every light touch, even if it looked innocent, felt dirty and drenched in the want I had for this man.

“Truth or dare Sackler?” I angled my torso to him so he could see down my shirt, I could see his reaction, his eyes start to glaze over, his mouth open, ready. I had never been with a man so openly affected by me and at every move I took the opportunity to tease him.

“Fuck, Truth.” He said, not really paying attention to what he responded with but more paying attention to the parts of myself I was revealing to him.

“What do you think of me Adam?” I asked softly, some could even say sensually, as I retracted my hand and my body, ripping away the points of contact that he was latching to physically and visually. He suddenly retreated his stance as well, looking me in the eyes to see a knowing smile already dancing across my features. He groaned playfully, knowing he played right into my hands.

“Fuck, kid, what do I think of you?” He asked redundantly, “For starters I think you’re the biggest fucking tease and if we weren’t in public right now, I’d put you over my knee and punish you.” He began, speaking in a low threatening tone. Every word, every syllable, every fucking letter sent a shockwave to my core, shaking my resolve and tumbling every other instinct down. I let a soft delicate whimper, only loud enough for him to hear, pass my lips as I closed my eyes and leaned my head back to take in what else he was saying. “You’re a tease, but you’re also fuckin’ gorgeous.” I snapped my head open, not expecting a real genuine compliment from the sexual haze we were in.

“What?” it slipped out of my lips before I could really do anything about it.

“Kid,” he began, by putting his hand on top of mine and staring so far into my soul I felt like I was naked in front of him, “You’re so fucking beautiful, like I- I saw you this morning and fuck I think you might actually be perfect and fuck! Like even if you’re not, you’re better than that.” He said and I couldn’t remember the last time I had ever felt like this, maybe never. He was so different, and intense, but funny, and God I want to sleep with this man, but I also want to cook dinner with him and see how he likes his eggs, or what his favorite book is, and who hurt him. I want him, and he wants me.

“Thank you,” I began, getting a bit shyer under the smoldering chestnut eyes, “I don’t think anyone has ever called me gorgeous before, or if they have, I can’t remember.” I explained, trying to brush it off as a joke, but he doubled down.

“They must be blind kid, or stupid.” He chuckled to himself, “Probably fuckin’ both.” He smiled, and I smiled back, bursting at the seams, but before I could respond our waitress came with our food.

The spell we were under before we got food was somewhat broken when we were eating, returning to the more casual atmosphere, talking about our jobs and whatnot. He was really interested in knowing more about my job which made me feel almost as special as before the food came, but I kept it to surface details for now. Adam had a lot of weird habits from what I could tell, he cursed like a sailor, and he got super intense then switched back to normal out of nowhere. Yet, despite all the odd facts this man drew me in every time he opened his mouth, he had me on the edge of my seat constantly. Throughout the meal I couldn’t help but wonder, what’s going to happen next?

When we both finished our meals the tension from before began to seep back into the conversation in doses. By the time the waitress returned with the check it was pretty clear Adam was ready to get out of there, and I wasn’t much farther behind. While Adam went to fish for his wallet, I threw enough cash out on the table to cover both meals, not wanting to linger for change. Adam looked like he was going to protest, but I just offered my hand out to him.

“I asked you out,” I explained, leading him out of the restaurant and back on the sidewalk. “Its only polite I pay since I invited you out.” I turned to him and realized he was much closer to me than expected. He took a step closer to me and his long shaggy hair began to cover his face.

“I guess I’ll just get it next them then kid.” He offered with a smile and I looked away, feeling an excitement bubble through me for more. “We never did finish our game.” He said not teasing anymore, I looked at him and pondered for a moment before answering his unspoken question.

“Dare.” I said confidently this time, leaving him to smirk down at me in pride. He puffed up his chest and moved even closer. He leaned in like he was going to kiss me but just before he allowed our lips to finally meet, he stopped.

“I dare you to kiss me.” His gruff tone sending my nerves haywire, a chill running down my spin at the command. His eyes darker than I had seen them, only balanced by the smirk on his lips daring me, goading me to follow through. The final straw was the sensation of his hands settling heavily on my waist, keeping me steady and sure as I surged forward and planted my lips on his.

From there he wasted no time gaining access to my mouth and invading each of my senses one by one.

Touch; the feeling of his tongue languidly pushing against mine, fighting a war for dominance and winning without hesitation. His hands finding themselves roaming over every point of my body, and mine deeply nestled in his hair.

Sight; the possibilities of what comes next floating by in my head in vivid detail. The sheer number of ways this encounter could finish, all unbelievably tempting.

Sound; the deep velvet groan from his dulcet tones when I tugged on his chestnut locks, the whimper that snuck out of my mouth when his hands made home on my backside.

Smell; the dark woodsy pine notes of his cologne mixed the sweet vanilla of my perfume creating an intoxicating scent.

Taste; nothing I’ve had in my life could compare to the taste of Adam on my tongue, the feeling of wholeness only grew. My wanting grew with it, wondering if Adam tastes good now, what other perverse acts would taste even better.

Eventually the heated kiss broke, and the depths of Adam’s eyes told me everything I needed to know in that moment. “My apartment is just a block that way.” I spoke breathlessly, pointing behind us in the direction the night would take place. He threw his head back with a groan, a sight that sent shockwaves of anticipation through my body and to my center. He nodded his head furiously.

“Fuck yeah kid, lets go.” He spoke, pulling me along with my hand to head in the direction of my apartment. By the time we made outside my apartment and pulled out my keys Adam sprung into action, pulling my back to meet his front allowing me to feel the full effect I’ve had on him throughout the night. His errection dug itself into the curve of my behind and suddenly I realized just what I would be dealing with for the night. Adam Sackler is fucking hung.

His kisses trailed up my neck, his hips grinding into my body and the noises he was making were borderline pornographic. The task of opening my door was lost as I allowed myself to lean back into the pleasure, he was giving me. His hand trailed down my arm slowly as he sucked on a particular spot behind my ear that made my knee buckle in bliss. His hand wrapped around mine, that was still holding the keys, and raised it to the door.

“If you don’t unlock that door now, I’ll fuck you in the hallway.” He threatened, no doubt in my mind he would follow through with the threat. I quickly refocused on getting my key in the door and getting this man inside.

As soon as the door was shut, he had me pressed against it, mouth pushing against my own once again, but now his hand travelled under my shirt kneading my breasts in his large sturdy hands. I reached, clawing at his shirt to come off as he unclasped my bra from the back, which only succeeded in turning me on. Once his shirt was removed, he made quick work of mine, stopping only to marvel at the sight of my topless body. He stared for just a moment too long, doubt flooded my veins and my throat tightened at another failed encounter where someone didn’t like what they saw.

Just as I resigned myself to my own fate, reaching down for my shirt, Adam took both of my wrists and pinned them above my head. Once again pushing me against the door and pinning me from any other means of movement.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he demanded with a dark grit in his voice I had not heard before, his fire like anger only lighting the fire of hope in my belly once more.

“I thought,” I started and as soon as I began to speak, he ground his erection into my core, effectively beginning my decent into madness. “Fuck, Adam that feels good!” I cried out rather than explain myself.

“Come on little girl,” He teased breathlessly into my ear, obviously enjoying the act as much as I did, “Explain yourself to me.” He spit out all that came out of my mouth in return was a needy whimper and shuttered breath. It set my body on fire, turned my bones to jelly as he shifted to hold my weight for me.

“I- fuck- I thought you didn’t like it.” I said softly, simply as the pleasure built with every thrust of his hips against mine. My back arched as he slowed to a stop, my eyes shooting open to see him looking down at me with furrowed brows.

“You thought I didn’t like your pretty little tits huh?” he looked down at me, and I nodded softly, shyly up at him and his eyes softened slightly. He made the move to prop me up against the wall and move his body down. He kissed his way from my jaw down to my chest, finally settling with both his hands caressing my breasts. “You have,” He punctuated it with a small suck on my chest leaving a hickey a few centimeters above the nipple, “The most,” He took his sweet time worshiping every square inch of my chest, “Glorious tits I’ve ever fucking seen.” Finishing it off with an intense attachment to my nipple that sent earthshattering shockwaves throughout my body from the first real contacted pleasure Adam had given me all night.

“Please, baby girl,” he murmured against my tits as he moved further down my body, “Let me eat your sweet little pussy.” He spoke, the dirty message matched only by the lewd and carnal tone he spoke with. Before he could anywhere with my pants, I took his hands and began leading them to my bedroom, which wasn’t too far away.

He followed like a lost puppy trailing its owner, looking at me with wide and hungry eyes, taking in every movement my body made. As soon as I laid back in the bed, he made quick work of my pants, pulling them off with my underwear in one swoop. I let him handle me however he wanted and he moved with swift expertise that had my core drenched by the time he was done.

With his hands stabilizing my hips, keeping them pinned to the bed, he sat between my legs admiring the sight laid out before him. He smirked at my disheveled appearance, trying desperately to hold on to my sanity and he hasn’t even laid his hands on me. Suddenly his tongue was on me, taking one long stride of my core before focusing on my clit.

“Fuck yes!” I shuttered out when he brushed his tongue in a zig-zag on my clit before detaching with a sadistic chuckle. He explored every part of me, places no man had ever considered now have me careening towards the pit of bliss at lightning speeds. He took his time prodding at my hole while swiping his nose at my clit and in that moment, I swore no one was better at this than Adam fucking Sackler. My hands twirled themselves into his hair tugging harshly, making him pause for his own pleasure. Only then did I notice his gyrations on the mattress himself, which sent my mind into an overdrive of pride and arousal.

“Your pussy tastes so sweet for me baby girl.” He hummed smugly into my pussy, the vibrations bringing me that much closer to the edge. He looked up at me, watching me fall apart as he brought his hand to my entrance working in a finger, beginning to stretch me out for him. “Your pussy’s tight, that for me?” He spoke, knowing I was way too close to orgasm for me to respond with anything but whimpers of his name mixed with any expletive that comes to mind.

“Adam,” I called out, tightening my hands in his hair, trying to signal him for more. “Please!” I cried out, his pace slowing to a teasing momentum before he added another finger without warning. My head tilted back, losing all sense but the sense he was feeding me through his ministrations. I was teetering a dangerous ledge and with every thrust of his fingers he brought me to the edge. He took one last thrust of his fingers hitting the deepest part of me, paired with his tongue swiping my clit and the damn burst within me.

Euphoria was flooding my system; I was floating in orgasmic bliss surrounded by nothing by the feeling of Adam bringing me through my haze and the smell of sex mixed with his cologne. After what felt like a lifetime of bliss, I felt him begin to kiss his way back up my body, taking special care of my stomach, sucking hickeys along the way.

“You’re so good at that.” I murmured, still coming down from my high. He chuckled into my neck before coming up to my face and planting a big kiss on my lips. I immediately responded, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and bringing him flush to my own body. I could taste myself on his lips, his facial hair still coated in a layer of my cum, which only added to the kiss. “Adam, I need you to fuck me.” I said as I broke the kiss. His eyes lighting up again like in the living room, he moved away from me to finally take off his pants.

“Condom?” He asked as he stood in his boxers, outlining his prominent erection pulsating in need. I only shook my head, moving to the edge of the bed where he stood to palm him over his boxers.

“I’m on the pill.” I whispered seductively in his ear, he nearly doubled over in pleasure once the statement registered in his brain. He wasted no time taking my hips and twisting me around so I was on all fours before him. A deep feeling of butterflies reverberated in my stomach as I arched back into the hands he planted on my ass. He let himself groan at the sight of me before him once again, this time he had his hand moving over his thick cock.

He rubbed the head of his dick over my pussy before catching it at my hole and pushing forward. The sting of him stretching me was not lost on him as he braced himself around me, caging me into his dick. He hissed as I clenched around him, trying to accommodate the difference. “Fuck your pussy’s so fucking tight you’re gonna squeeze me out.” He gritted out through clenched teeth, waiting for my signal to go ahead. His dirty comment only helped relax me, sending me spiraling in euphoria.

“Adam, I need you to move.” I whined out, desperate for the friction he was made to bring me. He pushed farther and farther in until he was buried at the hilt. Both of us shuddered out, he filled me to the brim, his body made for mine in ways I had never felt before. Suddenly he pulled back and slammed back in with a deliberate force, landing perfectly on my G-spot. I cried out his name, the only thing I could remember at this point.

