#So I have not raved ab it to my friends or anything I barely even know this man

[stuckinapril]

waittt a date on saturday👀I hope it goes well<3

Yesss he’s letting me choose what we should do 🙄🙄 but he was like I wanna see u I wanna make it happen etc so im trying to be sooo normal ab it

[redeadepression]

Seven Minutes | John Marston x (My OC) Karmen Davis Cassady

I was inspired by reading @inkrabbit’s Seven Minutes in Heaven! Go and read it if you haven’t already! Read it last night and spent all night and today thinking about what it would be like to be forced to play SMIH with your bestie John.

I barely edited this. Enjoy!

Characters: John Marston, Karmen Davis (Cassady) | Modern AU Setting Tags: Fluff, Getting together, friends to lovers, kissing, making out, Modern AU Word Count: 2767

Summery: Modern AU John Marston gets roped into playing Seven Minutes in Heaven with his friends at a party.

~~~~~~~~

John kept himself quiet with a swig of his drink as his friend’s raved excitedly about which game they wanted to play next. They’d just finished a few rounds of Never Have I Ever and John was busy feeling a little uncomfortable at how sober he still was compared to some of the other party guests.

He’d never really realised how little he’d experienced in his life until everyone had started to use the game as a platform for bragging. Shouting out their wildest stories before proudly taking a drink and watching as the others in the room were forced to refrain.

But despite the crazy anecdotes there were also some pretty tame claims made.

John had felt sheepish every time he didn’t drink. The other men furrowing their brows in his direction until he’d started to drink anyway to keep them off his scent. Pretending to understand half of the things that everyone but him had seemed to experience and hoping to hell no one called him out and asked about it.

He never was good at lying on the spot.

“We could play seven minutes in heaven.” Sean suggested loudly. “Spin the bottle style.” He added, grabbing the nearest empty bottle of alcohol and spinning it around the tabletop to add flare to his suggestion.

A collective groan rolled out around the room as he argued that it would be harmless fun.

“We’re nearly thirty.” Karmen argued back, stopping the bottle in it’s place right before it fell from the counter.

“Some of us are over thirty.” John pointed out with a smirk directed towards Arthur.

The older man sneered at the comment. Thinking for a moment before placing his drink down on the edge of the counter and taking the empty whiskey bottle out of Karmen’s hand.

“You know what?” He asked lightly as he turned to John. “Let’s play seven minutes in heaven. Could do you some good you goddamn loser.” He snipped, clapping John on the shoulder on his way passed.

John rolled his eyes, watching as the other party guests followed Arthur without question into the living room. He settled onto the floor and put the bottle down in front of him. Gesturing for the rest of them to sit in a circle around the container.

They obliged without argument and John wondered briefly if perhaps more of them had actually wanted to play than they’d let on. The squabbling at stopped quickly at Arthur’s suggestion and suddenly no one was objecting anymore.

“Fine.” John said tersely as he was pulled on the arm by one of the ladies. “But I ain’t kissin’ you.” He spat at Arthur as he settled himself next to the older man.

“New rule!” Sean shouted excitedly as he sat across from John. “You must go into the bedroom with whomever your bottle lands on. No redos unless your spin will result in incest!” He teased, grinning at his own joke at the others chuckled under their breath.

“So… What do we do in the bedroom?” Karmen asked as she settled herself beside Sean. She seemed less than impressed to be playing. It seemed out of character for her. She was usually up for anything.

Sean looked to her incredulously. Shaking his head as he reached for the bottle.

“Whatever ye’ want.” He answered simply, spinning the whiskey with vigour. Silence descended on the group as they waited to see who Sean would be leaving the circle with.

The bottle landed on Karen and he raised his brows at her seductively.

“What if what we want is nothing?” She asked flatly, clearly not amused.

Sean barked out a laugh, rising to his feet and holding out his hand for her to take.

“Aye, that ain’t nice.” He scolded, as she took his hand. “New rule.” He cried suddenly, turning to address the group as Karen wrapped a hand around his waist with a sly grin. “Consent must be given and honoured in the bedroom.”

“Also, literally everywhere else.” Charles added as Sean and Karen disappeared into the nearest room. The click of the lock echoed around the living room as the other party guests sat awkwardly until one of them dared to speak.

“So…” John began, making the others chuckle. “We’re just supposed to sit here and wait while they have sex?” He asked, looking around for an answer as everyone began to return to the conversations they had been having before Sean had rudely interrupted them with his suggestion.

He looked to Karmen, catching her eye from across the circle and she shrugged in reply. Turning to Sadie as she was asked a question about her job.

As it turned out seven minutes was a painfully long time. Especially when no one was timing it. It had taken a good half an hour for the couple to emerge by which point the other guests had moved away from the whiskey bottle and gone back to mingling with one another.

The game forgotten as Javier had started to play his guitar and Mary-Beth had started a sing-along.

“Aye, aye!” Sean shouted as they re-entered the room. “What’s goin’ on here? I thought we were playin’ a game!” He yelled as the guests turned to him in surprise. Having forgotten all about them in the interim.

“Oh right.” Arthur laughed. “Forgot I was tryin’ to get little Johnny here to loosen up.” He teased, gesturing with his head back towards the living room. The other party-goers followed him as they did before. Settling back down into their places. Murmurs of annoyance flittering around the circle until Arthur passed the bottle to Karmen.

She sighed, taking it and placing it with a clink on the floor in front of her. The group fell silent once more as they waited for her to spin it.

“For the love of God someone time it this time.” Sean interjected as she placed her hand on the glass. “I think I only have seven minutes in me.” He chuckled wryly as Karmen gripped the bottle and flung it across the floor.

John watched as the bottle skidded across the hardwood and came to a stop directly in front of him. He kept his eyes trained on it for a long second as a collective gasp bounced around the circle.

There was no mistaking the fact that the neck of the bottle pointed to him. No leeway on either side for him to shirk the responsibility onto another.

He smiled weakly, looking up and meeting her eyes across the circle. She stared back at him with an expression he couldn’t discern. A wily smile creeping onto her own face as she raised her brows at him in question.

“Well go on!” Sean shouted, throwing his arm out as he gestured for them to leave the group. They hesitated, both of them stuck in place as John chewed on his lip and shook his head lightly.

“You can spin again.” He chuckled awkwardly, reaching for the bottle and intending to pass it back to her as Arthur slapped his hand away lightly.

“Rules are rules John.” He chided, gesturing with his head for the two of them to leave.

John looked to Karmen apologetically. She shrugged once more, pushing herself to her feet and holding out her hand for him to take.

He obliged, taking hold and letting her hoist him to his own feet as they looked one another over uneasily.

“Remember, you’ve only got seven minutes.” Karen called to them in a sing-song voice, holding up her phone and showing everyone the app as Karmen pulled John by the hand away from the others.

“Ah, Johnny won’t need that long.” Arthur teased, earning himself a rude finger from John as he rolled his eyes again. Letting himself be led by his other hand into the nearest bedroom.

He walked inside behind Karmen, closing the door and locking it quickly before turning to her and sighing.

“We can just preten-.” He began, a gasp leaving him as he was cut off abruptly by her lips on his. He was shocked into inaction, standing awkwardly as she kissed him with passion.

She pulled away, furrowing her brows as he looked to her in complete shock.

“You wanna’ waste seven whole minutes?” She asked sarcastically, a quirk in her lips as he opened his mouth to respond but nothing came out.

“I…” He began, unable to finish the sentence as she pulled away from him completely.

“Do you not consent?” She asked, intending the question as a joke but her face falling seriously as he continued to stare at her in shock. “Uh, okay yeah.” She said after a moment. “We can just pretend.” She conceded, an awkward chuckle leaving her as he watched a flush appear on her cheeks.

“No, no.” John said quickly, coming to his senses and placing his hands on her hips. He pulled her towards him, crashing his lips against her as he wrapped her arms around his neck.

She kissed back hungrily, tongues mingling with one another they both squirmed under their growing arousal.

John had never even let the thought cross his mind that she might be attracted to him. They’d been friends for over twenty years and she’d never once shown a romantic interest in him.

He found her attractive, but he wasn’t about to go lusting after her like a dumb kid when he found their adult friendship so fulfilling in and of itself.

