#God I hate how normalized bullying has become on the internet now

[urguyredd]

”How my OC would be mischaracterized!” and it’s just normal headcanons, common character interpretations, and basic drawing mistakes (most of which can be made by beginner artists and CHILDREN.)

[welllpthisishappening]

Emma Swan, Olympian is not a phrase Emma Swan, totally normal person, ever expected to hear.

But she never expected one night at a party hosted by her college's baseball team to change her entire life, either. So, it should really come as no surprise that Emma Swan, Olympian, is now something of international sensation. Or that her husband has become a bit of a social media star.

——— Rating: Teen with sports feelings Word Count: 7.5K AN: As promised and because of who I am as a person, I wrote Olympic fic. I can neither confirm nor deny that there is an actual plot here, but there is a surplus of fluff and sports-based feelings. So, that’s something. Thanks to the Detroit Lions, specifically, for posting this Tweet and to my husband who is very much aware of what content I want the internet to provide me. Operation: Make Killian a New York Yankee as often as possible continues.

|| Read on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

———

No one told her the questions would start to blur together.

That would require media training, Emma imagines. And no one is giving a first-time Olympian in a sport that only a handful of people marginally believe warrants notice from the IOC any sort of media training. She got, like, an orientation packet. With a lopsided staple in the top left corner. On her commercial flight. That she booked herself.

Twenty-plus hours crammed into a seat that she’s only a little concerned did permanent damage to her right knee, with a meal that was so chewy Emma was about four seconds and one exasperated, entirely exhausted exhale from asking if it was, in fact, made of plastic.

Mostly, the staple is what’s still managing to frustrate her. As frustrated as she can be at the Olympics. No one is supposed to be frustrated at the Olympics. Not really. Not while experiencing the pinnacle of athletic achievement, the calluses on Emma’s fingertips some sort of badge of honor that she’s wearing with at least a modicum of national pride, and everything is fine.

Her qualifying time was absurd. Where absurd is a compliment and very close to a record she’s suddenly determined to shatter.

So, she’s alone.

Big deal. So is everyone else. This Olympics, at least. Plus, Killian wouldn’t have been able to come no matter what the state of the world was. Even so, the quiet stands are admittedly weird. All these empty arenas with empty seats, the distinct lack of a roaring crowd no more obvious than when the world’s best athletes step to the line. Staring at the climbing wall in front of her four hours earlier, Emma swore she could hear every single beat of her heart echo between her ears.

And that’s—well, solitude is par for the course with an adolescence like hers, half-filled suitcases and brand-new faces in brand-new towns, but she’d gotten used to one town, and the town is actually a city, and the city has long since felt like home, and her fingers reach for the rings dangling above her Team USA t-shirt. They did give her an absolute shit ton of t-shirts, so that was nice.

Except—

Something keeps tugging. Nagging at the back of Emma’s consciousness, almost like she’s forgotten her keys on that flea market table they found in Park Slope two weeks after they moved into the apartment. Because for as well-versed Emma may be in that singular sort of existence, she’s also well-removed from wanting it, and at least three of her knuckles crack. Curling around her rings.

Muscles in her cheeks stretch, another nod and quick blink to avoid the threat of blinding via camera flashes. Someone really should have told her about this. She probably should have assumed. Human interest is the driving force of at least three-quarters of the stories in sports, and Emma’s not used to being the story, per se, but even she has to admit most of hers makes for a good one and they are still asking her questions.

Emma blinks again. Hopes she doesn’t look like a serial killer or the weird blonde, slightly sweaty cousin of the Joker, her smile starting to feel as if it’s painted on her face. She nods. Hums. Listens to questions that are startling in their tonal similarity to Charlie Brown’s teacher, and Emma wonders if Charlie Brown ever got a different teacher or what the school structure of the Peanuts’ universe is and, God, how old was Charlie Brown, even? To withstand that sort of consistent bullying. Was Linus the same age as him? No, right? How long did he carry the blanket around? Was Linus the same age as Sally? Why didn’t the red-headed girl with curly hair get a name?

She nearly falls out of her chair.

That might make the front page of several blogs. Possibly even the back page of a New York tab.

Careful to keep her feet on the ground, Emma lifts her head, directing her eyes toward the source of a question that must have been asked several times if the note of amusement mixing with deadline-based exasperation is anything to go by. Her smile definitely makes her look like a serial killer.

“Sorry, sorry,” Emma mumbles, and none of the oxygen she does her best to inhales makes it even close to her lungs. “I, uh—what was the question?”

The reporter grimaces.

“I wanted to know if you’d seen the video of your husband yet.”

Ice runs down her spine. Every single drop of wholly disgusting sweat falling in rivulets down either one of her cheeks freezes. Oxygen disappears from the room. Or so Emma assumes, what with the crushing feeling pushing down on her lungs and whatnot.

Her mind whirs. Races through possibilities and pitfalls with a speed that would be impressive if Emma weren’t already so close to that record, and she is going to break that record. Somehow she manages not to fall, though. From her chair or the metaphorical climbing wall in her brain, ignoring the sudden dryness of her mouth and the increasing size of her tongue.

Her nails are going to leave little half-moon creases in her palm.

“I don’t—” she starts, and eventually she will wish she was more articulate. For what turns out to be a very nice story.

Standing up, the reporter’s seat creaks as she moves toward the desk they deposited Emma behind after even. Several Olympic officials move to block her, but Emma shakes her head again, and she’s not exactly high-priority on the list of defensible athletes, anyway. So, none of them flinch when the reporter slides a phone closer to Emma, her crazed thoughts briefly lingering on how many phones a reporter could possibly need, but then her eyes drop, and she’s not sure if her ears can actually perk, but Emma certainly tries because she hears him yelling before she sees him.

Her smile shifts.

And the cameras flash again.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s collegiate life, because Anna demands it.

She’s only half-listening, so Emma can never be entirely sure what it was, exactly, she was agreeing to, but in her experience, the agreement doesn’t matter so much as the action, and her roommate’s younger sister is unstoppable when it comes to action. So, Emma is dimly aware of a plan. Something about the baseball house and that one left fielder is in a handful of her classes.

David—something.

He’s got a girlfriend, too. A nice one. Who always smells like sugar when she slides into the seat next to David whatever his last name is, sitting in the row in front of Emma during their Tuesday-Thursday statistics class.

Emma hates statistics.

She doesn’t hate Anna, though. Or her roommate, one of the better college-based surprises, and either Anna has magic or Elsa is an enormous pushover because somehow all three of them are ready at the same time, and the walk to the baseball house isn’t far.

First-year players guard the door — passing out color-coded wristbands that absolutely do not do their job because it takes about six seconds of well-meaning flirting and batted eyelashes between Anna and a mountain of muscle masquerading as the team’s starting catcher to get them inside. With purple wristbands and two tickets for jungle juice instead of the keg.

“Victory,” Anna cries, twisting through the crowd. Half of it is already teetering on the edge of drunk, the rest free-falling into the pit of imminent hangovers, and Emma isn’t sure she’d classify their drinks as a victory, but it’s definitely better than watered-down beer.

And it doesn’t take long, really. By Emma’s shaky count, it’s not even a half-hour before the muscle — who introduces himself as Kristoff, and really is pretty cute, actually — returns, standing unnaturally close to Anna’s left shoulder, furtive glances shared out of the corners of their eyes. Emma rolls hers. Elsa’s appear perpetually stuck to the ceiling. It looks oddly sticky up there.

“Go,” Elsa says, and it’s not an instruction. Barely counts as more than a whisper, really. Anna lights up all the same. Like an alcohol-fueled Christmas tree.

Who does not need telling more than once.

Hands reach and smiles widen, Kristoff mumbling something that sounds like it was nice to meet you before he’s following Anna back to the beer pong table, leaving Elsa and Emma standing in the middle of a sea of raging hormones. All of which want to be there way more than either one of them does.

“Well,” Elsa mutters, “that was polite.”

Emma snickers into her glass. A mostly empty glass. That’s surprising. “Got that going for him.” “Plus, his on-base is nuts this year.”

“Say that again.” “On-base percentage,” Elsa repeats, making sure to do it slowly for maximum sarcastic emphasis. Emma’s eyes are going to fall out. That won’t end well. There are too many shuffling feet in this room.

“What does that mean?” “How often he gets on base.” Opening her mouth does nothing. Closing it does even less. Elsa looks overjoyed. “I know things,” she shrugs, “and I’m pretty positive Anna and Kristoff have been not-so-secretly dating since the start of the semester, so—” “You stalked your sister’s secret boyfriend?” “Stalk’s a very dirty word, don’t you think? No, no, there was no stalking. There was light research. One Google search and a single click to the team’s roster, and now I know he’s from Minnesota, too.” “Awfully convenient for the romance of the century.” Humming, Elsa takes a larger-than-usual sip before scrunching her nose in displeasure. At her empty cup. Emma has no idea how they ended up with empty cups so quickly. Suddenly the baseball house feels a bit like a time warp. Enter and drink and find the love of your life. Or something like that.

“I got next,” Emma says, ignoring Elsa’s laugh because she is not the sort of person who says things like that. It’s this house. This place. With its music and its happiness, and she’s not really a sports person. Can only marginally understand the joy of watching other people accomplish something. She has no idea what on-base percentage is.

Still.

Her feet move. Fingers curl over the rim of red solo cups, like the most cliché version of her college self. Her drinks get refilled. And it’s just as Emma’s about to let herself wonder if, maybe, sports aren’t all that bad and might even possess a bit of inherent romanticism, she slams into something.

Someone, more like.

Taller than her, he has to peer down his nose to glare at Emma. That’s fair. They’re both far more damp than they were ten seconds before. Some of that moisture ensures that the hem of his shirt sticks to his stomach. A very flat stomach. That draws Emma’s eyes because she’s human and slightly intoxicated, and it takes quite a lot more than she’s willing to admit to lift her chin, but then she’s glad she does. Even with the understandable glare.

“Shit,” she breathes, “your eyes are stupid blue.”

He narrows them. She hates that. Which is about all it takes for her to get royally pissed off, too.

“Can you pay attention to where you’re walking?”

The stupidly blue eyes blink. Darken a shade, like all his frustration is centered directly around his pupils, and the shirt he’s wearing is team-branded. Another baseball player, then.

“You ran into me!” Oh, Oh. Well, that sucks. He’s got a good voice, too. Eyes and voice and the few strands of hair that fall toward those eyes when he continues to glare at Emma likely aren’t supposed to make her stomach flip.

It’s the alcohol’s fault.

Or sports. Like, in general.

“Because you take up so much space,” Emma snarls He leans forward. Looms, really. Over her and around her, smelling like punch and body wash. It’s gross and absolutely wonderful. “Gotta pick a lane, love. Either I ran into you, or I was in the way.”

“It can definitely be both and there is nothing resembling love here.”

“So I can see. You have a name, wrecking ball?” “My shoes are never going to unstick from this floor.” To his credit, he does waver. His lips twist — which makes it all too obvious how much Emma is staring at his lips, but, seriously, the alcohol. Plus, it’s so hot in this house she can barely think straight. She wonders where he buys his body wash. He smells better than he should in this house. So, it's clear he considers. Ponders, even. Until his hands dart out and those hands are somehow warmer than every person in this house combined, heat scorching through Emma’s t-shirt as he lifts her off the ground.

Only to deposit her approximately fourteen inches to her left.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” “Look,” he grins, “you’re unstuck.” “Bastard!” “Eh, not technically.” “What?” “Not technically a bastard. Orphan, I suppose. But that’s kind of a mood ruiner, don’t you think?”

Emma’s fish impression is really going great. The grin becomes a smirk. Her stomach refuses to stay still. “Is there a mood to ruin?” “Might be if you tell me your name.”

Emma wavers, that time. Considers and ponders. Weighs the pros and cons while laughter drifts past her ears, consummate collegiate experiences that she’s only ever let herself be passably jealous of. A dark-haired girl’s talking to Elsa in the opposite corner.

And the hand hanging in front of her wiggles its fingers.

It’s still ridiculously warm when she grabs it. “Emma Swan.” “Killian Jones.”

Anna’s secret relationship becomes a real relationship no less than sixteen hours following what Elsa begins to call the Drink Incident.

And they become—

Baseball people.

Becoming baseball people is not bad. Not really. Emma likes the baseball team. She understands what WHIP is, now. Kristoff adores Anna, so that’s good. David, who does, in fact, have a last name, continues to be as nice as assumed, and his girlfriend sort of quasi adopts Emma. Mary Margaret Blanchard brims with positivity and an innate sort of joy that would usually annoy Emma, but most of that joy also serves as a direct counter to the snark that Killian Jones appears flush with. So, it’s something of a wash, really.

Plus, he’s a very sore Monopoly loser.

And Emma finds it endlessly entertaining.

“Stop that,” he grunts, glaring at the board with the sort of force Emma’s become accustomed to in the last few months, while she taps on the space in front of her, “I know how many spots it is.” Emma smiles. “So move, then.” “I’ll be bankrupt.” “Capitalism does that.” “Tell me more about capitalism, Swan.”

She doesn’t startle, so there’s that. Not much else, though. Not when a noticeable bit of equally familiar heat skitters down her spine. Her head tilts. His head remains frustratingly still, staring at the board like the spaces will change or Mary Margaret will tear down some of her hotels on Marvin Gardens.

Neither thing happens.

The heat pools. At the small of her back, inching dangerously close to that space between her hips, like it’s trying to tether her to this spot and this moment and its people. Baseball people. People who so clearly care about everything so much that even the cynic in Emma can appreciate it. Plus, they’re all ridiculously competitive.

David had to take a walk when Mary Margaret bankrupt him earlier.

“That’s about the extent of my capitalism knowledge,” Emma admits with a shrug, “I sucked at economics.” Pulling his gaze away from the board, Emma’s less prepared for the force behind Killian’s eyes than she was for the appearance of a nickname that might not warrant the title. It’s just her name, after all. But it sounds like more than that. Sinks under her skin with alarming ease, the precise tone of it wrapping its way around a variety of internal organs until they’re all beating at the same tempo and— “Move my piece for me.”

Kristoff groans. Mary Margaret chuckles. Elsa looks far too sure of herself. Knows everything, indeed.

And it’s not really a command, but there’s that same sense of something that found its way into the sound of Emma’s name and Killian’s voice, and he catches her by surprise. On a variety of levels. His fingers jump the moment hers reach out, all heat and an alarming size difference, his brows lifting when she turns her head.

“You’re taking this game way too seriously, you know,” Emma says. What she doesn’t say is more important, though. Because they’re not friends, really. They’re—acquaintances. Some kind of appropriate metaphor regarding a planet’s many moons and the tendency of those moons to orbit something far bigger than them. But they like each other, too. As much as they dance and twist, do their best to avoid getting hit in the batter’s box, Emma’s more comfortable bantering with him than just about anyone she’s ever met, a challenge in every conversation, and she’s rather loath to realize she’s memorized the different ways the blue in his eyes flash.

Now it feels a bit like a spotlight.

“Matter of pride, Swan.” “Is it just?” If there are other people laying on their stomachs in that living room, half-empty glasses by their hands and equipment stacked in various corners, Emma forgets about them. Quickly. Immediately. Killian doesn’t move his fingers.

He nods.

And Mary Marget only kind of gloats when she bankrupts him.

She dances when she wins, though.

It’s embarrassing. It’s absolutely, goddamn wonderful.

Realizing that baseball is a game of statistics ruins kind of Emma’s day. It makes Killian laugh. Her favorite sort of laugh. Where he throws his head back, an arm around his middle, and his shoulders shaking. Those same strands of hair she noticed that first night fall back toward lidded eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting in an angle Emma is sure she could determine if she just didn’t hate math so much, and it takes about four seconds, her head tilting back and forth twice and one swipe of her tongue to lean forward on the couch they're sharing, tilt her head up and press her lips to his.

Press is a vast understatement.

Crash, more like.

A bases-clearing double into the left-field gap.

She knows so many baseball terms now, it’s ridiculous.

It’s because she keeps going to games. With Anna. Without Anna. With Elsa. Without Elsa. With Mary Margaret every single time. And it creeps on so slowly, she’s practically a Jane Austen heroine, but then Emma finds she cares as much as everyone else. Screams herself hoarse at every crack of the bat. Jumps and fist bumps with startling regularity. Experiences the flutter of butterflies in her flip-prone stomach before ninth-inning rallies.

She memorizes statistics. Killian’s statistics, especially.

Because the Draft is a week away, and the nerves rolling off him are even more potent than his body wash. Bought in bulk from a locally-owned company, she learns.

Killian hates capitalism, too.

Which is only part of the reason she likes him, but right now all of the reason is centered around how it feels as if the world is shifting on its axis and what, precisely, he is capable of with his tongue. Quite a lot if this first time at bat is anything to believe.

Emma laughs.

Joy bubbles from the very center of her, pushing at the seam of her lips, and it’s not much of a seam when her mouth is open to accommodate tongue, but it’s enough of a sound that Killian pulls back. No glare. Definitely eyebrow movement, though.

“That’s not the best confidence boost, you know.” “I’m straddling you,” Emma counters, nodding toward the knees on either side of his, and she has no idea when her fingers found his hair. It’s very soft.

“How did that happen?” “What was that about confidence?”

Dropping his head, she gets a different sort of laugh, one that’s just as potent in its ability to settle into her bloodstream and the empty spaces around her heart, and sports have turned her into a sap. “I like you a lot,” Killian murmurs. Emma’s heart explodes. Metaphorically speaking.

“Good.” “Expand on that, for me.” She pinches his side, almost prepared for the way it leaves him bucking beneath her. Less prepared for the mutual groan it causes. Killian’s eyes widen. “I like you a lot,” Emma repeats, and his arms tighten, and her heart knits itself back together, and the second time through the kissing order is even better.

It starts, as with most things in Emma’s nearly-adult life, because Anna demands it.

“I just think it’ll be fun,” Anna says, not for the first time. And, not for the first time, she ignores the pointed look Emma and Elsa exchange. Elsa’s lips have all but disappeared behind her teeth “Think about it,” Anna continues, “we need something to do before the game, anyway. This way we’re—you know, staying active.” Emma’s eyebrows jump. Fly. Soar into her hairline where the level of her disbelief sits, all too aware of the ring hanging around her neck.

A Draft Day gift. As much as a family heirloom can be a gift. But Killian claimed it was good luck, his brother’s ring, because turns out that snark is at least a partial product of a wholly depressing childhood, and Emma supposes there’s something to be said for common ground. Understanding, too. Stories shared over weeks that turned to months that turned to years and seasons in the minors, and it absolutely figures Killian’s Major League debut is happening in Cincinnati. Where Kristoff plays.

It’s ridiculous how in love with him she is.

Killian. Not Kristoff.

Anna is still talking. “There’s nothing else to do in Cincinnati,” she reasons, which seems unfair to the city itself but not entirely untrue, and even the concept of chili on spaghetti grosses Emma out. “Also,” Anna adds, sounding as if she’s reached the final bullet point on her list of possible arguments, “I’ve got a Groupon deal for this place.”

Elsa blinks. “I didn’t realize Groupon was even still a thing.” “Surprise!”

Emma’s laugh isn’t entirely honest, but her sigh of acceptance is and—

Turns out she’s pretty good at it.

Goddamn fantastic, actually.

At rock climbing. Indoor rock climbing. Her feet push her up the wall with ease, the steady ache in her arms welcome and wonderful and a slew of other alliterative adjectives. That leave Killian grinning like a maniac, but it’s been a weird and equally wonderful day, without a hit, but two walks, so that ups the on-base, and Emma’s really, seriously in love with him.

“I don’t know what it was,” she says, preening just a bit under Killian’s stare. Hotel lighting casts shadows on his cheeks, slumped as he is against every pillow they could find. Even the ones in the closet. He’s not supposed to be in here for much longer, both of them aware of the team-ordained curfew hanging over them, but the pre-game nerves are long gone. Replaced instead with exhilaration and endorphins, the kind that could win Elle Woods a headline-making case. “But,” Emma continues, “I just kept moving, and the guy said it was, like, a course record. Is course the right word, you think?” Killian lifts a shoulder. Even as it’s covered in ice and tape. The play he made at third is going to show on loop. On TV. In Emma’s memory. She’s never yelled that loud before.

People took pictures.

And then she cried. Like a giant sap.

“This is your show, Swan,” Killian chuckles, pride infusing the words. As if she’s the one who deserves the pride today. It’s entirely possible she cried for multiple minutes after that play. They definitely showed that on the YES Network. Mary Margaret texted her no less than forty-seven times.

“I was really fast.” Killian hums, fingers fluttering enough to make it clear he wants her closer. Emma doesn’t argue. They’re a mess of limbs and mouths and that tongue thing they’ve collectively gotten better at giving and receiving over the years, hands that warm with the sort of confidence borne of repetition. Some joke about BP and finding your swing.

“Plus,” he says, a soft laugh at Emma’s noise of displeasure when talking means far less kissing, “becoming a rock climbing savant means more upper-body work, and you know how I love your arms.” Guffawing the way Emma does is not particularly romantic. Doesn’t matter. The sound comes, and the joy remains, a steady stream pumping through all her extremities and clouding her thoughts. In the best way possible. Before Killian, Emma didn’t know this could be that. Fun and easy, not quite simple, but something she’s willing to work for. Athletes are notoriously determined, after all.

Part of her wonders if a proclivity to rock climbing makes her an athlete, too.

“Please,” she says, laughter clinging to the letters even as she finds herself moved directly over Killian’s outstretched legs, “provide, in detail, everything you enjoy about my arms.” “I didn’t say enjoy.” “Were you misquoted, Jones?” His eyes flash. Glow, honestly. At her and because of her and athletes also know how to work their opponents. Goad them into making mistakes. Something about a pitcher’s duel and a battle in the box. Where the box is this bed. And Emma’s winning.

“I love your arms,” Killian says. Dragging his mouth against the column of her throat leaves goosebumps on Emma’s skin. Her back arches. His hand flattens. The compliments continue. Turn into promises. Guarantees. Of a future that’s spread out at their feet now, if only they reach for it.

Turns out Emma’s pretty good at reaching for things. When she wants them.

“This isn’t, like, free-scale, though, is it?”

Her heart cannot be expected to handle much more of this.

“Don’t worry,” Emma says, “all proper safety precautions were taken. Plus, I wouldn’t fall off the wall.”

Killian’s expression shutters. Not in any of that frustration Emma so clearly understood when his shirt was damp, and her shoes were unsalvagable despite his best efforts to get the school’s equipment manager to dry-clean them. No, it’s—it’s something big and important and unspoken, and Emma pulls his hand up. To rest directly over the rink that’s still tucked beneath her t-shirt.

His t-shirt.

It’s got his last number on it, at least.

“Would you catch me if I fell off the wall?” He doesn’t answer at first. Doesn’t mention the absurdity of a question that does not make sense, but those literal and metaphorical clock hands are ticking, and if they don’t replace his ice soon, they’re going to destroy these sheets. “Every single time, Swan.” “Right back at you.”

Killian doesn’t miss curfew, but it’s pretty close.

And Emma wakes up to twelve texts with links for indoor rock climbing gyms in the greater New York City area.

“Holy shit, this is hard.”

Grunting more than laughing, Emma’s fingers curl around the rock in front of her. Chalk cakes itself on the pads of those fingers, stuck beneath her nails and, somehow, the bend of her elbow. “Are you not an All-Star?” she asks, glancing at Killian.

“I do not see how that factors into this at all.”

“Huh, weird.” “Suspiciously sounds like an accusation.” “Weird,” Emma repeats. They’re halfway up a wall only one of them is really supposed to be on, but the other person several feet below them is faring far worse than the pair of them combined, so, that takes precedence in her mind. “He knows a lot more curse words than I realized.” “He’s showing off,” Killian grumbles, forehead resting against the wall.

Will Scarlet hasn’t moved in five minutes. Possibly six. Maybe a round ten. He's much better at second base.

“I cannot feel my arms,” he calls, and Emma’s laugh is better that time. Purer, somehow. As if happiness can actually have a sound. Even happiness that comes with sweat on her temple and a noticeable ache in her triceps and she sort of loves this.

Sort of is a vast understatement.

“Showing off, huh?” Emma asks. She finds her next footfall with ease, happiness blooming into confidence that’s become nearly consistent these days and weeks and years. It does not take her long to feel the stare that’s lingering on her. On her ass, specifically.

She glances over her shoulder. To find her fiancé smiling at her. And staring at her ass.

“Can I help you, love?” “Whatcha doing?” “Ogling you, obviously.” “Forearms feeling good?” He nods. Sort of. There’s a distinct slope to the back of his neck and more sweat on his brown than Emma’s. Not as much as Scarlet’s, probably. “Fantastic,” Killian drawls, “keep going, Swan, someone’s got to show us how to do it.” “Try not to fall off the wall, huh? Last thing we need is the might of the Yankees front office coming after us.” “I don’t think I can move my hands,” Will shouts. Killian doesn’t move. It’s impressive forearm strength. Blushing on the wall is not usually how Emma’s days go.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises, and Emma moves. He follows her. Up the wall and to the top, a quick brush of his lips against her shoulder that leaves Scarlet cursing even more, despite his presence on the floor, but then there’s lemon-flavored water and exceptionally soft towels and Emma’s caught a bit off guard by the question.

“Are there leagues for this?” Will asks. “Because you should probably be winning things for this.” Emma blinks. Considers. Wonders. Turns to Killian.

He’s still smiling. Broadly, in fact.

“We could look.” They do. They fill out paperwork. Buy fancy climbing shoes that Emma claims cost too much, but Killian’s a pushover and even more stubborn and she wins the first race she signs up for.

Plus, ten more after that.

Emma climbs indoor rock walls. Killian hits home runs. Occasionally they do these things simultaneously, and it usually leads to her nearly falling off the wall because everyone in her Tribeca gym knows what it means when WFAN is playing on the speakers.

Sometimes they shout out John Sterling’s home run call with him.

She gets better. He gets better.

They do end up destroying sheets in various hotels across the country. For various reasons. Not all of them post-game or ice related. There are games and events. Wins and losses. Back page spreads that Emma frames and hangs on their apartment walls, right next to other, smaller frames, with the same smiling faces who, once upon a time, called a sticky-floored baseball house home, and Killian’s fingers are warm in hers when the tears prick her eyes at Anna and Kristoff’s wedding.

There are stories. Think pieces and hot takes on a variety of drive-time radio shows. Those are all about Killian, though. He’s the athlete. The true one, some stories say. It’s impressive what Emma does, they admit, but it’s a hobby, and she’s got a grown-up career, anyway. So, she’s got more climbing records than she knew ever existed, but she’s not doing it for press, and both Mary Margaret and Anna weep at her and Killian’s wedding.

She wears her ring on a chain next to her other one when she climbs.

Every time Killian notices them hanging there, Emma swears, his eyes brighten. It’s her favorite thing in the whole, goddamn world.

“What is this?” He doesn’t answer. Just holds the sheet of paper he must have printed out in the clubhouse because they certainly don’t have a printer at home, and one of the edges is bent. Like he had to fit it in his back pocket.

“Going the stoic route, huh?” Emma quips, but there’s a noticeable hitch in her pulse. One that’s been there for weeks. Since the rumblings started, and the rumors began, whispers of possibility, and first-ever has a very nice ring to it. One side of Killian’s mouth tugs up. “Oh, that’s not fair.” “I’d like the record to show, that the only reason I didn’t know immediately was because I was in the trainer’s room, so—” “What were you in the trainer’s room for?” Killian ignores her. Well, sort of. His eyes shift, and his gaze holds, and Emma knows. Right down in the marrow of her. What the paper is and how Scarlet is the one who printed it out, but she’s even more confident Killian carried it home, and that does something funny to her entire worldview. Widens it and minimizes it at the same time, focusing on this and them and the possibility that creates.

In an athletic sort of way.

“My shoulder’s kind of sore.” Emma scoffs. “Oh, that’s pointed.” “I’m sure your shoulders are fine. Golden, even.’ “This is not your best work, you know that?” “Look at the paper.” “Did you fold it yourself?” “And then took a car back home. You really didn’t see yet?” Emma shakes her head. He knows the answer, too. He’s the one with the Google alert, after all. Because she’s still a bit of a pessimist at heart and an adult with a real job, and this is too much and abjectly terrifying, and the last thing she expects is for Killian to crouch in front of her.

One of his knees cracks.

“Don’t,” he warns, even as Emma does her best to swallow her laugh. Warm hands land on her thighs, a quiet steadiness that helps the state of her pulse and makes the possibility of the unknown a little less overwhelming. The lines crossing the center of the paper are absurdly straight. “You’re going to go.” “Oh, that sounded like a decree.” “A suggestion.” “A strong one.” “Mmhm, with the utmost confidence.” Emma makes an impressive sound. “Who’s doing your media training? What an impressive vocabulary you’ve got on you.” “Ready and willing to use it in a persuasive manner.” “Keep talking like that, and you won’t have to.” The smirk disappears. Evolves into a grin that is only Emma’s and only appears in moments like this, support clinging to air molecules and the ends of hair that constantly seems determined to fall into Killian’s eyes. “Passed, huh? All cool with the IOC.” “Decidedly cool. Officially an Olympic sport, now. Although the name could use some work. Sport climbing lacks a little oomph, don’t you think?”