“Yeah, yeah that’s it,” He praised my squeals of pleasure, “Say my name you fucking whore.” He spit out making my pussy clench around him in absolute pleasure. The way his hips slammed against mine, the way his hands groped at the cheeks of my ass, mixed with the things coming out of his mouth sent me into another dimension. “You like that you little slut? You like when I call you dirty little names?” He prompted me, adding a harsh slap to my ass to punctuate his thrusts.

“Yes!” I cried out, burying my head into the sheets, letting Adam have his way with me exactly how he wanted. “Yes, I love being your little slut! Fuck!” He landed another spank, jolting me forwards on his cock. He retaliated by taking charge with my hips once more, grunting out insults mixed with praise.

“Are you gonna cum? You gonna cum on my fucking cock you whore?” He stopped his thrusts, teasing me and my climax fading. “If you want to cum on my cock, fuck yourself on it.” He demanded, his hands kneading and soothing the damage he caused my backside already. I began rocking back on his dick, creating a similar rhythm to before. The harsh slaps echoed around the room and the lewd situation escalated my frenzy. “That’s its little slut, you’re fucking yourself so well.” He lost himself in the pleasure of it all, meeting my thrusts halfway.

“Adam,” I moaned out, feeling the same euphoric anticipation building in my gut, I escalated the force trying to push myself to the place of bliss. “Adam, I’m going to cum!” I announced feeling the cliffs edge building and building. His hands trailing up my back and grabbing a fist full of my hair and pulling me flush against his chest, changing the angle so he was pushing deeper inside me.

“Cum for me little slut.” He commanded, another hand wrapping around me to rub my clit in time with his thrusts. The bubble built higher and higher until I felt myself release for the second time that night. His thrusts continued, faltering as my body spasmed in absolute satisfaction, his grunts of pleasure travelling into my ear as he chases his own high.

As his hips begin to falter their rhythm, he pushed into me for one last time before he let go and painted my insides with the ropes of his cum, marking me from the inside out. He wrapped his arms around me, collapsing us both on the bed, his cock still inside me, beginning to soften as he spoons me from behind. Our highs collectively lower and he is left trailing small kisses on the back of my neck and shoulder.

“Where have you been all my life?” I joked once the atmosphere was returning to normal. He chuckled out, squeezing me into his chest even if I didn’t necessarily fit, and shifted his hips away from mine for the first time slipping out of me.

He moved to look at me properly before saying, “Brooklyn.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought, my inbox is always open!

#adam sackler #adam sackler x reader #fluff & smut #smut #slow-ish burn #The Milk Man #Girls HBO #adcu #reader insert

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lexsssu · 4 years

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Only You (Simeon [Shall We Date: Obey Me] X Reader) III

You are three years old when your parents move to a quaint apartment apartment complex near your father’s workplace. You meet many new neighbors, but the one that stands out to you is the little boy with eyes as blue as the heavenly sky that angels probably see from their perch up above the world of man.

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You are five when you get lost within a sunflower field with him. Though the flowers obstruct your sight, your eyes still stay upwards, unwilling to allow yourselves to be overcome by despair. You simply emulated the sunflowers around you, always looking towards the sun.

You don’t notice the eyes that never leave your form as you led their owner with confidence and optimism.

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You are ten when one of your classmates always goes out of his way to walk with you to the gates after classes. He’s a nice boy, a bit mischievous but which boy wasn’t at this age? Then again Simeon was of course one of the exceptions to this, but of course how could any boy compare to him? Even as you speak of trivial things concerning your classes with him, it is all for the sake of being polite to one of your peers because as soon as you spot that familiar shade of blue you immediately bid farewell before joining the brunette at the gates.

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You are fifteen and too immersed in your studies to enter a good university to even think about getting into a relationship. Despite the several hopeful boys who confess their romantic interest in you, they are all respectfully rejected regardless of their looks and or personalities. When Simeon enters his first ever relationship, you congratulate him for finally allowing himself the joys of having a partner, remarking how perfectly he seemed to fit with his new girlfriend despite the twinge in your heart whenever you see them together.

You simply attribute it to the fact that you weren’t used to...sharing him with others is all. Aside from academic matters, you were used to hogging all his time and attention considering that Simeon never seemed to be opposed to dedicating his free time to you.

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You are twenty when Simeon finally receives the recognition his works deserve. Even if you couldn’t attend the awards ceremony in person, you are glued to your seat all the same as you watch him climb those steps and stand at the podium with his award in his hands. Though he cannot hear you, you shout and clap all the same after he makes his speech.

Though a screen separated you both, you hoped that he could still feel all the happiness you felt for him during this momentous occasion as he finally received recognition for all the blood, sweat, and tears he poured into his writing.

You think back on those sleepless nights, those warm cups of tea, and even stacks of pancakes drizzling with golden syrup after yet another frenzied writing spree that had the brunette foregoing sleep to finish another chapter.

Even as many of your loved ones attend your post graduation party, there is only one person your eyes would continuously scan for through the throng of people. When you spot him standing by a corner, you make some half-baked excuse before slipping away from your current conversation partner.

Perhaps it was all the joy contained in your body, but you unabashedly throw yourself at him and as expected he catches you easily as if you weighed no more than a feather in his arms.

There is warmth that begins in the middle of your chest, slowly seeping out and expanding towards the rest of your body the longer you stay nestled within Simeon’s arms.

The rest of the world seemed to melt away in that moment.

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You are twenty-four when you run into Simeon’s arms in tears.

You don’t remember what had finally pushed you over the edge that day, perhaps the burdens of adulthood had piled up to the point that you were simply too tired to face your troubles alone.

Nestled within the brunette’s arms, you allow the familiar scent of warm honey and mellow tea fill your nostrils. It is a scene and a scent that is all too familiar to you by now and yet you can never tire of it.

Though he is gifted with his words, he knows there is no need for them when you bury your face into the expanse of his chest as if unwilling to face the world and seeking sanctuary in his embrace.

Right now there is only you and him.

That was how it was and that is how it should be.

Yes, that’s right.

It has always been just you two from the moment you first met.

So many people come and go into our lives, but Simeon is the constant fixture that has always been there. Regardless of circumstances, he’s always been there and ready to drop everything in a moment’s notice as long as you ask him.

When you finally lift your head up, there is a glint in your eyes that he takes note of and yet is unable to put a name to.

Part I

Part II

#lexsssu writes #reader #x reader #reader insert #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall we date obey me #obey me simeon #shall we date obey me simeon

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khadij-al-kubra · 5 years

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Worst Impressions are the First (ch 6)

Main Characters: Logan, Patton, Roman, Virgil (Human AU)

Pairings: Romantic LAMP

Words: 5518

Author’s Note: *Shuffles in, hijab haphazardly wrapped, wearing a fleece hoodie over rumpled pajamas, carrying a mug that reads “I write, what’s your superpower” and wearing one slipper.* Hey folks. So um. Yeah. I know it’s been, well, a LONG while. Apologies. I have no excuse other than this last semester of grad school and my part time gig kicked my ass, stole most of my free time, and possibly my left shoe. But I haven’t forgotten this fic or all of you incredibly wonderful and patient readers. And trust me when I say that I have made the wait worth it. Plus I’m on break now and already plotting out the next chapter, and I know exactly how I plan to progress with it, right down to the number of chapters left. Can I get a wahoo? *Yawns and takes a long drink of strongly brewed black tea* Once again, thank you SO much for your patience and love, and enjoy the lovelorn chaos from our favorite gays. ^_^ (also, if for some reason the tag link isn’t working for you, please let me know)

AO3

<=PREV

Chapter 6 - (POV Patton)

The fire in your eyes

Like a grave digger’s lantern

Your passion revives…me

“Gosh dang it, one syllable too many,” Patton muttered to himself over the notepad.

He felt a staccato of taps on his arm; a signal for when the world was silenced by Patton’s big headphones and Roman wanted to talk to him. He took them off, giving his soulmate his full attention. That was still so nice to say and put an actual face to. My soulmate.

“Problem, dear heart?” Roman asked from the seat next to him. The new term of endearment made Patton blush, but he loved it.

“Nah, just tweaking a new haiku,” he said. “I want it to be perfect for my muse.”

Now Roman was the one blushing. “Well I’m sure when it’s done it will be as wonderful as everything else that’s made by your hands.”

It had been barely two days since he and Roman discovered they were each other’s soulmates (or at least one of them), but since then they had spent every spare moment getting to know each other. From walking to classes together to spending free periods together, and Patton’s mother had even insisted on inviting Roman over for dinner just last night. When Roman had complimented the pasta Patton helped cook, saying he could taste the love poured into each noodle, his heart felt near to bursting. It was such a short amount of time getting to know each other, yet Patton felt as though he’d known Roman for eons all throughout past lives.

Who knew being with your soulmate could make you feel so alight inside?

“Thank you for sneaking me your Tupperware of leftovers, Patton,” said Roman, covertly twirling his plastic fork into the spaghetti under their table.

“No problem, kiddo,” said Patton.

Technically they weren’t allowed food in the library during study hall except for water. Unless you had a blood sugar problem or something. Still, Patton was willing to break a tiny rule if it was for his soulmate’s well being. And maybe myself, he thought, sneaking bites from the napkin cookies on his lap.What? He’d had an Algebra test that morning. He earned a treat or two.

“Mom’s right, I do need to pack fuller lunches. I don’t know what’s up with my appetite lately. Least I’ve still got my figure.

“Maybe it s a puberty thiiiiiohmygosh it’s him.”

“Him who?”

“Look, but don’t look, over your shoulder.”

Roman sneakily looked over his shoulder and saw what Patton meant. It was Logan Berry, in all his brilliant glory, pulling out a book from the chemistry section. He looked lovely as always in a cream colored blouse, mint green skirt, and cherry blossom patterned neckerchief. The yellow gems of his bumblebee hair clip glittered under the ceiling light as it kept the ebony bangs out of his eyes.

Yet there was something off about Logan today. His face was neutral as always, but Patton noticed there was something slightly somber in his posture.

“Isn’t that supposed to be the school genius or something?” Roman asked.

“Debate club president,” Patton said wistfully.

“I’ve heard about his through tech club. He is really pretty! In a nerdy way.”

“Yeah, he sure is a lovely creature of nature.” Patton said with a sigh.

They must have been whispering louder than he realized, because suddenly Logan’s head was turned, and he was looking curiously at Patton. Oohhh gosh golly. He half hid behind his copy of Wuthering Heights.

“Patton my dear, you sound positively smitten.” Roman said, turning back around. “Not that I blame you really.”

Patton chuckled, unable to stop staring at his crush. “Guilty. Have been for awhile.”

“Say, you don’t suppose Logan could be one of our mysterious shared soulmates, maybe the one from yesterday, do you?”

“Maybe, but I don’t think we have the same lunch time as—Ohhh Lemony Snickett, he’s coming this way!”

“What? Here? Now? Does my hair look good?”

Patton considered himself to be pretty good at reading people on an emotional level, but Logan was usually like a tightly bound journal, difficult to look into. Except this time it was clear he did not look too happy with them. Before he could gage deeper as to why, Logan was at their table. Patton had never been this close to Logan before, never had the chance to make real mutual eye contact.

Logan’s stoic gaze went back and forth between them. His brave little Prince was mumbling Disney lyrics under his breath and clearly trying so hard not to clam up. Guess it’s up to me. Patton grasped for some sort of ice-breaker good enough for Logan. Something friendly, intelligent and totally not off-putting like he normally was.

“Umm…cookie?” Patton asked, holding up his cookie napkin in peacemaker offering.

“I don’t appreciate being stared at and spoken about behind my back.” Logan said sharply, staring pointedly at him.

“So that’s a no on the cookie.” Patton said, shrinking back.

“If you have something to say, you can express your mockeries to my face, because frankly I am in no mood for ignoring judgmental comments today.”

Ouch! Logan had never come across as the friendliest person ever, but Patton was definitely not expecting him to speak so coldly upon their fist meeting. And it hurt. Or it would have more so if Patton couldn’t tell from the look in Logan’s eyes that he was actually upset about something more than just people whispering.

“H-hey, don’t talk to my soulmate like that!” Roman said, voice cracking. He was loud enough to be shushed from another table. Yet for once, Roman didn’t duck his head down in shyness. “I-in fact, you shouldn’t talk to anymore like that, or make such harsh assumptions yourself, Mister Sub-Astute-Teacher.”