He was content with what they had.

He’d never wanted anything more from her. She was his rock. The one constant throughout his life that never changed. He’d never fathomed that they could be more than friends. The thought was exciting and utterly terrifying at the same time.

John pulled himself away quickly, pulling a moan from her as they parted. Her lust filled eyes looking him over in question as he swallowed thickly.

“Are… Are you?” He asked croakily, unable to get the words out as her eyes glinted at him through a coy smile.

“Are you?” She asked, understanding completely the hesitation in him. She had spent a lot of time thinking about this eventuality. Time that he had spent married to another. Time that he hadn’t had to recover after she’d broken his heart.

She was sure. She didn’t need to be asked. But she supposed perhaps he did. She had considered the way he felt about moving forwards from friendship to something more but she was quietly hoping that they didn’t need to speak about it. That he would just reciprocate physically and alleviate all need to have the talk she dreaded.

The one that might ruin this. The one that would turn serious too quickly for her liking and take away all possibility of just letting it happen naturally.

The one that made things awkward if they didn’t immediately fuck afterwards.

“I…” He stuttered again. “I don’t… think…” He stammered, unable to answer as she sighed softly. Pulling away from him completely and smiling weakly at the uncertainty on his face.  

“It’s alright.” She assured, running a hand down his arm for lack of anything else to say.

“Wait.” John said quickly, stepping back into her personal space and locking eyes with hers as he tried again to get his thought out. “I want this.” He said simply. “More than… anything.” He gulped, inhaling shakily as she looked to him in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.” He said openly, emotion in his throat as he finally fished his thought from earlier. “But not… Like this.” He said finally, averting his eyes as she cocked her head in question.

“Then how?” She asked quietly, her hands coming to rest on his waist as he placed his on her hips, squeezing tightly. Swallowing against the arousal threatening to overtake him at the feel of her under his hands.

He had never realised just how much he had wanted to touch her like that.

They’d hugged a thousand times over the years but he’d never touched her body in this context. He’d picked her up before but he’d never felt the curve of her hips under his hands in quite the same way. Never gave himself permission to.

He’d always thought she was gorgeous but he’d never let himself really look at her and understand why. The colour of her eyes and the freckles on her cheeks were nice and platonic reasons to look at her and think she was beautiful. But the way her thighs hugged the jeans she was wearing, her cleavage peaking through her cropped tank top and the way her tongue darted out to lick at her ruby lips; were all things he’d not have noticed about her in any other context.

“Dinner?” He asked softly, after taking a moment to really see her. The word croaky in his throat as he tried to act nonchalant. His erection straining against his fly as he tried not to think about the fact that this was new territory for them.

“Dinner?” Karmen scoffed, a giggle leaving her lips as she looked up at him with a mix of amusement and empathy. “We have dinner all the time.” She snickered, taking another step closer and pressing herself against him. Gasping at the feel of him pressed against her belly as he subconsciously tried to hunch away from her.

“Uh…” John faltered, trying desperately to ignore the feel of her against his member as he attempted to act the gentleman.  “What do the kids call it?” He rasped, lightheaded as she pressed herself closer, arms moving up to wrap around his neck once more. “Netflix… something…” He mumbled. Closing his eyes as she pressed her lips against his and kissed him softer than before.

He huffed into the kiss, wrapped his own arms around the small of her back and dragging her flush against him before repositioning his hands on her waist. Hips grinding subtly against her as he kissed her back fervently.

“Netflix and chill.” Karmen answered, smiling against his mouth as he hummed in agreement.

“That?” He asked, softly, only breaking the kiss for long enough to murmur his word.

“I guess.” She sighed, feigning disappointment as her hands curled in his hair. Heartbeat in her ears as she felt his hands tighten on her sides.

His hard length pressed insistently against her as she moved her mouth against his greedily. Lapping up every quick second of privacy as they moved together as one for the first time in their lives.

“Two minutes!” Someone called impatiently from outside the door, making the them both jump.

They pulled apart out of instinct, staring at one another for a long minute before both bursting into fits of laughter. They were a sight to behold. Shocked, aroused and dishevelled.  

John felt himself doubling over at the stunned expression on Karmen’s face. The redness of her cheeks as she tried and failed to look at him seriously.

Karmen cackling at the deer in headlights expression on his flushed face as he tried to discreetly adjust his erection so it wouldn’t be viable to the rest of their group.

She moved towards him once more, hands holding him still before she brought them to his head. Raking her fingers through his tussled hair as she tried to straighten it before licking at her thumb and wiping at the lipstick on his swollen mouth.

John grinned against her thumb. Unrolling one of his sleeves, placing it to her mouth and trying to even up the colour on her lips and wipe it away from where it wasn’t supposed to be.

They both giggled like idiots, suddenly stopping their ministrations after a moment. Hands falling to their sides at the same time as they accepted unanimously that it was a fruitless endeavour and Karmen vowed silently never to buy Matte Super Stay lipstick ever again.

Firm knocking on the door next to them signalling that it was time to leave and making them both chuckle nervously as John held out his hand for her to take this time.  

He unlocked the door, stepping out into the room and shrinking under the hoots and hollers from their friends as they both slunk back into their places in the circle. Letting go of their joined hands reluctantly to sit across from one another once more.

Knowing smirks and nudging elbows followed them both well into the night as they gazed at one another over the whiskey bottle. Excited for what was to come.

[coffeebeannate]

Possibly Nonsensical ToG Representation: Personal Perspective

Nate nobody wants to read six thousand paragraphs of your inane ramblings okay?

Well maybe that IS the case, maybe SO but maybe I’m going to ramble anyway. And maybe I’ll never ever undraft this post because well who knows.

I ended up not drafting it, I just posted. Because why not. Pls don’t regret this, future me.

BUT.

I will say that, one thing that The Old Guard did that really stuck out to me, and has only continued to do so since reading others posts about it was, ironically, send my dysphoria sky-fucking-high.

(Not in a wholly bad way, that is!)

(For the record, I’m 29, and an AFAB pre-T trans guy, pre-T in like pre ANYTHING, I’m barely out publicly to anyone that isn’t a personal or really close friend, or like, my therapist, anywho)

In most cases, my dysphoria is on a very low simmer, there, but something I try to ignore because of circumstances, etc. It’s always a bother, sure, but well, I live, I guess.

So, I’m a Marvel fan, and in most cases..people I see on TV have been, well, lets be real-Chris Evans. Standard Hollywood types. I do have other examples of less ‘classically’ attractive actors on my list of things I like to watch, and absorb, and I’m a basic person who has basic ass thoughts sometimes. Those people are hot, those people appeal to the most innate feelings of people who feel things from attractive looking people.

But in my head, it’s ALWAYS been through the lens of ‘This is nice to look at. Utterly unrealistic, but nice.”

(I actually only recently learned about using dehydration to get those looks, and it further cements Hollywood shadiness, but anyway)

So for me, AMAB and men on TV have never really done much to my dysphoria. It’s not a look I’d ever have..so it never set off those bells in my head. I dislike having an AFAB body, sure, but it’s not like looking at the equivalent of a modified human art project on TV really did anything to it.

And then..the Old Guard

Fuck this is long, more under the cut.

So I want to point out that I LIKE action movies. I like things that blow up and gun fights on TV. I get a kick out of the dramatics and I’ve been in the Bond fandom since Craig Bond became a thing. I have some familiarity with the genre in general, on a low scale. And again, the Marvel fandom ofc. I also like comic books, and have for years. 

None of these things are new to me.

But what is new, I think, is seeing it done differently.

I’ve noticed a HUGE difference in reviews of the Old Guard. On sites like IMDB.com. YouTube, etc, it’s..not getting the best reviews. And I know now why that is-it wasn’t MADE for the audience action movies are usually made for. And if you compare the comic for the Old Guard to the movie, it’s VERY obvious where Gina Prince-Bythewood made changes with Greg Rucka (And possibly Leandro Fernandez) to give it a better appeal over all. (Especially with giving the characters more layers, even in two hours, and making the story have more of a family and emotional value, which is a great choice and I wholly applaud her and her team. The team feels so much more lived-in in the film than in the comics, though I’ve not read through Vol 2 yet)

Compared to Tumblr, where people are raving about the movie *myself included*, and people who NEVER see themselves in a movie, let alone in a movie done WELL are flipping over themselves over it. And I am in that group entirely.

