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frightfurtabby · 3 years ago

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Himikiyo Week 2021 Day 2! Bookstore Ambience

// Likewise with yesterdays entry, amino crossposting to be added later. i feel this one’s pretty damn cute

later edit- all links will be collected later in an individual post that will act as a guide/directory.

Word count: 1837

Link

AO3- https://archiveofourown.org/works/34138636

Amino- https://aminoapps.com/c/danganronpa/page/blog/himikiyo-week-day-2-bookstore-ambience/d3DX_eE8Sbum1JjvngPBwrwNV6mNR1eD7WR

A first date, depending on who you asked, was either more nerve wracking or less so than you expect. Kiyo wasn’t sure which they’d agree with but nonetheless they were fretting. Pacing back and forth in their office at the university. A cute teacher from another department had ended up inviting them out on a date, like a date date. They’d been on the job for a few years now but hardly socialized much outside the other anthropology staff who were understanding of at least some of their eccentricities.

Then just before the start of the previous semester the college hired a new batch of professors including one taking a spot over in the English department in a room in just the opposite hall. So they would see her often in the mornings downstairs in line at Coffee place, usually she was to the back of the line and they’d cross paths when Kiyo was going up with their usual order. The first sighting was like this, and entirely by chance as the anthropologist had to turn to answer a colleague briefly and eye contact was made with the cute redhead in line just over the other’s shoulder, Himiko Yumeno.

They soon hit it off, spending time talking to each other in between class periods in one room, the other, or in the previously mentioned cafe. About work, future plans, what they did in their spare time. Kiyo was always busy doing work, research generally and most of their interests revolved around it and there were days in a row just immersing themself in study. It was like that for as long as they could remember, though what in particular they were fascinated by changed over time.

Legends of monsters, legends of heroes, artifacts left behind, Asia, North America, Africa, they’d deep dive into something and come out the other end being aware of enough to teach their students in extreme detail. Little did they know at the time but in a moment of serendipity just before they met Himiko they felt a pull toward researching the history of magic. And then it turned out that she was interested in that as well.

There were very few days they didn’t find a chance to talk. They had a shared routine every day, and now was a step up.

Kiyo adjusted their collar and tie before straightening out the skirt a bit more and wondered if it was all a little too formal and they were overthinking this. They did tend to do that kind of thing after all. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too much of an issue, Himiko was definitely understanding of that kind of thing, they knew that much already. There were also the times they’d complained of that trait and she called it “adorable.”

It was to a bookstore with a cafe in it, so they didn’t need to be terribly formal. Kiyo remembered that it was taking place at around 8 tonight and looked over at the clock and realized that it was much sooner than they thought. She would be showing up any moment. Time went somewhere while they were lost in thought so they quickly put on their shoes, grabbed an umbrella just in case and headed out to the bus stop that was only a few blocks away.

The couple met while Himiko was sitting on the bench still, tapping away at her phone to text Kiyo to make sure everything was alright.

She looked up after hearing footsteps and sighed in relief. “You never seemed much like the type to show up late.”

“My apologies.”

“You also never seemed like the type to straight up ditch either, so…” she blushed and looked over down sheepishly. “I was getting a little worried something happened and you couldn’t pick me up as soon.”

“I got a bit distracted. I-” their explanation started as they took a break with her to sit and rest, arm wrapping around her shoulders.

“Was trying to make yourself extra cute for me?” the redhead teased, putting an arm around them right back and leaning in cutely..

“I… yes, I won’t deny that.” It was a cloudy evening and the autumn breeze blew downed leaves past where they had sat and began to cuddle on the bench. “You know how it is sometimes.”

“Yeah, I remember the time you genuinely didn’t grasp that the poetry I had been showing you for your input was, in fact, about you.”

Kiyo chuckled. “Oh god yeah, that took me a few to even have an inkling of it going on. I just might be the most useless lesbian ever.”

“Mmm, you’re useful for warmth sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”

“Hehe, y-you know what I mean. Like right now, it’s a bit chilly but you being here makes it not so bad.” The first date was finally here, after they had planned it to be a day they were both free. So the woman was going to savor every moment of it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The couple approached the doors of the date location holding hands, under the umbrella. Skin made cold by the walk over in spite of hands sharing warmth. Small flecks of rain along the top of the umbrella dripped down. Inside, Kiyo instantly felt the warmth of the building. It wasn’t a long trek at all, if it was they would have done this by car. Everything around here was luckily close to the campus, including home.

The umbrella was put back in its holder, so as not to drip all over the place. It would be rude to do so.

Kiyo turns and gives Himiko a peck on the cheeks. “Food and coffee first, darling?”

The shorter woman nodded and smiled. “Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”

It was just to the back left corner from the entrance. Rows and rows of enticing books had to be passed by before you could reach it, but who would come and not buy anything? Romance, sci-fi and fantasy, Manga and light novels too were all present.

After ordering, they got one booth to share, and sat down at the same side. Kiyo’s umbrella, bag, and jacket sat on the ground on the very inside corner. Everything they had ordered would be coming up, and luckily there wasn’t that much of a line on evening’s like this. The barista was even a student from university and had recognized them. It was awkward at first but Kiyo joked that it would be interesting to see which class would become fully aware they were dating first.”Let’s turn it into an experiment. Who has more Gossips attending their lectures?”

And they were glad that put her more at ease. It felt nice gently rubbing Himiko’s shoulder with their hand as she leaned in and placed a kiss on their cheek.

“Well, I sure hope it’s not mine. That’d be a pain.” she said to play into the gag a bit more. “Besides, it’d be fitting for your class.”

Kiyo feigned offense, mock gasping “Hey now what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, just you observant types over in anthropology, always wanting to know everything you can about how people work. I can see that tendency being correlated.”

They had told her previously they thought about doing more research for a paper about something like that after listening to some of their colleagues, ironic though it may be, gossipping about student rumors.

“Point taken.” Kiyo returned her smooch with their own, directly on her forehead.

The coffee and tea arrived first. So the talk continued with the added benefit of drinks. Himiko changed the subject to books on her to-read list. “You know there’s this new book I’ve been thinking of assigning in a future quarter, I’d have to read it first.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s about this girl that finds out that she has magical powers and gets some training, eventually she encounters a strange, beautiful spirit and they fall in love. I always feel like courses need a little more gay love. Oh, and the author is too, so the representation is genuine.”

KIyo nodded and listened. “That’s very good. Perhaps we’ll get a couple copies? I’ll pay. I’ll also be getting a few things that have been on my list for a while.”

They held hands, sat so close. Hans resting between both of their legs. It was such a good time to fit in cuddling any time there was a little lull in the action of the date. Some time to lazily place kisses.

Right on cue the meal arrived. Breakfast for dinner was a classic, from the bacon egg and cheese on croissant to the pie slices as a dessert. Reluctantly, they separated to more easily eat and drink.

“This is as good as it usually is, mmm, actually, it’s even better.” Himiko said, taking their hand again.

“I agree. I don’t know if coming alone will cut it for me any more.” Kiyo leaned in and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Shall we move on to the next leg, or savor this moment some more?”

The food was finished or wrapped up for later.

After a few more minutes cuddling in the booth, the couple looked through the aisles closer to the cafe portion first and Kiyo’s stack started, growing through each section until they had to split the load and have Himiko carry some.

“Sheesh, I thought you were only getting a few.” she complained, intending it to be lighthearted.

“My list is quite long.” Kiyo replied with a chuckle.

“Guess this is why you needed the bag then. If this was only a few I have to imagine it’s as long as you are.”

“Oh my~” the tall one replied, complete with suggestive eyebrow wiggling.

“Kiyo! Not like that, I meant your height. Did Iruma from the Engineering department teach you that one?”

As that line of discussion thankfully ceased the couple came to the one Himiko was looking for, it was up front on the display close to the cashier. She picked up one copy and put it on her pile and handed the second over to Kiyo.

“We could have, like, a little book club date. Just the two of us.” If only it weren’t so difficult to nuzzle close due to all these books, she thought.

“I think I’d enjoy that. Your company is always a pleasure darling.” They briefly leaned up close, cutely brushing against her before leading the way to check out.

Himiko blushed. “Yeah this was nice, we should do it more often.”

With a couple of coupons Kiyo kept in their pocket the price was cut down, but still cracked 12,000 yen. They stuffed the back full and carried it over their shoulder. Umbrella similarly along their back for if it would be needed again.

Arms wrapped around each other, the couple walked out and noticed the rain had stopped for now, and it would be dry on the bus trips back home.

#himikiyo week #himikiyo #himiko yumeno #korekiyo shinguji #college professor #au #bookstore #first date #writing #fanfic #danganronpa #danganronpa v3

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eile24downtown · 3 years ago

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A Conversation Between 2 Lesbians.......

*trying to take a nap at work*

S: There’s a couch downstairs; I could shut the door and the blinds and go for a nap hahaha 😆

E: Now that sounds like a plan😴 But hang on, you need to practice and have a good excuse just in case you're caught.....

*knocking* "Hey! Who's in there??"

S: *sleeping so doesn’t answer*

E: *person on the other side starts jiggling the door knob and the sound of keys can be heard*

S: *there’s no keys, it’s an unlocked door*😏

E: *person on other side opens door*

S: “Jodie, fuck off, I’m having 40 winks!”

Haha I think Jodie would slap me 😆🤷‍♀️

E: Oh gawd, we can't have that!! Just say you fainted😆😆😆😆

S: I’ll just Falcon punch her in the vaj and give her memory loss then go back to sleep lololol

E: I can't😆😆😆😆 oh god, no😆😆😆 A soccer punch to the vaj causing memory loss and you running away🤣🤣🤣 omg, I really can't 🤣🤣🤣🤣

S: Hahahahaha did ya like that 😆😆😆😆😆😆

E: I can't even take it all in😆😆😆😆 Just, her lying there semi lifeless and people finding her, gathering round wondering what happened all worried and then you go and are all like, "Oh no Jodie, what happened to her?" When you beat her ass just moments prior 🤣🤣🤣

S: And I’m smoothing my hair down so people don’t know I was sleeping 😆😆😆

E: 🤣🤣🤣🤣 And have something in your hand so it looks like you were just interrupted doing something 😂😂

S: “Oh, yeah, I was just, um, *brandishes toilet brush* cleaning skids!”

E: *someone turning to look at you suspiciously* "Nobody asked you......?"

Jodie: "Wait....I-..I think I remember something"

S: *hits everyone with toilet brush and legs it*

"Hope you all get E Coli!”

E: Well.........that def took an interesting turn😆😆😆😆

S: Hahahaha I know 😆😆 Then I’ll have to go on the run and hide and I’ll be all over the newspapers and they’ll call me the toilet brush fiend or something 😆

E: News Reporter: "Breaking news, a violent attack was held at *your job* when earlier this morning, a mad lesbian attacked a fellow coworker, punching her in the vagina and succeeding in leaving her unconscious. It wasn't until the poor woman awoke that she was able to point out her attacker, which only led the Sapphic criminal to attack the rest of her colleagues with what has been described as a 'deadly toilet brush'. Authorities have raided the woman's home and arrested her wife, dog and 2 cats, but the homosexual felon has yet to be found. If you have any information on the whereabouts of this queer offender, do not approach, but contact your nearest authorities. More on the story tonight at 11. Back to you Justin."

S: O

I’m howling 😆😆😆😆😆😆

E: 🤣 What are we doing??😆😆😆

S: Being tits 😆 gotta do something to get ya through life lol

@hustlingrube

#a conversation between 2 lesbians #eile24downtown #hustlingrube #useless lesbians #incorrect lesbian quotes #incorrect quotes #we have too much free time on our hands #sapphic #gay #just ignore us #useless lesbian

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years ago

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Hello Tumblr

The subreddit has directed me here to promote my realfic(s) about actor Richard Armitage on Ao3.

I do not know the etiquette of doing this, but here I am...

Here’s the first chapter of the ludicrous romcom I’m writing right now...

°1° ~Victoria~

Victoria, Vic to her friends and Vicky to her father and Tory to her ex-husband, walked briskly towards the little café at the end of her street, lifting her shoulders to her ears to shield herself as much as possible from the wind that cut into her skin and made her face flush an unflattering shade of windburned red.

She had no idea what Angie and Liza were up to, but apparently, she was to have high tea today, which in itself was not a reason to distrust her friends, but a little voice at the back of her head told her quite clearly that this was not going to end the way she had anticipated, and she was already annoyed before even knowing what they would spring on her.

As her heels clacked on the pavement in an impatient staccato, she yanked her handbag that kept sliding off her shoulder a little harder to wrestle it back in place and slammed it into her face with full force.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” She cried out in the middle of the street, rolling her eyes at her own incompetence.

When she pushed open the door though, the warm smell of cinnamon and coffee wafted into her cold, numb face and she relaxed a little, especially as the young girl behind the counter gave her big, beaming smile and took the dark grey coat from her with perfect understated courtesy.

Victoria loved this place, she had loved it from the very first time her former husband had taken her here to introduce her to the owner of the little shop for whom he had a strange fascination (which turned out to be run-of-the-mill horniness, as Angie was a lesbian).

Once, this had been a townhouse much like the one Victoria lived in now, and the old doors were still clearly visible in the bright, open room where polished white tables and dainty chairs with faded blue upholstery invited for a quiet sit-down with a good book and a steaming cup of coffee or tea.

On the old mantlepiece over a disused fireplace, daisies and peonies smiled at her from a slightly kitschy, ornate vase and her favourite spot, right next to the huge windowfront looking out on a neat little courtyard with wrought-iron tables and chairs in impeccable white, was waiting for her.

Angie had worked wonders with the small, crowded rooms, making them appear more spacious without losing the cosy feeling they had once held, and every artfully decorated plate hung on the wall had a special meaning to the dreamy, romantic woman who was the owner and boss of the establishment.

As far as middle-aged women went, Victoria was a good enough catch with her reasonably attractive physique and her actually very pretty face, not to mention her considerable smarts and her undeniable wealth, BUT Victoria was also notoriously stubborn and easily angered.

Most importantly though, at least that was what Angie and her beloved Liza thought, Victoria had taken the ludicrous and completely insane decision never to date another man again after her divorce and they were having none of that nonsense.

Hence why they were about to have high tea with her to gauge how hot her distemper was still burning after months where she had shut herself away in that little house she had taken to spite her family and avoid her ex-husband, refusing to take most calls and only ever coming to the tearoom to read a script.

As a member of a highly successful production-team, Liza had decided to offer Vic a spot as proof-reader of scripts, as her friend seemed particularly good at finding mistakes or inconsistencies. Also, Liza was convinced that Vic needed a few stories in her rather dull life after the childhood and youth she had had.

Vic took her new job as seriously as she did everything else in her life, her existence as a hermit included, and this made Angie’s plan to find her nice man to at least bed increasingly hard.

“She doesn’t want a man.” Liza had rolled her eyes at her, but Angie was convinced that it was not good for a woman to leave home and hide somewhere in London in a tiny townhouse and refuse to meet any kind of new person. It made people bitter, and she definitely didn’t want Vic to become bitter.

“Jesus, Angie, listen, I see bitter old men every day at work.” Liza had laughed, but when her girlfriend’s eyes flashed a feline green, the idea had taken hold in her own head to convince Vic to change her mind after all.

Only, not only did Vic not want to meet any men, no, she had made it very clear that there was a certain type of man that she would never ever exchange a single word with again: wealthy, suave, and handsome men, which was exactly the kind of men Liza had to sell a dime a dozen.

In this very second, she watched Vic settle down in her usual spot, waiting for her friends to arrive, her eyes narrow, suspicious slits as she surveyed her surroundings with hawk-eyed distrust.

~Richard~

He was surprised to see his phone light up and when he saw the name on the screen, his amazement only grew. There was no good reason why Martin would call him up just now as they’d meet a few days hence for one of those terrible meetings where all the rich and beautiful would stand around, bored to tears.

“Hey, what’s up?” He picked up his phone, nonetheless, curious what his friend could want from him.

Martin droned on about all kinds of things before making sure that Richard would indeed show up on that fateful evening, he had just been musing about a few minutes earlier.