Logan turned to Roman. “I beg your pardon?”

“We weren’t gossiping about you, or whatever it is you think we were doing. If anything we were complimenting you. I mean- well yeah-yes! We were. But that was before you came at us so rudely with your negative assumptions. Just because you’re the debate club president or whatever doesn’t give you the right to talk to people like that.”

Wow. Patton had never had someone stand up for him like that before. And he’d never seen Roman be so, well, unabashedly vocal, even when people were watching. I am so proud!

Logan looked taken aback, ashamed even. “I-I apologize.”

“Yeah, you should, Blaise Pastel. And another...thing?” Roman cut himself off suddenly.

Patton was about to ask Roman what was wrong when he felt the tell tale tingle on his arm. He pulled up his sleeve and sure enough, another new soulthought was there, tattooed in navy blue ink: ‘Hm. Brontë. Excellent taste.’

“Patton,” Romans said, tapping him excitedly. “Look!”

On Roman’s arm in the same navy blue read: ‘Interesting sweater choice.’ They beamed at each other. There was no doubt about it.

Then Logan coughed, and when they turned to look at him, he too was holding out his arm on display. Beneath two purple and sky blue soulmarks, the latter of which Patton recognized as his own, were letters in bright red: ‘Nerd—Pretty—Pretty nerd.’

“Well. It would appear that we have much to discuss. May I?” Logan asked, gesturing to an empty chair at their table.

Patton checked wordlessly with Roman if he was okay with it. The drama techie nodded. “Please.”

Logan pulled out the chair across from them and smoothed out his skirt as he sat. “So. It seems that we are all ineffably bonded to one another, judging from the matching color palettes in our soul thoughts. And you both are...”

“We’re together,” said Roman, reaching for Patton’s hand on the table and lacing their fingers. “We found each other just two days ago.”

Something flashes across Logan’s face, but it was gone before Patton could read more into it. “That is...quite fortuitous.”

“And we’d love for you to be apart of this too.” Patton said. “That is, if you’d be comfortable with that. We wouldn’t dare bind your heart to ours, regardless of being soulmates, if it wasn’t something you also wanted.”

“Or if you ended up being a jerk.”

“Roman!”

“Well he—

“It’s quite alright, um, Patton was it?” Logan asked. Patton nodded yes. “Roman is within his right to feel how he does. I did not exactly make the best first impression.”

“You can say that again.” Roman muttered.

“Now Roman, you and I didn’t exactly get off on the right foot either. In fact it left a lot to be desired.” Pattona said.

“But he—

“Deserves just as much a chance as we did. He is our soulmate after all. Alright?”

“Yes, dear.”

A low chuckle from Logan caught them both off guard. The beautiful brainy boy was covering his mouth demurely. The sight of Logan, who’d always been so sharp and alabaster cold, so softened by just his laughter alone was breathtaking. It set moths fluttering about in Patton’s tummy.

“What’s so funny?” Roman asked, brows furrowed.

Logan cleared his throat and adjusted his Warby Parkers. Hey, we have the same glasses!

“Apologizes, I am not laughing at you,” Logan said. “It is merely that, well, for a moment there your bickering reminded me of my mothers. Which is quite remarkable given how, as you’ve said, you two have only known each other for two days.”

“Aw gee, it’s sweet of you to say that we remind you of your moms, Logan.” Patton said.

To think he and Roman already sounded like an old married couple. Sure it was all fast and new to him still, but he couldn’t help delighting at it. Would he get to share this same sort of bond with Logan? With his fourth unknown soulmate? He sure hoped so.

Still, he was so different from Roman. Even though Patton had been crushing on Logan fort ages, he seemed to have a much thicker wall. Could Patton ever be good enough to be invited in?

“So I take it from your reaction that you are not among the school’s percentage of ignoramuses that take offense to LGBT folk, such as myself and my mothers?” Logan asked.

“Pshh, puh-lease! I’m about as straight as this spaghetti,” said Roman, holding up a limp noodle hanging off his fork.

“You do know food is prohibited in the library.”

“And my brother Remus is a regular Ace of spades.” Roman continued, ignoring Logan. “Not that you’d ever guess it, with all the crude jokes he makes on his podcast.”

“Brother?” Patton and Logan asked.

“Trust me, the less you know about that internet troll the better.”

“As for me, said Patton, “well, just fry an egg on my head and call me pan.”

Roman nearly choked on his bite of food, cough laughing. Patton offered his bottle of water to him. Logan tilted his head to the side.

“Fry an—what? That isn’t—pan?” If there was a lightbulb over Logan’s head, it would have just clicked. “Oh good lord, was a that a pun comparing pansexuality to cookware?”

“Heh, guilty,” said Patton. “I’ve got ‘em by the dozens.”

Roman seemed to like Patton’s jokes, but Logan not so much. Patton had been trying real hard to make his jokes less dry and dark. Did Logan just not like puns, or did he not like him? Patton so wanted Logan to like him.

“Tawdry wordplay aside, I’m please to find that at least some of my soulmates are not ashamed to be themselves, unlike...”

Patton turns to Logan concerned, but he merely opened his book to a random page and pretended to read it. He was clearly holding something back, but Patton didn’t want to push him into talking. He already felt like on thin ice.

“Unlike who?” Roman asked. “Does it have to do with your soulmate?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” said Logan, not looking up.

Roman rolled his eyes. “The one with the purple writing. Don’t think I didn’t notice that. Patton and I both have thought tattoos in the same color, and if you know who are third soulmate is, then don’t you think we have a right to know who they are as well?”

Logan closed the book. He looked at them for a moment, then sighed. “That is more than fair. Alright. It’s...”

He leaned in close to them, and in a low voice whispered a name that Patton was surprised to hear.

“VIRGIL!?” Roman shouted. Logan palmed his forehead.

A neighboring table shushed them and at least two students milling about the stacks gave them odd looks. Patton tugged his hat down and Roman slunk down bashfully. Baby steps, Roman. Baby steps. They probably would’ve gotten more than odd looks if not for Logan giving the more nosy students a steely glare.

“Would you kindly think before you open your infinitesimally loud mouth next time?” Logan asked.

He knows that word actually means really small, right? Patton thought.

“Well excuse me for being shocked that the Stormcloud of South Bay High is our mysterious soulmate.” Roman said, using his backstage voice. “I mean, look at us and look at him.”

“I have,” Logan said.

“And you’re still in one piece? After being alone with an unnerving ruffian like him?”

“FALSEHOOD!”

The sudden outburst startled Patton nearly out of his skin, and Roman actually fell out of his seat, spaghetti almost flying. The school librarian shushed Logan pointedly, and he apologized to her profusely, being luck enough to to get off with just a warning as her model library goer.

“He is not like that.” Logan said. “Yes, he is among the athletic clique but he is by no means a brute. He is intelligent and sweet and...gentle.”

“It’s true Roman,” said Patton. “I haven’t talked to him much myself, but I sit behind him in English Lit., and he’s never been mean to anyone in class.”

Patton pictured the anxious kiddo in his mind. How fidgety he got, the way his back tensed when being called on even if he knew the answer, and especially the lost lonely look in his eyes.

“Actually, when he’s not huddled in with his buddies, Virgil’s even more awkward than you can be.”

“Augh!” Roman gasped offendedly. “Patton, you wound my pride. Wait, was that a compliment or?”

“Does that mean you’ve talked with Virgil then?” Patton asked Logan.

“Indeed. We officially met—coincidentally—on Wednesday, realized we are soulmates, and spent Study Hall yesterday getting to know one another. It was quite...enjoyable.”

Then something happened that Patton would’ve gone so far as to call a little miracle: he saw Logan smiling. It was small but softened his angular face oh so nicely. Seeing Logan’s smile was like watching a sunrise. If Patton hadn’t been in puppy love with Logan before he definitely was now.

Then the overcast came, and stone faced Logan was back. “That is until some of his neanderthal brethren in lettermen’s happened upon us, and Virgil revealed the coward he truly is; ashamed of himself and ashamed of me.”

The three of them went quiet, their snacks and studies long forgotten. The library clock ticked away, turning pages crinkled like autumn leaves, and somewhere somebody was not so sneakily smoking a joint. Of course his brave little Prince would be the first to break the silence.

“Sooo I take it that Virgil is deeper in the closet than Narnia,” said Roman.

“Precisely. And I refuse to belittle my self-worth by wasting my time on anyone who does not have the courage to be themselves, let alone be associated with me simply because I am not of the same socially constructed high school status. I told him as much before leaving with my dignity intact.”

Patton tried to process this new information. It hurt his heart to hear the bitterness in Logan’s words, especially when he was so obviously trying to hide how hurt he really was. Yet even so...

“I understand where you’re coming from Logan, and I’m sorry that happened to you. But,” Patton bit his bottom lip, “Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh on Virgil?”

Logan raise a sharp eyebrow at him. “In what way am I being harsh?”

“Because, well, it’s not really your place to say when or how ‘out’ somebody should be. Even if he is your—our—soulmate.” Patton sat up straighter, blowing the curly bangs out of his eyes. “I mean, you probably came to this school already out of the closet, right? You’re used to to knowing how to handle yourself and others when they might talk bad about you. So it’s probably easier to feel like you’ve got the Pride high ground.”

“I...suppose I hadn’t considered it in that light.” said Logan. “Astute.”

“Yeah, top notch analysis there, Patton-cake,” said Roman.

“And yeah, we’ve got a modest little LGBT club and a small portion of the school has not so nice views of queer people,” Patton continued. “Which makes sense, I mean, this isn’t exactly New York. But you’ve gotta understand that Virgil is smack dab in the middle of that crowd. He probably feels like it might not be as safe for him to be out as it would be for someone like you; the debate club champ and smartest kid in school who’s also in good standing with the teachers. ...Or someone like me; the creepy emo kid that everyone treats like a ghost or is too scared of to bother with anyways.”

Lonely as it was, being invisible did have its advantages. Patton felt Roman wrap a deceptively strong arm around him, nothing but tenderness in his eyes. Well, not so invisible anymore. Patton smiled and leaned his head on Roman’s broad shoulder.

“Honestly, I see Patton’s point. Sure, I get teased by those guys all the time for being perceived as gay—not that they’re wrong—but people have picked on me for plenty of other reasons over the years.”

Roman paused for moment, using one hand to wipe his large glasses on his swirly patterned sweater vest.

“Look at me. I’m a scrawny, shy, Disney obsessed theater nerd, and not even one of the leading actor elites. I knew going in that I was bound for the bottom of the social food chain no matter what I did, so I figured, why not at least allow myself to be my full rainbow self, albeit quietly? Sure, I haven’t officially come out yet, but it’s not like I’d have much more to lose when I do. But Virgil? He has everything to lose.”

Logan sat back in his chair, mulling over their imput. Pattons was worried that he might have offended Logan somehow. He wasn’t storming away from their table, so that was a good sign. Maybe Patton should apologize anyways.

BRIIIING

Study hall was officially at an end. Students packed up their bags, and returned or checked out books. Meanwhile the librarian ushered any stragglers out so she could prepare the space for any Friday electives that would be taking place there.

“I have to get to class,” said Logan, gathering his things. “It was good meeting you both. You’ve given me much to think about. Perhaps we might converse again sometime?”

“No problem Specs. Where are you off to next?” Roman asked, closing up the Tupperware and hanging it back to Patton.

“Um, U.S. History,” said Logan, adjusting his glasses.

“With Mr. Terrence? Me too.” Roman grabbed his classic Mickey backpack. “Maybe we can, um, walk over there together? I mean, since we’re headed the same direction.”

“I have no objections with that.”

“Onward then. Farewell, Patton dear.”

“Bye Roman. Uh, Logan, I—“

Before Patton could say anything more, his two soulmates were on their way out. With a sigh he grabbed his writing journal, book, and backpack before heading out himself in the opposite direction for his last two classes of the day. He had English Lit with Miss Valerie next. And Virgil, he thought, pulling his headphones over his ears. It was high time he and Virgil spoke for real.

* * * * *

Patton watched the clock on the wall tick tock away the last few minutes of class He gripped his stretched sleeve end into a black and grey paw with one hand, and doodled furiously in his notebook margins with the other. Did I overstep my boundaries? Patton wondered for the hundredth time since the middle of class. In front of him, Virgil nervously bounced his knee and kept chewing on his cuticles, sending a twinge of guilt through Patton’s chest.