“What would you call it?” “Emma Swan wins Olympic gold.” “Kinda wordy.” “Prophetic,” Killian corrects, hands shifting and pulling, and Emma has to widen her legs. His head’s at a very good kissing angle. “You’ve already got the qualifying numbers.” “You looked at the qualifying numbers?” “Don’t insult me like that. What do you think I did in the backseat?” “Planned the entire 2020 Olympics, apparently.” “Not the entire Olympics,” Killian counters, "just the part involving you. And maybe my individual expectations regarding the United States baseball team, but that’s another conversation altogether.”

“Naturally.”

“You’re using that voice.”

Widening her eyes does nothing. Emma didn’t expect it to. Not after years and games and events because rock climbing has events, and one time Mary Margaret made her a sign. Killian held it. He’s taller, that’s why.

“Don’t,” Killian repeats, “this is happening.” “Yuh-huh?” “You heard me. It’s your turn, now.” Melting is an impossibility. Like, for a human. Even so. Emma feels like she’s melting. Some of that pessimism evaporating under the warmth of Killian’s gaze and his hands and the determination in the precise angle of his chin. Same one he uses when he steps into the box with runners in scoring position.

Lumping herself into that group isn’t as insulting as Emma once believed it would be.

“God,” Emma groans, “that’s romantic.” “You’re really selling it, love.”

“This is supposed to be a hobby.” “One you’re exceedingly good it. World record good at it.” “I like you.” “That’s my end game, yeah.” She laughs. Smiles. Continues melting. Which is easier once they get rid of their clothing, and their bed is way more comfortable than any hotel they’ve encountered. And she falls asleep with Killian’s lips against her ear, Emma Swan, Olympic gold medalist whispered on loop like it’s a mantra he’s been practicing.

They postpone the Olympics.

It sucks. Everything sucks. Baseball sucks. Gyms are closed. Emma gets creative, and Killian gets research-prone. They build a makeshift wall. She tosses him BP.

People write stories about it.

It doesn’t help.

Until—

Time passes. Some things change. Others don’t. Their wall stands up to the elements of their building’s courtyard, and Killian’s hitting better than ever this season, a victory Emma’s going to claim as at least partially hers. And then the Olympics are back, and it’s qualifying and racing and a record that’s just out of reach, but she’s good enough even without it, and, this time, she’s the one packing a suitcase.

He kisses her.

Does the tongue thing.

Holds onto her like he’s only a little afraid she’s going to fall off the wall, but now the wall is international competition, and Emma’s freaking out a little.

“I love you,” she says into the crook of his neck.

His arms tighten. “I love you too.” “Gold medal?” “Gold medal.” “Hit some home runs while I’m gone, huh?” Lips graze her temple. Her forehead. The bridge of her nose. Emma might be crying, and Mary Margaret’s definitely recording, a small mob of red white, and blue surrounding them. “I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises.

“Good.”

He hits three before her first qualifying round. So, Emma takes that as a challenge. She’s an athlete now.

It’s why, she figures, her fingers don’t slip on her first run.

Her feet are sure. Her breathing is steady. There’s no one cheering her name, but she’s long since memorized the exact way Killian’s voice lifts above a crowd. How he pushes up on his toes to watch, as if standing up taller makes sure he’s closer to her. Should she need him when she falls off the wall. Only, Emma doesn’t fall, and she’s got no intention of ever falling and—

Her laugh shudders out of her in a watery sort of way that makes the journalist still standing in front of her flinch ever so slightly. Twitter makes sure the video starts playing again as soon as it finishes, which is somehow the best and worst thing that has ever happened to her. Best because, well, Emma’s honestly not sure she’s ever seen her husband like this.

Worst because she’s very nearly goddamn crying. Again.

Bobbing on the balls of his feet in front of his locker, whoever’s recording the video — it’s Scarlet, obviously — is practically frenzied behind the camera, barely able to contain their laughter. Killian doesn’t notice. He’s holding his own phone, all five of his free fingers firmly entrenched in the back of his hair. It’s gotten softer with age, Emma thinks.

She can’t stop watching him.

Every inhale is a clear struggle, the bobbing turning into pacing and quiet mumbling she can hear perfectly. As if she’s standing right in front of him.

Or at least slightly to the side. So as not to stand on the logo in the middle of the clubhouse.

Athletes are notoriously superstitious, too.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Killian chants, another noticeable snicker from Scarlet, “right there, right there, and pull, pull—Swan, pull up!”

“I did pull up there,” Emma mumbles. To the reporter, maybe. Or the world. Possibly her husband. Who was definitely more nervous about the first run than her.

God, that’s romantic.

Killian’s still talking. Shouting, more like. It’s a miracle Scarlet hasn’t fallen over yet.

“Faster, faster, you can go faster than that, Swan—” Emma clicks her tongue. “That’s kind of insulting.”

There’s an appropriate titter of laughter from the peanut gallery, which is a joke she was not trying to make, but she’s also dangerously close to swooning in the middle of press and she should have asked the Yankees for media training. Someone would have made sure she didn’t make a total ass of herself.

“Show me the time,” Killian yells, another demand that isn’t that. It’s too wobbly a string of words to hold any real power, just the supportive sort of desperation Emma’s felt in a variety of ninth innings and series-clinching moments. “Faster! Faster!” “Talking to the time or the judges or your wife?” Scarlet asks.

Killian nearly snarls.

Emma blinks. Hyperactively. Crying is not usually her shtick. More camera flashes...flash, Emma barely noticing them with her eyes glued to a phone screen that isn’t hers because she at least knows not to bring her phone to a press conference, and she can only imagine how many text messages she’s gotten.

Even on the other side of the world.

They post the times.

She knows because Killian gets some rather impressive height on his celebratory vertical. Fingers abandoning his hair, his fist pumps the air, and Scarlet’s not laughing so much as he’s whooping, a steady stream of yeah, yeah, yeah in the background. And for about half a breath, Emma’s worried Killian may turn one of his ankles on his landing, but he’d think that was insulting, and she’s really just full-on swooning now.

“How many people have seen this?’ she asks the reporter, already knowing the answer.

The reporter smiles anyway. Emma should learn her name.

“Pretty much the whole world.” When Emma was a kid — the sort of kid who believed alone was better, and there was strength in singularity, that would have terrified her. Bowled her over, really. Left her running without looking back, desperate to shed any sort of notoriety because notoriety meant attention, and attention meant inevitable disappointment.

Maybe that’s why she was never much of a sports person.

Sports disappoint you. They build you up and let you down, a sharp and sudden fall without a safety net. But sometimes. Sometimes, every so often, something wonderful happens. Sports lift you. Right up an indoor wall. Because, she knows, sports’ power comes from belief, from surrendering yourself to something bigger and better, and she’s back on that alliterative kick, but the tears are barely clinging to her eyelashes now and Emma herself is bigger and better, now.

In an international, decidedly romantic sort of way.

The video’s playing away.

“Let’s go,” Killian cries, and there it is. Her sound and their sound, cheering across an ocean and time zones that are still kind of messing with her sleep schedule.

Emma’s smile stretches.

“Let’s go,” she repeats.

It ends, as with most things in Emma’s gold-medal-winning life, because Anna plans it.

Stepping out of the terminal, it takes less than a full breath for the cheers to start. For the banners to lift and the tears to flow, a small platoon of support covered in the sort of patriotic gear they definitely got from the Old Navy in Herald Square.

Flashes burst behind Emma’s eyelids because she’s got to blink or she’ll definitely fall over. Her legs wobble beneath her, contending against a wave of triumph and jubilation, which is sort of the same word, but they’ve got a game at the Stadium tonight, so she doesn’t expect, she just hopes and reaches, and he has to twist around both Anna and Mary Margaret.

It’s wonderfully cyclical.

As is the way Emma slams herself against him. On purpose, this time. Killian’s arms tighten, more cheers and shouts, and people a few feet away start chanting USA over and over. Emma barely hears them. Her feet aren’t touching the ground, so she’s kind of preoccupied.

They’re all arms and mouths, and her legs wrapped securely around a body that probably shouldn’t be supporting hers when she knows he slid into second two nights ago, but Killian clearly has no intention of letting her down, and the medal around her neck bumps against her rings.

“You’re a very good cheerleader; you know that?” He hisses. In what, Emma can’t imagine. Embarrassment, if the red tips of his ears are anything to go by, and she’s got ideas as to why that is and how long the conversation about social media with Scarlet went, so Emma does the only reasonable thing.

She slams her lips against her home-run hitting husband’s, doing her best to make sure the gold medal doesn’t mistakenly impale either one of them, and the world tilts again. With victory and sports-based support and the sort of love that comes from believing in something bigger.

And better than Emma could have ever imagined.

“I didn’t want to steal your thunder.”

“Please,” Emma scoffs, “don’t insult me like that. Plus, I’m claiming every one of those home runs as my own, so comparatively—” He kisses her before she can say anything else.

That’s for the best, probably.

“Your arms looked ridiculously good the whole time.”

Her laugh doesn’t even sound like her when Emma hears it played back — another video that someone tells her goes viral, only she doesn’t care about hits or site traffic, just about the particular shade of blue in Killian’s eyes, and she wears her medal to the game that night.

Because they’re a sports power couple, now.

Or so the New York Post back page claims the next day.

Emma frames it.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

lip sync your way into my heart

( @thecomfortofoldstorries and I got into a fun head-cannon debate last night about Tik Tok POVs and this is what happened)

--- Jaskier has never really been in the loop when it comes to social media. He was behind the curve when he made his Tumblr and he was two years late to sign up for Twitter. It’s no surprise that he finally downloads Tik Tok and makes an account several months after it’s become a viral platform.

That also means all the good usernames are taken; Jaskier types in @buttercup-bard, sees that it’s available, and calls it a day. This isn’t an app he’s going to care about. It’s just to waste time during his forty minute commute to and from campus. 

Alas, he has ADHD...and this shit is addictive.

Especially, he hates to admit, the thirst-trap hotties who do weird, obscure, edgy POV videos. Jaskier knows they’re aimed primarily towards teen and young adult women but he’s a red-blooded Redanian gay. He’s horny. He can watch a few POV Tik Toks on the bus and thirst after pretty boys with big muscles...as a treat.

By Jaskier’s second week of classes he’s found a definite favorite Tik-Tokker (is that what they’re called? Or is it influencer? Jaskier doesn’t care). The guy is gorgeous. He has beautiful honey-gold eyes and long, silvery-white hair; which is appropriate since his handle is @whitehairdontcare. He makes a wide range of content, too. Perfect for Jaskier’s Concerta-focused tastes. There are some dances here and there and some Q&A videos, but for the most part he does POVs. 

Jask and his roommates, Essi and Priscilla, have spent many happy hours poring over Mr. White Hair’s account, watching and re-watching their favorites from his vast repertoire of content. Essi loves his weird, edgy-boi shit. Stuff with titles like “POV: I fight the bully who insulted your haircut” or “POV: you make a deal with the devil for true love”. Stuff that Jaskier would have been into when he still listened to My Chemical Romance on the regular (okay, he still does, but don’t tell Essie). 

Priscilla is a huge fan of Tik Tok dances. She follows every challenge and ranks her favorites, compiling them into a YouTube series that’s more for her self-gratification than anything else. Mr. White Hair is generally towards the top of her list whenever he deigns to follow a trend that doesn’t involve badly applied makeup blood smears. The guy clearly works out and the definition of his body (and the movements of said really hot body) make the dances look so much more fluid and fun. Jaskier and Priscilla clearly share a brain-cell when it comes to appreciating Mr. White Hair’s hotness.

Jaskier’s favorites, of course, are the cute little POVs that lie scattered between all the edgy ones. Stuff made for the softies of Tik Tok. Stuff made for boys like Jaskier. “POV: I fix your car for you” is the one he’s probably re-watched the most. Mr. White Hair is lying on his back beneath a jacked-up blue car, oil smeared in a few strategic places on his face, chest, and arms. At the very end of the Tik Tok he moves the wrench out of the way of his face completely and winks directly into the camera.

Jaskier hates to admit it, even to himself, but no matter how many times he’s watched that stupid twenty-give second video, that wink drops his heart straight down into his shoes and fills his stomach with butterflies.

---

“Hey do you guys carry fake blood here?” an almost terrifyingly deep voice asks from behind him. Jaskier twirls around on his heel, Retail Smile firmly in place, and loses his shit the moment he sets eyes on his latest customer.

It’s Mr. White Hair.

Here. In the middle of the aisle of the Party City where Jaskier works every weekend. He’s either going to throw up or pass out or both. 

He doesn’t though. Instead, the Demon Lord of Retail possesses his body momentarily and nods, “Right over this way!” He leads the insanely attractive influencer over to the year-round section of Halloween FX makeup and gestures towards the shelf filled with various fake blood capsules, bottles, and packets. 

“Thanks,” Mr. White hair smiles. Jaskier nods again, silent, and drifts back towards the counter in a daze. He’s the only one on shift right now (it is not a very busy Party City) and he knows that he can’t pass out on the dirty tile floor or he’ll get fired (and perhaps tetanus). He just needs to power through the next few minutes and then he can crouch next to the helium tank and freak the fuck out.

But not until Mr. White Hair is gone.

Just as Jaskier is re-learning how to breathe normally, the sexy internet star makes his way towards the counter with an armful of products and the retail worker loses it again. Thank god for the ability to compartmentalize.

“So, just these for you?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem! I love your Tik Toks by the way,” Jaskier replies automatically. His eyes widen slightly. Why the fuck did I mention his Tik Toks!?

“Thanks,” the guy says and blushes. “I didn’t know they’d gotten so popular.”

“You have like two million followers?” Jaskier laughs. “I think that makes you pretty popular. Maybe even famous.”

“Oh yeah...right.” 

“Anyway, your total is going to be twenty-one fifty.”

Mr. White Hair pays and Jaskier bags all his fake blood, wondering the whole time exactly what kind of content he can look forward to seeing. More of Essi’s edgy shit, apparently. As he’s handing the plastic bag over the counter, Jaskier smiles and works up the courage to ask, “Is your hair naturally white? I don’t mean to pry, it’s just really pretty.”

Geralt’s face goes slightly pinker than before and he nods. “Yeah. Weird genetic thing. Thanks.”

“No problem. Right on,” Jaskier beams. “Well, it was nice meeting a famous person. Thanks for stopping in.”

“Thanks for helping me out,” the Tik Tokker replies. Jaskier watches him exit the store before ripping his phone from his pocket and dialing Essi. He needs to talk to her before he spirals into a giddy panic attack.

---

“Hey Jask have you seen that hot guy’s latest Tik Tok?” Priscilla asks, lounging across her futon like a queen. Jaskier looks up from his copy of The Collective History of Aedirnian Funeral Dirges and wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion.

“No, why?”

“You should go check your phone. I think you’ll be happily surprised.”

“Oh-kay,” Jaskier says, drawing out the ‘kay’ for as long as it takes him to get up from his seat on the floor and exit the room. He retrieves his phone from the charger in the kitchen and returns to Priscilla’s bedside. He opens his new favorite app and pulls up @whitehairdontcare’s page. There’s a new POV from earlier this morning and Jaskier taps on it. 

His eyes go round when he reads the caption: “POV: You’re the cute cashier at the Party City and I’m bad at flirting”. 

Mr. White Hair is staring into the camera with those beautifully golden eyes, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand while he lip syncs to whatever song is playing. He’s wearing a tight, navy blue v-neck and Jaskier can see the movement of every one of his ridiculously defined muscles as they flex. The silver wolf’s-head necklace Mr. White Hair always wears around his neck is in its usual place, dangling down between those perfect collarbones…

Jaskier takes a shaky breath and glances up at his friends, who are staring back at him with wide eyes. “It could be about anyone.”

“How many Party Cities do you think he went to yesterday?”

“I’m not going to get my hopes up,” Jaskier snorts. “He’s a social media influencer and I am one semester away from finishing my degree and my thesis. Why would he ever want to be with someone like me?”

Essi rolls her eyes and Jaskier goes back to his homework. 

---

Later that night, alone in his room, Jaskier plugs his earbuds into his phone and watches the Tik Tok over and over. He finds the song Geralt used and adds it to his Work Is Tough playlist, which he’s allowed to play over the loudspeakers at the store so long as he’s working a solo shift. 

He watches Mr. White Hair’s plush pink lips move around the words and dreams of kissing them someday, as far-fetched as that scenario is (because this video is definitely not for him, that’s impossible):

“My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me.

So won't you kill me, so I die happy.

My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or bury,

or wear as jewelry; whichever you prefer.”

Fucking Dashboard Confessional. Of course. One of Jaskier’s favorite bands from his emo days in middle school. If this really was for Jaskier, if this really was a legitimate attempt at online flirtation by Mr. White Hair himself, it was working.

 Jaskier buries his head in his pillow and sighs. 

[ivanttosuckyourserotonin]

Hating your body is something that is taught. I never really noticed my body until age 12. I was never comfortable in my body. I watched a lot of TV and read some of my mom's magazines and noticed (even at the age of 12) that my body wasn't perfect according to society's standards. It shocks me that a little girl was influenced by media that her small, growing body wasn't sexy or appealing to the male gaze. Girls as young as 10 are being praised to wear progressively more provocative clothing saying that they're "becoming comfortable with their sexuality." I feel like this has only gotten worse over the years now that the internet is becoming more and more accessible to people, especially younger children. There's nothing wrong with feeling comfortable in your clothing and your body. To me, there's nothing more exciting than a preteen girl starting to find her style and personality. This point in their lives is so pivotal to who they become as adults. Yet, people use this to nudge girls to wear things that a child wouldn't normally wear. Grown adults bully and shame children into forcefully making themselves lose weight. At the age of 14 is when I first started skipping meals. I would do so much exercise until my head felt light with nothing to fuel my body. I drank so much green tea I feel like the inside of my mouth always tasted bitter. This was the skinniest I had ever been in my life. I felt great on the outside. One day I was at the pool with my friends and I had picked out this really cute navy blue bikini. I felt like a celebrity. One of my friends pointed to my chest and shouted, "Oh my god why are your boobs so freaking big!?" Everyone laughed including me. They started taking photos of me without my knowledge or consent and sending them to a boy I liked. I found the photos and cried for two days. I didn't feel perfect anymore. I felt disgusting. That was the month I started wearing shirts and pants to the beach and shorts to the pool. I wore baggy sweaters over all of my shirts. I would only wear my dad's shirts. Every time I felt comfortable with my body I would get a comment about how I was showing off too much, or not enough. In 2016 I was prescribed 100mg sertraline and over the course of 6 months I gained significant weight as a side affect. This was one of the hardest lessons to learn in self love. I was once 110 lbs now I was 160lbs. To distract myself from my problems, I would express myself through makeup and hair. I experimented with fashion a lot more. Although I dealt with the inner struggle of not looking how I thought was perfect silently for years, I was slowly allowing my true self to show. Although I still struggle with body image, I've learned to be nice to my body because its done so much to help keep me alive. There are so many different types of bodies and I think that's beautiful. I continue to monitor what I look at on social media to not hold myself to a different standard. I wish I could go back in time and tell my younger self that she's beautiful and to keep doing the things that make her unique despite what others would say. Please remind other of how much you love them for being them.

[arigatouiris]

an inconvenient crush // kenma kozume x reader (1/2)

Author’s Note: A new story?? SO SOON?? Thank you for all the love for my previous Kuroo story, it meant the world to me. I write for myself primarily, yes, but it brings me SO MUCH JOY to know that my words reach you. It helps with the motivation to put them out more often. Thank you. This story is very close to my heart because I’m a gamer, although I don’t stream. I’m more like Kenma though, personality wise. Haha.

Word count: 5k+

Pairing: YouTuber! Kenma Kozume x Streamer! Reader

Summary: YouTuber Kozume Kenma has had the biggest crush on Twitch Streamer, (s/n) (y/n), who in actuality simps heavily after Kenma's secret YouTube persona, puddinghead0.

What happens when their paths cross?

Kuroo is honestly tired of Kenma's second-guessing, and (y/n) is a bit of a crackhead.

Warnings: unrequited love, one-sided crush, slight angst, pining, crackhead reader, internet bullying, slang, gaming references, haikyuu manga spoilers, fluff

C h a p t e r O n e : puddinghead0

Kozume Kenma suddenly turned existential when his eyes shifted to his phone screen for the 12th time in ten minutes.

Was he always doing this? Was he always obsessed with his phone to a point where he'd constantly check for notifications? Did this mean he was deeply lonely on the inside and wanted approval from people on a virtual platform, which meant that the approval was also virtual and none of it was real? Did it mean that he craved to nullify the growing void in his chest by distracting himself with a black mirror that showcased light that could permanently impair his sight?

He let out a breath and forced himself not to look at his phone. He didn't care. It didn't matter. That's what he always said.

    "Hey!" His classmate/room-mate screamed from the entrance to his flat, "Are you watching her stream? Posted two minutes ago!"

His phone was definitely slow. He had been checking his phone but there was no notification. Letting out a breath, and giving himself a mental reason to actually check his phone, Kenma opened the notifications tab to see the one notification he had kept his eye out for had been buried under ridiculous facebook notifs.

An inconvenient crush, that's what he told himself whenever he looked at you. You were a streamer, a bit different from what he did on YouTube because you were primarily on Twitch. There were reaction videos of you on YouTube, which was where he found you, but damn—how could one be pretty while rage-quitting a game? It was abnormal. Nothing about you was normal; college student/Twitch streamer, an apparent baker in your mother's bakery, game reviewer for Sony, and you were insanely cute.

    "She's getting to that part," his roommate commented from behind Kenma's back, while Kenma really just wanted to watch the video in peace, "Shit, she's gonna cry."

You did cry, quite a few times, and too easily if he could add. You cried at the ending of God of War, you cried to The Last of Us (which made sense, but you were perhaps just bawling throughout the entire game), you cried in a game called Detroit: Become Human, you cried far too easily, but you never really quit. He loved how passionate you were about games, and it was the sort of passion he could completely understand.

    "Oh shit," You said in the video, your eyes scanning all over the game screen, "What's happening? What's happening?"

Kenma chuckled at how cute you were, god, you were killing him. You looked worried, and he could visibly see a sweat drop on your forehead, but you were so focused that it didn't matter. Suddenly, there was a screaming sound from the game you were playing, and your eyes popped open as wide as they possibly could and you just sat there, unmoving. He loved how you never squealed or made any loud reactions, except when you were in a fight with a difficult boss, but whenever something traumatic happened, you just froze and sunk it all in. You were currently playing the second part of The Last of Us, and a traumatic scene was definitely happening. Kenma had just finished playing it the night before, so every scene you were playing was familiar.

    "I officially hate this game," You said, your voice breaking and he desperately wanted to hold you, "Fucking hell."

    "God, she's amazing." Kenma's roommate said, eyes turning into literal hearts.

    "Hm." Yeah, she is, Kenma thought, but could never really say.

As a YouTuber himself who streams games, he was aware that you were not as popular, and it was a fact that he really didn't like. Sure, you were on a less popular platform, but Twitch was incredibly popular by itself as well. He also understood the bias that came with being a female gamer, and while it sounded ridiculous to him, Kenma was one of those people who believed gaming required no gender.

He adored your content, and he secretly adored the hell out of you, so seeing you soar would only make him happy.

    "I... I can practically feel what pain she's feeling right now," You spoke about the game, a lone tear threatening to leak out of your eye, "But! We shall persevere. I've been waiting 7 years for this game, so I won't let... won't let something like this halt my interest. Let's see if this has a point to it all."

God, he adored you. But, Kenma considered it an inconvenient crush because of course, the world was small. The first big crush he has on someone and he hoped it would remain over the internet, but it just had to become something more tangible, something that could make him weak in the knees.

You, a college student/Twitch streamer, an apparent baker in your mother's bakery, a game reviewer for Sony, insanely cute, and also happened to be one of his YouTube channel's biggest fans.

He had only recently discovered your personal twitter handle, and dear lord, you were simping after him with no remorse. It wasn't as if he was all you talked about, but he had also noticed the trajectory of the games you were playing were on par with his own timeline. Kenma had finished his final stream for The Last of Us II just the night before and you had now started playing it. Right before that, it was Bloodborne, and before that, it was Final Fantasy VII Remake. However, your public handle was a lot more professional and despite knowing that it was there, he hadn't sent you a follow request because well, Kenma called himself an introvert in every matter but Kuroo just said he was shy.

While he knew that he could easily approach you and have you know he knew of your existence, Kenma preferred not to get into such detail. It was comfortable admiring you from afar, and it was comfortable being where he was—he had his company to work hard over, he was also a computer student and a YouTuber. Sure, he had his hands full especially after calling you abnormal for something that he himself was doing, but he never really fit into a bracket anyway. Kenma's latent obsession with you was something he wasn't particularly proud of and this wasn't because it had anything to do with you, but simply because he didn't want to make a big deal out of it. Change, in many ways, scared him. And by changing the structure or dynamics of him admiring you in secret, while you admired him not so secretly, Kenma was certain that it might not lead where he may have wanted it to go.

Surely, Kuroo was against this sort of caution, calling it cowardly and saying it lacked passion; but Kenma knew it was just a crush. There was no way he could deduce the kind of person you were based on how you gamed or reacted to games, based on the little tid-bits of information you gave out while playing those games, or even how you openly spoke about how much you admired 'puddinghead0's videos. Kenma hated Kuroo for giving him that name, but he was too lazy to come up with a new one.

    "Also," You sprung up in the final two minutes of your latest video, "I'm on Patreon, now! I honestly have no idea how it works, but if you really like the content I make and want to support me, you can become a patron and wish me luck!"

Kenma waited for his stupid roommate to go out of his room before he could open Patreon and find your link, which was thankfully in the description. Without a second thought, he donated to your profile but cussed instantly when he realized what he had done.

He had sent you a donation as himself, as 'puddinghead0's Patreon.

Without a second thought, Kenma called Kuroo and explained what had happened.

    "That is why, Kenma, you need to check a thousand times and not let blind love navigate your actions—"

    "If I knew you were going to spout such nonsense I wouldn't have called you."

He could hear Kuroo snicker while he ran a hand through his hair. Kenma groaned before Kuroo said, "How bad is this, Kenma? She'll be happy. Of course, this means she'll know you watch her content, but how bad can this be?"

    "I didn't want her to know."

    "And leave her devoid of the happiness of having her idol appreciate her content? You're cold, Kenma."

    "You don't understand. What if... What if she tries to contact me?"

    "You, my friend, have not even shared your personal account anywhere. The only way she can contact you is by commenting on your videos, which I am sure you check constantly to see if she did comment, or Tweeting, which she does every three days."

Kenma blushed at the accusation because it was true.

    "She won't know who you are. Besides, there's no harm if she even does contact you! Just tell her casually that yeah, you like her contact. I don't see what the big deal is."

    "Of course you don't—"

    "Oh, she's tweeted something."

Kenma's entire body froze. Leaving Kuroo on the call, Kenma opened Twitter on his laptop and there it was, your latest tweet.

I am trying NOT to freak out over puddinghead sending me a donation on Patreon, pls save my soul, I am dead.

Kenma groaned before hearing Kuroo laugh once more, "She's adorable!"

I know that, Kenma thought before feeling his entire face flash up. Ending Kuroo's call, Kenma looked at your public profile before then moving to your personal one. He wasn't following that one either, but he wanted to see your tweets, he wanted to know more about you—he wouldn't deny any of these facts, but Kenma believed it was far too idiotic to dream of getting to know you through a virtual media. He wasn't even the sort of person to become close to people he met in real life, how could he allow himself a virtual friendship?

The thought staggered him, and the idea behind it was what kept him at bay. Kenma wanted to know about you, talk to you, learn about who you were and what you were doing, but he felt the media that connected you was what separated you.

It wasn't cowardice at all if he was just sticking to the facts and being real.

*

The next day, Kenma walked to his class by himself, listening to the latest podcast by Joe Rogan. While the external sound wasn't entirely muted, Kenma could discern sounds of people talking, cars moving around, and other noises even though he was playing the podcast on full sound. However, there was one sound in particular that stood out. Kenma paused before turning to his right, noticing a crowd of people had gathered there, with some sort of event going on. He didn't pay attention to half the events that his college conducted, his mind was obviously quite busy elsewhere, but when the announcer moved around in a weird Joker cosplaying outfit, Kenma was a tad bit intrigued.

Was it gaming related?

He slowly moved toward the crowd before finally being able to hear what the anchor was saying.

    "We've got prizes for the top three best performers, and one of the participants is the one and only (s/n) (y/n), streamer from Twitch!"

Kenma froze, half-minded to run the hell away from there. But, it seemed as if his feet were stuck to the ground. How had he not known this? Didn't you always announce the events you go to? Why were you suddenly here? A second later, he spotted you, hair put up in an updo, a plain black tee, and regular jeans. You were smiling, but some part of that smile seemed a bit hesitant.

    "We will be playing a bit differently today! Instead of the usual Fortnite battles or Apex Legends, we'll be going went and battling out on Red Dead Online! And of course, if you beat (y/n) here you earn bragging rights!"

He noticed you shift in your position a little bit, clearly uncomfortable with the attention you were getting; it didn't even look like you wanted to be there. Kenma could feel his chest hurt, and his palms were sweating now. That's all it is, he told himself. An inconvenient crush, an inconvenient crush, that's all.

Kenma sighed before noticing how he barely knew anyone there and was almost thankful for that fact; but before he could thank his stars, a hand threw itself around his neck and sprung him forward, earning the attention of not just everyone there, but especially you.

    "We have our first participant," It was his goddamn roommate, "Kenma's a brilliant gamer!"