It has been an absolute delight to see people raving about this. Maybe it’s not perfect, but it’s so incredibly important to people who don’t ever get any GOOD representation that isn’t terribly forced, overdone, stereotyped, etc.

Is Old Guard perfect? No, is it really nice to see yourself in a movie outside of your ‘assigned genre’ (alternative films, etc)

Have I watched it six goddamned times since it came out? Yes, I have. I’m down this rabbit hole, I am living here.

Which brings me back to the original point I was making before this spawned into something entirely different. 

“How did that make you dysphoric, then, Nate?”

Because, to be perfectly blunt, I want to link this post here, by @lindstrom2020 which hammered home why, and that point is that, there is virtually 0 sexualization of the characters. There is nothing gratuitous about bodies on screen here, nothing. And we never.ever.see.that.

And no, I’m not going to pretend like I don’t eyeball people on screen. I’m not devoid of sexuality, I am entirely pansexual. But that’s not what I’m trying to say here. I think that, well..seeing bodies that are still entirely masculine, and yet not..what’s the word I want..’done up’? Made all the difference in the world. For the first time, I saw, on TV, an average body, presented in a way that makes it look good, strong and almost achievable. Almost completely NORMAL in that way.

And no, none of the actors in the movie are unattractive. Not even a little bit. They’re still really goddamned pretty. But it was JARRING to see them as pretty but fairly average appearing.

And my brain..synapsed.

As a trans dude, I’m going to straight up say it’s VERY hard to envision what your post-transition body might appear as. It will never be entirely cis-looking (if you will) the way a body that’s biologically created will be, if you will. So you’re stuck working with so much imagination, so much of it relies on looking at post-transition bodies, those done after surgery and YEARS of hormones and even then not knowing.

And for me, well I’m tall, bulky and overweight. I’m also curved, and have a massive back, broad shoulders and long tree trunk like legs. (None of this is said to be a put down on my end, btw, I’m not fishing for compliments, this is the best way I can describe it)

(None of the characters are overweight, so obviously there’s still something there too that’s left to my own imagination, but I digress)

But! There is still something REALLY fucking validating about seeing men on screen who are still attractive without dehydrated abs and veined out skin because the flesh is crying out for sustenance.

I dunno..for me, it was just..strange to see. And there’s also something really really fucking NICE about queer people in the action genre that haven’t been shoved to the back of the movie, appear for five seconds and leave so the movie can scratch of ‘representation’ on it’s proverbial audience appealing points card.

And I’m sure if I watched more movies on my watch list, and stuff that’s been recommended to me I will find more! I know they’re out there, but for the Old Guard, it’s a genre I’d actually watch, something that APPEALED to me and was easy to get into because with my ADHD-Autism, it’s hard to get invested at times. So 2 hours was a good starting point.

Especially if I had to take breaks *but I didn’t need to, it was engaging enough for my wandering head*.

Wow this is messy, I stg I meant for this to be cleaner, but, anyway.

The overall thing is that the Old Guard makes me feel things I really do not usually feel watching movies. Sure it’s still a fantasy, sure it’s still got flaws, but wow if it isn’t just..really goddamned nice to connect to something outside of the box.

It’s not perfect, nothing is.

But Old Guard has done various forms of representation RIGHT, it has done extremely valid and important things. And since I’m old enough to remember the NONSENSE when Brokeback Mountain came out and it was called ‘career ending’ for it’s actors..to see this is just..

It’s nice.

And I KNOW that this movie and series is always going to hold a special place in my heart as a result.

A lot of others have made excellent representation posts, and I wasn’t going to publish my jumbled up nonsense thoughts, but feck it.

It’s not coherent really-my thoughts never are, and it’s long and rambling, but hell, so is my brain.

[falling-pages]

Worth It: Mori x Reader 2/3

continuation of the ask I received a while back! It’s been crazy with evacuation, but I feel like I am getting back into the groove of writing. This is part 2/3, with part 1 linked here in case you missed it, and I am so excited for you all to see the plot twist at the end of this chapter! friendly reminder that this is an AU where Mori is not rich and he does not attend Ouran. That is important in this chapter. Enjoy this really, really long chapter! A little change I’ve made during drafts: the person who requested it has given me permission to name their character, so instead of (Y/N) that you’ve seen in the first part, the name oft he character is”Gina.”

Your Takashi didn’t take advantage of your giddiness or vulnerable position on your back. By looming over you on the ground, you knew he could have used his strong arms to pin you down and take what he wanted. You knew he wanted to. As you ran a hand through his hair and settled it on his neck, his pulse rattled cathartically against your fingers. 

You wanted him. Pushing down that greedy voice in your stomach took all of your strength, especially when he pressed lightly on your wrist in response. You wanted it, you wanted him. 

But you knew you couldn’t. You shouldn’t. This was your first kiss together, and your first kiss, period. You only met two months ago. You shouldn’t have these feelings so soon.

Takashi felt your concern and ended the kiss, briefly pressing his forehead to yours. His chest heaved; you found yourself shaking from excitement. 

Your hands trembled as you tried to hold his. With a look of great concern he gently propped you up, searching your eyes with his to ask if you were okay. “Was I too forceful?” he asked, a blush burning his cheeks. 

You shook your head vigorously. “No, of course not. It’s just...” You sigh. “Something I have to work through.”

He nodded, pushing himself away from you. From the shudder in his muscles you could see it took everything in him not to hold you. “Should we stop seeing each other, then?”

“No!” You reach up and cup his cheek, feeling your love for him welling up in your chest. “No, love, that’s not it. You’re perfect.” His eyes soften into yours, relief spilling out of his irises. “It’s my family. They think we’re better because we’re rich and famous, so they want me to marry someone rich and famous. Or at least rich. Someone with high social standing.”

A tear rolls down your cheek, and Takashi brushes it away, encouraging you to continue. “But I don’t want someone of social standing,” you whisper, your voice catching. “I want you! And it’s silly because we’ve only known each other a little while, but I feel like I know you better than I know myself. And there’s no one else I ever want to feel that way for.”

You crumple onto Takashi’s chest as he puts on his bravest face. Though swallowed up by his form, you feel anchored to the ground, your spirit aligned with his. It was rash to speak out like that. You were too young to think about forever.

You shook away from him, preparing your speech, only to be met with his kind smile filling up your soul. “Two months or two years, I don’t care,” he said. “I just want you in my life.”

Within your core you felt something tighten, hammering against your ribcage and lungs like a pendulum, strengthening your resolve. You sat up on your knees and gave him a quiet kiss, letting your feelings burst through your actions rather than words.

He grabbed your face tenderly, and everything inside you snapped. Screw your parents. Screw their expectations. Screw what they thought they knew, screw their haughty attitudes. This was your Takashi, and they weren’t going to take away the one good person you have ever met. 

Let them disown you. Let them rant and rave about policy and goodwill and honor. Takashi was the only person of honor you had met in a long time.

As long as you had him, let them scream about what a disgrace they are.  All you needed was him.

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

And scream they did.

It had been four months since your declaration, and keeping a secret was easier than you thought. You never had to worry about your boyfriend spilling the beans; he rarely talked with you, much less anyone else. The real issue was keeping hidden from your family’s bodyguards and nosy Etsuko. 

Takashi always insisted on walking you home after every date, but you made him stop a block away so you two couldn’t be caught. It wasn’t that you were ashamed to be with him. It was just the opposite--you wished you could hug him in the city square, or bring him home to dinner with your family. You wished you could kiss him whenever and wherever you wanted instead of waiting until the safety of his apartment to do so. One day, just one day, you wanted to live without constantly looking over your shoulder.

As graduation loomed and the weather got warmer, you looked forward to your little walks under cherry blossoms with Takashi. No longer bound by thick coats and scarves, you could really see his physique, enjoy the shape and outline of his abs and biceps. You wished you could see them fully, but the risk...

You wished you could bring Takashi over, but you needed to tell your parents you were dating a commoner first.

It didn’t go over well.