It was vital that the man would be there for the success of the plan that he had hatched out with a dear friend of his, which consisted of getting two boorish, middle-aged twats to have a roll in the hay.

Maybe that hay would be pure spun gold, but the roll would be the same as it was everywhere else on this planet for all kinds of people. As far as he knew, the woman Liza had pitched had been made a millionaire by her divorce…and an emotional cripple.

After having married her high-school sweetheart, she had been replaced by a woman 10 years her junior as soon as the money and the fame started rolling in. If Liza was to be believed, she had put her heart and soul into that marriage and into the platform she now owned 50% of, which made of this banker’s daughter a good catch…Only, she apparently hated all men with a burning passion now.

Enter stage left, a rather underwhelming specimen of said population: inveterate bachelor, notoriously shy and often awkward and still stunningly handsome artiste extraordinaire Richard Armitage.

Martin had no idea how much he and Liza had drunk that evening to really believe, even for a single moment, that it would be a good idea to pair a hissing, angry, and disillusioned divorcee with a man who had not even been able to convince wide-eyed ingénues of his merit, but for some reason, they had shaken hands on their game plan and he would be damned if he was the one to drop the ball on this one.

“Yes, I will come. Why?”

That makes two of them being suspicious from the get-go, Martin thought, feeling the challenge raise his hackles and light a fire within his chest. This could be great fun if they managed to pull it off.

“Just checking in on you, old horse, don’t get your panties in a bunch over it.” Martin chirped cheerily, rubbing his hands noiselessly as he popped the earbuds in to move around the house while being on the phone like the puttering busybody he was.

Richard pinched the bridge of his nose in silent exasperation, he worked too much and socialised too little, he was well aware of that, but God, what did people expect of him? Secretly, he HAD thought about ducking out of this function on the down low, but now, that was virtually impossible as at least one person would indeed be looking out for him to show up.

There was an edge to Martin’s voice that he didn’t like all too much either as it announced some mischief he could not yet fathom, but already, he could feel the shadow of those dark rainclouds falling on him and it made him frown impatiently.

He had no time to be the butt of a joke or the unsuspecting victim of some cruel prank that had been hatched in good faith, he had no doubt whatsoever about that, but he was too old to be made a fool of in public and he hoped that his friend would know that, and respect his boundaries.

Poppycock, the hell he would, Richard thought with a sigh, rubbing his forehead to dispel the headache that was building constantly behind his eyes. He really should be wearing those glasses more consistently, but he tended to forget when he was sitting around at home, lounging comfortably around with a good book and planning a productive, prolific future that would keep him from thinking too much about the things he had missed out on.

“I’ll be there, don’t you worry.” He grumbled, hoping that there would be enough mainstream artists so he could blend into the background and slip out of the crosshairs of those who were after some funny business.

“Then I’ll see you there. I’m sure you’ll look ravishing.” Martin chuckled and earned a disgruntled growl from his friend and colleague which made him laugh silently. Oh, he was smelling that something was up, Richard was too smart to be taken unawares, but he was also adorably easily to get flustered sometimes, and, if he was honest, Martin enjoyed that a great deal.

For a second, he pondered if it would be cheating to pull Ben into the fray, but he knew that he’d need help to steer poor, old Richard into the right direction and there was only so much a single man could do.

#richard armitage #fanfic #writing #longfic #realfic #ao3 #introduction #hello #fanfiction #tom hiddleston #oc #never say never #same username #rpf

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teenytinystorage · 5 years ago

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Can you make a fanfic with Logan and Deceit only talking in memes

Hi!! so I don’t think this is exactly what you wanted... but I love them Brain Cell Bois so i hope you enjoy!!

•——•

Vocab Cards

Summary: Logan is very much Struggling with learning new slang, but who decides to actually help the Disaster Nerd but the slimy snake boy Deceit? Welp, this’ll be interesting.

Word Count: 1,291

Warnings: one (1) “not wanting to hurl” mention, implied body horror

Genre: Fluff?? Probably?

Pairings: Platonic/Romantic Loceit

“You know,” Deceit quipped, staring down at his gloved fingers as he stood in front of the camera and to the left of Logan, “you’re not very good at those.”

“At what?” Logan responded quickly, stuffing his “LOL” vocabulary card back into his jeans pocket as the other sides watched the two banter.

“Those vocabulary cards! Oh, you ‘ought to have someone teach you this stuff,” Deceit flicked his tongue at his teeth, “Who am I kidding, I’d even write some cards for you at this point,” he snickered before turning to Thomas. “But Thomas--”

So then, Deceit knows some slang, Logan thought, Deceit’s wittiness still ringing in his ears even after the video ended and the sides each dispersed into their respective rooms.

He sat at his computer, typing and retyping LOL into UrbanDictionary to make sure that, yes, his card was right, LOL was an acronym that stood for “laughing out loud” and he had his definition right on the card.

He even used it the right way too. He said, “Thomas, this is not a LOL matter.”

That’s the right usage. Sure it messed up the phrase “laughing matter” up a bit, but it was hip, so it didn’t matter too much.

So why was it so badly received? Did Deceit really know more about this whole slang deal than he did?

I’d even write some cards for you at this point, Deceit had said earlier.

Hm. Hmmm. Hm indeed.

Logan could use the outside perspective, in his opinion. He knew it wasn’t reliable to have only one source on anything, but for slang, he could never find any other “reliable sources” (HUGE air quotes on that, UrbanDictionary was in no way a college-research-paper-worthy site) but one; everything else just made no sense and was contradictory and confusing.

Maybe conferring with a knowledgeable colleague on the subject could be useful? That always helped with the scientific method. And Logan was basically going into this whole trend thing blind anyways, so it wasn’t like any conversation between them could hurt.

This line of thinking led Logan to stand from his seat, stuff a few blank index cards into his pockets and a ballpoint pen in there too for good measure. He gave one final adjustment of his glasses before sinking down into the classy snake-faced side’s room.

Deceit, sitting on his couch, engrossed in a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, gave a glance and then a double-take of Logan before sighing heavily and shutting his book.

“Ep ep ep--” Deceit held his pointer finger up in the air, “before you ask, yes, Remus did your little project and confirmed that we can regenerate limbs. And before you ask, no, I did not ask how he found it out because I didn’t care nor did I want to hurl today.”

“I actually came here to-- wait, really?” Logan responded, surprised, taking out an index card and quickly jotting down the findings. “Fascinating.”

“It’s ickier to me than it is fascinating, no cap,” Deceit complained as he smoothed the fringe peeking out from his hat. “But it’s your research and not mine, so go off, I suppose.”

Then Logan, upon hearing Deceit’s confusing phrases about hats and/or glacial structures and his encouragement for Logan to keep researching and/or to leave (slang was so confusing), remembered what he came here for in the first place.

“Right, Deceit,” Logan stuffed his index card of findings into his pants pocket, adding, “Earlier today I used a slang term that I believe stands for ‘laughing out loud,’ but your reaction implied to me that I may have been incorrect in the context of its usage. Would you care to elaborate on that?” Logan asked, clicking the pen in his pocket a few times as he spoke.

Deceit lounged back on the couch and held the back of his head in his hands. “Cssssertainly. You should totally use acronyms as if they’re the actual words they stand for, it definitely isn’t cringe-worthy at all.”

Logan, bewildered at the fact that Deceit even decided to answer his query (or humor him, more likely), quickly filed the information into his brain. “Oh. Oh, okay. And would you be willing to maintain your offer of assisting me with inscribing more vocabulary cards?”

“I hope you realize that was just some quick and witty charm of mine,” Deceit hummed. “You do take things very seriously though. That’s just your vibe.”

Logan’s expression faltered a bit. “Oh.”

Deceit paused, glancing his eyes up at the ceiling irritatedly before looking back at Logan. “You know what? If it keeps you from committing any other word atrocities such as the one today, then sure, I’ll help.”

“Really?” Logan replied just barely before he sank out and perused the internet for at least four hours for new slang terms on his own. “You would?”

“Sure. But I’m not a meme connoisseur by any means, I leave that to the raccoon. I’ll still try my best, though.”

It was relatively quiet in Deceit’s room after Deceit’s initial lecturings, including “never describe emojis out loud in words” and “for the love of your nonexistent mother, please never use ‘periodt’ like it’s actual punctuation.”

“So was it Lebanese or lesbian?” Logan asked, scribbling on another index card and laying stomach-down on the floor.

“It was lesbian,” Deceit said, sitting vertically and upside-down on the couch with his head almost on the floor and his hat barely hanging onto his head.

“Ah,” Logan commented, finishing the card. “Is the humor supposed to arise from the child thinking the camera-lady said Lebanese instead of lesbian, which conflicts with her allegedly American nationality?”

“No one knows,” Deceit answered.

“Ah, of course,” Logan replied, setting the card into a now growing stack of finished terms.

The two kept writing.

“Ok, here’s a test,” Deceit said a few minutes later, turning to Logan. “And they were roommates.”

Logan took a second before responding, monotonously, that is, “Oh my god, they were roommates.”

Deceit nodded his head in surprise. “You’re getting good at this.”

“You think so?” Logan asked, a small sense of accomplishment seeping into him.

“Well you’re certainly better than the LOL matter from before,” Deceit commented, chuckling.

Soon the next video had already started before Logan knew it.

“But doesn’t it seem like the right thing to do here is help?” Patton asked, twiddling his fingers together.

Thomas sighed.

“Well, I think that y’all’d’ve a bit of patience for Thomas. His vibes are a bit whack at the moment, no cap,” Logan interjected, still in his monotone voice.

The sides, and Thomas as well, stared at Logan in disbelief.

“What?” Logan peered around the room.

“Where did you learn all that?” Virgil asked, jaw hanging open and eyes wide.

“Deceit taught me a bit more about slang so I don’t inspire any more cringe-fests for you all.”

“Weird flex, but okay,” Deceit replied, rising up next to Logan.

“Agh!! Can you just leave— him—” Virgil shot a glare at Deceit, “—out of this??” Virgil pleaded, now irritated and growling under his breath. “I’ve already had my fair share of sleep-paralysis demons for today.”

“Quite uncommon for the Protohype to be so well-versed in lingo,” Roman mused. “But alas, go forth I proclaim.”

“Yeah, good work Logan, but what is Deceit doing here again?” Thomas asked, to which Patton replied: “Yeah, I think Thomas has his mind pretty well made up on this decision already!”

“Oh please,” Deceit started.

Logan couldn’t help but, for a moment, revel in his success, before, of course, going back to being the coolest cool teacher cool guy in the entire Thomas-sphere.

What a nice thing it is to learn, isn’t it?

#people really do be liking loceit after not liking it for a while huh?#(its me im people)#i love... the Boys.... 💛💙#sanders sides #deceit sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #loceit #platonic loceit #romantic loceit #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus mention

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howardpotts · 5 years ago

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four: buy your pretty heart

Love on the Brain - Masterlist in links

Pairing: MobBoss!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You’re just a student, living her normal daily life in New York. One night changes everything, without you even knowing. Steve Rogers slowly introduces you to his world full of money, drugs and violence. But are you able to handle what he has to offer?

Chapter warning: Uhmm none, i think.

A/N: I haven’t uploaded in a while, but I had some unplanned hiatus. It’s just that a lot has happened privately that made me lose interest in anything. I hope this chapter is any good, since it’s been written in small pieces in the last 3 months.

Let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

You thought you were going to spend your entire day daydreaming about the night before, instead you were thinking over and over about what has happened.

Even when Wanda was gushing to you about that girl and how they spent the entire night dancing, kissing, talking - you had a hard time to keep your thoughts away and your focus on her. She looked tired, just as you. Big bags under her eyes, hair was a little bit more fussy than normal. You tried to cover your tiredness with makeup, which was pretty well done in your opinion.

You were grateful it was friday, meaning that you could focus on other stuff on the weekend. Take your mind of whatever happened today, trying to suppress it til monday; when Steve is going to take you out on dinner and, well, probably fuck you senseless after.

“Lets go shopping after school”, Wanda stated. She had a date on sunday and she knew that you were going to meet with Steve on monday. You told her about yesterday night, but you didn’t dare to tell her what happened this morning. You didn’t want to get her in any kind of trouble.

“Wan, you’re a genius”, you admitted, smirking to her. She claps her hands in excitement, her golden bracelets sounding like bells, making her look even more enthusiastic.

You slumbed out of your class, eyes a little foggy from all the staring to the screen in front of you. The teacher had you noting everything he said on your computer. It couldn’t get any more boring than it already was - and that on a friday afternoon.

“What kind of dress are you looking for?”, you asked Wanda, trying to shake away the boring class. She hooked her arm into yours as you walked through the busy hallways of the school. You both didn’t care to look who was walking around, you just wanted to get out of here and into the city, focussing on way more exciting things.

“I think something laced. Black, maybe? Or would that be a bit too tame?”, she asks you.

“Depends on the dress”, you respond. “A little bit of lace, a shape that makes your figure look like candy and it can serve you well.”

The fresh air gives you new energy when you step outside. It’s pretty cold outside, but for February, it’s actually quite nice.

A call of your name has you looking around. Some guy approaches you. Brown hair, little bit ruffled. You have never seen him in your life. “Steve sent me. He wanted me to give you this.”

A big grin on Wanda’s face, and you fake one too. It isn’t that you don’t like Steve, but at this moment you were a little bit terrified of what could be in the package. You want to , thank the guy, but he’s already walking down the stairs, acting like he never spoke to you.

“Open it, open it!”, Wanda squeals enthusiastically.

Your heart could jump out of your chest when your hand moves to open the package.

There’s a little note on top of it, almost flying out of the box as the wind waves lightly in the box. You grab it quickly and turn it around.

Wear this and nothing else.

Wanda giggles, you blush. A little paper still hides what exactly is in the box but Wanda’s patience is wearing thin and she gets rid of it as quickly as you can blink.

There’s a black jacket in it. On the inside a label saying ‘BALMAIN’.. Wait, that’s designer right? That’s a pretty well known brand. Not that you expected Steve to get you some cheap stuff, but designer? Did he really put that much money into you or did he send this to every other girl, asking it back after wearing it once? Ew, no, he didn’t do that. That’s disgusting.

“BALMAIN?”, Wanda gasps. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Where the hell did you find this guy- Don’t answer that.”

“That’s pretty expensive, right?”, you ask. Her eyes turn big as she watches you.

“Yes, that’s fucking expensive”, she calls, still impressed by the gift in your hands. “And we’re not talking hundreds here, darling. We’re talking thousands. Two, maybe three.”

“Thousand?”

“Thousand!” She throws her hands in the air to give the words even more of a drama effect.

You don’t know what to say. Or do. It’s kind of overwhelming, to be honest. You’ve met the guy not even 24 hours ago, and he already gave you the responsibility to decide a man's fate and now he gave you a jacket worth thousands. You have to admit that it creeps you out. Alarm bells are going off, warning you to cut him out of your life and find a good man. One that will swoon your parents and will probably be better for you than he’ll ever be.

But you’re flattered at the same time. Why would someone like him - a man with charm, looks, grace, money and a lot of female attention - invest money in someone like you? You’re not special in any way. You’re as average as can be. You’re a communications student, living in some apartment with two other roommates because you can’t afford to rent one for your own. You have some kind of barista job in the weekends, trying to earn enough to pay for your rent, food and some fun activities.

“Maybe we should drop this first”, you suggest, looking at the box in your hands.

As you walk, Wanda starts talking about her night. “She was amazing”, she sighs. “I walked up to her and straight up told her how beautiful she looked. Later on she told me she liked that directness, that no one ever does that to her.”

You’re so happy for Wanda. She’s been crushing on this girl for a few weeks now, but never acted on it. Apparently everyone thought that the girl was pretty intimidating.

“Wait, what was her name again?”, you ask, interrupting her story.

“Maria”, she answers quickly before picking up her story again. “Anyway, we started dancing, but I wasn’t sure if she was into women. So I kept my distance, and so did she, so I got more and more insecure. I looked over at you and saw you chatting with some guy. When I looked back, I saw her checking me out. And I’m not talking about girl-ready-to-bitch kind of checking, but the lesbian kind of checking.”