Kenma's eyes immediately found yours, and you were looking at him with wide, confused eyes. Although this was set in the open and the atmosphere was quite cold, Kenma felt nothing but warmth radiating all over his body at the mere sight of you; you were just a few feet away, and you were giving him a rather sympathetic expression, and god, you looked so fucking pretty—

    "That's great! Sign up, ya'll! Winner will be winning a brand new DualShock 4!"

Oh fuck, Kenma thought before he felt his heart beginning to pound. He was now seated beside you, and he could practically shrink into non-existence. You were unmoving, and you weren't looking at him, but would you have looked at him if you knew he was puddinghead? Insecurity swarmed his being and he could practically feel steam escaping his ears but a moment later, he thought he'd die.

    "This was so last minute," you said, rubbing the back of your neck, "The anchor's my cousin and she's so demanding."

    "Oh," Kenma said, feeling his heartbeat skyrocket, "I see."

    "Yeah! I mean," You giggled now, "I'm not even good at Red Dead Online!"

Kenma smirked, knowing the fact already. You struggled with Red Dead Redemption not because you were bad, but because you couldn't progress with a plot so divisive. You wanted to explore more, and since the game was so vast, you barely bothered with the Online version. You turned to him now and tilted your head.

    "You're a gamer, I heard? Kozume-kun, right?"

Fuck, she knows my name, "Y-Yeah. I game when I'm free."

    "Do you have a Twitch or YouTube?"

There's no fucking way I'll answer that, "No—"

    "Ah, you must really be having a great time then."

Kenma blinked before turning to you with confusion. What did you mean?

    "Don't you enjoy streaming?"

    "Ah, no, no," You flailed your hands shyly, and Kenma believed he could combust, "It's not like that. I just think, after a point, streaming becomes more for the fans than for yourself. I used to do it for me, but now... I'm needed in places like this for promotion, and I need to have a Patreon if I'm popular or it'll look weird, I don't know... Too many restrictions. I just love gaming, you know?"

Kenma found himself smiling, "Yeah, I know. I've seen your videos."

    "Oh?"

Kenma's eyes widened. He wanted to slap himself on his forehead.

    "I—I mean, y-you're popular."

    "Thanks! You're really sweet, Kozume-kun!"

Fucking hell, Kenma placed a hand on his forehead, She's too cute.

    "Say," you said, a sly tone to your voice, "Do you want to get out of here?"

    "I'd do anything." Kenma honestly agreed.

But, you couldn't just up and leave. You were called here as Twitch streamer (s/n) (y/n), and that meant your behavior was restricted. As much as you seemed to hate said restriction, Kenma was certain that you wouldn't go against it. It could take a big blow against your viewership, and you wouldn't take that chance.

A second later, your hand gripped his wrist before you shot him a wink. Kenma's heart jumped to the skies before you pulled him away from the crowd, with participants lining the entrance to enter their names. Sure, you were doing something bad—your cousin wanted you there, but not once had she even asked if you wanted to be a part of this event. Just as Kenma was pulled in without his consent. You weren't a competitive gamer, and you were not going to be, even if it was for someone else. After running away a fair distance, Kenma felt the part of his wrist burn right where you were touching him.

    "I think I need to run more in real life and not just as Ellie." You said, and Kenma chuckled.

    "Running's good."

    "I used to run track," You said, turning to him. "Now I run in games and that's it."

You have no right being that cute, he thought before clearing his throat. He slowly pulled away from you, which made your eyes widen before shooting him an apologetic smile. He was a bit confused as to what you had done, did this mean you didn't care about losing followers?

    "You might think that I've committed career suicide," You scoffed, "Honestly, this is the bravest I've been in so long."

    "What do you mean?"

You shrugged, "Ever since I became a bit popular by streaming, I've just... I could feel myself change with the way my viewers wanted me to be? I don't blame them or anything, I just think that the love I get from them makes me yearn for more. And that yearning leaves me... inept to be myself. It's the downside of wanting to remain popular, I guess."

    "It's not like you can't be yourself and still be popular." Kenma added.

    "Yeah I know," You said, "I mean, just look at puddinghead0, we don't even know what he looks like, and wow. I adore his content."

Kenma froze once more. Was this being recorded? Did Kuroo finally tip you off and was this being filmed for his reaction? Whatever it was, he wasn't going to reveal to you now.

    "Y-Yeah, I think he just doesn't care."

    "I wish I was more like that because I end up caring. I like the comments and the views and the love. Agh, it's such a weird complex moral question. Don't even get me started."

Kenma laughed at your reaction before you turned to him and stuck a tongue out. Kenma rolled his eyes before waving a hand at you.

    "If anything," Kenma said, looking at the ground, "You didn't lose this follower today."

Your eyes widened at his statement. You smiled before nodding, and let out a chuckle.

    "Thank you, Kozume-kun."

*

Locking the door to his room, Kenma began to edit for his latest video. He was making a review for The Last of Us 2, but his mind was elsewhere. He still hadn't told Kuroo that he had met you, which would only cause the black-haired man to tease him relentlessly. Letting out a sigh, he felt sleep douse his eyelids as he continued the edit, right before a notification popped up on his phone.

It was you.

He narrowed his eyes before checking the date and time; it was unusual for you to stream live on random days. He'd learned your pattern by now. You'd been doing this for a couple of months, and it was quite easy for him to know just when and what time you'd begin. However, the screen for The Last of Us 2 was open and you looked like you had just stopped crying. His heart broke at the sight, and he instantly closed the tabs to his own edit, before opening your video on his monitor. You were taking deep breaths before chuckling.

    "Hello to everyone that's still with me," You sounded so broken, Kenma felt helpless as he continued staring at you, "You might be wondering why I'm... yeah. So, I did something and I guess I got punished for it? I was forced into a game contest and I think walking out of it made some of my followers mad. I even spoke to this other person about walking out and honestly, it didn't hit me then that what puddinghead's doing takes a lot of courage."

    "Ah, fuck, (y/n)," Kenma groaned.

    "I guess even when I expected to lose followers, I didn't expect the hate? Some of the comments were just... nasty. I..." You sniffed, "...I didn't expect that you would hate on someone for making a personal choice? And I didn't do it to offend anyone, I seriously don't know how the internet works. Oh, oh wow—" You looked troubled and Kenma could see why. "—losing out on viewers now, great. 'Don't be a whiny bitch', 'This is why girls shouldn't game'..."

You took a deep breath before calming down and saying the few words Kenma feared you might eventually come around to say.

    "This is (y/n), signing off to a world where gaming is appreciated and is not filled with a community of hate. Hope to see you there."

And the stream ended.

Kenma sighed before leaning back, no thought in his head. He knew for a fact that his room-mate must have seen the stream as well, and Kuroo would be calling him about the entire ordeal just to ensure he had something to say about it. Kenma, on the other hand, felt like he had practically pushed you to make this decision and partly felt like taking the blame, despite the common sense telling him that he had nothing to do with it. You weren't the sort of person who would jump at something without a second thought, and even if he didn't know you personally, he had been following you and your streams for months now. It felt like he knew that part of you quite well.

Kuroo was the first to call. Kenma stared at the phone for a bit before letting out a breath and getting back to editing his video. He only had to add commentary, and his mind was already circling on what to say.

Uploading the video took him exactly two more hours, after having missed three calls from Kuroo and twelve messages. At one point, Kuroo had even stopped contacting Kenma, thinking he was busy with something, and he was spot on. Kuroo's eyes wandered on the new notification about his friend's YouTube channel, which was weird considering it was not yet time for him to post something. He knew quite well that Kenma might have definitely seen (y/n)'s stream, and wanted to desperately talk to him about it, but without a clue of what the boy was thinking, Kuroo simply clicked on the notification and let the video play out.

It was the review for the game, The Last of Us 2, and Kuroo knew while giving the review, which was around 8-9 minutes, Kenma would speak his thoughts that were a tad bit uncensored toward the end. He'd talk about the drama surrounding the game, he would even bring up the entire hate that this game was receiving, but instead—Kenma had a rather strange dialogue instead.

    "One thing I don't understand is how toxic the gaming community can be, at times," Kuroo paused, narrowing his eyes at his friend's words, "While we welcome new gamers to the entire journey of learning and discovering the joy of gaming, we also tend to put them down if they didn't adhere to a certain trend. I came across one such incident happening to (s/n) (y/n)'s Twitch channel."

    "Holy shit!" Kuroo sat up straight, eyes wide as saucers at the bold move his friend made.

    "I'm part of this community and I think I have the right to call out how toxic we are in general," 

Kenma's voice didn't even waver, but after knowing him his entire life, Kuroo could deduce that the boy was a bit angry, 

"(y/n) didn't particularly do anything wrong, and she's received some nasty comments about being a female gamer, and I think that's...just disgusting. She has all the right to either attend or ditch a gaming event, and no one has to be forced to do something they don't want to do. We all have games we don't like despite being gamers, we don't have to do it all. I support (y/n), and I'll admit, I'm saddened by how her fans have treated her. Her content is great and I have immense respect for her. I hope she decides to come back and stream more. That being said, I think The Last of Us 2 is..."

As he got around to talk more about the game, Kuroo knew that this was a huge step for Kenma, and he had no idea what suddenly made the boy rethink his entire decision on never bringing her up. Now that he had, he's indirectly initiated a conversation with her, she'd definitely try and reach out now—in any way she possibly could, just to thank him at least.

Kuroo noticed his phone ringing a second later and a grin made its way to his lips.

    "What just happened?"

    "I met her, Kuroo," Kuroo almost had the wind knocked out of him, "She was at my college campus. I was walking back to my room since classes were canceled. There was some sort of gaming event. She didn't want to be a part of it, and neither did I, and we ditched. It was—"

    "You like her more now, don't you?"

When Kuroo received nothing more than silence from Kenma's end, he was certain. His precious, introverted, best boy had fallen for someone. It was a proud moment, almost.

    "You have to tell her—"

    "Kuroo, this... this is all I want to do."

    "That's bullshit, and even you know that."

    "What? You want me to open up to her and tell her I'm the YouTuber she's been gushing about for so long and I was the one who kind of pushed her into doing what she did, and so that she can hate me afterward for hiding the truth because I wouldn't be losing out on anything and she—"

    "Whoa there, Kenma. I'm just saying go talk to her as her favorite YouTuber. You're overthinking this."

    "No, you're underthinking this. I did what I had to do. It was... hard to see her like that."

Kuroo let out a sigh but before he could say anything, Kenma had already ended the call. That boy needs to grow a pair, he thought, a bit annoyed at Kenma's nature of avoiding his feelings. While Kenma believed it was for the best, he knew he was simply running away from it. Kuroo knew his friend adored (y/n), but the boy couldn't categorize that as real feelings because he's met her just once. Finding something real virtually scared him more than finding something real in real life, and while Kuroo wanted to understand that, it only annoyed him because Kenma wasn't even trying.

When you watched puddinghead0's recent video, you were jaw-dropped in awe and absolute admiration. Tears filled your eyes, but what was more was how his voice now seemed a tad bit familiar, though you didn't pay any heed to it since you've been following this channel for an entire year now. It moved you to know someone you've been admiring has been watching your content, but at the same time, he was speaking up for you? You wanted to thank him, you wanted to send him a message and say you were incredibly grateful for what he's done and the only way you knew you could say something was on Twitter.

So you mentioned him on a tweet and poured your heart out within character limit. You wondered if he would notice your tweet since you've mentioned him countless times before, but even if he didn't, even if he paid you no heed after all of this, you were still grateful. However, a second later, you received a new follower. You blinked upon noticing that it was Kozume-kun from the other day. A soft smile fell on your lips at the soft recollection of running away from a gaming event, after which everything spiraled, but you didn't in any way blame him. Your mind again drifted back to puddinghead0 and you sighed.

I'd kill to see him, man, you thought, eyeing your tweet of him dreamily.

A second later, there was a notification. You almost spat out your heart at the mere words: puddinghead0 likes your tweet.

puddinghead0 likes your tweet.

puddinghead0 likes your tweet.

    "Oh my god—" You choked on air. However, a second later, you found it difficult to remain sitting on your bed.

Don't thank me, I hope you're feeling better. You didn't deserve any of that.

Is that a—

...deserve any of that. <3

Fuck me.

Kenma almost dozed off in class right before it ended. It wasn't like it was school where the teacher would wake him up after noticing him asleep, no one really bothered. Kenma was pushed awake by the momentum of the class once it was over and he leaned back before gathering his things. Tightening his hair tie, he casually walked out of class and got to the campus. He spotted the event area, where the gaming event had occurred and instantly spotted his room-mate and a bunch of people gathered there. Rolling his eyes, he walked away from there, not wanting to gather any attention.

    "Kenma!"

He had failed. Kenma froze to his spot before turning to spot his room-mate dashing over to him, a wide grin plastered on his features. Wrapping a hand over Kenma's shoulders, his roommate brought him to the others he was talking to, before releasing him.

    "You're that guy (y/n) ran away with during that event, right?" One of them asked, and Kenma didn't bother to respond.

    "Why did she run though? I mean, it doesn't make sense for her to just up and leave."

    "I've been telling you," The same guy said, "She's not the one playing those games. She's just the face."

Kenma frowned. What is this dick talking about?

    "Man, I think that's harsh," His roommate said, "I just think she's too chicken to play in front of people—"

    "She's literally a streamer." Kenma said, rolling his eyes.

    "Yeah, but why did she—"

    "If you can't understand that she doesn't owe you shit, then there's no helping it. She didn't want to play at that event, and she didn't. I don't see why you aren't calling me a fake gamer for running too." Kenma snapped.

The others shrugged, "That's because we've seen you play—"

    "It's bullshit." Kenma said before walking away. You all are bullshit, he thought before the frown on his face settled into an uncharacteristic glare, directed at what who knows what.

A moment later, he felt his phone buzz with a notification. Kenma opened his phone and saw that he had a message from you, but what confused him was—

The message was directed to Kenma and not puddinghead. His heart jumped as his fingers roamed over the notification, wanting to open it only when he was in the comfortable confines of his room. Swallowing the bubbling anxiety, Kenma fought the urge to smile as he continued walking back, unaware of what the Twitter message could be. It would normally take him around 12 minutes to get to his apartment from campus, but that day, Kenma merely took 7.

On reaching his room, he finally allowed himself to open your message.

(y/n): Hey! I've taken a break from streaming for now, just wanted to let you know. I don't know why I'm sending you this message, but talking to you that day made me realize that I don't really need to seek approval constantly. Also, puddinghead liked my tweet and I'm a bit too happy so I needed to gush, don't @ me

Kenma chuckled, feeling his heart jump at every word you'd said. He knew you didn't realize that you were gushing about him to him, but that didn't matter. He wanted to gush about you too. He felt a stone stuck at his throat at how real all of this felt, despite having only seen you once.

Kenma Kozume: I think he's the sort of guy who isn't too loud about the things he likes. And I think a break is a good idea, (s/n).

(y/n): Call me (y/n), came the immediate response. Kenma's eyes widened at the fact that you were online, and that the two of you were currently exchanging messages live.

(y/n): Yeah, I got the feeling from his videos that he's perhaps a private person. I'm still really glad that he supported me, I can't thank him enough. I'm feeling much better already!

Kenma smiled, I'm glad that you are.

(y/n): Also

He blinked.

(y/n): Do you want to co-op at Bloodborne? I'm trying to get a platinum, haha.

    "Fuck," He let out a breath before chuckling uncharacteristically. "You can't be serious."

(y/n): I'll send you my PSN, and you can add me as a party member. Only if you're up to it, I mean.

Kenma Kozume: Sure, sounds like fun. Also

Kenma gulped. He felt like this was showing off, but he didn't care. He was going to say it.

Kenma Kozume: I already have platinum in Bloodborne. :)

(y/n): Ah, screw you.

Kenma chuckled. He wouldn't admit it, but his heart was hammering against his chest and his palms were sweating. Soon, he'd be connected to you via the DualShock and the two of you would be co-oping in a game that was designed to make players fail. He wasn't too sure how much more his heart was going to take, and while he knew he had to tell someone, for some reason, Kenma wanted to keep this a secret. It wasn't because he was ashamed or he didn't want anyone to find out.

It was simply because it was too good to be true, and he didn't want to lose out on a chance to get to know you more. Because, if this kept up...

If this kept up, Kenma was surely going to fall in love with you.

[yoonia]

Mistakes and Retakes (M)

↳ Characters / Pairings | Kim Seokjin x reader

↳ Genre | Enemy to Lovers!au, smut, fluff, a bit of angst if you squint a little

↳ Word count | 18,5k words

↳ Summary | You hate to admit it, but making bad decisions and being reckless seems to be your forte. From saying yes to a last-minute meeting to ignoring your father’s warning about driving late at night on a slippery road. As if you haven’t gotten enough bad luck already, your high school nemesis decides to be a hero and comes to the rescue. Santa must have placed you in his naughty list for a dire punishment before Christmas.

↳ Author’s Note | A slight rom-com fic for Christmas, if you will. I had fun writing this but I do hope everyone would love it just the same.

↳ Warning | explicit sex scene, unprotected sex, a slightly unhygienic outdoor sex (please be safe, kids), portrayal of childhood bullying, mentions of/implied characters’ nude pictures.

↳  Part of the Stranded For Christmas Collab

↳ Music Companion | Not There - Zoey Lily, Indigo Svn

↳ Cross-posted | Inkitt | AO3 

Under any normal circumstances, you probably wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t be driving through the long winding country road cutting through the forest so late at night just the night before Christmas Eve.

You would have gotten yourself an early morning ticket on a domestic flight or probably take a train instead. And you would have probably already been lounging in your family’s cabin, eating some homemade chocolate chip cookies that your Mom usually makes on holidays, instead of sitting behind the steering wheels, fighting off drowsiness and boredom from the long drive.

Travelling back home on your new car was not so much of your initial plan at all. But neither was agreeing to an urgent last-minute meeting at the office which had led you to miss a chance on getting a ticket ride home. You dub yourself more as a people pleaser, which was the only reason why you were unable to say no. Though as you are looking back to it now, as you are driving your car through the dark path still miles away from home, you are starting to question yourself whether or not it had been truly worth it.

Your hands grip the steering wheel tightly as you look up ahead on the empty road, focusing on the icy parts that are sparkling under the car’s headlights. You are not as familiar with this road as you do with the routes you go through daily back in the city. It has been a rare occasion for you to drive home this way and the darkness around you is making it harder to see and be sure that you are indeed going in the right direction.

“It’s just you and me, Buddy,” you mutter softly as you look down on your navigation system, giving it a few taps as if it would help nudge the thing back alive from being stuck on one point. “Just as long as you can come back online again, then we’re good.”

Getting further down the road, your GPS system has been losing transmission that it is starting to lag. All you have been seeing on the map is a long, straight road, and the dot that marks your location is still blinking at the part of the route you have left behind had an hour ago. With only thick lines of trees on both sides of the track, no streets signs, shops, or intersections appearing to you yet, you could only hope that you have yet to stray out of the route heading home or miss out on any turns that you are supposed to take.

Getting impatient, you press your foot down on the gas pedal and let the car accelerates forward to get you out of the dark woods. You are hoping that you can get some working internet transmission somewhere around the next intersection heading into town.

For a split second, while you are trying to ignore the eerie feeling growing in your chest from being surrounded by the dark woods, your mind wanders off to remind you of your father’s words about your reckless driving and what he had said to you when you told him about your plans to drive home.

"Drive carefully."

"Don't drive so carelessly! Pay attention to the road."

"Are you sure you want to drive in that tiny city car of yours? Can't you just ride a bus home? It’s not safe to drive so late, go in the morning.“

"Change your tires before winter comes.”

As if fate has it, just as you turn the car to follow the path as the road curves to the right, the tires slide against the frozen asphalt, sending your car tumbling out of control and skirting off of its path. You slam on the breaks to make it stop, yet it only throws the car into a spin as the road goes downhill, before landing itself in the ditch on the side of the road.

You can only sit there in silence as everything stops spinning, feeling your heart hammering in your chest from the shock. Trying to calm yourself down, you take a deep breath before clambering out of the car and walk around, checking to see if you can find any visible damage and how bad you are stuck.

After studying the awkward angle your car is in as it is lying on the ditch, you step back inside and crank the engine back to life. Once again keeping your father’s image in mind, you try to remember his lessons about how to get yourself out of this kind of trouble. You start trying to maneuver the car slowly up the embankment, moving it inches at a time until you get the car into position to push it off of the ledge and back up on the road.

Applying the gas slowly, you start leading the car to climb up the bank while increasing the pressure on the gas pedal as you go. You keep following the steps calmly, until you hear a sound that makes your heart sink down to your stomach—the sound of the tires spinning. Taking your foot off the gas, you switch the gear to reverse the car, hit on the gas again, only to have nothing happening. Unwilling to give up, you switch on the gear forward and hit the gas again. And nothing. Switching the gear backwards, you hit the gas again, repeating them a few more times, yet the only thing you keep getting is the sound of the tires spinning and the car not even moving an inch.

“Fuck it!” you cry out while beating your hands against the steering wheel. Grabbing your purse, you search for your phone, hoping to be able to call for help. Yet just like the deadbeat blinking you were getting on your GPS, there is no reception on your phone to make any call.

Falling back in your seat, you can only cry out helplessly when you realise the situation you have gotten yourself in. You are indeed, completely stuck.

“Why me?”

Either you have been struck with a string of bad luck or if you are simply being punished for being such a terrible decision maker, the unfortunate event does not stop there.

As if getting your car stuck in a ditch is yet to be enough of a trial, you slipped down the slope when you were climbing your way to the main road. One missed step was met with an icy ground as you scrambled up the side of the ditch and you were sent falling back down, leaving you with a coat and a pair of jeans that are now completely soaked with snow, a sore hip, and a possible sprained ankle.

You dread the fact that you are nowhere closer to the nearest town and that you have not seen any other car passing by so far that you could flag down for help. Standing at the side of the road, you lean down to check on your ankle first before whipping out your phone from your pocket. There is no visible injury or swelling on your throbbing ankle—not yet, at least—a fact that you are relieved to see, yet it means nothing when there is still no reception on your phone for you to call for help or send any news home.

Looking both ways down the road, you find the road completely void of cars. It is already extremely late in the night and your hope of getting any help is slowly waning thin.

You still have miles away to reach the family cabin, a journey which would have taken you another hour or two with your car. The next town is much closer, yet even if you bother to try to walk the distance, whether it is down the long empty road or looking for a shortcut through the trees, you know for sure that you wouldn't make it all the way there by foot until past midnight.

Especially not with this ankle.

You are not completely sure if it would be safe to leave your car and your luggage out in this place either.

“Damn it.”

You choose to walk anyway, figuring that you may still have a chance to either get a reception somewhere along the way or find a ride on the nearest intersection ahead. Moving carefully on the side of the road, you pay close attention on your cellphone while trying to make sure that you wouldn't slip on frozen ground or strain your ankle further.

You have managed to walk a few meters away from your car, hobbling on your way until you nearly give up and turn back around when there is no building or lights on sight. Suddenly, the thought of just staying inside your car to keep yourself warm sounds a lot nicer than having to walk through the cold and into the dark woods.

It is at that moment when you hear it, the sound of a car engine, or a truck, coming from behind you. Turning around, you see a pair of headlights coming towards you, steadily moving on the ice-covered road in the distance.

“Oh my God, thank you,” you mutter with a sigh. You are both relieved and in despair as you lift your hand, hoping that the driver would care enough to stop for you.

Maybe you could ask for a ride, or borrow their tools to pull your car out of the ditch so you can carry on with your journey home.

As the vehicle slows down the more it gets closer to you, it is finally becoming clear that it is indeed an old pick-up truck which you would normally see in the farms around town, letting you know that it is probably a local. Whoever it is, you can feel your heartbeat settling down with relief when the truck comes to a stop right in front of you. Maybe you could finally be saved.

The driver lowers the window on their passenger seat and you lean closer to speak, only to have chill running down your spine when the driver leans towards you, letting you see his face up close through the dark interiors of his truck.

"Well, now. If it isn't the beautiful city girl, miss _____. What are you doing out here so late, woman?” he says so cheerfully, his eyes carry a glint of recognition and mischief while his lips—still the plum and sexy pair that you had once adored and hated—are grinning wide for you.

Fuck. Maybe the whole holiday season is cursed, after all.

You have stopped believing that angels and good fortune existed since many years ago. And if there is anyone in this world to blame for it, then you would point your finger on one person only.

Kim Seokjin.

The pride of the town, now farming business extraordinaire ever since the day he took over his family’s farmlands, the model student at school, the golden boy of the track club, parents’—and apparently, starting some time since his puberty, also women’s—favourite, and your childhood bully.

He was a total jerk to you back in school.

For some reason, he had found the pleasure of rubbing you off the wrong way since you were kids and had made your life miserable for your entire teen life.

From throwing worms, bugs, and small frogs at you when you were kids, to tugging your hair when you started growing them out and putting them up into ponytails and french braids every summer in mid-school. What took the cake was what he did to you back in high school. There is a reason why you had cut all contacts to nearly everyone from school since the day you graduated and he was the one who gave you just the perfect reason for it. You have even dreaded going to school reunions to the fear that people would bring up all the past events. Or even worse, call you by the very same nickname he had given you that had spread like haywire within less than a day and lasted until the very last week before graduation.

Just thinking about everything has your stomach churning and your blood boiling hot. It is just unfortunate that the latter is still not enough to give you warmth as you continue the slow walk down the road while fighting off the cold.

And the stubbornly handsome lad? Oh, he is still there, following you close with his truck while shouting through the window with all the snarky comments he could think of as if it would get you to hop into his truck and spend the rest of the journey sitting next to him until you reach town.

“I can understand if you were homesick for being in the city so long, but I didn’t expect to see you walking your way back home,” he says, snickering to himself as if he had just said the funniest thing ever while you keep the permanent scowl on your face as you stay silent. “Feeling adventurous, are we?”

You snap a look at him and instantly regret it.

Sure, the man is gorgeous and good to look at, but does it matter when he is the devil himself? You are half ready to run back to your car, opting to hoist it out of the ditch yourself if only you could or just sleep inside it until it would be possible for you to get any kind of help in the morning. Grunting, you hate the fact that neither is possible to do and it would be ridiculous to just walk back and sleep on the side of the road.

Speaking of your car, your heart lurches to your throat as you remember that you still have your belongings left behind and you would certainly need to get them one way or another if you are going to leave this area. Eyeing the truck beside you, you wonder if it would be strong enough to pull the car out of the ditch.

But that only means you would be asking this jerk a favour. And it will require you to actually talk to him. Not to mention that you have no doubt he would use this sometime later against you. You just know that he would.

He keeps rambling on while the wheels in your head keep turning, and before you can think better of it, you start talking to him, only to make him stop blabbering about some stupid things. Something about the woods, wild animals, and being frozen in the woods.

"Why are you even around here, anyway?" you ask him without looking as you keep on walking, holding back from asking him the real question hanging on your tongue—’Why does it have to be you?’

"Umm, for starters, I do live around the area. Not everyone had the big dreams of leaving the small town to be a big hotshot working behind desk jobs, you know?” He comments so lightly without noticing how much his words feel more like a jab to you. Pursing your lips, you glance sideways to see his eyes softening, as if he regrets saying something that may resemble a call out for your wish to leave the town as soon as possible the moment you graduated years ago. Clearing his throat, Seokjin continues to speak, “I was just coming back from a neighbouring town to drop some goods and buy some supplies before the road would be closed off for the thick ice and snow. The shops will be closed until after the New Year. I'd hate to be stranded on the farm all through the holidays without supplies to help me get through the cold."

You listen to him without saying a word or responding to him. Not only because you couldn’t care less about his daily activities or to his survival needs, but because you also need to focus on your legs more. You have been trying to walk normally to hide and ignore the pain on your ankle, and it is getting even harder now as the cold is starting to seep deeper into your skin through the wet patches on your jeans.

“Are you back to ignoring me again?” Seokjin asks you when he is not getting any reaction from you.

A little annoyed for having to hear his voice again, you only reply him with, “I’m trying to convince myself that you are merely a figment of my imagination just to keep me company. You are not really here and I’m just listening to some wind trying to be you.”

“______, Come on. This road is highly deserted. I don’t know if you have been paying close attention, but nobody passes here once it gets dark. I can’t promise you that you will have another chance of getting help once I drive off,” he says after groaning in despair, no doubt already losing his patience for your attitude. ”Now, will you please get on the truck? Let me help you. Fuck, I can drive you to town, at least.”

You are tired, stressed, and in pain, and the answer is hanging right at the tip of your tongue. Yes, absolutely. Take me away from this dreadful place, please.

But as you remember how much you hate him and that he is the enemy, your mouth betrays you by saying, “No."

All of a sudden, Seokjin hits the breaks and the truck comes to a sudden halt. The sound made by the tires against the icy road and the jolt of movement causes you to stop walking, and you end up looking at him with wide eyes.

"Please, ____. You are completely soaked and I know that at least one of your legs is hurting."

Furrowing your brows, you begin to question why he seems so adamant to help you. Maybe he does care, or maybe you just look so desperate and he is doing this out of pity. You already hate the fact that he had caught on to how you have been basically dragging your ankle as you walk no matter how much you have tried to hide it from his eyes.

You always hate to appear weak in other people’s eyes, and it is even worse to show this side of you to Seokjin.

A flash of memory comes to your mind, of him standing in the school hallway, grinning wide as he called out to you. The kids around him started laughing and pointing at you after hearing what he said, and how you rushed to hide in the bathroom, hiding your reddened face while crying until the last period of the day.

And school was never the same again ever since.  