Not two words had left your mouth when your father shoved a phone in your face.

“Gina, who is this?”

You choked down a gasp at the picture of you and Takashi holding hands. It was taken from behind, and as your fingers ran along the phone case, you realized it belonged to your sister. 

“Etsuko!” you roared, throwing down the phone.

The culprit, sitting across from you at the dinner table, only shrugged. “Why are you so upset?” she asked. “I’m just looking out for my baby sister.”

“Why don’t you do something actually productive with all this time you have?” you retorted.

Etsuko sneered as your father tapped the phone again. Another picture popped up, one of you and Takashi enjoying lunch on your first date. You looked at yourself. Munching on the crab, mid-laugh. You hadn’t seen yourself look so happy in a while. 

“I’ll ask again,” your father said. His normally-tenor voice dropped deep into his chest, and the tone scraped against you like a knife. “Who is this?”

“My friend,” you whispered. You didn’t want to renounce him, but you knew what they would do to him. You had seen it happen before. 

As if he had expected this answer, your father swiped to the next photo. Your heart fell to your toes. 

It was a picture of you and Takashi kissing goodbye a block away from the house. At the sight of his fingers in your hair, your stomach curdled. His heat, his smell washed over you again. You thought you were protecting him by leaving him so far away. You had no idea how nosy your sister could be.

“Is that what friends do?” asked your father softly, locking the phone and handing it back to Etsuko. 

You sat back in your seat, feeling like a boulder has lodged itself in your sternum. Icy tears rolled down your cheeks. 

“Please don’t hurt him,” you plead. You cast your gaze from your father, standing stoically in front of you, to your mother, shaking her head with a frown. Avoiding Etsuko, you rest your eyes on your other sister, Kichi, silent until now. She raises her dark eyes to yours before bowing her head again. A thousand memories floated across her face, but she doesn’t say a word.

“Kichi, please,” you cry, desperately reaching your hand to your favorite sister. “You loved a commoner once, tell them it’s different, help--”

“Go upstairs, Gina,” you mother interrupts. With her auburn hair and light brown eyes, she and your father were only similar in attitudes: ambitious, prideful, and spoke with snakes for tongues. Never mind how they could make such beautiful music together. All other parts of their humanity were destroyed by greed the moment they tasted fame. “Go get changed. We’re having a special dinner tonight.”

You shook off the maids’ hands and climbed the stairs, throwing one more repulsed look at Etsuko.

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Despite the servants refreshing your makeup, the puffy eyes and red tear trails remained. You knew they were trying to be helpful; one had even brought a cool compression pack, but you didn’t want it. You wanted your family to see your pain, wanted them to see your tears. Maybe, if you made a big deal about it, they wouldn’t do anything to Takashi. You knew they could hurt him, uproot his entire life. They had done the same thing three years ago to Kichi’s secret boyfriend. But you couldn’t live with yourself if they actually did anything to him.

Tugging at your dress in the mirror, you felt confusion gnaw at your brain. It was a pretty outfit, but you thought it was inappropriate for family dinner. Shiny green material clung to your thighs, and though it was long-sleeved, a big diamond-shaped cutout clipped across your chest. Nothing too scandalous peeked out, but the cutout drew attention to it, inviting one to stare and imagine. It didn’t help that a ruby pendant landed in the middle of the area, cold against your exposed skin.

With your hair piled up on your head and silver heels strapped onto your bare legs, you couldn’t tell the difference between yourself and, frankly, a hooker.

Realization rattled down your spine. Your family was trying to sell you off.

A hazy memory suddenly cleared. You were only about seven when Etsuko graduated high school, and you remember watching from your playroom as limos surrounded your house, handsome boys her age in tuxedos popping out and entering your house. You remember how uncomfortable she looked in a strapless silver dress, slipping from boy to boy without spending more than a minute with each one. At the end of the night, your father announced her engagement to the son of some hospital management company, and she took that moment to publicly announce that she liked girls rather than guys.

But that was a party, with lots of preparation and glamor. This was only a dinner. A rock lodged in your windpipe when it dawned on you--they had chosen a groom for you already.

Looking yourself up and down once more, you tried to think of a way to get out of this dinner. The windows in your bedroom led to a straight 30-foot drop to the ground, and you didn’t feel like breaking a leg tonight. Even it you forced yourself to vomit something up, your parents would know it was a trick.

Just muddle through tonight, Gina, you thought to yourself. You’ll find a way to fix all of this. There was only one person you wanted seeing you dressed like this, but your parents had taken your phone so that you couldn’t even take a picture to show him later. 

One of the maids knocked on your door, something about your family is ready for you, and you fix one last strand of hair.

They weren’t ready. Your family nearly died of embarrassment after Etsuko came out in front of all those important families, so they plan to just quietly let Kichi pick from a pool of suitors after she graduates business school. If they thought you would go just as quietly, they were wrong. There’s no way you would let go of Takashi without a fight.

Kichi met you at the bottom of the stairs, dressed very nicely but not nearly as provocatively as you. She walks you to the dining room, beyond words until you reach your chair. All she can do is press an apologetic hand against your palm before she takes her seat.

In the half hour you were gone, the servants completely rearranged the room. Double china sat in front of five extra seats, and you shivered at the new chair next to you, envisioning your future husband sitting there. Light glinted off the crystal wine glasses. 

Musicians crowded into the back corner, a whole string ensemble playing what must be good music, but all you can hear is the blood rushing to your ears. Beside them stands a tabloid reporter, friendly with your family, camera and notebook at the ready. A man filed in followed by another woman, and he looked familiar, but you couldn’t place where you had last seen him.

You were beyond impressed. Without Takashi by your side, everything dulled, no matter how expensive or important they seemed to be. Even the swan ice sculpture paled in comparison to Takashi’s eyes. 

As your family members walked in, you grabbed your father by the arm and pulled him to you. You dug your freshly-manicured nails into his suit, hoping to damage it or give him some semblance of your pain.

“Whoever you’ve chosen for me,” you hiss, pointing to the empty chair by yours, “I don’t want him. I won’t have him.”

Your father looked down at you, eyes calculating. “Oh, Gina, you’ve always been so smart.” His tone is light, not with happy pride, but arrogance, tinged with a hiccup of sadness. As he turned you to your chair, forcing you in, he turns much darker than you have ever seen before. “You should be smarter than falling in love with a commoner.”

“You had so many young men at Ouran,” your mother chimed in, gracefully sinking into her place. “Couldn’t you have chosen one of them?”

“They are all mean-spirited and entitled.”

“What about those host club boys?” she suggests.

“Yes, they are all of good breeding and good standing,” your father chimed in. “Even that Suoh boy, despite his maternal heritage.”

You grip your fork, remembering all the boys pimp themselves around like prize racehorses. “Those host boys are worse,” you spit out. “They’re attention whores. They prostitute themselves to desperate girls for status and manipulative satisfaction. None of what they do is real, even as they lead naive girls to believe it is, and I’ll be damned before I become a wife to any of them.”

“Oh. That’s not very polite.”

A cold chill rushes over your body as the familiar rawness of that voice thuds against your stomach. You know his voice. You’ve heard it chuckle cruelly in the hallway. It has been harsh and firm delivering answers in class. it’s the voice you feared the most would appear beside you at the dinner table.

You turn around as the Shadow King himself, Kyoya Ootori, enters the room.

Well. That was really long. Expect part 3 coming up soon! In case you missed it, this is a part 2, with part 1 linked here. Leave be a comment! I’d love to engage with you :)

[keener-esme]

partition

ft: zig novak, frankie hollingsworth & esme song description: a playful night off turns into a huge shock for esme and frankie, adding another roadblock in her relationship with zig. date: april 5th location: the strip club

Esme It was still a surprise, albeit a pleasant one that Frankie had agreed to this outing, but Esme was satisfied enough not to spend another weekend home alone that she refused to acknowledge what a dumb idea it was in the first place. Truly, neither of them looked the ages inscribed on the ID's Esme had managed to get her hands on, but considering the amount of money the establishment stood to make, she wasn't worried. Deciding on one last layer of eyeliner to age herself, Esme was ready, holding Frankie's ID in front of her face. "When were you born and how do you spell your middle name?" She prompted, holding the fake away from her to make sure the records were memorized.