Halfway through class while Miss Valerie was writing out notes on the board, he had carefully tossed a folded note onto Virgil’s desk. Luckily he’d always been more of a thrower than a catcher. The anxious athlete saw the slip of paper, unfolded its contents, and went rigid. He’d cast a quick wide eyed glance over his shoulder at Patton before turning back to the front. Virgil hadn’t looked at him again since.

BRIIIING

“Alright class, that’s it for today. Don’t forget, your essays about the symbolic significance of the Moores in Brontë‘s novel are due next week,” said Miss Valerie.

While the rest of the class rushed to leave, he and Virgil lingered behind, packing their backpacks slower till the coast was clear. They stood up at the same time, Patton clutching his journal to his chest, and Virgil hunched awkwardly.

“Hey, is there some place we can’t talk? Privately?” Vigil asked, his voice gravelly.

“Mhm. Just uh, follow me.” Patton said.

They walked out the classroom and through the crowded hallways, Patton in the lead and Virgil following a foot behind. Murmurings of between bells chatter and tinny locker taps filled his ears. Two hallways later, Patton pulled Virgil round a courier and into the Nurses Office.

Flickering fluorescent ceiling lights cast shadows around the off-white walls. The only decorations were an anatomy poster, a poster of a cute bat dressed in a nurse’s cap, and the skeleton onesie clad teddy bear Nurse Talyn kept for students in emotional distress. Patton called him Mr Fluffybones. There were chairs, a sickbed, and a filing cabinet next to the supply closet. The office always smelled of rubbing alcohol, but it was clean, quiet, and most of all private. Talyn was a colleague of Emile’s so they let him stay in here on his bad days for as long as he needed to.

“Patton, it’s ten minutes till classtime.” Nurse Talyn said from their desk, their horn-rimmed glasses sliding down their nose. “Do you have a pass for another breather? Or is there something your friend needs help with?”

“No, nothing like that Talyn,” Patton said, smiling at the word ‘friend.’ “Virgil and I just needed someplace private to talk for a bit.”

“You know I’m not supposed to let students be in here unless they’re feeling unwell.”

“Pleeeese? We’ll head right to class afterwards. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Then, Patton unleashed his most secret of secret weapons, used for emergencies only and rarer than a red moon: the puppy Pat pout. When Talyn saw his pouty bottom lip and big eyes, their mouth went lemon tight. They only resisted for a few seconds before an audible groan told Patton he’d one this round.

“Ugh, fine! You get five minutes while I go restock my bandaid jar.” Talyn took a not even half empty jar with them as they went to the supply closet. “I blame Emile for teaching you that puppy dog pout. It should be illegal.”

“Thanks Nurse Talyn!” Works every time.

Patton turned around to where Virgil stood behind him, hands in the oversized letterman jacket and a crooked smirk on his face. If Patton didn’t know better, he would think Virgil looked almost impressed.

“We can talk privately now, don’t worry.” Patton said.

“Worry’s my middle name but, okay. So uh, about this.”

Virgil took a deep breath and pulled from one pocket a crumpled note. He unfurled is, words facing up: ‘I know you’re my soulmate. We all do. Can we talk?’

Standing in front of him now, seeing the dark bags under his wide eyes, Patton thought that Virgil looked so small and vulnerable. All shelled up in his too big jacked, clutching that paper between his shaking skinny fingers. He just wanted to hold the poor thing close and protect him from every nasty thing in this world. Instead he settled for smiling as warmly as possible, hoping to help Virgil feel more at ease.

“Just tell me first,” Virgil’s hands fidgeted. “By ‘we’ you mean my other soulmates and not, y’know, the whole school? I hope? Not that I think you’d out me or anything; you’re not like that. Not that I’d assume what you’re like, I jus—

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, kiddo.” Patton said, making his voice gentle. “I do mean our soulmates, and of course your secret is still safe with us.”

Upon hearing this though, Virgil’s whole body relaxed. “Heh, you really do say ‘kiddo.’ So how’d you find out?”

“Logan ran into Roman and me in the library earlier. We got to chatting and figured out the four of us are all soulmates.”

Virgil gave a low whistle. “I knew you guys were my soulmates but geez. All four of us? Fate must have a weird sense of humor.”

“Our gossamer spider-silk threads of fate are interwoven into one intricate home for our four hearts to feast upon entangled love.”

Patton mentally winced. Way to get weird and dark again Patton. Wait, he’s...smiling. Oh gosh, I really have a thing for nice smiles, don’t I?

“Wow Pat, that was...really lovely. And just the right amount of creepy. I dig it.”

Lovely? Me? Patton smiled, his freckled cheeks feeling warm all of a sudden. I knew you would be kind.

“I meant what I thought, by the way,” said Virgil. “You really do have gorgeous eyes.”

“And you really need to stop calling yourself an idiot,” said Patton.

Virgil chuckled, then looked down at his purple sneakers. “Did um...did Logan tell you about what happened?”

Patton rubbed his arm. “Yeah, he did.”

“So then you probably hate me, right? Argh, stupid question. Of course you do. Or at least Logan does. He probably thinks I’m just another stupid jerk athlete. Roman too. Not that I blame him after the number of times I’ve just stood by like an idiot and—

“I will physically fight you if you keep talking bad about yourself, Mister!”

The sharp outburst startled Virgil into shutting up. Patton didn’t often use his papa bear voice (as him mom called it) outside of the house or with anyone besides his younger cousin Elliot. But he couldn’t stand hearing Virgil talk that way about himself for another second. There was only room for one self deprecating soulmate in their group, and that was him.

“Logan doesn’t hate you Virgil. None of us do.” Patton said. “He’s upset still, sure, but never hate. And I told him that what he said to you was probably a little too harsh.”

Virgil’s head shot up. “You did?”

“Mhm. Of course his feelings were valid, but that couldn’t have been an easy situation for you either. Being in the closet is a pretty scary time, and the anxiety probably doesn’t help with it either.”

“H-how did you?”

“My godfather’s a therapist. Got pretty good at picking up on the signs from talking with him. Besides, you’re not the only one with a monster living between their ears.”

Patton rolled up his left sleeve, showing the tally marks of all the times he’d managed to come back out of the darkness and stand in the sunlight again. Virgil gave a quiet gasp, but Patton refused to turn away in shame from his soulmate, even if he did look at him with pity. When he met Virgil’s eyes however, they were filled with understanding.

In a bittersweet sort of way, it made Patton feel happy.

“I’m not saying you have to come out for us. Or go public, or do anything you’re not ready for yet. I just want you to know that we’re here for you when you are ready. And,” Patton held out his hand in offering, “you don’t have to go through this alone.”

He expected Virgil to take his handshake, maybe say thanks and offer to talk outside of school sometime. Maybe.

He did not expect Virgil to take his wrist in a gentle calloused grasp, turn his arm upward, bend down, and place a soft kiss on his scars.

It was sudden. It was impulsive. It was an act of pure reverence that set Patton’s pulse point thrumming faster than a hummingbirds heartbeat.

And judging from the look on his face, it shocked the hell out of Virgil just as much. He snatched his hand back as though his touch might burn Patton.

“I’m sorry! That was—I should’ve asked—-out of line. I—NGK!”

“Virgil, wait!”

Too late. Just as someone else was coming in, Virgil was running out the door, nearly knocking the other person over.

“WOah! Where’s the fire babe?” they asked.

Virgil paid him no mind. Didn’t even seem to hear him. Once again, Patton’s soulmate was gone before he could even try to make things right.

“Guess he’s got the runs or something. Ngh-ow. Forget it. Head hurts too much to care right now.”

The student who’d just come in was also wearing a letterman jacket, and their fingers hovered over a mean looking bruise near their temple. It took a second for Patton to recognize from the sunglasses who he was.

“You’re one of Virgil’s friends, Remy, right?” Patton asked.

Remy jumped, not realizing Patton was there. “His best friend, thank you very much. And who wants to knoOOHhhh I see. You’re one of his secret soulmates he won’t tell me about!”

Patton followed Remy’s eye line leading to his still uncovered arm. He quickly pulled his sleeve back down, blushing scarlet hot and hid behind his bangs. Remy chuckled.

“You know I gotta say, not at all what I pictured, but you are a cute little black kitten,” Remy said with a grin.

“Do you know where Virgil might’ve run off to? I want to go after him, but I need to get to class soon. Oh, it was all going so well, but maybe he thought he crossed a line and I’d be upset, but I’m not! He looked just short of a panic attack and I just...is he going to be okay?” Patton could’ve cried he was so worried.

Remy gave him a long unreadable once over, then sighed. “Look, if I know Virgil—and I do—then he’s either gone to the gym to blow off some steam, or holed himself up somewhere private where he can calm down. He doesn’t like people seeing his anxiety get the better of him if he can help it. Say it makes people uncomfortable.”

“Mental health isn’t anything to be embarrassed by, or of.”

Patton must have passed some sort of test, because Remy finally gave him a genuine smile of approval and lifted his sunglasses atop his head.

“Totes babe. Look, right now I gotta see a nurse about this goose egg hatching on my head, but I’ll try to look for him after. Kay? Ow!”

Patton signed. “Thank you Remy.”

“You still here, Patton?” Nurse Talyn called, coming out from the supply closet with an armload of bandaid boxes, a bad of cotton swabs, and a now full jar. “The second bell is about to ring. You need to get—“

They looked around the room, spotted Remy, and dropped their arms. Their face fell flat, along with the rest of the things they’d been carrying. Good thing that jar was plastic.

“Remy Dormier, did you fall asleep and hit your head in the hallway again?” Nurse Talyn asked, looking just about done with everything.

“Nope. Track field. Bottom bleacher,” said Remy, wincing and he touched the spot.

“That is the FOURTH time this week! That’s it.” They pulled out a crushable ice pack from their desk drawer and handed it to Remy. “You, on the bed while I call your parents. We have GOT to get a script from your Doctor for this obvious narcolepsy problem of yours. Patton, get to class. Go on, shoo!”

Not wanting to endure the tiny wrath of Talyn in full nurse mode, Patton left. Not before getting a wink from Remy that did little to lift his spirits. He speed walked to his last class of the day, but home economics was the last thing on his mind. He could still feel the kiss from before like a memory on his skin.

I hope he’ll be okay.

General Tag: @quoth-the-sparrow @altruistic-skittles @em-be-lievable @justisaisfine @broadwaytheanimatedseries @thekeytohappiness-is-you @jynxlovesluck @queer-human-being @phlying-squirrel @ab-artist @grey-lysander @a-valorous-choice @xx-fandom-potato-xx @impatentpending @book-of-charlie @randomslasher @tinkslittlebelle @insanelycoolish @ironwoman359 @icecoldparadise @bluebloodstains @purpleshipper @patchworkofstars @axyzel @hissesssss @beautifully-terribly @pink-and-purple-flowers @thatsanswitch @6tick6tock6 @hanramz-the-fander @azlinne @helplesscreator @thestoryofme13 @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @accidental-sanders @moonstone-fox @smokeyrutilequartz @madly-handsome @puns-and-patton @notveryglittery @eequalsmcscared @safesandersides @lizziepopanime @anxiously-unsatisfied-world @unikornavenger @fuck-my-life-i-want-food @backatthebein @mephonic @paperghastly @ravenclawangst @iamtrashcans @loganberrysanders @ierindoodles @a-new-witch-in-learning @punsterterry @goldteethandacurseforthistown @dragonsight9 @your-average-pangirl