“Look, I know you hate me,” he says, nearly pleading at this point and you have to do everything in you to hold back from saying ‘You think?’ and make things even worse when it is obvious that he is trying. “And though I know I totally deserve the silent treatment, probably until hell freezes over, can’t we call it a truce for now so I can help you? At least until I can get you somewhere safe or to your family’s cabin in one piece. You also need to get your legs treated because there is no way you are getting through this cold with that leg of yours.”

Exhaling a deep sigh, you have to admit that he is right. There is no way you can keep on walking further in this state, and you hate to be too far away from your car without making sure that all of your belongings would be safe while you figure out how to get your car free. Right at this moment, you see no other possibility of getting help aside from the man that you have hated most for years.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—” you release another sigh to push your anger away and let things go. For now. “Fine. I do need help, but remember that I’m only agreeing to do this because I have no other choice.” And you are also desperate, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Let’s call it a truce and I promise I won’t maul you if you can either get my car out of the hole it was stuck in or help me get my things first.”

Seokjin’s eyes light up instantly and you can see him releasing a relieved sigh as he smiles at you.

“So, truce?” he asks again, offering his hand through the window for a shake, and you give your gloved one to grab onto him to shake his hand.

“Truce.”

Once you had gotten into his truck, you made Seokjin agree to turn his truck around and drive back to where your car had been stuck in. Seokjin had helped you step down the bank, carefully this time and without slipping down the slippery slope, then joined you as you examined your car.

You had asked him if he could pull the car out of the ditch, only to have him shaking his head, regretfully telling you that he wasn’t all prepared with the proper tools to do it when he was only planning to make a quick drive out of town and back and was not expecting to find you stranded in the area. The only option is to get your things out of the vehicle and get to town before midnight to decide how to go about it.

While Seokjin goes to the trunk to retrieve your bags and suitcase, you look down on the small car and wince at the sight of it. A huge dent is visible on its side where you felt it hit against the edge of the ditch and the way its tires are slanted sideways in awkward positions is not entirely a beautiful picture to look at.

You had relied too much on your new car when you decided to go on this trip, believing that it would never fail you. As a matter of fact, it didn't. It was more that you had failed your car more than it did to you when you were being reckless about the road.

Seokjin follows your gaze just as he hoists a suitcase out of your baggage trunk, looking down on the tires and mutters, “You weren’t using the right tires.”

You can only sigh when you know that he is right and you are too tired to defend yourself. “I have been too busy right before the holidays, and I couldn’t find the time to take it to the auto shop,” you tell him, furrowing your brows a little. “I wasn’t planning to drive home on it either until I had no other choice but to do it at the very last minute.”

He only stares at you and you bite your tongue. Squaring your shoulders, you wait for him to make a sarcastic comment to taunt you. Unexpectedly, Seokjin only nods. Maybe he had caught the distress in your eyes or see it on your face, because he only smiles knowingly and says, “It’ll be alright. We’ll just cover it up with something for now and lock up the doors. I’ll have my friend pull it out first thing in the morning. He has a tow truck which would be better to do the job than my truck and some old rusty chains would.”

Surprised to have his response, you can only return his gaze and absentmindedly murmur, “Okay.”

Both of you work systematically as you move your things from the car into his truck. Then you watch Seokjin placing some fallen branches and street markers to keep your car out of sight before hopping back on the truck to continue the journey. As you are soon back on the road, you slowly feel the cold coming back and tug at your coat to tighten it around you. You look down on the heater and notice it running, but say nothing even though you doubt that the thing is working properly in this old truck of his.

"You shouldn't have worn something so thin in this cold." Seokjin’s voice suddenly comes to steal your attention away from his dashboard and you find him glancing down on your body when you look at him.

"I wasn't exactly planning to be away from the wonderful heater that my car has,” you murmur with a sigh. “I also didn't plan to fall into the snow either."

“You fell?” he asks while glancing back and forth between you and the road ahead.

Nodding your head, you answer him with a light scoff. “I slipped on that ditch when I tried to get up on the road earlier.”

You hear him cursing under his breath. “Damn it. That explains your leg,” he mutters softly, once again surprising you when he looks even more concerned instead of laughing at you for it. The latter was something which he would have normally done on times like this. At least, in the past, there was no doubt that he would.

Looking out the window, you focus on the sight around you to ignore the weird feeling growing in your gut. For this one night alone, he has surprised you more than once with the way he acts. Once he was done being a smartass, he began to act really—nice. He even calls you with your name instead of that name. The mockery he gave you in senior high school which was the final straw for everything he ever did to you.

There is another reason why you are silent with your thoughts. Since the moment he brought up about your leg, you start feeling your ankle pulsing with pain when you could barely feel it earlier in the cold outside.

"You're shivering,” Seokjin suddenly speaks after a while, breaking the awkward silence that had been rising between you.  

“Um—what?”

You meet Seokjin’s knowing gaze with your confused one, until you finally notice that while you have been lost in trance, your body has started shivering again. As you watch the way your hands and your body tremble, Seokjin drops a small blanket on your lap.

“I don’t have a spare jacket, but you can use this lap blanket for now. You probably should lose the wet coat too, but I’m not sure that this thing will be enough to warm you if you’re only wearing that sweater of yours,” he says, tapping on his heater as if he is trying to wake the thing up.

“This is fine,” you tell him while covering yourself with his blanket, though the size only covers your chest and lap. His masculine scented cologne fills the air around you as you take a deep breath. Leaning back in your seat, you accidentally knock your sprained ankle against the floor and wince in pain. “Oh, shit. Ow!”

“What, what’s wrong?” he turns to you as he hears your voice. You are in too much pain that you only whimper and bend down slightly to hold your leg to stop it from hitting anything else. “Fuck, I almost forgot about your leg,” he says when he looks down to watch you massage your calf to ease the throbbing pain a little. “Are you okay?”

Whimpering, you can only shake your head and blink back the tears. “I don’t know. It’s hurting.”

You hear him cursing under his breath while he looks around through the woods, as if searching for something. Then suddenly, he changes gear and turns the wheel before you feel the truck leaving the main road, entering a gravelly pathway appearing between the line of trees. “Alright, hang on tight.”  

Reaching up to the handle on your door, you hold on tightly on it just as he had told you so while the truck shakes roughly down the pathway. You look around in shock, while Seokjin appears eerily calm as he drives the truck with rapt attention.

“What are you doing? Where are we going?” you finally ask him once you find your voice again, knowing that the main intersection leading to the town was not supposed to be around until another couple of kilometres and this is certainly not the turn you were hoping to see.

“It’s a shortcut. We’ll get there faster if we go through here. Trust me,” he says with a tiny grin on his stupidly handsome face which instantly melts your heart to a puddle. Sighing away, you have no choice but to actually trust him. Even if he is the last person on earth you would ever plan to give your trust to.

“Give it to me.”

He was just walking out of the changing room after practicing with the track team when you ambushed him. Like the true bully that he was, Seokjin was walking with confidence oozing all over him and was barely noticing you trudging over his way. As he looked at you, his eyes grew wide for a moment before his face turned cold.

“What are you talking about?”

“Give. It. To. Me.”

“Give what to you?”

“The goddamn picture! Do I really have to spell it out for you?” You screamed right at his face when he kept acting dumb about it, and you instantly looked around, afraid if anyone would hear you talking. Though it was more due to what you were talking about that you feared for people to find out, not for being caught talking to him in public.

“Ah, the picture!” He suddenly said, the expression on his face brightened as if he had a ‘eureka’ moment and you prayed to all the mighty above that you could hold back from scratching that smile off of his face. Literally. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

“What?”

Seokjin grinned wickedly as he leaned closer, whispering to you. “Why would I give such a nice picture to you after all the trouble I had gone through to get it? It’s my prized possession and I’d rather not lose it,” he said, his eyes glinting with pure mischief that had your body shivering in fear.

“What do you want with it anyway?” he asked, then his grin started to grow. “Do you find it thrilling to have a bare photo of you out there somewhere?”

“You—” you suddenly felt the urge to slap him on the face but you managed to hold back by clenching your hands right before you could swing it. Yet you still felt a small pride growing in your chest when he noticed your anger and flinched back in shock. “How the hell did you get it anyway?”

Seokjin only shrugged his shoulders. “Took it myself back in summer camp. You should be more careful when you go changing your clothes.”

“So, you—” you gasped. Clearly not believing your own two ears. “You really do have it.”

You tried to deny that it was true when there were people whispering rumours about how Seokjin had his hands on a certain picture of you. A polaroid picture that was said to be taken while you had your breasts revealed when you were about to go swimming in summer camp. You had waved it off when your best friend came to tell you about it and said that it was probably a lie, something he would ramble about with his friends just to put a shame on you. That the picture did not exist.

But this. This confirmed it.

You looked away when you felt your tears coming. Your chest had grown tight but you refused to let him see how weak he was making you feel. “How many people have seen it?”

“Just a couple of the guys who saw it in my room the first place. I don’t go around showing indecent pics to everyone I see. You should give me more credit than that.”

Forcing yourself to look at him, you practically started begging for his mercy. “Please, Jin. You can’t show it to anyone else or let it spread. Ever. If you really don’t want to give it to me or destroy it, at least promise me that you won’t show it to anyone.”

He was silent for a moment. “I promise,” he finally said. “And I’ll destroy it if anyone ever finds it.”

You didn’t truly expect that he would promise you that much, but you had to admit it gave you a good feeling when you heard it. “You do?”

“Scout’s honour.”

You were about to say something else when the other boys from the track team started walking out of the changing room. So all you did was give him your final threat before moving on. “I’m holding your words for it, Seokjin. And if I ever find out that you are spreading it around, I’m going to make you pay for it.”

You didn’t bother to wait for his response and quickly scrambled away from the spot, leaving the dumb pervert behind. If only you didn’t put so much hope and trust into him, you probably wouldn’t have regretted it later on.

Trees.

You look around and the giant trees are all you see aside from the dark void among them as the truck keeps driving through the woods. Seokjin has his eyes set forward as he drives the truck through the gravel-covered road.

Looking back and forth between the sight around you and him, you start to grow wary of the situation. Not only for the fact that you have no idea where you are going and that you cannot see anything outside the window, but also for the way his jaw is tight and his knuckles are turning white against the steering wheel.  

“Are we lost?”

Seokjin gives you no response at first, but then his jaw ticks for a brief moment and he forces himself to relax a little as he answers, “Uhm—no.”

“Oh, that sounds convincing,” you sarcastically comment on him while rolling your eyes. “Why don’t I believe you? I thought you knew the area.”

He glares at you for a second before turning back on the road. “I do. It’s just—I might have taken the turn a bit too early.”

Gasping, you look around you once again before turning to him with wide eyes. “You’re kidding me. Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Look, I got this, alright? Fuck, I know these roads. It’s not my fault I kept getting distracted by you,” he suddenly snaps. “You know, I think you just succeeded in giving me your bad luck or something. It’s starting to feel like helping you is turning into bad karma.”

You let out a groan. Just when you are starting to think that you can start liking the guy and he just ruins it in seconds. “Bad karma? Now you’re saying I’m a bad karma? That bad luck started when I agreed on taking this damn ride with you.”

Shaking your head, you look away while cursing and calling him with every vile word you could think of. Then you ramble about how things have only been getting worse and you regret trusting him, starting from how you should have stayed back in your car and waited down the road instead of hitching a ride with him. You even add by telling him that it would have been better if you had camped out at the side of the road, to saying how you are starting to believe he is doing this on purpose to scare you or possibly kidnap you instead of taking you home. Then how you would rather risk being abducted by aliens than having to be taken by him.

All of a sudden, he starts to laugh, which stops you from calling him more names and have you turning to him, finding him looking amused while giving you his cocky smile for no reason at all.

“Sweetheart, you better stop blabbering shit and let a guy focus on driving before I kiss you.”

Huffing at him, you cross your arms and look away. You say nothing to him as he continues to drive. At least, not directly. Because you keep on muttering all the curses and threats you could think of to let him know that you would not be sitting down nicely if he fails to bring you home tonight.

“What if we get ambushed by wild animals? What if there’s a cliff on the end of this pathway? There is no possible way that this road is safe enough to drive on. I swear to God, if we don’t make it back safely, I’m going to—”

While you kept rambling on, Seokjin had only been silent. You could see his grin slowly fading away the more your voice got higher by the minute, words broken between each other as you were tossed and turned at every rough shake the truck had to endure the deeper it got into the woods.

Then, like a bad karma, your suspicion and doubt are both proven as the truck suddenly jolts, hitting a pothole in the middle of the road until you feel it tilting sideways before it falls to the other side as Seokjin presses the pedal, only to send it to another hole instead of releasing it free. When you hear him cursing while pressing the gas pedal, and all you could hear is the tire spinning instead of feeling it move, you know that you are both in trouble.

“Don’t tell me that we’re stuck.”

Seokjin snaps his eyes on you with his lips pursed tight to a thin line. He says nothing before he opens his door and steps outside, checking on the situation and any probable damage. Deep down, without having to hear him confirm it for you, you already know that you are completely stuck.

“Fucking great.”

Deciding not to be the bad guy, you carefully climb out of the truck to see what the problem is and maybe offer some help. Though you find it that you are probably useless when you could barely stand straight thanks to the numbing pain on one of your legs. You finally find a way to move around, however, but only by holding onto the side of the truck as you hop your way over to the other side.

You find Seokjin just standing up from looking into the tires, using his cellphone’s flashlight to be able to see better in the dark. You walk closer—or, in this case, hopping on your uninjured leg to keep yourself from walking on your hurting ankle—as he walks towards the truck’s compartment, and it is then when you finally see how the truck is angled awkwardly with its front tire buried in the snow. The snow had probably covered the deep pothole which he had missed earlier, and yes, now you are both stuck in the middle of nowhere. Right in the middle of the woods and the darkness around you is not helping to make you feel better at all.  

Turning to the back of the truck, you see Seokjin rummaging through the stuff he has back there and you call out to him. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Seokjin nearly jumps, your voice has completely startled him as he didn’t even notice that you have gone out of the truck.

“Fuck, _____,” he gasps, pressing his free to his chest. “ No, I think I can handle it. What are you doing? You shouldn’t be walking, you’re going to make it worse,” he adds with a frown. He even turns his phone to light up your leg as if to make a point.

“I’m not standing on it,” you say to him while pointing at your leg that is slightly lifted off from the ground. “I just wanted to see what’s wrong. You can’t expect me to just sit in there and do nothing.”

Shaking his head, Seokjin reaches into the back of the truck once again and pulls out a car jack and a shovel. “Don’t worry, I got this,” he says while showing you his tools with a wink.

You look over to the tools he has in his hands and cannot help but ask, “You’re going to use those to do what, exactly?”

He looks down for a brief moment and starts explaining, “I’m gonna lift the truck up a little so I can see the hole and dig around it to make a path so the truck can climb up. It’s too dark and the snow is too thick, I need to do something before digging up to make sure I won’t be hitting the tire with the shovel.”

He may seem confident, but the way his eyes are shaking only lets you know that he is not truly sure about it either. He can probably see the dubious look on your face because he later adds, “Look, I don’t exactly know if it’ll work, but at least I can try to do something to get us out. Now move over and let me do the work.”

You do as he says and slide out of his way as he walks over, then he hands you his phone to help brighten things up for him. He calmly states that since there is still no reception showing on both your phones, they are completely useless at the moment except for their flashlights, and it would be the only thing you are allowed to do without adding injuries.

Seokjin kneels down next to his truck, getting the jack into place. Tossing his coat jacket away, he bends down and tries to nudge the tires out of the pothole using his tools. You point the lights from his phone towards him and lean against the side of the truck as you watch him work. Your eyes trail down as his muscles stretch and bulge underneath the tight long sleeves of his sweater, his shoulders looking strong and built as he pulls and pushes, groaning as he uses his strength to pull his truck out of the trap. His lips form into a pout and the frown on his face deepens as he concentrates.

You realise that even the darkness of the woods is not enough to mask his beauty. If only he had not opened his mouth to ruin things with his snarky comments and teases, you might have been swooning all over him like many of those students back in your high school, both girls and boys, would.

Noticing your silence, he glances over his shoulder and his cocky smirk grows when he notices where exactly you are currently looking at. “See something you like, sweetheart?” he teases.

Scoffing, you look away to hide the way your cheeks are warming up from being caught ogling him. I fact, you cannot believe you actually were seeing something that you like. Yet another thing he doesn’t need to know.

He continues to work once he is pleased to have you flustering. The space between you falls silent except for the sound of him working on the jack and his heavy breathing. And you cannot help but suddenly feel slightly nervous around him. Maybe it’s the cold, you wonder. Deciding that it must be messing your brain up.

You start wishing that you could be somewhere warm, with blankets around you instead of wet clothes and hot drinks. And hugs. Lots of hugs. Even Seokjin looks warm enough to snuggle with, with his strong arms and shoulders to lean on.

“Damn it,” he curses, snapping you out of your trance and have you looking at him again. He has moved from using the jack to digging into the ground with his shovel, and he looks annoyed when the couple of diggings he did had made no difference. “The ground is solid ice, the shovel can’t get through. I guess we’re going to be stuck here, after all.”

He tosses away the shovel and lets it land on the nearest pile of snow while he catches his breath. His face and neck are glowing with sweat, while you can feel your own skin blanch. Dread instantly takes over when you realise that you are going to be held up right here in the dark. And that is when you finally snap.

“Fine, you’re right. It’s probably me. I’m cursed. I must have done something wrong and whatever holy entity exists up there hates me.”

Of course, it had to be. You have been followed by one bad luck to another on this one night only and not even Seokjin’s presence could steer it away. Or maybe he is just a part of that bad luck? He isn’t really helping you, after all, so it could be it. At this point, you are starting to believe that the universe truly hates you.

“Have you gone insane?” Seokjin asks you with his eyes wide and a nervous chuckle coming out of his lips. He walks over to you and places both hands on your shoulders, lightly shaking you up as he calms you down. “Look, I was only joking when I said you were some sort of bad luck, okay? You seemed so into it when you were wallowing about how you got stranded, I thought it would be fun to tease you.”

Your heartbeat is still racing as if you are about to have a panic attack, but he forces you to keep looking into his eyes and you find both his words and his assuring gaze are distracting you just enough to have you slowly calm down.

“It’s nobody’s fault, things like this could happen to anyone, anytime. It could be worse, you know. I mean, we could have been stuck at different places on our own instead of together,” he adds with a playful shrug while throwing you a smile as he could tell that whatever he is saying to you is starting to get into your head.

“God, whatever,” you mutter while rolling your eyes. You cannot help the grin that comes from hearing his words. Looking away from his ridiculous happy face, you look out through the line of trees, into the darkness and the void that had scared you off earlier. Your eyes slowly adjust themselves to the dark, and just then, your sight clears out to show you something appearing from beyond the trees. “Hey, what’s that? Is that a—a house?”

Seokjin follows your gaze and he immediately laughs. “Well, what do you know? We were on the right track, after all,” he says, sounding relieved while you are left completely confused. Thankfully, he explains to you shortly, “That’s the Choi family’s old farm. We might be able to get us some help.”

You look over towards the old building, noticing the broken fences surrounding it and the way the main house looks more like a ran down shack and the old barn next to it is not looking so grand either. With no lights in the surrounding building, they look like nothing but a pair of haunted cabins. “But it’s dark and it seems—deserted.”

“Uh—yeah, old grandpa Choi lived here alone after his wife died. He only had a couple of horses, two cows, and a few chickens to take care of. I think I heard about him moving to be with his kids on the other side of the town after he got sick last year.”

You snap your eyes back to him, astounded. Even more so when he had spoken so lightly like it is no big of a deal.

“So—it basically is deserted.”

“I—technically, yes. But there has to be some electricity running or perhaps some tools left behind. Maybe a working house phone, or a first aid kit for your legs, who knows?” If he is completely unsure about his own ideas, he is clearly trying to hide it from you by turning around and quickly making his way towards the old farmland.

“And how exactly are we going to know that?” you ask while moving in small hops to follow him. “I’m not about to add breaking and entering to my naughty list.”

He stops dead in his track, turning around instantly when he heard what you just said. “A what—list?”

Waving both your arms, you voice out one of the most ridiculous things you could think of. “There has to be some kind of list of the bad things I did to deserve this much bad luck in one night.”

“Oh, you’ve got some bad luck, alright. But at least you got me, right?” he teases while chuckling. Though he stops when he sees that you are being serious. “Well, fine—do you have any better idea?”

Clearly, you have none. You are completely flabbergasted to the entire thing that you have nothing to offer at the moment, and he seems to be too impatient to wait until you can make up your mind. Obviously, there is no other choice but do exactly what he is planning to, which is why he turns around again and starts making his way through the trees.

“And we are not breaking into the property. I am,” he says to you while looking over his shoulders, not minding where he is heading as he trudges forward to the edge of the pathway.  

“Jin—” you call out to stop him just as he walks past the line of trees. But when he suddenly cries out and disappears as if the ground had just swallowed him, you know that you are too late.

“Oh, my God! Jin!”

It takes a lot of effort for you to hop off towards where Seokjin had fallen into. Once you reach the edge of the woods, you finally notice that the ground slightly descends from the pathway, going downhill towards the farmland beyond.

You can hear him laughing before you find him, lying down on his back and practically buried in the pile of snow. The broken patches of the snow around you shows you just where he had his misstep earlier before he came tumbling down.

“Jin, are you okay?” you shout out to him while taking another step forward while he is still chuckling like an ass down there.

As he notices you moving, he suddenly yells out, “No, ______. Stop!”

His warning is left unheard, however, when it is far too late. You have taken a step into the snowy hill and the ‘ground’ beneath you breaks, sending you slipping down the slope until you fall on your back, landing right beside him.

“Shit, _____,” you hear him calling as he crawls to you. “Are you okay?”

Seeing his face hovering above you snaps you right out of the shock, and then you start laughing.

“Oh, God,” you scream. “We are such a mess.”

“Shit, you scared me,” he says, slowly grinning when relief washes over him. “Yeah, we are quite the mess. And we are both soaking wet now.”

“Oh damn, you’re right,” you murmur as you look down on your clothes, and his own, all completely covered in snow. “No thanks to the snow, I guess.”

Lying back down against the slope beneath you, you look over to the farmhouse before you and wonder loudly, “Do you think we could just rest and shelter here?”

You feel cold and tired, and in more pain after the fall. The night is not getting any younger. And with this much stress, you know that you cannot force Seokjin to try and break his truck free in the dark and in this cold. You know that your family would be worried about you if you don’t reach home by tonight, but you also know that at least your father would still be logical enough not to unleash a whole search party for you only because you are late for half a day.

As long as you can go back on the road the moment the sun rises, that is.

As if reading your thoughts, Seokjin follows your gaze and nods. “Maybe. It might be better to rest than risk it in the dark. I can try again when the sun is up. Hopefully, the ground will break more easily once it has warmed up,” he says, before pushing himself off the ground. “Stay here for a moment and let me lock up the truck before leaving it.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’s not like I can go anywhere,” you wave him off as he turns to run back up towards his truck, leaving you there to feel the throbbing pain on your ankle while wondering how terribly sore you are going to feel in the morning around the hips.

You were never one to go to high school parties.

But when your best friend became a host for one during her birthday on one Friday night, there was no way you were going to refuse. Especially when she had let you know that your crush was invited.

He was one of the boys from the track team, one of the few decent ones who had never been rude to you. Dongjun was always so nice and so full of smiles that you fell for him instantly. His personality intrigued you solely because he was different compared to the other boys, more mature, more gentle, and had always been so caring.

Through a scheme brought upon by your close friends, you had ended up inside the closet during a Seven Minutes in Heaven-ish game with the gorgeous boy himself. The seven minutes felt like a lifetime when you spent the first two talking shyly with him before spending the next five minute of it kissing.

Your very first kiss. With your very first crush.

Your heart was racing and there was no doubt your face would have a change of colour when you finally parted, and you had let him know about it being your first. “That was my first kiss.”

He smiled against your lips with his forehead on yours. “Then it was my honour to have been given a chance to give it to you,” he said then, and you felt so close to melting into a puddle. “How about I repay it by joining you at lunch next Monday?”

“S-sure.”

He was the one who left the closet first, after kissing you one last time with a brief, chaste kiss. And you were still smiling and flushing in bliss when you stepped out half a minute later.

The bliss you felt then was cut short, however, when you were met with the last person on earth you would ever wish to see.

“Someone looks happy,” Seokjin greeted you with a sing-a-long tone as he watched you stepping out of the closet.

“Who invited you?” you asked him with a frown. You were sure that your best friend had insisted not to invite the devil, yet here he was, looking bitter and evil as he always did when he saw you.

With his hands in his pockets, Seokjin grinned. “The boys from the club were invited and they needed a ride. So I had to be a good samaritan and offer my service.”

“Quite the samaritan, you are,” you scoffed, then tried to walk past him.

“I wonder if he would be even happier if he had seen your picture.”

Stopping in your tracks, you turned to him and glared. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

Seokjin backed away from you, chuckling. “We’ll see, little one. We’ll see.”

Seokjin trudges down the small snowy hill with you on his back. With every step he makes, your body bounces against his strong back a little. The warmth coming from his body and the strong grip he has on your thighs are enough to make your heart pounding and your insides tingling. You have your arms around his neck and it is quite surprising that you have no urge to strangle him while he makes the trip down to the deserted farmhouse.

He had tried to help you walk earlier, only to fail when the pain on your leg felt too unbearable. If it wasn’t so bad when you fell on it the first time, it certainly looks like the second fall had officially made it worse. Added with having it buried in the snow, though only briefly, there was no way you could walk on it on your own.

Between his show of clumsiness and your sprained ankle, it has been proven that the possibility of you falling again on your hurting leg would be much bigger if you had been hopping all the way down from the slopes to the old farmhouse, so he had offered to give you a lift on his back.

You say nothing as he finished the descent walk until he reaches the main house’s front porch. Just as you had suspected, the door and windows are locked and sealed tight and the electricity seems to have been cut off. After trying all the locks and fails at it, he then moves towards the barn on the other side of the property, instantly relieved to find that the front lock had been broken off.

“I guess this is where we’re staying the night,” he says while pulling the door open.

Seokjin hobbles into the barn while flashing his phone around. Finding a few wooden crates at the front side of the room, he walks over to them and carefully deposits you on top of one of them.

“Stay here, let me look around to see if there’s anything we could use.”

After settling down on one of the strongest crates, you watch as Seokjin stumbles further into the barn with the help of his phone to light the way. Within a minute, he reaches all the way back and shouts, “Hey, there’s a door here.”

“Is it leading somewhere?” you shout back, curious to know what he had found. You only have silence as your response and you use your own phone to light up your surroundings. All you could see with it are a couple of wooden crates like the one you are sitting on, a few piles of dry hay, and some dirty sacks which you may not want to know what they contain inside.

While you are marvelling on the interior of the barn and wonder how on earth you are going to stay here for the night, you can hear his muffled voice coming from the other side of the barn. Having no idea what he is saying, only able to hear random muffled words, you yell out to ask him, "Who has a nice rack?"

Seokjin returns from the other room, standing in the doorway with an amused look on his face as he laughs. "I was saying that there is a fireplace on the back,” he tells you as he makes his way back to you.  

"Oh."

"Come on,” he says as he turns, giving you his back while kneeling on the floor. It takes you seconds to climb onto his back, and he is careful enough as he lifts you up to not have you bumping your ankle as he takes you to the room out back.

You are surprised to find that the other room is a lot more descent than the front side of the barn. It looks more like a tiny lounge or a seating room, except with only a few broken chairs set aside and a large wooden chest placed across the fireplace. There is even a long cable hanging from the ceiling, as if there used to be a hanging lamp or a chandelier being set up there.

He points at the small fireplace in the smaller room as he slowly deposits you on the floor. “It may not seem much, but it would be enough to warm us for the night and keep us from freezing to death.” You look at the small furnace and the few blocks of wood left on its side, silently relieved to have it there and hope that he could make them work somehow.

“I also found this,” he says, pointing his lights towards the huge chest which has its lid left open. He helps you walk over to it before showing you the fuzzy blankets being kept inside.

“Blankets?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, they might be a bit damp but I think they’re usable. Let’s get you warmed up while I set up the fire.”

You didn’t even realise that you have been shivering until you try to speak and the words are caught on your numbing lips. As Seokjin moves to stand next to you, you finally notice that his lips had taken a bluish tint. The fall he had earlier in the snow had made his clothes all soaked and there is no doubt the cold temperature has gone through the thick clothes he is wearing, just the same way it has been for you.

Seokjin looks away from the pile of blankets, meeting your eyes with a determined look in them. ”You need to take those soaked clothes off. It won't help much if you keep them on."

"Are you trying to trick me into getting naked for you?"

"No, I'm just helping you out. I know that I’m a jerk but I know when to be nice, so stop thinking the worse about me, will you?" he suddenly snaps and you flinch at the tone. You were trying to make things light but perhaps the stress and the dire situation had pushed his emotions to the edge. You hear him sigh as he bends down, pulling a thick blanket and hands it to you gently. “Here, take everything off and wear this. We can hang them all dry by the fire later."

He pulls out another blanket for himself, and takes the extra one he finds inside and lays it down on the floor as a cover. Taking your hand in his, Seokjin helps you to sit down on it carefully. “I’ll help you take your boots off. I know it can be a pain in the ass,” he says while forcing a smile, as if he is trying to lighten things up again after his previous outburst.