You chuckle. Her stories were always this over the place - but it was fun to listen to. She always knew how to keep you interested, waiting eagerly on how the story is going to end.

“So that kind of felt like my que. Wow, I say a lot of ‘kind of’, don’t I? Anyway, I moved a bit closer, gave her my famous flirty eyes.”

You walk over a crosswalk and turn right after, only two streets away from your apartment.

“Did you kiss?”, you ask, not being able to wait anymore. You need to know.

“Oh honey, we didn’t just kiss. We made out, we did the dirty, we went down town, we-”

“Yeah, okay, I get it”, you laugh. She chuckles and pushes you lightly when you fake roll your eyes.

“Will you see her again?” Her eyes glow up after you ask that question. She nods furiously as she grabs her phone, showing you a few messages. Excitedly, you squeal lightly.

“Thank you a thousand times for joining me last night”, she sighed as she hooked her arm in yours once again. A content feeling settles in you as you walk further. A few seconds of silence between the two of you. Cars pass by, people sometimes almost bump in to you as you walk further down the street.

“And your night had to be pretty exciting as well, right?”, Wanda breaks the silence, wiggling her eyebrows. You nod, a little smirk on your lips.

“God, it was good”, you sigh. You tell your story shortly but swiftly, letting details pass and not mentioning what happened the morning after.

“And more than a one night stand?”, she asks you as you stand in front of your apartment door. You give her a quick look before focussing on letting yourself in.

“I’m not sure”, you say. “I think we just want to booty call each other. And apparently giving me gifts.”

You let yourself in your room and drop the box on your bed. Again you open it, this time taking the jacket out. It turns out to be longer than you thought. He was quite serious about not wearing anything else. The jacket is long enough for you to cover up everything you want to hide from the public. But it also shows enough to seduce him. And he knows that.

“Can you please stay another hour?” Your manager, Sarah, looks at you with her big puppy eyes. “Pretty, pretty please?”

A little smirk is on your face as you roll your eyes. “What would you do without me?”, you say as you put on the brown apron again, after taking it off just a minute ago.

“I would be homeless and a failure. Thank you a thousand times!”, she cheers as she grabs your shoulder to give it a little squish. You smile and walk back into the little cosy cafe. It was pretty crowded, with a little line of five people waiting outside to get a free table.

Slowly you check your half of the cafe, the front half. Your colleague, Brent, watches over the other half and Sarah is behind the bar making the best coffee of the city. She owns the cafe and made it a big success, promoting her selfmade cookies and waffles as her original trademark. And it works. Whenever it isn’t busy, you make small talk with the customers and they always tell you that they’ve heard from someone else that they had to try one of her delicious cookies.

A man puts his hand in the air, making a little gesture to come over. You put on your smile and walk over. “How can I help you?”

“Why don’t you start by giving your number?”, he smirks. “And a cappuccino.”

Your hand balls into a fist, nails digging into your flesh as you watch his smug face. He watches you. Not even your face, but your body. He checks you out.

“Sorry sir, we’re not allowed to give out personal information to our customers”, Brent hops in from behind you. You turn your back to the customer and mouth a little ‘thank you’ to him.

You walk towards Sarah and ask her for the cappuccino the guy asked for. As much as you’d like to not serve him his coffee, you still had to be customer-friendly.

“Why don’t we switch sides ‘til the d-bag over there leaves this place?”, Brent asks when he stands beside you before focussing on Sarah. “Oh and a latte plus a chocolate chip cookie for table fifteen.”

You nod, a little smile appearing on your face. You couldn’t be happier with your colleagues and your boss, they were all so attentive and supportive to each other. There was this atmosphere that made you enjoy the work you were doing. You’ve worked at other places where the ambience was a little bit different.

The cappuccino appears on the counter, not a second later it’s in Brents hands and he walks towards the guy. It wasn’t the first time someone asked for your number - and you wouldn’t be annoyed if he asked about it nicely. But the arrogance on his face and his eyes on your boobs did not make a good first impression.

“And the latte, cookie’s coming right up”, Sarah sighs as she put down the latte. You give her a quick smile. She grabs a small white plate and puts a napkin on it first before grabbing the wobbly cookie.

See, the thing about Sarah’s cookies was that it wasn’t just your ordinary round cookie. It was a bit thicker, but still moist from the inside. It was a little bit warm, the chocolate was on the edge of melting, and the sugar wasn’t as overwhelming as most are. The moment you had your first cookie, you fell in love. You actually had to watch yourself to not overeat, restraining yourself to one cookie a week.

As you walk to table fifteen, you take a quick look at it already. Just swiftly taking in the customer to decide what kind of small talk you can make. Most of the time you could see it in a splitsecond; some were here just to work, some were here for some social acts, and with some you had to guess.

But this one had you by surprise. He made your breath stuck in your throat. How in the living hell did he end up here? Did he stalk you?

“One latte and a chocolate chip”, you say nervously. With a little shake, you put down the latte. “I didn’t expect to run into you here.”

His blue eyes meet yours, making you hot all over. You’re not sure if it’s because of the nerves, because of the things he made you feel or because of the morning you’ve witnessed at his place.

“It’s my regular. I didn’t expect you’d work here”, he countered. You give him a little smirk as you also put down the cookie. “Did Paul give you the package?”

“Yes, he did.” You didn’t know what else to say. To say it’s beautiful? That you like it? That you’ll wear it? That’d be cheesy.

“Good. I hope to see you in it tomorrow”, he smirks as he takes a sip from his latte.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t”, you tease as you turn around, moving your hips a little bit more as you walk to your next customer.

Tags: (OPEN)

@mcueveryday @mschellehitt @thamuddagirl @buckysthot @what-if-i-am-weird @myspectacularfantasies @ornella0910 @steeeeverogers @babygirl-htx @estillion14 @my-super-musical-life @tranquil--heart @golddaggers @swanlakemikey @notyourtypicalrose

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers #captain america x reader #mobboss!steve #mobboss #mobboss!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers au #steve rogers x you #reader x steve rogers #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader

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calmedflames · 4 years ago

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----- OH GOD how do you rp again?? hm anyWAY the name’s ria ( believe no one else mads when they say otherwise ) 22 , in the worst timezone possible and p much always confused !! but i have some probably not helpful info about two precious children under the cut so YAH

『 JAMIE MOON || 28 || FLOWER SHOP CLERK / BARTENDER 』

god she’s so pretty i cry BUT ANYWAY y’all ready for some tragic bs story? well get ready.

so jamie’s adopted ----- ok not as dramatic but like lstn ,, she was born in busan, south korea into a pathetic excuse for a family , cue abusive dad and helpless mom and poor af but like she made peace with it only cause she learned how to shut off her feelings and lived in denial p much

but one day her dad gets an offer from one of his work colleagues to move to the US and be the head of the office there ,, they just have to pay a “small” fee and other expenses like visas and shit but being the idiot that he is , sells off everything they have so that they can move and when they reach washington , there’s nothing --- no office no people ,, nothing

they don’t know the language , have no house , no nothing SO OFC the only logical reason was for him to kill himself and mom followed suit and now our 14 yr old girl has no where to go :)

jamie now somehow has to learn to live in a new country all by herself ,, fantastic -- but she does... sleeps on benches or finds people here and there who sometimes help her or rob her OH WELL but yeah eventually a store owner takes pity and lets her work for some food and eventually they help put jamie in the system

YA GIRL GETS ADOPTED BY A RICH ASS FAMILY

her adoptive parents are nice and all but after her, they adopted another younger child and later had a child of their own so hello insecurities of being kicked out anytime soon

so eventually she worked and borrowed some money from the fam and moved out and now yeah now she’s just chillin’

that’s all i got okay be nice

oh also lesbian af

WANTED CONNECTIONS

past reflections : maybe some people she met during the time she lived on the streets ... people who helped her or who she stayed with for a couple of days or someone took advantage or robbed her or whatever

thicker than blood : gimme her two younger siblings thanks

exes and ohs : did someone say ex-girlfriend? yes.

a (girl) crush : someone she likes but is obviously straight but she’s just heart eyes

a (boy) crush : some guy she probably dated a while back to make her parents happy but obviously had no future w cause she gay

regular mistakes : ayeee friends w benefits bc who doesn’t want that

idk man anything you can think of lmk

『 RICK SULLIVAN || 37 || ANIMAL SHELTER OWNER 』

ok but how cute is he

imma be honest there’s not much exciting to his background and that has nothing to do with the fact that i literally created this character under peer pressure ( ahem mads ahem ) maybe it does

so he was born in a small town in texas , loving mom and dad and eventually had a little sister who he adores with all his heart and picture perfect family ----- i mean all families have their issues but it was mostly good

their mom stayed home and looked after the kids and their little farm while their army man dad bravely fought wars

but ofc , one day the letter of their dad’s death comes and the responsibilities of being the man of the house fall on poor 16 year old rick

and he did what he could to help out , small odd jobs that earned some money while balancing school and all that ---- but it turned out good , eventually making enough money to take his little family and move to elms and start his own little animal shelter

BUT SO our boy rick is a simple man , kind , sweet , handsome , helpful , likes to travel ( although has never been anywhere ), likes to paint once a while also is romantic and likes long walks on the beach

OH ALSO i forgot to mention , the one woman he fell in love with left him at the alter :))

so yeah , after that he was a little broken , his sunshine personality took a hit and he went on a drinking binge for a bit but yah mads just hates all of my characters and does this every time

WANTED CONNECTIONS

little one : his younger sister please , i imagine they have a good relationship but lets talk about it for sure

mother knows best : well yeah , his mom , pretty straightforward. she took good care of ‘em as children but also put a lot of pressure on rick’s shoulders at a young age and they’re good for the most part and he’s super protective of her , sometimes annoyingly but in good faith

best buddy : everyone needs a best friend you guys

bad habits die hard : so like i said , rick is goody two shoes but went in a “bit” of a spiral after the whole wedding thing so probably someone who taught him to drink and become a. as rick would say a “ hardcore baddie ” ---- god he’s so lame

animal shelter employees : who wants to come hang out with cool old man rick and his adorable puppies

#info.#about.#idk #ah a dave gif for the first time after 2k14 #its only fitting #anyway come plot w us thanks #tw: suicide mention

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goddessofthundathighs · 5 years ago

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VII: WAITING

Suggested Listenings/Songs Mentioned: Overstimulated x Jhené Aiko; Loaded Gun x 6LACK; New Apartment x Ari Lennox

A/N: Instead of writing a separate chapter, the prompt that you picked is in this one @heybriheyyy!

The sound of heels clicking against the black and gold marble floors of the hallway alerted Erik of Skylar’s arrival. The pair had agreed to meet in his office for lunch to discuss his date with O’Shea and other methods of therapy he could implement going forward. For this to be merely a meeting among friends, she was dressed to kill sporting an ivory turtleneck sweater and black pinstripe pencil skirt that hugged her physique in all the right places. On her feet were a pair of black Priyadora Louboutin open-toe sandals and her signature gold wire-rimmed glasses held their usual place atop her head.

She walked in and shut the door behind her, a silent cue for Harper to cancel his appointments for at least the next hour.

“First of all, you’re an ass for leaving her the way you did. I understand that you were upset at her for laughing, but you could’ve handled that so much better.” Erik dropped his head. Though he rectified the situation, he knew that there was no way he would be able to escape Sky’s wrath about how he reacted to his phallus getting caught in Shea’s braces.

“I fixed it!” he declared, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat.

“Oh I know. Disney, huh?” Her lips were twisted into a knowing smirk, much to Erik’s disdain.

“It’s not what you think,” he lied unsuccessfully.

“Oh it’s exactly what I think, Stevens. You’re falling for her.”

“I am not.”

“Then what do you call it?” He paused for a moment, avoiding her face at all cost. He was reluctant to speak because it was a question he had been asking himself ever since he dropped O’Shea off at home the previous Friday. Sky must’ve sensed his dilemma because her demeanor softened as she took a seat in the chair across from him.

“Ok, let’s try this approach: why are you so drawn to her? Is it personal or purely experimental?”

“Is it selfish to say both?”

“Not entirely. Elaborate.”

“I can say that I like her, but it’s the way that I like her and the reasons why that is a mystery at the moment. On a personal level, she’s incredibly smart and beautiful. She challenges me much like you do and I genuinely like being in her company. On a professional level, I’m curious to how each of her personalities react in a true relationship setting. I could use that information to possibly determine why her past relationships failed and ensure that it doesn’t happen again.”

Skylar listened intently as Erik explained before giving her insight to the situation.

“That may be well and good but the fact still remains that she is a patient and a colleague of mine. Are you prepared to completely cross that line or do you want to solely as a means of furthering your research?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer as she continued her lecture. “Furthermore, if you choose the latter, are you prepared to handle the possible blowback? As free as you are with your methods there is still the review board to report to and they will ensure that every step you take is well documented down to the flavor of lube.. and ETHICAL. Tread very softly. I don't wanna see you lose your license over some emotional bullshit that could easily be straightened out.”

“That’s actually the part that scares me the most. I need to figure something out and fast.” Skylar agreed before grabbing her bag.

“Well let me know what you come up with,” she replied as she began making her way out of the office, leaving Erik with his wayward thoughts. He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the text thread between he and O’Shea, chuckling to himself at their playful banter.

“What are you doing to me, Ms. Powell?” he spoke aloud with a sly smile, completely oblivious to the woman that now occupied his office.

“Dr. Stevens?” the young woman spoke, her soft voice causing him to lift his head. She sported a black biker jacket with blue jeans and timberland boots, her hair a curly mess atop her head.

“Yes, how may I help you?” he asked as he sat back in his chair.

“My name is Oya Ramirez. We spoke on the phone briefly the other day.”

“Oh yes, Ms. Ramirez, please have a seat.” Though her smile was bright, her eyes held pain. He could tell that life hadn’t exactly been good to her, but she was trying to make the best out of a bad situation.

“What brings you by, Ms. Ramirez?” he inquired as he sat up straight and grabbed a pen.

“Well, as of late, I've been having trouble achieving orgasms. I know what I like and I know all of the things necessary to get me to that point, but nothing seems to be working. I’ve scared off all of my usual partners because they say that my sex drive is too high and it’s unattractive, which I find absolutely ridiculous.” He looked up with one eyebrow raised, staring at her as though he’d seen a ghost. Everything she said was exactly what O’Shea had told him on their first meeting and he was starting to wonder if he were being Punk’d.

“I read this article in a psychology magazine about how you help women with that sort of thing and I was wondering if you could help me.” Erik couldn’t tell if it was fate or if God had a twisted sense of humor, but this was exactly the sort of thing he needed. He could use the treatment methods he used on O’Shea as a placebo to see if they would truly be practical enough to incorporate into his usual routine. Maybe leveling the playing field would also help him gain clarity of the O’Shea situation.

“Alright Ms. Ramirez, what are your kinks?” As she rattled off the list, he learned that she was a bratty lesbian looking for a dom to tame her.

“Well Ms. Ramirez, my schedule is pretty full at the moment, however, here’s my business partner’s card. She’ll be more than happy to assist you with your needs.”

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

“A business trip? For how long?” O’Shea pouted from her seat across from his desk.

“It’s only going to be a week, but in that week I want us to not contact one another. Instead, I want you to try and implement other methods to destress.”

“Did I do something? Was it something I said?” Buttercup begged in a tone so pitiful it almost made Erik cancel the whole trip and cradle her in his arms like the baby she was. He could see Sky in the back of his mind shaking her head and he could hear her saying, "Unhealthy attachment. Transference." And this is exactly why I need to go. We both need clarity.

“I’m not abandoning you, Princess. Trust me, this time next week we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled program and I’ll even have new things for us to try.”

O'Shea blinked at the thought of something new and interesting brought in specifically for her, curiosity softening the blow of temporary abandonment. Afterall, it was only a week and she'd gone longer without attention. She could probably do it again.

The thought crossed her mind to call up Cameron or Michael, past contacts she'd usually turn to in moments when she needed something quick. Neither Bennie, Buttercup, or Bianca would be satisfied, but at least O'Shea would be getting something. However, just as soon as the thought came, it left again. They just weren't worth it, besides there was something sexy and a little charming about waiting. Maybe distance would make their hearts grow fonder.