Worst Impressions Tag: @everphantom @wundergirllovesyou @im-awkward-go-away @reinefandoms @shadowenbynerd @always-in-a-fandom @deadinsidebutliving @somehowsnakesblog @fandoms-winkitywonk @halfcrazedandrogynouswizard @i-am-such-a-mess-dot-mp4 @xionical @selectivereality @occasionally-pauciloquent @donalev @princessbelix @a-new-witch-in-learning @justasadchildwithablog @megkir13 @cats-vetal-miking-vomit @karmels-stuff @daughterofsomnus @soijusthavetoask @to-precious-to-process @kimolothecatt @gabe-killed-me-with-ace-cream @notveryglittery @loving-neko @corracii @nerd-in-space @absolutesandersidestrash @hanramz-the-fander @perfectly-precautiously-gay @minamishipsit-secondround @i-read-by-lamp @irrelevantbutsanders @xon-the-virgex @band-be-boss-blog @themultishipperchild @mistress-jinx09 @anonymous-by-design @analogical-mess @marvelfangeek09 @incoherentfangirl @mirror2thespirit @wherethewaterstarts-andyouend @snail-zo @redundant-statements-for-400 @deathshadowrules @basicmillennial @beach-fan @withspaces @cisnesincorbata @merlybird500 @lovingcreatorstrawberry @dante1138 @k9cat @no-no-no-no-6 @the-doctor-demigod-wizard @sanderssidesvp @sevencrashing @karmels-stuff @tssfamily @kaioanxiety @reblogged-anything @theotherella @randomsandersides @phantomofthesanderssides @unisaurioamorfo @fabulouswritingfanboyofdeath @here-is-your-paper-trail-unicorn @sniffingoutmywilltolive @pippippippin @shadowenbynerd @sugarglider9603 @angels-and-dreams @corracii @larry-angels @hexdream18243 @itsthemoooooooooon @ibasicallyjustreblogeverything @stormblessedcastiel @the-sweet-space-bi @bisexuallyinlove @nb-andromeda @ijustreallylovesanderssides @everythings-coming-up-aces @loving-neko @theunoriginaldaisy @dreamybluecupcake@selectivereality @soft-transboy @veryvirginvirgil @astudyinfuckmylife @loving-life-my-way @carstairsdefense @wowimsogoddamnoriginal @shaeshaetheravenclaw @anxiousangel121 @cataclysm-al @marvelfangeek09 @ijustreallylovesanderssides @fanartfunart @carstairsdefense @flufflerekt @floof-13 @mining-pup @a-demi-ghost @winged-hearts @ofdismaldays @okthnksbye @b0y-guts @a-trans-ghost @romantichopelessly @isaac-or-izzy @turtle-haven @quietwords-loudthoughts @pale-baguette @kai-the-person @im-gonna-yeet-outta-here @bunny222 @xxlithiumangelxx @tinyemogod @edgy-gremlin @coloursintheblur @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing @im-a-solanum-lycopersicum @zaisling @fluffler @floof-13 @mining-pup @damnitvirgil @littleladynightshade @peanut0303 @seeyoube @why-should-i-tell-youu2 @idiot-annonymous @winterswishing @unicornofdarknessstuff @unicorndragon1-2-3@singularthoughtofstatic @notyourperfectmexicandaughter @surohsopsisofclouds @beesmoothie @neon-skates @llamaly @a-gay-treee @thetruthaboutthesun @frankiprowsworld @pumpkindotorgdotuk @andreaissy @im-awkward-go-away @wundergirllovesyou

#KDsWriting #First Impressions AU #romantic lamp #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #LAMP #Patton Sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #remy sanders #polysanders #Soulmate au #soulmark au #soulmate tattoo #tw scars #no pasta was harmed in the making of this fic

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lordbeyron · 4 years

Text

By Any Other Name

Tyrellius Duskfury exhaled sharply out of his nose. His mask hid well the disapproving scowl on his face, as he escorted Lady Silentspear into Everblaze Manor. While the Demon Hunter didn't see in the same way as his elven kin, he could still perceive his surroundings well. Better than most, thanks to his prime bound demon. Observers saw the world through many different lenses. And now, so did he. Everblaze Manor was… gaudy. Crimson drapery with golden filigree, the grandiose portrait frames and statue busts lining the corridors-- most of which depicted Lord Everblaze himself, of course-- the vaulted ceiling crowded with dimly lit chandeliers... all of it shiney and extravagant! The manor was a monument to the Magister's narcissism, most assuredly. Tyrellius found himself glad, for once, that he'd gouged his real eyes out to spare them the true pain of seeing all this naturally.

Tydori, on the other hand, didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. A rather slender woman, she walked the halls of the Manor with such grace and reverence, any passer-by could have mistaken her for master of the domain. If not for the garish horns protruding from her raven hair, perhaps. She dressed the part nonetheless; an elegant black dress with red and gold trim. A blindfold to match. Simple, but all the same displayed a fealty to the High Kingdom. And that wasn’t an accident. For months, since stepping into the spotlight of the Council, she’s long represented the side of Quel’Thalas often left too forgotten by those living in the luxury of Silvermoon. Soldiers and citizens, all who have made often-overlooked sacrifices. She needed no extravagant dress or peacocky attire. Hers was a platform of simplicity and fealty. And she wore it well in both the literal and figurative sense.

That’s why they were here, Tyrellius could only surmise; Lady Silentspear’s controversial propositions had tipped the Sun Council itself on its head. Outraged at her “radical” ideas for reformation, she was dismissed… much to the ire of the people whom she represented. Protests, riots, anger in all its forms from civil to ugly all erupted throughout Silvermoon. Unintended by Tydori, of course, but Tyrellius knew she wouldn’t have been invited to a Councilor’s estate if noise hadn’t been made on her behalf. Though, he never expected Lord Bey’ron Everblaze, of all the Councilors, to be the one who would reach out first. An odd move, even for him. Despite the support she’d garnered from her fellow elves, to any politician she was a poison; was Lord Everblaze truly so powerful-- or arrogant-- to host her like this without losing face?

The pair of demon hunters stepped into a large room; dimly lit, but that was no issue for them. Bookshelves lined the walls. And where there weren’t bookshelves, there were more paintings-- scenery in this room, rather than portraits. In the center of the room were three luxurious chaise lounges, all circled about an elegant table of food and wine. No guards. No attendants. The room was as empty as a tomb. Magic permeated the air throughout, causing Tyrellius’ ears to flicker with unease. Was this a trick? He wasn’t fond of the idea before, and grew less so by the second. His hands settled onto the hilts of his weapons as he stepped out ahead of Tydori to better examine the lounge. Nothing looked too unusual, save a few remnant portal signatures slowly dissipating into the ambient arcana. He approached the sitting area, Tydori waiting as patiently and quietly as she always did for her trusted hand to inspect the scene. The food, while delivered via magical means, was real. Fresh, too. Grapes from a vineyard, sliced meats and cheeses… and red wine in a small cask-- their host’s vintage, it seemed. Tyrellius grunted, before nodding to Tydori. All seemed well enough… for the moment.

“How long are we to wait here for him, before we get on with our lives?” he asked, no shortage of bile in his tone.

Tydori approached, and placed a hand on Tyrellius’ shoulder. Wordless, yet it said all he needed to hear. He exhaled a sigh, ears wilting as he dipped his head.

“... I know. I’m sorry. I’m just on edge. I’ve heard… things… about this Magister.”

“--Good things, I hope.”

A pair of bookshelves across the room opened up, revealing Magister Everblaze. He smirked at his guests as he entered the room, and bowed his head.

“Lady Tydori Silentspear. I’m so pleased you accepted my invitation today.” he grinned, approaching the sitting area.

Tydori bowed her head politely, her ruby lips curling into a polite smile. Tyrellius, however, simply crossed his arms. Bey’ron raised his brow curiously, at the rather mixed reception.

“... I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long. I know you Illidari are used to a certain hastiness, hmm?”

“--I’m sure you mean punctuality, Milord.” Tyrellius corrected, unabashedly.

“Mm… certainly so.” Bey’ron grinned at him, before motioning to the chaise lounges. “Why don’t we sit, hmm? Please make yourselves comfortable.”

Tydori once again dipped her head, before lowering herself into one of the seats. Bey’ron did the same, settling into his preferred chair. Tyrellius remained standing, arms crossed as he stared at the Magister. He’d seen him before, once or twice in passing; always dressed in lavish robes, and wearing that cocky smirk. His entire person soaked in arcana-- and a streak of fel magic inherent to most Blood Elves. Yet now, the Magister’s attire was simple. Almost humble for him. Unusual, considering everything he’d seen so far of Lord Everblaze’s lifestyle. Was it a ploy of some kind to relate to Lady Silentspear? Or a gaff at her expense? Perhaps neither; perhaps Lord Everblaze didn’t find this meeting worth dressing up for. Insulting, no matter the case. Tyrellius was normally reserved and accepting, but… something about Bey’ron rubbed him the wrong way. He kept still, statuesque, mask hiding the glare on his face. But Bey’ron seemed to know it was there… and smirked at Tyrellius as if he didn’t care. As if he welcomed it.

“I admit, I’ve been greatly impressed by your resilience through all this, Lady Silentspear. Your Councilorship has not been the smoothest, has it?” the Magister began, folding his hands atop one another in his lap. “And yet, you endure. You persevere. I find your tenacity inspiring, I must say.”

“--With all due respect, is this a joke, Milord?” Tyrellius chimed in. “You know as well as I do that Milady Silentspear has been dismissed from the Council by you and your fellow Councilors, hasn’t she?”

“Ah, I’m glad you asked. That’s not entirely accurate.” Bey’ron got his turn to correct. “Councilorship isn’t just granted and revoked by declaration alone. There’s a lengthy process to both. The Council’s intention is unaltered, presently, but she’s not been stripped of the honorific just yet.”

He turned his attention to Lady Silentspear, and dipped his head.

“That, frankly, is what I’ve invited you here to discuss, Lady Silentspear. I’m curious what it is you want. What you hope to achieve. If our goals align… perhaps we can attain them together, hmm?”

“Milady Silentspear’s goals are quite clear, I believe.” Tyrellius spoke up once more. “She outlined them succinctly in the draft of her most recent proposition. One which you and the Council--”

“--Forgive me, Master Duskfury, was it?” Bey’ron’s voice raised, eyes narrowing at the Illidari as his smirk vanished. “I’d thank you to hold your commentary, hmm? I was addressing Lady Silentspear.”

Tyrellius exhaled sharply once more, shaking his head.

“I speak on her behalf, Lord Everblaze.” he explained. “A side effect of the sacrifice she made, and the pact she formed… Milady Silentspear doesn’t speak any language but one, now. Not one that elves inherently understand.”

Rather than appear surprised, as Tyrellius expected the Magister to, Bey’ron simply chuckled lightly. His emerald eyes flickered, settling once more on Lady Silentspear, as his fingers steepled in his lap.

“Worry not, Master Duskfury. This is something I anticipated.” he grinned. “I know Lady Silentspear hasn’t been one to address anyone publicly. And her propositions were all delivered by Council Orators, never by herself. It wasn’t hard to piece together her vocal limitations. I assure you… I’m quite capable of carrying out a conversation with her on my own. Reza kil xi nath (We won’t be needing you).”

Tydori’s ears flickered, as Bey’ron switched fluidly to the Demonic tongue. She turned, looking to Tyrellius, who appeared equally surprised. His brow knit behind his mask, as he exhaled a grunt of disapproval.

“Hmph… You’re a warlock then.” he derisively accused.

“Oh, please, Master Duskfury. That’s such a savage nomenclature, don’t you think? I’m not some ritualistic demon-worshipper, like an Orcish warlock.” he grinned. “No, I’m a Magister. My interests and pursuits into the Fel and Demonology have all been scholarly, I assure you.”

“Zi nar falak tu zu kanil (You’re full of surprises, Lord Everblaze).”

Both turned to Tydori, as she finally spoke aloud. Her felfire gaze glowed a bit brighter, shining through her blindfold as she peered at Bey’ron. The Magister dipped his head, and replied to her, in kind.

“Gek toro ix vesk taniz (Our paths aren’t so different).” he assured her with a nod, before speaking in his native Thalassian once more. “If it pleases you, we can converse freely like this, hmm? No need for your translator.”

“(He’ll stay. But I’ll speak for myself, now.)” Tydori replied. “(I admit… it’s nice to have a direct conversation again.)”

“One of the many ways I’m sure we’ll work well together, hmm?” Bey’ron grinned. “So please, tell me… what is your ultimate goal in these propositions you’re creating? You seem to have public interests at the forefront of your agenda.”

“(Of course. I’m an Illidari, Magister Everblaze. We’re but one group of many sin’dorei who are criminally under-represented in the Spire.)” Tydori elaborated. “(By design, the Sun Council is a nepotistic exclusive group, suited to serve the nobility best, and everyone else sparingly. That has to change.)”