A part of you wants to shut him off, still feeling the sting of his reaction earlier. But you figure that he is right, the hardest part of it would be pulling your foot out of the boots. The pain could be a bitch and there is no way you would be able to handle it on your own, much less brave enough to actually do it without someone else’s help.

“Okay,” you say to him, angling your leg towards him and let him hold it up gently in his hands. “I’m so going to hate this part.”

He chuckles. “Try not to kick my face,” he says, smiling as bends down.

“I’ll do my best,” you tell him while gritting your teeth.  

Pulling one boot off from your uninjured foot first, Seokjin places it gently beside the wooden chest, then he reaches for the hurting ankle. You clench your jaw as he holds tightly on the back of your knee, then pulls the boot off with the other hand. The pain is too much that it has you screaming and cursing as he tugs the boot off in one swift move, but you hold back just enough not to kick him right on his head.

“Great job, no more injuries for the night,” he teases as he puts the boot away. He looks down, studying your ankle for a moment before lowering your leg so you could rest it on the blanket. “It’s definitely a sprain. Be careful with it when you change. I’ll give you some privacy.”

He walks away to the other side of the room with his blanket folded on his arm and you wobble slowly on the blanket to turn around.

Keeping your back on him, you strip down to your underthings after making sure that the wetness has yet to soak that deep into them, then wrap the fading burgundy coloured blanket around your body. You could hear the crackling sound of fire behind you as Seokjin lights the fireplace up while you were taking your time with the thick layers of your clothes, and now warmth is starting to rise in the room.

You still hear him shuffling around behind you so you keep your back on him and take your time, inspecting your ankle using the lights from your phone. You hear the sound of his wet clothes falling on the ground before he whispers, “Are you decent?”

“Yeah, I am,” you tell him before turning around, finding him wrapped in a red blanket. He walks over to you with a white box in his hands.

“Is your leg still hurting?” he asks you, holding the box up to you. “Saw this by the fireplace. I think the bandages are still good enough to wrap that ankle of yours for a while until we can get something better to heal it.”

“Um, okay,” you answer him hesitantly as he kneels down in front of you with a bandage in his hands. “Do you know how to put that on me?”

His eyes twinkle in the dark. “I’m no doctor, but I used to fix up some of the boys from the track club whenever someone hurt their ankles during practice or at a competition back in school. Trust me, I know what to do.”

Sighing, you realise there is no point in denying his help by now. “Fine, as long as you can make sure I can still walk. I might sue you if I never walk again,” you joke with him, and you are relieved when he only laughs.  

Seokjin reaches up to hold up your leg, and you flinch back as he touches your skin. “Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?” Seokjin asks you with a sheepish smile.

“No, you didn’t,” you answer while looking down, hiding the heat rising in your cheeks while wondering exactly why you are reacting this way. You keep your eyes looking down as he expertly wraps the bandage around your sprained ankle. His hands move gently as he treats you and his voice is soft when he says how he wishes he has some painkillers in hand to help you deal with the pain whenever you wince.

“There,” he says once he is done, and you mumble a soft, “Thank you,” while he slowly crawls next to you so he could lie down on the blanket by your side. “Are you comfortable?”

You try to smile at him and nod to respond, but even as you tug the blanket tighter around you, you are still shaking. He must have noticed it no matter how hard you try to hide it from him, because he looks over and gently tugs your blanket towards him. “You’re still freezing. Come here.”  

Looking up, you see him smiling as he shifts closer. “I know something that’ll warm you up,” he says as he moves his arms around you, pulling you to his side. It doesn’t take long for you to finally warm up. His body is doing much more to give you warmth than the blanket and fire do, just the way you had expected it would.  

You were still full of bliss from the Friday night party when you came to the school on Monday.

Pretty sure you were humming a song throughout the day, even through Math class that you had dreaded so much. You have yet to meet up with Dongjun since you arrived at school. The only time you did see him was during PE class, when he waved at you from the distance before the teacher tortured you on the tracks.

Your heart was racing rapidly right before lunchtime, and you had to stop yourself from running off to the cafeteria with the excitement of seeing your crush. You did rush out of the classroom the minute the bell rang and found him there, but the reaction he gave you when you came to him was completely unexpected.

“What’s wrong?”

You forced him to explain the reason why he was suddenly acting cold. He couldn’t even look at your face when you asked him if he still wanted to have lunch with you.

“I—I changed my mind. I also have practice right after this, so I have to go. Sorry,” Dongjun avoided you like a plague and you chased him out of the cafeteria for answers. Except that when the answer came, it arrived to you through the one person you dreaded to see most.

Just as you managed to stop Dongjun on the hallway, the devil came and wrapped his arm around Dongjun’s shoulder.

“What’s going on here? A lover’s quarrel?”

“This is none of your business,” you hissed at Seokjin, wishing he would just go away so you could finish talking to Dongjun again.

Instead of turning away and leave, he spoke with a wicked grin on his face, “I don’t know, I thought maybe Dongjun can share what is on his mind with me. We both received something special from you, after all.”

He winked, while you felt like you have been thrown to a burning flame.

“No,” you muttered, shaking your head while you looked between him and your crush; one who was looking at you with disgust while the other looked gleeful, and you carefully backed away from them.

Just as you turned around to leave the place, you heard Seokjin called out to you, “You know that you could just give him an extra copy to keep so I won’t have to show him mine, right—”

You were already dashing out of the hallway when he called you with a certain name, not using your name or the nickname he would usually use whenever he was taunting you. But another hurtful nickname which you could still hear even when you were putting distance between you. You could still hear the laughter coming from the students who were nearby and heard the name. And you could still hear his voice even until days, weeks, months passed, and people were still calling you with it.

It was the start of the war, right before hell was unleashed through your very own two hands.

Kim Seokjin was going to pay.

If only the one revenge that finally stopped him was enough to make the other kids stop all the same time.

Under the flickering light from the burning fireplace, you huddle close to each other with your backs against the wall. Groaning against his chest, you talk about the possibility of your parents making a missing person report for you while he promises that he will get things moving again by the break of dawn.

Bumping his blanket-covered shoulder against yours when you suddenly grow quiet right after, Seokjin asks you, “What are you thinking about now?”

“The apocalypse.”

“The—what, now?”

“You know those zombie movies?” You ask him while tilting your head to look up to his face, seeing him nod. ”In those movies, you’d see those characters that would meet up during trial times, then they end up teaming up to get to safety or fight to find a way out. Then just as you are starting to root for them to succeed, they’d get lost in the middle of nowhere, stumble into a group of zombies while running out of supplies and with no weapons to protect them, and you’ll either end up with a heartbreak from seeing them perish right at the end of the movie or ugly crying when they and up surviving and falsely think they are in love with each other from all the adrenaline they got from escaping death.”

Seokjin falls silent for a brief moment, appearing like he is in complete awe, before he starts laughing. “Are you saying that all of this reminds you of that?”

“Yep,” you say while emphasising the P. “Getting your car stuck in a ditch, followed by getting lost in the woods, find a deserted barn and choosing it as a shelter. Those are all in the checklist of doom in those movies I’ve seen.”  

Seokjin laughs. “You always did, and still do, have such a vivid imagination, ______.”

Smiling at him, you only shrug. “Can’t help it. It’s better than always thinking the worse of things, right? It always works to help you escape from the real world sometimes.”

“Oh, it does,” he agrees, still chuckling as he imagines the scene in his head and compares it with the current situation you are both in.  

When the last chuckle runs through him, he turns to you with a somber smile. “Hey, I wanted to say sorry—I know I was such an ass to you when we were younger. I was a total jerk and I had no excuse for all that I’ve done. And also for—” he swallows hard and stops himself, but you know exactly where he is getting at when you see the painful remorse in his eyes. “But, I want you to know that I am sorry, for everything.”

“Oh.”

You are caught by surprise to his sudden confession that you have absolutely no words to say at first. Especially not the right ones. But then you look up into his eyes to see the sincerity in them that finally brings your mind back to life. “I, uh—I don’t really know what to say. I had never thought you would apologise, ever. Least of all care enough to think about it.”

His gaze softens, but you could still see the sadness in his eyes growing while you nervously keep rambling on. “But I appreciate you for apologising. It really means a lot to me that you do.”

Seokjin cuts you off before you can finish talking, as his lips come pressing gently against yours.

You are caught completely off guard that your body freezes for a moment. Seokjin pulls back briefly, hesitant to continue at first, but little does he know that your nerves had just gotten awakened since the second his lips collided against yours. With a gasp, you lean forward against him to press your lips to his. You can feel him relaxing and breathing deeply as he moves his lips in tune with yours.

The kiss feels gentle and featherlight, but it is still enough to send your body buzzing with light sparks of warmth. Your eyes slowly flutter to close as he slowly deepens the kiss. Slowly melting into his touch, you feel his hands moving down your hips and you are suddenly lifted up as he is carefully pulling you onto his lap without harming your leg.

His fingers find their way to slip beneath the blanket and trail along your bare back, making shivers run down your spine with his delicate touch. One of his hands makes its way up to the back of your head where he cradles you, angling you so he can deepen the kiss. As his tongue laps along the seam of your lips, asking to slip in, his fingers tighten in your hair, pulling on the strands as he eagerly devours your lips.

Yet the moment your scalp stings from the pull, it triggers a memory from the past that instantly stops your brain from functioning. You are suddenly reminded to how he used to pull your hair as he sat behind you in class, before mocking how ugly you were with your hair all tied up. Then the other bad things he did, as little as they may be then, all start coming back to you.

As if there is a bucket of ice being poured over your head, you instantly snap out of your daze and push against his shoulders. Shoving him away, you push yourself off of his lap and try to sit up, though you can only shuffle back from him slightly when Seokjin still has his hands holding up your waist.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. His voice is deep and sounds like honey that it makes something inside you drip. It sounds like a sin, and you quickly remind yourself that this means nothing. That he means nothing.

Your chest tightens when your emotion is running wild and your mind is spinning like crazy. You look away as you climb down from his lap once he lets you go, and lie down next to him again.

What has gotten into you? You ask yourself, completely not believing that you had just kissed Kim Seokjin.

“_____, what is it? Is something wrong?” Seokjin reaches for your hand and entwines his fingers with yours, and only then do you realise that your hands have been shaking.

Looking up, you take in the sight of him. His lips plumped and swollen, pink and wet after the kiss. His eyes are hazy, and when they were showing you his dark desire only moments ago, they are now staring at you with a pained gaze in them.

“Did I really hurt you that bad, _____?” he murmurs softly, as if questioning himself rather than doing it to you. The worrying line appears thick on his face, enough to have you choking on your words.  

“Jin, I—”

“I’m sorry. I really mean it. I don’t know how many times I need to apologise, I will,” he cuts you off before you could say anything, not only with his pleas but with the touch of his lips. You have been so deep in your terrible memories that you didn’t notice it when he leans close. While you are distracted with his lips and his soft voice, he wraps his arms around you as if he wants to stop you from breaking apart.

“Just—” you clear your throat when you still cannot find your voice. “Just tell me why? Why did you have to torment me so much when we were kids?”

Remorse and sadness start to fill his eyes and you suddenly regret bringing things up. You probably should have said anything because his smile vanishes and a somber expression takes over his feature. The sight of him fractures something deep inside your heart that you start chewing the inside your cheeks, indecision weighing heavily in your gut. You still cannot believe that you had kissed him, even more so to think that you actually liked it. But you cannot deny that it still hurts every time the memory of the past comes back to you.

Seokjin’s eyes burn into yours when he slowly starts to speak. “I never hated you, if that’s what you are thinking. Even if I can truly understand if you do hate me for everything I did,” he says, sighing deeply while he runs his fingers through his hair. “Honestly, I don’t really have a great excuse. I kind of always liked you.”

That has you raising your brows. He liked you? But that makes no sense.

“Well, you sure have a terrible way of showing it. You kinda had then and still kind of do,” you murmur softly, confused, while his cheeks flush under your gaze.

With a small grin on his face, he responds to you slowly, “I know I do. Back then, I was just a stupid kid who wanted you to pay attention to me. Then, when I got older and we were in high school, I realised how stupid it was but you already hated me. So it was like, what the hell is the point on changing it now?”

That does sound stupid. Frowning at him, you can only ask, “And how did that lead to you embarrassing me in high school with the boob pic rumours and the name you gave me then?”

Seokjin blinks slowly and then his face pales. Turning his gaze on the floor, his hands clench tight on his side and he looks angry. Though it is clear that he seems to be angry at himself more than he does to you, or to the situation he created then.

Rubbing a hand on his face, Seokjin sighs. “There was never a boob pic,” he mutters while covering his lips with a palm.

“What?”

He looks over to you, the remorse in his eyes seems to grow deeper. “It was a lie, okay? It was true that the polaroid picture everyone found was of you, but it was a picture of you in that summer dress you loved so much. I took a candid photo of you because I had no idea if I could still see you that way again after that day. I hid it from everyone because it was my prized possession and people just assumed that it was—” he stops to clear his throat, “—something indecent, and started spreading that I was keeping a picture of your boobs since I fought real hard to keep people from seeing it. I couldn’t explain my friends that I kept it because I loved looking at you when I couldn’t do it openly when we met, and things just blew up into a big mess that whatever I tried to do to stop it didn’t matter anymore.”

“So, it wasn’t—” you choke out both from relief and astonishment that you cannot even say it out loud. It was never a photo of your private parts, he was never the pervert you thought he was, but it doesn’t stop the heat from rising on your cheeks that comes from knowing the truth behind those rumours.

“I still have it, you know. I can show it if you don’t believe me. It’s starting to fade a bit, but the image is still there.”

Your eyes turn wide, clearly not expecting that. But you find yourself believing him somehow without seeing it. “There’s no need. I—” you clear your throat before speaking again, suddenly feeling the way your heart flutters in your chest when you imagine him keeping a picture of you in his room and wonder the reason why. It has been years, after all. “That’s why you refused to give it to me.”

“Yeah, well—” he rubs the back of his neck while looking away sheepishly. “It would be embarrassing to let you know about my stupid crush then when you hated me so much,” he says with a chuckle.

You voluntarily join him, chuckling softly when the weight in your chest slowly fades. But there is one more thing you need to clear away to be able to move on. “And the nickname? You embarrassed me with that and mocked me right at my face with it. What was that all about?”

Seokjin flinches the moment he remembers about it and begins shaking his head. “That one, I can’t even defend myself. I was bitter and jealous. Dongjun came up to me that weekend and told me about you giving your first kiss to him, and he was planning to ask you out that day. I—” he groans as he pulls at his hair out of anger.

“Fuck, I feel like such a total ass,” he chuckles bitterly, shaking his head. “It’s not that I never truly realised that I was acting like one back then, but—God, I can’t believe I let that got into my head. I just—he kept bragging about the kiss and out of jealousy, I just told him that he could be happy with stealing your kiss all he wanted, but at least I was the one who got the boob pic. And I made that comment to make my point clear.”

You blink. “So, instead of clearing things up, you ended up using it to your advantage to stop him from making advances at me.”

“I’m such an ass,” he groans, once again rubbing his hand over his face.

“Yeah, you were,” you mutter, frowning. “The least you could have done was made a better rhyme for it. Betty Boob? Days after you called me that right at the school hall, people started calling me Betty with the Boobies or Boob Girl, before they got lazy and just cut it short with Boobies or changed it entirely to Grand Tits or something.” You ramble on, though what had made your stomach coil in anger and disgust back then now only gives you small trembles of laughter when you think about it. But you admit that perhaps you only feel that way because he had told you how sorry he was for being an ass to you. You have already started forgiving him, in a way, you just want to tease him a bit while asking for some explanation. Even if you were expecting to hear any other excuse than about him having a stupid crush on you.

Seokjin chuckles bitterly, noticing how much the tension between you has grown lighter, then his grin turns somber again when he speaks, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. I swear. It was stupid of me for not keeping my mouth closed, and I’d no anything to make up for it.”

Exhaling a sigh, you let his words sink in for a moment. You have no idea why you are taking this a lot better than you had thought you would. But then again, this is still better than what you have been thinking about him all these years. Everything was still pretty messed up, but you had started hating him less since he admitted the truth about the polaroid picture and when he said that it was his prized possession. You may bring it up later in the future for him to prove it, though that has you thinking—does that mean you want to see him again?

Then the name-calling. You still hate it, but it seems funny now when you think about it, after you found out that it was merely a slip up caused by his ridiculous jealousy. It did ruin a chance for you with Dongjun, but was it really such a big deal at all? You only shared one kiss and it was an innocent crush that didn’t lead you to a huge heartbreak. So maybe it wasn’t so much of a big loss, after all.

But still—

“If it weren’t for you giving a permanent title on my name and the unrealistic boob pic, I would have probably hated you less.”

His face falls, then he nods weakly. “Yeah, I hated myself for letting things happen and I still kind of do. If I could go back in time and change everything, I would. I swear. I’m really sorry, _____.”

It sounds unbelievable, but you can see the truth in his words when you look at him. “Okay,” you whisper to him. You can still feel the hurt for bringing all of them up but it has grown much lesser now that you have talked about it. The only thing you are feeling now is the way your heart is clenching at the sight of his fallen expression, how his eyes are covered in hurt and how you want so bad to console him just as much as you need him to do the same to you.

“Thank you,” he says, sighing in relief. “Just—tell me what to do to make it up. I’d do anything.”

“Anything?” you ask him, while he nods. Your eyes fall to his lips, and you start feeling tingles on your own lips the moment you remember the kiss you shared. “Then—maybe you can make it up right now.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“This—” you whisper before lunging forward to him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you tug him forward until he falls over your body. He could barely catch himself as he lands on top of you but still manages to hold his weight up as he plants his hands on either side of you.

He places a soft kiss on your lips, neck, on the bend of your shoulders, taking your mind away from the crumbling pain inside your chest while replacing it with heat that brings up a desirable shiver through your body.

The thought of him being the enemy is starting to get tucked away to the back of your mind. Your conscience keeps telling you to push him away, but your eyes look down on his body as you try to avoid his gaze, forgetting that just like you are, he is basically bare underneath the blanket he has wrapped around him, aside from his briefs. And you had pushed the thick fabric away when you were kissing him, giving you the perfect few of his muscular shoulders, his bulging pecs, his delectable abs that are calling you to run your fingers on and follow the trail leading down beneath his boxers.

Perhaps people were right about the advantage of kissing and making up, because your mind suddenly drifts. The anger and hate you have had on him for years suddenly start heating up into something else as they are slowly burning into something more feral between your legs.

Instead of pushing him away and ignoring it, you give in and pull him to you. Without any hesitation, his lips find yours once again, as if being apart from you was already too much and he needs to taste you again, breathing in your soft moans as he deepens the kiss. Your legs move apart as your body grows lax beneath him and he crawls between them. His crotch lands right at your covered center and you buck your hips up, grinding against his bulge to relief the itch growing at your core.

“Fuck, ______,” he groans as he pulls slightly away, keeping his lips hovering against yours. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

His complaints fall short because he already catches your lips with another kiss. It grows deeper and hotter by the second, getting even more desperate and needy as you suck his tongue inside your mouth and he bites and nibbles on your lips between each kiss. His hands roam down your body, touching every curve, every inch of your skin, before they make a quick work to relief you out of your underthings. Your own hands find their way down his bare chest, feeling his hot skin and tracing down the lines of his abs before you slip your fingers through the waistband of his briefs and push it down. Seokjin’s hand leaves your skin only to help you on it, and he is soon out of the last fabric covering his skin.

Once you are both completely bare, your blanket has fallen to your side while his own is still hanging desperately around his waist, he pulls back slightly and looks down at you.

“Are you sure that you want to keep on going? I don’t want you to regret this,” he murmurs against your lips, tracing them with his own. Breathless as he speaks, the pure desire in his eyes is clear.

“Please,” you start pleading, already too far gone to think clearly at this point. It feels as if the moment he had laid the truth and his own self bare before you, every wall you have put up crumbled to the ground and your true desire wins. “Get over here and fuck me,” you impatiently scold him when you notice that he has yet to make a move.

“Damn, you’re bossy,” he says as he grins at you.

“Yeah, well—you should’ve known that by now,” you tell him off while acting blasé, though the tremble that is slightly present in your voice betrays you and you just have to snug your bottom lip between your teeth to hold back a groan.

You watch him fisting himself, giving himself a couple of strokes as he slowly bends down. Moving over your body, Seokjin’s lips land on the column of your throat, tracing hot kisses all the way down until he finds your nipples. They have slightly turned hard from the cold air and incredibly sensitive that your whole body jolts with pleasure the moment he takes one into his lips, earning a loud cry coming from you.

He swirls his tongue around the bud, making you arch your back as you moan and sigh, pressing your breasts into his face to have him suck it harder into his mouth.

Releasing the pebbled nipple with a pop, he kneads the other breast, pinching the tip between two fingers. His eyes grow dark with lust as he watches the way the tip turns instantly hard as a pebble, how your chest heaves heavily for air while whimper after whimper keeps slipping through your parted lips.

Still stroking on his length, he moves the other hand from your breast to grip tight on your leg and spread it open for him, only to suddenly stop. As he blinks, the desire in his eyes is soon replaced with confusion, as if he had just realised that something is wrong.

“Ah, shit—I don’t have any condom. I wasn’t exactly expecting to have sex with anyone when I left this morning,” he says, chuckling nervously. He tries to make things light but you can definitely see the panic in his eyes and it squeezes your heart a little. “I—I can try and pull out though. I mean, I’ll do it, or we could—”

Chuckling softly, you reach up and place a finger on his lips to stop him from rambling. “It’s fine. I get checked regularly to know that I have nothing in me. I’m safe and I’m also on birth control,” you calmly explain to him while deep down cheering at yourself to have made the decision to do so even if you haven’t been with anyone else for months. But yeah, he doesn’t need to know that last one. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, unless you have something—”

“I’m clean,” he quickly adds, appearing relieved for a moment before the dark gaze in his eyes returns. Leaning back down on you, he presses his lips against yours, while he lets a hand roam down your body, tracing down your skin from your waist to your belly, then down to your mound. At the touch of his fingers against your folds, you spread your legs wider, beckoning him closer as the need to have him inside you gets even stronger. You can feel yourself leaking down below, your arousal building and pooling around his fingers when he whispers, “And I also want to come inside you. Fill you up until you are all hot and full inside with my cum.”

“Jin,” you whine softly, your eyelids are fluttering when you feel like your whole body is burning with need. You barely catch on to his smile as it grows, when your eyes are filled with haze and tears as he slowly slides his fingers up and down your wet slit, gathering your arousal before he pushes two fingers inside, stretching your tight entrance with a slow thrust.

“Have patience, pretty girl. You know that I need to make sure you’ll be ready for me,” he says with a chuckle. Kissing your lips to tame your light whimpers, Seokjin pumps his fingers in and out of you a couple more times. You can feel the pleasure rising, edging you to the point that you are close to explode, but still not enough to reach it yet.

“Please—please, Jin. I need you,” you keep pleading while he only licks his lips, hiding the sly grin he is sporting as he watches your reaction to his touches. You give your all to keep your hands away from pulling his hand to reach deeper, clutching tightly on his upper arms to keep your hands out of the way. But then the need inside you wins and your body moves on its own, as you start moving your hips, humping yourself against his fingers to have them fucking you deeper.

Just as you are losing control of your body and desire, his own resolve seems to snap at the same time. With a whisper of a curse, he withdraws his fingers from the depth of your heat then slowly climbs his way on top of your body. Using one hand to hold himself up, he brings the other, the one which has been coated by your release, into his lips. You watch in awe as he licks his fingers, drinking in your sweet nectar with pure hunger in his eyes.

“I wanted to taste you the moment I saw how drenched you are,” he groans, then he moves his hand back to his shaft, covering his wide girth with his palm. He spreads your legs for him while he strokes himself, then aligns the tip of his length at your entrance.

“Relax for me, baby,” he whispers. Staring into your eyes, he enters you slowly, really slow, letting you feel it as he stretches you apart and fills you up with his thick girth. You feel it as his cock enters you inch by glorious inch, how each ridge and vein rub against your pulsing walls, and you clench your jaw while praying to the fucking universe that you wouldn’t come right this very second.

“Jin—” you gasp as he reaches deeper, pushing through the depth of your tight walls as if he wants to mark every nook and every cranny of your hot canal, torturing you once again by sending you to the edge before he could fill you up to the brim. “Oh God, you feel so good.”

You feel his chest rumbling against your breasts as he chuckles. “Really, now? Well, I’m nowhere done with you yet, pretty girl,” he says. His cock is already deep within you and he suddenly pushes forward, thrusting the last few inches of his length in one swift move until you feel the hard tip of his cock nudging at the brim. And your body erupts, the first spasm of your incoming climax runs through you, pulsing around his cock as your walls grow tight for him.

Gasping for breath, you don’t even notice it when your eyes are shut closed to how good you are feeling until he tells you to open them.

“Open up your pretty eyes for me, baby. I want to look into your eyes and see how good I’m making you feel,” he coaxes you while pressing his lips on yours to snap you back to focus on him. The moment you open your eyes for him, his smile grows and you find yourself wanting to see it even more. “Deep breath, baby. Are you ready?”

Exhaling a deep sigh, you nod your head. “Yes, give it to me.” And he does just that.

He pulls back slowly and starts moving immediately, as if he has been holding back for too long and it is time for him to get what he needs from you. Pistoning his hips, thrusting deep, he fills your tight channel over and over again with hard strokes. You can hear his curses each time his cock hits your depth and your walls clench tight around him, while your own curses come as he latches his lips around your nipple, nibbling and sucking the hard tip as his thrusts grow faster.

Your hands make their way from his pecs to his waist, before they land on his hips so you could hold him close to you and feel the way he swivels his body on each thrust he makes.

“Jin, more—more, please,” you beg him, pressing him by the hips and urging him to move faster, to fuck you harder, keeping him there even with your eyes closed from feeling too much and not having enough.

“You want more, baby?” he asks you once he releases your nipple from his hot mouth. You look up and see him moving to the other breast, licking the hard tip and blowing his warm breath on it.

“Yes, Jin. Faster. Harder. I want to—”

He gives you no chance to finish that very sentence when he suddenly gives you a hard thrust, and you instantly cry out his name when he hits you right at the very spot you needed him to be. He keeps repeating the motion, keeping up the steady pace as he hits the spot again, and again. One stroke, two strokes, three—

“Jin…I’m—shit!” you whimper as he nips at your throat, muffling his deep groans as he feels your walls clamping down on his cock as your pleasure starts building, tugging you close to the cliff’s edge.

“Come, baby. Come on, come for me,” he coaxes you with deep grunts as he continues to thrust, making your whole body shake and your thighs quiver harder around him. You start feeling his cock flutter inside you the more your body tightens around him, your stomach coils with your rising climax while he grows harder, his cock twitches against your walls to let you know that his own release is just on the horizon.

And then, you feel it, your whole body erupting in shocks of pleasure as your climax comes in massive waves. You feel like you are burning hot while your release coats his cock, your cries drown the slick noises of your cum against his thrusts, before you feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest.

“Fuck, I’m coming—” he hisses, and like a huge eruption, he explodes with his own release. His entire body vibrates against yours as he fills your tight channel with every single drop of his cum and it sends your body into another climax. It feels smaller, but almost as intense as the previous one as you feel every drop of anger and frustration, every single want and need, all that have been accumulated for years to be relieved at this very moment.

Seokjin still moves in and out of you as he slowly comes down from his orgasm, while yours settles down into short spasms of pleasure until your body calms beneath him. You open your eyes slowly, blinking away the haze as you take in the sight of him, while his eyes are slowly opening as he finally comes to halt.

At that very moment, when you look into his eyes, you feel content for the very first time and you are starting to see him in a different light. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are just as glossy as yours, his chest is rising and falling rapidly as he takes in deep breaths. His hair is a complete mess, both from your hands when you were kissing him and from his rapid movements when he was fucking you into oblivion. His lips are plumped and slightly parted, and you find yourself wanting to pull him back to you so you could kiss him again. And when you look at him, you no longer feel the same anger that you used to have for him whenever you saw him in the past. Instead, you are starting to feel like you want to see him like this and feel this exact moment with him again.  

To feel the same peacefulness and content that he brings after that wild, intense sex.

Staring into his eyes, you can see every emotion running through him. Everything that seems to mirror your own. His confusion, excitement, his want and need. Everything blurs together into one. For a moment, it feels too overwhelming that you look away from him, only to find yourself wondering why you are not having a hard time dealing with all of this.

The moment you snap out of your thoughts, you notice his eyes trailing up and down, giving you his perusal gaze before his cocky grin returns.

“You know, if only I had known that all I had to do was to fuck you senseless in order to stop us from fighting so much, I would have done it years ago,” he suddenly says, chuckling breathlessly. Meanwhile, you don’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Oh, shut the hell up and just kiss me before you ruin the whole moment, you jackass,” you snap at him, but let your lips spread to a grin when you cannot resist the bubbling laughter slipping out of your mouth right before he does what you asked him to do.

You are both smiling when he kisses you, his lips feel soft and his hands are gentle when he caresses your skin, before slowly taking you into his embrace. The moment a soft groan vibrates from deep inside his chest and his tongue slips through the seam of your lips, you realise that he is probably thinking the same thing you have in mind. That he wants to feel all of it and do everything all over again just as much as you do. And that makes you feel much better about wanting him instead of hating him like you were supposed to.

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping and loud shovelling in the distance.

The room is still quite dark when you finally open your eyes. The fire has died out, but you have some light faintly coming in through the opened small window close by. The sky is still dark outside but the sparks of light from the rising sun are slowly appearing, letting you see everything around you without the help of your flashlights.