“Okay, I guess I can deal with that. Just don’t be tryna replace me while you’re gone,” she fake pouted.

“Someone sounds possessive,” he teased as he lead her out of his office, his hands by his side as to not complicate things further. She merely smiled, and continued out to her car, trying hard not to let the bratty beast within her loose before their little experiment had even began.

“Not possessive, just confident. There’s only one O’Shea Powell, Dr. Stevens. Have a safe trip.”

With that, she slid into the driver’s seat of her Benz and drove off into the sunset, leaving Erik yearning to be in her presence once again.

Crushing the line // cutting the line // crossing the line// Bumps in the night // Got me over here overstimulated // Crushing the line // cutting the line // crossing the line // Bumps in the night // Got me, got me over here, over

The first day without Erik was quiet. O’Shea went to work and back home and curled up with a book to ease her mind, her Something Chill playlist playing softly in the background. Though she didn’t want to believe that it was her fault that Erik had left, that’s where her mind kept drifting. She tried to convince herself that their interactions were nothing more than patient/client, she couldn’t ignore the obvious. Regardless of what was going on, no one would willingly purchase a Pandora bracelet or any other token of affection if there weren’t some feelings involved. Could it be that he too felt what she was feeling and was distancing himself to put those feelings into clarity? If so, then why wouldn’t they just talk things out like adults? Separation only gives way to doubt and doubt ruins everything. O’Shea sighed and closed her book. This week was about to be a long one.

“Ade due Damballa, give me the power I beg of you! Leveau mercier du bois chaloitte. Seciose entinne mais pois de morte. Morteisma--”

“Girl, what the hell are you doing?” O’Shea stopped mid-chant and opened one eye to find Skylar standing over her, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“I was tryna bring my nigga back, damn,” O’Shea pouted, placing the Pandora bracelet back on her wrist. Skylar doubled over in laughter at the meek woman before her. Erik had only been gone 2 days and she was already acting crazy.

“First of all, stop it, you look stupid. That only works for the transference of spirits and you need the actual Heart of Damballa in order for it to work.”

“I keep forgetting you a wholeass Creole voodoo priestess in your spare time,” O’Shea remarked, pulling out her sketchbook to draw more prototypes.

“And you’re acting like a lovesick puppy.”

“I don’t know what it is, Sky. Like aside from the bomb ass head, I actually miss our conversations. He listened to me, made me laugh. Hell he was the first man in a while that actually cared about how my day was going and how I was feeling throughout the day. I know that’s his job as a therapist and all, but something about it seemed different.”

“Do you think you’re possibly starting to grow feelings for him?”

“Absolutely not!” Shea lied. In actuality, it was a thought she’d mulled over several times since their Disney adventure.

“Why do y’all insist on lying to me? Tell me what’s going on with you,” Sky said, pulling up a chair beside her. O’Shea sighed heavily, not really wanting to expose her true feelings, but Skylar wasn’t just anyone. She was a confidant and also a neutral source. If anyone could help Shea sort through her emotions, it would be her.

“I honestly don’t know how to explain it. Like on one hand, he’s strictly my therapist. Someone more than qualified to help me address my current issues and find and adequate solution. On the other hand, he’s Erik. An incredibly smart and equally handsome man that has put me in my place more times in the last few months than I can remember. I haven’t even laid eyes on the dick yet and I’m already acting like a prized poodle in the Westminster Kennel Club. When he says jump, I want to ask how high and that scares me. Instead of being turned off or annoyed by my little personalities, he embraces and nurtures them in a healthy way and I’m having a hard time distinguishing whether he’s this way because he genuinely wants to be or because, as a doctor, he has to be.” Skylar nodded, absorbing everything that O’Shea had to say before adding her two cents.

“So, I’ll ask again, are you growing feelings him? Before you answer, think about this: if you are growing feelings, are you capable of continuing a professional relationship with him if those feelings aren’t reciprocated?” O’Shea hadn’t thought about the fact that Erik may not feel the same and hearing it now had her stomach in knots. Skylar sensed her dilemma and continued her speech.

“Now I’m not asking this to scare you or to send you off the deep end with your emotions, but I’m being realistic. I honestly think you two need time apart so you both can get clarity of the situation as well as come to terms with whatever y’all are both feeling towards one another.

“He’s going to Wakanda for a week. He suggested that we not call or text one another the entire trip, something about finding other methods to destress.” Leave it to Erik to already be three steps ahead.

“Good. While he’s gone, I have a yoga class I think you’ll be interested in and we can go together.”

“Eww, I hate yoga,” Shea complained.

“You’ll enjoy this, trust me.”

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

The sunset in Wakanda was always the most beautiful part of visiting his aunt and cousins. It had been a few years since he’d visited the advanced nation and each time, something new caught his attention. This time, it was the customizations she had made to T’Challa’s Black Panther suit that caught his eye. She had added a stealth mode, meaning he could go invisible if needed be when he was in battle. His younger cousin never ceased to amaze him with her genius nature. One he’d gotten his belongings put away, he set out to find his aunt Ramonda. She was his second mother and if anyone could help him gain clarity of his current predicament, it was her. He found her seated in the floating tea room that overlooked the lush garden at the center of the palace. It was her one of her favorite places in the palace. She always came here when she wanted to get away and clear her head. She was adorned in a white Wakandan lace robe with a matching headdress.

“Auntie, can I talk to you about something?” She beamed, giving him a knowing smile before beckoning him to sit down beside her. She took his hand into her own and squeezed it gently, letting him know that he could speak freely.

“Tell me about her,” was all she said, noting the troubled look in his eyes.

“Who said a girl was involved?” She stared up at him incredulously before chuckling.

“You ask that as though I do not know you, N’Jadaka. You’ve checked your phone every 10 minutes since you got here and I can always read the trouble behind your eyes. Now, tell me about her.” He sighed, hating that he could never hide anything from his aunt.

“It’s one of my clients, I think I’m falling for her.” Ramonda chuckled softly to herself as she studied Erik. She could tell that the topic was a difficult one for him, noting the way he tugged nervously at a lone dreadlock that hung loosely in his face.

“Didn’t you say that you’d never get involved with one of your patients because it’s messy and unprofessional? What changed your mind?”

“I don't know Auntie. There’s something different about this girl. She intrigues me on a level that no other woman has before. She’s witty, and the culmination of her different personalities create a very interesting and sharp young lady," he smiled recounting the times her mouth had been quicker than he could anticipate.

"The man is asked to explain his attraction and he talks about multiple personalities," Shuri tsks making her presence known.

“Obviously I am needed! N'Jadaka!" Her hand clapped hard onto his back as she stood between him and the queen gazing out into the garden ahead.

"Figure out if she is an experiment, a patient, or a lover, but don’t use her to fill your emotional gaps. You’re a jerk if you do,” Shuri scolded before heading back towards her laboratory. "Thank me later," she called as she disappeared from sight. Erik stared after her for a beat before turning back to his aunt to squeezed his hand once more.

“She may be young, but she is wise beyond her years and she knows what she’s talking about. I can give you all of the advice in the world, but at the end of the day, it’s your decision to make. Lord knows we don’t want another Lynda situation,” the Queen concluded as she stood.

She stepped to the side and followed Shuri's path to the exit leaving Erik to gaze solemnly out over the garden and into the grand horizon. He thought back to his relationship with Lynda and how it ended, concluding with himself that O’Shea definitely wasn’t a Lynda. She was an enigma, but a goddess in her own right. She deserved someone that could give her his whole heart and love her as hard as he knew she loved. She deserved to be catered to and spoiled, but also disciplined whenever she stepped out of line; she was a submissive after all. She deserved a lover and a provider and he wasn’t sure that he could be all of those things for her, but he was more than willing to try.

“Dammit. I think I’m in love.” He whipped out his phone and called Skylar, remembering some things he forgot to tell her before he left.

“Wassup lover boy? Miss me already?”

“I always miss you, Nola,” he smirked, hearing her soft gasp at the nickname he hadn’t used since college.

“Real funny, Stevens. To what pleasure do I owe this phone call?”

“I know you don’t really do therapy, but I referred you to someone, Oya Ramirez. She suffers from the same symptoms as our bipolar beauty minus the other personalities and I figured she’d be a good experiment for you. She should be stopping by some time this week.”

“Oya Ramirez,” Skylar repeated, jotting the name down in her notebook for reference. “Got it. Anything else?”

“Nah, that’s it. I’ll be back in a few days. How my girl?”

“Oh, now she’s your girl?”

“You know what I mean. She doing ok?”

“She’s pretty good. We’ve got a yoga date tomorrow.”

“Yoga? She hates yoga.”

“There’s weed involved.”

“Ah,” he states with a nod. “I knew there had to be a catch, but yoga’s good. Good way to get her mind off things.”

“I’m well aware, Dr. Stevens. I’ll keep you posted on her progress.”

“Thanks, Nola. I owe you one.”

“You’re eternally indebted to me, Stevens. I thought we had this discussion already.”

“You right. I’ll make sure I bring you back something dope. Peace.” Erik ended the call and returned to his suite in the palace. It was a room he’d tried and failed to duplicate in his condo back in LA. The color scheme was black, white, and gold with a huge Alaskan king bed trimmed in black and gold in the center of the room. The walls were decorated with paintings of African and Egyptian royalty, including Queen Nefertiti and Anubis from Egyptian mythology. A large floor length mirror hung on the back of his bedroom door and his closet was its own ensuite. The floor was black and gold heated marble, the inspiration to the floor in his office and the ceiling changed to mimic the sky outside, no matter the time of day. He undressed and slipped under the covers, trying and failing to keep his mind from drifting to the current object of his affection as 6LACK‘s mellow voice filled the room.

I got women callin’ my phone like I owe them some’ // It’s kinda my fault // I guess I showed them some’ // No shit, I treat my dick just like a loaded gun // Point that shit away // These hoes gon’ blow what comes

He shook his head, smiling softly at the image of her little pout and the way her eyes lit up when he surprised her with the Pandora bracelet. He would give anything to see her smile the way she smiled that night again. The slight dip of the bed caused Erik to raise his head, only to drop it back against the pillow one he realized who the intruder was.

“I missed you too, Massika,” he murmured as the jaguar made her way up the bed and to her usual spot beside him. She purred softly, rubbing her nose against his face before settling down beside him. She had been his baby ever since he’d rescued her from poachers the last time he visited. Everywhere he went, Massika followed and he made a mental note to introduce her to O’Shea once they were official.

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

Today felt different. The sunlight crept through the large bow window, casting an ethereal glow throughout the bedroom. O’Shea woke roughly 20 minutes before her alarm, something that typically only happened when she was stressed. She stretched and said her morning affirmations before finally slipping out of bed, a small smile creeping across her face.

“Hey Alexa, play Something Chill.” As the device came to life, O’Shea retired to her bathroom and allowed Ari Lennox’s smooth voice to help her get ready for the day.

Pop my woo-hah in the sky // ‘Cause nobody here to judge my life // Leave the dishes in the sink // Do some cartwheels // “Cause my furniture ain’t came // Standard shipping thing // I just got a new apartment // I’m gon’ leave the floor wet // Walk around this bitch naked // And nobody can tell me shit

Since she was awake early, she decided to indulge in a relaxing bath with her newest bath bomb from Lush, called Royalty. The floral scent of the bomb permeated the bathroom before being replaced by a hint of vanilla and sandalwood. She watched as the water turned from a warm golden to soft red and green before slipping into the water. She loved how soft the soy milk powder left her skin, smoother than a baby’s ass fresh from its mother’s womb. After a 30-minute soak, she retired from her bath to get dressed, choosing to slick her curls up into a high puff while sporting a white, floral mini dress and a jean jacket. She felt good, a genuine smile crossed her face as she glanced down at the Pandora bracelet that rested in the center of her jewelry box for the past 3 days. She’d chosen not to wear it, fearing that she would be plagued with thoughts of Erik and be tempted to call or text him. Thanks to Skylar, the week had gone by a lot faster than she’d expected and he was due back home within the next few hours. A quick swipe of her Fenty gloss bomb and she was out the door, a newfound pep in her step.

The jingle of the shop’s bell pulled Shea from her sketchbook. She looked up to find a short, light-skinned woman coming over to the counter. Her hair was braided into cornrows and she wore a white cropped hoodie, blue jean shorts, and white Fila tennis shoes.

“Hello. My name is Oya Ramirez. I was sent here by Dr. Erik Stevens. He told me to ask for Skylar.” O’Shea regarded the young woman for a bit before walking to the back to get Sky.

“Oh Ms. Ramirez, Dr. Stevens told me you’d be stopping by. Follow me this way.” Oya complied, walking with Sky to the back of the store. O’Shea smirked, watching the way Skylar’s eyes followed every move Oya made until they had disappeared somewhere among the tall shelves. Once they were gone, O’Shea turned her attention back to her sketchbook. Since the dildo generator had been approved, Sky had tasked O’Shea with designing preset models that could be customized for potential clients that didn’t want to design their own tool from scratch. Just as she was getting back into her groove, the bell jingled again.

“Hello, welcome to —”

The cocoa skinned woman held up her hand to silence Shea.

“I’m Monica, where’s Skylar?” Almost on cue, Sky emerged from the back of the store with Oya, both giggling like schoolgirls. Once Sky’s eyes met Monica’s however, her smile faded.

“Baby!” Monica tried, attempting to throw her arms around Sky’s neck, but stopping once she saw the death glare Sky was giving.

“Oya, call me tomorrow with updates. O’Shea, take your break.”

“But I just got here,” O’Shea complained.

“I said take a break!” Sky repeated, raising her voice slightly to emphasize her point. Shea seemed to take the hint, leaving Sky and Monica alone in the shop.

TAGS: @vikkidc @thadelightfulone @sydneebleu @trevantesbrat @madamslayyy @chaneajoyyy @jozigrrl @thehomierobbstark @amethyst1993 @iamrheaspeaks @mareethequeen @forbeautyandlife @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @blowmymbackout @wakanda-inspired @nickidub718 @heyauntieeee @princessstevens @bartierbakarimobisson @xaviera108 @alexundefined @raysunshine78 @dameshaemonique @laketaj24 @youreadthatright @theogbadbitch @bugngiz @amirra88 @post-woke @im5ftbutmythroat66 @blackpinup22 @maya-leche @blessyd-bthyname @unholyxcumbucket @eclecticblkgirl @kissmyafropuff

TAGS DON’T WORK: @beaut1fulone-blog @chefjessypooh @queengidiva619 @love-me22 @honey-poooh @diva-Princess-on-fleek @heybriheyyy

#vanity writes #my shit #erik stevens #killmonger smut #daddy erik #killmonger fic #erik killmonger #erik killmonger x black oc #bde #carnal stimulation

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gaycrouton · 6 years ago

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The Newlywed Game

early msr // fluff // fake marriage but real yearning

This is dedicated to the always wonderful, always supportive Brandy (@dbebrandy) who was AMAZINGLY GENEROUS and helped me get some awesome merch when I couldn't. My grattitude is endless.

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

Part of her should have known that burying her face in the menu and crouching wouldn’t have gone unnoticed by Mulder. Nothing ever did. It was just her first instinctual move when she saw her ex walk into the bar. He looked good, smiling, a young girl hanging off his arm like a trophy. Maybe they were celebrating her high school graduation.

Fucking asshole.

She didn’t want to draw any attention to him, or herself, but she heard a gentle psst, and she peeked around her menu to see Mulder mimicking her. “What are we hiding from?” he whispered.

How Mulder of him, following her on simple blind faith. She was just as embarrassed at her frivolous desire to go unnoticed by her ex as she was irritated that it had to happen on one of the rare nights Mulder and her stayed so late they ended up getting dinner together. Quality time with him without mentionings of chupacabras or paranormal activities were few and far between, not only that, but last week had been so hard on him with the Roche case - and she felt like he was finally getting back to his old self. “It’s stupid,” she whispered back, but not moving to let her face be seen.

“Scull-ee,” he whined. “Tell me.”

She rolled her eyes before peering over again, “An old boyfriend of mine is here and I don’t want him to see me.”