“On that, I think we agree. But it won’t change overnight, Milady. You’re talking about altering the foundation of the Sun Council itself. That will take time.” Bey’ron advised, before plucking a glass of wine from the table. “What is your plan, precisely? Brute-forcing propositions won’t work, I’m afraid. You must realize that now, hmm?”

“(I… do, yes.)” the Illidari exhaled a light sigh. “(Perhaps I was too… ‘hasty’, as you put it.)”

Tyrellius scoffed lightly.

“(But that’s only because this goal is an important one. Our Kingdom has changed greatly over the last few years. Old mindsets no longer suit our needs.)” she elaborated, her tone brimming with conviction. “(Modernizing organizations like the Sun Council are the first steps towards building a better Quel’thalas. For everyone. Not just the nobility.)”

“Mm. Then we should do so mindfully.”

Bey’ron nodded in agreement, before taking a sip of wine from his glass. He eyed Tydori for a moment, silently, before leaning towards her.

“You know… I wasn’t always a noble. My beginnings were humble, if you can believe it. I had to build up my name. It wasn’t already pristine and revered, like the one you inherited.”

His lips curled, eyes flickering a bit brighter.

“Or… should I say stole?”

Tydori reached for a glass as Bey’ron spoke-- pausing to look up at him at his last accusatory word. Her brow raised; not in confusion, but light panic. Tyrellius stepped forward, hands slipping up to his sides.

“--I insist you show Milady Silentspear respect, Lord Everblaze!” he growled. “You’ll not slander her so in my presence!”

“Oh? Is this all for show, then? Or does your pet not know, Lady Silentspear?” Bey’ron grinned. “I have a theory on who you really are… maybe you’ll confirm it for me, hmm?”

Without hesitation, Tyrellius drew his blade and pointed it threateningly at Bey’ron. His eyes ignited in felflames, glowing brightly behind his cloth mask.

“That’s enough out of you, you arrogant, slimy--”

“(Tyrellius.)” Tydori interjected. “(Stand down.)”

Tyrellius turned, brow raised at Tydori. He could sense it-- her demeanor had changed from one of silent confidence to quiet shame. Her shoulders sank, chin dipping as she leaned back in her seat. Like a child caught stealing treats, she folded her hands before her. The strength in her aura, too, diminished. Something was amiss. Slowly, he sheathed his blade, looking between the two Councilors warily. Bey’ron only chuckled.

“He doesn’t, then… a pity. Do you wish to tell him, or should I?”

Tydori remained quiet.

“... So be it.” the Magister smirked. “Lady Tydori Silentspear went to Outland and fought as part of the Sunfury. But she never became an Illidari. She died in Netherstorm, defending a Manaforge from Aldor forces. Isn’t that right?”

Tydori still kept quiet and still; her silence still rather telling.

“This woman, to which you’ve pledged your fealty, Master Duskfury… I suspect is actually Tanori Flaresorrow, Lady Silentspear’s trusted seneschal and close personal friend. My theory is that upon her Mistress’ death, she joined the Illidari… and then stole Lady Silentspear’s identity once your kind were accepted back into Quel’thalas. A name like hers carried such weight - a shame to see it wasted. Am I right?”

Tyrellius shook his head in disbelief. He turned to the other Illidari fully, leaning down at her. He could feel it; her heart rate increasing, beating hard in her chest. Her cheeks grew flush with embarrassment or shame. She didn’t need to say anything to confirm what Bey’ron claimed.

“... By the Sun…” he muttered, defeatedly.

“(That’s not why I did it.)” Tydori-- rather, Tanori admitted. “(I swore I would do everything I could to uphold her family name and its values. Nothing I’ve done has been outside her intent and wishes! Turn me in if you wish, Lord Everblaze, but know that Tydori had nothing to do with this! I won’t see you drag her name through the mud!)”

“--Oh… you misunderstand, my dear.” Bey’ron shook his head, idly swirling the wine in his glass. “I’m not going to turn you in. You’ve turned Lady Silentspear’s name into a beacon, and the citizens are rallying around it. That has uses. You have uses.”

“--Bastard! This is why you brought her here? To blackmail her?” Tyrellius snarled.

“On the contrary… I meant everything I’ve said thus far. Our goals may align well here. And my keeping this little secret is… let’s call it a show of good faith, hmm?”

A dozen thoughts swarmed Tyrellius’ mind all at once. His hand gripped the hilt of his blade once more, as he stared with disdain at Bey’ron. Tydori had been a long time friend… he never knew she’d lied about any of this. But was it so bad? He knew her intentions were pure. Would it be worth continuing to serve her? Or would the lies pull him apart from the inside out? What of Bey’ron? Tyrellius knew he could kill him, here and now. But… no, that would only make things worse. His staff knew he was meeting Tydori and him today. Turning up a corpse of their master right after? It wouldn’t be hard to piece it together.

“... Leverage, then.” he grunted.

“Call it what you will.” Bey’ron shrugged, before taking another sip of his wine. “My offer stands; reintroducing Lady Silentspear into the Council, and helping her gradually bring about positive change, is still very much in line with my own agenda. Details aside, we can help one another out. With your support of the citizenry and my clout in the Council Chambers? I’m confident we can see certain improvements made. Effectively, too.”

“(I won’t manipulate our people like that!)” Tanori frowned.

“--More than you already have, you mean? With your lies? With your silent consent of their aggression?” the Magister chuffed. “You’ve made it decently far on your own merit, my dear, but you won’t get much further without someone helping you. No matter how you look at it… that’s what I’m offering.”

With that, the Magister stood up. Tyrellius stepped forward, ready to intervene or apprehend him if he tried anything… but Bey’ron simply smirked at him again. Gloating over him. Mocking him, like a dog at the end of its leash. He knew there was nothing Tyrellius could do. Not without only harming himself, or his mistress. Lightly, Bey’ron bowed his head to Tanori, and turned to depart.

“I’ll give you a few days to think it over, hmm?” he offered his parting words. “Feel free to linger, if you wish. See yourselves out at your leisure. We’ll be in touch, to be sure.”

With that, Lord Everblaze departed in the same manner by which he’d entered. The bookcase doors closed behind him, leaving the two Illidari alone once more in the elegant lounge. Tanori was silent for a moment longer; less in a quiet dignity, and more out of speechlessness. Tyrellius grunted, as he looked her over. His blood felt like it was boiling-- to be lied to for so long! If he had known, he could have protected her better, or helped conceal it. But now, this Magister had her locked in his grip, and there was no easy way out. Tanori seemed to feel the same way.

“(... I’m sorry, Tyrellius.)” she muttered, quietly. “(I should have told you.)”

“It’s too late for that now, Milady.” he replied, with a grunt. “Instead, we need to figure out what we can do about this.”

Tanori shook her head, before looking up at Tyrellius. Even behind her blindfold, he could see her eyes were dim. Extinguished.

“(What choice do we have?)”

~*~

#Bey'ron Everblaze #Tydori Silentspear #The Sun Council #Tyrellius Duskfury #Warcraft #Blood Elves #Silvermoon #Politics #Quel'Thalas #Illidari #Character Story

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rora-s · 4 years

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My Coming Out Story

Disclaimer: Due to the personal nature of this story names have been changed as to not reveal peoples identity. I’m not sure why I decided to post this story now. It’s something I’ve hadn’t written for awhile but never knew when or where to place it. I’m posting it now and I hope that if someone needs it now in their life they can read it and feel a little better about how things are going. When I was little I really didn’t have a concept of what gay was. I grew up in a loving christian home with my mechanical engineer turned youth minister mom and my current electrical engineer dad who was also the music leader at church for a number of years. There were also my three siblings of which I was the second oldest. My life revolved around church. It was literally where I went to preschool and I spent at least five days a week there well into my teenage years.

Growing up in this way wasn’t bad. I had a great community and family. However, that changed. I remember thinking during my elementary school days that I thought of guys and girls the same. The only thing was that I understood that when you get married girls marry guys and vice versa. That’s just how it was and I thought everyone felt the way I did. You just had to pair up like that.

I had heard the word gay and understood the concept of it when I was in elementary school thanks to my church and one kid at my school. My mom told me he was gay and I didn’t believe it because he was so nice and from what I understood gay meant bad. (He came out when we were in middle school and was one of my inspirations later on.)

Still the first time I had a personal connection with having that label was when some girls started a rumor that me and one of my best friends who was also female had kissed on the playground during recess. This was an outright lie and my violent tendencies at the time due to (at that time) unmedicated ADHD caused me to lash out and beat up the bully which got me sent to the principal's office. I didn’t tell anyone why I had beat up the girl just that she was being mean to my friend. As I was a frequent flyer in the office at that time they didn’t really question me all that hard anyway. Now that I’m older I can’t really tell you why I didn’t tell anyone what the girls said. Whether I was embarrassed, scared, or just too stubborn to give them an answer I don’t remember I just know I didn’t.

Fast forward to middle school and I was a far more awkward, less violent teen. At this point I was still pretty unaware of the world around me in regards to the LGBT. I knew that there were some kids in my grade that had come out as LGBT that kid I mentioned before among them. Still to me it was something that was viewed as a bad thing they were sinners. It was all what church had taught me whether it be explicitly by some or implicitly by the majority it was still something I picked up on as a child.

Then one day my mom told me that we had been invited by two of her friends from college to have lunch with them. It was at one of my favorite little cafes so I was really excited. She told me they were psychologists and that they were together. She also told me they were two men. I was shocked. I didn’t think gay people could have significant relationships like straight people. On top of that I couldn’t imagine my mom -- who by all accounts was the symbol of a perfect godly woman to my entire church community -- could be friends with them.

Her response to my shock: “We’re christians, they are not, we hate the sin but we love the sinner. Despite being gay they are still good people but since they aren’t christians we can’t hold them to the same standard as us. They simply don’t believe in it.” (I paraphrased but this is the general idea of the conversation)

It was the first time I had heard such a sentiment and I went into that lunch with a curious perspective. I was still a little shy so I didn’t ask about it but I watched them together, made note of their wedding bands (gay marriage wasn’t legal then but they were symbolic to them), and witnessed their love for each other. After that I started finding myself paying more attention to my peers who had come out. Many of which I ran in the same circles as. The more I watched and interacted and bonded with them the more my bigoted thoughts that gays were these lustful bad people faded and I realized they were normal people.

That’s when I realized something. Not everyone loves both guys and girls and just picks a side. I learned that bisexuality existed. The next step I took in my journey was repression. I was a christian. Christians were not gay. I was not gay. I could not be gay. I was just imagining it and it’s not a big deal. Afterall I still like guys so we're fine.

This lasted until my sophomore year of high school, choir class, and a girl with freckles, short multi colored hair, dazzling eyes, and the singing voice of an angel. The panic was real and my emotions would not shut up. I couldn't come to terms with it. With any of it.

I denied my feelings for most of that year until one day I was with two of my friends. We were all writers and talking about different stories we were working on. Then one of them paused in the middle of what she was saying and turned to me saying “these characters are gay. We know you don’t believe in that stuff but that’s what it is”

I looked back at her in shock and I responded with “that’s okay. I am a christian and while I might never practice that myself I’m okay with other people doing it. Hate the sin, love the sinner” my friend smiled at me and said that was the first time she’d heard such an accepting thing from a christian and continued telling us about her story as we headed to class.

I was glad I put a smile on her face and made her feel accepted but honestly I felt like a complete piece of garbage. I’d simply parroted back to hear all the stuff that had been shoved down my throat for my entire life. Did I really believe it though? I couldn’t stop thinking about that conversation for the rest of the week. I also couldn’t stop thinking about that girl from choir class but that was honestly nothing new.

About a week later our school had standardized testing going on. Which divided up kids into computer labs by grade and last name. Me and one of my guy friends we’ll call him Cane had luckily been seated near each other. During one of our breaks when we were allowed to talk. I went over and leaned on the desk next to him. He vented to me about how he had a crush on one of our mutual friends and was thinking about asking her out but was nervous. I gave him encouragement as best I could then he inquired whether I was interested in anyone. Before I really thought about it I answered yes. He asked who and after only a few moments of deliberation I admitted that it was the girl from my choir class. He acknowledged and agreed that she was cute before continuing on. I looked at him in surprise and pointed out to him that she was female. He said he knows and that it wasn’t that big of a deal if I liked girls. I thanked him and asked him not to tell anyone because I still wasn’t sure. He agreed to keep it under wraps but did tease me a little for my crush.