The space beside you is empty but the continuous sound of a shovel hitting the ground lets you know where Seokjin is. The air is cold, but not as cold as it was last night. Your body feels sore, for numerous reasons, but at least the pain on your leg has become numb.

Pushing yourself to sit up, you finally realise that you have both your blanket and the one Seokjin was using last night wrapped around your body. No wonder it feels so warm, you wonder with a smile on your face—one that grows wider as you look over to find your clothes all folded so neatly on top of the wooden chest next to you.

You have just finished putting on every piece of clothing on your body—sans the boots—when Seokjin walks into the room.

“It worked!” he says. His whole face and hair are drenched with sweat but he has a huge smile on his face as he lifts up the shovel in his hand. You notice that it is a different one than the one he used last night, with a much bigger size and more dirt on it compared to the one he owns, and he is proud to show it off while explaining, “I went into the toolshed right out front and found this. The ice on the ground has melted a bit and this bad boy did the work in no time.”

“So we can go now?”

“Absolutely,” he says, nodding his head while throwing the shovel away so he could lift you in his arms.

An hour later, Seokjin pulls his truck into the driveway of your family’s cabin.

Your entire family welcomes you at the front door, both with relief for having you finally back home safely and the look of surprise on their faces of seeing you wrapped in Seokjin’s arms as he helps you walk inside. It is not until a few minutes later, after everyone is sitting in the dining room with hot drinks and some light meal for breakfast, when you tell them everything that had happened. Starting from how your car had skidded off the road to how Seokjin found you, only to end up getting stuck together in the Choi family’s old farm—skipping the part of your make up sex by the fireplace—and ensure your father that Seokjin’s friend is on his way to retrieve your car as you are having this conversation.

“We called him on the way here and he told us not to worry about it,” Seokjin tells your father while your mother is busy searching for some medicine in the kitchen. “He’ll call either one of us later to let us know once the car is safe in the auto shop.”

“That’s good,” your father says before he leaves the room to let the younger ones talk in the living room, which basically only includes Seokjin, your brothers, and yourself.

Your oldest brother keeps shaking his head as he listens to the details on how you decided to stay in the old barn and use it as a shelter and how Seokjin managed to get his truck free. “That’s unbelievable,” he wonders loudly while sipping on his coffee. “I wouldn’t have believed it happening if you had told me this any other day.”

“I’m just surprised to see the both of you getting here in one piece without killing each other,” your second brother speaks. Being the one who is closer to you by age and who is also basically your best friend, he is the only other person in the room who knew about your feud with Seokjin since he had been going to the same school as you did. As he looks over between you and Seokjin with a scrutinising gaze in his eyes, you know that you will have some explaining to do with him later. 

A lot of explaining.

Seokjin chuckles as he looks at your brothers. “You know what people used to say about Christmas. What better time to bury some old hatchet than on the most glorious time of the year, am I right?”

Rolling your eyes at him, you only respond to him with, “I have never once heard of that saying, but do go on.” Everyone laughs at your comment, but you quickly adds, “But in all honesty, I think being stranded and meeting each other on the way was an early Christmas blessing.”

“Yeah, it helped us made up,” Seokjin agrees while looking deeply in your eyes.

“That’s good to hear,” your brother speaks with a chuckle, earning all attention to turn to him just as he continues, “For everyone who witnessed the vendetta going on between you two, it was quite intense. I don’t think any one of us love remembering how _____ got suspended from school after she stole your car and left it by the lake with flat tires and scratches all over your new paint. That was a rough one.”  

While your brothers laugh at the memory of your eventful revenge, Seokjin looks at you with his brows raised, demanding some answers.

Oh, that’s right, you wince as you send him a sheepish smile. You knew there was something that you forgot to talk about last night. Judging by the way he grins as your gazes meet each other, you know exactly how to make up and make things right.

Hopefully, you can do it soon.

All Rights Reserved © 2016-2019 Yoonia

Disclaimer: All works are written by myself. Any copyright infringement, reposting on any other social media or website, and any act of plagiarism will be dealt with legal action

[heknewwhoyoureallyare]

In this world there is always two type of guys. An Alpha and a Beta. My name is Jimmy and I’m a beta. This is what I look like:

I have this friend, well sort of, we are roommates. His name is Alaric, Our lives are both miserable, but while I have normal people problems like having trouble loosing weight, having low self esteem, can’t get a girlfriend, have a low paying job which led to difficulties paying the bills, and I have no social life (because I spend to much time playing video games). My roommates have Alpha problems, like how to snatched away the company that his big brother has inherit from their father, how to destroy his competitions in his work field, and how to create his own personal brand in his social media account and gain more followers, which in all honesty he already have plenty of. Oooohhhh and he looks like this:

The only reasons that I said that we are sort of friends its because, it’s true that Alaric and I are roommate, and sometime we talked to each other, during dinner while watching televisions, (right before I go back to my video games). It’s because we couldn’t be anymore different from each other. I’m a nerd and he’s a jock. I came from a lower middle class family, and he’s an old money rich. I have confidence issue and he has to much confidence. I am a follower and he is a natural born leader. I am a good person and Alaric is well Evil. He doesn’t bully me or anything but the thing that he told me especially about the stuff that he do to the people that he hates is extremely shocking and twisted. This guy has everything that he needs and yet his heart is full of nothing but hatred and envy! His minds are full of plots and evil schemes. So one time I took it upon myself, (because I’m a good person), to decide to become an Alpha for once and teach Alaric a lesson! A moral lesson! I snooped around his bedroom, when he’s not at home and I open his laptop. In there I found a file that are filled with his evil plans to take down his big brother and snatched away their father’s company from him. Since I’m a good person, and I’m learning to become more of an Alpha for once, I took the initiative to delete this file. I hope that this action will give him a signal to stop what he’s doing. After I delete this file that are full of his evil plots and schemes towards his perfect older big brother, I also found his other files that are filled with his collections of videos, but not just any videos. His porn videos collection, his forced role play porn videos collections. Not a BDSM videos, but a role play of a beautiful women getting forced to have a sexual intercourse by a guy that almost looks like him, big, strong, tall and has the power to dominate any women that he likes. I feel so disgusted by it, that I decided to deleted this file to, straight away. After he came back, I heard a loud manly scream from his room and when I checked it out, it was Alaric trying to find a file about his plan to destroy his big brother. He asked me where his file has gone, but I replied that I don’t know. He then checked the webcam that he has install in his room (which I am not aware off btw) and saw me deleting everything. He confronted me about this behavior and ask me why would I do such a thing. He thought we were friends. I have no choice but to come clean to him and explained that the reason for me to do this, it’s because I want to teach him a lesson. A moral lesson, about not hurting other people and accept our fate no matter what, without hurting anybody else. He then give me the most evilest glare that I ever seen him in.

And he said, “I trusted you and you have betrayed me! I never hurt you before because I thought we were both at the same side, but apparently, you think that you are better than me, well at least morally anyway. In fact you think you’re better than me so much that you decided to jeopardize my plan for my future and the future of my father’s company and for what? To teach me some big moral lesson? You know what, I will consider you my enemy now, and I will show you what I will do to my enemy especially the one that I think is my equal!” He then packs his bags and left the apartment right away. I was relieved, I thought for a moment there that he’s going to beat me to a pulp and put me in a hospital, but thank God that he doesn’t. Perhaps he was just bluffing, but what does it mean when he said that he consider me as his enemy, that are also his equal. I don’t understand. A couple of months later I have to move out from the apartment that I’m in because someone just bought the ownership of this building and now they want to bulldoze it and turn it into a Mall. Sucks to be me. I have no choice than to go back to my mother’s house and move in back with her. My mother is a very beautiful woman and very faithful to my father, after my father has died. She has never married again. Prim and proper and very religious, she’s always been a very caring woman. This time however I noticed that she has changed:

She dressed in a very sexy way, and there is a certain allure that she has now, that is sort of making me feel uncomfortable, especially as a son. I asked her “Mom, what has changed” and she said “What do you mean?” I asked her again “Why do you dress very sexy now?” And she said “Oooohhh I’m just very anxious for you to meet my new lover that’s all...” I was shocked when I heard her say the ‘L’ word. I thought she’s going to be loyal to my Dad until she passed away. I asked her immediately who is her new Lover, and how many lovers has she had in the past, and she said “Oooohhh calm down honey, this is the first lover that I ever had after your Dad has passed away, he’s very sweet, he’s always helping me around the house when I’m alone! In fact he’s here right now. Would you like to meet him?” I said “Yes”, and a couple of minutes later I heard a familiar voice saying “Hello Son!” And guess who showed up.

It was Alaric. I freaked out and I get angry. I wanted to attack him but he’s stronger than me. My Mom started to try and stop me and asked me what has gotten into me, and I told her everything, about the apartment, the files, the threats everything! My Mom asked him if this is true of which he deny everything. He said that he had never met me once in his life. At that moment, I just realized something, I have no proof to back my claimed up. I don’t even have any social media, to stalked him to. I only know that he has a lot of followers because he has showed me his social media account once. My Mom said maybe the reason why I’m so angry it’s because I haven’t gotten to know him very well, so she decided to give us some quality alone time together. When my Mom leave the room, Alaric started to smirk at me, and said “So what do you think? I told you that I will start treating you like the enemy that I consider equal!” I replied “Alaric please this has come to far, you have to leave my Mother alone! She’s innocent! This is between you and me!” He said “I don’t give a shit! I will destroy everything that you love and you hold dear, just like you did to me, and I will teach you about some big moral lesson about life, and you will start thanking me for it! You even have to start calling me Daddy!” I asked him again “Wait what do you mean? What do you mean that I have to start calling you Daddy?” He said “Your mom and I has gotten engaged!” I replied “Wait What? What do you mean? How? When?” He then smirked again and said “a couple of days ago, it took me a while to seduce her, but she finally gives in. It’s seems that after your Father has died and you have moved out from her house, she has become very lonely. I just have to fucked her once and showed her what she has been missing with, and she couldn’t say no to me ever since!” I asked him “Wait What? You did what?” In which he replied “Yeah you heard me. I fucked your mom! It was the Greatest Fuck that she ever had, she even said that I’m a better fuck than her late husband! Your Father! We Fucked, and we fucked, and we fucked. Sometime we fucked without condom, and I cream pied her a couple of times and we recorded it! We also did that role playing thing that you hate so much from my Laptop. Where she pretend to be this weak innocent woman and I came in to her house and have my way with her and there is nothing she can do to stop me! Yeah we did that!” At this point I don’t know what to say anymore. He then continued by saying “If you ever try to do something funny again to me, and jeopardize my plan for my future, I will post your mom videos to the internet and the world will know what a whore your mother really is!!! Peace out Brotha!!!

I was very angry at him, I tried to taught him a lesson, a good moral lesson in the past and this is how he repaid me. The next couple of days things has gotten really worse. Every night, I couldn’t stop hearing my mother’s voices moaning and groaning in her room while screaming Alaric name over and over again “Oh Alaric, That’s it! YOU are so good! Don’t Stop, Don’t Stop!” She even can’t stop stroking his ego “Oooohhh Alaric you are such a Man! A Big Man!!! A Strong Man! You are much stronger than my first husband!”. I can’t believe she said that! These voices can last for hours and hours. I sometime wonder when will they finally get some sleep! Alaric then take his revenge a step further by starting to wear my father’s clothes and smoke his cigars!

My Mothers even allowed it. Everyday she can’t stop talking about how Alaric is going to be my Stepfather someday! A good Stepfather, even though, she knows that he’s about the same age as I am. I always get angry at her and I tried to talked him out of this, but he refused to listened. He just smirked and continue to do his thing. One time I get a text message from my mom’s phone saying that she needed me in the beach near the house and when I get over there well, guess what I found.

Alaric having his dick sucked at the beach by my mom, in public. No one was there but I guess he just wanted me to see how much control that he has over me and my mom! He texted me using my mom’s phone while he’s getting a blowjob from my mom at public places. Just so that I can see this thing. I can’t stand this anymore, I almost went crazy. I begged Alaric to stop punishing me because of what I did in the past, of which he replied to me“I only wanted to teach you a lesson!” And when I asked him what the lesson that he wanted to teach me, he simply replied with “Never try to teach an Alpha anything, especially about Life, cus he might schooled you on what real life really is!” And just like that I realized that I should never overstep my boundaries by teaching an Alpha anything.

[darkamor37]

I Hate Facebook

Social Media was created to connect to people, but not to disconnect with someone in real life. In within the modern, I don’t think anyone knows the word: Respect and Control. I see a lot people swearing on a normal conversation, especially when you’re talking any toxic related stuff, because they’re bunch of bigoted a-holes. Now, I could see this as an influence to raps, and probably the person who type this is an internet hooker who thinks that swearing rabidly are so cool when they technically don’t understand that word, either that the person who posted it is a kid traps in an adult’s body.

And don’t even start with Facebook. For me, there’s two type of Facebook user, the normal ones, and the techno cavemen. My life was once never disturbed by anyone, I barely even have the interest in our social media because I was busy playing Contra, then some lolicon came to my life and yet... I actually hate Facebook because of what happened between someone I like and our pissing contest.

Facebook or any social media site, in definition, are made as a medium for people to be socialized, but to be decivilized. While my initial hatred was tempt when someone in Facebook were posting too indecent picture without thinking on who will be his audiences. And some of them were minors actually.

But how- on Earth that this things are allowed to be post, just because it is not a link that social media could blocked. 

I was never the biggest fan of Facebook, I admit that everything that’s new is so mundane to me. The only reason I made an FB account because of this guy who’s keeping my blood boiling. Facebook is basically the gateway to ruin your relationship to your love ones. That time, I was using someone’s name to spy this guy, who I’m just gonna call him Captain N.

I had once a friend who I end up being my second love interest and thanks to Captain N, I broke it and now she’s initially afraid me, she doesn’t want to talk to me because I was such an asshole to her and deriding the fact that that Captain N was stabbing me at the back. There’s three reason why I occasionally tried to delete my account for the third time.

One, the Hentais, it’s these type of people that are completely persistent than me that it’s utterly kind of annoying. These “Perarbs” who constantly sending friend request and just begging to send nude pictures of you. For what purpose, because there bunch of bigoted asshole who thinks some Filipina are that dumb when this “Perarbs” are just way too determine to score someone. Well, that’s technically kind of racist but I don’t think there’s anything far worse than being engaged in a scandal.

Now, just think about it for a sec. Facebook is designed for the people around the globe to be socialized, not to be decivilized like some kind of an animal. I don’t understand why they didn’t include them as animal and chained them.

And why is that downloading image from a non-friend is allowed? Like look at this stolen pic and then edited in Photoshop, are you mad?

But the biggest flaw on the design in Facebook is the inability to control friend request and messages whether putting it to your friends only especially in Messenger. Sure you have the option for friend request but what about your messenger.

Now, on my second reason, I confessed that I’m guilty as well about how I went from a raving madman on a rampage because I was so pissed from my second reason. Too much freedom. Because a lot of people in Facebook are just bunch of douchebag who thinks that what they are posting are completely free from technical limitation, this is something that’s violating the Facebook policy, there’s like something so indecent and almost kind of offensive about this kind of people like Captain N and the people are far from immature than me.

Why not stop whining about that and just shut the f up. Sure, you can keep posting this, but don’t you own Facebook to make your rampage as if you’re the greatest human being ever exist.

And it’s kind of bothersome when people like Captain N are using someone’s image and use it to make a dummy account which by the way an ingenious plan to make me suffer for the rest of my life.

And don’t you think that people who went overboard shouldn’t be allow to use Facebook. FB users may have the freedom of speech, but since when the use of freedom of speech turn into abused.

Fake new is nothing new to me, but sending me this pornographic image and claiming that her virginity is my first priority is just the next level of sexual harassment to the person I respect the most. I hate people like Captain N who are essentially a half ass bastard. Because people like you don’t deserve to the right for the freedom of speech. And which is my final reason, the lack of Facebook action in terms of bullying, sexual harassment, and the used of scam and fake news.

Facebook might have been spying on you, but do they do something when a person like him ruins something that’s important to me. My whole life crumbles to depression when he started on taking his revenge on me, making fun at me, making me an egotistic narcissistic who is now rejected by society. Does he even understand what he has done to me?

People think that these kind of joke are funny, well... I hope he laughs at me, because at the end, I will be the one to laugh when he realized that I am still a better person than him. Sure, that’s sound like kind of a hypocritical, but yeah... I’m evil. Because at the end, I asked God since when did I have the right to feel happiness?

I feel like the primitive nature of our past is far from updated and our future is so outdated. Sound so confusing, me either. But I’m a SJW or something, I just need a voice to chance Facebook’s policy in terms of privacy and equality.

But nevertheless, I pondered within my mind and soul that the immorality in social media has becoming far worst, it’s the most complex nature of mankind. You can’t controlled fate, fate controls you, and you by any means is fate itself.

[theautisticquillholder]

Murderous Love Chapter IV

(WARNING: This fanfiction has themes of Suicidal Ideation, Suicide itself, Self harm, Sexual Assualt, Murder, Extreme Bullying and Humiliation and a lot of Mental Illness related content and is NOT appropriate for children and the faint of heart. If you are under 18 or may be triggered by the content of this fanfiction please do not read this.)

Motochika’s POV

Myself and Mitsuhide were relaxing in our mini studio apartment that his parents made for us so that we can live independently while we are minors.

Tomorrow our fight to get Da Ji charged and convicted of sexual assault and distribution of Child Pornography and Loki and Ares charged and convicted as accomplices to Da Ji begins.

I knew Odin and Zeus would not take us putting those three in jail laying down. Mitsuhide was scared, he knew his life would become worse if those three are acquitted of those charges. Thankfully Dousan, Noh’s father is the best lawyer we have and has given us a no win no fee guarantee because he knew that due to Zeus and Odin being rich bastards, we may not get the outcome we want.

I hugged Mitsuhide tightly while singing to him, hoping that my singing would soothe him. I then noticed that Mitsuhide was not calming down at all, he then looked at me saying

“Hide the blades, medication and long cords. Now.”

When I heard that I let go of Mitsuhide and went to do so. I’m so glad Mitsutsuna taught me what to do when Mitsuhide ends up having a manic episode or a depressive episode. I then looked at Mitsuhide asking “Anything else?”

Mitsuhide nodded “My wallet.”

I nodded and hid his wallet as well. I then walked to my beloved and hugged him “I love you, I won’t leave you, you’re a god amongst men, you’re the strongest guy I know, you’re an absolute badass, you’ve survived so much and you’re still here, I’m so proud of you”

Mitsuhide rested his head on my chest smiling. I wasn’t told to tell Mitsuhide nice things about him, I just added that to combat the intrusive thoughts that might come up as he deals with this episode, such as feeling unworthy of anything great in life. He looked at me smiling

“I’m so sorry for having that episode.” He spoke,

I looked at him weirdly before saying “Don’t be sorry for something that is not in your control.”

Mitsuhide looked down “No one wants to hire me so I can’t get a job and I don’t want to rely on my parents to get my medication…”

I soon became worried. I looked at him before letting go of him “I just need to ask your father when dinner is ready”

I then walked out of our studio apartment and towards Mitsutsuna saying “Hey sooooooo I found out why Mitsuhide is having these episodes. He doesn’t want to rely on you to get his medication, even though he knows that you and your wife are more than happy to help him…”

Mitsutsuna froze “Wh-What? O-Oh my god!”

He then picked up his phone and called Ritsuko (Mitsuhide’s mother).

Mitsutsuna then said “So, Mitsuhide has not been taking his medication for his bipolar and his depression…

He doesn’t want to rely on us to get it for him…

I know we had that conversation with him that we’re his parents and if we can’t get him the medication he needs then we don’t deserve the honour of parenthood…

Please just get the medication for him, I’ll have a chat…

Motochika managed to get him to talk about whether or not he’s getting his medication…

Okay, I’ll do that for you”

He then hung up the phone and looked at me saying “Thank you so much for telling us this.”

I nodded “It’s okay, if we can at least get him on his medication for the duration of the Trial we can manage his condition as the trial goes on.”

I then walked back to our mini apartment, Mitsuhide looked at me saying “You told them didn’t you…”

“I’m sorry honey, I had to, they want to help you, please let them help you.” I replied.

I hugged him tightly before Ritsuko arrived and handed me the medication. “Thank you Motochika, I think you’re the man that my son needed.”

I nodded and accepted the paper bag.

THE NEXT DAY

It was the day the trials of Da Ji, Loki and Ares began.

I stood by Mitsuhide’s side as we made our way into the court room. Da Ji glared at us as the evidence was presented.

Soon it was Dousan’s turn to present evidence. He walked to the whiteboard and projector and turned it on soon revealing the Instagram post made by Da Ji that had the photo of Mitsuhide naked lying on the dingy bathroom floor.

Loki, Ares and Da Ji were held back as Dousan revealed the evidence and explained the statements given by myself, Mitsuhide and the school staff who found us in the bathroom.

The trial lasted for about five days and Judge Orochi sent the Jury out to discuss what the verdict is going to be, as we waited for the verdict Loki looked at Mitsuhide saying

“Now you’ve fucking done it, how much attention do you fucking want you whore!”

I blocked Mitsuhide’s ears when Loki opened his mouth to talk.

We then saw the Jury enter the courtroom again and the jury Forewoman Tamamo was asked if Loki was guilty or not guilty.

Tamamo replied “Loki and Ares had the majority vote of not guilty of all charges. While I have voted guilty I believe there has been some form of bribery going on that I do not know about. As a result for the sake of the members of the jury who are sympathetic towards the victim the least the courts should do is grant him the restraining order.”

“OBJECTION BITCH!” was heard, I looked in the direction the voice came from to find that it was Loki, he then looked at the judge saying

“Your Honour, I do not believe that Akechi Mitsuhide should be applying for a restraining order against myself and Ares, the three of us are all minors and there is no need for a kid to be applying for a restraining order against other kids, I believe he is doing this for attention, he imagined everything, that Instagram post is fake and we will take legal action if you allow the restraining order to go through!”

Orochi slammed the podium saying “ORDER IN THE COURT! Mr Loki Asgardian you have spoken enough, do not argue with our jury members again. Tamamo, my apologies for the interruption. Do you find Da Ji guilty or not guilty of the Sexual Assault charges and Child Pornography Charges?”

Tamamo replied “We have found Da Ji guilty of Sexual Assault and Production and distribution of child pornography, however, the majority recommends mercy.”

I saw Tamamo roll her eyes, I could tell that she has tried to get us the justice we deserve.

Orochi looked at everyone saying “Loki Asgardian and Ares Olympus are acquitted of all charges and I sentence Da Ji to four months in juvenile detention” he then grabbed the hammer and hit the hammer puck to make the sentence final.

Mitsuhide soon started crying but these tears are not happy ones, they’re tears of sadness and anger.

I called out to Orochi saying “THAT IS NOT FAIR! HOW DO YOU SLEEP AT NIGHT KNOWING YOU LET THEM OFF SO LIGHTLY!? THEY DESTROYED MITSUHIDE’S LIFE! AND AN ACQUITTAL FOR THE ACCOMPLICES AND A FOUR MONTH SENTENCE IS ALL YOU GIVE THEM!?  MITSUHIDE WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO LIVE THE CLOSEST POSSIBLE THING TO A NORMAL LIFE WHILE THESE CRIMINALS ARE RUNNING FREE!”

Orochi looked at me with a sullen look saying “I’m sorry, this is the best I can do…”

“FINE IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO GIVE US THE JUSTICE WE DESERVE THEN I’LL GET IT MYSELF! AND THAT IS NOT A THREAT IT IS A PROMISE!” I shouted as I picked Mitsuhide up and walked out.

Four months for raping Mitsuhide then taking a photograph of him in the nude without his consent and posting it on the internet is unbelievable! What do we get!? Stuck with the trauma and having those assholes smiling like fucking crazy because they got away with it.

“Mr Chosokabe?” I heard that which brought me back to reality, I turned around still carrying Mitsuhide bridal style.

The person calling out to me was Tamamo. She walked to me and handed me a folder “Here. I have made it a rule that any communication between the prosecution or defence and the jury must be screenshot and sent to me. If you do anything rash that could get you in bigger trouble with the law these might help you justify it. These are all of the messages from the defence bribing the majority of the jury to give a not guilty verdict or if it has to be a guilty verdict to prevent suspicion recommendation of mercy.”

Mitsuhide took the folder while I had tears in my eyes said “Thank you so much, you’re so sweet”

Tamamo giggled saying “Don’t thank me, thank Kaguya, another juror for bringing this up. She was suspicious of the defence for a while and was a bit annoyed that she wasn’t the jury forewoman, I told her that if she needed to talk to me about what was happening in the court I am happy to listen. This was what she presented. Good luck taking matters in your own hands, I will be supporting you from afar.”

I nodded as we walked to the car. I placed Mitsuhide in the middle back seat, he put his seatbelt on as I sat next to him.

Hades was driving us as he was given a note by Mitsuhide’s parents stating that they are unable to bring us to the courthouse. When Hades got in the car he then screamed loudly “FUCK YOU ZEUS YOU PIECE OF SHIT! I FUCKING HATE YOUR GUTS! YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE WHY THE FUCK MUST THE WORLD LET YOU BE SO PRIVELEGED THAT YOU COULD JUST FUCK UP A FUCKING TRIAL LIKE THAT YOU FUCKING PERVERTED PLAYBOY ASSHOLE I HOPE YOU FUCKING ROT IN HELL!”

I blocked Mitsuhide’s ears as Hades screamed. When he was finished Hades looked at us with tears in his eyes saying “I’m calling your parents and asking if I can take you two somewhere for icecream and shopping to cheer you up.”

He then did so, explaining the situation, thankfully both my and Mitsuhide’s parents approved of this before we could leave a guy with silver hair and aqua streaks in his hair got in the car and looked at Hades and kissed his forehead saying

“Hey Hades, baby, what’s wrong?”

Hades looked at the guy saying “My younger brother is a privileged asshole Yang Jian… he made my mental health client lose his court case…”

Yang Jian kissed Hades’ forehead again saying “I’m guessing a repeat of us when we were sixteen? Everyone pulled the ‘they didn’t know better they’re only little’ garbage?”

Hades nodded he then said “I have asked my client and his boyfriend’s parents if I could take them out for ice cream and shopping to cheer them up. If you want you can go somewhere else while I do this”

Yang Jian looked at Hades saying “which client is it?”

“Akechi Mitsuhide” Hades replied.

Yang Jian replied “You referred Mitsuhide to the place I work for and they chose me to be his mental health support worker. This is the perfect opportunity to get to know him, even if I spend the entire time with him in silence, building rapport does not require talking at the first instance.”

Hades nodded before turning on the ignition and driving to the next town over. I’m willing to assume to keep us away from Ares and Loki so we can have some time to breathe and be happy before we get thrown through the gauntlet of bullying for trying to throw people in jail.

When we got to the mall Yang Jian looked at us asking Mitsuhide “Hey, is it okay if we just spend time together just you and me? Hades will look after Motochika for you.”

I looked at Mitsuhide who replied “O-Okay b-but if we see those two no ifs, whats or buts, I’m finding Motochika and staying with him.”

Yang Jian nodded “I understand, I want to make sure you’re comfortable and safe.” Mitsuhide put the folder in my satchel, grabbed his Lapras plush doll and his handbag and went with Yang Jian while I stayed with Hades.

I looked at Hades asking “’A repeat of us when we were sixteen’? Are you saying that this has happened before!?”

Hades nodded sadly “Yes. Not to this scale, but my parents never approved of Yang Jian, they acted like Yang Jian was a bad influence on me. I wanted to pursue a career in mental health, so did he.

My parents wanted an accountant. But because of the fact that my parents hated Yang Jian, Zeus gets to be a dick to me and not get in trouble for it.

Which sucked… and it also sucks knowing that he gets to get away with letting his son and his friends do what they want with light consequences…”

I nodded and we went to a musical instrument store because I wanted to get a new shamisen.

[letsgetfreakydeaky]

New Warriors: And Everything That Could Be Changed

I want to rename and redesign all the New Warrior characters because JESUS, they really...

It was good, in theory. But the execution...

I just want to change it.

B-Negative: (Van) Hellsing(taking the name of the people who hunted him and his kind and turning it against them. He has become the hunter, the hero everyone thought he wouldn't. And he's doing it in style.) Dude has typical vampire powers, superspeed/agility, drinks coconut juice(as it can be used for blood transfusions, I think) and animal blood, raw meat and has the normal aversion towards holy stuff, garlic--sad, he likes italian food--and sunlight, to which he combats by wearing black and shit all the time and people call him a goth, doesn't like being called an emo or confused for one, despite the fact he listens to MCR and PTAD--Transmission suggested he go with 'Twilight' as his hero name and Hellsing nearly killed him, he forgot one of his teammates had shield powers--Then Transmission had tried 'Ghoul' because Tokyo Ghoul, and it nearly worked.

"The world sucks...and so do I."

Likes shit from the 80s, 90s, early 00s.

Trailblazer: I don't really hate the name, but she don't do much besides be a neon Dora the Explora, Miraculous Ladybug lovechild knock-off. Maybe Dimeno? Like, short for Dimension?