Frankie: Frankie was incredibly nervous about this idea, but Esme seemed excited. She wasn’t going to be the one to let her best friend down. Plus, maybe they would just be turned away at the door. She responded to the question, “M-A-R-G-A-R-E-T and I was born January 13, 1998.” She said with certainty, even if her stomach was flipping and flopping.

Esme nodded at each correct letter, hissing a happy yesss at the conclusion of the equally correct birthday. "Perfect, we're totally in," she announced, handing the card back to her. Turning to the mirror, she fluffed her tamed curls out and smoothed the hem of her dress, feeling herself. If she had to miss yet another weekend with Zig, Frankie was just as perfect company she'd need, and it wasn't as though she ever thought Zig would go with her somewhere like this. "Ready?"

Frankie: took back the ID and put it into her wallet. She still wasn't sure if this was the right idea, but if Esme was excited, there was no backing down. She was wearing the same outfit from Esme's rave party since she wasn't sure how to dress for a club like this. "I guess, I'm as ready as I'll ever be?"

Esme smiled, pleased by the timing. Nodding, she held out an arm for Frankie to accept, and soon they were en route, in line, and after a nervewrackingly long wait, inside the club. "It worked," she squealed beneath her breath once they were inside, ushering Frankie to a table up front. "A grade twelve from my old school told me about this place. I guess they have some hot new act that everyone is losing it over."

Zig had his gaze fixated on the mirror, checking out his physique to assure that everything was in place. His hands moved to adjust the decorative underwear he had recently bought— tight, sparkly, and barely enough to cover the essentials. Topped off with a fresh new pair of boots, he was quite proud of the look he chose for the night. While he only stumbled into the job by accident, he was glad to have found it now. At first, it was a bit awkward to be performing in such scanty clothing onstage in front of an audience, finding the act a little demeaning, to say the least. Now that he was more comfortable and used to the scene, it became much easier. He had even picked up a few new moves from the other guys at work. "Count! You're on in five!" The emcee called backstage, signaling that it was time for his shift to really start. He took in a deep breath, taking one last look in the mirror before standing at bay next to the stage. Peering out from behind, he took note of the decent sized crowd and hoped for a few good tippers tonight.

Frankie: followed Esme inside and joined her friend at the table. "A grade twelve came here?" She kept her voice hushed, hoping that none of the adults around would be suspect. "I wonder what the new act is like then-- I mean, we can't really compare to the old acts but..." Frankie took a shot glass off of a passing tray, knowing she could pay the tab at the end of the night. Anything to calm her nerves at this point. "What do you think he'll be like?"

Esme "Yeah, like the second she turned eighteen," she snickered, sliding into her seat. "Everyone at that school was too horny for their own good." Impressed by Frankie's initiative, Esme reached back to procure her own drink, setting it in front of herself. Scrolling through her phone, she recited the text she received. "Tall, dimples, abs, an ass that won't quit," she repeated, shrugging to Frankie. "So probably perfect," she surmised, her attention pulled towards the stage as the next act was announced.

Zig waited patiently for his cue, and finally, his introduction came. "Our next act coming to the stage is everyone's favorite newbie. He's young, he's hot, he's Russia's greatest love machine. Give it up for: The Count!" And with that, he strode across the stage and positioned himself in the spotlight, tuning out the crowd and beginning his routine. He practiced for quite some time in the mirror beforehand, and he could only pray that his hard work had paid off. It evidently did as the crowd responded with cheers and holler, flooding the stage with bills of varying value. In between his moves, he'd lean into the crowd for audience interaction, allowing a few to place their payment in the elastic of his bottoms. After the song ended, he almost felt proud of the positive reaction he got from those watching. He leaned down to collect any stray bills, and looked up once last time before exiting the stage— that's when he saw them. Two familiar faces were at the front row seats. No, it wasn't his newfound usuals that frequented his performances, but rather two of the last people he'd ever think to see there. Squinting to make out the familiar figures, his eyes widened as he locked eyes with them. For a moment, Zig was frozen in place, unsure of what to do besides collect the last of his bills and rush off the stage. How the hell was he supposed to explain his way out of this one?

Esme listened diligently, smirking at the eager description. "Russian, already my type," she teased, watching as the man stepped into place. It was amusing how much commotion he caused right off the bat, Esme sure that he must have been a fan favorite for some type based off of the reverie. "Well she was right about the ass..." She mused, craning for a better look before he turned around. It took no time for the blood to run cold, Esme's heart dropping to her feet once the male's identity was revealed, and she scrambled, all but throwing herself across the table to cover Frankie's eyes with her hand, sending the untouched shot glass to the ground, the shatter muffled by the music. "We have to go!" She screamed, her free hand grabbing at Frankie's arm to pull her from her chair, clearly horrified.

Frankie: didn't even get to see who it was past the ass. Her eyes were covered and her shot glass fell with Esme's, but at least she got to down it. "Esme! I have to see the dimples and abs! Please--" but she was already getting pulled away from the scene. "Esme, what was wrong with him? Is everything okay?"

Esme wished she had managed some of the liquid down before careening it to the floor, her heart pounding as they left the venue. "No, everything is absolutely, so ridiculously not okay," she answered, her eyes wide and the panic present in her voice. "We need to leave. Now." She demanded, her hand shaking as she requested the nearest Uber. "We just need to be... somewhere else. Anywhere else. This isn't real."

Zig began to pace around backstage, unsure of what his next move should be. He ran a finger through his damp hair and took another look at his lower region, mortified that both Esme and Frankie saw him like that. "You good? You don't look too hot, man," Another act commented as he passed by the newbie. "Y-yeah, I'm fine," He assured the other, clearly lying about his wellbeing. At the very least, he knew he couldn't leave things as they were, but at the same time, he had no desire to face them either. Nonetheless, he hurriedly threw on a pair of basketball shorts, a signature sleeveless shirt, and a pair of slides before walking out towards the floor. The lighting was a bit dim, but as he searched the venue, he couldn't find them anywhere. His next move was to look outside in hopes that he could catch them by the door. He ran outside, only to spot the two a moment later just as they were about to leave. "Wait, wait up!" He called out, managing to reach out and grab Esme's shoulder before they had a chance to make another move. "Wait," He repeated, breathless over his performance as well as his journey to get to them. "I—I'm sorry I didn't tell you." An apology was a start, he supposed. "I didn't... I couldn't tell you."

Esme It was bad enough, to say the absolute least, that she was witness herself to what had just transpired, but having to explain it away to Frankie was a different circle of hell all together, one she knew she would have to face when she heard the familiar voice calling after her. Her face skewed in anticipation, not even knowing what to say to Zig has he caught up with them. "Don't touch me,” she sighed, shaking the hand off of herself and keeping her back turned to him. " I wouldn't want to make anyone jealous, and obviously there are a lot of girls that would be." The comeback was weak, but she was still far too frazzled for creativity in the moment. "I guess dealing wasn't enough of a thrill."

Zig almost flinched at the harshness of her words, slowly pulling his hand away and worrying for the fate of the trust he had tried so hard to build with her. It was as if all of it came crashing down in a single moment. "You're not... it's not..." But he couldn't find the right words to say no matter how hard he tried. "I'm not doing this for the thrill," Though he would be lying if he said he didn't start enjoying himself a bit, "This job pays better than anything I've tried before. I'm not doing it because it's fun or exciting."

Esme told herself that no matter what, as long as she didn't cry, she'd make it through, but she was slowly losing that battle. "Right, the thrill is just a bonus." Zig was something she'd relied on for comfort as of late, so it was nothing short a struggle to flounder in need of being comforted from him now. "Ignoring how blatantly illegal it is, you lied to my face. Unless one of your costumes is a warehouse worker I guess."

Zig wasn't sure how to fix anything at this point, and feared that no combination of words would be able to reverse the damage that was already done. "I told you what I was doing was illegal, and since when do you even care about stuff like that?" Technically, he was being honest when he said that he'd never be able to work the hours and job he does if he didn't lie about his age, but that small sliver of honesty still didn't remedy the fact that he was hiding the bigger picture of it. "I'm sorry I lied. I didn't want anyone knowing I was doing this, especially you." While stripping wasn't necessarily something to be ashamed about, it wasn't a job that had much merit to it, and if his mother ever found out, she'd surely keel over and die on the spot. He had to keep it hidden for everyone's sake. It wasn't as if he planned on doing it for long, just enough to have a decent savings before trying to find a job he could truly be proud of. "But beyond the lying, all I'm really doing is dancing. It shouldn't be that big of a deal, right?"