After that conversation. I finally took the leap and began to look up the LGBT community online. I found forums and support centers and ted talks and messages and christians saying that LGBT was okay. I was ecstatic but still I was worried so I prayed and the more I prayed and researched and talked with other LGBT people the more I felt like a giant weight had been lifted off my chest. Finally I could admit to myself that I was in fact bisexual and I was okay with that and so was my God.

I still wasn’t comfortable coming out to anyone yet. So I spent more time on online forums for LGBT youth and writers. I learned about the community and I embraced my crush on the girl in choir. Even though it didn’t pan out and I fell for a boy we’ll call him Reese and started dating him my junior year. It felt like things were going okay. I was able to tell one of my friends call them Alex finally that year and they intern told me that they were asexual. We were able to support each other in our closets and were happy.

During my Junior year even though my feelings for the choir girl faded I ended up meeting another girl in my Fire and Rescue class at the career education center that partnered with my high school. We’ll call her Polly. She was an incredible person, bright and beautiful and unabashedly herself all the time. We bonded over marvel movies and writing. Even though I was dating Reese at the time I was falling head over heels for this girl. It took me a while to figure it out as slowly me and Polly became better friends but I was developing feelings for her.

Finally, my senior I got the courage (with support of Alex) to come out to my main friend group. It was at a marching band competition and everyone was super supportive. My best friend you can call her April she said she wasn’t surprised and Reese who was still my boyfriend at the time said he loved me and would always support me and this didn’t change that. I even came back out to Cane again because I had genuinely forgotten that he already knew. He reminded me of what he said that day. That it didn’t matter and he wouldn’t tell a soul. They were all proud of me for owning who I was. It was one of the happiest moments of my life.

However, it couldn’t last. When I was telling April one of the band mom’s overheard and gave me a shocked and disgusted look. She didn’t say anything but she didn’t have to. She was known for being the gossip of the group and she was a religious friend of my moms. If she had overheard then it was only a matter of time before she told my mother.

I was terrified. When I got home from the competition I watched my mom to see if she was going to react at all to me. She didn’t and I realized she hadn’t been told yet. I was relieved but knew that I wanted to be the one to tell my mom. I didn’t want her to hear it from a secondary source, especially not the gossip. So I got on one of my forums and talked to some LGBT friends who encouraged me before I took a deep breath and headed into my parents room.

My dad was away on business so it was just my mother. I told her I had something to tell her and she gave me her attention. I explained that I had come to accept myself as I am and that I knew God had also accepted me as the way I am. I told her I was bisexual and waited watching her.

She stared at me for a long moment. Her face was a mixture of confusion and fear and the next words out of her mouth I will never forget she asked “does this mean you’re going to hell?”

I felt like someone had just pulled the floor out from under me. She didn’t understand and spent the next couple minutes trying to convince me I was mistaken or that this was wrong. We stayed civil and eventually she just said she needed to process this and sent me back to my room. I cried myself to sleep that night.

The next day at school I told my friends what happened and they comforted me. When I got back from school and band practice I hid in my room until that evening when my father got home from his business trip. He came to my door and told me we needed to talk. My younger sisters were banished to their room as me, my mom, and my dad - who had been told by my mom - sat in the living room to discuss the fact that I was gay.

Shortly after starting the conversation/argument a boy (Derek) who was like my older brother came over. He wasn’t biologically related to us but he had a key to the house, would often come over, referred to us as his siblings/parents, and was referred to by us as our brother/son. Me and him were very close and despite my parents wanting to send him to the other room I insisted he stay as things had already begun to get heated between me and my father.

Derek helped keep the tension down but there was still plenty of yelling. He acted as an impartial mediator for most of it. My dad yelled a lot, my mother cried, I both yelled and cried. It was a rough night. It ended with me storming back to my room. A while later Derek came to my room and talked with me. He explained that he didn’t understand or know if he agreed with it but he’d make the effort and be there for me. I thanked him.

My house after that was tense to say the least. My parents avoid the subject at all costs. My sisters knew thanks to the yelling that night but didn’t comment on it. The next time my mom brought it up was to tell me that I couldn’t tell my cousin about it because she would spread it to the rest of my dad’s side of the family. She also said I couldn’t tell her mother, my grandmother, because she had a heart condition and it could kill her. Sometimes I still wonder how my grandmother would have reacted had I told her before she died. She once told me she had a friend who was gay and that she cared about him deeply. I think she would have accepted me.

The first time my siblings brought it up was when me and my two younger sisters were left in the car while my mom ran into the store. We were listening to music and chatting when my sister asked “so how long did you know you were bi” I was surprised because up until then I hadn’t realized my sisters knew I was bisexual. I explained it to them briefly and asked what they thought of it. They both said they agreed that people should be able to love who they want to love. Though my sister Greta thought it was kinda gross because she didn’t get how two of the same gender could have sex. Still it didn’t change anything for them and they apologized for how our parents had been handling it. I was so thankful for their support.

By the end of my senior year I was out and proud to all of my peers. I came out to my friend Hannah and Derek's girlfriend Mary at the same time as a casual drop in a conversation. Neither reacted at the time but asked me about it later. Mary more directly wanting to understand as both her and Derek are very religious. While Hannah was more of making a comment about me eyeing a girl that I had a crush on and being obvious. I can’t remember when I came out to my older brother James who lives in a different city. However, he never really questioned it beyond being tense when I brought it up around our parents. I was becoming bold in my identity. I had even written a love poem about about girl (Polly) for an english class assignment to stick it too a homophobic teacher.

I ended up breaking up with Reese pretty early on my senior year as I realized what I felt for Polly. To this day I still consider my feelings for her the first time I fell in love with someone. I cared about Reese deeply and still do but only ever as a friend. Since we were in middle school people had been pushing us together and while we fit together on paper and from the outside. My feelings inside didn’t match and I didn’t want to lead him on. Polly was the one I truly wanted to be with but the same couldn’t be said for her. She had met a boy in her senior year and they were starting to talk. She really liked him and I was her main confidant for her feelings. I took them and I encouraged her to pursue a relationship with the boy because I knew she felt for him more than she did for me. She loved me but only as a friend. As her and her boyfriend got closer I worked to let go of my feelings for her gradually.

Meanwhile my parents were like a looming dark cloud and it felt like I was stuck in a cage of some sort anytime I left the shelter of my friends. This only got worse when I graduated that spring and summer rolled around. I tried to get out of the house as much as possible but I didn’t drive and this made things difficult. The relationship between me and my parents began to get more and more strained to the point I almost ran away one night after my mom punched me.

I began to view leaving for college that fall to be the holy land. My montra became that if I could only survive the summer I could make it. Me and my friend Hannah were going to the same college and going to be roommates. I was going to get to study what I loved and be who I was. I went into survival mode. Then the biggest mental strain hit.

Every year since I was nine years old I went to church camp for a week in the summer. I had been going longer than I was supposed to because my mom was a leader of the camp and my whole family got to go even Derek and Mary. Normally Hannah would come as well but she had something else come up that year and couldn’t. I knew the place very well and absolutely loved it. It was a time of year I looked forward to and couldn’t wait to go back too especially since I was now a worker at the camp instead of just a camper.

This year was tougher than most. I was given a lecture about not telling anyone that I was bisexual before I left because if they found out I was gay I wouldn’t be allowed to come back to camp. I was horrified at the idea and tried my best not to think about it. Even when I got a crush on my fellow female camp worker. It was a stressful week and it all culminated one night.

I can’t tell you whether I believed what I felt in that moment. It all felt like a blur like I was about to shatter under the weight of everything bearing down on me all the lying and fighting. I think part of me wanted to believe that me being gay could be prayed away that night and that I could just stop having to deal with all this pressure. So that’s what happened. I told one of my leaders and they asked me a bunch of questions like had I kissed a girl or had sex and then they prayed for me.

Afterward I told my mom and she literally cried about it hugging me and thanking God that I was healed. I felt sick and I threw up before I went to sleep that night.

I went to college that summer as a straight girl and I held on to that label for most of my first semester. I loved college. Me and my roommate/best friend Hannah met three great friends that first semester, Sylas, Kurt, and Randall. Sylas was busy a lot so we mostly hung out with Kurt and Randall. All of us played D&D together and had movie nights. Me and Hannah also found a christian group on campus and got settled there.

I thought I was happy with my life however I still felt sick and disjointed anytime the concept of homosexuality got brought up. It was a hard time and I prayed about it alot. I talked to some of my church friends about how I had turned back to straight. Until one day a video ended up in my recommendations and it was a ted talk. I clicked on it not realizing what it was and found that it was a gay christan woman talking about how these two factors don’t have to be mutually exclusive in life. I was riveted, I watched the entire video twice and felt my heart be convicted. God never wanted me to be straight; he never wanted me to change who I was. I loved me how I was. It was the people who had the problem.

The minute Hannah got back to the dorm I came back out to her. Her exact words were “ah so you finally figured that out”. I was so grateful to have her in my life and we talked for hours after that. Not long after I started coming out to people again and in turn Randall came out to us about how he was bisexual as well. I finally felt free again. Going back home that winter was tough, however, it was made better by the support of my friends with regular skype calls and group chat messages. Not to mention since my parents thought I was straight they weren’t pressuring me anymore.

When I went back to school things were still going great and I ended up meeting a girl named Eve in my EMT class. We immediately hit it off and started talking. It wasn’t long before I formed a huge crush on her but she was getting over a break up and I didn’t want to push. Still we became extremely close. Eventually, she did start dating a guy me and Hannah knew from a gamers club on campus. I had missed my shot. Then I went home for spring break and had to stay due to the COVID-19 pandemic. It was hard being away from my friends and stuck in my parents house. Still we all had regular skype D&D sessions and texted a lot on the groupchat.

During the months I was stuck at home I got a job working at the local Home Depot. I was excited to work as it was my first real job. My grandmother had owned a family business but I didn’t do much other than stock shelves there. Here I was a cashier and I enjoyed my job a lot even though it could get crazy. Then one day I was at my register and a fellow coworker I was aware worked in the paint department approached my register with a polar pop and asked where her wife was. I was confused and she noticed I was new and said not to worry about it and have a good day. I watched after her and saw her go up and greet my head cashier who was a female and give her the polar pop before heading back to the paint department. I was astounded.

Not long after I had it confirmed that her and the female head cashier were married. Another cashier came out to me as non-binary and another cashier told me her brother was gay and she’d be the loudest ally ever if anyone tried to mess with me. I felt accepted like nothing else. It was incredible to feel so validated and free to be myself in my workplace.

Going back to school that fall was difficult due to COVID-19. Me and my friends (Polly as well as she began attending college with us that year) could no longer host D&D at my and Hannah’s dorm like we did before because of the regulations. Thankfully Eve came up with a solution. She was the only one of us who lived off campus in a house she rented. We were welcome there anytime. I still had a massive crush on her and when I found out she had broken up with her boyfriend over the summer I almost asked her out. However, another guy had beaten me to it. We ended up going over to Eve’s house multiple times a week and I would go even when the rest of the group wasn’t before long I was sleeping over at her house regularly. Often when it wasn’t even planned. I was even dubbed the most responsible friend by her grandmother who absolutely loved me.

Then her boyfriend at the time dumped her. The entire group rallied to comfort and support her. She took it really hard and I stayed over for a weekend to make sure she was alright. My feelings really started to grow as we got more physically intimate with cuddling and laying in bed together still it was all considered platonic. I really wanted to ask her out but didn’t know when it was too soon. Hannah and Polly both encouraged me to ask her out.

Then another boy showed up in her life. I was greatly concerned and disheartened as their relationship was progressing in her typical pattern. I thought I had missed my chance. However, the boy made a fatal mistake as Eve is demisexual. She doesn’t like moving into physical contact beyond cuddling too quickly if at all and he started to push her to kiss him. She immediately stopped the relationship after he made overt moves that disregarded her clearly made boundaries and he was derogatory toward her.

About one or two weeks later I was over at her house one evening and we were talking about him and dating and life. I finally took a deep breath and told her there was something I needed to tell her and I was afraid it would ruin our friendship. I confessed to her that I liked her and wanted to date her. I didn’t ask her out specifically though because she has told me in the past she has trouble saying no so I left out the question and simply told her how I felt to do with what she felt was right.