Her powers aren't a backpack in my version, she literally has the powers to make pocket dimensions, to which she can store shit in and possibly hide in(a literal safe space? Heh. Safe haven.) She makes and focuses a main, constant pocket dimension in her backpack given to her by her grandfather--too old to take care of her, so she's in a foster home--as making multiple pocket dimensions would tire her out and possible tear a hole in the universe and mess it up. She can put in all types of shit to always be prepared, but taking shit out can be random, maybe? Leader type, innovative, helper type person--my god would want me to help those in need--stuff like that. Happy person, doesn't think of herself as a hero and doesn't really desire fame or fortune, just wants to help. Always knows what to say. Wants to provide for her friends and 'family', and now she has the power to.

Screentime: Transmission(Anime nerd. Constantly hooked up to the web and making pop culture references--think of Abed from Community--hacker of the team, smart af, doesn't get sick from physical illnesses, only digital "viruses", get it? Tinkerer? Maybe? Knows how to make smoke bombs and other gadgetry(for himself and his other teammates) because he can google. Has gone on the deep web at least once. Has checked his grandfather's search history at least once. Not experiences he'd like to repeat. His powers come from him being a tecnopath, an experimental chip put in his head(by his grandfather)(no internet gas here) Hates being compared to Ben-10, or called a Ben-10 cosplayer, something his team uses against him when he starts to get to big for his britches. Doesn't use a phone, uses his brain, you can bet he's almost constantly watching hardcore porn or twitch-streaming his letsplays and begging his friends for pity views and likes)Also he's basically like a walking wifi hot spot so techy people are naturally drawn to him and want to stand near him. Infinite knowledge. Shit-post generator. Maybe he wants to be hero for the social media clout? It'd be funny, he streams his battles.

Snowflake: Artic or Glacier, maybe. Also anime nerd because that's the only damn explanation for making shurikens, they love naruto, naruto is love, naruto is life--but lets expand on the ice and have them make any type of weapons with their ice, axes, spears, swords, maybe they'll have a ninja theme going on with a Katana and their brother will tease them for it. They're more of an offensive fighter, leaving the shielding and protecting to their brother. They'll dodge and/or hop away, but most of their force comes behind their ice. They're more of the serious type, with their icey demeanor. They're a strategist, one who holds long grudges and builds high defenses to hide their true self from others

Safe Space: Armory, or Aegis if I'm feeling it.

Jock with a big heart because I love those types, makes the jokes, would fight for his friends, would die for his friends and I'd die for him. A beefy guy who can throw a punch and tackle and the way his fights is more brutal due to his football training?? Transmission obviously makes him gadgets so he doesn't fucking die in battle cause he can barely protect himself, so he wears pretty flexible armor to fight with. Sporty bro, on football team, tank of the superhero team. Likes pink and shit, no toxic-masculinity here, a damn gentleman and desires to protect the people he loves and the people of this city(if he can make shields for other people, can he just surround a bad guy with them and crush them to death? Or just trap them??) Selfless boy. But if it ever came down to his sibling over the city...his friends over the world....he doesn't know what he'd do.

The man don't stand for bullying and shit.

Now I must draw them. I must.

[melalot]

Confused

archive of our own link

8 Years Old

Lance was having recess outside in the school playground when he saw a group of kids circling around this boy. He noticed how all the students were quiet and very tuned interested in what one of his classmates had to say. He had never seen so many kids listen to someone this way, not even the teachers. Curiosity got the best of him so he trotted his way over to see what was grasping everyone's attention.

When he got close enough to hear the boy said, "And they told me they were gay!" Lance thought to himself. Gay? What does that mean?

Luckily enough another kid seemed to have the same question as him. "What is that? What does gay mean?"

The boy who was sharing this new word look at his classmate and began to explain.

"It's when two boys date, like a girl and a boy, do. But my mom told me it wasn't normal and that it wasn't okay."

Everyone's eyes went wide, they had never heard about two boys dating. Lance had never heard of this either, he doesn't even think much of dating, he's 8.

Before the conversation could continue the teachers started calling out to the students meaning that recess was over and instruction time was going to continue.

As Lance started getting in alphabet order to line up for class, he couldn't help but think about what he just heard.

It isn't natural the boy had said. It's not okay, the boy had continued.

And Lance thought to himself, why is it not?

xxxxxxxx

12 Years Old

Lance was in 6th grade now. While all the other kids went to a regular middle school, he went to attend the Galaxy Garrison. It was a school for those that wanted to be part of the space program.

Lance had always dreamed of becoming a fighter pilot and flying a space ship to Mars.

He got lucky enough to get into the Garrison, but even though it was a school to prepare you to go up into space, you still had to take the same curriculum you would normally take in a typical middle school.

And honestly, Lance appreciated that. He needed a sense of being normal. He needed work that wouldn’t be the same thing constantly and that it wouldn’t bore him. He also needed that sense to fit in with the outside world, and know more than just about space, he wanted to know how to live in the real world and real struggles.

Thinking about struggles, Lance remembered about his crush on Jenny. She was this girl in his grade with blonde hair and green eyes, she had small freckles plastered across her face and she just had the cutest laugh. Lance had gotten small crushes on other girls over the years, but those were ones that went away after a week. Lance had a crush on Jenny since the day he had laid eyes on her, and it hasn’t stopped.

Lance had tried using what his brother Marco had taught him about flirting. He even picked up some of his lines, and he didn’t think they were bad if he said so himself. But this new transition of puberty had started to take a toll on him.

A few weeks back, Lance was at the beach with some of his friends from the Garrison because they decided to head out there before the cold season came. And something about seeing his friends shirtless had really taken Lance aback. He started to stare, but once he realized he was staring, he tried to keep it cool. Just something about seeing them without a shirt sparked something in Lance that he didn’t know was possible. He blames puberty affecting a hormonal behavior onto him.

Now Lance had sort of the same experience in the locker room. He would try not to look at other guys and became rather uncomfortable and dreaded the days they had to change in the locker room. Lance was so scared of someone catching him stare, so Lance had found a solution which was to often stare at the ground and at his own shoes instead of paying attention to the others.

As he was about to finish tying the knot, he felt someone slide onto his bench on the left. He stopped the movement of his fingers and looked up to see who it was. It was a guy named Tim from his math class. They had talked a couple of times but not much, they usually had minimal conversations when training since they only knew each other in that class.

He tried for a smile. “Hey Tim, what’s up?”

Tim smiled, but his smile started to become rather uncomfortable.

“Hey Lance, I just wanted to ask you about something.”

“Sure, what is it?”

Tim’s head faced forward and he pointed at a boy with black hair and pale skin, though Lance could only see him from the back and couldn’t really tell who it was.

“Doesn’t it make you kind of uncomfortable?”

Lance was confused. “What would?”

Tim cleared his throat and looked around awkwardly, “You know…He’s gay and he is in the boys locker room, doesn’t it make you think he might try something?”

Oh my God.

Oh my god.

Lance couldn’t believe he was hearing this. As Lance grew older he had been more exposed to gay people and LGBT+ people in general. He had heard about kids not being accepted just because of who they loved, kids committing suicide, and kids being disowned by their families and rejected by others. He also heard about them being bullied.

Now he can’t believe he was experiencing it directly.

He wanted to tell the kid he is wrong for thinking that, and that he should mind his own business. But he felt like something was preventing him, and he didn’t know what. So instead he just looked at the boy and back at Tim.

“Nah, chill dude, just mind your own business and ignore him and nothing will happen.”

Lance finished tying his shoes and rushed over to the track field, he didn’t want to deal with this bullshit.

xxxxxxxx

13-14 Years Old

Lance had to complete and assignment for English class and it was an argumentative essay. He had to pick topics that would affect many people. So his teacher wanted them to tell her their topics today, or they could submit it in a note. Lance was in his dorm room and started searching for topics on the internet that he could use for his essay.

It was when he came across the LGBT+ section that something started to draw him in.

He looked to both sides of his room and the hallway to make sure no one was around. Once it was clear that no one would catch him, he clicked on the heading.

Doing this made Lance think back to the times he would watch YouTube videos of LGBT+ people. He liked learning about what they were going through and wanted to have somewhat of an understanding of what they go through so that maybe one day if someone needed it. He would have some sort of knowledge of what to expect.

But doing this also reminded Lance of how he would have multiple tabs open to switch tabs in case one of his parents or siblings saw his screen. Since his family mainly knew Spanish, they couldn’t really read what he was doing. But seeing something on a screen they probably would.

Lance hated that he felt like he was doing something wrong, and he was ashamed of it. It’s not that Lance was afraid of his family seeing this. He knew his family was perfectly accepting of everyone. But he couldn’t help but be scared about those few family members that seemed uncomfortable of the idea. He also didn’t want to give them the wrong idea that their son could be gay when he wasn’t.

Thinking back on this made Lance realize that maybe he shouldn’t do his topic on LGBT+ rights. So he exited the page and looked for a different topic.

xxxxxxx

Space

Over the course of the past few months, things had gone crazy.

To start off, Lance had gotten stuck in space with this blue lion along with Hunk, Pidge, Keith, and Shiro.

Then he saw an alien warship and wormholed to another planet, light years away from Earth.

After that, he met these 2 aliens on a castle ship, and he found out about this whole galactic war that could affect the whole universe.

And to say the least, after now being back on Earth after 5 years of not seeing his family or his home planet. He felt relief.

Well until other problems came up.

The war was over and they had defeated Haggar. The Garrison decided to cover them up with money since they fought and risked their lives to protect Earth.

But now Lance has personal problems.

You see, Lance is a very flirty guy. He had lots of crushes back in the Garrison like Jenny who he got over after a year and many other girls. And on space he flirted with aliens from left to right, being suave was his thing.

But being isolated in space made Lance realize a lot of things. One of them being that he is capable of having heart-wrenching feelings.

Lance knew he was a romantic guy, it was in his blood, but after so many years of flirting with girls and being rejected, he really didn’t think it would get anywhere. Plus they weren’t any major feelings either, so he decided to just keep up the act.

Until he met Princess Allura. Nobody could deny she was beautiful. Her crystal blue and purple eyes were so mesmerizing and her white poofy long hair was gorgeous. And above all she was a Princess that fought day and night in this war.

At first Lance just flirted with her because she was pretty. But then it got serious.

When he saw who Allura was in the inside he was drawn to who she was as a person. Lance started to fall hard.

He thought multiple times that maybe he should tell Allura about his feelings, but he always decided against it. That she probably wouldn’t take him seriously.

Allura found out anyway. The mice snitched. But Allura did not choose Lance in the end. She was after Lotor, and honestly, after a while, Lance realized that was who she was meant to be with, especially after he cleared up his past. They were made for each other.

Moving on was a process, but he managed to get through it. But Lance couldn’t help but think that something played a factor in making the process easier to get by.

Keith.

It was weird for Lance to think that Keith had a role in him moving on faster, but ever since Keith had come back to the team, Lance was taken upon the task of being his right hand and co-leader. So being focused on his missions helped a lot.

Or was it the missions?

Lance was in denial. And he knew it.

Even when Lance was moping over Allura, he had started to realize many things, and it wasn’t until Keith came back that he realized them.

Back when Lance was still a cadet at the Garrison, he had made up this rivalry with Keith. Keith didn’t really know Lance, and Lance knew that Keith never noticed him. But Lance was destined to score higher and to be better than the best pilot in his class.

So he made up this indirect rivalry, that he would talk about endlessly with Hunk. He even swore that he hated Keith.

But then Keith got booted from the Garrison. And honestly, it made Lance upset, but he tried not to show it. He doesn’t exactly know why he was upset, Keith was his rival, the one he swore he hated. He should have been happy that he took Keith’s spot now.

But lucky enough for him he got the chance when they rescued Shiro, and that is when Lance had made it obvious to Keith that he hated him.

Over time in space, Lance tried to let go out the act. He realized it was childish and that maybe instead he should try being Keith’s friend. If there was one thing about Lance it was this feeling he had about comforting others when they need it, and that’s what Lance did when Keith was distraught and stressed about Shiro disappearing.

When Shiro came back, Lance had noticed the one paladin too many issues and decided to talk about it with Keith because he was the current leader.

Or maybe it was because he saw Keith as a friend.

He shrugged it off.

Lance can admit that Keith is not the best person to talk to when you’re feeling down. But Lance still walked out of that room with a surge of emotions.

“And Lance. Leave the math, too Pidge.”

He couldn’t help but smile. Now Lance thought he could do this, he could be Keith’s friend.

But Keith left.

And reflecting on it now, Lance was devastated. He felt a void within him without Keith being there, without someone he can make fun of, without someone he can pick a fight with.

And Lance didn’t want to admit to himself, but he missed Keith.

Seeing Keith again after so many months boosted Lance’s mood, and he felt like he could be himself at the speed of a tick.

Keith rejecting his hug, made Lance sadder then it should have. And when Lance had some time to reflect on all that was happening. He started to question himself.

Do I like Keith?

No, I don’t. I’m straight, I like girls, and have only liked girls all my life.

But what if you do? A voice at the back of his mind said.

And Lance hated it, he started to cry. Ever since he was a kid there was this annoying voice that told Lance he was in denial about his feelings for guys. And no matter how many times Lance told that voice to shut up and assured himself that he only liked girls, it only came back that much faster, making it much harder to escape from it. And here it was again. Haunting him. And Lance didn’t know what to do this time. Could he really be into guys? Could he be into two polar opposite people at the same time?

Lance couldn’t think.

xxxxxxxx

Present

After thinking it through, Lance decided he should talk to Shiro. Taking it into account that the real Shiro was back, Lance knew Shiro might know somewhat of what he was going through.

He knew Shiro has a fiancé back on Earth named Adam. It was no secret in the Garrison that the record-breaking Takashi Shirogane was in love with a man.

So Lance knocked on Shiro’s door, taking in a deep breath. I can do this.

The door opened and Shiro’s eyes went wide in surprise.

“Lance? What brings you here?”

Lance gave him a nervous smile. “Hey Shiro, I hope you’re doing good. I was wondering if we can talk?”

Shiro rose his eyebrows up in surprise but directed Lance over to the couch of his office. Shiro set down some water for the both of them and made himself comfortable on the seat in front of Lance.

“So, what did you want to talk about?”

Anxiety started to kick in and his nerves were alarmed. Lance couldn’t believe he was doing this.

“Shiro I-“ Lance stared at the floor, not wanting to meet Shiro’s eyes.

C’mon Lance, just say it, spit it out.

Say you like guys.

But he couldn’t.

A tear started spilling out of Lance’s eye and his throat was closed up. He felt a weight of emotions on his chest that he wanted to leave but they just couldn’t.

“Woah! Lance! Buddy!” Shiro rushed over to Lance’s side and placed his left arm on Lance’s shoulder and rubbed it. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Did something happen?”

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Shiro, what if…What if I like guys?”

More tears started to fall.

It took a few seconds before Shiro processed this new information, but then he finally found a way to put it into words.

“Is this new for you Lance?”

He nodded.

“Are you scared of your feelings?”

Water started filling up his eyes again, but he tried to hold them back and nodded.

“Do you have a problem with people of the same gender liking each other?”

“No!” Lance sobbed. “I-I don’t really know, I’ve always been accepting of others and I believed in equal rights for everyone and that gays should be happy! And I-I don’t know why…Why I’m so scared of these feelings when it comes to me having them. I’ve always liked girls, only girls, I grew up around people that weren’t accepting of it, even though my own family was accepting of it, I’ve been terrified my whole life, Shiro!”

Shiro tried to speak but Lance cut him off, the words kept vomiting out of his mouth.

“I started looking back on my past life, to see if there were any clues leading up to me feeling this way, and there were so many. I’ve been in denial my whole life because I’ve been so scared of what people would think of me. And I know its stupid and that I shouldn’t give a fuck, but I can’t help but think how uncomfortable others would be around me and I can’t help knowing I’m making someone feel that way because of who I like. This annoying voice in the back of my head keeps haunting me Shiro and I want it to stop! Please! How do I make it stop Shiro? How do I stop being so scared? How do I stop being so scared of my own feelings? I tried everything Shiro, I tried being straight, I tried flirting with girls, I-I made dumb rivalries up. God just, please. What if I go to hell for this?”

Lance couldn’t say any more, he had let it all out. He thinks he even let out about his crush on Keith but he doesn’t care, his feelings are out and he doesn’t know if he feels relieved or scared.

Once Lance settled down Shiro started to talk.

“Listen, Lance. I know this is hard, and not everyone is going to be accepting of this. And everyone accepts themselves at their own time. But you Lance? You’re really strong for keeping this in for so long. You’ve been in denial your whole life, there is no secret about it. But your ways of coping with it weren’t smart. You’ve been supportive and accepting of everyone else, its time you do the same for yourself. You should have just let yourself feel.”

Let yourself feel.

Those words rang in Lance’s head, and he didn’t think he could cry anymore but here he was, breaking down into tears. He hugged Shiro and sobbed on his shoulder. He apologized for being such a mess, but Shiro only supported him.

And suddenly, Lance remembered why he considered Shiro his hero back at the Garrison. He was openly gay and a record-breaking pilot. He was always so brave and owned who he was every single day. And every time Lance had strived to be just like that.

It was only now that Lance found out exactly why he wanted to be like that, and he sobbed even harder.

When Lance stopped crying, he drank some of the water Shiro had given him and tried to clam down.

He looked at Shiro and smiled. He made a good choice talking to Shiro.

“So Lance.”

“Yeah?”

A smirk was forming on Shiro’s face. “So what is this rivalry you made up with someone?”

And Lance couldn’t help but laugh. He began talking about Keith. He felt himself get lighter and lighter as he let this out.

But Lance finally understood now, even if it would take him some time, he knew what he had to do now.

Let yourself feel.

[3500things]

national coming out day 2019

originally posted 10.11.2019 on my personal facebook page

To everyone:

National Coming Out Day is today, Friday October 11, 2019.

And I know this post is late. I realize it is after midnight on the east coast so technically it isn’t National Coming Out Day anymore, but something happened tonight that was monumental- and I didn’t get to finish my initial thought while writing earlier. Keep reading, please:

I am excited to celebrate in my first National Coming Out Day, in 2019, as an officially-out member of the gay community. However, today has been very emotional as it causes me to pause for a moment and reflect on my own journey and how I arrived here. As I am reading articles and newsfeeds on the internet today and seeing people compelled in the acceptance and encouragement of this day, to come out, I must say I have very pointed and mixed emotions.

I have mentioned and identified myself as a gay man in a few blogs that I have written recently (that I am sure nobody reads), however, this is really the first time I have publicly acknowledged it as a whole on Facebook- other than to those who I have directly come out to. I have taken pleasure in promoting myself as an ally for a few years now, but I am tired of hiding behind that identity and am ready to step out into the light and live a full, unfiltered and authentic life.

I have known I was different for a long time. I felt feelings as a young child that I simply did not understand, and those feelings did not go away- they never have and only intensified over time. I was raised in an extremely conservative-Christian household, taught that being gay was an immoral and unnatural thing, I got the hellfire and brimstone speech and I was encouraged and forced to speak hate towards things that were supposedly against God. And I did those things. And I hurt people. And I never wanted to do them. But, I always knew that I was what I was forced to speak out about.

I became extremely depressed and suicidal in my teenage years. I tucked away my true self and I damaged myself mentally and physically with the rhetoric I was forced to digest. I never felt like I could be me, until now. In this moment. But getting to this point hasn’t been easy. It has been countless therapy sessions, panic attacks, many nights crying myself to sleep and length of time to get me to finally accept myself and allow myself to explore with the God-given (yes, God-given) gift that being gay has ultimately brought me.

Let’s talk about God for just a quick moment. Know that I am a spiritual person but there is no religion here. Not a drop.

You can throw Genesis 19, Leviticus 18 & 20, Romans 1:18-32, 1 Corinthians 6:9-10 and 1 Timothy 1:8-10 at me all day. The Bible says what it says, but it does not mean anything to me personally. The Bible was a manuscript that was written for an ancient time, in an ancient time and does not take into consideration the advancements in human thought and condition over the many years since its inception. The Bible should not be a standard to compare, govern nor should it be used as a tool ultimately control how people live nowadays. Without discrediting the text itself, I do believe there are great life-lessons to be learned from the Bible about love and how to conduct yourself in a more upright way. However, I believe that taking the current Christian argument to the case of homosexuality is the wrong thing to do. And I will vehemently disagree with anyone who does this. It is damaging. It is hurtful and it adds no real value to anything.

Contrary to what religious types will argue, being gay is not wrong. It is not ungodly; it is not a sin and gay people will not go to Hell- even if there is such a place. Being gay is way more than a physical thing. It is an emotional intelligence, it is the idea of love, acceptance and tolerance that comes with a huge responsibility. Being gay is not defined by who you love or choose to be intimate with or enter into marriage with. It is not a choice; it is a reality, a truth, a tangible thing. It is also a greater expansion of oneself, ones spirit and your ability to express love and accept love.

Saying that I was a repressed gay man until the age of 34 is the understatement of the year. I wanted so desperately to explore my sexuality in high school, when at age 16 I decided that I had struggled long enough with trying to figure out what being gay meant and finally internally accepted that I was.

However, I didn’t have the freedom to operate in or express my sexuality, as a teen in my household, at the time. I got bullied in school for not dating women, so I did, and I eventually married a woman. Several years in, while trying rather unsuccessfully at keeping the charade going and while being accused almost daily of being a closeted gay man- we divorced. I had to lie to my friends and family, I had to create a scenario where I was the good guy and she was the bad guy and she did all these things that contributed to the breakdown in our marriage. I wanted something that I felt like I couldn’t have at the time and I couldn’t be the partner she needed much less deserved. We are both better people apart than we ever were together and marrying her is the single biggest regret in my life.

As I’ve grown older and started to formulate my own opinions and ideas about things, I decided to distance myself from my faith and seek a journey of my own understanding. Part of that journey was finally resolving in this year to come out to friends and family.

I told everyone by the end of July, except my dad. I know his opinion of gay folks- he has made it clear. Nothing derogatory of course, but the ignorance to it shows through sometimes. I also know where he stands from a religious perspective- he has also made that clear. He has accepted my friends who are gay, he wants to meet my new friends who are RubiGirls, see a drag show and he wants to know things or ask things but is sometimes hesitant to do it.

I’ve been on an exposure-therapy campaign with him over the past several months. I put a pride flag in my bedroom, some drag queen paraphernalia went on display, I went to 2 Pride celebrations this year- one in Dayton and the other in Cincinnati. He knows what I’m doing is out of the ordinary for me because I’ve never done it before but have always wanted to and have been interested in it. I wanted to go to a Pride event for many years, but I just couldn’t do it. So, as I’ve slowly been exposing him to things and being a little more vocal about my standpoints and viewpoints on LGBTQIA+ issues in the news and culture, he has started to gather and form an opinion.

Today, I was reading a page on Facebook that stated it was a moderated safe space for individuals who were not out to talk and share their stories. What I read was heartbreaking; just the sheer ignorance of parents and things they say to their children just for being gay. I wanted to talk to dad about it, and I did. I told him some of the terrible things that happened to people- mostly issues between sons and fathers- and he expressed to me his disgust with families disowning children just for being gay. I understand and fully appreciate his comment of “…well, I don’t understand it totally, but I’d want my kid to be happy and healthy. There are bigger ‘crimes’ than being gay.”

This ultimately led into a 90+ minute conversation where I was able to tell him how I felt and my entire 16-year backstory. There is more to discuss between he and I, but my tone was measured and precise. The main thing I needed to say, in order to heal myself, be true to myself and allow myself to advance in my life were these 4 words: Dad, I am gay.

We talked and talked some more. He is not mad, a little confused (which is a normal response), and more reflective. He expressed to me that he wants me to be happy, healthy and to make wise decisions (typical dad advice). He also said he loves me and supports me, and always will, regardless of any decision I make – good or bad – in my life.

What a relief this is! On my first real National Coming Out Day I was able to finish writing the prologue of my story of becoming the person I always knew I could be. I am starting to write the chapters of my new life around all the garbage that is in the past. It’s a new day and I am ready to face it with the full support and love of my parents by my side. I truly am blessed and lucky to have this experience play out as it did. A lot of people do not get what I have, and I am very fortunate.

For those of you who need support in whatever journey you may be on, reach out to me if you feel comfortable in doing so. I’m a safe person to come out to. If you’re reading this and you have questions, contact me too. I’m an open book- ask away. If you’re reading this, and you have nothing positive or of value to say then move on.

Thanks for allowing me to share my life so unfiltered and express that vulnerability on the internet for all to consume. This goes a long way in my healing and with moving forward in my life. And, thank you to all of those who have supported me in the past several months as I have made declarations to you about my life. Your love and support mean the world to me and I can never thank you enough.

Love, Jacob

[wcamino-confessions]

Phantom talks to damn much

Seeing how the clan leadership reacts to the confessions blog isn't surprising. In fact,I I'm stunned that a screenshot leak hadn't occurred  sooner considering the popularity of the community. However, I can say it's very easy to judge what the community and its participating members are when sitting in an onlookers perspective. Before the discord chat in particular, it was more common to find people who viewed the confessions community as a location of pure toxicity and mindless hatred. I have had Moonfur speak to me in a conversation in the past about my own and others usage of the blog.

At the time, we used it mostly to vent and I can say that the blog has evolved in it's silent and progressing evils. These are toxic and generally harmful members of the confessions community. Denying that is the same as denying the foundation in which the blog itself was built on. However, this toxicity is born from the community itself. The blog did not come from nowhere. Keep in mind that the WA leadership team IS ACTIVE in the discord. The true community are the ones who come off anon and participate actively within the discord and uphold rules that prevent immense negativity. In fact, the mod actively manages mindless witch hunts by removing the ones that contain obvious bullying with ZERO reasons behind it [though I do enjoy the ones that go, “this person sucks, don't argue or @ me about this because I don't want to hear it”].

However, negative comments regarding dissatisfaction with certain existences within the community is not by any forms of “bullying”. It's very easy to mess up, but it's a thousand times more difficult to redeem your public view once a standard has been set. Confessions send warnings of caution to users to re-examine and consider relationships and the personalities of those in question. Some are obviously bullshit if we're being realistic about it. “This person's commission prices are too high,” or “such and such a person treated me poorly, but there are probably some hidden circumstances that we're not mentioning.” These exist everywhere in day to day life and it is the fault of viewers if they take everything they hear at face value. Anyone who has seen Fox News versus CNN should be aware of how everything that is stated can be biased and questionable in context. You always hear number 45 mentions taking down CNN and the New York Times because they broadcast a different view than they would like to see printed. Another example is the ever so popular Pkrussel argument that swamps the Warriors community as of late. Some claim that Pkrussel's “critiques” are valid and become defensive when others point out the other side of the argument.

The reality is, there will always be a separate viewpoint that may make others unhappy. Yes, they may paint users in a bad light. However, recognizing that you've changed or the whole story isn't being told is on YOU. It's not the fault of the users who speak out to make sure they are 1 on 1 buddy buddy and know everything that's currently going on in the lives of the person they're speaking of. Hell, what happened to Astro should prove this well enough! There were people being SCAMMED while those who were close to and defending Astro potentially didn't know. That's not to say that Astro is not a great person outside of what they did, but is it hard to understand why others might see things differently? People who had run-ins with people on bad days will have a different perspective and understanding than others who didn't since first impressions do mean everything. Another good way of looking at it is school. Ever heard an F is heavier than and A? You could be a straight A student, but I assure you if you don't do too hot on a few assignments that will change really quickly. Doesn't mean you're a bad student, but that's just how it works. You have to be held accountable for your failures and it's up to you to make enough A's to win back favor.

It's also not anyone's job but the followers of the blog and maybe their parents [if you really want to play that game] to ensure that kids are aware of how to judge the truth of a situation. I don't give a hot diggity god damn what regular members say about leadership team activity of clans or WA itself because we have no way of knowing if they aren't focusing more on management of higher issues that we have know way of knowing about. Maybe it's an age or experience thing, but it feels like common sense to take certain things with a grain of salt. Now if another LT member starts talking, sure I'll listen. They are someone who is a far more reliable resource than LittleBittyKitty69 the whateverclan warrior because they have access to the information that under normal circumstances, no one else in the clan would know. Why do you think people are always asking for screenshots on the blog when people start claiming stuff is going on? Because more people than you think get that taking everything you see and hear at face value is far more idiotic than it may be presented. Remember Lionclan and the edited screenshots that Nightfur, Four and Goldeneyes presented to incriminate Primal and Rain without revealing the context behind what was really going on behind the scenes? The cultish mindsets that they put in the members to make them vulnerable and more open to their influence? The way they victimized themselves without ever showing their own or others responses? Sure, there are people who will lie to you on this blog, but really it happens everywhere. If you can’t make decisions yourself on how to handle these presented issues then honestly you probably need to take a break from the internet and examine the important details you might have missed as of late.

Finally I’m going to be real with you. If anyone views Warriors Amino Confessions as a blog centered around “bullying”, I’m terrified to see how you handle real bullying. Everywhere you go, people are going to call you out on mistakes. WA Confessions may be a blog dedicated to prioritizing problems within the community, but that’s not to say that we don’t do the same on a day to day basis. Complaining about rules and negative experiences that we witness and deal with are the way to protect yourself in this community of thousands of users. Scammers, pedophiles, disturbing content, individuals with potentially dangerous viewpoints and more can be tracked within this blog. Sure, there’s definitely hate, but at its core, the blog can function as a clear and concise support system that benefits far more than harms. Yeah, there are people who are only here to cause harm, but when have you not seen the blog turn around and call them out on it.