Esme "It's completely different," she scoffed, her arms crossing over her chest. "There's a difference between lying for good cause and lying to hide something you realize you shouldn't be doing. Don't make this about me," she shook her head. "I care about being lied to, I don't know how else to word it for you." When things were directed to her, her sorrow shifted to anger. "You're taking your clothes off," she corrected dryly. "So what now, are you going to keep doing it?

Frankie: Frankie had frozen when Zig appeared, completely speechless. Why was he there? Then, as they argued, it started to all clicking together. Zig was one of the strippers. Zig was one of the strippers and Esme was rightfully pissed. She crossed her arms as Zig continued to explain, feeling uncomfortable that she had to be their witness. "It's honestly a pretty big deal that your underage junk is practically on display for a crowd... You know?" She really didn't want either of them directing anger towards her.

Esme cringed when Frankie finally spoke, partially from the guilt of making her their audience, and part from the too sensitive words. At least she wouldn't have to explain their hasty exit, she supposed. Glancing at her phone (and having yet to face Zig), she cursed the estimated arrival time. "Can we just walk?" She sighed, desperate for an out.

Frankie: looked at Esme concerned. Walk? It was a pretty far walk, but if she wanted out, "I mean, yeah." They could take a ride from somewhere else. New pickup point.

Zig ‘s eyes widened at the assertion, shaking his head vigorously. “What? No, I’m not getting naked for anyone. I’m literally just dancing up there... but with less clothes on.” Truthfully, it did cross his mind once or twice to start doing fully nude shows, as he knew they paid far better than what he was receiving now. The other acts were constantly telling how much better the money was doing fully nude shows, but he was almost positive that’d be considered cheating, and there was also the fact that he was underage. “I don’t know... would you not wanna be with me if I did? I’m really sorry I lied to you...”

Esme "Okay, you're taking MOST of your clothes off, my mistake!" She shouted, her hands flying up to emphasize her anger. "You had such a problem with Miles and I being friends over something that happened forever ago - sorry Frankie," she directed quickly before whipping around to finally meet his eyes. "But it's okay for you to get pawed at all night. How would you feel if I was up there?" Wringing her hands together to stay calm, she began to pace the few steps of the sidewalk. "I just - what am I supposed to do?"

Frankie: 's eyes went wide at the mention of her brother. That wasn't something she was ready for, but she could deal with that alone when she got home. "Zig, it is a bit of a double standard-- There are other ways to make money, you know. Ways that don't make your girlfriend upset?" She commented. "Es, if you want to walk, we need to start walking now... Before it gets too late?"

Zig 's own anger began to rise at the mention of Miles. "It's stripping not prostitution! You say 'something' as if you guys were playing card games together or whatever. No, you were fucking him. Repeatedly — sorry Frankie," He mimicked her lead, turning his head to face Frankie briefly before directing his attention back to Esme. It was a topic he wanted to avoid from now on, as it seemed as if he would never be able to get through to Esme on that, and it surely wasn't helping that Frankie had to chime in with her opinion as well. He couldn't blame her, as he was the one who messed up, but with both of them on his case at the same time, it became a bit frustrating to deal with. "I don't know. I never thought about it." The answer was most likely yes, of course he'd be upset if it was Esme up there, but being on the opposite end of the situation, he was beginning to realize that stripping was just like any other job— clock in, do your thing, get paid, and leave. "And she's not my girlfriend," He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing loudly. "I can't tell you what you're supposed to do," He paused for a brief moment, unsure of what Zig himself was meant to do either, "but Frankie's right. It's getting late, and I have to get back in there."

Esme rolled her eyes at the unnecessary distinction. "Lucky me, they only get to look," she droned sarcastically. The blatant statement towards Miles left her with a grimace, his sister mere feet away and certainly in earshot, and as much as she wanted to defend herself, she knew it was best to move on in her presence. "I'm not his girlfriend," she reminded at the same moment as he, though het tone wasn't quite as harsh. She had no reason not to believe he'd be heading back to the stage, but his hurry stung nonetheless. She pulled her clutch up to pop the clasp, fingering through the cash on hand and pulling out the first few. "Here's for the glass," she recited, forcing the first bill into his hands. "Here's for your breathtaking performance," adding another small stack. "Bill me for all of the freebies, I guess," she hissed, turning back to Frankie. "Uber is up the block, we can just meet him there."

Zig watched as the bills were shoved into his hands. He wanted to take care of everything there and now, but the stage called for him once more, and the manager of the club was bound to be on his case anyways for running out without giving notice. “I don’t want your damn money.” He let the money fall from his hands and onto the pavement before turning on his heels to finish off his shift. “I’m sorry.” Another apology — it seemed as if he was constantly apologizing to Esme, and it was growing to be quite tiresome no matter what the reason was. “But I don’t think I can stop. Not now, at least. I wish you guys didn’t have to find out this way but... yeah.” He was at a loss for words at that point, and was already aware that nothing he could say would fix this.

Esme could feel the tension in her body as he was beckoned back inside, knowing he wouldn't decline. She wasn't sure whether she expected him to accept the funds; they certainly weren't offered from the goodness of her heart, and his reaction wasn't as rude as she deserved, but bitter was what she knew. "Well then you'd better get back up there, Count. Lots more to be made." She ignored the last of his words, softly shaking her head and leaving him with a longing glance. "Come on, Frankie." There was no use trying to salvage the rest of the night, wordlessly walking in tandem until the girls had reached their ride, masking her humiliation the whole way back.

[a-confused-turtle]

I’m Fine and It’s Nothing

Fandom: Star Trek (Specifically in Star Trek Beyond)

Request(By Anon): So if requests are open, in Star Trek Beyond [oh a Kirk x Reader x big brother! Bones], when Spock and Bones leave, reader goes with them and she gets stabbed instead of Spock, and then lots and lots of angst, but cute fluff and a happy ending????

Words: Just over 2000

Pairing/Characters: JamesTKirkxMcCoy!Reader, BigBrother!Leonard McCoy, Spock, possibly mentions of others.

Warning: Life threatening injury. A curse or two? Spoilers if you haven’t seen Star Trek Beyond...

Author’s Note: Nonnie! Love, I hope this was what you had in mind. I tried to keep it along the same lines of what went on in the movie. Agh, okay, well here goes.

With a deafening crunch followed by horrible scraping noises, that deathtrap of a ship finally skidded to a violent halt. For one moment, one singular, almost calm breath, everything was still. Well, until you noticed the pain in your abdomen. And then the blood, staining your blue shirt. And the metal object dangerously protruding out of your stomach…

Leonard would not react well to this. Of course that had to be your first thought. The second though, that was about Jim… You couldn’t help thinking about where he’d ended up. The thought of him not making it hurt more than the massive blood loss you were about to experience.

Just as predicted, once Leonard caught sight of your wound, he fell sheet white but somehow spitting mad. “Y/N, good god,” he yelled, “Sit down, come on. Hold on.”

Spock on the other hand, watched you intently with something you’d never noticed in his eyes before: Worry.

“We have to keep moving,” you breathed, the pain intensifying.

“Yes, we must, search for the rest of the crew,” Spock added, surveying the surrounding area almost half heartedly.

Raving mad, Leonard kept yelling, “If I don’t get this out of you, you’re gonna die. If I take it out and can’t stop the bleeding you’re gonna die. So, don’t you dare try and tell-”

“Stop lecturing me, Leonard, and do it already,” you hissed.

He shut his mouth, something only you could make him do, and you were vaguely aware of him moving around some equipment or something near your feet. You tried not to think about how your big brother felt at this moment. Though he didn’t show real emotion… well ever, and had just about the worst bedside manner you’d ever encountered, you were still his baby sister.

“Spock, try the tricorder,” you forced out. You needed to know what happened to Jim, especially if you were about to die.