“Did he do something to you?” Mulder asked, still confused by her out of character actions.

“No,” she corrected, raising her voice a little. “The break-up was just awkward and I don’t want him to-”

“Dana Scully, as I live and breathe,” she heard a familiar tenor proclaim in faux enthusiasm.

With a sigh, she let the menu fall and she was met with the sight of Paul Staehle standing in front of her with a boastful smile and a protective-puppy Mulder glaring across from her. “Hi, Paul,” she sighed, putting the menu down. “How are you?”

“I’m fantastic. I’m here with my girlfriend,” he boasted. “What about you, Dana? Is this a colleague?” He was clearly teasing her and she simply drew in a breath to conceal her reaction.

“Y-”

“No,” Mulder interrupted, drawing both the parties attentions to him. He smiled the most radiant smile she’d ever seen on his face as he reached across the table and grabbed her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “I’m her husband.”

She felt her eyes widen involuntarily as a waiter walked passed and filled their cups, oblivious to the tension. “Married? Really? Since when?” Paul asked.

“Six months ago,” Mulder answered, his voice barely concealing his happiness. He was such a good actor it was startling. “But we’ve been together for a little over four years now.”

“Where’s your ring?” Paul asked accusatory, trying to catch them in a lie.

“In Dana’s line of work, it’s dangerous to wear it. She keeps it close to her, but it’s personal,” Mulder informed seriously, so convincing she could even believe it. She was still reeling from hearing her name and those words come out of his mouth when she heard Paul’s disbelieving grunt.

“Huh, well Dana. I never thought I’d see you like this. You were always so...frigid. I’m glad to see you’ve chilled out,” he smiled, as if that was actually a compliment.

“You should probably get back to your date,” she responded evenly.

They both watched him leave and Scully turned to Mulder with a raised eyebrow. “Married?” she repeated.

He shrugged his shoulders like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar, “You looked upset, so I wanted to help.” He noticed he was still grabbing her hand and shyly let go, with a little laugh. “So, why was the breakup awkward?” he asked.

“Because I told him I realized I was a lesbian,”she deadpanned honestly.

A look of embarrassed shock passed over his face and he incredulously asked, “Y-you what?”

She smiled at his expression before explaining, “I know it was awful of me, you should never use someone else's sexual identity like that, but he was so weird.”

“Weird’s not your thing?” he asked, sounding exaggeratedly disappointed, but she could tell the disappointment was real.

“I like my weird on the spooky side, not the borderline stalker type,” she laughed, taking a sip of water to avoid his eyes while he digested that.

“So you told him you were a lesbian?”

She blushed lightly at her youthful antics, “Well,” she chuckled in embarrassment, brushing her hair behind her ear. “In my defense, I was in high school, so blame it on childish foolishness. I wasn’t receptive to his advances and when I told him I just wanted to focus on my schoolwork he fetishized it.”

“Smart is sexy,” he mimicked.

She exhaled a small laugh, “Not like that, more like the sexy school girl fetish.”

“Oh,” he said, his eyebrows shooting up. “How did the lesbian route possibly stop that from happening?”

“Oh, I’m sure he thought about it a lot with his hand, but he left me alone,” she chuckled. “And - nevermind,” she laughed, shaking her head.

“What?” he asked, fully curious.

“I asked one of my friends to pretend to be my girlfriend, so anytime he came around, she’d be all over me,” she explained, blushing.

“Scully, I don’t mean to sound like a caveman, or objectify women of that community, but how did that possibly stop him from following you?”

She smiled at his honesty. “Because she could have gotten in a fight with Hulk Hogan and come out without a scratch.”

They both started laughing when the waiter from earlier came back over, but instead of re-filling, he gave them a look that could rival a car salesman. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but did I hear you guys say you were married?”

“N-” she started correcting.

“You sure did,” Mulder beamed, sending a teasing look to Scully.

“Oh thank god,” the young boy exhaled in relief, much to their confusion. He must’ve caught sight of their curious expressions when he explained, “We were hosting a Newlywed’s Game here tonight, but the couples didn’t show. There are people who came just for the event and we don’t know what to do, and I’m getting in trouble - and I really, really, really, really need you guys to say yes,” he rambled, wearing a sheen of sweat acting as an attestment to his anxiety.

“Yes to what?” Scully asked skeptically.

“Will you guys be the couple of the night and play?”

Scully laughed and gently responded, “No, no. I’m sorry.” She was surprised to see there were two disappointed faces looking back at her rather than just one.

“Come on,” he drew out, pouting his lip like a little kid in the hopes that if he endeared her, she’d agree. “It’d be fun.”

“Mulder,” she chastised, “You’ve never remembered my birthday for the past three I’ve had with you. I’m just sparing you embarrassment.”

“Scully, have you met me? When have I ever shied away from public ridicule?” he smiled. “Come on, let’s do it”

“No,” she stated plainly, looking at the menu while trying to ignore his attempts and the waiter’s desperation.

“The prize for the winning couple was a year’s worth of free pies, and since you would be the only couple, if you say yes it’s a guarantee,” the teenage boy offered.

“Scully, the pie. If not for me, do it for the sweet goodness,” Mulder pleaded.

She had to admit, as selfish as it was, she was kind of excited to hear Mulder try to answer personal questions about her. He was so absorbed sometimes that she was honestly curious how much he did know about her. That, and she simply couldn’t resist the puppy dog eyes he was giving her. “Fine,” she sighed relenting, snapping her menu shut and standing up.

She had to bite back a smile at the beaming grin that passed over Mulder’s face. Despite his relentlessness, he apparently hadn’t expected she’d conceed. However, her smile quickly disappeared as she followed the boy to the impromptu stage. All it consisted of was two barstools with dry erase boards, markers, and hand towels sitting on top - the finishing touch being a microphone standing proudly in between.

She made sure to send Mulder a few pointed glances as she settled into the chair, gathering the materials on her lap. The lights dimmed as the boy spoke into the microphone and it made it impossible to see how many people were actually out in the audience, or even, how many were actually paying attention. She didn’t know if that made her feel better or worse, but she didn’t spend much time worrying about it as she focused on the boy’s words. This was moving too fast and she was already regretting saying yes.

“Lucky for us, we were able to find a newlywed couple to step up and play for us all! So let’s allow them to introduce themselves.” He turned and gestured to Mulder.

He sat up in his chair and she got a little enjoyment seeing that, despite his previous confidence, he was just as uncomfortable being up here as she was. “Oh, uh, hello. My name’s Fox Mulder and this is my wife, Dana Sc-Mulder.”

She saw the way his lips twitched when he said wife and called her by his surname and she tried to stop herself from seeing what she wanted to see. “And how long have you been married?” he asked, turning to her.

“Uh, six months,” she stumbled, appreciative that their fumbling could be blamed on the newness of their relationship and not the compulsive lying it was.

“Congratulations! So, we’ve compiled some questions from the audience and a few of our staff and, customers, if you want to participate, write down your prediction on who will win and, if you’re right, your meal will be half off! Okay, so, for those that don’t know, we’ll simply be asking different types of questions and we want to see either who is right, or if they are able to agree. So, let’s begin,” he exclaimed, grabbing a folded piece of paper out of a bowl. “Where did you go on your first date?”

Scully pursed her lips in thought as Mulder started writing immediately. How was he writing like he already knew? It hadn’t even happened. She wasn’t sure if he was just making something up, or if he was writing where he would take her? She felt a blush creep across her cheeks when she wrote ‘Chinese takeout at his place’, as far as she was aware, that was the first thing they’d ever done off the clock together, so it probably counted.

“What did you put Mrs. Mulder?”

“Yeah, what’d you put Mrs. Mulder?” Mulder teased, enjoying this far too much in her opinion.

“Um,” she started, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. “Chinese at his place,” she murmured, turning her board around.

Mulder smiled sweetly at her and she instantly knew that wasn’t what he’d put and she felt exposed. Every part of her wanted to whisper that she hadn’t actually considered it a date. She just thought-

“Bellefleur, Oregon. A romantic walk through the rain,” Mulder laughed, with similar chagrin she’d been feeling. She smiled and giggled lightly at the fact he’d put their first case.

“Oh yeah,” she mused, pretending like she’d simply forgotten such a strange first date.

The announcer seemed confused, and she could hear the audience chattering amongst themselves, speculating how walking through the rain could be a date. “Um, hahaha,” the announcer awkwardly laughed, “Okay, uh so. Next question.”

This was going to be a long night.

Soooo, I have a few already, but I mean, you guys ARE THE AUDIENCE, so what pressing questions would you like to have answered? ;)

#gaycrouton #my fanfiction #x files fanfiction #msr fanfic #fluff #mulder and scully

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artificialqueens · 6 years ago

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From Under Liquid Glass (1)(Branjie)- Ortega

a/n: in the words of Malcolm Tucker, i’m on turbo! i’m sorry to disappoint u all and say that no, this is not part 3 to Your Move, although the good news is that a) re-reading it when i had to resubmit gave me all the feels and made me fall in love with the universe all over again and b) i finish work for 6 weeks so so soon, so i’ll soon have lots of time to get a part 3 constructed. yay! in the meantime, please enjoy this. as always…of course it’s a lesbian au. what else would u expect from me. it’s a completely self-indulgent almost-autobiographical thing that i began a while ago and i never submitted, so if people enjoy it then i’ll write some more. lots of love, bye!

p.s. the pin number line is stolen from a film. i think it’s called Employee of the Month. i watched it so long ago that i cannot remember.

p.p.s. i promise i’ll make my author’s notes short one day

Trigger Warning: lots of discussion around anxiety so avoid if u don’t want to face that

Summary: Brooke Lynn Hytes was always told she’d have it all. She was never told that “all” would include crippling anxiety. Signed off from work at 27, Brooke moves back to her childhood home and has to get her head around her fall from grace.

Vanessa “Vanjie” Mateo has no job, no degree, and -£32.65 to her name, but she prides herself on keeping a level head. That all changes when a certain high school crush moves back into town and back into her life.

***

“Brooke?”

Brooke’s eyes sharply darted up to her colleague, her friend, and the only person she could trust in this godforsaken hellscape of a workplace. She felt like a small, trapped animal.

Nina’s eyes were kind, but worried. “Should you even be here today?”

Brooke blinked one, twice, three times. In an effort to keep her breathing steady she took a big gulp of air, which was restricted somewhat by the pressure on her ribcage. Was she about to have a panic attack? No, she could reign it in. She wished she could stop crying, though, the tears falling in a steady stream from her eyes which hadn’t stopped since Nina had entered the dance studio and asked her how she was. It wasn’t a secret that Brooke was having a tough time of it at work- the pressure of a chaotic management to get as many children as possible into the most prestigious dance schools in the country was tearing her mental health apart, but she’d always been able to cope with tough things, been able to push on and get through it. Although now, it was looking increasingly difficult.

Remembering Nina’s question, Brooke looked up at her. She tried to push a smile onto her mouth as she shook her head, more tears rolling down her cheeks in the process. Brooke almost wanted to laugh. She must have looked horrifying.

“Oh, baby. It’s okay. I think you just need some time away,” Nina sighed, putting a comforting hand on Brooke’s arm and letting it rest there. Brooke’s heart broke when she realised that Nina’s own eyes were tearful. “God, this is all my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you how you were, it’s just made things worse-”

“Nina, the wind blows and I cry,” Brooke deadpanned, rolling her eyes at herself and causing her friend to laugh. She took a deep breath. “But no. Yeah. I…can’t be here just now.”

Nina nodded. “Do you want me to go and tell Michelle?”

Brooke exhaled loudly. She didn’t want to have to actively seek out her head of department in the state she was currently in. She thought about it for roughly three seconds, but in that time about fifty thoughts managed to run through her head like the end credits of a film played at double speed. “Yes please.”

Nina said some other vaguely comforting things. Brooke couldn’t process them. Her mind was replaying the scene from only four days ago over and over in her head- she had been at the doctor’s, sitting all scrunched up in the chair in front of her.

“I would really like to sign you off, because it’s your work that’s causing you stress. But if you’d rather give it a couple of weeks to see how you feel and make another appointment then we can definitely do that.”

Brooke wanted to laugh at the memory. Even in the fucking doctor’s surgery, a shell of her former self, in a literal appointment she’d made to try and repair her fractured mind, she had still been too afraid to say the words- yes, do it, sign me off- as that would have meant it really was completely over. Instead, she was here at work, hands shaking, mouth bone dry, and she was still typing at her computer in an attempt to get her reports finished.

Eventually, Michelle appeared. They spoke, and Brooke still hadn’t been able to stop her tears falling. Michelle had been supportive if not sympathetic, and Brooke had apologised for causing them all inconvenience once, twice, three times. Eventually, Michelle told her to phone her doctor and go home, and took her into her office to make the necessary calls. Brooke had taken some deep, shuddery breaths that felt as if she was trapped under ice.

She hit call seven consecutive times before there was any answer.

“Hey, Mum. Um. Can you come and pick me up from work?”

***

It was sort of entirely ridiculous, the fact that Brooke had reached the age of twenty seven and had never learnt to drive, but the moment that she saw her Mum’s white, midge-splattered family car roll up outside reception she had never been so glad of having not had a license. It had taken roughly 45 minutes for her to reach the school that Brooke taught in, and on the drive back to her house Brooke listened to her chatting away about how she’d had to take her cat to the vet’s for his injections that morning so she’d had to drop him off back home before she could come for Brooke. Brooke had been worried about phoning her Mum, and she knew she worried about her, but she reasoned that she was probably just glad Brooke was coming to be at home with her.

Brooke had thought about going back to her own flat and resting up there, but she knew all she had waiting for her there were some slightly withered potted plants. She needed to spend at least a day back home with her parents, be treated as if she was back in high school all over again. As pathetic as it sounded, she just needed looked after.

As the cars sped by on the motorway, Brooke looked at her reflection in the wing mirror, running her fingers through her hair and noticing her dark roots coming through in dismay. Brooke had always had a long, thick head of platinum hair, but various escapades in highlights and lowlights over the years had cause roots to begin to appear every so often. She’d always been organised enough to get it sorted before it ever got too bad, however as she looked at herself now she realised she must have slipped up. She noticed her Mum looking over at her from her position behind the wheel.

“I’ll treat you to a haircut while you’re off,” she said quietly, her tone cheerful and making Brooke’s heart hurt more. “And we can make a nice dinner tonight. How does fajitas sound?”

“If you’re nice to me I’ll cry,” Brooke said dryly, sighing deeply and sinking further down into her seat. She saw the sides of her Mum’s mouth jerk up quickly into a suppressed smile, the corners of her eyes crinkle and deepening her crows’ feet.

“I think there’s some bubble bath in the bathroom cupboard, and I’ve still got some of that Liz Earle face mask your Dad got me at Christmas. You can get a nice relax when we get home.”

“You are queen of serotonin,” Brooke gave a small smile, rubbing at her tired eyes.

It was hard feeling like she’d let people down. She’d forever been seen as a success in her family- the hard-working, quiet, well-behaved little girl, the head girl of her high school with straight As, a solo seal ballet dancer with an offer from Cambridge and eventually a First Class Honours degree in Education. A well-respected dance teacher at the last school she’d worked at, with staff who all loved her and children who respected her. The move to her current school should have been a great development opportunity- a private, fee-paying secondary school well-known for its excellence in the expressive arts. Instead all that had come with it was pressure, scrutiny, and absolutely zero support from any member of management. It was hard for Brooke to admit she was struggling, and it was even harder to accept that she’d lost her battle with work- she was going home. She wouldn’t be returning for weeks. She knew that several of the girls she taught had exams coming up in the near future, and her competition group had finals in a month. The thought of all of this made her stomach sink and her heart thud deeply, fight-or-flight impulse kicking in although instead of telling her to run away, it was telling her to run back. But she couldn’t of course- she was trapped in her Mum’s car rolling down the motorway back to the house she grew up in, back to the town she grew up in, and back to mundanity and quiet.