She was shocked and immediately started smiling saying she liked me too. I was elated. We talked more about how we had been feeling and how we had both been worried about what the other would say and how she had been blind to my pining which apparently her last serious boyfriend had picked up on and was why he dumped her. (He later told her that he saw how we were together and began to see that me and her fit better than him and her and he wanted us to be together.) We started dating that night and I immediately called Hannah and Polly to tell them the news joking that since I couldn’t tell my parents that I wanted to tell them and they jokingly responded by giving Eve a talking to about not hurting me.

The next couple months were ups and downs but me and Eve had each other to support and our relationship was very steady. One night when I was having a depressive episode because of my school situation (I was failing my virtual classes). I called my brother James to vent to him. While he was comforting me I told him that I had a girlfriend and he was immediately accepting, asking all about her and acting like it was normal until I brought it up specifically her being female. He assured me it didn’t matter and that he still wanted to meet her but wouldn’t tell my parents.

That winter I had to go home again for break which would be a couple months. Eve gave me her spare PS4 and a headset so we could play games together long distance and we spent our last couple days together as much as we could. Prior to me leaving she surprised me with necklaces for us that were each half of the star wars rebels symbol. Her’s had the phrase “I love you” engraved on it and mine had the phrase “I Know”.

That winter I missed her even after going back to work and finding that another character that is a part time drag queen got added to the staff. They also pretty much adopted me and my head cashier came out to me as gender-fluid. All of them were proud to hear I had a girlfriend and I was finally able to tell someone not my family all about her. I missed her a ton. So me and Eve came up with a plan.

After some figuring with my parents she was able to come visit for a couple days between Christmas and New Years as my “good friend”. It was a great time. My three siblings that were there all knew she was my girlfriend, my little sisters having figured it out when the three of us were talking. One of my sister Georgie admitted that she was considering herself to maybe be asexual and my sister Greta (who at one point said being gay was gross) came out to me as also being bisexual. We all are able to support each other.

Eve’s visit went really well and my parents adored her and she adored my parents. Though it was stressful especially right after she left and my grandmother who was visiting asked -- at the dining room table where me, my grandparents, my parents, and all my siblings were sat-- “did your girlfriend leave?” There was a split second where me and my siblings shared a telepathic moment of panic before remembering that in my grandmother’s vernacular she simply meant my friend that was a girl and I simply answered yes.

As winter break moved along I began to discuss other options with my parents about my schooling. With my ADHD and my manner of learning, virtual classes were not working for me. I had failed most of my online classes meanwhile being near the top of my classes in my in person classes. It was an obvious disparity the only exception being my math class which was a hybrid class and I will admit was a failure mostly due to my lack of ability to understand math.

I’d already been considering the idea since my depressive episode calling James who’d been the one to suggest it during the fall semester. But now the conversation was whether or not I would sit out the spring semester. After some discussion and the fact that I didn’t have a job in my college town but did at home and Hannah wouldn’t be coming back to school after graduating early. Meaning I wouldn’t have a roommate. (Polly and me had a fight and are not on speaking terms). The decision was finally made I would not be returning to college in the spring.

It was a hard decision and I had to tell Eve. I took sometime to figure out what I would say since I knew it was going to be hard. Finally I worked out the words and told her that was going to be gone for longer than planned. I knew long distance would be hard and suggest we try to make plans to stay in closer contact with each other that way it wouldn’t be as bad. I’d told her when we first started dating that communication was the most important thing to me in a relationship.

A week passed and we didn’t really discuss it as we were both busy with our individual jobs. Then I got a text from her saying she wanted to talk. The next text I received was her breaking up with me. She said she didn’t want to be the only one making the effort to see each other since she had a car and license and I didn’t. She further said she didn’t want me to feel like I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of the relationship since she was into physical intimacy. She’d decided we should break up and that was that. But she still wanted to be friends because she liked my family.

I was very placated in my response. It was a complete shock. Both because it was over text and also it had seemingly come from nowhere. She’d never communicated such feelings to me.

I reassured her that I never felt like I wasn’t getting what I wanted out of the relationship. I also told her we could still be friends but that it would take us time to figure out our balance with each other.

I called texted James when it happened and he asked if I was okay. I responded with I don’t know and he immediately called me. We talked for a while and he comforted me about the situation. The next person I told was Alex. They comforted me as well and we figured out a day where we could hang out, watch movies and eat ice cream as the normal break up fix it. I was grateful for both their support.

I was hurt by Eve’s actions. I took a risk bringing her to my home with my parents. If they had found anything out about us. I don’t know what would have happened and to call it quits without even trying to work through it or communicate how she was feeling. It felt like I wasn’t worth the effort of her feelings or time and investment.

I’d made the first draft of this before the break up and the ending had read “I hope one day I will be be to get support from my parents as well but even if I can’t, I hope that I will st least be able to be my true self around them and introduce Eve as my girlfriend”

That’s changed now. I don’t just hope that I can introduce someone as my girlfriend I hope that whoever I bring home will be accepted by my family for who they are and me for who I am. I’m not straight. I never have been. I might marry a man someday I might marry a woman but whoever I bring home. I will still be bisexual and I will never stop trying to be a voice for those who can’t speak up. Once I’m not under my parents roof. I hope I can live my true life and help those who have been muzzled and closeted for far to long as I have.

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April 3: 2x13 Obsession

Okay, trying this again! My live-blog thoughts from watching Obsession last night. I didn’t remember this ep very well, and I was a little uncertain about it going in. But ultimately I think it was a really solid Kirk episode and a really solid triumvirate episode.

How many times as hard as rock is this mineral you’re looking for? Let’s be precise. (Aka how Spock flirts.)

I’m really into the sets and special effects today. This big rock that is obviously Styrofoam. The ominous cloud of smoke.

Set phasers to disrupter-b? I feel like he just made that up.

Oh no, three red shirts set out on their own! I feel like this one is pretty smart, though.

Leslie!!! RIP my favorite extra.

“Something that can’t possibly exist… but does anyway.” That’s it, that’s the show.

Well Kirk’s obsession is obvious right away. That’s good. We’re getting right to the point.

They have to meet up with another ship in order to transport perishable vaccines!! I know from first-hand experience that that is very important! Get it together Kirk. Admitting straight out, “I’m okay with some other people dying so I can further investigate the monster” is not a good look on him.

Also I feel like TOS often confuses “cure” and “vaccine” (as in Miri) but even if these are actually vaccines, they could still save lives urgently!

McCoy’s autopsy report: uh, just look at their faces??

The Yorktown, the Farragut… someone on the AOS team loved this episode apparently. (I remembered that the Farragut was Kirk’s first assignment but I did not remember the Yorktown.)

Interesting that the creature smells of honey because “rotting honey” was the smell that indicated the presence of Area X in the Southern Reach.

Some gratuitous touching.

When Garrovick Jr. first showed up, the shot was so ominous and dramatic that I legitimately thought that the creature was a shape-shifter and that was him lol.

Is this another episode where Kirk sees himself in a promising young man and then proceeds to judge him incredibly harshly as a way of judging his own past self? I think it might be!

Garrovick looks like he’s sitting in front of a green screen during this interrogation. Honestly, the colors in this episode are really going off in general! I can see how this would be fun to watch on a new color tv.

“Go to your room! You’re grounded!”

“Put it in your report, Spock!” I really wish we’d seen AOS Kirk do that. Like, fighting with reports and regulations is one of my favorite parts of TOS but we only saw AOS Spock use that as a weapon and it was made to show what a stick in the mud he was but like… they all do it! And AOS Kirk should have too.

And now a scene where Spock and McCoy gossip about Spock’s boyfriend.

I honestly love McCoy and Spock scenes. They have such a great rapport… the respect is not even grudging, it’s clearly there, but they make it more palatable to themselves by adding in some barbs and little digs at each other. But it’s still McCoy that Spock goes to when he needs advice or even, as he says here, just someone to bounce an idea off of, and McCoy is there to listen to him.

Oh, Spock definitely understands obsession.

Kirk’s quarters are looking very purple today.

Mccoy is trying to wax poetic and Kirk just wants him to get to the point.

Time to lie down in an Emo Fashion again.

Not to be nitpicky, but if the creature killed 200 people on the Farragut, and that was half the crew… wouldn’t the Farragut be a lot bigger than the Enterprise? I don’t think that’s right. Also, not to be even more nitpicky, but how did they finally get away from it? Did it get on their ship? If it killed all the people on the surface, could they not have just… stopped hanging out on the surface?

Anyway. McCoy is such a good best friend.

Garrovick was Kirk’s Pike.

Oh no, bringing in the big guns: the boyfriend. A blue shirt conspiracy.

Spock sounds like he’s in one of those HR training videos. Like, he’s attempting to sound conversational while still blatantly quoting from the Starfleet Handbook.

“Why are we delayin’ here?” Heavy Southern drawl.

They really are ganging up on him.

Intuition is a command prerogative.

I love how Bones says “We’re not ganging up on you” after a long scene where they gang up on him.

Oh no, the creature’s on the move! Just straight up floating through space. Cool cool cool.

Kirk’s so distracted by the creature that he’s not even looking at Spock’s ass.

Another bad day for Scotty.

I like Chapel but honestly, imagine Rand in this scene with Garrovick… I miss her.

Garrovick, what an idiot. Throwing shit and hitting switches across the room.

I legit don’t understand how the creature moves in space. Or what this has to do with gravity… which doesn’t exist in space.

Monster hunt, monster hunt!

Spock is agreeing with Kirk now, about the creature’s intelligence.

Whatever is going on with the vents in this ship, it seems like maybe they’re not the most well made.

“Let’s just nuke it.” That’s always a good idea.

Spock is trying so hard to make Kirk feel better. Even calling him “Jim”—which he used to do almost every episode and now rarely does anymore.

Lol, now he’s off to try the exact same thing with Garrovick. “If Jim won’t let me comfort him, perhaps this other irrational human will.”

“Garrovick, let me explain your own thoughts and feelings to you. I’m an expert on humans, you know. I’m around them all the time.”

“I know you want to be emo, but could you please just listen to me??” The absolute transparency with which he’s trying to be helpful.

Kindness actually isn’t an emotion… it’s a choice. Spock really will call anything a human emotion in order to avoid having to deal with it.

I'm sorry but he SNAPS THE KNOB OFF, goes "eh," throws it away, and then tries to stop the gas coming through the vent with his HANDS? How did Sarek raise this boy?

Garrovick is so Dramatic. A true Kirk protégé.

The creature tried to eat Spock and Spock didn’t taste so good.

"I'm asking for your military appraisal of the techniques used against the creature." Professor Kirk coming out.

Poor creature was lost, I guess. Just wants to go home.

And SPAWN. That word just gives me flashbacks tbqh…

Kirk and Spock having their usual ‘who will sacrifice himself first’ – off.

Realistically it should be neither the XO NOR the Captain but this is a tv show.

I do remember this part. Carrying that weird little device down to the planet. It is very aesthetically pleasing. I kind of want it for my apartment, to display as like a modern art sculpture. Minus the bomb

Mmm, a delicious snack for the creature. Yum. Got that gross green blood taste out of its mouth.

LMAO at Garrovick trying to be all heroic, knock Kirk out, and become the sacrifice. You thought!!

Spock and Scotty at the controls so you know how serious the transporter situation is.

McCoy versus the transporter again.

"It was my cross-circuiting to B that recovered them." Yes, Spock saved his space husband, he saved the day, and we should all acknowledge it.

Aw, that’s sweet, Kirk volunteering to reminisce with Garrovick about his father.

The end! I ended up enjoying it a lot overall. We gotta stop having episodes where Kirk is questioned or learns lessons though lol. I want my unabashedly heroic captain! Still no matter what he is always a hero in the end. And as I said, really great triumvirate ep with good individual characterizations, and scenes with each part of the triangle together.

If the Farragut incident was 11 years before this, and, as established in the last ep, Kirk is 34, that means he was 23 at the time. Pretty young to be a lieutenant imo. He was also a lieutenant at the time he was teaching Gary Mitchell at the Academy, which I’m going to personally headcanon, starting now, was right after Garrovick’s death. He returns to San Francisco, takes a year or a semester off to teach, and meets Gary.

Next up is Wolf in the Fold, a rare Scotty-centric episode.

#the year 2021 #2021: star trek #2021: fandom thoughts #star trek tos

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