1-800-boi is a flawless representation. This was a new member no one knew, who was targeted because someone had their own opinions on their artstyle. They were an asshole about it and the good majority of the blog called them out on it. The blog has a system, even if onlookers can’t view it themselves. As an “active member” of sorts, it’s much more clear. You’re entitled to your own opinions and no one is going to judge you for confessing what’s on your mind. However, if you attempt to harass, verbally assault or discriminate against, manipulate or scam anyone, you will be called out for it. We argue amongst ourselves all the time, but at the end of the day we have more than enough sense to recognize problems. The Mod [our great saviour, Lord Eris] actively limits openly recognizable attacks on a person(s) that may be hazardous or unlawful in nature, along with people who are clearly just trying to start things. The discord is legendary for actively calling out and being aware of users and opinions that mean nothing but trouble and the Mod doesn’t hesitate to subdue these problematic topics. If anything, confessions community is a thousand times safer than the amino itself BECAUSE the users aren’t afraid to tell you how it is. The regulars are more than certain to do a bit of digging to ensure they know as much as they can before they dip their toes into issues that they may not be fully able to comprehend at face value.

The community hold no power. The only power we hold is over ourselves and what we choose to perceive as the truth. Users of the Warriors Amino app have a right to know where or towards whom we need to be aware of; stop acting like this is some sort of political game! If the community chooses to side against you because you cannot prove yourself to them, are you even in a position to feel wronged? No one is holding a loaded gun to anyone’s head or threatening them and telling them that they have to believe everything stated on the blog or else. If so, the leadership team would be very quick to deal with publicizing the incident like they did with Lionclan over a year ago. No one has the right to claim the entirety of this blog to be an uprising of evil when they do not witness the full conversation. A few assholes want to do something to make someone else miserable, then focus your emotions on them. It’s illogical and restricting to forcefully disregard an entire peoples based on your emotional standpoint towards a minimum. There are 200 or so followers of the blog compared to the 1608 members active on Warriors amino at the time of me writing this essay of a response, and that’s disregarding the listed 172,867 members in total. Some of these members are banned, former members, and random users scattered across the interface. Some aren’t even in clans or positions of leadership.

If I were to compare the blog to anything, I’d advise members to watch episode 1 of an anime called Kino’s Journey [spoilers for those who haven’t watched]. It presents a country where murder isn’t illegal and a man Kino encounters who longs to seek asylum within its walls due to his rebellious nature and desire to disregard the rules implemented in society. Within the walls however, the city is strangely tranquil and Kino finds little to no security measures in place despite what he imagined would be a place of endless brawls and bloodshed to meet an end. The only oddity is that everyday citizens carry weapons and acknowledge that they are all meant for murder. When Kion encounters the man later, he has become a citizen of the town and targets Kino as his first murder victim. However, before he can fire his gun, other citizens of the country pull out their weapons and kill the man, protecting Kino. Why? The answer is simple. Legal does not equate to socially acceptable. In order to keep the peace of the nation, those who murder, have murdered or intend to murder must be eliminated before they disrupt the harmony of the nation. If a person is presented with a place where you can commit murder without legal ramifications and suddenly are willing to do it, are they really in the right?

Note: I’m not coming after anyone when I say these things, however those messages do rub me the wrong way as someone who has grown to love our small blog home despite the hiccups and less than welcome posts that do appear. Have your own opinions, but don’t conspire to eliminate those who see things differently than you based on your own emotional standpoint. As a member of a volunteer leadership team, there shouldn’t be a reason to start such a witch hunt just because some less than desirable people are showing out. Be better than them and PROVE them wrong with your actions. It’s hard to overlook these comments are simple “lies” when you are incapable of standing up straight and performing without melting down over a collected group of silent opinions. Let them talk. The ones whos opinions matter are the ones judge you for your actions over a bunch of silly chats on a confessions blog.

TL;DR: WA confessions is its own separate entity from WA that follows its own set standard of rulesets. However, do not be deceived by outward appearances. If you come of our community with the mindset that you are free to be toxic and controlling, you are incredibly misinformed. We protect ourselves and our rights by flushing out those with malicious intent. If you cannot handle that what happens here can be a bit rough, that’s fair, but bullying, harassment, discrimination and abuse IS NOT WELCOME HERE. We don’t want you, nor do we tolerate it. If your feel hurt by what is said here, reevaluate your own shortcomings and work hard to overcome the stigma that you potentially dug for yourself to prove those opinions wrong. No one is here to damage you, but it’s unfair to silence the viewpoints that you are too shamed or simply unwilling to acknowledge and address because you don’t like them.

[knightofbalance-13]

Too bad: Don’t want drama, don’t be a jackass. Same for everyone on the internet.

0:24 No no, there’s a ton of drama about hate being passed off as criticism. Actual critics of RWBY have gotten off scott free and the only ones being affected are you assholes who try to sell your snakeoil opinions as fact and critics who don’t want to be associated with you. And quite frankly: You deserve for the shit you spew.

0:34 Rant huh? (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DBUJ3RrkZhU) Not even a minute...and a good third of that was Miles giving people credit and leniancy. Your video is more of a rant than his, complete with whiny bitching and rambling.

0:46 No, Lord Fatass whined that he was getting called out. That isn’t a response anymore than...well, any response he makes to anyone who doesn’t agree with him.

0:55 Lord fatass has a Patreon and all he does is bullshit all the damn time about RWBY. Fuck, you even compare yourself to a cult leader in that screenshot. Cults are defined by being irrational and rabid with the leader encouraging such behavior. I don’t care what you say your relationship with RWBY is: Lord Fatass calls himself a fan. Your ACTIONS are what I care about you DEFINITELY act like a cult leader.

1:01 Not helping your case that you sound pissed about a video essentially saying ‘‘don’t hate on the creators.”

1:20 Oh, someone’s being disingenuous! Miles never discredited the fandom as a whole or even critics as a whole. He just said ‘I don’t like know it alls and haters.’ You just said that because if you told the truth, no one would listen to you.

1:26 Bull fucking shit. Critics are revered in fandoms and it’s usually the CREATORS that are given a bad name. A critic can shrug off criticism and ignore their own flaws and continue making the same mistake over and over again while if a creator so much as thinks about not gulping down shit, they’re seen as egotistical. You’re lying.

1:30 Lord Fatass literally lies about the show numerous times in his ‘reviews’ and you will outright lose your shit if someone doesn’t call Volumes 3-5 shit. Pretty safe to assume you hate RWBY.

1:34 Yes. And it is literally every single point I’ve figured out on my own just said worse mixed in with personal gripes trying to be passed off as criticism. It just feels like you looked up what other people said and parroted it back to disguise your bullshit as criticism.

1:48 Your Volume 5 review was you rambling about fight scenes. That’s it. You apparently have the patience of a goldfish. P.S. You are literally contradicting what you did in the video you linked because you flipped your shit at people who were saying they liked Volume 5. You’re only doing this to try and build credit.

2:04 So basically, let people be irredeemable assholes, making personal attacks on creators until said creators become so desensitized to criticism due to the abuse they suffered they stop trying to improve because you’re shit at your job and can’t handle being professional in any way. Here’s another saying: “Git Gud.”

2:08 Yes and let’s here about all those dirty commies and how ugly and nasty they are while we’re doing propaganda.

2:16 And flat earthers say that a round Earth doesn’t exist either. Doesn’t make it make it true!

2:25 But if you ordered a steak that was suppose to be undercooked or went to a place that only served undercooked steaks: You’re wrong for bitching about it. Hey look, I broke your lengthy analogy in it’s infancy in under two seconds. Should say something about your critical thinking skills.

2:29 yes but a media student would know WHY it sucked on an objective level while you just pass off subjective as fuck opinions are objective reasons why a show sucks. A chief would be able to know why something sucks anbd why it sucks for being that particular meal while a normal customer would bitch and moan because they ordered a dish and they didn’t like it. Also, this has nothing to do with constructive criticism and is just kind of out of place. Plus your analogy was kind of...short to be honest. You should have looked over your script before writing and thought about it. ... Hey look, I just CONSTRUCTIVELY criticized you. And all it took was NOT being a complete douchebag. Almost as though your skill in critiquing has next to nothing to do with constructive criticism and is instead about HOW you go about criticizing.

2:42 Cept this analogy doesn’t work either. PLENTY of people make calm, constructive reviews of the show, both positive and negative, explaining why the show does/doesn’t work. While the angry reviews basically boil down to ‘this Volume wasn’t made for ME.” So whose more right? The people who can explain why the dish does/doesn’t work as the type of dish it is or the people bitching about the type of dish it is or the flavor of the dish not being a flavor they like?

2:46 Cept they CHOOSE to waste their time and the show is FREE. You only pay to see it early, not to view the show. This is like bitching about mayo being on a sandwitch that was said to have mayo on it and the sandwitch was FREE. I broke that analogy by just looking at it funny.

2:50 Yeah and then they assault the chiefs, sending them hatemail and death threats, attempting to ruin their business through fake controversies, invoking the memory of the dead friend who made the recipe and general act as though they fed them PEOPLE. All while complain about how the dish was too sour when it was advertised as sour. You just keep getting worse and worse at this.

3:03 While the reviews say there were bugs in it (which there wasn’t), saying the dish gave people food poisoning (which it didn’t), the reviwers tried assaulting the chief for using a certain ingreident to the point he doesn’t want to cook and instead of the morning news, it was a recording of the chief just relieving stress with friends. Now you sound like a fucking sociopath.

3:09 I mean, Gordon Ramsey actually knows what eh is saying, in the British version of the show Gordon is a lot nicer and in turn is more well respected, Gordon actually tries to help and encourage the chiefs instead of belittling them and Gordon doesn’t try to force his way of cooking down their throats while attempting to make them quit cooking.

... Now YOU sound like one of those chiefs from Kitchen Nightmares.

3:18 No, you’re going to assault the chief and essentially harass him into becoming your slave. I do not care how pissed you are: You ‘critics’ of RWBY have used up all my sympathy for you. You have to now EARN it and boy oh howdy will it be a HERCULEAN task for that to happen.

3:26 And yet I can, despite not being an animator myself. Also, if you can’t tell what is wrong with a dish then why should the chief listen to you when you could just be a whiny bitch? Also also: Miles is a WRITER and by virtue of making a script for this video, you are a writer. You have no excuses.

And finally: that’s actually a rather adept analogy with Yelp. Because yelp is FULL of people who will us either status as ‘critics’ to harass and bully restaurants into doing what they want. You wanna know what you are? You’re Cartman from the episode “You’re not Yelping!” And we all know how THAT ended (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDlR_ccnZww)/ Fuck, I’ll make a RWDE version after this.

3:35 funny because that isn’t what constructive criticism is because it’s more akin to ‘this is how you should do this for these reasons’ and what he described is what YOU people do.

3:39 ... But you can help them. You’re just too lazy.

3:51 But you guys DON’T and in fact when people bring evidence of YOUR fuck ups, you’ll whine and moan and ignore it. See, that’s the biggest irony here. Miles is essentially being YOUR critic and you are acting EXACTLY as you perceive him to be. It’s like if a student came to teacher for help and all the teacher did was scream in his face and slap him.

4:03 But you will call the steak shit by saying it was cooked exactly as advertised and you didn’t want that despite nit letting them know otherwise. Also the steak was free.

4:08 And I can say you’re full of shit. Doesn’t make either one of us right. Except i can say WHY you’re full of shit and you can’t explain jackshit.

4:19 No but they’d give it a fair chance and move on if they don’t like it for personal reasons. Now forcing your opinion onto everyone else: THAT’S a hater move.

4:21 No you’re not. Your actions say otherwise.

4:28 You’re not the audience. You’ve made that abundantly clear. You’re like a chicken fan bitching about how a steak doesn’t taste like chicken.

4:37 Name one person and no, Shane doesn’t count. And even then, Shane even admits he was probably being biased.

4:42 Well, when you blow things out of proportion to ATTACK Miles, that would be the case...except if anything, they’re toning it down.

4:54 That’s fucking rich. Not only was Miles NOT talking about critics in general but HE was defending himself from YOU PEOPLE. And he’s ONE person when you’re fucking DOZENS.

5:06 And Miles shouldn’t have to grovel and beg for forgiveness. This is just your shit coming back at you. I do not care.

5:13 Cept that;s your JOB as a critic. Don't wanna do it? Stop calling yourself a critic.

5:22 yet here you are, fearmongering that Miles is gonna annihilate your poor defenseless critics in an age where critics are treated as infallible gods.

5:32 ... So you’re basically affirming what Miles said, that you don’t know what you are talking about. ... You just beat yourself.

5:43 Says the man who says ‘the customer is always right’ unironically.

5:51 ... Miles outright hates working on RWBY because of you. He is scared shitless of what people will do to him if Jaune gets any scenes. A Camp Camp blog got mistaken for Miles and was harassed to the point of leaving because of it. I’ve seen Miles’ life being threatened on this very site. ... Fuck you.

6:11 Yet when that happens for hating on RWBY and making Miles’ life a living hell, it’s A-Okay! ... You’re just fucking salty people aren’t listening to your shit and calling you out.

6:21 This is gonna be GOOD.

6:25 Cept he is in the UK and actually reviews food instead of screaming. Hell, even in kitchen nightmares he doesn’t insult anyone. That’s just Hell’s Kitchen, which is basically cooking Jerry Springer. Congratsm you're Jerry Springer.

6:36 Cept you gave the hatedom every fucking excuse to hate on Miles and make his life hell while parroting their points while also categorizing anyone who disagrees with you a fanboy.

6:52 ‘I’m not calling you out! ... But here's me calling you out indirectly like a pussy!’

6:57 And guess what? Most of RT’s fans have heard ENOUGH of YOU. And unlike YOU, they have an actual reason while you just wanna protect your ego.

My final thoughts? I don’t care how tired you are of it, you fucking deserve every last bit of this. You wanna be a total jackass? FIne, you can get hate for it Wanna be a hypocrite? Get hate for it. Wanna encourage harassment and hatred? Get fucking hate for it.

I do not care. You have lost ALL sympathy from me.

[moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown]

I answered a lot of shit cause i was bored. enjoy or don’t i don’t fucking care

1: Name: Cheynne.

2: Age: 21

3: 3 Fears: Dying alone, never finding actual love, everyone dying but me because of something I could have stopped.

4: 3 things I love: Music, Good movies, Good acting and good accents in movies.

5: 4 turns on: Good smile, Nice eyes, If you look like you could kill me, nice hair

6: 4 turns off: Being a dick, Entitlement, if you act as if I owe you something, not telling me I upset you or did something wrong and then being an actual dick when telling me whats wrong.

7: My best friend: IRL? Myself. Online I have many.

8: Sexual orientation: Asexual panromantic

9: My best first date: Didn’t have one

10: How tall am i: 5’2. 5’3 if I stand up all the way.

11: What do I miss: When I felt true emotions.

12: What time were you born: 3:02pm

13: Favorite color: Black. Because it is the absence of all colors and I just like it,

14: Do I have a crush: On people I know? No. On actors yes. Many.

15: Favorite quote: “never more quoth the raven” and or “all we see or seem is but a dream with in a dream”

16: Favorite place: My bed.

17: Favorite food: Pizza or Chicken

18: Do I use sarcasm: no…none….

19: What am I listening to right now: Barns Courtney “hellfire”

20: First thing I notice in new person: Eyes or How they speak, like volume and tone.

21: Shoe size: 8.5 or a 9 depending

22: Eye color: Greenish hazel

23: Hair color: Natural is like a dark brown

24: Favorite style of clothing: Comfortable, leggings and my hoodie

25: Ever done a prank call?: Not that I can recall

27: Meaning behind my URL: I liked how it sounded in my head

28: Favorite movie: Currently…jeez…uh either CA:CW or CA:WS

29: Favorite song: Gasoline by Halsey

30: Favorite band: Don’t have one currently

31: How I feel right now: Dead inside…like normal

32: Someone I love: Love is very hard for me cause of things

33: My current relationship status: Single

34: My relationship with my parents: ummmmmmmmm Emotionally destroying. My father(s) can fuck off. And my mom is just a whole can of worms

35: Favorite holiday: Halloween

36: Tattoos and piercing I have: I have 2 tattoos one on my back and one on my wrist. I had my labret and my nose at one point.

37: Tattoos and piercing I want: *shrugs* idk man

38: The reason I joined Tumblr: Cause I hated myself. Idk actually it was in like 2012 so

39: Do I and my last ex hate each other?: We don’t speak so

40: Do I ever get “good morning” or “good night ” texts?: Hahahaha you act like I have IRL friends and family who actually care. no

41: Have I ever kissed the last person you texted?: My mother..yes

42: When did I last hold hands?: 2-3 years ago

43: How long does it take me to get ready in the morning?: less then 5 minutes

44: Have I shaved your legs in the past three days?: yep

45: Where am I right now?: My house. On my bed

46: If I were drunk & can’t stand, who’s taking care of me?: Myself.

47: Do I like my music loud or at a reasonable level?: depends on what I am doing or where I am.

48: Do I live with my Mom and Dad?: Fuck no. thank god

49: Am I excited for anything?: Um Avengers: IW, Season 3 of Animal Kingdom, and Joe coles newest movie.

50: Do I have someone of the opposite sex I can tell everything to?: No

51: How often do I wear a fake smile?: every time I leave the house.

52: When was the last time I hugged someone?: Last Friday, One of my bosses left the store I work at.

53: What if the last person I kissed was kissing someone else right in front of me?: Ew. I don’t like having to see my mom kiss her boyfriend.

54: Is there anyone I trust even though I should not?: Yes and No

55: What is something I disliked about today?: Waking up to some shitty shit.

56: If I could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?: Finn and Joe Cole o I could tell them they are actually so amazing at every role they do. Sebastian Stan. And Bill Skarsgard

57: What do I think about most?: Fanfic ideas

58: What’s my strangest talent?: I can do a weird thing with my middle fingers.

59: Do I have any strange phobias?: Holes in things. But only sometimes

60: Do I prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?: Behind

61: What was the last lie I told?: Idk honestly

62: Do I prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?: Online

63: Do I believe in ghosts? How about aliens?: Yes, and Yes

64: Do I believe in magic?: I mean if I didn’t my witch sisters would be a little peeved at me.

65: Do I believe in luck?: Yes

66: What’s the weather like right now?: grey and rainy

67: What was the last book I’ve read?: smoke gets in your eyes: tales from the crematory.

68: Do I like the smell of gasoline?: yes

69: Do I have any nicknames?: yes

70: What was the worst injury I’ve ever had?: I worked in a deli and my hand slipped one night and I needed 6 stitches. My finger is forever warped from it

71: Do I spend money or save it?: both

72: Can I touch my nose with a tongue?: nope

73: Is there anything pink in 10 feet from me?: yep sissors

74: Favorite animal?: Sloth,

75: What was I doing last night at 12 AM?: watching “redlight” Cillian Murphy in that movie. Hes amazing

76: What do I think is Satan’s last name is?: Well he is just a fallen angel right, god cast him down and all archangels have no last name so.

77: What’s a song that always makes me happy when I hear it?: You are my sunshine.

78: How can you win my heart?: Understand my past is very fucked up and in such has caused me to become a very unemotional and uncaring person at times.

79: What would I want to be written on my tombstone?: Finally

80: What is my favorite word?: Cunt

81: My top 5 blogs on tumblr: @roman-ova @imaginesoverreality @animalkingdom-anonymous @bookofreid and so many more so

82: If the whole world were listening to me right now, what would I say?: Fuck off

83: Do I have any relatives in jail?: Yes

84: I accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow me with the super-power of my choice! What is that power?: Teleportation.

85: What would be a question I’d be afraid to tell the truth on?: How people really feel about me.

86: What is my current desktop picture?: A gif of Pietro from AOU

87: Had sex?: Nope

88: Bought condoms?: nope

89: Gotten pregnant?: nope

90: Failed a class?: many

91: Kissed a boy?: yes

92: Kissed a girl?: a few

93: Have I ever kissed somebody in the rain?: nope

94: Had job?: yep a few

95: Left the house without my wallet?: yes

96: Bullied someone on the internet?: when I was young and very dumb

97: Had sex in public?: Nope

98: Played on a sports team?: Only in PE and I wanted to die

99: Smoked weed?: Nope

100: Did drugs?: Nope

101: Smoked cigarettes?: yes

102: Drank alcohol?: yes

103: Am I a vegetarian/vegan?: Nope

104: Been overweight?: Still am bitch, hypothyroidism is a whore

105: Been underweight?: nope

106: Been to a wedding?: Yes.

107: Been on the computer for 5 hours straight?: every day

108: Watched TV for 5 hours straight?: yeah

109: Been outside my home country?: yep

110: Gotten my heart broken?: yep

111: Been to a professional sports game?: yes, hockey, basketball, and baseball

112: Broken a bone?: nope,

113: Cut myself?: I self harmed for 9 years so

114: Been to prom?: yep

115: Been in airplane?: yes

116: Fly by helicopter?: Nope.

117: What concerts have I been to?: Warped tour 2011, blood on the dance floor like twice.

118: Had a crush on someone of the same sex?: Bitch….every day

119: Learned another language?: Yes German 1 and 2 in high school

120: Wore make up?: yep

121: Lost my virginity before I was 18?: nope still am bitch

122: Had oral sex?: nope

123: Dyed my hair?: yes. All the time

124: Voted in a presidential election?: yep in the…2016..

125: Rode in an ambulance?: over 12 times

126: Had a surgery?: yes 2.

127: Met someone famous?: Yeah one of the guys from La ink and a few authors

128: Stalked someone on a social network?: yeah…who hasnt

129: Peed outside?: yes

130: Been fishing?: yes

131: Helped with charity?: yeah

132: Been rejected by a crush?: every time

133: Broken a mirror?: yes

134: What do I want for birthday?: My family to actually give a shit about me.

[skyofinfinitestars]

“House on a Rock”:  Reflecting on how our personal philosophies are rooted in basic ideas, and how it is possible to change that foundation for God

“How does your positionality bias your epistemology?”

That was the title of the first essay I had to read for class, which I would need to write a response paper to. I probably read this title four times over before thinking “ok. I’m not ready for grad school. Fuck me.”

Thankfully the author of the essay explained what that question meant in English: how does “who you are”, your background and experiences, affect how you view the world?

Basically it was a call for the reader to examine their own biases, and why they hold the assumptions that they do. Ended up making for an easier response essay.

Around this time I was being more active on the sub again and had run into a homophobe. By that I mean someone who thinks “homophobia” isn’t real, and who spends most of his time on Reddit throwing slurs around on the_Donald. Whose entire account seemed to be based around how much he hated queer people.

Scrolling through his account on my phone I felt my entire being tense up. This wasn’t anything new, these people exist all over online and I’d run into a lot of them growing up. Thankfully I’m older now and at a point where these things don’t affect me like they used to.

Even so, he was just another bigot. Another dick online. I hate people like him, I thought, god I fucking hate people like you.

In our back and fourth of him showing off the levels of horrible opinions he held, and me trying to come off as condescending and dismissive, he started opening up about another issue and for some reason I invited him to PM me about it.

In private messages, he was a completely different person. He told me about how his parents hadn’t raised him well, how he’s always angry, how he hates himself for looking at porn, how he’s stressed about college, isn’t sure if he likes his classes, and hasn’t made friends because the environment isn’t very social. He feels that there’s nothing that gives him joy except porn and he hated that his life has become so empty.

And I was scared because this person sounds a lot like myself.

When I was in high school I wasn’t really...popular. I guess. I wasn’t attractive, I wasn’t in shape, and I was gay but kept that hidden (some people could tell it in my voice and all kinds of rumors spread about me). I’d heard people behind my back saying I was annoying, and gay, and that they wanted me to shut up. I tried being funny to get people to like me. If I made them laugh they’d like me. Sometimes I’d joke about other people’s looks and mannerisms.

On the I side I was filled with a lot of hate. I hated the “popular” people and how they were always going on about drinking and drugs and sex. Part of me was jealous that I was “missing out” on all three. But it felt better to judge them for it. I hated girls. I’d never say that outright but I grabbed onto sexist ideas of women from seeing other guys online say horrible things. I kind of resented them because they were a reminder that I’d never live a “normal” life. I thought a lot of people at my school were vapid and that I was smarter than most. I felt like I didn’t have any friends so I thought that most people had “fake” friends.

I was filled with so much hate for myself, the only way I could cope with it was to throw it into others and assume the worst in everyone I knew. Because I was always talking bad about people behind their back, I assumed they were doing the same for me.

One time I was walking in the cafeteria and my eyes met a guy who was laughing devilishly with his friend. They both looked at me and went back to laughing. There was nothing to suggest they were laughing at me. They were most likely not aware of me at all. But my first thought was that they had heard something about me and were laughing at me. I went to the bathroom and cried.

I didn’t realize it until college, but one major factor to my constant depression was the assumption no one liked me, and that everyone was horrible. This foundational idea was the source of a lot of other ideas and assumptions about the world that would eventually trickle down into maintaining a negative outlook and personality.

And I could see something similar going on in this online “bully”. I noticed that whenever he talked about any individual or group of people, he would always pair them with a negative adjective. He couldn’t even say anything positive about our President...he supported the President but he would show his support by degrading others around him in news stories. He could only describe people in negative terms.

Of course he wasn’t doing that on purpose or with intention, instead I think this is revealing something deeper. In talking about him and his life he’d pointed out that he is Reformed Christian, and I can’t help think that combining “Total Depravity” with the cruel ways his parents raised him [he didn’t share any details of course] could have lead him to create “everyone is evi no matter what” as the foundation of his outlook. And it would explain why he has so much self hatred for looking at porn, and why he describes any sinner as “degenerate” or “barbaric” or “depraved”. I think that he is so caught up in hate that he hasn’t internalized the loving forgiveness of God.

How can I pretend to be better? Sure I don’t throw around slurs, but my first reaction to him was “I hate you, I hate people like you”. How am I better if I reflect hate? Had I not invited him to reach out to me [on a whim], I wouldn’t be thinking about this stuff now. I’d go on praying and chatting with Christian friends and stuff and wouldn’t have thought I needed to change. How can I pretend to be better when I felt the same way about the world, and I had thrown out hate at others as well?

“So when they continued asking him, he lifted up himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her.” - John 8:7

In thinking about where our biases come from, how we grow up to view the world, I think about how easy it is to use experiences as the bases for our assumptions, and how we keep building assumptions based off of them.

Months ago I tried out a meditation place, and there the woman explained the process to me and the idea behind it. That there is one reality, objective reality, and then there are people, and because of our limited experiences we can’t observe objective reality without the filter of subjectivity, and our reaction to the world is rooted in our experiences. We look back at our memories of events and it’s normal for our memories to be distortions of what actually happened. So when thinking about ourselves, it is easy to make the mistake of thinking of our memories through a lens of negativity. If I assume “no one loves me”, and I look back at my memories through that lens, I’m going to “create” new impressions of memories and assume they all point to the “fact” that “no one loves me”.

And I think that’s why low self esteem makes it harder to break out of addiction. Any addiction you want; drinking, drugs, food, porn, internet...if you have the presupposition of “I’m a piece of shit who’s going to fail at life anyway”, then well you may as well reach for the bottle.

I came back to Christianity from a negative outlook on life, and realized that if I am going to serve God in a meaningful way then I would need to change the foundation of my personal philosophy to one that was more positive in ways that Jesus was “positive”. What I mean is, we are all sinners, so it is pointless for me look at others with cynical eyes as if I were any better than them. Instead, I need to look at others with forgiveness and compassion. I needed to love others as God loves me.

“Then came Peter to him, and said, Lord, how oft shall my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? till seven times? Jesus saith unto him, I say not unto thee, Until seven times: but, Until seventy times seven.” - Matthew 18:21-22

A favorite idea that I learned from Orthodox theology is that everything Jesus did was an act of sanctification. For example, Jesus got Baptized, not because He had sins that needed washing away or anything, but because He is setting an example for us to live, and He is sanctifying the act of Baptism so it becomes a Sacrament.

Like how He sanctifies water, God sanctifies being human. Humans aren’t just humans. Because of Christ, we are now reflections of God, windows to the Divine.

We are Ikons of the Living Christ.

And so, for the purpose of having something direct, brief, but also concrete, the foundation of my philosophic outlook as a Christian is,

“I am an ikon of the living Christ”.

That has so many implications. That means I must work to reflect Christ in everything I say and do. That means that I must treat others with love as God loves us, and that means that everyone is sacred at their foundations, in spite of their flaws. That means limitless forgiveness. And more.

Not going to pretend like any of this is easy. It’s super easy to type and say. But it’s hard to internalize. It’s hard to actually forgive others, to look at someone who has wronged you or insulted you or has thrown so much hate at you and to reply “I forgive you”. Being loving to everyone is so difficult. But in making this the new foundation of my outlook, it has made it easier to deal with problems.

Of course when talking about stress and depression, changing your outlook isn’t going to solve all of your problems. It would be silly to say that all you need is an outlook change in order to overcome a mental disorder. But it does make it easier to cope. If I fall into a depressive state, I’m less inclined to think the worst about myself. I don’t even believe the thoughts I have in my head. “Nobody loves you”, I don’t even take that seriously anymore. My family loves me. My friends love me. God loves me. And I have to love them back.

This ended up much longer than I hoped, but this has been bugging me for a couple days. If you have been going through a rough time, or if you’ve “always” been in a rough time, then maybe self reflection is something you can do to work on coping with negative assumptions. Maybe you will realize that you’ve taken these assumptions for granted for so long that you have ignored other options. Maybe it will help you find more comfort and trust in Jesus.

No matter what, I hope this encourages more people to plant a new seed and let something beautiful grow.

“Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his house on the rock. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock. But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand. The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.” - Matthew 7: 24-27