Eventually, Brooke arrived home. She shuffled, numb and dazed, through the doorway, being brought back to earth with a bump by her family pet Henry, still a little tired from his vaccines and rubbing against her legs. She tuned in and out as she listened to her Mum explain that she’d have to go back to work until the evening (despite being sixty-eight, her Mum insisted she would never be able to retire) so Brooke had to be in the house on her own for a while. She had looked worriedly at her as she broke the news, as if Brooke had been about to break down sobbing, but she was strangely comforted in the fact that it would just be her and the cat and her house full of memories. It would be like spending time with an old friend.

So once her Mum left for work, Brooke tried to push her own work out of her mind. She took a long, hot bath and then found some cosy sweatpants and a huge black hoodie in one of the closets in her old bedroom, mixed up with old clothes she’d brought back from uni before she’d started her first job. It was funny to be back in her little pink-painted microcosm that she’d spent so many years in, really where she first began her struggle with anxiety. Brooke frowned at herself as she thought. She shouldn’t use the word struggle- she should use the word relationship, or battle, or coping, but if the very fact that she was back living with her Mum after a complete work-related mental breakdown didn’t indicate a fucking struggle, then what did?

Brooke then knelt down on her old white carpet and opened her wardrobe, the bottom of which contained a bunch of sentimental items that she had never gotten round to throwing away- old programmes from dance shows, certificates from exams, photos, her old high school yearbook. Opening it, she found the photos from her leavers’ prom and her eyes fell on one of her and her friends all standing lined up on Brooke’s staircase. She smiled as she remembered her girlfriends- Plastique, who she hadn’t spoken to in months, now working as an air hostess for Emirates. Yvie, who had moved to New York and was touring with some acrobatics company- she exchanged the odd half-arsed catchup Facebook messenger message with her now and again. Scarlet, who she’d fallen out with before uni over some childish thing- she couldn’t remember what, but they hadn’t spoken since. Bianca, who only lived then next town over but could never make their schedules match up for a coffee, so busy was she with her job at a fashion editorial. Detox, who she’d fallen out of contact with. It was so fucking sad. Everybody else seemed to have a little group of school friends they still spoke to, at least if she went by what instagram showed. Looking at the photo, Brooke felt a million miles away from the girl with her hair swept up in a bun wearing a blue satin ballgown, and she couldn’t quite believe it had once been her.

Pushing the yearbook to one side, she finally found what she was looking for- some mindfulness colouring-in book her Mum had once bought her for Christmas full of different patterns. At the time, Brooke had wanted to make some comment about how it was cheaper than therapy, and the memory made her snort an ironic laugh. She sat gently on her old bed, all freshly made up with white sheets and pillowslips although still with its old mattress that sagged in the middle. She coloured for an hour or so, and then decided to listen to some relaxation tape she’d found through an anti-anxiety app she’d once downloaded in a vain attempt at self-care. It was hard to switch off. Every time she finally felt as if her mind was clear, some thought from work would hit her out of nowhere with a start, like a car crashing into her. So it was a welcome relief when she eventually drifted off into a nap, her mind finally at peace from its self-inflicted torture.

Brooke woke to find it was still light outside, her Mum perched gently on the edge of the bed and her eyes crinkled up in a smile.

“Good sleep?” she asked, her voice quiet. Brooke stretched in response. “I need to take a walk to the shop to grab stuff to make fajitas. You want to come with me?”

Every fibre of Brooke’s being wanted to stay curled up in the bed, but she found herself saying yes.

That was how twenty minutes later she found herself staring with glazed eyes at a crate full of red onions, as her Mum tried to find the one that was the least bashed. Brooke took a deep breath and tried not to grow irritated with her as she watched her pick up and put down onion after onion.

“Mum, you’re not quality control. Just get one in there,” she said weakly, reaching over herself and putting one in the shopping basket her Mum had slung over her arm. As they traipsed the aisles, Brooke found her heart hammering in her chest as she realised- here she was in her home town, wearing black baggy sweatpants and a black shapeless hoodie, Birkenstocks on her feet, with black roots poking out through her hair. She was a complete sight, but her saving grace was that most of the people she’d known from school had moved out, and that it was a relatively big town. She wasn’t really likely to bump into anyone she knew. At least, that’s what the logical part of her brain told her. The part captained by anxiety had convinced herself that the supermarket was a front and that the aisles were all about to peel away to reveal her standing on stage as part of Ant and Dec’s Saturday Night Takeaway in front of an audience of millions.

Eventually, they had completed their circuit of the shop and Brooke was helping load everything onto the conveyor belt when her Mum suddenly gave a small cry. “Shit! I need cat food.”

“I’ll get it,” Brooke said, trying her best not to sound downtrodden as she strode slowly away from the checkout desks. On the rare occasions she’d spoken today she’d either been on the brink of tears or she’d given her best impression of Eeyore on beta blockers, and it was a million miles away from the voice she knew she was able to speak with. It frustrated her.

Reaching the pet food aisle a couple of metres away, she marvelled at the astronomical price of ground up pieces of animals that humans didn’t want in sauce, picked up four little gold foil trays and was about to turn around when the unthinkable happened.

She heard her name.

At least, she thought she had. It sounded as if it was being said in a girls’ voice, perhaps her age or slightly younger. Either way, that wasn’t good news. Frozen in place, she decided to turn back to the tills when the voice stopped her again. This time, it was clearer, distinctive, and it hit her like a ton of bricks.

“Brooke Lynn?”

Brooke slowly turned around, trying to mask the confusion on her face when she locked eyes with the girl who had spoken her name. She was small, with tanned caramel skin, dark hair and perfect makeup, and Brooke didn’t recognise her at all. What she did recognise, however, was the voice.

The girl took a couple more steps towards her, putting down her bags full of stuff from other shops and giving an awkward wave. “Hey! It is Brooke Lynn, right? Shit, sorry, you just really look like a girl I knew in high school-”

“No, yeah, it’s me…” Brooke began, then trailed off, embarrassed because she looked exactly like someone that was failing at life and because she still had no idea who the fuck this girl was. “Um sorry, this is embarrassing, I actually don’t remember you.”

To her credit, the girl gave a blush and a loud laugh. “Aw no, shit, no, of course you don’t. I mean, why would you, right? I’m Vanjie, remember? We went to the same high school? When you were in sixth form you helped out with the Year 7 dance club? I went to that.”

A brief flash of memory shattered through Brooke’s already very crowded mind- Vanessa Mateo, a small, slightly chubby girl with braces and a big attitude, who answered her dance teacher, her friends and Brooke back, who had a lot of potential and a fiery temper. Brooke did remember her. She was very different to the girl in front of her just now.

“Oh, God, yeah, no, I remember you,” Brooke stammered out, trying and failing to cover up her disbelief. “No, yeah, shit. I didn’t recognise you at all, you look so different!”

“How so?” Vanessa raised an eyebrow, as if she was daring Brooke to start digging.

“Well, um, obviously everyone looks so different back in high school. You got the braces off, obviously. And you lost weight, right? You look so good. Not that you were needing to lose weight, I mean you were what, fourteen? And there’s nothing wrong with being bigger, obviously. I’m not saying you were big at any point, just-”

“Jesus, are you havin’ a stroke?” Vanessa suddenly let out a peal of laughter, her eyes at once mocking but kind. It was a funny gaze to be regarded under, but not an altogether unpleasant one. Brooke found herself letting out the first genuine laugh she’d omitted in days. “Girl, it’s fine. I was ugly. We all were in high school. Except you. You always looked fine.”

Brooke gave a humourless laugh, gesturing down at her clothes. “‘Looked’ being the operative word. I usually don’t go out like this, honestly.”

Vanessa gave her a once-over with her eyes and shrugged. “You don’t look so bad. Could wear a bin bag and your face’d still look the same.”

Brooke felt a sting of blush prick at her cheeks, not used to being flattered. Vanessa frowned, clearly sensing Brooke’s embarrassment and quickly changing the subject.

“So what brings you back here? I know you didn’t stay when you left high school. What’re you up to now?”

“Oh, uh,” Brooke felt her heart tightening. It would be so easy to lie- it’s not like she’d ever see this girl again after their chance meeting in a supermarket cat food aisle- but if she was being honest, Brooke didn’t even have the energy to come up with a simple lie. So she felt herself jumping straight into deep, freezing cold conversational waters, and her heart froze up as she spoke. “I’m just back home for a visit. I actually got signed off work today. So. Yeah. I was a dance teacher at one of the private schools through in the city. I mean, I guess I still am, I’ll have to go back at some point. But, yeah. That’s where I’ve ended up. I bet that’s the glamorous life you would have expected the head girl to end up living when you were sat in assembly all those years ago.”

Vanessa gave a sympathetic smile. “Damn, that sucks. I’m sorry. Still, it’s good you’re taking time out and being open about it and stuff.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t go around telling every fucker all my problems. You just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Here’s all my emotional baggage. Hope you enjoy it.”

Vanessa’s face lit up as she laughed again, and Brooke felt something in her heart warm up. Maybe it was because Vanessa’s reaction had been so blissfully unremarkable, as if Brooke had told her it was going to rain tomorrow. Maybe it was the way they were talking like old friends, despite the fact that Brooke’s only claim to knowing this girl was through teaching at a dance club she went to twice a week ten years ago. Brooke often forgot, however, that she’d always been under the spotlight being head girl in sixth form. The year sevens, straight out of primary school, had all looked up to her, and that was exactly the year group Vanessa had been in. It felt weird seeing her as an adult, quickly working out in her head that she had to be twenty-something by now.

“So, uh. What did you end up doing yourself? Do you still dance?”

“Dance? God, no, I can barely even walk in a straight line these days. Uh, no, I do nothing. I’m professionally unemployed at the minute,” Vanessa’s foghorn voice grew quieter, rubbing her neck as she spoke. “I apply for jobs, they reject me because I have no experience and no A Levels, the cycle begins again. It’s a great job. I’m lovin’ life.”

Brooke smiled at her and shook her head. “Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. Job hunting is a full-time job in itself, you need to be kind to yourself about it.”

Vanessa smiled shyly as Brooke spoke, which made a little bubble inside Brooke pop. She’d so rarely seen Vanessa smile before, since most things she’d said to her in dance club had been met with a defiant scowl or a frown. She looked nice when she smiled.

Brooke was suddenly pulled out of her thoughts by her Mum shouting over from the till. “Brooke! What’s my pin number?”

“5280, Mum. Now we’ve gotta change it again,” Brooke shouted back, delighting as she turned back round and saw Vanessa laughing at the exchange. Brooke realised she was still holding the cat food. “Well, I’d better go before my Mum gets frauded. But it was nice seeing you, Vanjie.”

“You too, Brooke Lynn. Take care, okay? Hey,” she said suddenly, reaching into her shopping bag and holding out a bouquet of pink lilies. "Here. I bought them to brighten my flat up, but I think you need ‘em more than me.”

Brooke blushed in spite of herself, and she watched as Vanessa smiled shyly back at her. “Oh. Thank you, that’s sweet.”

Brooke could’ve sworn Vanessa blushed back at her as she shrugged. “Well. I’ll maybe see you around.”

“Yeah, see you,” Brooke stuttered out, as Vanessa picked up her shopping bags and passed by her with a little wave. Dazed and confused, almost as if she’d felt something land on her but couldn’t feel what it was, she made her way back to her Mum and handed over the cat food to the girl at the till wordlessly. Her Mum raised an eyebrow.

“Ooh, who was that? A gorgeous girl giving you flowers?”

Brooke rolled her eyes. “Mum that’s not…no. It was a girl from high school, we were just catching up.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I know I always give flowers to whoever I catch up with from high school,” her Mum said dryly, avoiding Brooke’s eyes as she packed up her bags. “Come on, then. These fajitas won’t cook themselves!”

Brooke nodded and absent-mindedly sniffed the flowers in her arms, a smile forming on her face that she wasn’t aware of until it was firmly planted there.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #lesbian au #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #from under liquid glass #ortega #tw anxiety

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gleekto · 6 years ago

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All In the Past 9/13

Prompt: You were the bane of my existence in high school but now we’re going to college together AU

Cheerio!Kurt/ Jock-Football!Blaine

Summary: Kurt Hummel is tolerating his senior year of high school. He’s head cheerio, which affords him some protection from the hamhock bullies who ruined his designer knock offs in his first few years. He can manage his one last year with that new charming transfer student, Blaine Anderson. swooping into his school, rising to popularity, and completely ignoring him. Next year he’ll be free from a world where everyone is afraid of the gay kid.

He just didn’t expect Blaine Anderson to swoop into his college world too.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Part 9 - Lecture

Kurt: You really need to stop pairing me with Blaine.

Kurt texts Matt as he makes his way down to the LBGT Centre for his night shift. He’s wearing his light blue tight skinny jeans that Santana once told him look painted on. She also told him that he must know he has a great ass to dress like that. He’d never admit it to her but he sort of does. At least in these jeans. And they do look great with his touch too small McQueen skull t-shirt and his purple combat boots. He may have been admiring himself in the mirror before he left his room. Whatever. He always has flare.

Matt: Who knows - maybe there’s a long lost friendship waiting to happen? Can’t let old baggage get in the way ;)

Winky emoji. God, he’s so annoying.

Kurt: Please spare me the lecture. Just remember that you’re responsible if you hear about a fist fight at the otherwise peaceful LGBT centre night shift.

Matt: It’s a risk I’m willing to take. ;)

Kurt clicks his phone shut on Matt’s second winky emoji as he walks into the office. Blaine is already there of course. What a keener. “Hi Blaine.”

“Hey Kurt,” Blaine turns to him, all smiles. “Nice jeans.”

“What?” Blaine nods at him and raises his eyebrows. “Oh, these? Thanks.” Blaine obviously has good taste. “How was your Lacrosse tryout?” Smooth change of topic. “Rachel told me that’s why you weren’t at Glee club.”

“Oh. Oh yeah. It was good,” Blaine looks like he’s deciding whether to say something. “I made the team.”

“Of course you did,” Kurt smirks but he knows it doesn’t have the bite it did a week ago.

Blaine rolls his eyes and plops down beside Kurt on the couch. “I do actually try, you know? I just go after what I want.”

“I noticed.” Cocky bastard. “Football starting line up, Glee club solos?”

“Glee club solos,” Blaine nods. At least he admits it.

There’s a quiet moment and Kurt feels the potential for an awkward two hour night shift, Matt’s fantasies of long lost friendship firmly dashed. Kurt is trying to figure out whether to take out his homework or to try to make small talk, when, blessedly, they actually get a knock on the office door. A real person who is quietly tapping. They both jump up, eager. And relieved. “You’re our first customer!” Kurt says happily.

Jenny, the customer’s name, is from small town Wyoming. She was waiting for a free night and the courage to come down to the centre to introduce herself. She was a cheerleader in high school, like Kurt, and has known she’s a lesbian since junior year when she realized she had a crush on the junior cheer captain. Who also happened to be her boyfriend’s sister. Blaine tells her that he also had a ‘girlfriend’, with air quotes. They talk about living in a small place with even smaller minds, about wanting to get out and get to a bigger city. About the thrill of getting into NYU, and about finally feeling ordinary in New York.

“But now that I’m here, do you know what I really want?” Kurt and Blaine look at her, enthusiastic active listening of course. “To meet a girl.” Kurt lets out a deep breath and steals a quick glance at Blaine before nodding.

“I think most gay kids from small town wherever can relate to that. High school isn’t exactly the easiest place to find someone,” Blaine says wistfully and Kurt feels the cognitive dissonance well up inside him again. He knew Kurt was gay. Rachel says he thought he was hot. Kurt was right there - if not for romance then for something - friendship, support? But nothing.

“Well, let me get you some information to help with that very thing,” Kurt shifts to business mode and moves to the desk to look at the schedule with her. He gives her the details for the queer women’s group meetings, the centre’s wine and cheese meet and greet, as well as the upcoming dance, before sending her off with pamphlets on how to get more involved. And also on safer sex.

She takes the pamphlet from him and laughs. “A girl can dream, right?”

Blaine helps her gather her things in a folder as she zips her jacket. “So are you guys like a couple, or something?”

What? Kurt sees Blaine blink back in surprise too. “No. No, I mean-”

“No, not at all,” Kurt affirms. “We’re-”

“We’re just-”

“Colleagues,” Kurt says. “We work together. Here,” He bites his lip awkwardly.