The Vulcan nodded as Leonard turned back to you. For once he looked nervous, not ‘angry Jim forced him into this situation nervous,’ but ‘terrified he’d lose you nervous.’ You nodded your head at him, mumbling, “Get it over with, it’ll hurt no matter what.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” he replied a little shakily, “Close your eyes, take a deep breath…”

Without warning Leonard yanked the object out of your stomach and shoved a searing hot piece of the ship in the same spot.

You’d never felt that sort of pain before, it rivaled that unrequited love you kept for Jim… But, that was a dull ache, something you’d grown so accustomed to you almost didn’t notice it any longer. Almost. This, on the other hand, it ripped fiercely into your entire body.

The scream you let out didn’t deafen either of the men, thankfully.

“Let’s go already,” you grumbled through your gritted teeth.

Spock closed the tricorder, clearly finding nothing, and helped Leonard get you up.

You could only hope it didn’t get worse from there…

~

The three of you had been walking for quite a while, luckily not encountering any of the unfriendly assailants that had appeared to have taken the rest of the crew, until Spock noticed a different kind of structure amongst the rocky terrain. “Look at those markings…”

You lurched forward weakly to follow him when your brother butted in, “Y/N, hold on, you’re hurt-”

“You think I don’t know that? Don’t test me Leonard, even like this I could kick your ass,” you grumbled, not straying from your course toward Spock.

“Intriguing, those symbols are the same as those depicted on the artifact that was taken,” he observed, offering you a hand which you waved off.

“They are,” you murmured.

Leonard kept his distance from you at the prompting of your glare, but inquired, “You think it came from here?”

“It would seem so,” Spock answered, taking a bit of a closer look.

You went to speak, but the words wouldn’t come, as if your mouth had turned to sand and you were suffocating from it. The world even turned a little fuzzy and you dropped out of consciousness, completely unaware both men rushed to catch you before you hit the ground full force.

Leonard barely held it together and only let out some semblance of relief when your eyes fluttered open again.

“I’m fine,” you murmured, “Just tired.”

“Horseshit, you are! Stay with us, come on, Y/N!”

“I’m fully conscious now, yelling isn’t going to do anything, Leonard.”

“She does have a point, Doctor.”

~

They got you to your feet again, moving significantly slower, not that you seemed to notice though. All you could focus on was Jim and all the questions about his well-being swirling around in your head. How could you be so stupid as to fall in love with him, of all people?

“Y/N, don’t close your eyes. You have to stay awake for me, sweetheart,” Leonard insisted fervently, gently clapping his hand onto your cheek a couple times.

“I’m still fully conscious, I was simply resting my eyes, Leonard,” you sighed and squinted at your older brother. Your front may have been convincing to others, but not him. Doubling as a doctor and your sibling, he knew, he noticed the increasing feebleness in your movements, the fire behind your eyes slowly diminishing. “We should get moving anyway,” you suggested with a look over to Spock for support at the statement.

He agreed with a nod and moved to help Leonard get you to your feet.

After several minutes spent walking, more like trudging in the best route the three of you could manage, you finally said what you knew Spock was thinking and Leonard was dreading. Between shallow breaths you said, “You would make better time without me. I’m slowing you down, so I must insist-”

“Y/N, think about what you’re saying!” Leonard interrupted in a roar.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it! You both need to find the crew and Jim, everyone regrouping is the only chance-”

Leonard scoffed, so you cut yourself off staring daggers at him.

Spock chose the wrong moment to chime in, saying, “Doctor, it is imperative that we-”

“I don’t care,” he yelled back, “She is my baby sister! Y/N, we’re all each other has left…”

You placed a gentle though shaky hand on your protective brother’s cheek. “That’s not true. You know that’s not true. The rest of our family is out there, we just have to get to them… You just have to get to them…”

“It’s not the same for me, Y/N/N, you have somebody that…” He trailed off, covering his hand with yours.

Now that puzzled you… You had someone that what? But, before the confusion could make its way to your lips, ominous ships were buzzing around you, circling your little group.

Spock opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by your brother. “You don’t have to say it.”

He did speak again despite Leonard’s protests, but you didn’t catch it. Your mind felt fuzzy and you could barely keep your eyes open again. Nothing focused and your stomach screamed in even more pain.

Somehow you caught Leonard saying, “At least I won’t die alone,” and then found yourself stumbling in a strange room, though vaguely familiar in some way.

Spock spoke urgently ahead of you to Jim who wasn’t hearing a word he said once he caught sight of you clutching your stomach, looking paler than death. Then, Leonard appeared behind you, grumbling something about his innards and a barnyard dance.

“I’m fine,” you attempted.

“In a pig’s eye you are! Are there any medical supplies on this thing?”

~

Jim carefully helped you lay down on a small couch near one of the control areas while your brother sorted through the ‘medical supplies��� Scotty and his new friend had found. If Leonard hadn’t been so occupied with that, or saving your life, he surely would have stood a bit closer to you and tried to intimidate his best friend to get away from you. He always did that around any men looking at you in any way, even with Jim though his womanizing ways seemed to have gone by the wayside…

“What happened, exactly?” Jim pressed.

But, you cut off Spock’s answer, “It’s fine, listen to Spock about the markings, what we saw- OW!”

Jim’s eyes were pleading, focused on you so intently and in a way you never noticed before. While you wanted to assure him you were fine, that would have been difficult to do through your grimaces and whimpers of pain.

“Captain, our main objective is to find the crew.”

“You think I don’t know that, Spock?” Jim snapped.

“Then, listen to him! There are more pressing matters at hand than me,” you managed almost fiercely.

“Give him a minute,” said Leonard, calm as you had ever seen him. “Y/N, Spock… give Jim a minute and then we’ll figure out a plan.”

Leonard finished with your wound and the subpar medical supplies, for now, and quietly forced Spock out of the room in front of him, the others a fair way ahead. If that wasn’t bizarre enough, your brother showing a little tact and even bedside manner, the sight before you… James Tiberius Kirk still knelt next to where you laid, utterly silent and avoiding eye contact with you at all costs; instead, he chose to concentrate on the blood stain across your blue shirt.

“Jim-”

“You’re right,” he mumbled, “I’ll listen to Spock and get the crew back… Seeing you like this, just…” The captain’s eyes finally flicked to your face, your confused and speechless face, and a ragged sigh escaped his lips. “It’s nothing.”

“You were all I could think about. When we were out there, I thought I was dying, and you’re the one I couldn’t stop thinking about.” Before you had the chance to stop yourself, the words slipped out with an intimate tone. Emotions, feelings for others especially, had never been your forte; you’d never been so vulnerable with anyone, certainly not Jim.

Jim blinked a few times, eyes searching yours for an answer to that unspoken question, the one you’d never wanted to answer, or ask, out of fear.

That same fear rose up that instant, speaking for you. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… forget it. I’m not going to die. Leonard would never forgive me if I did, can’t have that.”

At the mention of Leonard, Jim’s expression changed, hardening and softening almost simultaneously. “Y/N, I can’t forget it. All these years I’ve been saying it’s nothing, to forget it. It’s not, because from the moment you left my sight on the bridge I haven’t stopped thinking of you. You’re always on my mind to be honest,” he spoke passionately, a hint of his trademark smirk dancing across his lips, “It’s almost a little annoying actually. I wouldn’t have it any other way though… I love you.”

Your jaw went slack at the daring proclamation, mind working to process it all. “Years?”

He nodded in response, unusually quiet.

“Jim, I-I…”

“I just needed you to know,” he interrupted, “We still have work to do and-”

“Would you hush? Indeed we still have work to do and people to save. So, I’ll make it quick,” you shot back, suddenly discovering a bit of your usual fire. In one quick movement your lips connected with his as you both leaned to him and pulled him to you. “I love you too,” you breathed shakily once your lips drifted away from his.

The smile that graced his face, even had you grinning. His eyes, on the other hand, spoke in different tongues of the layers weighing him down and lifting him up in that moment.

“Let’s get to work.”

Once more kiss and his hand taking yours firmly told you everything would turn out alright. Your happiness in that moment could have contended with anything the universe had to throw at you.