“Ok, no worries,” Jenny shrugs turning to leave. “I don’t know why I thought something. Never mind. Have a good night.”

The door clicks shut and Blaine starts in right away. “I have no idea why she thought-”

“No, I mean, me neither. Just because we’re both gay, doesn’t mean-”

“She obviously knows that but maybe-” Blaine’s voice trails off. “Anyways, it’s not a big deal.”

“No,” Kurt agrees. “It’s not.”

It’s quiet again and Kurt moves from the desk to sit back down on the couch just to have something to do to fill the quiet. The fifteen minutes until the end of their shift may turn out to be painful. Blaine is tapping his foot. It’s irritating.

“Rachel told me she saw you at Glee club,” Blaine starts.

Kurt looks at him, confused. “Yeah, I told you I saw her, remember? Lacrosse tryout?”

“Of course, yeah,” Blaine blushes. “I mean,” Blaine takes a deep breath and Kurt starts to get nervous from the awkwardness. “Rachel told me what she said.”

“Didn’t we already establish-”

“I mean,” Blaine huffs. “She told you why I didn’t talk to you last year.”

“Ignored me,” Kurt corrects.

Blaine rolls his eyes, “Ignored you, yes. Because-” Blaine stops and looks down. Kurt can feel his cheeks flare red. Why is he doing this now? “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

Kurt can feel his hands start to get clammy. That is so unattractive. What is happening here? “Was it true?”

“What?” Blaine says and now Kurt is exasperated. “That you ignored me all year because you thought I was-” Kurt stops this time.

“Hot,” Blaine looks at Kurt directly. “Yeah.”

Kurt shakes his head over and over again, cheeks burning. “Why on earth-”

Blaine shrugs. “Temptation,” He says like it’s obvious. “I didn’t want to come out - my parents didn’t want me to come out,” He adds. “And I sure didn’t expect to be constantly taunted with the only out gay guy in the school on the cheerleading team and looking like-” Blaine stops again and Kurt looks at him, still shaking his head in disbelief. “You look. And yeah,” Blaine answers casually as if he’d asked, “I still think so.”

Kurt shivers despite himself. There is a lot of information in those four words. And expectation. Too much. He’s both hot and cold and calm and excited and he feels energy coursing in every direction from his fingertips to his toes. “Can I be really honest with you?” Kurt is on autopilot. “I don’t really have any idea what to do right now.”

Blaine laughs. Why is he so cool about this? That cocky confidence behind his warm hazel eyes, and gelled back perfect hair with his all gayed-up sweater vests and bow ties. He’s wearing mustard jeans, for God’s sake. And they look good. “We can let it marinate, then,” Blaine says and touches him lightly on the knee. Kurt looks down at Blaine’s hand, staying there a second too long. He wants to touch back, but he won’t.

“Definitely marinating,” Kurt agrees as he stands up quickly, ready to leave the now very stuffy room.

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” Blaine asks, which Kurt thinks is bold but vulnerable. Blaine is trying.

And though Kurt absolutely does not say it, Blaine is also hot.

“Okay,” Kurt agrees. “Okay.”

#gleekto writes #all in the past #...#enjoy

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themyskira · 6 years ago

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The Life of Captain Marvel - issue #1

So here we are. Issue #1 of The Life of Captain Marvel, the miniseries that was touted as a bold new origin story that would change everything we thought we knew about Carol Danvers.

And it starts strong by exploiting family violence, trauma, mental illness and traumatic brain injury for melodramatic effect, with no intention of dealing with any of these complex themes in any depth or sensitivity.

For all that, infuriatingly little actually happens in this first issue. No exaggeration, the issue actually includes a stretch of nine months wherein Carol essentially does nothing except mope and grow her hair out. The dang plot doesn’t even arrive until the final seven pages.

Content warning: This issue begins with a flashback to Joe Danvers verbally abusing and hitting his kids. I haven’t included any images, but I talk at some length about Margaret Stohl’s abysmal handling of themes of abuse and family violence. Just a heads up.

The story opens on a flashback to an idyllic childhood holiday in Harpswell, Maine. There’s a montage of Carol and her brothers flying kites, wrestling each other, splashing in the water and stuffing their faces with candy, while adult Carol muses that she used to think her family was perfect.

Then the flashback takes a turn. One of Carol’s brothers rips the kite from her hand, tearing it. Their father, Joe, descends on the boys in a rage and begins verbally abusing and physically beating them as Carol looks on, because — surprise! — it’s Traumatic Past Retcon time!

Goodbye Joe Danvers, well-meaning but hard-headed dad who’s never understood his daughter and whose approval always seems to be out of reach. Hello Joe Danvers v. 2.0, scary unpredictable drunk who hit his kids and terrorised his entire family. Aren’t comics fun?

The flashbacks are interspersed with shots of Carol in the present day, where she’s battling supervillains Tanalth and Moonstone. As the flashback progresses, present-day Carol lashes out violently, alarming friends and foes alike.

“That’s why fighting’s easier than remembering. I tell myself that if I’m strong enough… I’ll beat the memories down so hard they’ll never come back.”

What’s strange to me about this page is the way it deliberately draws a parallel between Joe, snarling and raising his fist to strike his powerless young children, and Carol, snarling and raising her fist to strike down a powerful villain. By implication, it places Carol in the role of abuser, indicating an intergenerational cycle of violence.

Which of course is never explored or discussed beyond this, because Stohl doesn’t want to actually talk about the lasting impacts and terrible toll of family violence, she just wants to exploit it for THE DRAMAS.

As Joe whales on his sons, kid!Carol tries to run to their defence, only to be held back by mother Marie, who tells her, “You’ll just make it worse. Now’s not the time.”

We will be told numerous times over the course of this book what an incredible, loving mother Marie Danvers is, and how she’s prepared to sacrifice everything for Carol. Her actions, though? Her actions consistently portray a woman whose number one interest is in not creating more work or emotional angst for herself, even when it means hanging Carol out to dry.

This is not to say that Marie isn’t a victim as well in this scenario: though she never fears for her life or safety (she could pummel Joe into the ground without breaking a sweat), it could well be that constant gaslighting and emotional abuse have left her feeling unable to oppose her husband in anything.

It could well be, but that is nuance that Stohl is not interested in exploring, and all we get throughout this miniseries is Marie making excuses for Joe’s abusive behaviour and prioritising her own comfort over Carol’s emotional wellbeing and safety.

So anyway, flashback!Marie says “Now’s not the time”, and in the present day Carol shrieks “WHEN - IS - THE TIME?!” while damn near beating Moonstone into a pulp.

The other Avengers are disturbed by this.

Iron Man: Hey, Carol? Could you maybe leave a little something on the plate for… you know… bad guy jail? Black Panther: Would you call that rage… disproportionate?

hellooooo unfortunate paternalistic implications. A female superhero has a hysterical outburst on the battlefield, while her almost exclusively male colleagues look on in bewilderment. (‘This is why women can’t be superheroes, they’re too emotional!!!’)

Cap and T’Challa have to physically pull Carol off Moonstone, as Carol begins to hyperventilate.

Adding to our list of things that this series has zero interest in exploring:

What it’s like to experience a panic attack or traumatic flashback

What it’s like to live with an anxiety disorder

What it’s like to live with trauma

The Carol of this story is not a woman living with trauma and mental illness, she is a woman who swoons hysterically whenever the narrative starts drag a bit. Her panic attacks are purely a plot device used to ratchet up the dramatic tension at convenient moments, and it’s some of the most insensitive handling of mental illness I’ve seen in comics for a while.

Next comes the obligatory scene of Carol getting a full medical in Tony’s lab, only for Tony to throw his hands up and declare, ‘welp, there’s nothing physically wrong with you, are you sure there’s not something else going on????’. Because apparently neither Tony — who has personal experience with trauma — nor Steve — who lived through a FUCKING WAR — know PTSD when it’s punching them (well, Tanalth and Moonstone) in the face.

I mean REALLY.

Tony: Look, the breathing thing is probably some kinda nervous tic.

hi, hello, person with an anxiety disorder here, please do not tell somebody having a full-blown panic attack that it’s just a ‘nervous tic’, you absolute insensitive fuckstick.

Carol: [sigh] It’s… Father’s Day. Not my favourite day of the year, you know?

waitwaitwait, so CAROL recognised that she’d triggered and experienced a traumatic flashback, but for some reason decided to play dumb about it until she’d after she’d had a pointless medical examination??

Tony tells Carol she needs to get herself sorted out or else somebody is going to get hurt, so she goes to visit her mother and younger brother Joe Junior at the family’s holiday home in Maine.

Carol flies into town past a sign that reads, “Harpswell Sound / Summer Home of Captain Marvel” Carol: [narration] Oh, brother.

‘Oh, brother’ is right. I guess at least it isn’t as embarrassing as the time Stohl introduced a D-grade Captain Marvel TV series.

“Sugar’s Donuts / Official Donut of Captain Marvel”

hoookay yep that’s a bit much now.

At the donut shop, Carol runs into childhood friend Louis Lee, who’s grown into a Designated Love Interest with an obnoxious phonetically-spelled accent

“Better keep that to yah self, Ms. Danvers. Wouldn’t wantitah get out that yah cheatin’ on us…”

I despise him already.

Carol goes up to the house and hangs out with her mother and brother. Over dinner, Marie and JJ ask her why she’s dropped by so suddenly. Carol evades and JJ blows up at her because apparently he’s been holding in some anger about how he feels she abandoned the family and didn’t even bother to come home when their dad was terminally ill. (Which, hey, here’s another potentially rich thread to explore — PITY IT NEVER COMES UP BETWEEN THEM EVER AGAIN.)

Carol shoots back that he knows full well she was avoiding home because of their abusive father, only to be interrupted by the door slamming as their mother walks out.

…eeeeeexcept apparently that was an art mistake, because the very next page is Carol chasing after her brother, the one who actually stormed out. She finds him at their father’s grave, drinking booze.

He offers his recovering alcoholic sister the bottle, and when she lightly turns it down he gripes that she’d always thought she was better than everybody else and she should feel free to piss off any time now. Then he gets into his car and Carol lets him drive home drunk like the responsible person she is.

“Part of me knew I should go after Joe Jr. I mean, nobody in my family was any good with a bottle.”

WHAT IN THE HELL, CAROL.

But nah, see, she has more important things to do, like scream at her dead father and desecrate his headstone, because that’s sure not going to upset her family further, nope.

Her little tantrum is interrupted by the sound of tyres screeching and a car plunging off a bridge because YOU FUCKING MORON you stood there and watched your brother stagger drunk into his car and made the conscious decision that ‘nah, I’m gonna let this one play out’.

and ohohohohoho how ~poetic~! He crashed right through the ‘Summer Home of Captain Marvel’

god I hate everything in this comic.

JJ is rushed to hospital, where he is diagnosed with a traumatic brain injury, leaving him in a catatonic state.

And of course, Stohl’s Carol makes it all about her-fucking-self.

“In an instant, everything changes. You ruin someone’s life… it ruins yours right back. You’d give everything to have gone after him… and acted like the hero you’re supposed to be.”

Yes, JJ is in a coma with a traumatic brain injury, but let’s talk about how his near-fatal car accident ruined Carol’s life.

Anyway— NINE MONTHS LATER.

No, really.

We just skip over nine months.

Wherein apparently Carol has been doing nothing but poor-me-ing over her brother’s hospital bed.

Like.

She gave up her entire life and career.

Stopped saving the world.

Stopped interacting with everybody.

Just sat by JJ’s hospital bed looking melancholy and growing her hair out so that comic bros would stop complaining that she looked like a lesbian.

Tony tries texting her and she turns off her phone. So he appears beside her in an explosion of pixels.

which-- how?!?

There’s no visible technology at work here, nothing to indicate what’s projecting his image or enabling the two of them to communicate. Tony might as well be speaking to Carol via magic, for all we can tell.

Christ, it’s a superhero comic, it’s not like you have to work that hard to sell it to the reader. Two lines of dialogue: ‘What the actual hell, Tony?’ ‘Well, you wouldn’t return my calls, so I [insert technobabble here].’ That’s all you need. How lazy can you get?

Tony asks her to come back to the Avengers — we miss you, we need you, this isn’t good for you, etc. — and Carol’s like, ‘nah, I’m too busy wallowing in self-pity’.

And yes, like Carol’s PTSD and panic attacks, like the family violence, JJ’s brain injury exists solely here as a plot device. It’s not a disability he lives with or a trauma he survives, it’s a vehicle to bring melodrama to Carol’s story and a weakly-fabricated excuse for Carol to stay with the family and discover what she’s about to discover.

Because now it’s time to bring the still-catatonic JJ back home. And since the downstairs living room is more accessible than his upstairs bedroom, he’ll be taking the couch, where Carol has been crashing.

Yes, even though Carol has her own childhood bedroom in this house — we see it next issue — she has been couch-surfing for nine months. But now that somebody else has claimed her spot, she’s got to move into… JJ’s bedroom.

So she goes up the room and rather rudely starts going through her catatonic brother’s wardrobe and pulling his clothes out to make room for her own shit. Again, I cannot stress enough that she had her own bedroom in this house. She’s just… weirdly choosing to impose on everybody else.

In the wardrobe, Carol finds a box belonging to her dead father. The box contains a love letter, in Joe’s handwriting, addressed to a woman who is not his wife — along with what is obviously a piece of alien technology.

This is a comic with a goddamn identity crisis. It keeps tossing out plot hooks, only to abandon them pages later in favour of the next shiny idea.

It begins by announcing, ‘This is a story about Carol returning home and confronting her childhood trauma.’ Then it abruptly swerves: ‘wait, scratch that, this is a story about Carol struggling to hold her fractured family together after her brother is hurt in an accident she had the power to prevent’, and then, ‘hold up hold up what we meant to say was, this is a story about Carol discovering a hidden truth about her family and parentage’.

It’s like Stohl doesn’t know editing exists. Because spoiler alert: this story is not about either of those first two things. The first fifteen pages of this issue are a dead fucking weight. They do not need to be there, and in fact a lot of problems could have been solved by cutting them.

Carol decides to spend some time with her family because she’s working through some personal shit, and discovers a letter hinting that her late father was leading a double life. That’s it; that’s the story.

All these convoluted logistics around who gets the couch and who gets the bedroom? Not necessary. Again, Carol has a bedroom in this house. Since she’s not around much, it makes sense that Marie might be using it as a general storage space. So: Carol is staying in her old room and has to shift a few boxes to make space. In the process, her dad’s shoebox gets knocked loose from whatever nook it was stuffed into. THERE. EASY. DONE. PLOT UNLOCKED.

Like, the car accident actually makes it harder to get Carol to that point. The only reason I can see for it being there at all is to force the passage of time so that Carol can grow her hair out and dudebros can stop complaining that she’s unattractive. Because I guess it just never occurred to anybody that they could draw her with long hair to start with?

But ‘oh no, the aliens and the superpowers I can accept, but in the last comic I read Carol had short hair and I AM SORRY BUT there is NO WAY human hair grows that fast, this is BEYOND THE PALE’.

Oh, and can we talk about how Carol’s response to finding OBVIOUS ALIEN TECHNOLOGY is to go, ‘huh, I wonder what this is, let’s see if I can open it by smashing it repeatedly with a hammer’??

Carol: Huh. Let’s see if we can open it. [starts bashing the device wildly] Gah! Why — won’t — you— Marie: [off-panel] Carol! Can you help me with Joe’s tube? Carol: [wandering off as the device activates] Coming, Ma!

And then IMMEDIATELY GETS DISTRACTED AND WANDERS THE FUCK OFF, failing to notice that the OBVIOUS ALIEN DEVICE has suddenly activated and is now beeping ominously????

So while Carol blunders around obliviously, the obvious alien device sends a signal to a galaxy far far away, which in turn activates what is seriously and embarrassingly called a Kree Kleaner. A small spherical vessel orbiting a distant planet lights up and begin speeding towards Earth, while inside some kind of Kree cyborg gestates and grows to maturity at a rapid rate.

Meanwhile Carol sits by the sea with Digital Tony and mopes that “I knew my family wasn’t perfect… but I thought love was”.

you.

you fucking.