Tags: @enniaram

[yarnfuprincess-blog]

#1 - The Library

I walked farther down the hallway, peaking into open doorways as I went.  Bathroom, office, various empty rooms, when I suddenly found it - the library. I've never seen anything in someone's private home so majestic and breathtaking... it must be nice to have access to this kind of money. My jaw literally dropped as I took in the room.  The wall across from the doorway was all windows, except for the center which housed a massive fireplace.  MASSIVE... Not that I wanted to try it, but it seemed like I, and 20 of my closest friends, could stand inside of it. Despite the size, there was a normal-sized, warm and inviting fire, flickering gently.  I could see the rain storm pounding through the open curtains, thankful for the warmth in this cold night.  To the right were floor to ceiling bookcases... wait, am I in the movie Beauty and the Beast? They even had ladders attached to some of the higher cases.  Actually, as I stepped farther into the room, the bookcases surrounded the remaining walls as well.  There were big, soft looking leather chairs scattered around the room, some in conversation corners, others alone. Each had a squishy looking pillow and a fuzzy blanket over the back.  In the center was a huge leather couch... if you could call it a couch. The seat cushions were so wide they seemed bigger than a twin size bed.  It too had mounds of pillows and a few heavy blankets artistically thrown about.  Perfect for gazing out the windows, or at the fireplace and taking a nap. The room felt masculine, yet I felt welcomed.  Like I could sink in here for hours, and completely relax.

I made my way over to the couch, choosing a side to climb into.  A cloud... that's the only way I can describe it, a warm soft cloud.  It felt like I was melting into it, as the pillows settled around me. Sitting back, my legs stuck straight out.  Where does one even purchase a couch this large? It was also one of those ones that I knew I was going to have to get pried out of... once you are in, you are in!

"Oh good, you found it!" I turned to see Luke entering the room, a bottle of wine and 2 glasses in hand.  "This is my favorite room at the estate." He looked around the room fondly, a slight smile on his lips. 

I smiled when our eyes met, "I can see why! This is an amazing room.  Do you read a lot?" I gestured to all of the bookcases.

He walked toward me, heading to put the wine and glasses on the coffee table.  It was then I noticed what he was wearing.  Gone was his suit and tie from earlier today.  Like me, he changed into his pajamas and was barefoot.  Although, that is way to girly a word for how he looked in them.  Pants, a soft black cotton, hung low on his hips, as he moved his thigh muscles were clearly defined against the fabric.  My eyes traveled up, conscious to be "normal" and not look - must maintain maturity! But I couldn't help but take a quick peak, blushing, quickly continuing upward to be stopped by his glorious abs.  He was wearing a white t-shirt, old and faded, that seemed to hug every rugged expanse of his chest. I could see his chest ripple and his arms flex as he meandered toward me.  My perusal finally made it to his face, where I was met with a half smirk... he winked.  I put my hand up to my face, as I had a suspicion that my jaw was hanging open... it wasn't. Thank goodness for small miracles. Wait, he winked. That sucker just winked at me.  I laughed and shook my head, trying to clear it.  "So, do you? Read a lot that is?" He didn't answer my question yet.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he placed the wine down on the end table next to the couch.  "I used to. Pop couldn't drag me out of this room during the summers I spent here." Pop referred to his grandfather, the first Luke Stevenson, and builder of this estate. He shrugged, "But now I just don't have much time."  He put his hands on his hips, looking down at me, "Scooch over." He made a shooing motion with his hand.

"Huh?" I looked at the massive sofa, making a show of it. I gestured my arm to the expanse of it, "there's plenty of room!"

He winked again, "I see darlin', but you are in my seat. Move over." He jerked his head in the direction he wanted me to go.  Whatever... there were perfectly good seats everywhere, but this is one of the last times he would be in the library before the estate was turned into a gardens and event venue.  I scooched over, barely making it a few inches before he slid into the space between the arm of the couch and me.  We were pressed up against each other, which made it harder to move.  Every time I would shift, he would too and the couch would eat me, pushing me against him. 

His moved his arm, I guess to get more comfortable, sliding it along the back of the couch.  "Just give up..." he chuckled, "accept your fate."  I gave him some side-eye from my position.  I was curled into him, my nose almost buried in his arm pit.  By the way, are arm pits supposed to smell this good? His feet were at the edge, the couch making us look like two little kids on adult furniture.  He reached over and poured us each a glass of wine, hitting a hidden switch on the table.  The lights dimmed a little and a flat screen TV began to lower from a hidden panel in the ceiling.  He handed me my glass, and snuggled back next to me

"Wanna watch a movie?" he murmured close to my ear. "It's shitty out, I figured we can stay in, relax, and unwind a little."  He moved his leg, now we were pressed together from hip to knee.  I wiggled my toes, still not believing I was sitting here like this with him.  "Sure," I shrugged, "what do you want to watch?"

"Let's see," he grabbed the remote and started flipping to the movie channels, "if you see anything, say something."  He started scrolling through when I noticed the latest chick-flick my friends have been raving about.  "Wait, stop there!" He hit the info button to read about it, pursing his lips and arching an eyebrow. "Let's watch this one," I offered sweetly.  He scanned the screen again, "a chick-flick?"  I grinned, "Yep, the one I've been wanting to see."  I looked up at him through my lashes, milking it for all its worth. He would never agree to this, and maybe I could weasel my way out from under his arm as he looked for something else.  He let out a sigh, "Okay, I'm in."  He pressed play.  I blinked, not expecting that.  I settled, trying not to keep falling into him and provide some space.  He just watched me, as I finally gave in... a soft smile on his face.  He didn't seem to care that we were stuck together.  I couldn't help but poke a stick at the lion.

"You gave in easily to this one, do you secretly like chick-flicks?" He cuddled me closer, his arm moving from the couch to my shoulders.  I felt his nose lightly graze my temple before he whispered directly into my ear, "I'll let you in on a little secret, Darlin', a real man will watch anything if it means he gets to cuddle up to a warm, soft, good smelling woman."  His nose nuzzled my ear, "Don't you like to cuddle?" His soft exhale tickled the hairs that had fallen out of my ponytail around my ears.  I batted my empty hand at his face, "Stop that! Don't be all smoozy and flirty - no wasting the charm on me, I'm immune!" He was not going to use his charm to sway me on the deal - who cares that we are old high school classmates! I'm not going to be one of his harem - he's got a whole line of them now that he owns the multi-billion dollar corporation. 

"Immune? So you don't mind if I get more comfortable?" I tried to sound nonchalant, "Not at all, the couch won't le me up without you pulling me out of it, so do what you need to do." To this day, I don't know how he did it - he must be a ninja when he's not building an empire.  Somehow he took my wine, sat it on the table, did some scissor kick move only scene in action movies, and he was suddenly stretched out long ways on the sofa and I was his blanket - all before I could even blink! He was sprawled out under me, arms wrapped loosely around my back, my legs tucked between his, blinking up at me innocently as I gapped down at him.  "What?" he asked.  I could feel his bare foot nuzzle under my pant leg and rest on the back of my calf.  The movement of his leg causing me to settle closer into him, if that was even possible. 

Still I gapped at him.  He gently cupped the back of my head and eased it down to his chest. "Shhhh... watch the movie."  He turned his head to watch, his hand still on the back of my head to hold me there, my cheek resting on his hard pec.  How the hell did this happen?  Plain Jane, extra fluffy, Abigail Moore was stretched out on top of the latest cover of Cosmo's sexiest billionaire issue, and he put me there. Wait... I'm extra fluffy, I've got to be squishing him. I started to wiggle, trying to shift my weight toward the back of the sofa.  Suddenly I felt his free hand clamp down on my hip to hold me still.  "What are you doing?" I felt the words rumble deep in his chest.  I blushed, pushing against his hand holding my head in order to meet his gaze.  "Umm.. how do I say this?  Aren't I squishing you?" He laughed outright, wrapping both arms around me in a tight hug, pulling me back down.  "Babe, do I look like I'm being squished? Am I having trouble breathing?" He kept laughing, "I'm a pretty big guy, it would take more than little you to squish me."  His hand ran up and down my back, just as his foot ran up the back of my calf.  "Just relax, enjoy the cuddle, and watch the movie."  I took a deep breath and released it.  He kept one hand on my back while the other moved to play with my hair.  My voice was muffled against his chest, "Just because this feels nice doesn't mean I have to like you." I could feel him shake his head above me, "Shhh... watch the movie, truce until morning."