Look, I recognise that trauma is complicated and that family shit is even more so. I know people process and cope with things in different ways and at different speeds. And for Carol to suddenly discover that, on top of all the grief he was causing at home, her father was leading some kind of secret life with another women, must surely feel fucking horrible and bring up a lot of deeply painful memories.

But her reaction doesn’t gel with everything Stohl has told us about Carol’s relationship with her father.

We’ve been told that Joseph Danvers was a physically and verbally abusive alcoholic who terrorised his family to the point where, to this day, Carol struggles with PTSD and anxiety attacks. We’ve been told that Carol thinks of him as a mean, violent drunk who even in death haunts her family. She doesn’t understand why her mother stayed with him or why her brother still defends him, when all he ever did was make all of them feel small and powerless.

The idea that Carol would think all of this and yet still be totally blindsided to learn that Joe and Marie’s marriage was not a true-love-fairytale-romance is utterly, outrageously laughable.

Stohl presents the letter as bombshell that overturns everything Carol thought she knew about her family, indicating that Joe was leading a secret life she never knew about. It’s not. All it is is a confirmation of everything we’re told Carol already thinks about her father: that he was a cruel, self-absorbed bastard who treated his family like crap. You know what is a fucking bombshell?

The fact that Joe Danvers apparently had personal access to OBVIOUS ALIEN TECHNOLOGY.

AND AS FOR THIS LINE.

“And like they say, families were made to be broken.”

literally nobody says this.

I even checked, just to be fair to this comic, on the off-chance that it was in fact a thing.

One of the six search results is somebody on instagram quoting this comic. The other five are all related to the title of a single playlist on 8tracks.

But hey, like they say, Margaret Stohl is a fucking hack.

#comics talk #the days of our lives of captain marvel

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chungha-supremacist · 6 years ago

Text

No borders - Chapter 1

word count: 2565

SUMMARY:

“It’s just us 5 right?”

“Forever.”

“No men allowed… ever. Let’s promise to eachother that we will never let any man come in between us!”

“Never!”

Naive promises told at a young age, just between 5 best friends. They promised their world to eachother, “best friends ‘till death breaks us apart”. 10 Years passed. The same 5 girls, but no longer blinded by those “stupid promises”. It will be broken. The promise of a lifetime. The lust of love is what makes us all see unclear. We lose our friends, or soulmates, we fall for the unknown, we fall for lies and for the feeling of being important to someone who will drag us far away from who truly matters.

“Forget about the world… forget about them… right now, it’s only me and you. They don’t need to know that I love you.”

CATEGORY: F/F; F/M

Fandom: RED VELVET (Band), NCT (Band)

Relationships: Park Sooyoung / Kim Yerim; Bae Joohyun / Kang Seulgi; Son Seungwan / Nakamoto Yuta

Characters: Park Sooyoung; Kim Yerim, Bae Joohyun, Kang Seulgi, Son Seungwan, Seo Youngho, Jung Jaehyun, Nakamoto Yuta, Dong Si Cheng, Wong Yuk Hei, Lee Taeyong, Chung Ha

Additional Tags: friendship,angst, mistrust, lies, cheating, lesbian interactions, smut, fluff, fashion, models, rich life, etc

RATED: SMUT, FLUFF, ANGST.

CHAPTER 1

“Buckle up, LESBIANS! We’re going shopping!”

“What… the… fuck.” Says Seulgi half-asleep, looking like a mess, standing on the edge of the bed.

“Are you deaf! I need a new dress, girl, and GUESS WHAT, you and Joohyun are the only ones home!” says Yeri while waving the keychain on her index finger. Yeri has always been like this. The soul, the spirit, the jokester of the “group”. They all “hated” her extravaganza, but what could they do? After all, without Yeri, they would’ve been a mess of boring, lazy and soulless singles. She is the one that takes them to all the parties, or more to say, ‘drags them’. They met all their friends through Yeri, including most of their male friends. After all “a male is a girl’s best friend”, to quote Yeri.

“Did I just hear-“ Joohyun makes a pause while scratching her messy-morning hair, standing in the doorway. “Yerim… What a pleasant surprise…” says Joohyun through gripped teeth.

Joohyun , or ‘Irene’ as her nickname is, has never been like this. When younger, Irene was very eccentric and party-animal. She was just like Yeri. Now, years have put their pattern on her… Tired, exhausted of life… It’s true, she’s only 27 years old, she’s still a “young flower”, but her big, dark eye circles say otherwise. She doesn’t live with Seulgi, but last night it happened that these two went out drinking and Irene was too drunk for Seulgi to just let her walk to her own home like that. So she took care of her dear “best-friend” and took her to sleep in her immense penthouse.

Secret to how Yeri got into the house? Easy. All 5 of them got a spare key to eachother’s houses/apartments. And Yeri makes use of them the most.

“So…” says Yeri while serving herself with a glass of orange juice from Seulgi’s fridge. “Had a sleepover without US?” putting the accent on “us”.

“Yerim… don’t be like this.” Says Seulgi while scratching the back of her neck. “Irene just wanted to go out drinking after she got back from the photoshoot. She got drunk. I took her here so she won’t fall and break her head in her apartment or something and that was it. No sexy pajamas and cocky movies.”

“Hahaha. Knew it, y’all don’t know how to have fun without me.” Says Yeri confidently while sipping sassily on her juice.

“Bullshit.” Says Seulgi while rolling her eyes. “Anyway…what do you need a new dress for?” continues Seulgi while grabbing an apple and biting on it savurously.

“A date.”

Seulgi chokes.

“A what?”

“A date.”

“With who?”

“A handsome guy I met at my last convention. Damn you should’ve seen those magic brown eyes and-“

“Yerim!” Yeri gets starled by the small scream of Irene who was standing on top of the stairs, arms crossed. “What date… What guy…?”

“Irene.. Seulgi.. don’t worry girls… He’s nice, I promise! Y’all will be the first ones to meet him if our first date works well! PINKY PROMISE?”

“Ew… where are you? Kindergarten?” says Irene, rolling her eyes and judging the younger one.

“Grandma…” mocks Yeri while hitting the table with the glass.

“I support you…” whisper Seulgi supportively and gives Yeri a small hug.

“Thank you baby girl… You are the best! NOW COME ONE COWGIRLS! We got an uber to catch!”

Irene was wearing her signature style: always classy, in a fancy suit or a gucci dress, never wearing heels in her free time, only loafers. Seulgi on the other hand, has a different style: “boyfriend-material” as Seungwan calls her, always wearing ripped jeans, a plain t-shirt, a Gucci cap, and some sneakers. They’re both models and they encounter all types of styles and looks, but these are definitely their own pattern.

Yeri walks up in front of the two girls, proudly walking on her 10cm Louboutin heels and her short black summer dress paired with a leather jacket.

“What is she so excited for… psh.” Sighs Irene.

“Irene… let the girl be… she is 21 now. She can’t be single forever. You know Yeri, nothing will come between us and her. No guys, remember?” Reassures Seulgi while giving a small smile to Irene’s straight face.

“It’s whatever to me…” and roughly removes Seulgi’s hand from her shoulder which made Seulgi sigh at the attitude of her Unnie.

Sometimes, they all miss old Irene… More like Joohyun. Since “Adopting” this stage name, “Irene” she became cold towards her friends, stone-hearted and ignorant. This is what everyone at her work place thinks of her, but her friends know. They know the real Joohyun. They know she loves them more than her own life. They know Joohyun would risk it all for all of them. She is the Unnie and the one that keeps this “group” together.

“What do you think she’s doing….” Says the girl, impatient and walking all around the room.

“Sooyoung… can you calm down?” says Chung Ha while applying some more blush to her already rosy cheeks. “I am sure your little ‘best friend’ is probably at work or out with some friends. Why such panic when you should put on that mini-skirt.”

Chung Ha is Sooyoung’s colleague and the only “friend” she gets along with her at her work-place, the only friend she has besides her 5 best-friends. Chung Ha is definitely the most beautiful female Sooyoung has even seen and she could swear she caught herself staring at her beauty from time to time. It’s impossible not to get lost in her looks. She’s got everything you could want in a model. And this is what Chung Ha is, the face of the company where Sooyoung works. As for her, she is just an average model, with low self-confidence. When she looks at Chung Ha, she thinks “oh damn… maybe I should go to the gym more… maybe I need more make-up… maybe I need a bigger size at the bra-“. But she is just underestimating her because of her rough past.

Growing up, Sooyoung had only misfortune in her life. Being bullied since kindergarten for coming from a family with only one parent (her father), in high school suffering from all the fake rumors that she is coming from a poor family and at work… she once got a scandal at her ex-office about rumours that she “harassed” a female worker. All of these were false obviously, Sooyoung couldn’t dare to raise a finger to anyone. All she wanted in this world was to feel loved.

Sooyoung soon leaves a text-message to Yeri asking her to call back when she sees the message and then she goes out from the backstage and goes to rule the small catwalk she had to do in front of some small modelling agency managers. She nailed it, especially because before this, Chung Ha gave her some encouraging words. Chung Ha was her muse.

The curtains fall down and now its silence. There’s not a minute and Sooyoung hears the scream of her “boss”. He is not really her boss, he is just the chief of this department, he could aswell be a model, but he decided to inerhit this department from his father.

“Oh my. Congratulations Sooyoung, Chung Ha, my stars!”

“Oh my god Yuk Hei.” Says Chung Ha while doing a fake smile.

“What is it princess? Can’t take a compliment from your boss?” says Yuk Hei smirky.

“Let her be Yuk Hei…. And thank you, for the congratulations.”

“No need Joy” (Joy is how all the close ones call Sooyoung) “So… are you girls doing anything tonight?” says Yuk Hei while leaning slowly on the make-up stool and making a sign to the make-up artist to leave.

“You’re hitting on us again…” Chung Ha rolls her eyes in disgust.

“What? Who? Me? Naah. I got plenty of chicks in my hands to deal with, Chung Ha” says Yuk Hei playfully. “I was just asking because… you know…”

“You have no friends…” whispers Sooyoung with her head down.

“PARK SOOYOUNG”

“I’m sorry Yuk Hei… but isn’t this the truth. If so… Then maybe I’ll go out with you” says Sooyoung while packing her stage clothes into a workout bag.

“Ugh… I DO HAVE FRIENDS, ok? It’s just… They’re all having a night shift tonight and I just wanna celebrate with my models… What’s wrong about it?”

“Nothing, Yuk Hei… I will go with you. Chung Ha?”

Chung Ha seems to not knowledge the two of them and mumbles “I got better plans for tonight.” She takes her designer bag and leaves.

“Psh… I should fire her for this behavior…” says Yuk Hei while getting up from the seat. “What about we leave after you get changed? I will wait for you in my office, when you’re ready.” And he leaves the room which he filled with his strong, expensive cologne.

Yuk Hei is the type of young CEO who is just a spoiled brat at the first sight. You see him with ladies at poker nights and all fancied up in the most perfect-fit black suit with a little rose ready to be given to any lady that would catch his attention. He is that handsome, tall, perfect pushed back, black hair, and deep brown Chinese eyes that no body could refuse. Besides all of this, he’s got the charms, charisma, his humour is always a fine one. Sooyoung was very attracted to him at first, she could’ve sworn she will faint when she came at this agency for a modelling interview. He was standing there, scanning every move of her body. This made Sooyoung’s legs tremble and she thinks he just chose her as his model for mercy. Now, 2 years later, she sees Yuk Hei only as a good friend, and her “boss”.

Yeri just got home, after the “tiring” shopping session with her unnies. Tiring, in fact, only for her, because all Seulgi and Irene did was stare at the younger one running from store to store, trying on 10 dressed per store and buying in the end only one from the last store they went into. Yeri is happy though, she got to spend time with two of the most important persons to her and now she is at her vanity table, getting ready for her “big date”. She plays music loudly as she does her makeup so she couldn’t bother to hear the entrance door opening. Perfect timing for her evil Canadian friend to sneak in and scare the life out of Yeri.

“WENDY SON!!! I SWEAR TO THE GODS YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS-“ screams Yeri and stomps her feet to the floor like a little child who didn’t get any candy.

“Woah woah woah! What are you getting ready for, miss single?” says Wendy, with a cocky, proud smile on her face while making herself comfortable on the endge of Yeri’s bed.

“Not you business.”

Wendy grabs her hand firmly, enough to scare Yerim again and intimidates her “My business!”

Yeri is terrifyied by Wendy’s power. She is that one friend that gets everything she wants from anyone, with just a death glare. Besides that, you could easily get lost In her insanely gorgeous eyes. She is one stunning half-american girl. She is a bank accountant and she works at Yeri’s father’s company, the biggest one in Seoul.

“Ah Wendy! Stop playing games…” says Yeri poutyly. “I’m going out…”

“With? Joy?”

“NO??!!”

“Why so panicked?” Wendy smirks.

“Stupid… I’m not panicked, im just nervous. I’m going out with the most handsome guy in my agency. He’s a photographer and”

“Wait. WHAT?? YOU GOT A DATE?”

“yes…” says Yeri very confused, not knowing if Wendy is being mad or excited for her.

“That is… GREAT! Now let me redo that eyeline, you ain’t going out like that-“ and Wendy smacks the eyeliner from Yeri’s hands and positions herself good enough to give the younger one a BOMB make-up look.

Wendy is a “professional” in dating. She has dated the most men until now. 6 at count. 3 during high school and 3 during the past 4 years of work. Even so, she keeps these “Details” private to her best-friends. Why?

FLASHBACK

“They would never understand…” and she leans her head on his shoulder.

“But they are your friends Seungwan… Will you hide this from them forever?”

“I don’t want to lose you… or them…”

“If you continue like this, you will lose one of them… or maybe all. Let’s tell them.” And he wakes up to stand firmly in front of his dear one.

“Give me some more time… Please.”

“Just because I love you… but the time is ticking.” And he places a meaningful kiss on her forehead leaving her to sit alone on the cold bench in front of the Han River.

END OF FLASHBACK.

Hours and hours of getting ready, and Yeri is finally ready to go, under the splendid makeover done by Wendy.

“You looks stunning!” says Wendy while she analyses her bestie from top to bottom.

“I love you so much Seungwan! Thank you.” And she suddenly become thoughtful.

“What’s wrong?”

“What if I fail.”

“Yerim… what’s with this negativity… I don’t wanna hear none of this! You will go there and have the wildest night of your life-“ Yeri is looking at Wendy with big eyes.

“W-wild?”

“I mean- Yeah. Wild.”

“What do you mean by-“

“OH MY LOOK AT THE TIME!” says Wendy, flustered and drags Yeri to the door.

All the details are done and now she is ready to head to the door, right when the doorbell rings.

“Uhm. Is he supposed to come pick you up”

“Yes. I think that’s him.” Says Yeri while staring blankly at the door, not knowing what to do.

“then… WHY ARE U STANDING AND NOT GOING TO OPEN?” says Wendy is a quiet scream.

“SHH! Ok, ok ima go.”

And she opens the door, leaving sight to one of the most beautiful man they have ever seen. Or at least, Wendy has seen. She was standing awkwardly in the back of Yeri, staring the man down. It was a male in his 25s, dressed not very fancy, but definitely breathtaking as he was wearing a nice white shirt, complimenting one of the tiniest waist Wendy has ever seen at a male, some black jeans that looked like they were made to be worn by him and only him and a denim jacket falling over one of this shoulders. His cologne already made Wendy zone out and now that she is done scanning his body, she gets to the face, a face that stuns her beyond words. “The prettiest man alive” she tought to herself.

All her thoughts are now faded as she finds herself alone in the room. “Did they leave?” She must’ve zoned out way too much that Yeri and the handsome man already left. Did she really catch herself looking at the man Yeri is dating?? Yeri, her best friend?? “This can’t be possible…” she tells to herself as she leans thoughtful on the sofa. She feels sad. She feels disappointed in herself but yet, she really can’t take her mind off the man she has just seen. She ends up falling sleep in Yeri’s apartment, on her sofa, sunk deep in thoughts and questions.

#red velvet #nct #red velvet fanfic #red velvet scenario #nct scenario #kpop

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